FIC: The Fall of Angels (Torsten Barring/Laura Erika Barring, NC-17), part 6/15
Title: The Fall of Angels (part 6/15, completed fic)
Author: snowgrouse
Fandom: A Woman's Face (1941), original fiction
Pairing: Torsten Barring/Laura Erika Barring, Torsten/Laura/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Erotica, darkfic, horror
Warnings: Incest, underage, hard BDSM, noncon, watersports, fisting, scat, abuse, graphic violence (see Ao3 for full list of tags)
Length: ~97 000 words
Summary: Once Torsten and Laura know their song is coming to an end, their lust and their rage are unstoppable. Together, they set out to avenge themselves against a society that had sought to suffocate their desires--and to enjoy each last one of the world's pleasures to the fullest.
A/N: The third and final part of Devilry. Torsten and Laura go down in flames. Darker, kinkier and more violent than the previous two parts combined; please heed the warnings.
("That's what I want to give you tonight, my child," he said, pulling back so that he could look at me, my arms still around his neck. "Bathe you in women, the luscious, sweet softness of women, and you won't have to act the man at all."
A suave bath, scented with ointments, the bath of femininity, the androgynising force to which Baudelaire had credited his genius. Torsten craved this bath, that much was obvious. I wonder if he had, in fact, touched a single woman after Birgitte; I doubted it. Both of us could use a little pussy to soften things up, that was true, so I knew his desires weren't altogether altruistic.
"And this would have nothing whatsoever to do with you wanting to have an orgy," I smirked, now rubbing my pussy against his erection a little.
He tilted his head and made a mock-pout. "A little." He smacked my ass with both hands. "It'll cheer both of us up."
"I hate to say it, but I'm tired."
"I have just the thing for that." He made for his briefcase and took out a little snuffbox. "Restocked our cocaine supply." But before he could cut a line for me, we heard the sound of an approaching car. "That'll be the girls," he said, pecking me on the cheek and tying up his robe. "You'd better hurry."
Gladly, I sniffed the cocaine, grateful for the energising rush of it, all of my limbs filling with power, my blood rushing hot, molten. What had I been so anxious about? It was ridiculous. I, too, tied up my kimono and hoped the wet stain wouldn't show through the back; I fixed my makeup in the mirror and went to greet our guests. As the cocaine surged through me, I felt as if my veins rose onto my skin like golden vines and crowned me, vines of heat, of lust, lianas of desire curling all around my arms and legs and snaking out of my pussy. At that, I laughed deliriously as I realised Torsten must have put more than just cocaine into the powder--some sort of mild hallucinogen, perhaps. I didn't mind this; I didn't mind it at all.
A living Art Nouveau maiden of vines and silk, I flowed, sashayed into the living room. Torsten had rented three girls for the night, it turned out: we'd never had sex with that many women at once, and I thought the idea titillating. Torsten poured all of us champagne and clinked glasses with all the girls--all very smartly dressed, one of them a blonde, one of them a redhead, one with hair as black as ink. All three girls had the creamiest, softest skin; each one was a little plump, voluptuous. Oh, he knew me too well; the girls were so perfect this heightened the dreamlike mood I was in.
"To women," Torsten purred, sprawling on the sofa, his eyes sparkling with lust, sparkling like the champagne, his voice bubbling with laughter. "Ash, Cherry, Ebony, meet Cleo.")
Author: snowgrouse
Fandom: A Woman's Face (1941), original fiction
Pairing: Torsten Barring/Laura Erika Barring, Torsten/Laura/OCs
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Erotica, darkfic, horror
Warnings: Incest, underage, hard BDSM, noncon, watersports, fisting, scat, abuse, graphic violence (see Ao3 for full list of tags)
Length: ~97 000 words
Summary: Once Torsten and Laura know their song is coming to an end, their lust and their rage are unstoppable. Together, they set out to avenge themselves against a society that had sought to suffocate their desires--and to enjoy each last one of the world's pleasures to the fullest.
A/N: The third and final part of Devilry. Torsten and Laura go down in flames. Darker, kinkier and more violent than the previous two parts combined; please heed the warnings.
("That's what I want to give you tonight, my child," he said, pulling back so that he could look at me, my arms still around his neck. "Bathe you in women, the luscious, sweet softness of women, and you won't have to act the man at all."
A suave bath, scented with ointments, the bath of femininity, the androgynising force to which Baudelaire had credited his genius. Torsten craved this bath, that much was obvious. I wonder if he had, in fact, touched a single woman after Birgitte; I doubted it. Both of us could use a little pussy to soften things up, that was true, so I knew his desires weren't altogether altruistic.
"And this would have nothing whatsoever to do with you wanting to have an orgy," I smirked, now rubbing my pussy against his erection a little.
He tilted his head and made a mock-pout. "A little." He smacked my ass with both hands. "It'll cheer both of us up."
"I hate to say it, but I'm tired."
"I have just the thing for that." He made for his briefcase and took out a little snuffbox. "Restocked our cocaine supply." But before he could cut a line for me, we heard the sound of an approaching car. "That'll be the girls," he said, pecking me on the cheek and tying up his robe. "You'd better hurry."
Gladly, I sniffed the cocaine, grateful for the energising rush of it, all of my limbs filling with power, my blood rushing hot, molten. What had I been so anxious about? It was ridiculous. I, too, tied up my kimono and hoped the wet stain wouldn't show through the back; I fixed my makeup in the mirror and went to greet our guests. As the cocaine surged through me, I felt as if my veins rose onto my skin like golden vines and crowned me, vines of heat, of lust, lianas of desire curling all around my arms and legs and snaking out of my pussy. At that, I laughed deliriously as I realised Torsten must have put more than just cocaine into the powder--some sort of mild hallucinogen, perhaps. I didn't mind this; I didn't mind it at all.
A living Art Nouveau maiden of vines and silk, I flowed, sashayed into the living room. Torsten had rented three girls for the night, it turned out: we'd never had sex with that many women at once, and I thought the idea titillating. Torsten poured all of us champagne and clinked glasses with all the girls--all very smartly dressed, one of them a blonde, one of them a redhead, one with hair as black as ink. All three girls had the creamiest, softest skin; each one was a little plump, voluptuous. Oh, he knew me too well; the girls were so perfect this heightened the dreamlike mood I was in.
"To women," Torsten purred, sprawling on the sofa, his eyes sparkling with lust, sparkling like the champagne, his voice bubbling with laughter. "Ash, Cherry, Ebony, meet Cleo.")