Puppeteer's Wheel
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Kefka cackled in his hysteria, unable to contain himself as mere seconds were all that stood between him and the destruction of his ultimate prize. Such a helpless, precious doll—a very weak thing if not for such esteemed magical abilities—was inches away from his greatest invention. Truly, this grown woman devolved into the spitting image of a little girl the more that she struggled against the ropes of bondage which kept her standing. The metal circlet glinted under Kefka’s white-painted fingertips, so steady and determined in their descent compared to the way that Terra trembled and struggled in the last moment she could do so, against the inevitability of her fate.
“No!” She howled angrily in self defense, but it was drowned out from behind the heavy wall of Kefka’s uncontrollable laughter—the way she cried out only seemed to amuse him more. Kefka’s laughter was deeply disturbing, the evidence that he was a broken man beyond repair, malfunctioning in every avenue of his unfortunate circumstances. His laughter served as evidence to the endless depths of his depravity.
“Get away from me!”
The horror behind Terra’s last words was so palpable that it made Kefka moan. In it, he realized his new purpose, his new meaning. There was something so beautiful about the way that he could finally understand that. In the differences between them; in the contrast of his supreme control, the way that Terra begged and screamed in holy terror—the way one would naturally shriek in the face of a monster—Kefka could find himself, the reality of his true nature. He finally felt an emotion he didn’t want to swallow and burn. There was something beneath the ash that he wanted to raise, nurture, and grow.
And it all would be provided to him once this cold, gold circlet found its rightful home sinking into the flesh around Terra’s skull.
Kefka guided it, lowering it against the wild, wavy curls of Terra’s moss-colored hair. It glinted and shone in startling contrast. Terra’s face drained of all color, bordering on a darkened blue as she struggled against her fate. She pleaded in earnest, wide eyes staring with a thousand unanswered questions into Kefka’s hauntingly wide smile.
All was soundless as the precious metal collided with Terra’s brow. It was wet, slick against the sweat covered forehead of the girl who it had been destined for as Kefka slid it firmly into place. Terra’s expression changed immediately as it locked around her, contorting in pain once Kefka released his hands and allowed the enchanted artifact to perform its magic for his pleasure.
Terra’s typically gentle face twisted in agony as though she were being pierced in the weak inner flesh of her brain. She groaned like the sow that Kefka thought she really was, her eyes rolling back until they were as white as her pale skin. Her mouth hung open, aiding her in this dance where she had become just as much a fool as Kefka. Her sweat hit the floor loudly. She jolted and thrashed against her bondage, this time without any particular rhyme or reason, her body merely rejecting its own existence as her brain was torn asunder.
“This is who you always were!” Kefka giggled, towering over her so close, so close that he could have tried to rescue her from such a dreadful, cruel transition had he been anyone else—but he was overjoyed to bear witness to it, ecstatic in his front row seat to such a beautiful performance. “Stop fighting it, you pig.”
The last threads of Terra as she had existed before the the slave crown’s mouth clamped down around her were helpless to her destruction. Her mind was bursting. No longer could she perceive anything. She fell into a pit of deep, dark red, as frightening as the sight of her blood might have been. She was locked in the violence of the color until there was hardly anything that remained—until she was hollowed out to become a suitable puppet.
Her body seized, pulsing and jolting as though Kefka had electrocuted her. She cried out as the pain grew intolerable, unbearable, her weakness all-encompassing, a brutal truth. Her legs vibrated as a tremendous seizure overtook her, burning in hot coals of pure pain.
A stream of hot piss escaped, bursting from her in the struggle, fluids rolling down her exposed thighs against her control. Her body was unable to provide for itself or regulate itself. If Terra were at all conscious, she would have been deeply ashamed at even the thought of such a man witnessing her lose control over her bladder—such a basic bodily function that Terra had been forced to forfeit command of.
