Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 20-7

Chapter 20-7
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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 17:59

Sylvia Malter was only a couple of minutes late, a little late with an urgent call. When a summons came from Lady de Fell, it was all right to be late or even not to accept it, but there had to be a justification for it, or, if you decided to confront her deliberately, a willingness to do so. So far, this toothy creature, who was not her sister in the scarlet drop, but only a human, though almost a master of magic, was confidently pressuring and in small steps subjugating the nest to her will, making Sylvia and her chicks her personal fighting units. She knew this, of course. She had planned to leave the city in five or six years. She had even prepared some escape routes, not to another full-fledged Free City, but to a smaller settlement, but that would be a start. Now that her submissive and most valuable toy had given Sylvia access to the ladder of full omnipotence, those plans could be reconsidered.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 07:48

She was sure that her shaman, her Pann, her pet and slave, could easily turn de Fell into a dog, a pussycat, or a sleeping agent of the Northern Lords at her will. The realisation of such power, such might, that she could unleash on an enemy was intoxicating better than blood. Almost as much as the possibility of being guaranteed to be no weaker, capable of the same things, even better. At such moments, she was overwhelmed with an unbearable sense of triumph, of victory, of utter triumph that made her want to pop her big pale barrels and tug, tug, tug her only slightly less pale nipples to another orgasm. Alas, time and business prevented one from doing only what one wanted to do all the time. That is, the new steps on the Tablet's feet. She had to devote many hours to what had brought her to what seemed to be the most important heights - the nest and the position of the nest in the mortal world.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 07:50

It was funny, to the grit of her fangs and the taste of blood coming out of her gums, but what used to be her strongest trump card, her support and beacon, her nest, was no longer helping at all, quite the opposite. She no longer needed reagents and treatises on alchemy for practice, no longer needed to perform tasks for the Northern Lords and mighty Ancients to gain their favour and crumbs of knowledge, no longer needed to maintain a network of puppets and mere informants. Everything she needs will be given to her by the Tablet. All the weak points will be covered by the power of obedient Pann, who would do anything for a chance to be under its spell, for one kiss on her second lips, for one look at her pale breasts. Except that you can't just take and change your habits as abruptly as possible, discarding everything you've built up over centuries, you just can't! It's questions, it's suspicion, it's trouble, it's the risk of being exposed. And an exposed vampire is always either a fugitive or ashes.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 07:56

She had to keep up the façade, not to give away her increased strength, new knowledge, new power, new facets of her gift, and the degree of knowledge of the Scarlet Drop. It was not difficult. It was even pleasant, if only because it was necessary to hide strength, but not weakness. But how angry is the impossibility to rush at once into self-development, weeks and months honing her, now only her own, knowledge, hunting all sorts of evil or just old enemies, to take full advantage of having a loyal animal, which is still stronger than her and will be for a long time! Anger has long been her not advisor, but a prisoner of the cage of absolute self-control, a fuel for motivation and aspirations, but still, it was difficult to restrain the irritation breaking through here and there. The rudeness and superiority of those who were now just food for her, those who would fall at the mere sight of her, who would not stand a single minute in a fight against her, but still thought of her as a beautiful semeness. She had loved to pretend to be weaker than she really was before, but now, through this inordinately widened gap between what others saw and what she had become.... Oh, the scarlet drop, how it made her angry, how it pissed her off.

Camrad_RIP 01.04.25 в 18:45

Also, Jaspera had fallen off the deck again. Now she must wait for her to properly work her beastie with her //big pale barrels while the toy dreamed of her //sweet juicy slippery lubricated savoury tits! Sylvia cautiously peeked into Panna's assigned room, but found Jaspera already fully immersed in her work, which was not to be interrupted for a moment. She was dressed in a ridiculous-looking country dress, and her gaze was as blank as Pann's, shaking her oiled breasts a few palms away from the boy's face. The boy just stared, not even trying to clench the pulsing rod in his fist, ready to discharge at any moment. Jasper knew what she was doing, and Pann would only be able to finish when he was authorised and ordered to do so.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 07:59

