Chapter 31 (A Nurse’s Plaything)

Lady Veyra Valaheimn opened her legs for the third stableboy that afternoon, sweat-slick thighs gripping the man’s hips as he rutted into her with the grace of a jackhammer. Her pearl-studded riding crop lay discarded beside them, its handle glistening where she’d fucked herself with it earlier. She hadn’t always been nobility’s most prolific cumdumpster—but then, Veyra hadn’t always been anything.

Born to a degenerate marquis who believed daughters existed to warm cocks and absorb fists, Veyra’s schooling began at six when her father first knuckled her cunt raw during supper. By nine, she’d learned to spread herself for his hunting hounds, their panting muzzles grinding against her while he bet on which would mount her first. Her body became a tavern: nobles drank from her throat, guardsmen split her asshole, and once, a traveling minstrel carved his initials into her left tit with a hot poker. She bled. She came. She knelt.

Motherhood didn’t soften her. When Mandric Valaheimn purchased her at seventeen—a corroded heiress sold for her pedigree and permanently slackened holes—Veyra discovered power in matching his perversions. She let him fist her cervix during their wedding feast, piss dripping down her stockings as guests nibbled pheasant.

Now, decades later, Veyra’s riding leathers hung open, her pink-tipped breasts swaying as the stableboy’s cock pistoned into her. His fingernails carved crescents into her hips, and she purred when he spat on her face.

“C’mon, bitch,” he grunted, slapping her dripping clit with a calloused palm, “squeeze those fucked-out flaps or I’ll get the hounds again.” She shuddered, thighs quivering as her cunt spasmed, not from pleasure, but habit.

Mandric preferred the other holes. Last Tuesday, he’d invited twelve silk traders to their estate. Veyra spent the afternoon bent over the banquet table, her dress rucked up, asscheeks spread. The first man came in her cunt. The second in her ass. The third down her throat. When the fourth hesitated, she’d snarled through smeared lipstick and shoved his cock into her worned out rectum herself. By dusk, she’d leak enough seed to season soup.

Her daughter’s nursemaid scurried past the stable now, eyes averted. Veyra sneered, arching her back to take the stableboy deeper. Let the servants whisper. Let them gag at the stench of spent men crusting her thighs. Every wadded handkerchief, every sticky smear, every drop swallowed or dribbled down her chin—they were all trophies. Proof she’d turned her father’s lessons into an empire.

The stableboy finished with a snarl, his cock jerking as ropes of cum painted her cervix. Veyra clenched, milking him dry, then shoved him off with a boot to the chest. She didn’t wipe herself. Let it crust. Let it itch. Let the next man taste what the last left behind.

Somewhere, a hound bayed.

She stood, cum seeping down her inner thighs, and reached for her crop before going on her way.

Veyra’s cunt had birthed seventeen bastards by the time Mira came squirming out—each one slid from her gaping hole like discarded trash. She’d drop the mewling pups between her spread legs mid-fuck, Mandric’s cock still spearing her ass as midwives scooped the blood-slick brats into waiting baskets.

“Send that one to the tit-priests,” she’d grunt during contractions, gesturing lazily at the infant while a footman kneaded her swollen tits. Church agents arrived within hours, swaddling the newborns in black satin before carting them to the church’s underground creche, a labyrinth of nurseries where priests trained their “devotional acolytes.”

Every year, gold coffers fattened Valaheimn accounts alongside reports of Veyra’s spawn progressing through the Aria Church’s curriculum. Girls learned to suckle candle wax from bishop’s cocks by seven. Boys straddled gilded dildos during matins, their prepubescent assholes stretched for sacramental gangbangs.

Mandric received weekly etchings of their “lessons”: a daughter bent over a pulpit, her pigtails gripped by three deacons; a son’s lips puckered around a cardinal’s sagging cockhead. He’d stroke himself raw to the parchment, moaning about “harvest time” once the brats sprouted pubic fluff.

When a child turned twelve, hooded friars delivered them to Mandric’s private theater—a soundproofed rotunda where he’d spend days rutting into their church-trained holes. “Such devotion,” he’d coo, fingering a pretty boy’s rosary-beaded rectum or clamping a cute girl’s clit with relic-shaped clamps. The adolescents never screamed. The church made sure of that.

Mira survived the culling only because Veyra wanted a toy that didn’t stink of incense and semen. “Keep this one,” she’d sneered after the birth, wiping placental sludge onto a maid’s apron. Mandric agreed, picturing the girl’s future thighs.

—————————…

Mira’s slippered feet pattered across the rug, her small hands balled into fists. The scent of her mother’s latest indiscretion still lingered in the hallways—musk, sweat, and something metallic. She paused outside the west-wing solar, where Veyra’s muffled laughter seeped through oak doors. A man’s guttural groan followed.

Focus. Her fingernails dug into her palms. The System’s countdown pulsed behind her eyes like a migraine.

[6h 47m until compliance failure.]

Penalty protocols flickered in her mind, vivid simulations of tiny fingers rubbing raw flesh until dawn.