Kefka watched hungrily as she jittered, panting, the last drops of all that she could hold reaching the messy, shameful puddle she’d made across the floor. Her animalistic moans grew lower, shorter, quieting down. Lines of drool streaked her pale lips. Her eyes gazed blankly at Kefka, unthinking and unquestioning. The fires of her determination were extinguished. She twitched, but accepted the assault, accepted the wiry, tough ropes of her bondage, accepted the way her thighs were dripping with her own piss.
“You’re dreadful. You’re disgusting.” Even though he chastised Terra, Kefka’s breathy voice made his rapture obvious. “How can you thoughtlessly make such a mess of everything you touch?”
He struck her firmly with his hand, her damp cheeks absorbing strokes of white paint. She stayed solid and still, unblinking even when the way he slapped her sent shockwaves rippling through the surface of her skin.
Kefka laughed hysterically.
“Say thank you.” He condescendingly ordered.
Terra blinked, her gentle green eyes devoid of the life that used to glitter behind them. “Thank… you…”
Kefka’s fingers pulsed with an emotion he couldn’t recognize, with a need that made him feel like a hot stake had impaled him.
“Wrong!” He slapped her again, this time with more violence, completely unhinged. He struck her as though it could destroy the need that he felt rising and swelling within him, but it did nothing but fan the flames higher, brighter. “Say it sincerely!”
A strange, subdued emotion crossed Terra’s face, a dreamy rendition of regret and an empty sadness. “I am… so sorry. I’m really sorry, truly.”
Kefka couldn’t contain himself, laughter bubbling from his sardonic grin. “How do you expect to apologize when you cannot understand what you are apologizing for?” Although he savagely punished his new slave, he acted with such unfitting amusement, like a boy playing roughly with toys until they’d reached the limits of their plastic forms. “You stupid , miserable thing.”
Terra was blank to his physical and verbal abuse. Like a flat plane of water she rested, emotionless, totally void unless she were directly addressed and ordered. Even directly in the face of Kefka’s howling laughter, so close to his frightening face that made his clown makeup resemble something closer to an uncanny entity, she was the embodiment of stillness. If one happened upon her without context, they might even think she was a corpse.
“You’ve made such a mess, slave.” Kefka’s eyes flashed to where Terra’s shoes were covered in her own leaked piss. It had sunken into the fibers of the elegant rug that adorned the marble floors. “That rug is more valuable than you could ever hope to be. You’ve ruined it.”
Terra stammered weakly. It took her an embarrassing amount of time to determine the best course of action. Her mind struggled with such a complicated task. She stared down into the leaves and floral patterns embroidered in gold through the ruby red fabric, searching for what she could not understand. Her eyes landed on the pool of her urine but could not recognize it, could not even be puzzled by it or register it. Before long, the question posed to her was lost from her mind and she faded back into a drooling nothingness.
Kefka grabbed her firmly by where her arms were bound together, married with braids of tight rope that made the soft flesh of her arms bubble around where it pinched her so tightly.
“Are you really that useless?” Kefka dug his long nails into her raised skin, not caring either way when soft ribbons of blood pooled down around his fingertips. “Can you not understand what your Master is saying to you?”
Terra—or what little remained of her—stared blankly at Kefka. “I’m stupid.”
Kefka nearly doubled over. Halfway in his maniacal fit, a transformation had taken place within him. Perhaps the heat of Terra’s blood against his fingers had encouraged it, or the way that her gentle heartbeat felt drumming against his palms. Maybe it was in the way that Terra patiently listened to or needed his higher intellect to survive in her new condition. It foamed and fumed within Kefka until that feeling, that desire, had changed him and overtaken him as well.
Without warning, he pulled Terra to the floor, pushing her like one might drag garbage. She crashed halfway onto the thick mat, and the other half of her torso smacked into the cold marble floor. She laid patiently, obediently, unquestioningly. Kefka descended upon her, straddling her, watching as bits and pieces of his form danced in the reflection of the manipulative circlet across her forehead.
“I will bestow meaning unto your wasted life.” Kefka’s tone was aggressive and hateful but his voice was raspy, breathy. He made quick work of the ropes that bound her arms and legs so tightly shut, discarding just enough so he could peel them away from her core, her chest, her inner thighs. She let herself be exposed easily. Even with her humiliating accident so obvious and evident, she was still unflinching, oblivious.
