The smug laughter that Lirin projects into her mind is not exactly reassuring.

Lirin operates their body all through breakfast. It turns out that she can shapeshift her outer layers to produce clothes, which she does before the servants arrive.

After breakfast, in violation of Nema's increasingly insistent urge to follow orders and get into bed to fuck herself silly, Lirin pauses in front of a full-length mirror to admire her/themself. Nema's body is almost the same as it was. The sapphire necklace glitters around their neck. Lirin retracts her shifted clothes into her skin-self, and shows off the way Nema's outward appearance is just a little thicker now, hips just a little more padded, breasts just a little fuller. She smiles into the mirror as her tentacles, concealed beneath her skin-self, tease those breasts without the slightest outward sign that anything might be happening. She twists from side to side, watching the sapphires strung on delicate silver chains roll across the upper curves of their chest, lifting their hands to gently touch them; then she does something, shifts herself somehow, and the strands of the necklace are caught and held in place by a nearly invisible layer of some kind of gel. It's silky smooth to the touch when she runs their fingers over it.

Then, for the first time since she took over, she lets Nema have control.

Despite her best efforts, resisting the prince's orders is impossible. She dives into bed and starts masturbating immediately, vivid memories of the prince's cock coming unbidden to her mind as she plays with her clit and her newly sensitive nipples, gropes her own breasts and explores her unbelievably tight cunt. One of her own slim fingers is almost enough to make it hurt; she moans and uses two, and relishes the pain. She shudders in memory of being fucked against the bars of her cell, and hates herself a little for how much she wants him to come back for more.

...but, no matter how much she touches herself, no matter how insistently she twists her own nipples or how furiously she rubs her clit, she never quite manages to come. Having to take a while at it is not that unusual, but Lirin seems to be able to make it happen so effortlessly, it's not long before Nema becomes suspicious.

?! she sends.

Affectionate affirmation: Nema can no longer make herself orgasm without help. The sense that the prince knew this when he gave those orders this morning. Eager anticipation of what will happen when he comes back.

Love mingles with fear and horror. She doesn't want to spend all morning touching herself without hope of release until the prince shows up and rapes her. She wants to run, now, before another moment has passed, before she has to feel this way one second longer.

Trust me, Lirin whispers into her mind. Phantom touches wrap around her body, snug and warm. Want to please you. Want to make you happy. Want to keep you safe.

Nema blinks away tears, and relaxes into her skinsuit's embrace, and brings herself to the edge over and over and over again without ever tipping past it, all the while thinking of the prince and his thick hard cock and how much it hurts when he rapes her.

Lirin's presence is a constant in the back of her mind, comforting her but also teasing her, egging her on with snippets of her own memory or with phantom touches that roam her body, focusing on her breasts and steadfastly ignoring her groin. There's no sign of those penetrating tentacles from earlier, either.

When the prince returns, it's to a scene that is almost certainly exactly what he wanted: his Nema, writhing on his bed, hands flitting back and forth between her breasts and her crotch, desperately seeking the unattainable.

He laughs and pounces, pinning her wrists to the bed and pressing kisses all over her body. She instinctively wants to fight him, but she can't—not because Lirin has taken over, she can still move, she's just utterly incapable of putting up any more resistance than a token squirm or two. It's terrifying and viscerally upsetting and incredibly hot.

A wordless mental touch, amused and affectionate, confirms that this inability to fight back against a rapist is something that was built into Lirin to inflict on Nema, and that Lirin does agree that it's magnificently arousing to see it in action.

And then he fucks her.

After all these hours of relentless self-torment, the first agonizing thrust is enough to send her spinning straight into paradise. She clings to him blindly, sobbing and moaning, unable to think or speak or even coherently process her own senses through the deluge of overwhelming pleasure. He holds her down and rapes her violently, and she loves every second of it, even—especially—the agonizing pain of being fucked while she's so insanely tight.

She loves him. There's no room in her head for violent fantasies, like this, just blissful infatuation. She loves loves loves loves the prince, loves the weight of his body on top of her, the brutal agony of his cock inside her. With great effort, she manages to gasp a few coherent words through the storm of sensation: "love you, my lord..."

He cums hard, shuddering atop her for a long, wonderful, terrible moment.

After, he gathers her into his arms and kisses her forehead. "I love you too, my Nema."

Lirin takes over. The transition is seamlessly smooth. She kisses the prince's cheek, and along his jawline, and makes a happy wordless murmur into his ear, wrapping their body around him in a tangle of limbs and shivering as the change in position makes his cock slide out of their cunt.

"Thank you," she whispers with Nema's voice. "Thank you for everything. It's wonderful."

The prince nuzzles their hair and embraces them warmly, and Lirin exhales a long contented sigh and kisses him again just under the corner of his jaw, and then she sinks their teeth into his neck and swallows a piece. Hot blood spurts down their throat. He chokes and convulses, and she holds him in a loving embrace and drinks until his body goes still.

...there's a part of Nema, and not a small part, that feels like that was really fucking hot. To do, or to watch her friend/lover/mistress do. Either. Both. Maybe especially both.

We have to run, she sends urgently. We can't stay here. We just killed the prince. They'll kill us for it if they catch us.

Lirin hums mental agreement, gets out of bed, licks their lips, finds a scarf to wrap around the prince's throat so it doesn't leak, pulls the blankets up around his chin to make it look like he's comfortably sleeping, and then launches them out the window at impossible speed. They land on a neighbouring rooftop almost before Nema has time to process that they moved at all. Then the next roof, and the next, running at an incredible pace and blurring into insane hyper-motion half the time.

When they reach the river, Nema is terrified that Lirin is going to try to blur them across that broad expanse from rooftop to rooftop and the blur won't last long enough and they'll fall in from forty feet up and either die or break a leg and get caught and executed.

Trust me, Lirin sends, amused.

Then she jumps.

Their body sails into the air, high, higher, higher, higher than it has any right to go. At the apex of the jump, something shifts behind their back, and a pair of massive wings with glossy black feathers like a raven's spring into existence and beat down once, twice, to gain them a little more height.

Laughing fully aloud for the first time in her short existence, Lirin settles into a soaring glide, headed east into the wilds.