Hunting in the Lake
Story by Wolvun
Pipin stood on the patio behind the Manor. Hunched over and trying to feel more confident in her plan. She’s been on a few scouting missions now and things have been going well. And she isn’t the same scared little slave she had been either
At least, not as much as before.
The Witch of Words had been pleased to learn about another rumoured apex predator. This time in The Lake. This did remind her of the mission to the forest, as they suspected the predator may be another lurking pumpkolossus
While not the only mass of water on the estate, the lake is the largest and in a strange way, the most static. While the various landmarks of the Samhein Estate seem to shift and lose you within the trick trees, the Lake seems to always want you to find it, always a bit easier to find than other places.
Very few of the guests of the Harvest Coven even saw the Lake from the front of the Manor. Those that did were diverted and distracted away from it, returned to the relative safety of the manor to the pleasures of flesh and fear. Any of the slaves fleeing without any safer option would brave the sloping beach to the water’s edge for hydration. It could have been possible to fish from it, in theory. In practice though, nobody really did. Even the group of escaped rebel slaves, the Ill Manored, preferred to find their food through other ways than tempting The Lake’s edge.
Unlike the pumpkolossus in the forest, there wasn’t as much to go off of for this unknown entity. No one had seen or heard it. Only the stories from slaves that had joined the Ill Manored mentioning something deep below dragging their friends down…down…down…
—
Stepping through the sand, it felt cool as Pipin got closer and closer to The Lake’s edge. At least nothing could sneak up on her. The few pumpkinks here, scavenging around the dirt and rocks didn’t look very fast either. A strange aquatic variant that were trying to reach food? It didn’t matter. She kept her distance regardless.
Even with the Moon above, the water sat still and black. A natural mirror reflecting Pipin’s glassed expression back at her. Her nervousness was expected. The shawl around her neck covering herself only slightly. Inside is another Library Card as a back up, a magical escape back to the Blue Library.
But now also tucked there was a book. A gift given to her from her Mistress, the Witch of Words. While it held few words, to Pipin it meant her Mistress had confidence in her. Enough at least, for now. Pipin had put her experience in her previous missions in writing as well as some of the lessons her Mistress had taught her. A written journal and record ofher experience, levelling up alongside her. The book would be safe from the water inside the shawl. That didn’t help Pipin being safe in the water though.
Closing her eyes, Pipin steps into the water. Silently chanting in her head what the Witch of Words had taught her. That there is power in understanding. How, unlike the chaotic Harvest Coven who create what they want with chaos, witches of the Blue Coven merely find the reasoning for why something could simply be the way they want.
The water was chilling on her bare ankles. Rising quickly with each step.
Dihydrogen monoxide holds an oxygen atom.
Pipin shivered as the water raised past her naval.
Things were brushing past her ankles as she went further in. Oxidization creates oxygen from water.
It was at her neck now. The soft breeze causing ripples of water to splash against her chin.
Air can be extracted from water. Pipin plunged her head in.
Trusting in her understanding. Trusting in what her Mistress taught her.
With only that understanding, she took in a breath.
The inside of her mouth felt dry. Opening her eyes, Pipin marveled. She could breath. With her Blue Book as the catalyst and her understanding, she was causing oxidation without assistance. Every breath she sucked in the oxygen from around her, leaving the rest of the water lapping against her lips.
Pipin wanted to be happy. Yet she quietly had hoped she’d have come up coughing. At least then she would have had an excuse not to dive down.
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Pipin dove. Deeper and deeper. Things moving just out of sight of the dwindling Moonlight above. A figure? A face? Yet the further down she dove the less there were. Though that wasn’t entirely true. She could still feel them watching her from above. Whatever fear tingled though her couldn’t compare to why they didn’t follow.
Pippin wasn’t a strong swimmer. Before all this she had little need to. Now, only the safety of not running out of air steeled her resolve. Though even that continued to be eroded by the chill of the water and the darkness spreading out all around her. This wasn’t like the darkness she had hid in while in the Manor. She had a decent idea of what darkness could hide in the Manor. Down here was an alien world and she was out of her element.
The presences were gone. Down here, even the Moonlight couldn’t reach. Yet it was not pitch black. Pipin had been under for several minutes minutes now. Swimming aimlessly in different directions, lost, looking.
Bubbles floating upward. Blue flame inside. As though a candle wick were set inside sent driving upward. The pale light lighting up Pipin’s pale body as they passed, the light washing her in that tingle of fear again. Two more were coming up from below. Maybe from all the way from the bottom. Another tingle.
She remembered the Forest, how in the face of the pumpkolossus she became overwhelmed with a sexual urge. Her Mistress had explained to her that being the largest and most vile of their kind, they live a long life of voyeuristic desperation and hunger for misery. Simply being near them can cause those feelings of desire and desperation to bubble up inside.
