The Might of Monsters (Those Who Break Chains Book 2) by Maria Ying

Author:Maria Ying [Ying, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hua Publishing
Published: 2022-11-21T23:00:00+00:00

Interlude: Ouroboros

There's an advantage to a body of quicksilver, the Exegesis thinks; you can penetrate and be penetrated a thousand times over, in dozens of different ways, and each is more satisfying than the last. No pause for sensitivity needed, none of the limitations of flesh orifices.

To an observer, she and her partner must appear to be engaging in mortal combat. The sharp silver of the Exegesis has pierced the tender flesh of the Cynosure in a hundred points, through hands and arms, thighs and breasts. Her silver mouth, meanwhile, laps eagerly and relentlessly between the Cynosure’s legs, drinking both the blood dripping down her stomach and another sort of wine entirely. They’ve been fucking for hours, and the room smells of gore. It has soaked into the sheets, the floor. Red specks the ceiling.

In turn, black tendrils spread through the Exegesis like vines, like ink mingling with water. No part of the Exegesis is untouched—she has been invaded, infiltrated. Left alone, the matter of her would eventually become malleable to the Cynosure’s mesmeric command, and the prospect of violation is delicious. Droplets of mercury quiver on what is left of the mesmer’s face.

Little by little the Exegesis withdraws. It is not so much surrender as an acknowledgment that both have reached satiation. Inhuman coitus, divine even, is excellent but one can hardly hold a conversation through it. The time for mindless intercourse must come to an end; they must proceed with their scheming. One cannot play all the time.

The Cynosure sprawls. Her flesh mends; one of her hands gathers a coil of gut and reels it back into herself. Already her face is returning to perfection—the flawless skin, the generous eyes, the full mouth of a fertility goddess. Her body likewise, the bounty of breasts and softness. She is regenerating her spiderweb dress too, pouting a little when it picks up blood—brightening to red, indelibly—and then sighs. “Well, it can be a nice effect too, a little ombre. You’re so rough with me, by the way. I think you perforated both lungs.”

“Tell me you don’t like it rough, and I’ll call you a liar.” The Exegesis is not unscathed herself, for all that her body is nigh-indestructible. Entire patches of quicksilver have been forced to transmute into flesh, raw and swollen, unconnected nerves and sinews and cartilage. Open wounds and seeping lymph. She is in agony; she is ecstatic. No other can damage her in the unique way the Cynosure is capable of—what luxury. “More to the point, isn’t your other lover terribly jealous?”

“She can be as jealous as she likes. Monogamy is for barbarians.” The Cynosure picks up her left eyeball from her lap and pops it, wetly, back in place. “Oh, be careful with that one in your side, darling, I think it’s a tumor and not the benign kind.”

Quicksilver froths around the area in question. Mortal meat is ejected, slopping to the floor. Another piece follows. This one has a mouth and vocal cords, and it squalls horribly until the Exegesis crushes it underfoot.

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