All the boy could do now was sit in the chair, ignoring the twitching cock, and stare at the thing that had consumed his mind and would not soon let go. His hands rested relaxed on the armrests of the chair, his smile as stupid as it was empty, his eyes moving unerringly to follow the dancing nipples on Jaspera's //large, pale barrels. The rod pulsed in readiness to pour itself out, even his balls seemed poured with power and almost glowed with a vicious pinkish glow, and his lips whispered softly full of passion://++ ‘Laghan! Laghan! Laghan!’ something unintelligible. After watching the couple for a while, and feeling how pleasantly the seed she had drunk not so long ago was splashing inside, a lot of seed, no less than a couple of large goblets, seed full of power and some newly appeared //++unfamiliar berry-cherry sweetness, Sylvia left the couple and went to Jaspera's now empty office.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:02

Yes, they were all well aware of the problem of their low numbers, just as well aware of the need to have each other's backs when needed. In times of need, Sylvia could also sit down and deal with the procurement of food for the servants, paper, household amulets, and ritual reagents she could. But she was resentful that the treasurer of her nest was now shaking her //juicy savoury sweet lubricated slippery tits and she had to work. And she did work for about three hours, successfully completing all the checks and even putting her seal on, happily leaving the desk, just closing the inkwells behind her. She always had enough coordination, so she had no trouble holding it up and not knocking over the contents even when the Tablet itself spoke to her, expressing the will of the one who had given this Tablet to her toy.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:07

System assignment (medium): help the group leader and Tablet bearer free themselves from control by an unknown force; do it quickly and without giving the group leader a time to react.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:07

Reward: three free transferable talents (only transferable to other members of the same group); one rank increase in all meta-skills; two rare tokens, one random artefact from the system shop's list of special items.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:08

Note: The reward for the assignment has been increased by the will of the System Administrator.

Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 18:00

Sylvia was conscious of these images for a while, trying to understand what she had received as a task, so atypical and with such an outstanding reward. In the past, she had only been given small tasks, which she had also valued and carefully completed, sometimes rewarding her not only with experience but also with more material rewards. For example, a protective necklace based on a blood ruby. The kind of artefact that only a master artificer very skilled blood mage, could create. Or vice versa, a master of the living and for the living created by the school of blood, which has famously developed the skills of an artefactor. But such a reward for such an assignment was perplexing and simply suspicious. Why would the Tablet even think that Pann, her completely submissive pet, was under the control of some other power than her own?

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:18

It was silly, delusional, and impossible, so delusional that Maler almost dropped the inkwell, forgetting to twist it all the way back on, just so he could tear the clothes off her pale tits and start pensively pinching and stroking those delicate and impossibly sensual nipples. Okay, the task itself didn't require her control to be removed, and she wouldn't. It was such a risk, such a danger, to bring such a powerful boy to consciousness. But we can check to see if he's under any other control, can't we? She didn't like anyone to play with her toys. She hadn't liked it since human and mortal life, and she didn't like it now in the eternal non-life. After all, no one will charge her with a bag of gold and gold sandals for a mere inspection, will they? But it's just nonsense even to think about such a thing is stupid, it's better to stroke the nipples on her tits a little more....

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:23

"...a-a-ah!" She was cumming and almost forgot, but then her leg failed her in an unexpected weakness as for so experienced undead. Her sense of balance, switched off by the orgasm, failed her once more, causing her to fall on the heavy wardrobe in which Jaspera kept her clothes, refusing on principle to move it from the study, where, apart from the only wardrobe with clothes, all the others were filled with papers, contracts and books, mostly counting books. "Ouch!"

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:25

An unexpected pain, and a heightened one. It's more sensitive than pleasure of fondled tits. It caused her to go into an inanimate phase, to jump up and get to her feet, releasing Bloody Claws. The pain has already passed, the small wound on her forehead is rapidly healing, and Sylvia looks perplexed at her tall, gold-colored open-toed boots, realizing with surprise that she was knocked by the heel of the boots that fell out of her treasurer's closet. The heel was also lined with a soft and impractical gold coin, in the style's color. The solar priests had obviously consecrated the coin itself, so it burned her, not severely or dangerously, but very tangibly, enough to put her in full combat mode. Sylvia stares at this boot in bewilderment, amazed that such a thing was even in Jaspera's closet. Although she likes to wear something screamingly impractical when she's in the mood, she did, or rather she did seventy years ago. She also felt that even without stroking her now completely desensitized nipples, which had become as dead as the rest of her body, she seemed to lose focus of consciousness and forget....

