The tongues' lapping drove out the need for the obfuscation. Every point on Sayuri's body tingled suddenly with pleasure transmitted from the tender nub through her spine and redoubled with the attentions to her neck. Each nerve in her skin came alive in pure sensation. She could feel the few strands of her cropped hair brushing above the tongues at her throat. She could feel the faint breeze, unnoticed before, gliding its way over the surface of the roof. She could feel every fibre of the rough cloak beneath her knees and elbows and feet and forearms as it slowly rubbed her skin in its coarse way. She could feel every minute ridge in each tongue's otherwise smooth surface as it rasped pleasantly over her soft skin or through the wet, matted fur above her nether lips.

Sayuri closed the hand she'd been reaching downward with and brought it back up beside its compatriot. She couldn't remember why she'd moved it down in the first place. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten so high up, or where she was. She realized all of this with a strange, calm mind. A brief memory of some sort of anger wafted through her, and another of some sort of sadness. How could she have been enraged or melancholy? There was nothing but bliss here on the roof. Ecstatic bliss building a burning lust in her ran lines of pleasure past her spine and out to every live nerve within her being.

Her voice was almost singing in its soft, moaning cries. The heat of her juices washing over her inner thighs as they're stirred from deep within her soothes any last concept of flight. Moaning, panting, coated in a thin layer of sweat, and bucking softly back on him, she's lost her mind once more, but this time to the raw feel of the world around her instead of the animal lust that took hold previously. Where previously her memories had taunted, directed, and depressed her, now she was lost in a world without them, a world she could feel without seeing, and a world encapsulated by the pounding thrusts at her sopping, slick walls.

This moment of clarity was exactly the sort of thing Whisperer had hoped to give to this young woman. A moment of calm and bliss - however fleeting - in which she was neither animal nor distressed. A period during which she could lose herself in pure ecstacy and truly be herself, free of the past and unworried by the future. Of course, he knew she would be disgusted by the memory once her damaged psyche reasserted itself, but he could only hope that in some small way, this kindness would help alleviate some of her suffering.

Again, he found it odd that he should think this way. When he had first come to the island, he might well have sought to cause such suffering for the raw psychic flavor it would provide. But now he felt more compassion for his prey; the thought of such abuse sickened and angered him. Now was not the time for such introspection, however. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind where they silenced an odd ‘buzzing’ he hadn’t truly been aware of until it was gone. Both introspection and strange mental sounds were quickly forgotten, though as he turned his attention fully to the task at hand; his mission to extend Sayuri’s state of pure ecstacy for as long as possible, and then to make it explode in the most intense fashion possible.

Whisperer ground away at the woman’s flooded sex. A veritable cascade of hot nectar was displaced every time he thrust into her. As had the previous one, this member slowly expanded as he incessantly ravaged her with it. Soon it was larger than should have been possible for her to take without damage, or at least pain, but the fluids she had imbibed earlier prevented both. There should be nothing to distract her from the satisfaction of being so completely full. Further, his angle of entry ensured that her inner sweet spot was worked just as thoroughly as the pleasure button his tongues attended.

Almost like wordless, singing praises, Sayuri’s beautiful cries floated all around them on the breeze. Though urged on by the sensual serenade, the monster kept his actions smooth and constant, trying not to overwhelm his prey too quickly. He wanted her to remain in this unfettered state until she literally couldn’t take any more.

If she'd been privy to the creature's plans, Sayuri would have cursed her resilience. As it was, though, she was aware of no thoughts. What would have been her line of thought was a white, blank expanse within her mind drowning in the warm wash of apparently endless bliss. A whimper escaped her lips each time the tongues or shaft stayed themselves to keep from building her pleasure to the tipping point. Her body burned and seethed and writhed as her release, collected rapidly from the lingering effects of the last and the incessant, scalpel-precise attentions from the creature, swelled and withdrew with each flicker of tongues or sliding of the shaft like waves crashing on the blank-white shores at the edges of her mind.