She ducked into the linen closet, wrinkling her nose at the reek of lavender oil and sex-stained towels. Father’s “special” guests always demanded fresh bedding. Nestled between folded sheets, she spotted a lacquered box she’d seen a footman hide yesterday. Inside lay three vials; milky, and shimmering like mercury.

Aphrodisiacs.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Mira shoved the crimson vial into her pinafore pocket just as a maid yanked the door open. “Little mistress!” The woman’s cheeks flushed, adjusting her crooked cap. “You shouldn’t—your mother’s guests…”

Mira blinked, channeling the vacant sweetness expected of a five-year-old. “I’m playing hide-seek with Nurse Eswen!”

The maid’s gaze darted toward the solar’s groans. “Best play elsewhere, dove.” She hurried off, adjusting her stained apron.

—————————…

Nurse Eswen’s quarters smelled of lye soap and fermented goat’s milk—tonics for the “frail child.” Mira perched on the edge of the woman’s bed, swinging her legs as Eswen poured chamomile tea.

“Extra honey today?” The nurse’s calloused hands fumbled with the spoon.

Now. Mira palmed the vial, her pulse thundering. “I fetched it myself!” She held up the honey jar with her free hand, its lid already loosened. As Eswen turned to scold her for touching the pantry, Mira tipped the liquid into the steaming cup.

The drug dissolved instantly.

“Impudent child.” Eswen sighed, lifting the tainted tea to her lips. Mira watched her throat bob.

—————————…

4h 12m remaining.

Eswen’s knitting needles clattered to the floor. “So… warm…” She tugged at her collar, exposing a sweat-slicked neck. Mira backed toward the door, locking it. The System’s approval hummed through her veins.

The nurse’s eyes glazed. “Fetch… your mother…”

“Mother’s busy.” Mira’s voice stayed light, innocent, even as Eswen’s hand crept beneath her skirts. “Should I get a cold cloth?”

A moan answered her.

Mira’s vision blurred as the System’s directives flooded her neural pathways.

[TARGET: NURSE ESWEN. INITIATE PENETRATION PROTOCOL. INSERT INDEX FINGER 2.7 CM INTO URETHRA. STIMULATE ANTERIOR WALL WITH CIRCULAR MOTION.]

The nurse’s thighs splayed, her cotton underthings soaked through. Mira’s hand moved without consent—small fingers hooking into damp fabric, yanking downward. Eswen’s cunt bloomed like a rotten orchid: dark pubic curls clumped with discharge, labia swollen purple. The stench of fermented arousal hit Mira’s nostrils as the System overrode her gag reflex.

[DIGIT INSERTION: IN PROGRESS.]

Mira’s pinky plunged into Eswen’s piss-slit. The nurse shrieked, back arching off the bed as the child’s finger burrowed deeper, knuckle grinding against the spongy tissue inside her urethra. “S-stop—ah! Saints, it burns—!”

[DETECTING INSUFFICIENT LUBRICATION. UTILIZE SALIVA.]

Mira spat onto her free hand, smearing strings of drool across Eswen’s clit. Her thumb found the swollen nub, rubbing frenzied circles while her pinky scissored inside the nurse’s urethra. Eswen’s thighs snapped shut around Mira’s wrist, trapping her. “N-no no nonono FUCK!”

[ORAL STIMULATION REQUIRED. LICK LABIA MAJORA. SUCK CLITORIS UNTIL TARGET ACHIEVES FIRST ORGASM.]

Mira’s tongue dragged through wiry pubic hair, lapping at the nurse’s leaking slit. Bile rose in her throat—discarded by the System’s code—as she sealed her lips around Eswen’s clit. The woman’s hips jackknifed, slamming the child’s nose into her mons. “Devilspawn!” Eswen clawed at Mira’s braids, trying to yank her off, but the girl’s jaw locked.

[ACCELERATE TEMPO. APPLY TEETH.]

Mira bit down. Eswen’s scream curdled into a gurgle as the child’s incisors sank into her clitoral hood. Her finger pistoned faster inside the tortured urethra, each thrust producing a wet squelch. Eswen’s thighs spasmed—a geyser of urine erupted around Mira’s knuckle, drenching the sheets.

[TARGET HEART RATE EXCEEDING PARAMETERS. MAINTAIN STIMULATION.]

The nurse’s pelvis convulsed, slamming against the child’s face as her orgasm ripped through her. Mira drank the spurts of bitter fluid, her finger still lodged in the woman’s pisshole. Eswen’s hands shifted from pulling hair to shoving the girl deeper, hips grinding in feral circles. “M-more—MORE!” she slurred, pupils blown.

Eswen’s grip became bestial, calloused palms crushing Mira’s skull into her piss-slick cunt. The child’s nostrils flared against matted pubic hair—rotten milk and ammonia clogging her airways.

[OXYGEN DEPLETION AT 23%. MAINTAIN ORAL CONTACT.]

