MISTRESS

18+ ONLY!

Author: gd

  • Hildegard Grau. [1/?]

    Before she traded her soul for immortality, the Mistress was known as Doctor Hildegard Grau, practitioner of medical arts. Though medical science as we know it today is quite advanced, the Old Ways were crude and unproven. Simple maladies were often treated with superstitions and phials of swill. Complicated ailments were cured with the bonesaw. Doctor Grau decided to follow a less orthodox path, studying a new branch of medicine involving the dissection of patients as they live and breathe, manipulating their innards to achieve the healthful outcome. Surgery was regarded with suspicion in those days, but it was hard to argue with the results.

    Doctor Grau quickly mastered the scalpel and the needle, and before long, she developed a reputation as a habitual rule-breaker amongst the medical community. Eager to explore her passion, she began to perform unconventional treatments in limb grafting and organ replacement on the infirm. Few of her peers had her academic expertise, and most were hesitant to question her revolutionary methods in public, but privately, they seethed. They saw her ambitions as perverse, a stain on their noble profession. As Doctor Grau pushed the boundaries of their field, they felt the limits of their knowledge weigh heavy on their pride. In hindsight, their decision to shun her and banish her work would be recognized as the first step on her path of ascension.

    Free to pursue her whims, and no longer bound by rules or precedent, the Doctor decided to blend her studies. Alchemic and occult wisdom became sources of profound interest, and as her research deepened, so too did her seclusion. Once hopeful to help mankind with the tip of her knife, her jaded heart now sought to remake it.

    Continue…

  • The Thief, or: A Primer on Mundus Mortis, Part One.

    The most frequent excuse offered by those venturing into the darkness of Mundus Mortis is the legend of life-altering wealth, hidden deep within its cursed halls. It’s not hard to imagine why, given the proprietor of this haunted fortress: Grizelda, the dread lich queen, has been residing there for generations. A sorceress is certain to have all sorts of rare metals, alchemic instruments, and magic bric-a-brac laying about, after all, and any treasure hunter worth their salt knows a merchant or two that deals in such esoteric wares.

    Surely just a peek inside wouldn’t be too dangerous? As long as one was careful not to rouse any of the tomb’s denizens, one could very likely make a small fortune in a single evening… Or so it’s been said.

    Talia Goodgrave decided to press her luck, despite a satchel already brimming with thick gold rings. Each had a small slit straight through, rounded gently on both sides. What were they supposed to be for, she wondered? No telling with a lich. They were heavy, though, and that meant they’d fetch a high price with the metallurgist. There were easily fifty of them jingling cheerily in the bag, and each time she peeked inside to admire them, they caught the light in a way that made her giddy. It was almost a shame to sell them. Perhaps if she delved a little deeper, she could find a few more alchemic baubles to hock, and still be able keep a ring or two as proof of her daring adventure on the next hard-drinking night at the tavern. Just a little further.

    (more…)

  • Holistic Medicine.

    Always approach the treatment of the patient in a comprehensive way. When the outside and the inside are cared for with a mind towards unity, the therapy has a much better chance of yielding a favorable outcome.

    Some physical reconfiguration may be required for optimal results.

  • Grizelda x Sheila.

    Offered by ulfrin…

    Grizelda had come on strong at the party, keeping Sheila’s glass full and hanging on every word, even laughing at her worst jokes. Touching her arm, holding her gaze, why this one was almost too easy. If Sheila couldn’t get revenge on Beatrix, well at least this Grizelda woman would suffice for someone to take her recent defeat out on. A doctor, she said she was. Very charming, and absolutely smitten it seemed. Why Grizelda couldn’t keep her eyes off her! Almost as if the woman couldn’t decide what part of Sheila’s body excited her most. Grizelda poured her more wine. Everything was going well. 

    Grizelda asked if Sheila would care to join her for more fun after the party. Said she’d always wanted to do it in a graveyard, and since it was Halloween and all… A bit odd of a request, but Sheila was still game. After splitting another bottle of wine the clothes came off. The kissing and groping started. Odd, Grizelda was awfully cold even for a lizard. Whatever. Now was Sheila’s chance. She slipped the tip of her tail up Grizelda’s ass and shoved it in hard. Sheila only had a second to realize there was almost no give before the end of her tail burst through what she thought was the make-up on Grizelda’s belly. 

    “Ah! I knew you were a kinky one when I spotted you at that party.” Grizelda grinned and gripped Sheila’s tail hard. “Don’t worry pet, I’ll let you go when I’m done. If you’re a good girl and obey your Mistress.” In the tail went. Sheila struggled and pushed but could not fight the small woman off or manage to pull her own damn tail out of herself. 

    “Just my luck, another midget with super strength!” Sheila lamented to herself. It seemed she was in for a long night. 

  • Cyber Grizelda.

    Your bloodline probably should have done something about this a few generations ago. Now we’ve all got a cyberlich to deal with. That’s just great.

  • Deidre Delmonico, Freelance Mage.

    “If you’re going to insist on tagging along, at least keep up. It’s getting late, and I don’t sleep in dungeons.”

    A descendant of a long line of unusually-tailed folk, Deidre is a naturally talented practitioner of the magical arts with a hugely inflated opinion of herself. Selfish, proud, and overly confident in her abilities, she enjoys the prestige that comes with adventuring, but has a general distaste for the associated grime and muck. Not terribly realistic in this line of work, but then, nobody has ever accused her of having good judgement. Frequently seen in the company of her long-suffering ward, Roman, an orphan with an uncanny knack for necromancy (and not much else). Though Deidre finds his lack of magical range to be a little boring, his doting admiration for his guardian has proven tactically useful on many occasions.