Her hips swayed and rocked to try and work the member harder against the tight bundle of nerves within her and deeper against the back end of her depths. She pours juices out onto the shaft and down her legs without end, easily replenishing what's pulled from her with each backward motion of the flared head of the thing buried in her. The flickering, slick tongues working at her tender nub and her delicate neck need to keep stopping despite her instinctual craving for them to continue lest her climax wash through her trembling body before she cannot stand the waiting any further. In her smooth, blank mind, she wants the release, but she is still far from needing it.

Those long, terrible years that she'd now forgotten had taught her body to be comfortable with that magnetic swelling in her that foretold a climax. In every previous encounter with one of the horrid beasts, though, she'd used this comfort to hold her own release back. Later, she'd likely find it a cruel irony that the glimmering creature had held her back the one time she'd wished for the release. At present, however, she merely pleaded wordlessly with her pleasant tormentor by whining like a hungry dog and pressing her hips towards the over-sized cock pounding harshly into her.

Desire for release was the only thing Whisperer sensed in his prey’s pleasure-blanked mind. That was good; he didn’t want any other thoughts or emotions marring the perfect beauty of her state of utter bliss. Still, he didn’t mean to punish or torture the young woman with his denial of her climax. He just wanted to make her pleasure extend as long as possible; to swell the rising tide of ecstacy to truly monumental proportions before it broke over her.

Whisperer’s timing adjusted to keep Sayuri in that place of bliss. He sought to find the rhythm that required the least pauses in the continuous stimulation without provoking her growing orgasm. With every thrust of his cock, every stroke of a tongue over her clit or along her neck, he wanted to drive her a little bit higher. He hoped to overcharge her impending climax, pushing her past the threshold that would normally trigger the crashing wave of ecstacy. He meant to make her next release an explosion that dwarfed what he had given her so far, truly one of the most intense she had ever experienced.

Meanwhile, the monster set about preparing for his feast and the delivery of the fluids the woman would need to survive after he had drained her life-force. He extended his other two cocks and positioned them to provide the best coverage. He looped the one that had triggered her last release down in front of her face. Having reduced to a more manageable size in the interim, the glimmering shaft that he presented to her mouth was still coated in hew own juices. It brought the strong scent of her arousal closer to nose as he pressed it gently against her lips, seeking entry.

That blank, slimly instinctual mind seemed to pick up on Whisperer's ploy. That wish to find release dissolved into a desire to see just how far she could build herself on the rolling waves of ecstatic bliss before they smashed themselves out. With each passing moment, her resolve to hold out grew stronger, following the path of her body's pleasure further and further towards heights she wouldn't have considered feasible, though memory would have had a brief counter-argument prepared.

Of course, as it was, neither kept her mind from the attentions across her writhing body. With nothing but her trained resistance and odd determination, she pressed herself back into the tongues and the shaft in an attempt to coordinate the efforts of the creature controlling them. Held still at the waist, she couldn't do overly much to slide back onto the pounding phallus, but the steady, carefully-aimed rhythm of the thing meant that she didn't have to. Her neck felt charged from the continuous licking across it. More and more nectar seeped down her depths to warm and coat her legs and the tongues sliding across her folds and the delicate nub.

The smell of what was pressed at her lips drew the woman's tongue out to lap at the thing deeply. With a small, confused shake of her head, mouth still ajar, Sayuri peeled one eye carefully open to confirm the mistake, then corrected and slid herself around it. She sucked hard at the thing, somehow vaguely remembering that it offered as much promise, if not more, than the one grinding and thrusting into her, and revelled in the more pleasing taste it now carried.

Throughout it all, rumbling moans slid through her throat. An occasional yelp or gasp of bliss followed through them with no echo for the open expanse she was settled upon. Though the sounds had become muted when she pulled the cock into her mouth, still her tongue trembled with the pleased sounds, providing an unintentional boost to the attentions her inexperienced lips could offer. The bliss was beginning to become unbearable, though, and the brief resolve of the woman was starting to thin out in promise of the release she'd been striving to build with his aid.

Whisperer had hoped that Sayuri would find the taste of her own juices pleasing. Her initial misconception as to what was offered to her lips indicated she did; and the way she hungrily sucked on the nectar-coated phallus after she realized what it was confirmed such. The alien was very glad he’d been able to provide such a pleasant taste, even for a short time. Unfortunately, it was likely to be overpowered quickly by the bittersweet flavor of the pre-cum that constantly leaked from the head of his cock.

