Ilsa, Queen of Debauchery:
Fart II
BySvengali
The following story borrows Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl, and Supergirl from D.C. Comics, Ilsa from the cult exploitation film "Ilsa, She-Wolf of the S.S.," and Dr. Orloff from Jess Franco's classic film, "The Awful Dr. Orloff."
Part One: Cathy and Oscar
Ilsa and her retinue of sadists and perverts had relocated, from spartan Camp Nine to a vast and gorgeous castle nestled in the nearby mountains. The palace lay like a generous dollop of cream upon the dark, rocky peaks. They had the lavish premises entirely to themselves. The former residents, who had not belonged to a race that the Nazis admired, had been thoroughly evacuated, and relocated to prison camps.
Dr. Orloff's young niece, Catriona, was visiting him at the castle. Originally, her stay was to have only been a mere week in duration, but circumstances had caused the visit to be extended from a week to several months. Catriona, who had just turned eleven, had no desire for her stay to conclude, for Orloff doted on her quite faithfully. She loved him dearly. Her parents' fabulous wealth was matched only by their piety. They therefore denied her much, and were right to do so. Her uncle, however, denied her nothing, and every day introduced her to something new. Needless to say, Catriona—or Cathy, as Orloff liked to call her—had taken to her new life with a vengeance.
When his niece had arrived, she had been a demure, slender, and delicate creature—aristocratic and dolllike. After months of pampering and excesses, she was much changed. Cathy now was given to laughing impudently, and was impossible if she did not get her way. She was no longer slender, but had grown quite chubby. She had exchanged her sweet and pious songs for lengthy and odious belches, which quite often escaped her voracious lips.
On the afternoon upon which we begin our story, she sat, eating chocolates, upon a luxurious couch of soft and pretty cushions. Her lips were smeared quite messily with melted chocolate and her teeth were caked with it. She had even managed to get a few streaks in her curly, brown hair, caused, no doubt, by her having absently run a hand or two through her lovely and abundant curls. The candies were delicious, and the lively and wandery music which played on the gramophone was wonderful. She felt lightheaded and rather strange. But she was in excellent spirits. She took a chocolate from the large box, and the candy instantly bled its melting coat of brown onto her chubby fingers. The room was spinning! But it was all right, because it seemed to go with the music. She slid the candy between her lips, onto her tongue, and bit down into it, relishing the elegant sweetmeat. A rich syrup washed over her tongue and filled her mouth with dreamy decadence. She'd swear that as she consumed the candy, a tingly and dizzying feeling swept through her head. It seemed like more than just a sugar rush.
Cathy did not know that the candies she was gorging herself on were full of opium and rum, and were getting her as drunk as a healthy glass of Grand Marnier would. She had eaten several, and the alcohol and the opium had turned her mind into a delirious carnival. She slouched lethargically on the couch, feeling wonderfully warm and woozy, and as she listened to the music, she perceived a gentle and familiar-sounding scratch upon the door.
She slid off of the couch, and, upon gaining her feet, discovered that her legs were a bit unsteady. As Cathy crossed the room towards the door, she felt as if she were walking on a giant marshmallow. The room seemed different—more interesting, its features strange, and the door rather more distant than usual.
I must be unwell, Cathy told herself, but I won't tell anyone. I don't think I'd like to feel better.
It was Oscar at the door, and it amused her and pleased her very much to see him. She dropped to her knees as he entered and hugged him.
Oscar was a mastiff, and Cathy loved him very much. She had had him since he was a puppy. He was quite a large and powerful beast, but he was very fond of Cathy, and paused before her as she hugged him and stroked his soft, sleek coat.
"Oscar… Oscar… I love you, Oscar," she murmured, embracing him. What a strange thing a dog is, she thought in her drunken way. She half-felt ashamed to be in this condition around him, and wondered if he could tell that she wasn't herself.
Cathy often found herself imagining that Oscar was a sort of voice of conscience, as he was all she currently had as a reminder of her very different life at home. Surely as the dog looked at her—now especially—there was an unmistakable look of reproach in his doleful eyes.
"Forgive me, Oscar," she laughed wanly. "I don't know what in the world can be the matter with me."