“But first…” Kefka ran his hands up her flesh, against the silky fabric of her flowy dress. He reached for her hair, twirling some of the wispy strands as he spoke with a tinge of empathy. “I have to break you.”
The illusion of his compassion was lost as he cackled at the hilarity of it, howling at the mere concept that he could be anything like the insufferable worm that could no longer writhe beneath his prying hands.
Kefka seated both of his large hands at her chest, grabbing the delicate fabric he found there. In seconds, he was pulling it apart, the material bending and caving to his will with a hiss. He exposed Terra’s humble breasts, the softness of such private skin enticing and erotic. Her nipples were raised from the cold of the air, bright pink, rosier still than her sweet lips. Kefka watched them as he continued to tear her thin dress, savoring the way her breasts bounced before his eyes wandered to the pale purple of her tights. They hugged the middle of her belly, hardly leaving anything to the imagination since they were soaked through. Kefka could see the lips of her pussy through the wet fabric between her legs. He laughed, bringing his hand to press against it, to feel its heat. Of course a servant wouldn’t bother wearing undergarments.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?” His voice really could have passed as gentle. He rolled his fingers against her.
“…No,” Terra admitted. She was totally emotionless as Kefka assaulted her, robbing her of her secrets and her body.
Kefka used his nails to rip through the delicate material of her tights until a hole just the right size was born. He pressed a knuckle against her, pushing in so that it just barely made it to her hymen.
“That’s not true, servant.” He twisted his hand so he could better feel the smooth, wet walls of her pussy thoughtlessly shudder around the invasion. “I’ve touched you like this. You were made to accept me. Your body is mine to destroy.”
“My body…” Terra repeated it weakly, hypnotically. She stared off somewhere across the room, lost in the decorations of the walls and the romantic décor. “My body… Yours…”
At those words, Kefka released himself from Terra, peeling himself out of his clothes eagerly. He glared at her body, disgusted at the way that it made him feel. He gave a few long strokes to his stiff cock, lining it up so close to her that he could feel her hot against him.
He didn’t bother saying anything to her; he grabbed her hips, threw her legs apart, and hilted himself all the way inside her.
Kefka’s eyes rolled back at how perfect she felt. Terra remained motionless, accepting the violation. She was soundless except for her breath, which had grown labored from the pain of being torn through so viciously. Kefka watched the shape of his cock, clear through Terra’s abdomen, cresting her plush flesh. He fucked into her, gentle only for four or five thrusts while he learned the shape of her pussy, trying out the way her slick walls felt as they kissed against the head of his cock. Once the need struck him, he started pounding her in earnest, bending her legs upwards so he could force her into a mating press—a humiliating and animalistic position, so fitting for someone of such lower stature.
The sound of his violent sex grew wet, his heavy balls clapping against her skin. Kefka wanted to imagine that she could hear it and understand it, that such understanding was what made her peach skin flush red.
Kefka moaned, enjoying playing with his new toy according to its design. She squeezed and hugged him perfectly, slotting into her role as a human fleshlight flawlessly. When the pain reached her, she winced or whined, confusion crossing her features only for a moment before fading away into apathy.
“This is how you serve me.” Kefka panted like an animal as he slammed into her, feeling his cock throb as he was brought closer and closer to the absolute brink. “Your purpose is to bring me pleasure .”
He took his time with the word pleasure , wanting it to sear itself into Terra’s simple little mind. Her pussy twitched against him as he said it.
“Yes.” She was breathless under his assault.
“This is all you want.” He tore slices into the parts of her thick thighs that he grabbed. “You want me, your Master.”
A recognition that Kefka couldn’t tell if he’d imagined flashed across Terra’s face. This sliver of her true humanity, of her true nature, the eyes that watered as they stared up at him as he claimed her, sent him falling over the edge, spilling out into Terra’s accepting womb.
“I want you,” Terra whispered. “Master.”