Vayal Academy

Something strange happens to Syrene. With Nym sequestered in another plane, her brand is frustratingly weak, and only fragments come through. At first it’s pure panic, horror, which whips the mouse girl into a fucking frenzy. But as her investigation hits dead end after dead end, eventually the link changes. Warmth, security, a sense of total safety. It’s enough for her to calm down and trust the faculty, who’ve insisted they have it handled.

Syrene doesn’t know these feelings are brought by Mae’s fingers, and Nym remains in danger — in fact, she expects she’s on her way back, which means Syrene has a small window to handle something she’s been thinking about all day, albeit in the back of her mind.

She enters Vila’s room like a panther. Alyx greets her with a growl, but a quick flick of Syrene’s wrist establishes the connection and takes her voice away, so all the snapping uselessly against the muzzle is silent.

It’s a silence only broken when Syrene puts a lazy hand on the back of Vila’s desk chair and drags it across the room, the screeeeeech of polished wooden legs on the plain tiled floor cutting Alyx to the bone. She settles it just outside the chain’s slack and sighs Alyx’s sigh.

“What a situation we find ourselves in.”

“-”

“Don’t try to talk. Fucking idiot. How do you not know how it works by now?”

“-!”

“Gods, of course. It’s all symbolic with you, isn’t it? At least I tried. That sort of thing. You- Gods, you’re still going.”

Alyx’s face twisting in silent invectives would be comical if Syrene didn’t hate her so much. Instead it just manages to piss her off. At least she picked the enchantments well — Alyx really does look like a rabid dog.

“Heel.” Like that, Alyx is forced to a polite sitting position, mouth closed. Forced to radiate menace with her eyes alone, she does far better than could be expected. “Where’d it all go so wrong, Alyx?”

The sudden softness, the resignation, catches Alyx totally off-guard, triggers more confusion than anger. Syrene buries her face in her hands and shakes her head like a disappointed professor. A moment later she composes herself. “You’re a fucking idiot. An arrogant show-off. You don’t appreciate what you have. Mae. Or Hattie. Somehow they aren’t enough for you. More, more, more. Pathetic little hedonist. Twisted little pervert.”

Alyx scrunches up her face like come-down-here-and-say-that-in-grabbing-range, which earns nothing more than an eye roll.

“I thought the muzzle would be the end of it. In time, Mae and Hattie will realise they’re better off without you: the two of them together. I should’ve moved sooner, really, before you tricked Hattie into caring about you. That’ll show me to be merciful. But now… Gods, fuck, even this, even when you’re a wretched, chained mutt, there you are, fucking my girlfriend. There’s only one option left to me, Alyx.” She leans down and reaches into her boot, produces a glinting silver knife with an edge almost as sharp as the one in her voice. “Now stay still.”

Alyx’s mind screams — move, move, move! Do something! Do anything! Thrash! Stand! Pounce! ANYTHING! But her body remains rigid, sitting so expectantly on her hindlegs, as Syrene comes around back of her, disappearing from sight. The knife pricks her throat a moment later. It lingers. A trickle of blood runs down her neck, lost amidst her fur.

“But I can’t even do that, can I? You deserve to be put down like the rabid dog you are, but they love you. They’ll never forgive me. And neither will she.” She manipulates Alyx’s voice into something almost tender, but can’t quite get it to fit right. “I have you chained, collared, and muzzled — as you should be — and still, here you are, with almost all the cards.”

Alyx prays desperately that Syrene gets to the end of her monologue without changing her mind, because the dagger’s still right there, and this bitch is fucking crazy.

“Almost all the cards, Alyx.”

The steel tip withdraws, and Alyx dares to breathe again.

Syrene circles back round to the front of her, casts the dagger aside and lets it land softly on Vila’s spartan bed. She holds her palm up, and an image of Alyx’s furious face appears, Nym’s copper hands straining desperately at the muzzle around it. “No, no, no, no; she shouldn’t have done this, no, she has to let you go, she has to! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please, forgive me; I love you, I love you, I love you; you’re all I can think about, I’ve always wanted you, I’m so jealous of them, I wish I was them, I wish you-” Syrene crushes the projection in her fist.

“If this is how she’s going to be — if I can never make her stop, what options do I have? Let her go?” Alyx almost foolishly nods before Syrene’s cold “Never” makes her extraordinarily glad she didn’t. “Maybe see what it is that keeps driving her back to you, yes? Get on my back and see what you’re made of?” This is about the last thing Alyx could’ve expected, but when the alternative’s the knife she’s not going to complain. “Oh, Gods, you fucking pervert, look at that sparkle in your eyes. Here’s the problem, mutt — I don’t do that. So I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully.”

Syrene crouches down, puts her hands either side of Alyx’s muzzle, cradling it as an extension of her face. “I have two options left. The second one isn’t killing you, but you might just wish I did — just, put it this way, you don’t want to know. Hate me all you want, but trust me on that. Let’s hope the first option works. Let’s hope a bit of Mysticism can rein you in.” She tugs on the link.

Alyx feels something hard for her to make sense of. See, she’s always reasoned that she knows plenty of women like her, who were born wrong, and she doesn’t think they’re any less of a woman for it, so them having cocks is, well, whatever — consequently hers is also whatever, because anyone who has a problem with it is someone she doesn’t care for, anyway. And when you refuse to bottom, there are a lot of advantages to having your strap always there, always attached, particularly when you’re the type of girl who likes fucking in gardens and hallways and bathrooms.

That said, there is still a sort of Missing-Piece type euphoria that spreads through her body when Syrene swaps their parts around, leaves her with, for the first time in her life, a pussy.