The mastiff immediately smelled the chocolate and the liquor on her breath. But there wasn't only a scent of it. He quickly saw that there was melted chocolate on her lips and that some had run down her chin.
Suddenly Oscar's face was right in hers as he eagerly sniffed, and then his huge tongue came out. Cathy was startled as he started to lick her lips and chin and was about to stop him, but instead thought better of it. It felt funny and kind of nice feeling his warm breath on her face and his slippery tongue upsetting the soft and dignified set of her lips, as he lapped away the chocolate, and she laughed and fell back on her rump. Oscar was very thorough.
Finally she pushed him away and wiped the dog saliva off her face. She was still laughing and felt even stranger than before. Everything felt more intense, more beautiful, and, most of all, more funny.
She rose and half-held onto him as the two of them recrossed the room, and Cathy sat back down on the couch.
All the while the gramophone had been playing that gentle, wandery piano music, which, even though she hadn't been listening to it directly, still seemed to carry her along in a strange sort of way and hold her in its busy embrace. It almost felt as though the room were inside the piano. Whatever it all was, whatever it all meant, it was wonderful to experience.
Oscar lay down on the floor in front of her as Cathy had another candy. It tasted even richer—it was just heavenly. In fact, she wondered, fuelled by more of the opium's influence, if it weren't the case that it wasn't a piano she was in, but, instead, a piece of chocolate. Did she chew this chocolate now—did her teeth slide into it, did her tongue embrace it, or did the candy embrace and caress her? Perhaps, in a way, the piano and the chocolate were one, and she was inside a magnificent chocolate piano!
Cathy happened to glance down. Oh no! There was chocolate all over her dress! How could she have done it? She was eating like a boy!
It's just she felt so funny and clumsy and merry. Nothing seemed quite as it ought to be. She shook her head regretfully as she surveyed the damage and lifted the dress.
Oscar watched as the dress ascended. He saw Cathy's socks, her plump, bare legs, her underwear, and her sweet little mountain of a tummy. The dog was feeling a little out of sorts himself. Orloff had not only given his niece drugged candy. He had also used Oscar as a bit of a guinea pig in his lab. He had drugged the dog.
Cathy lifted her dress up to her undeveloped breasts. That part of her looked just as a little boy's chest would look. She rested both of her hands on her warm, distended stomach. It felt good—really good—hugging her fat tummy. It was so soft and generous. Uncle Ludvig had noticed that she had put on a little weight and he had laughed and hugged her and had told her it suited her. He was so different from Ma and Da!
Oscar lifted his head and looked at her strangely. He watched her eat the candy. He had wanted the candy a moment before, but now he felt he wanted something more. A new and very delicious scent flew into his sensitive nostrils. Cathy's very first drop of menstrual blood at that very moment lingered like a hesitant guest at the hairless portal between her legs. Oscar was quite a well-behaved animal, having been thoroughly trained, but the aphrodisiac Orloff had given him was getting the better of him. A tiny, wet, red spot appeared on her panties, and Oscar got to his feet.
As Cathy sat back on the couch, with her head resting against the soft cushion, she looked up through the high ceiling, lost temporarily in Chopin and chocolate-coated fantasies. Suddenly, she felt something cold touch her between the legs.
It was Oscar's nose, honking itself upon the bull's-eye of blood on the crotch of her underwear. He caressed her there with a warm and stertorous inhalation and exhalation through his big nostrils. She glanced lazily down, thinking, Does Osky think I'm food today? but by then, his tongue was out and working again, huge, soft, moist, and lapping up the crimson debutante and hoping for further emigrants. It was curious, she thought, and inappropriate, for Cathy knew, although the reasoning was cloudy, that her little place down there held a special mystery, and some thing of some sort—some phantom jewel which had to be guarded. And yet, this was not a normal day; this was not an ordinary room. Cathy thought Oscar's lapping seemed to fit into the magic symphony quite seamlessly, for here was music, chocolate, a dancing brain, and such an adept tongue, one and all caressing her so wonderfully it was all she could do not to drool.
"Oscar," Cathy sighed, "don't. Don't. You mustn't."