Sensing that his prey was approaching the point at which the constant pleasure would truly become torment, Whisperer stepped up his assault. As he ground away at her tautly-stretched sex, he began to twist his member back and forth, literally drilling the young woman with the massive shaft. He stroked the tongues of one maw over the tender flesh of her neck in time with the twisting thrusts while those of the other paid attention to her throbbing pink pearl and lapped up as much of her juices as possible. The creature sent his other two maws to scour her thighs for the rest, ensuring that only a few drops escaped.

His third cock came to rest on her lower back, the head positioned over the nerve cluster near the tip of her tailbone. Hot, tingly fluid trickled out over that spot seeking to engage those nerves and provide a pleasure that she had perhaps never felt before. The fourth shaft he lowered beneath her, rubbing its oozing head against the petite mounds of her breasts.

All throughout, Whisperer slowly increased his tempo. He carefully timed each thrust and stoke and lick and rub to push the lovely woman higher and higher, searching for that exact point just before pleasure became torture. He sought that perfect height that would make her rapidly swelling climax explode with the greatest intensity his actions could cause. And then he would feed; extending that perfect bliss longer than what was normally possible.

That terrible taste drove the lithe woman to suck harder on the thing in her lips. The flavor promised energy, energy promised strength, and strength promised freedom. She wanted more of it with each passing moment, the desire for it building alongside her desire for climax. When the release finally reached her fully, her trembling body was so slick with sweat and the tingling of his juices and the smears of her own reaching down to her knees that she should have been aching from the loss of water, but no discomfort was left for her. Everything was bliss, perfect and complete.

Her lips released the shaft as she howled around it in a discordant cry of lust. Every nerve ending seemed to burn with pleasure. Her folds clenched sharply at the shaft within them, instinctively working to pull more cum into herself. Her hips felt aflame and charged at the same time as they pressed hard onto the cock buried within her. Every muscle in her body tensed and pressed in rhythm against the tongues, anticipating their motions slightly simply by merit of knowing what would draw her pleasure out further.

Screaming and panting and gasping and whining like an animal, she shivered and writhed in the sliding light of the setting sun. The energy of the creature's seed coursed through her veins and mingled with the heightened awareness of the razor-edged release to wash the sea of bliss a pure blue. She smiled and cried out again and felt the energy catch on something. A single word wrapped over her mind like a suffocating bag.

No.

Even if he wanted to, it was far too late for Whisperer to stop. Sayuri’s glorious climax caused her life-force to bubble forth, presenting the monster with an irresistible feast. The psychic alien drank deeply.

As always, Whisperer’s feeding process prevented his prey’s orgasm from truly cresting. The constant flow of life energy prolonged the explosive sensation indefinitely. And the creature took his time. He drained Sayuri as slowly as he could, making her climax roll on and on. Minutes passed as the alien fed, and throughout, his assault continued.

One cock pounded away at the woman’s tightly clenching sex. Another quivered in her open mouth, awaiting its cue to deliver the powerful fluid that would ensure the prey’s survival. A third shaft rubbed between and around Sayuri’s lovely little breasts, smearing its constantly-flowing offering against her flesh. The fourth rested in position near the small of her back, preparing to release a flood of electrically-charged regenerative semen.

And then there were the tongues: four encircling the woman’s neck and writhing along the tender flesh there. Another quartet attended her slit, lapping at the lips that were so tautly stretched around a glimmering member and stroking over her clit incessantly. The other eight roamed up and down her thighs, collecting the mixture of juices that still ran down them (slackened though the flow might be).

Lightning filled Whisperer’s body as he drew more and more of Sayuri’s life-energy from her. The already formidable tempest grew to epic proportions, overflowing the transparent monster and arcing outward to the roof. Tendrils of electricity danced between the alien and his prey. They wandered over Sayuri’s exposed back and sides as though they had a life of their own. Strangely, the smell of ozone did not grow stronger, and the fingers of lightning left no scorch marks on the roof or the victim’s cloak (She, herself, was protected by Whisperer’s fluids in any case).

Like a spectator, the alien watched the strange occurrence in fascination. It was like looking in from outside, observing his own body ravaging the poor young woman beneath it while the strange electrical anomaly overlapped them both . . .