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 07:48

Sylvia Malter was a very skilled bloodsucker, despite her relatively peaceful nature and development towards Bloody Patronage and Bloody Resonance Control. With the acquisition of the Soul Tablet, she became even more dangerous. And here, on her traditional battlefield, in her inanimate phase and agitated by the holy heel that had burned her, she reacted to the fleeting feeling exactly as she had been accustomed to reacting since the days when she had been taught to resist imperceptible suggestion by her parents' older fledglings. It took her less than a moment to intensify and deepen the inanimate phase and focus on parts of her thin body, blocking some of the auric channels in her brain and blocking the auric node responsible for short-term memory. Realizing perfectly well that the impact of her renewed and intensified influence just has to be very strong and skillful, the bloodsucker makes her bet.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 05:55

She looks at her own palm, hanging in front of her face and curled in the traditional gesture of the jungle tribes of the South, signifying something like “I am sick and contagious, stay away from me and my house,” and does not remember why she folded it that way. But she knows that she has trained herself to react to such a sign in her own performance, although the meaning of this sign for her personally is different: “working suggestion, dangerous to remember, threat of defocusing the mind and adjusting the thinking to a pattern”. She is used to believing herself, and therefore she reacts almost without delay and doubt, starting to remember what exactly she was going to do, without even thinking about for what reason and why she does it.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 05:56

The toy, her favorite pet, Pann, so skillfully licking her flower... for some reason, she has to order him to check himself for outside control. She knows for a fact that he is under her power and it is that control that he will not reset in any way, not even willing to reset. Similarly, she knows that any variant in which he was subjugated or influenced by someone else is a priori so stupid that she should pull herself by the nipples and forget about this foolishness. Only Sylvia is used to trusting herself and therefore does not think about why she does what she does, does not think about the reasons, just mechanically making a decision in agreement with the pattern of actions and not remembering the reasons that made her apply this pattern. And she can't caress and stroke her nipples with her fingers anyway. In the inanimate phase, her sensitivity doesn't perceive pleasure, and she reacts to pain only with a dry and indifferent awareness of damage.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:00

Sylvia doesn't button back her already torn clothes, nor does she put away the things that have been scattered in her overstuffed closet for forty years. She goes exactly where the loyal Jaspera is working on Pann. He is still sitting in the chair, silent. Only his cock is throbbing and his pupils are watching the shaking and oiled tits, not taking his eyes off the big and beautiful nipples. The first thing she does is go behind the boy's back and catch the blank stare of Jaspera, who is in a trance even deeper than her victim. She activates both the Gaze and the Scarlet Patronage at the same time. She overrides the strange control of someone else, which comes through several cups of the treasurer's swallowed Pann seed. There is nothing strange about that control. She shouldn't perceive it as strange, and she doesn't. She just acts according to a pattern. She has literally braided her mind, and therefore knows no doubts or limitations. Her mind claims that this control through the Pann seed should not be blocked and should not be noticed either, that it does not exist, but the algorithm embedded more than a century ago demands to disarm and put into trance everyone, in general, everyone who is near the main target.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 08:02

A blow of patronage and an order to scorch the blood, or rather the semen, a blow of will from her eyes and the same order, an override of control over Jaspera's body and aura. She feels a similar type of patronage on herself too, also through many sips of delicious and useful shamanic semen, she knows that this control is correct and not dangerous, that she should obey it and not notice it, but she is in the inanimate phase and under the directive of self control, and therefore she does what the directive says, though she does not understand why to destroy such a pleasant and tasty control at all, why to burn such a sweet, nourishing and tender semen. It doesn't matter, a moment later the echo of not particularly strong control simply disappears, displaced by Sylvia's aura and scarlet droplet, burns away with the non-blood, giving a temporary boost of strength and burning out all impurities. A working method. It's always a working method. It's the reason why only a more powerful vampire can poison or control a vampire with blood, well, or seed. The unknown and not at all suspicious controller was not a vampire, and the control was still taking root. It was not crude and almost invisible. She was sorry for what had happened. She knew for a fact that it was not necessary to get rid of the seed and the controller, but the directive was leading her, leading her more than will and decisions.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 08:23

