Merielle hadn’t thought after what she had been through in the last day that if she ever got back in the water, the first thing she would want to do was crawl out – but that was precisely what she did. It was – different. Even without her skin, she had always enjoyed swimming, enjoyed the feeling of the water around, but this was – something dirty. It was humiliating, how she had been tossed off the balcony, cast away as soon as he was finished with her. The only thing she was grateful for was that the water hid her tears.
The beautiful selkie crouched in the closest thing to a corner she could find in the middle of the club, against one of the edges of the pool that she had climbed out of. At least the attention that had been on her after her fall seemed to have lapsed. No one was looking at her, no one was paying attention as she folded her knees against her chest and hugged them. Merielle wept silently, the tears vanishing into the drops of water already adorning her cheeks as she felt the loud music vibrate the water off of her, one drip at a time. Was this – was this really what the rest of her life was going to be? How quickly it had all fallen apart…
Almost exactly one day ago, she had no idea of the depravity people were capable of. She stayed away from the mortal world not for fear, but for propriety – because it was simply the way it was done. She had been curious about people, watching them from afar on their beaches and their boats. Now she wanted nothing more than to dive down to the darkest depths of the ocean and never come back up.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, lost in her self pity, before Yuki came to get her. She just opened her eyes to find the kitsune standing over her, looking down, her cold eyes calculating, appraising, watching – looking at Merielle like she was a puzzle to be solved rather than a woman. For her part, Merielle didn’t understand how Yuki could be so cruel, how she could have been part of taking her into this hell when she was a slave herself, when she knew how Merielle would be treated. The ancient fox and the young selkie stared at each other for some time, neither seeming to figure out the other.
The kitsune was naked, she realized – and her body was even more beautiful than Merielle had believed beneath her clothing. She stood shamelessly in the room, with more than one man staring at her, seemingly unaware of her nudity or at the very least uncaring. Just looking at her body, Merielle felt a kind of magnetic attraction to the woman. Almost like a faerie glamour, no matter how much the woman scared her, she found herself drawn to the exotic woman. No matter her mussed hair, the sloppy, ruined makeup on her face, or the stains of something crusted in her dark hair, she still looked unnaturally beautiful to the Selkie.
“Master Mordred wants you,” Yuki said at last.
Merielle shook her head slightly, shaken out of her trace by the words – Yuki had all but yelled that, in truth, but over the music, she could barely hear at all. “Who?”
“The owner of the club,” Yuki said, all five of her tails separating as they twitched in obvious agitation, swaying back and forth quickly. “He rarely bothers with any of the new girls – their resistance bores the bastard. The moment he saw you, though…” She glared at Merielle. “You know him, don’t you? It’s why he asked for you? The last new girl he had me bring to him was a dryad that used to protect a Germanic tribe he helped conquer, way back when – who are you to him?”
Merielle had no idea what the kitsune was talking about. “I don’t know anyone,” she whimpered. “I’ve never been apart from my kind.”
Yuki kept glaring for several more seconds before he set out a disgusting breath. “Come on. Get up. I’m not going to be beaten because you kept him waiting.”
The shaking girl rose unsteadily to her feet, wiping away her tears with her forearm. She was still wearing the soaked remains of her white slip, but it did nothing for her modesty at all – waterlogged, it was about as transparent as the open air. She kept one arm folded over her breasts until Yuki scoffed and yanked down her hand. “Get out of the habit,” she said, sneering. “They don’t like their girls to be shy. You’ll give them one more thing to beat out of you.”
Despite her instincts screaming at her and the blush on her cheek, Merielle didn’t raise her hand again. “That sounded almost like advice,” she said over the throbbing noise in the air from the club’s music.
“Don’t get used to it,” the woman sneered, all five of her tails flicking to one side at the same time. Annoyance, perhaps? Following the beautiful woman, they climbed up a few staircases one after the other, pressing past them who seemed always to rub their bodies against Merielle as they passed, and go out of their way to avoid doing the same to Yuki as she strode past them like a queen.
Well before they got there, Merielle realized they were headed to the balcony where Merielle had caught sight of Yuki earlier. The balcony with the man in the chair. Mordred, she had called him. She took the last few steps with dread making her feet heavy, and then she emerged onto the balcony – up here, it wasn’t as loud as below. This balcony was darker than the others as well, and far less crowded. There were couches and chairs and tables, just like the others, but they were all empty – the absence of people where there were furnishings for them making it feel more empty than if it had just been an empty floor. The only chair that was occupied was closer to a throne than a chair – and a man sat in it.