Suddenly, the disconnected feeling dissolved in a rush of images and feelings. Sayuri’s memories flooded through the psychic link forged by the feeding. Echoes of the endless torments she had endured crashed into Whisperer and it was all he could do not to succumb to the same hate and rage they provoked in the woman. But, though it hurt him terribly, he forced himself to live through those memories one by one hoping to somehow lessen Sayuri’s burden. Perhaps it would give her peace, at least for a while.

Soon, the last of the images flickered by; the young woman’s essence all but depleted. It was time. Whisperer’s slow, continuous feeding stopped abruptly as two of his cocks thrust deeply into Sayuri. One butted up hard against her cervix, completely filling her sex with its quivering length while the other stabbed to the back of her throat. It was the first and last time that the monster would force himself so far into her mouth, and then only to be sure his life-sustaining seed would surge directly down the weakened woman’s throat.

Then, jerking and throbbing, all four of Whisperer’s cocks exploded, delivering jet after jet of his sparkling semen to their targets. Her cunt was filled almost instantly, the force of the alien’s ejaculation causing that member to spurt free amidst a shower of electrically charged cum. After discharging a large amount down her throat, the second member pulled out, still shooting bittersweet seed. The hot, sticky fluid covered her face in short order. A flood of the stuff coursed up her back to drip off her shoulders and sides, and a fountain of it blasted against her chest and abdomen. Much of it splashed off immediately, but the rest clung to her flesh, covering her front in the warm, tingly juice.

Sayuri whimpered sharply as she felt the energy, her energy, sap from her veins and flow out with the strong, rolling waves of release. Each conflicting second seemed to draw out into hours as her mind fought back between the endless waves of pleasure and the hatred clawing its way back from its hiding place deep down where it had hidden.

Her trembling walls spilled a seemingly endless flood of her own juices down over her thighs. Her mind screamed as she continued to suck and lap at the shaft with each small wave of bliss that crashed against it. The tingle over her pert breasts was a small victory for her lust, but the eternal presence of the threat at the small of her back fought back against it sharply. Those tongues, though, kept fighting back the clawing, thrashing anger in small blows across the entirety of her body. That cleaning pass of tongues kept the pouring juices from pooling at her knees on the thick, absorbent cloak as the seconds stretched into aeons.

Then the flood of memory came back, as it had earlier to shove her into her depression. Each terror, revisited, flashed through her eyes the way she knew they would at the very end. Each sleepless night wrapped in fear replayed itself in that timeless, stretching time. Yet this time, she had a situation to compare them against. This time, she knew that this thing was far from the absolute horrors of the island. The lingering dusk seemed to blaze in her eyes as she looked back over the sparking, swirling thing. A strange sort of calm claimed the raging, gnashing part of Sayuri's mind. Today had gone well. Today was not a good day to die.

Her mind snapped back hard to the present as the searing memories, rushing at the side of her multithreaded consciousness, caught up with it. With the hard shove of the shafts, her mind seemed to separate from her body and analyze herself calmly. The forgotten flesh trembled and gulped and writhed with the tingling and the flood of things in and out and over and under and all around her body. The warmth soothed muscles she hadn't realized were aching. She flinched reflexively to keep the stuff out of her eyes, but her mind was too busy and too patient now to deal with the normal revulsion at such a thing.

Sayuri held there, calm on all four limbs, for a long moment, then collapsed against her already messy cloak with a soft, wet thud. She stared blankly at the Northern horizon as her mind settled slowly back into her panting body. Oddly, she felt better, even beyond the knowledge that the energy the thing had taken would come back from what it had fed her and coated her with. In that disjointed, half-meditative state, she'd realized that life wasn't so terrible that the list needed to be rushed. She'd been through worse before, and she would persevere. Driftwood-Ozone still had to die, some day, when she got a better opportunity.

Normally, Whisperer would have been a bit surprised that his prey was still conscious after the feeding. Normally, he would not have let her collapse so gracelessly. Normally, he would have held her while the sparkles in his semen faded and the fluid soaked into her flesh. Normally, his inner storm would have abated soon after he came. Normalcy was in short supply at the moment.