The System’s alert flickered crimson as Mira’s lungs burned. Her teeth scraped Eswen’s clit in a suffocating rhythm, tongue lashed raw against the woman’s thrashing urethra.

“Deeper,” Eswen snarled, hips pistoning upward to cram her swollen cunt over Mira’s entire face. The child’s jaw dislocated with a wet pop, saliva and urine sloshing down her throat.

[MANDIBULAR FRACTURE DETECTED. OVERRIDE PAIN RECEPTORS.]

Mira’s molars ground into Eswen’s labia as the nurse began pissing in erratic bursts—warm torrents flooding the girl’s sinuses.

The bed frame cracked against the wall with each brutal shove. Eswen’s thighs trembled, bladder spasming uncontrollably as she rode Mira’s suffocating face. “S’too much—TOO MUCH!” she wailed, yet her hands wrenched the child’s braids tighter. Mira’s vision speckled black, limbs flailing as the System drilled new commands:

[INSERT MIDDLE FINGER INTO RECTUM. APPLY PRESSURE TO PROSTATE ANALOG.]

Somehow, the girl’s free hand clawed backward, knuckles bruising Eswen’s asshole. She jammed two fingers into the nurse’s clenched rectum, ripping a guttural scream. Eswen’s hips jackknifed, slamming Mira’s nose against her pelvic bone. Urine geysered—a pressurized stream battering the child’s lolling tongue.

The nurse’s heel kicked Mira’s ribs, rolling them both onto the floor. Eswen scrambled atop her, cunt smothering the girl’s face anew. “Lick! LICK!” she shrieked, grinding her overstimulated clit against Mira’s lips. The child’s fingers kept plunging into Eswen’s shitting hole, each thrust met with a fresh gout of piss.

[TARGET HEART RATE CRITICAL!]

Eswen’s back arched, cervix slamming Mira’s forehead as her body seized. The flood came hot—a final deluge of urine and squirt drenching the girl’s hair.

[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE COMPLETED. RESTORING STATUS.]

The System’s energy crackled through Mira’s jaw, tendons snapping back into place with a wet click. She gagged on the aftertaste of piss and flesh, her tongue probing the now-smooth joint. +50 FP flashed behind her eyes in gaudy gold script. Nurse Eswen’s cunt juice dripped from her chin.

[CONTINUE SERVICING TARGET. BONUS REWARDS AVAILABLE.]

Mira’s left hand jerked upward without permission, fingers playing against Eswen’s heaving stomach. The nurse’s cunt pulsed inches from her face, reeking of forced orgasms and bladder failure. No no no— Mira’s thoughts curdled as her body crawled forward, knees grinding through puddles of urine.

The System puppeteered her arm, small fingers probing Eswen’s labia apart. Mira’s scream died as her tongue lashed out, lapping at the nurse’s urethra.

[APPLY SUCTION TO CLITORAL HOOD. 23% PRESSURE.]

Her lips sealed around the swollen nub, sucking rhythmically while her free hand jammed three fingers into Eswen’s shit-smeared asshole.

“F-fucking demon—!” Eswen kicked weakly, her heel skidding across Mira’s spine. The child’s body ignored the blows, teeth scraping the nurse’s clit as programmed. Saliva mixed with fresh urine, Mira’s gums rubbed against coarse pubic hair.

[OPTIMIZE ANGLE. TILT HEAD 32 DEGREES.]

Her neck wrenched sideways with force as the System forced her face deeper into Eswen’s wrecked cunt.

Faith Points ticked upward. +1... +1... +1... Each digit flared like a brand.

Mira’s stomach convulsed as Eswen’s fluids flooded her mouth, milk from the nurse’s neglected breasts joining the cocktail of piss and vaginal seepage. The System muted her gag reflex. Her thoughts screamed what her body couldn’t.

‘ I am Aria! Goddess of—‘

[INCREASE ANAL PENETRATION DEPTH. TARGET PROSTATE ANALOG LOCATED 4.4 CM INTERIOR.]

Mira’s fingers twisted deeper into Eswen’s bowels, knuckles shredding the nurse’s rim. The woman’s scream peaked, then broke into wet hyperventilation. Mira’s nostrils flared against Eswen’s clit, inhaling the stench of her own divinity reduced to this—a five-year-old’s face buried in a random nurse’s cunt, fingers pumping a colon full of shit.

[TARGET ORGASM IMMINENT. PREPARE FOR OVERSTIMULATION.]

Eswen’s hips stuttered, her cunt clenching around nothing as dry spasms wracked her body. Mira’s tongue flickered faster, a metronome of violation, while her anal fingers crooked upward. The nurse’s rectal walls convulsed, spraying diarrhea across the child’s wrist.

+10 FP

Mira’s tears dissolved in Eswen’s sweat.

[MAINTAIN STIMULATION. TARGET REQUIRES 3 ADDITIONAL ORGASMS FOR BONUS REWARD.]

Her jaw ached with forced vigor.

The nurse’s hand fisted her hair again.

[BEGIN.]