But the mastiff was deaf to remonstrance—especially considering the frail authority of his mistress' groan. His rhythmic, clucking tongue had utterly soaked the crotch of her panties, and the lustful expression in Oscar's and Cathy's eyes was completely the same. She did not know what it was, but she really liked it.
And as a show of her commitment and approval, and thirst for more, Cathy raised her fleshy buttocks to slide the impeding garment off of her. Her underwear dropped down her thighs and fell around her calves and ankles. She sat back and spread her legs, and Oscar resumed. He resumed with a vengeance. Mounting the sofa now, with a mighty foreleg on either side of the girl and his paws firmly planted, the dog licked her naked, hairless twat up and down, up and down. Sometimes her grazed her tender flesh with his teeth, and it frightened her, but the pleasure was too great for her to concern herself about being bitten.
"Ooooo… Oscar, don't…" Cathy insisted with robotic protestation, but for the first time in her eleven years, with a buzzing warmth and euphoria which overwhelmed her like a god, Cathy's clitoris became hard. Each lap of the mastiff's tongue sent terrific waves of pleasure through her. Oscar tirelessly and swiftly dragged his tongue up and down her stiffening vulva, each moment's delight dwarfing the last moment's.
Cathy had been nibbling the index finger on a balled up little fist. Now she arched her back and fell back as if she was going to swoon, but there was nowhere for her to go. The dog had pinned her to the back of the sofa. Arching and groaning, she ran her hands up her body and found her undeveloped breasts. Her nipples were hard. They were very taut and amazingly sensitive now, something which they had never been, but Cathy gave very little thought to the new sensation, but, instead, let hands do what mind hadn't any head for.
"Owwww…." she moaned, as she pinched her nipples, startled by the feeling it gave her. It was a very pleasurable feeling.
Nevertheless, the cry she had given startled Oscar, who was first and foremost her protector, and so he stopped and looked up at her. But far from knowing any sort of distress, Cathy took that opportunity to leave her breasts alone long enough to take hold of her dress with crossed arms and lift it up, taking the garment up over her shoulders and head. Pulling her arms from the sleeves, she deposited her dress on the couch next to her. Now she was totally naked and ready for her canine lover. The record on the gramophone had ended, and so, the room was quiet and seemingly expectant, as if the world itself had stopped turning and awaited what would come next.
Fearing that Oscar's oral caress would not recommence, Cathy took a chocolate from the ravaged box and, demonstrating the mysterious genius of the sexual ingenue, began to tease the mastiff with the piece of candy. She waved it in front of his face, and Oscar followed it with his eyes and head. But accustomed to being teased by the mischievous girl, the dog awaited the right vantage to strike.
Cathy saw, with surprise, that the mastiff's large, pink cock had emerged from its sheath. And although she was just a child, she knew it was she who had made the dog hard.
The dancing chocolate dove. It brushed her inner thigh, leaving a delicious brown streak, before the naughty, frisky girl dragged it over her vulva.
"Ahhhh…" Cathy moaned, stiffening. The candy felt weird against her clit, but it was a truly wonderful species of weird. She rubbed the chocolate over her pussy, turning it brown. For a moment it disappeared inside her, but she took it out and danced it up to her mouth as Oscar watched. It missed her mouth and brushed her nose, leaving a brown streak. She pouted and applied the chocolate to her lips, as if putting on lipstick.
The mastiff's head dipped to her crotch again. First he licked the chocolate off her thigh and then his tongue returned to her twat.
"Mmmm…." Cathy sighed, grinning. "Yes, Oscar. Lick my cunny…" She still held the candy in front of her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and, flickering it like a snake, licked the chocolate, which melted in her hand, and ran down into her palm.. It tasted funny. It wasn't just the chocolate and Oscar's saliva. She tasted her own juices on the sweetmeat. Her awakened cunt was as wet as it could be. She liked how she tasted, and popped the chocolate in her mouth, and slowly ate it as the dog ate her. Chocolate, opium, rum, Oscar, and herself filled her mouth, and Cathy grew even more drunk, stoned, and turned on. Her breathing quickened, and she began to undulate her pelvis up and down.