Not even a moment passes, Pann is just beginning to move, for Jasper, who has stopped shaking her lubricated tits, and he, too, seems to be connected to the same source of control as she is, through the seed. Sylvia knows for a fact that this control must not be broken, but the directive says otherwise. She has spent years teaching it, hammering into herself the order to listen to the directive, not herself, in case of activation. Only Sylvia could activate her, only she could determine the depth of activation, and now it was at its maximum, only she could determine the importance of such an act. Yes, such a trick could be used against a vampire, or even a living one if it possessed an analog. Yes, it was an actual bookmark, a trigger-activator, which in skillful hands could be used by the enemy. But it would be much easier for the enemy to catch Sylvia and subdue her with long and thoughtful work than to unnoticeably open her defenses, sift through her mental shell, find a not at all obvious bookmark, and use it to subdue her. Against someone with the power to do so, Malter would have little chance anyway, regardless of the directive. It was with such thoughts that she had once taken the risk and undergone this training. That's why she doesn't hesitate, though her whole being cries out against it, that's why she acts before the strange control on Panna takes over even more.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 08:41

In the young man's hands is a doll that exactly replicates Sylvia's appearance and aura, but that's the norm. She doesn't attack the doll, no, only Pann himself, only him. The eye-to-eye glance manages to still a little before the order goes out already to the puppet, piercing the will of the young man caught off guard, infusing his mind and spirit with Sylvia's will. Less than a fraction of an instant to let his will sink deep enough, gently and harmlessly cutting off any attempt at resistance, and then to give the orders aloud. It was out loud, there was no Blood Patronage on Panna, and he had to hear her will or it wouldn't take shape into something concrete.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:02

"Freeze." Her first command sounds quiet and indifferent-dead tone, and she, making sure the command is accepted by him, continues. "Don't fight. Don't defend yourself. Submit. Obey. Obey. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep."

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:03

A wave of foreign power passes through her beloved pet's aura and body, spreading from her groin and throughout the aura. Sylvia knows this force, knows that it is a good force and doesn't need to be resisted, but there is no use. She doesn't control herself to submit to someone else, even though she's pretty sure she should. Instead, she blocks the attempt to override her compulsion, suppressing it gently and harmlessly for Pann, ensuring that the boy's cock reflexively releases a very long and strong jet of semen, and in doing so absorbs some of the reserve, covering the wall and ceiling with a white mass. He would have covered Jasper, but she, obeying the patronage command, moved to the wall and stood motionless there.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:06

"Go back to sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep." Says and says Sylvia, methodically, mechanically, time after time pushing through a little more of the young man's resistance, clearly increased since their last training session of resisting her eyes, finally achieving the desired result. "Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Asleep. Now begin the aura and spirit run in afterburner mode, burning out all control on your mind except for my influence."

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:07

Within the framework of her directive, there seems to be no doubt that it is her control that cannot be affected or removed in any way, only someone else's control, even if her consciousness considers it a mistake, demanding to caress her nipples and forgetting that this control exists at all, either on her or on him. It is good, probably, because she does not feel any control over the boy, but, as in the previous cases, the consciousness outlined by the directive does not react to this, continuing to help the boy to free himself from invisible fetters.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:08

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Camrad_RIP 03.03.25 в 18:00

Sylvia's attack was both swift and absolutely fucking sudden. After all, there had been no foreshadowing. He had created and tested all the reassurances himself, fine-tuned them regularly, and knew for a fact the strongest of his dolls could not physically come up with the idea of attacking him. But what he was counting obviously had nothing to do with what was actually happening. One moment he was still on the verge of orgasm, watching hypnotized Jaspera in her peasant gown shake her lubricated breasts, and the next moment his head was thrown back by strong fingers and the scarlet eyes of the High Vampire struck him with a subjugating gaze of maximum intensity. Had he been fully conscious, had he been ready, his newly enhanced consciousness and spiritual body would have managed to resist until the moment when he would either counteract or simply switch off Sylvia through her doll. History, practice, and Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin critically disliked the phrase ‘if only’.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 08:59