He wasn’t as tall as she expected, but he was built like a stone. His skin was olive, his hair was dark and cut short, and his eyes were dark as pits in the earth. When Mordred stood, she realized that he was barely an inch taller than her, but probably outweighed her by nearly a hundred pounds of muscle – his build screamed warrior.
When he spoke, his voice was smooth, cultured, and firm. “Bow,” he commanded.
Immediately, Yuki fell to one knee, tilting her head. Uncertain, Merielle did the same, but more slowly – and she felt his eyes on her the entire time. Not saw him looking at her – it was beyond that. There was a weight in his gaze, an intensity that terrified her.
He stepped towards them, grabbing Yuki by her hair and pulling her to her feet. The whole thing was so abrupt that Merielle gasped – her hair bore the entire weight of the kitsune as the lift was far too quick for her legs to assist her up. It had to be agonizing to be lifted like that, but the Yuki never made a sound. “Leave us,” he commanded before giving her a shove in the direction of the stairs – a tiny shove that nevertheless sent her stumbling. “Back to your duties.”
Without a word, Yuki left, pausing just a second to look back at them before she disappeared back down the stairs. Then Mordred turned his attention back to her. “Rise,” he instructed her, and she did, rising unsteadily to her feet. “What is your name?”
“Merielle,” she answered.
She had barely finished answering when he struck her, a lightning fast slap that stung but did little but turn her head – a dismissive slap, no one to knock her off her feet. “You will refer to me as Master,” he said, almost as an aside. “Or Master Mordred. Every time you fail, you will be punished. Merielle… are you certain that is your name?”
The slap had been so fast that Merielle only flinched after it was over. Slowly, the selkie raised her hand to her cheek, soothing the shocking sting of the slap away. “Yes – Master…” she affirmed.
He shook his head. “Disappointing…” Mordred said, frowning. Then he reached out and grabbed the top of her soaking wet gown in both hands, and ripped it down the middle with as little effort as it would take for her to tear a leaf. She yelped as her clothing, immodest as it was, was taken away. “You look so much like her,” he said, looking up and down her body, taking in her body its entirety.
Mordred smiled. “Let’s find out how close you are.” He took hold of her red hair like a leash, pulling her towards the chair. His steps forced her to walk quickly to keep up, bending partially over to keep her scalp from hurting. He led her onward, out a door behind the balcony and down a hallway, the selkie needing to move her legs quick to keep up with him, to prevent pain – at least they were leaving the noise and music and intoxicating smoke behind. Mordred opened a door and dragged her inside, making her eyes go wide at the room.
She didn’t know what she was looking at – but she was certain she didn’t like it. The walls were covered with whips, paddles, sticks, various kinds of restraints – an entire wall was filled with fake cocks of various varieties. She didn’t understand what the purpose of all the furniture here was, but the context was clear even to a Selkie who had been completely innocent only yesterday – this was a room for women to be fucked in. And she was being dragged into it, completely at the mercy of the man who had paid to have her captured and brought here.
“Stand here,” Mordred ordered, leaving her standing near the middle of the room while he walked to one of the walls, taking a set of cuffs made from – a ripple of disgust went through her whole body as she smelled the Seal Skin. Mordred didn’t care. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them together in front of her, restraining her with the cuffs – the feeling of the leather against her skin was disgusting. She feared that this wasn’t just seal skin – it was the skin of Selkie. Someone who had lost their skin, whom Yuki or this man had punished. She would never be able to return to her true form, trapped like this forever.
Then he took the rope from where it hung from the ceiling, slipping the noose of it over her head. “This is how I took Briaca, that last time,” he said, speaking almost too quietly to hear, obviously more to himself than to her. “One way to find out how much like her you really are,” he said as he yanked the noose tight around her quivering throat. Mordred ran a finger softly across Merielle’s cheek, his expression distant. The Selkie just wished she knew what he was talking about.
Merielle was too innocent of the world to understand the kind of danger she was in – but she figured it out quickly when he grabbed the main rope and pulled. Merielle’s sudden attempt at a scream was cut short, her green eyes wide and full of horror as she was lifted off the ground by the neck. Her lips trembled as her legs jerking frantically, her bound hands flying to her throat. Merielle’s shaking fingers pried helplessly at the rough-hewn rope suffocating her, crushing her windpipe as she swayed back and forth on the end of the rope.
