Bitch Left Me Hanging

From 1d4chan
Small Book.pngThe following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.
PROMOTIONS-small.pngThis article contains PROMOTIONS! Don't say we didn't warn you.

Done by a writefag named Quello.

The Scourge found himself swinging.

One blink, two blinks cleared his vision easily, wondering what part of the bowels of Malfeas he was in. The room was brass, but there was nothing but lines. If it weren't for the weight of gravity and the faint sensation of blood pooling in his skull, the Wolf wouldn't have even been to discern up or down. He was most definitely upside down, the throb in his head making him feel just a little dizzy.

The Dagger of Hell looked "forward", up at where his body was facing. The smooth walls of brass were broken up by the lines descending straight down. There were even four that intersected with him, binding his legs, his upper arms, his neck, all in surprising softness. He could hear a very faint crystalline clink, but the shadowstuff over it muffled any sort of sound.

He flexed his legs once, feeling the strength of the material behind the wispy shadows as the force pushed him forward, the gentleness of it as he swayed back. He was not going anywhere for a while.

And for a man who had been running forward since he had once looked back and fell, a chance to even think for a moment of his failings was the worst thing of all.

Yet, before he could even head down such dismal things, thin, long, dark fingers brushed gently across his cheek. Even then, he could feel wetness welling up on his face, delicate lines from the razor fingers.

Do not be scared...

The man let his head fall back at the silence, the whisper, opening his mouth to speak a word of recognition.

The hand that covered his mouth was soft, not at all like its fingertips, those needle points pricking at his face as the silence echoed. The Scourge got the message. Do not speak. He mouthed the beloved name, either way.


The Silent Wind removed her hand, covering her own mouth with a mute giggle as she took off, dancing as the element she had become, a maelstrom of scarlet skirts. The Yozi's avatar flashed a broad smile with white teeth the sheen of jade as she glided in the emptiness, coyly around a line to fetch...something. A pale lavender box, almost giving off its own light. A strand of black hair got in her way, and carefully, she crossed her innocent-seeming large eyes and pushed the offending tendril from her sight.

It fluttered down and vanished in a minute cloud of mist, cut away from its mistress.

He couldn't help smiling at how she moved, so full of life, the way her whole body simply flowed like water, dark at one angle, ghostly white at another. Liquid eyes that never could decide a color to stay, only the black of her hair, the unbuttoned vest that pretended at human modesty as it flashed small breasts and pointed nipples, and the bloody claret of the layers around her legs.

Those long fingers left etch marks as she twisted a knob with a pout, setting the box hovering near his waist as it opened, hollow, empty silence in between the notes that seemed oddly seductive. He couldn't see what was within as she pulled a hair from her head again, it straightening, transforming into a bone-sharp needle that caught the line.

Adorjan rose up again, before settling herself on his waist, pink lips parting in a very, very soft moan, the words following in the silence.

All we want to do is make you precious again.

The Scourge could feel his hair standing on end along with another part, where he could feel the softness of her ass against his awakening dick, staring up at his Mistress as she rubbed her fingertips together, replacing a vial into the hovering container before trailing the glossy gold liquid across her smiling mouth. She leaned in for a hungry kiss, a lick of a crimson tongue across his lips before forging with the power beyond a god's, her hands lacing into his hair as she devoured him, as if she was to crawl down his mouth. The Infernal reacted in turn, gripping onto her hips, finding purchase in solid flesh as he ground against her, both rocking slowly in the air.

A fine line of saliva trailed from their mouths as she broke the kiss, but before the Wolf could protest, he could feel a tingling numbness across where she had taken him, the agonizing throb of his head replaced by one anticipating better things.


A word of explanation as they stared at each other, black against now blue as the skies he hated, then she rolled her hips against him, a friction that made his head fall back, his back arching against the glorious sensation of a woman. The Scourge could feel the crown of his swelling dick against cool flesh, like a much needed breeze even if it was as cold as ice as he pushed against her. There was no sound, her power muting it all.

It simply made everything more intense, the only thing he could hear being the rush of air into his lungs, the skip of his heart at her grin. Then she brought the needle down, her vest opening wider to show a small handful of stark white breasts crowned again with red. The contrast of the red circle peaked with a small nub against such lack of color made him wet his lips as Adorjan traced a line around his mouth solemnly, still slowly, slowly moving against him.

The lines across the Hushbringer's cheek had already healed, by virtue of the twisted Shard within him, the same one that made him watch with wide eyes at his Yozi, as he felt wetness against his shaft, only prevented by the clothes he now feverishly cursed as he struggled against the lines, thrusting harder upward. The weight vanished, his hands trying to push her down again, to find that second where he could finally fall.

There was a gust, desert hot as he could feel her slip away, enough to make him scream in outrage, to be denied, even by his Mistress, shutting his eyes to let out a shout that could even bring a demon wracking agony.

Then a needled pain, hard and sharp and sweet as he flailed in the air, at the corner of his mouth. The lower half of the uniform he wore fell away, cut away by the fiery winds, a split second before hot yielding heat surrounded the tip of his shaft and slid down gracefully, surrounding him. He let out a mute groan at the tightness, the fire, cut off by another piercing wince just above where he had been attacked before, just over his mouth, the scrap of bone against a tooth before the ache was met with another, the pulse in his head racing as he felt something running though the pain, rough as the sands surrounding the demon city.

Each roll of her body, the sweet clench of her pussy brought yet another sibling pain on his mouth, her eyes bright and mad as she began to talk.

We remember you shouting before so fair...

The Yozi pulled on the needle, merry silence as she rode him, rising upward to almost let him escape, even when he tried to follow her, before slamming him back into the furnace heat, enough to make the chaining lines shake.

Was it so long ago when we last met?

The Scourge had no idea what she was purring about, trying to reach for her, finding a second of her dusky skin for a moment before it vanished, before she stopped, wholly in union with him, and squeezing tightly around him.

You are ours again.

He couldn't open his mouth enough to answer as she leaned in again, their mouths meeting again, her tongue sliding into the small opening with an whisper of pleasure.


The one word terrified him.

And pushed him straight off the edge he didn't see coming.

The Infernal screamed against the Silent Wind's lips and the strand of her hair that now bound him, taut in the chains as he splattered within her, an explosion of heat and liquid and force enough that exhaustion took him easily into blessed darkness again.

The next thing the Scourge knew was almost freedom. His eyes opened, to find himself still there, though only hanging uncomfortably by the single line around his legs, all alone.

The Infernal sighed against his now-sewn mouth. He was fairly sure there was a punchline somewhere in this whole thing, but at the moment, he fished out a lockpick from the hem of his shirt and reached up to finish freeing himself.