To be fair, he did manage to summon a doll of his subordinate from his spiritual pocket, and even began to reach for it with his will, seeking to simply and uncomplicatedly chop the toy off before it fell into catatonia. No mind, not even reflexes. He should not disarm her, but rather clutched the doll in his grip immediately and broke it along with the mirror of the main envolt. He would have lost Sylvia, but would have been saved from defeat. Alas, he still valued Malter too much. He'd gotten too used to her and also never managed to cultivate in himself a healthy cynicism and a willingness to be betrayed on either side. And also, just before, he was in a completely inadequate state, having been on the verge of an increasingly elusive release for several hours now. In such a situation, in such a time crunch, his exhausted consciousness was unable to react in time, not even his combat reflexes helped.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:10

At one point, for a split second, he thought he was going to make it, when a sudden wave of power came from his loins that tried to wash away the effect of Sylvia's gaze with a wave of berry-honey sweetness, but it only came out in the changed configuration of the bloodsucker's influence, the way it suppressed resistance. And it also just poured out when he, already sinking into helplessness, suddenly cummed with such force that he nearly injured himself with some of his thin bodies. Fortunately, they were strong and elastic enough to survive both the infusion of another man's power and its outpouring with the orgasm. Orders pounded into his head like multi-ton stones falling on a lake surface, and in an instant he couldn't hold back another blow, completely broken and submissive.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:12

His consciousness was completely empty and devoid of any thoughts. There was only Sylvia's gaze and her words, and that was why he obeyed those words and that will. He had nothing but the vampiress's orders, nor was there any support for resistance. There was no reason, desire, persistence, nothing, just orders. In such a situation, when the main resistance is already broken, it is extremely difficult to twist out of control. In the arsenal of the senior shaman and specialist in witchcraft and envolts, of course, some tricks could help now. But they were either complicated, or dangerous, or did not guarantee success, or they could become an additional lever of influence on the mind if the enemy became aware of such precautions.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:16

His busy schedule and the strange laziness had been haunting him lately, preventing him from looking into such matters deeply enough. Though he had sincerely intended, for example, to make his own envolt doll and set up the transfer of any influences from himself to the doll. It was even possible not to keep it at his place, even in the same underground halls, but to give it to his favorite sister or to some unfamiliar and never seen pretty village bitch with sweet juicy lubricated slippery village tits, for storage, so that no one's hands could get to such a vulnerable thing. It didn't work out, he didn't have time, he couldn't, he didn't succeed, he failed, and a hundred other “don'ts”, which led to the fact that he looked at Sylvia with an indifferent gaze and was ready to do her bidding.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:18

The order is received, the order is understood, the order is obeyed, and Stepan begins the standard run-through-cleanup, carefully skipping the impact of Sylvia's eye. He doesn't ask for reasons. He doesn't look for an excuse. He just performs, first the standard cleansing, which he already does regularly and used to do before he got bored, followed by the advanced versions. He doesn't find anything suspicious at first, unless you count Malter's stealthy control, but he doesn't stop, goes through the configurations, restores his meta-skill reserve, and continues with more diligent investment of that reserve. Again nothing, only the faintest traces of some residual fluctuations, but he does not allow himself to stop.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:21

The strange pulse coming from the still tense dick seemed to be trying to create counter-pulses, not interfering with his search, but waves infused into the movements of his aura, shifting his perception slightly. If to him, a couple of minutes earlier, this would have seemed normal, now he simply mechanically perceived the interference as precisely an interference with his task, with Sylvia's words and her orders. Changing the configuration abruptly and already based on the received data, isolating the auric nodes located in the groin, in the scrotum itself, and then switching to active pulse scanning. And not stopping the work with the mind, looking for all kinds of lacunas in the parts of the subtle body responsible for memories. It turns out to be not so difficult if there are no distracting factors, if it is physically impossible to distract oneself and stop searching.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:23