The tempest raged on, blue-white streaks of lightning arcing out from the transparent alien to strike the roof, the cloak, and most especially the girl. Searing lines of electric fire seemed to reach for the exhausted woman like tentacles trying to capture and bind her again.

With little thought as to the strangeness of the situation or what this occurrence might mean for him, the psychic alien fought desperately to contain the flashing tendrils. He refused to allow the out-of-control lightning-bolt limbs to subject Sayuri to further molestation, especially while her life-force was still so weak

And so, there seemed to be two overlapping monsters fighting with one another over the woman who lay sprawled on her wet and sticky cloak. Lightning crashed all around Sayuri, but the one who had so recently attacked her sheltered her from the living storm.

The faintest snort of a laugh escaped Sayuri as she watched the creature. Guilt. It was apparently feeling guilt. It wanted her again, but it was holding itself back. She couldn't escape, but it was hindered by its sudden morals. Even Sayuri, confused as she was, had managed to get past her guilt months ago. This one would go on the list for sure.

It was strange seeing it fight itself so fervently, though. She thought of her love and the blue-haired girl's sister. That made more sense, for some reason. Still, the thing would die. It had made such a terrible mess of her home. This would take forever to clean. The stink would surround her for days, if not weeks. She needed to get downstairs, transfer the contents to under her old bed, then get the thing into the wash. Her mind flickered over places to wait it out, not the least worried that Driftwood-Ozone - the dual-smells and dual-name seemed perfectly apt as the storm thing tore at itself - would follow her down below.

Despite the activity of the girl's damaged mind, her body lay limp and crumpled in the pool of cum. She took shallow, ragged breaths and drew one arm slightly back and forth across the soaking fabric. Her fingertips slowly, oh so slowly, painfully slowly, edged towards a knife in a loose pocket of the cloak despite how useless holding the thing would be.

Preoccupied with the struggle, Whisperer didn’t hear the young woman’s quiet snort of derision. Neither did he sense her thoughts regarding her cloak and the steps she would need to go through to get it cleaned. So, of course he did not notice her reaching for a knife.

All his attention was focused on subduing and containing the unruly electrical anomaly before it could harm the woman he had so recently fed upon. Slowly, he gained the upper hand. The storm weakened as Whisperer continually thwarted its desperate bids to reach Sayuri.

At last, the lightning began to flicker and fade, dispersing entirely as Whisperer finally managed to contain it within himself. Darkness descended over the roof-top as, during the struggle, night had finally crept across the sky. Only a faint glow to the west remained of the passing day, no longer strong enough to hold the vast sea of stars at bay.

For a long moment, the alien hung silent and motionless above Sayuri, waiting to make sure the tempest was truly gone. When, finally, he turned his attention back to the young woman, her hand had already reached the pocket that held the blade. He didn’t try to stop her, sensing that she needed the comfort of the weapon in her grip. Besides, with most of her life-force drained, there was little she could actually do with it. It was actually rather surprising that she wasn’t unconscious, and even more surprising that she had the strength to move. But, then, he should have expected that from someone like Sayuri.

Watching the young woman reach into one of the pockets of her cum-covered cloak, Whisperer suddenly realized what a mess it was. He had experienced many of the mad woman’s memories and he knew just how important the tattered garment was to her. Remorse flooded his mind and he found himself reaching out with a transparent tentacle.

There were no other thoughts in the monster’s mind, still numb from the battle with the storm. Suddenly, strange symbols and words bloomed in the blank expanse. Fueled by the regret he felt, they merged into inexplicable patterns which flowed out of him, through his tentacle into the fabric of the soiled cloak.

With a strange squelching sound, all the semen, vaginal secretions and accumulated filth leapt from the cloth, sluicing out in all directions over the rooftop. In the blink of an eye, the tattered old garment when from soggy and sticky to clean and dry. Whisperer was flabbergasted. He recognized that he had worked some sort of ‘magic,’ but he neither understood exactly what he had done or how he had done it. Had the little bits of mystic knowledge he had absorbed from previous victims enabled this feat? There had been so many strange occurrences in one day . . .