Pipin understood this as a trick, a way to entrance those near into going closer, to staying there, to give it a chance to reach out and grab you. She steeled herself, knowing that her mission, to learn, to confirm, to see, played directly into the game of the corrupted beings.
And yet she did.
She let herself sink deeper to the bottom. Every blue candle bubble that sensually passed her confused her more, made her forget where she was. In the freezing and dark of the Lake, they provided light and warmth. Comfort. Satisfaction. She became aware that swimming back up would be an ordeal, difficult, cold, dark, denial, she would deny herself her urges. As she looked up she saw pitch darkness, even the blue candle bubbles seemed to fizzle above her. Down below, the water seemed softer, cosier, yet still a deathly blue. Like a blanket of soft fog that she could sink it and let wrap around her. Take her. Ease her.
Ease her arousal. Her arousal.
A blue candle bubble passed her, she locked her eyes to it.
Desperation.
She was deep underwater and could breathe, but the sudden feeling that she would never again orgasm almost sent her into a panic attack. She’d never make it back up in time to be saved. No one would ever pleasure her again, not herself or anyone else. It was too late, too late, too deep, too far. The only way to give herself some final relief was to go deeper, to be enveloped in the soft blanket of blue sensations.
She could breathe. She was safe. She could breathe, she knew she could swim back up safely, yet she knew she’d never make it before she drowned. She knew she could breathe. But she knew the only way to cum was to go deeper. She knew she had to go deeper, to confirm the existence of a pumpkolossus. She felt it was already confirmed. She needed to see it though, or the Witch of Words would never accept it. But she didn’t care. It’s not what she was doing. She needed to cum. She knew this was the only way. She could only ever orgasm again if she let herself fall.
The thick haze of deathly blue fog in the water was surrounding her now, a swarm of blue flame candles breathing around her, a floating tease of her dual burning reliefs, oxygen, and the fire in her loins. She could breathe, she could breathe. She reminded herself. It was like the creature was talking to her, but not with words, with sexuality, with arousal, with desperation. Tricking her, deceiving her, somehow convincing her psychically that she would both never breathe or orgasm again unless she let herself fall towards it.
Towards it.
Where it could relieve her.
Satisfy her.
Save her.
Give her what she needs.
What no other could ever give her.
To satisfy her.
To satisfy her.
She could breathe, she reminded herself. She struggled, as she sank deeper and deeper she saw nothing, she could never see anything, just the thick deathly fog and the sparkling lights of the blue flame candles tormenting her, talking directly to her arousal.
She became overwhelmed. She knew somehow, some way, that she would never make it back up to the surface in time. She was too deep. She can’t hold her breath that long. She can’t live. It’s too late. But she can cum.
She can cum.
She reached out and touched a blue flame bubble, begging it desperately for its relief.
Pippin jerked in the water. Something had snagged her. No, something had CAUGHT her. The slimy vegetation pulled taught, dragging her down faster. More tendrils appearing amongst the glowing bubbles. Snapping and twisting about her body, binding her arms around her. In the far distance, more blue flame could be seen. Silhouetting teeth before them.
Now she really was panicking. Not just a battle of willpower between her and her unseen predator, now she was being ferociously dragged down the water, the blue haze all clearing a path towards the being in the dark.
Pippin couldn’t reach into her shawl. The Library Card out of reach. The doom certainly waiting her at the bottom.
Yet she was not helpless. As cold as her body was, the warmth in her mouth was still there. Energy was still there and could be extrapolated exponentially. The only issue being she can’t do that and oxidize air. She’d only have the one shot. If she screws this up, she’ll drown right here and now. Before she ever reaches the mouth of the beast. Before she ever orgasms. Before she ever tastes sweet satisfaction. Before it can save her.
No!
…now or never!
Her lips became icy cold while the inside of her mouth grew blisteringly hot. Forcing herself to open her mouth, the frigid water filled it in an instant. Yet not before the belch of yellow flame exploded outward. The slimy tendrils yanked away, loosened in pain, only for a moment. Just long enough for Pipin to pull a hand free. Shoving it into her shawl and creasing the card.
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“Now dear, I do hope that isn’t your-”
“No Mistress,” Pippin sat upon the Blue Library’s floor. The expanding pool of water spreading out from her.
She couldn’t stop shivering, yet her hands were fully cupped between her legs, almost compulsively rubbing herself. She couldn’t ignore her desperate, burning, suffocating need to orgasm. Nor could she ignore the several raw spots inside of her mouth that would likely try to blister.
“Not this time….ugh…I…I need a moment….a few moments…then I’ll write up what I have.”
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