Blurred memories, vague shadows, fragments of thoughts. Nothing serious, but it was a clue to his knowledge, a reason to intensify the intensity of the reserve, a reason to strengthen the influence on these very areas. At first, only certain fragments, weak points, and places were distorted or wiped out insufficiently. In any case, even the most skillful suggestion will be such points, it is in the very nature of mental magic of any type, if we speak about deep bookmarks and activators. These samples are good, even beautiful, and strengthened by a certain general force, a viscous flow of tenderness and honey, berry sweetness and spicy tartness, which the willless mind interprets as quite obvious, though initially disguised, demonic foulness. The reason to start not even to panic, but literally to squeal a little bitch, but Stepan had no will, and so he only silently accepted the new information, acting with it in mind.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:25

The dam burst already on the remnants of the reserve, which had to be renewed once again, now with a Token. He had already used up the charges of his meta-skills, constantly replenishing his seed after superstormy orgasms, when his vampires swallowed unnaturally abundant seed in liters. Blurred out memories, which never went anywhere, just weren't perceived as anything outside of the usual background of thoughts. Distorted memories, which weren't exactly as he remembered them. Scuffed pieces of memory that were completely lost in the daily grind. Compulsions, activators, mental ticking mantras of constant repetition, enhanced cravings or diminished brakes, reworked associative chains. Had he been in a normal state, he might have said his brain could have been used as an anatomical manual to study the textbook gradual-processing-subjugation of the subjugating type. But, alas, let his run and point distortions of the spiritual body hurt Sylvia's control, but she was constantly renewing it.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:29

The shaman stares fixedly and uninterruptedly into the scarlet eyes and tries not to interfere with her control, mechanically noticing details, but not paying attention to them. The vampiress's face was now completely still, distorted, her cheekbones slightly changed, her jaw stretched, and she became the true embodiment of the ominous valley. Such a Sylvia did not arouse carnal desire or admiration for her appearance, did not fall under the archetype of the gothic lady vamp, no. Such a one she was, exactly a deadly and very old bloodsucker, a creature with no true life but who feared death, paying for her sojourn between two states with the blood of others. It was also a reason to be afraid, but just the same, Stepan didn't care now. He was completely immersed in the process of removing compulsions, uprooting bookmarks, suppressing activators, and, of course, restoring memories to normal.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:32

Pirius's request for herbs, the cramped storeroom, the unstable staircase, on which the sales clerk, who introduced herself as Gelda, stood, barely holding herself up, chatting cheerfully in peasant speak. The absence of underwear on her and a good angle, that makes it easy to see the pussy, which are so inviting, attracting the eye. Continuing the conversation with Gelda already standing on the floor, losing the thread of the conversation, the memory of her pussy glistening from under her dress, which took up all the space in his head. Trying to overcome the excitement and the image of the wet and inviting petals of her flower, which made him stagger on his feet. Any attempt to summon an entourage or unleash spiritual claws only makes the image of pussy even more intense. The thought of attack - pussy. The thought of defense - pussy. The thought of wrongness - pussy, any thought at all - pussy, until there are no thoughts at all, just pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy pussy. The last moment before the loss of consciousness, the remnants of strength and mind, long ago switched to spiritual thinking, but a viral image-memetic germinates in the spiritual body, manages to burn out the attack for a moment before he turns into a submissive and obedient shaman-idiot.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 09:12

A hitherto hidden infernal force, eyes watering from long immobility without blinking, dizziness overcome, Gelda standing in front of him, her dress down and her already greased breasts exposed. A long conversation, during which he still tries to object, not realizing that he is being mentally corrected, while the one who speaks through the mouth of the saleswoman instills in him an obsessive fetish for big-breasted peasants, their manner of speech, the cut of their clothes and, of course, the size of their tits. Forcing him to agree to forget something as long as the peasant tits are not removed from his face, forcing him to agree to remember something else as long as she lets him touch her nipples with his lips. Inducing a second fetish for the oil that covers the large breasts, an unnatural desire to fuck women between the breasts, necessarily large and soft, pre-lubricated and preferably peasant breasts.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 09:15