Darkness again. Darkness was comforting. Night meant escape and hidingand freedom from the eternal lights, burning from above. Still, Sayuri's hands clung to the knife in their grasp as if it could move itself through the air and through all of her enemies on its own. At this point, she'd need it to if Driftwood-Ozone decided it wasn't done with her. Another bout of that, her overactive mind reasoned, and she'd be wasting away in a hospitol bed for awhile, and that wasn't acceptable. She had things to do. She had to keep working on the list.

As the tentacle and the symbols formed in the air above her, Sayuri froze completely. This was it. She was done. It would take months to get everything in her cloak back. They wouldn't let her keep it when they found her, like this, discarded like so many others. She regretted, for a moment, mocking the thing. It apparently had the resolve to do what it had to to protect itself and its kin-

The thought was cut off as the filt vanished from herself and her cloak. She blinked, slowly, as her mind ran ahead of her still frail body. After what seemed another hour to her, she pressed her nose into the fabric and breathed it deeply. It didn't smell like her any more. Anger flared like a spark at the back of her mind. The thing had stolen the smell of home from her. It had made her home worse than it had a moment ago, it-

Her mind skipped another beat as she huffed her next breath. It was acting guilty again. It wanted to undo the mess it had made. The thing had meant well. Meant well! That was terrible, somehow, but still less terrible than the idea that it was toying with her, or adding insult to injury. Maybe it had always meant well. Maybe the whole night had been it misunderstanding. Maybe she could teach it.

That thought snagged and ran. With one of their own on her side, she'd have an immeasureable advantage. With Driftwood-Ozone, she could kill some of the stronger ones. Maybe... just maybe... it would know how to escape, and could tell her. She just had to convince it to do what was really needed for the girls and not what it mistakenly thought would help. Some of them might even let it feed on them. Yes! She slowly started to push herself up to look at the thing, her eyes brimming with hope.

Whisperer was taken aback by the unspoken plea for his help. The hope dawning in Sayuri’s eyes tore at the empathic alien. What she wanted, he couldn’t give. Though he had no love for the monsters that abused the prey, he could not stop them, much less help to kill them. And as for escape . . .

Sorry . . . Sayuri . . . cannot . . . Whisperer projected all his regret into the call. He felt a great surge of pity, for he knew that the young woman was doomed. She would never complete her list and never escape. It was only a matter of time before the administration decided to put an end to her activities and forcibly ‘graduate’ her.

After that, she would spend the rest of her life as a sexual slave. If she was very lucky, she might be taken in by a relatively kind master, but given her instability and hate, it seemed likely she would be consigned to a breeding pit. Perhaps, when that time came, he could save her from that; perhaps he could buy her . . .

But, until then, he could do nothing more than give her an occasional taste of the same forced bliss he had just bestowed upon her; an action she would hardly regard as helpful.

Sayuri . . . lay . . . back . . .

Whisperer hoped, perhaps in vain, that she would comply without a too much of a fuss. He wanted to wrap her in her cloak and take her somewhere she would be safe while she was recuperating. He wasn’t worried that she might attack him. She should have been weak as a kitten, after all. He just didn’t want to have to forcibly restrain her.

The feral girl was already collapsing back onto the relatively soft fabric by the time the command reached her. Of course it wouldn't help. How could it. The others wouldn't have to play nice with one of their own. Poor thing would be torn to shreds before it save a single girl.

Sayuri would have to put it out of its misery instead. Some part of her remembered with the words that it could see into her mind, but she didn't care if it knew she planned on killing it. When it came back, that would just prove that it wanted to die.

Slowly, carefully, as if nursing a sore wound, the woman curled up with her knife held loosely in her hands on the splayed-out cloak. The black leather bracelet on her left arm shifted as it was pressed into her other wrist. The shift brought a small wince to Sayuri as the trapped and hidden memory pressed at its cage. She curled tighter and forced her mind back to the present.

Things were good, overall. The draining hadn't weakened her permanently, she decided. This was just like being tired after a long day of training. A night hidden in the forgotten, tiny alleyway between a pair of older buildings at the edge of campus, near the forest, and she'd be good as new. Her mind started tabulating good food and running an inventory of herbs and medicinals spirited away amongst the dried food that she might need. If it were undisturbed, there was a nice cache of spare things near that hiding place, and it wouldn't be hard to limp there once an ounce of her strength returned.