  • Mating Dance.

    “Ooh! Now that you can’t leave, we’re gonna play my favorite game! I call it Mating Dance! I’ll be Boy, you be Girl!”

    Vorpal’s venom has a heightened potency, thanks to the cursed ichor flowing through her reconstructed body. Her abdomen, hewn from the pulsating remains of a hellspawn hornet, contains the cruel apparatus with which she’s cut short many a quest—her fearsome, oversized stinger. Grizelda decided to improve upon that biological advantage by linking its organs to the pleasure center of her nervous system. As a result, Vorpal has become obsessed with her grafted appendage over the years.

    Most laypeople assume that an insect’s stinger is a simple tube with a sharp tip, like a hypodermic needle. At an enlarged scale, however, the biological complexity of this tool is revealed: A split shaft with serrated lancets helps the hollow stylet wiggle deep inside the prey and lodge in place, before pumping them full of its venomous payload. While Vorpal finds this activity quite enjoyable, her playmates generally do not.

    Given her monstrous size and the unstable nature of Necrow’s flesh, Vorpal’s exoskeleton is unusually fragile. A strong impact can crack her shell, making her mostly reliant on stealth and the element of surprise to subdue her targets. With enough time to recover, however, she can regrow any severed extremity, including her head.

  • Snicker-snack.

    “This one stopped moving, too! I guess that just leaves you, huh?”

    Vorpal spots you from a distance. She’s cautious, given the nature of your presence; you’re most likely here to destroy the Mistress, and she can’t allow that. Taking you on directly would be suicide, not that she’s any stranger to death; as the first line of defense, she’s tasked with greeting all visitors to Mundus Mortis, Grizelda’s horrific subterranean compound.

    Perhaps she’ll creep along the ceiling, hiding between the shadows, waiting for you to let your guard down. She’ll only need a moment. Just a quick sting, and her job is finished. It’s alright if you dispatch her afterwards; Grizelda’s dark science has put her back together plenty of times before. You, on the other hand, have a painful dilemma on your hands: your body is now burning with ichor-infused venom. As your insides melt, you wonder if you should warn your friends or end your own suffering. You don’t have time to decide before you join the souls of hundreds before you.

    A third-generation test subject, Vorpal is a chimera of insectoid corpses implanted with Necrow’s regenerating flesh. Hypnotized by the ichor pumping through her chitinous body since rebirth, Vorpal has been trained in absolute subservience to the Mistress. Any demand, no matter how dangerous or degrading, is performed with an uncannily perverse glee. Her love for Grizelda dominates her thoughts, and she is highly possessive of her attention amongst the other abominations.

  • Red Nightmare.

    “We can taste your loathing and lust mixing together, Matryoshka… The flavor pleases us…”

    A hybrid of three entities, Matryoshka’s layers each have a separate consciousness, but share sensations and a pool of memories. The outermost layer, the demon skin, is loud and boisterous: a talkative and tactless suit of living armor. It can speak through any of its orifices, and it takes great joy in sharing her innermost thoughts with those she least wants to hear them. Its flesh is rubbery, flexible, and completely impenetrable to conventional weaponry. Its mouths can devour almost anything, but it remains a mystery where those things go once they’ve been eaten.

    The middle layer, what remains of her mortal body, still has limited autonomy. Stoic by nature, Matryoshka is a woman of few words, though her skin frequently betrays her thoughts. A massive warrior in life, her strength has increased a hundredfold in undeath, making her Grizelda’s primary choice in personal defense. Her grip can crush a helmet-clad skull like an overripe fruit, and a wound from her wicked blade, Everthirst, inflicts a bleeding curse that can only be staunched with the aid of healing magic. Though she occasionally still yearns for freedom, she has resigned herself to her fate as Grizelda’s plaything.

    Her innermost layer, her heart, is no longer completely within our plane of existence. Transmuted into a cancerous bridge between worlds, it has access to knowledge and power outside of the realm of mortal understanding. It also prefers to be left alone, refusing to participate in the petty affairs of the tangible unless they happen to affect it directly.

  • Consumed by Hatred.

    “So, you’ve come to destroy us… We can already tell you won’t be the one. You’ll be punished for rousing us.”

    Her creation began as her torture. A former witch hunter turned undead bodyguard, Matryoshka tried and failed to slay Grizelda in the days when such a thing was still conceivable. After her capture, Grizelda decided her body would be of greater use in her laboratory, rather than mounted outside on a pike as a warning.

    A second-generation experiment, Matryoshka is a fusion of Necrow’s poisoned flesh and Grizelda’s eldritch summoning. Demonic flesh usually requires regular blood sacrifice to survive, but when summoned into a regenerating host, the flesh can become self-sufficient. Locking her in a cell with the growing abomination, Grizelda planned to document the slow, painful consumption of her prisoner; instead, the flesh bound itself to her, integrating its foul organs with her own. Without the need for blood, demon flesh eventually solidifies into a static shape. In Matryoshka’s case, the visible part of it became her skin, while the rest made her innards host to the unspeakable horrors of the demon world.

    Although she hates Grizelda from the deepest reaches of her being, Matryoshka is magic-bound to eternally serve and satisfy her mistress in whatever ways she demands. Each time a new trespasser enters the halls of Mundus Mortis, Matryoshka prays they’ll finally be the one to release her. So far, they’ve only been grist for Grizelda’s grim mill.