Raph smirked. “Then make it worth my while.”
Finter wrapped his tentacles around Treycore’s torso, fondling his muscles, groping his flesh.
Treycore felt the head of Finter’s cock at his hole, vacillating between his cheeks, seeming as if it were deciding how it would make its way in.
“Uh-uh,” Finter said. “I gotta get him ready for you, my dear.”
One of Finter’s tentacles slipped around Treycore’s thigh, slid beneath his ass and curled up into his hole.
Treycore ground his teeth as the tentacle forced him open, burning against the tears Raph had made with his sword.
***
Eilee felt something crawling across her back, thin, hard—surely the switch Waller had been beating her with.
“Oh, I’m gonna give it to you good,” Waller said. He crept up beside her, touched the tip of the switch to her face, and stroked it along her jawline.
Eilee tugged at her wrists in vain.
You should’ve stayed home, you stupid bitch!
But she had to be with her Trey again.
“Ah!” Treycore moaned on the other side of the chamber.
My Trey!
She looked at her feet at her dress and mourned its soiled state.
WHIP!
A sharp sting swelled across her back, reminding her of a far more serious threat.
She cried out.
“Show me your wings, cunt!”
The switch slapped her again, the sting just as sharp as the first.
***
Finter drove his tentacle deep into Treycore.
“Ah!” Treycore moaned.
“You feel good,” Finter whispered into his ear.
This was Treycore’s chance.
Turning his head, he bit at Finter’s face, his teeth gripping onto one of the thorns that stretched vertically across the glipper’s cheek. Yanking his head back sharply, he dislodged the piece, which was as hard as bone, from Finter’s face. Black ooze squirted from where Treycore had pulled the thorn. It soiled Treycore’s blond locks and ran down his neck, sliding through the grooves in his back.
He stood on his toes and buried his face into the vines around his wrists. Nodding his head up and down, he used the thorn-bone like a saw and tore the vine open. Red poured from the vine’s fresh wound, spilling down his veiny, flexed forearms.
“Nasty higherling!” Finter exclaimed. He wrapped a tentacle around Treycore’s throat and forced his head back.
Fuck.
He’d torn through less than a fourth of the vine.