It was like being deep below the ocean, far from the surface and needing to breathe – but worse, more painful. Her eyes bulged, her nostrils flaring as her tits flailed back and forth, heaving and jerking as her belly tightened as a deep, horrible gurgle rose from her throat. She couldn’t die like this, not here, not so far from the waters she called home – so far away that Manannan Mac Lir would never find, never take her soul to an eternity in Tir na Nog – her soul with rot in her body in this god-forsaken place far across the sea – it couldn’t end this way!
Mordred stood back watching, smiling as her body jerked violently on the rope, her fingers working desperately to get under it to no avail. He waited a full minute, his face beginning to fade as her vision began to darken around the edges, waiting until her struggles began to weaken as she began to run out of air, staring into her fading eyes as she begged wordlessly. With her vision on the very precipice of fading entirely, she saw him undo his pants, pulling out his stiff cock and leaning forward – and sinking his entire length into her clenching cunt. Merielle would have moaned as her already sore hole was raped again, but the truth was she could barely feel it over the pain in her neck, in her lungs.
Her vision was like a cave, only a narrow window that she could see her new Master through, and her ears roared like she was swimming through rapids. Mordred’s cock drove into her over and over again, fucking her roughly while tears flowed from her terrified eyes, thrilling in the way her body trembled against him. Then she got a gasp of air, a single, greedy sip of oxygen. Mordred was fucking her hard, hard enough that it was lifting her up momentarily – each thrust loosened the noose around her neck for a bare instant, and Merielle found that she could drag in a single short, tortured breath with each agonizing thrust.
His cock was literally life to her now, and she gasped around each thrust into her, mentally urging him to fuck her harder if only so she could breathe more. She desperately wrapped her legs around it, looking for all the world like a whore in heat as she tried to press her body upward, desperate for a single extra breath to prolong her life. Mordred seemed obvious to everything but the tightness of her pussy, how she felt to fuck as she struggled for life.
“Briaca,” Mordred mumbled as he leaned forward and bit her breast. The pain of that Merielle still felt through her daze, a sharp, piercing pain that was far greater than she could have expected. “The first blood I ever tasted,” he hissed, mouth full of the selkie’s firm breast. “Just as sweet as I remember…” His hands raked over her flesh, squeezing her other breast, gripping her crimson hair, holding onto her ass cheek and crushing it between his strong fingers as he pumped her pussy raw.
She was losing the struggle for air, her vision darkening again – not enough air, just not enough – and just when she felt like she couldn’t hold on any longer, Mordred moaned in pleasure, his head tilting back as his cock exploded in her, flooding Merielle with his thick cum. He leaned into her, holding her up with his weight now as he grunted, his cock convulsing in her. She had a few glorious breaths, enough to fight back the darkness until he slid free of her legs, his cock tearing its way out of her as he stepped back, watching again as she dangled.
As she gasped, suffocating as she was hanged yet again, Mordred looked at her appraisingly. “You’re close…” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not her. I used her up thousands of years before you were born – but you’re good enough. In truth, I regret I never got a chance to show her what I can do like this – what I became because of her. You can experience it for her – and if there’s any justice, you can tell her on the other side, because I’ll never make it there.”
Merielle was more than half dead before he yanked on the rope again, freeing it from the peg holding it and letting her drop to the ground in a limp heap, her legs giving out entirely as the noose loosened, letting her breathe again. Merielle took in great, ragged breaths of sweet oxygen, more precious than anything she had ever owned, even her seal skin. The coolness of it burning against the ragged, blazing pain in her neck.
Slowly she caught her breath, noticing the two neat holes in her right breast where he had bitten her, still slowly leaking blood. It still arched, worse than she thought it should, and even though she could breathe now her eyes were wider than ever in terror, knowing the kind of monster that owned her now, that had her skin.
“Get out, whore,” he ordered cold – and Merielle didn’t hesitate. She scrambled to her feet and ran out the door, down the hall and back out into the club and the smoke and music, down the stairs, ignoring all the men leering at her now naked body. She wasn’t sure where she was going, what she was doing, where she would have stopped if Yuki hadn’t suddenly grabbed her arm, pushing her against one of the columns holding up the balconies. They were stylized to look like trees, and she felt the rough bark against her back – but it was cold, like hated iron, on her back. How she longed for the seas, where everything was simple!
“Now,” Yuki said calmly as she glared into Merielle’s eyes – so softly she could barely hear it over the music. “You are going to come with me. And you are going to tell me every single thing that just happened.”