Oblivion, return, meeting again after the epic with the Kingdom of Worms, new chains of suggestion and association, frank conversations, when he talks about himself, his real name, the system and other trivialities that cost much less than a touch of his tongue on Gelda's tits. The taste of cherry and honey, of vice and passion on his lips and hers, on her cunt, which he licks willingly, seeing the same tits in front of his eyes, licking to keep seeing. Gelda, sitting on his face, literally suffocating him to unconsciousness, putting new and new compulsions into his head, forcing him to ignore the obvious, forcing him to do what was put into those compulsions, to make himself as open and as dangerous as possible to the one who spoke through the mouth of the peasant.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:35

Choose the most useless second class possible. Do as little business and pumping as possible. Spend as much time as possible in the company of vampiresses and their big, oiled breasts. Oils that Sylvia's servants, on her orders, bought from the same shop where Gelda works. Some of the compulsions don't work. The enemy's actions are as smooth and harmless as possible, unnoticeable and insidious, and therefore, at first, especially after choosing the anniversary property for thirty levels, they are weak enough for logic and common sense to prevail. He gets off the hook at some point, but makes life much more difficult for the creature, forcing it to act more brutally during the next encounter. The scene with Singha, who almost managed to help him, who almost got him off the hook, who just lacked determination, who needed not to shut up at his behest, but to continue to press, to torment his unstable mind with words and to force him to notice the distortions in his mind. “Almost” is almost like ”if only.” The attitude of history, practice, and Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin to these terms is quite identical.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 09:02

This time in that tavern is not only a short-haired bandit playing the role of an innkeeper, in company Gelda. Now the demoness herself is there, a sweet little sister who loves her brother very much. Harsher compulsions, an even stronger reinforced fetish for controlling those who think they are controllers. It is an unequivocal mockery, the very thoughts of him constantly repeating the verbal mantra, but laughing with Sylvia doing the same, a mockery of him, a game of minds and psychologies that he is hopelessly losing as he sinks into debauchery. A visit to his little sister becomes a turning point. Now she has a much stronger influence, spends much more time questioning him about all the details. Now she doesn't just force cum out the memory of her name out with the seed. She's erasing the demonic threat from his perception altogether. He stops even noticing the obvious traces of infernal energy, stops realizing that such a threat could even exist.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:39

She also provokes him to tell him the full story of all the tricks he has been plotting against her, forces him to tell everything, forces him to endow her body with characteristics and two properties at once, to endow both her puppets, the bandit and the peasant. She asks to be accepted into the group, beckoning access to the peasant's oil-covered breasts, which for him has already become analogous to a dose for a heroin addict in withdrawal, but something in him rises, refuses to do something so intimate. She can make him do it, but for some reason she hesitates, preferring to look for a workaround, playing out the scene for him and misses at the smallest things, he hears the distorted name of the earth game, corrects her and wonders how it is possible not to know such an elementary thing. One thought pulls a cascade of new ones and the infuriated demoness turns him off anew, this time no longer demanding that he be included in the group. She could have done so, but even now her influences are very numerous but minimal, leaving no trace even with an extremely diligent search.

Camrad_RIP 04.04.25 в 09:00

He is entangled in a web, a multitude of subtle and feeble compulsions, each one insignificant in its own right, and yet she is wary of making him overly her own, as if for some reason she can't do that. As if it were somehow critical that he come to her on his own, without being her slave and contractor. In all the processing, non at all any form of soul-selling contract or deal-making was brought up. None at all, though there was nothing stopping her from almost immediately buying the isekai's eternity for the right to kiss the demoness' heels. Technically he still had free will, he still considered her a sissy and could refuse her and Mummy and Auntie, rather than obediently doing his Mistress' bidding. At some point, when she went too far, the demoness would pull herself back, rubbing the back of her plain shirt as if afraid of something.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 09:07

Instead of joining the group, she plays with the templates of his mind, that girls play with dolls. She gains access to his dolls, forcing him, under her supervision, to make a few specific changes. She does not control the dolls, unable to override that control, but scrutinises the control mechanisms, looking for a workaround, and he assists her in every way possible, immersed in a passionate scientific debate, cumming from the realisation of his superiority over her in terms of erudition regarding the work with envolts. A splatter of seed covers the underside of the table they're sitting at, and Sis orders the bandit to swallow what he lets out so as not to distract them all from the dialogue, which she seems genuinely interested in, despite her growing irritation that she still hasn't talked him into accepting her into the group.

