MISTRESS

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Tag: gore

  • The Hunger. [3/?]

    After her unmooring, Doctor Grau’s mind evolved. Alien voices spoke to her in languages lost to time, yet she understood their words as fluently as if they were in her own tongue. They regaled her with the secret mathematics and fundamental truths of the universe, and a great many things were suddenly clear and known. A veil had been lifted; her frigid eyes beheld this starkly illuminated world with strange desire.

    The limits of her flesh quickly became evident as her blessing burned through her. Mortal minds are ill-equipped for such burdens, their architecture unsuitable for the weight of absolute knowledge. As madness gripped her, a bottomless hunger sprang forth. Her lust was fearsome and all-encompassing; every sensation had become synonymous with pleasure. Doctor Grau discovered within herself a particularly ravenous appetite for pain, reveling in its diverse flavors as they spread across her newly awakened palate. Her body demanded abuse, and so she obliged it with a parade of degradations—all in pursuit of the rapture that swallowed her when skin stretched and tore, muscles bruised and blackened, bones cracked and ached. Her appetite grew, and as it did, a twisted grin became etched into her visage. Each experiment brought her agonizingly close to transcendence, but the answer continued to remain just beyond the reach of her bloodied, outstretched fingers.

    The missing element was not something that could be found within. The administration of her own treatments had provided much insight, but lacked the clinical discipline necessary for such esoteric research. To satisfy her craving, she found that test subjects were imperative. In wartime, these were plentiful, and no matter how many drunken revelers, vagrants, or invalids disappeared into her secluded laboratory, questions were seldom asked. The world was already drowning in death and sickness; what were a few more drops in this black ocean? The sum of their flesh was greater upon her altar.

    Only the Night Mother witnessed her, and Doctor Grau took her silence as tacit approval.

    Continue…

  • Mark of Glory. [2/?]

    Years had passed since her exile from the halls of academia. As plague and war cut a swath through civilization, Doctor Grau had little trouble finding an abandoned structure to hide and further her research. Sheltered from prying eyes, her experiments had begun to tap into otherworldly forces that were far beyond her comprehension. Standing at the lip of this chasm of knowledge, she embraced the void, plunging into the abyss.

    There was no turning back. The research consumed her, and as days slipped away, she realized that sleep was nothing more than a distraction from her goals. Something inside her mind had broken loose, and as its jagged edges shredded what was left of her sanity, a different person emerged. The light in her eyes had been swallowed by an icy darkness, and what little compassion may have once existed there sank forever into its infinite depths.

    To truly understand her theurgic craft, Doctor Grau made her own mind the subject of her next experiment. In a rare moment of submission, she laid herself bare to the demonic power that obsessed her, eager for its foul blessing. And so it gladly accommodated her: Ten thousand years of arcane enlightenment flooded her skull as an exquisite pain penetrated her soul. Pressing its ethereal member against her brains, it branded her forehead with an eye opened, never blinking, to honor her awakening. Her seared flesh screamed, but her heart felt only the ecstacy of unbounded pleasure.

    Continue…

  • 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. 

  • 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.

  • True Believer.

    “I flew, once… I don’t miss it, though. Mistress showed me that I was more useful here, so now I walk. If you play nicely, she’ll let you walk again, as well.”

    One of Grizelda’s first test subjects, now her most loyal acolyte. Hundreds of years have passed since he was reborn as Necrow, an undead husk animated by her ichor, and while his flesh has remained mostly intact in that time, his mind has not. Once a jealous mortal rival, he has since completely surrendered his black heart and soul to Grizelda. His unwavering loyalty is often rewarded with inclusion in her most depraved schemes and desires. Though he can no longer remember his former life or even his name, Necrow isn’t concerned with such trifles; seeing her Grand Experiment through to the very end by putting himself at her disposal is the only thing that drives him.

    What is the Grand Experiment? Grizelda has never made its ultimate goal clear to anyone but herself. Her relentless investigations into the preservation and regeneration of the flesh she’s hoarded in her compound suggests that the monstrosities she’s assembled so far are just the beginning of her mad ambitions.

  • Finishing Touches.

    Grizelda knows that the march towards surgical perfection is a slow one. But as a lifelong scholar, she’s found true enlightenment in the minutiae. Every subsequent slice of the scalpel more considered, every loop of filament more thoughtfully threaded than the last. Bonding bones, linking ligaments, and mending muscles are all parts of an intricate medical dance, after all, and although she considers herself adept, she still has much to learn. As she often reminds her victims, it’s taken countless years of research and trials for her to ensure that their flesh and organs will remain viable for repeated experimentation long after the donor has been excised.

    Does it hurt? Only if she doesn’t use anesthetic. You may want to hold that mirror steady with whatever you’ve got left, if you’re planning to remain in her good graces…

  • Head Four Ways, with Grizelda.

    Grizelda’s head can exist independently when detached. As one of the undead, she doesn’t require air, blood, or food to survive, and can speak without lungs or vocal cords thanks to the dark magic that animates her. Although her mobility is limited in this form, the prehensile tentacles slithering within her skull can be used for ambulation when extended from her neck.

    The primary purpose of those tentacles, however, is to bind her to a host body so that she can assume control. The tips can expand and contract at will, allowing them to pierce soft tissue like a needle and anchor themselves with barbs. Once buried in place, she can use these tube-like extremities to inject her ichor, allowing her to manipulate the flesh and feel its nerve endings as if they were her own.

    While it’s technically possible for her to possess a living host, trial and error have led her to the conclusion that it’s generally preferable to exsanguinate them and remove the problematic head first.

  • Nightmare Surgeon.

    “Ah, you’re awake…! A little early, by my calculations… but no matter. The operation is nearly finished, whether you’re sedated or not. No, no… Don’t try to speak just yet… I haven’t reattached your vocal cords. Behave yourself and we’ll revisit the subject later.

    “As you can see, I’ve relieved you of several of your more interesting components… I must say, the flesh is quite supple and well-groomed. Don’t worry, you’re not in any real danger… of dying, that is. I’ve simply rebuilt you into a more suitable configuration using my spare organs and extremities… You may have noticed that I’ve made several improvements upon your original design. Your creator was so… unambitious.

    “Now rise, thrall, and assist me with the final touches on your former meat. We have much work to do if my new form is to be properly defiled before the full moon is at its zenith.”

    Grizelda is a lich of immense power. She’s spent several lifetimes researching arcane medical wisdom and eldritch craftsmanship, imbuing her surgical technique with dark magic. She frequently grows bored of her corporeal form, swapping appendages like most people change accessories. While some might choose to surrender their soul in the pursuit of loftier machinations, Grizelda is only interested in furthering her carnal pleasure with increasingly outlandish operations. In addition to her phylactery, she is extremely protective of her original tail, and will find a way to reattach it to whatever form she might currently possess.

  • Infested Host.

    Unless summoned by an experienced practitioner of the dark arts, demon flesh will quickly consume its human host. A constant source of blood is required to maintain this symbiosis; without it, the flesh will multiply uncontrollably before devouring itself.