“This is what they all really love, isn’t it? Now it’s mine.” Her own cock flops out of Syrene’s underwear and slaps against the muzzle. “Now. Present.”

No, Alyx mouths. I don’t do that either. I don’t bottom, I don’t sub, I don’t do any of it. Maybe if you lie back I’ll ride you, as long as we both know I’m in charge. Like I’m doing it in a way that makes that clear. It runs so counter to who she is, so anathema to her core being, that her will overrides the muzzle, and Alyx stays exactly where she is.

“Wow. If it wouldn’t inflate your already unmanageable ego I might even say I’m impressed.” Syrene stamps on the chain like she’s stomping a face, and Alyx hits the ground with a thud. “Now get your fucking hips up.”

She doesn’t move. “This is tedious, Alyx. Nobody’s coming to save you. You’re here, and you’re mine. Put your hips up and wiggle your ass like a good girl or I’ll wrap that chain around your fucking throat.”

The tables have kind of turned here, for Alyx, no stranger to the other side of this dynamic. The problem is, she could resist a thousand threats from Nym or Vila — really, from anyone at the school but Syrene, who really does hate her, probably down to her brain getting all fucked up, or something like that (Hattie told her, once, but she was distracted by the orc’s chest, since she thought the best time to let her in on this whole Nym-Syrene story was while they were naked in bed — the morning after Syrene fucked Mae, come to think of it).

Still, even though Syrene’s scary, Alyx doesn’t sub.

The chain pulls against her throat and Alyx, prideful but smart enough to not give Syrene a reason to get carried away, hikes her hips. “That all I asked?” Syrene says, not actively strangling her but notably not moving the chain, either. Alyx wiggles her ass. “Wag your tail, too.”

Come on. Don’t make me.

“Now.”

Alyx wiggles her ass and wags her little tail.

“Good girl.” Syrene’s hand on her ass makes her shiver with humiliation — it’s like she’s meat. “You know, from back here, you’re not half as fucking annoying. I almost get what they see in you.” Syrene’s cock — which, again, is Alyx’s cock — slides along the lip of Alyx’s pussy — which, again, is Syrene’s pussy. She reaches forward and fiddles with the back of the muzzle; there’s a beat where Alyx thinks she might finally be free of this fucking thing, which has been a complete and utter nightmare, but it remains stubbornly on her face. “Just a little modification,” she says. “Now, you want me to fuck you, slut?”

Her voice returns. “No,” Alyx replies, only realising a moment later — with a jolt of joy like finding that key you’ve been turning the whole house upside down for — that it didn’t come out as a humiliating arf, woof, or growl. “I can-” but then her voice is gone, back into Syrene.

“We both know that’s not what you mean, don’t we? I can feel it. You’re fucking wet for me. You want me. Nobody’s ever beaten you before, but I did. I beat you. I’m going to tame you, mutt, and you’re going to say ‘thank you, Princess.’ Now,” a sharp spank shoots pain through Alyx’s ass, forcing her to think how she’d never let anyone talk to her like that, touch her like that, “beg for it.”

“We can talk this out,” Alyx says, which earns her another spank. “Just listen, o-” SLAP. “Why-” SLAP. “Please, I-” SLAP. “You just-” SLAP. “St-” SLAP. Alyx buries her face in the floor, grits her teeth against the stinging, radiating pain all across her raw ass. Gods damn it. I have to fucking do it. Nothing I say will change her mind. The only question is how much she hurts me before I do. There is a moment, quickly suppressed, where Alyx realises it’s the exact same bind she put Hattie in, back in the cave. Fuck, I wish she were here.

Syrene doesn’t even let Alyx chew through her realisation, breaking her concentration with another sharp smack. “You think I can’t hurt you more?” There’s a popping sound behind Alyx as Syrene conjures with stolen magic, and then the heavy, leathery SMACK of the riding crop against her ass.

“FUCK! FINE! FUCK ME!”

SMACK. “Is that how you should speak to me?”

“N-no, Princess, s-” SMACK. “I’M SORRY, PRINCESS.”

“Better. Now,” Syrene’s tip lingers right against her, warm and waiting, “beg for it.”

“P-please, Princess.”

SMACK. “You must think I’m fucking stupid. You know what begging sounds like. I know you do. Did you forget I’m better than you? I know this trick — you give me the least you can, ratchet it up just a tiny bit if that’s not good enough. But, Alyx, you fucked my girlfriend. I told you to keep your fucking hands off her.” SMACK. “You really need to make it up to me. I want to hear you fucking beg for it.”

FUCK FUCK FUCK I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU THE MOMENT I GET OUT OF HERE I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WITH A MACE. “FUCK ME!” she screams, knowing Syrene is dead serious and seeing that she is, GODS FUCKING DAMN IT, beaten. “Please, Princess, please, fuck me, I need you, I need you inside me, I want you, please, Princess, I’m not worthy but please, I need it, I need you, please, Princess.” She pushes her hips back, knowing it’s what she’d enjoy if the positions were — as they should be — reversed.

Syrene sinks into her with a sigh. “That’s it. Good girl.” She takes it entirely too far by wrapping both her hands around the base of Alyx’s antlers, handlebars for her aggressive, fast thrusts, and the worst part is Alyx just has to grit her teeth (so hard they just about shatter to dust) and take it, because a protest is just going to make it worse. “Under all that arrogance, you’re just a desperate little slut — under all your fiery politics, you’re a slut for Princess cock, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Princess.”

“Good girl. Now fucking take it.”

Alyx does. What else can she do?