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 09:17

The compulsions lay down on the dolls and so the bloodsuckers become more dominant, more authoritative, and his fetish-perversion for playing with those he controls, but which he considers himself to be in control of, is once more intensified and changed. Now he doesn't refuse Sylvia or the other vampiresses at all to do their intimate bidding. Where before he had only chuckled at Sylvia's fantasies of licking her feet, letting her speak and immediately changing her mind to a more acceptable form of sex, now he simply does her bidding, finding it a delightful mockery. A taunt truly worthy of the best trolls, because he finds himself in the mirror role, as if he himself has become Sylvia Malter. He licks, barks on command, kisses her feet, jerks off with her underwear on his face or wrapped around his cock, cum on command, obeys activator-triggers, and does many other things, believing himself to be fully aware of the whole situation and convinced that he's just playing the role of her slave. In some ways, he is right, because he never became her slave.

Camrad_RIP 01.04.25 в 17:43

His sister's palms on his balls, warm and almost scalding, putting something into him, absorbing the magic that feeds the drawings her sister left on the bandit's body. He looks at Gelda shaking her breasts, ignoring everything around him, including the fact the nightmare creature, who looks like a schoolgirl, has built a full-fledged modification into his spirit, body, and aura. Now he has no a priori problems with potency, and his body is ready at any moment to spew litres of seed, impregnated with the demoness's will and magic, her personal foulness, almost insensible, even if one knows of its presence. And he had all these days since that visit diligently fed his dolls this stuff. The pre-made changes through the dolls did not let them realise the problem and forced them to voluntarily tune in to the demoness's control, not to perceive it as a threat, categorically not wanting to interrupt it. The embedded triggers, which could be influenced by anyone, not just Pann, the shifted thoughts, which made them less and less interested in the usual methods of careful paranoia, instead looking for new ways to play with their parents' subjugated shaman.

Camrad_RIP 01.04.25 в 17:47

And so, at the moment of one of suchl games, when Jaspera, immersed in a trance, was plunging Stepan into an even deeper trance, who was repeating time after time, even now hidden behind layers of other, denser compulsions, his sister's name, Silvia came to him, switched off Jaspera, and then subdued him and ordered him to tear off all possible means of control. He did tear them off, finishing only when he had recovered a rough picture of the events. Although the same reason and logic understand the simple truth, if the sister-demon hid her name behind separate blocks of compulsions, then there, behind those separate and carefully hidden compulsions, may hide a lot of other things, including more narrowly sharpened bookmarks. The knowledge of a specialist in brainwashing other people's brains suggests many variants of such hidden-sleeping suggestion - switching off consciousness, evoking various emotions, increasing confidence, some behavioural algorithm, there are countless variants. Given the nature of the demoness and her chosen vice, those options will be from among those approved by the Autogoddess for sure.

Camrad_RIP 01.04.25 в 17:57

"I'm done." Calmly and indifferently, as if a little aloofly, he informs the still-controlled bloodsucker, then involuntarily freezes and staggers on his feet because of the abrupt deactivation of control by the one who covered her eyes. "Oh, fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!"

Camrad_RIP 29.03.25 в 09:19

A rant in a language alien to this world could have summoned another demon right here, but Stepan was not in the mood for humor. The realization of the situation came so abruptly that even the fortitude prescribed in his system properties couldn't fully rid him of the wild mixture of shame, anger, rage, and panicked terror. He knew what demons were, and that knowledge only made him more terrified. Especially when the shroud of oblivion did not hide all the information about the infernal inhabitants. However, it was only thanks to this fear and panic that he did not burn on the spot, turning to ashes from pure shame, or fall into the deepest layers of the Dungeon. Not to mention his burning ass, which, in the language of his namesake, was not only comparable in brightness to the Astronomicon, but overshadowed it the way a supernova explosion overshadows a pocket flashlight.

Camrad_RIP 30.03.25 в 06:41