"More…" she moaned. She slowly licked her chocolate-coated lips. Her tongue was brown, her mouth was wet. She sighed, almost petulantly. "I need more…" His tongue was not enough. Her boiling twat was hungry for more. And Cathy's eyes lit up as a wonderful idea occurred to her.
Laughing, she slid off the couch and got down on all fours like a canine bitch in heat. "Rrrrr…" she growled, looking back at Oscar as she laughed. "Rrrrr…ruff!" She stuck her ass in the air and wiggled it at him seductively.
The mastiff needed no further invitation.
Oscar mounted her. His powerful forelegs embraced her, encircling her shoulders easily, so that she was utterly his to command. Suddenly the dog's penis pierced her wet cunt, and Cathy cried out. Her hymen shattered as he smashed into the small and tight orifice, and red splattered the driving pink. The pain she felt was a mere pinch, which vanished instantly, and opened the door to the vast pleasure which swelled inside her. His prick felt impossibly large, like all the dog had entered her.
Her pussy hugged his cock quite closely, but her twat leaked abundant pleasure juice, and sucked in the huge invader as if it were food. "Ahhhhh…hehh!" she gasped loudly, as he violently humped her. In-out, in-out, in-out. She rolled her pelvis back into his groin as his cock slid in and out of her, tearing through her moist insides. Her cunt sucked as he thrust into her, and it surrendered as he pulled out. They were in perfect synch. It seemed as if their fuck muscles were one, and that the girl and the dog had become a machine. In the blur of vigorously working flesh, it looked as though a lycanthropic metamorphosis had occurred.
"Ooooo!" Cathy cried, in ecstasy. Her face was flushed, her eyes drunk with lust. Her mouth lolled open wide, as she panted and grinned. Oscar's claws tore into her shoulders, making wounds, but they did not trouble her.
The slippery friction amazed her. His huge, snakelike organ filled and stretched her cunt, the tender flesh of which kissed and continuously lubricated the long, fat, taut, driving thing. "Ohhh…" the girl moaned. "Fuck me, Oscar…fuck me…" It was the first time she had used the word. She had heard the word. No one was careful how they spoke here. She hadn't really understood. She had had an idea, and in the midst of experiencing the act with such a passionate name, she learned, in person, what it was.
"Fuck me…fuck me…"
Oscar didn't know the word, but he required no instructions, and would have ignored anything she would have told him anyway.
The opium transformed him in her mind. She couldn't see him very well, arranged in the animal-like joining, and her senses were quite disordered. And so, she partially forgot what a dog was, or, at the very least, forgot that it was merely a dog which was fucking her. Back home, back in the innocent and wholesome countryside, there had been a pretty youth of whom she had been fond. She had had a crush on him, but her thoughts had been confined to an admiration of his beauty. She hadn't ever thought very much about a physical expression of her feelings, nor had she wondered what lay beneath his simple farmhand's clothes. But now, for some mysterious reason, the boy, whose name was Alan, merged with Oscar.
Alan's handsome and boyish face became debauched by lupine features. Long and thick hair sprouted from his cheeks, his eyes became those of an animal, and snarling fangs emerged from his sensuous lips. Oscar's quadruped form became anthropomorphic. His forelegs became muscular and shaggy arms. His paws became vast, hairy hands, with dreadful talons.
It was too much for her. The two of them had been steadily building in their sexual ecstasies towards orgasm. The notion that she was having sex with a werewolf drove her over the edge. Cathy's breathing grew coarse and short, and her pretty face became contorted.
"Oooooo! Ahhhh! Ohhhhh…." She pounded back into what pounded forward, and was wracked by euphoric spasms. She came just as Oscar came, drenching the mastiff's spurting dick. His cock shot cum deep inside her. "Ohh!" she cried. "It is good! Good!" Each wet spurt caused an explosion in her awakened flesh, like the first drops of rain on arid soil.
The dog withdrew from her, and Cathy collapsed and writhed on the floor, still orgasming. She rolled onto her back, thrust her crotch into the air, and drove several fingers into her voracious cunt. Her pussy was very gooey, filled with both her own cum and Oscar's. "More!" she cried. "More!" and drove her entire hand in, mercilessly abusing herself. She came and came. Awakened, she never wanted to sleep.