A Wonderfully Vinegary Jorōgumo Yokai

The sunlight pierces through the small window square and illuminates an attic room with wooden walls that could have been a storage room, but is thoroughly filled with glistering, white spider webbing. Massive strands of spider silk hang all over the room, cover the walls and form a maze of woven walls, stairs and floors throughout the entire building, light like silk yet strong like steel. A reddish miasma lies heavily in the air and stings lovingly in my nostrils. I take a deep breath of acrid smoke, cum and the dominating stench of rotten, boiling vinegar, then open my eyes and stretch to wake up my stiff body.

With a satisfied sigh, I spread my arms, letting a cloud of rank body odor free, and climb out of my hammock. I climb towards the window and look outside, my head roughly above the tree crowns, and watch a flock of birds rise and fly towards the horizon. One might call it risky to hang up a hammock right below the roof of a pagoda without floors, about 30 meters above ground level. But I love being so high above the ground, and for two reasons it is completely save to sleep this high up, even in a hammock: The spider silk that is spread throughout the pagoda and even forms entire platforms is soft like, well, silk, yet tougher than most minerals, so you could safely walk all the way up towards the top and in case you fell, would not fall far and land on a cushioned, floor-like structure of woven fabric. And second, it is quite tough to lose your footing and fall when you have the legs of a spider.

That’s where being a Jorōgumo comes in handy. Having eight legs can make a woman extremely sexy, especially when they are very long, thin and tipped with sharp, edged points that can pierce through thick steel plates. Not to mention the shiny, pitch black carapace that covers them, tough as armor-grade steel and wonderfully sparkly. I have tested the toughness of both my clawed feet and my carapace multiple times when hunting, so I have a pretty good idea of how tough it is. And it makes walking on the woven floors and structures easy. Have I mentioned how nice they look when colored?

My spider abdomen has the same chitinous cover as my legs, only I like to keep its natural black color and natural crimson red and burgundy patterns. Wonderful obscenities of decay and submission are painted onto my large, wide back, scenes of spiders making weaker creatures submit to their feet, topped off by a skull pattern, larger than a human skull, with fangs that drip a dark red, deadly venom. Especially lovely when it’s been polished by my servants. Currently I have a silver painting on my legs, one that contrasts nicely with my greenish toejam.

After another stretching and a satisfied yawn, I step away from the window and towards the section of the pagoda I use as a washing and cosmetic table. Yes, monster girls wash, at least I do. My face is way too beautiful to not keep it clean, although what I use to wash is not water, but fermented piss. I generously wash my face over a bowl filled with the clear and colorless, but wonderfully strong-smelling liquid, letting a few drops fall onto my ample breasts and into my cleavage, then dry it with a silk cloth. After that, I move towards my cosmetic table to look in the large silver mirror. The face that greets me is flawless and perfect as always, the pale complexion, thin nose, high and noble cheek bones, the puffy, kissable lips and the piercing purple eyes that look back at me, staring directly into my soul and promising nights of passion and ecstasy. All eight of them. The higher they sit on my forehead, the darker their color gets, from a bright purple all the way to solid orbs of pitch black. Each pair can see different things, from perfect night vision to emotion and feelings, a flawless multi-vision that is my strongest weapon of seduction and the feature I’m most proud of. Except for my foot stench, of course.

I apply a generous amount of makeup to my face to further enhance my looks and give me that hint of tackiness that weak-minded men are drawn towards. Even after being held as my smelling slaves for over a decade, most men still lose their inhibitions when they see me made up like this, despite clearly knowing that they are merely toys for me to play with and break as I wish. The cosmetics are made by demon girls and also enhance my smell, the dark purple lipstick tasting like fishy pussy, the concealer and rouge smelling like a mix of various cheeses and the eyeshadow, also purplish black and smoky, smells just like my favorite variant of toejam. The demons I get it from even claim that queen Elizabeth personally approved the smell of their products. I have no way of confirming it, but considering they are still making good business, it cannot be too far off, given the vampire queen’s arrogance and vengeful nature.

Now sufficiently made up, I brush my long, silky black hair and pull it into a loose tail that rests atop my spider abdomen. I will have to get my servant to braid it for me before going out. Can’t go out without looking my best. A generous spray of my favorite perfume, a scent of rotten fruit that combines wonderfully with my own natural odor, completes my cosmetics routine. I then pull aside a curtain of spider silk to reveal my walk-in closet filled with wonderfully sexy dresses, skirts and boots of all the delicious materials a stinky monster girl like me wants. Some of the clothes might seem out of place, like the catsuits or the thick, heavy leather boots that would be hard to pull off with spider legs, but being a Jorōgumo, I have a fully human form as well. I do like my monstrous form much better, but at the very least my stench stays the same in both forms. I still prefer having eight wonderfully stinky feet instead of just two, not just because I can torment more weak little humans with them at once, but also because I can smell my deliciously pungent stench myself better. Not to mention I feel so much stronger, wilder and naughtier when having a humongous spider abdomen.

This morning I feel dominant, so I select a leather corset that squeezes my ample bosoms upwards and makes them appear even larger than they already are. It leaves my perky nipples uncovered and erect and sits tight enough against my waist that it looks like my chitinous spider part extends all the way up towards my breasts. Feeling wicked, I grab a cat-o-ninetails with a grip formed like a cock from a rack and whip it a few times, then turn towards a cocoon in the wall that contains one of my servants. She lives in my closet and is supposed to help me with dressing and cosmetics. I lightly whip her silk-covered form and the cocoon splits, revealing her pathetically small, almost childish figure. Despite her looks, she has been my servant for almost fifteen years now. I treat her relatively well, so she serves me quite willingly, but I strike her with the whip nonetheless, just because I feel like it.

Having my servant pull the corset tight always makes my pussy tingle, especially when I caress her with the whip teasingly. She then braids my hair into a long, thick tail that is still longer than she is tall. While pampers me, she compliments my looks, my amazing body and my stench. I must admit myself that I am smelling quite wonderful today. I have taken up the habit of working out before I go to bed recently, after a tip from a lovely cat girl, and it has done wonders for my body odor. While I never had strong smelling sweat and armpits, it has gotten quite a bit stronger and is now musky enough to make my slaves uncomfortable when they service my armpits and body. Since I use cosmetics on my hair, I can change the smell I am surrounded by while I sleep or, while I wear braided tails, smell as a concentrated aroma. This week, I have opted for the sickly-sweet smell of cougar piss, after the encounter with said cat girl. Her feet smelled just like this, just stronger and better, and her piss was so delicious, hot and rancid, yet surprisingly sweet at the same time. Sad she was a wanderer. She really knew what a monster girl likes…

Now satisfied with my servant’s work, I nod and pull her up and into a searing hot kiss. She kisses me back like her live depends on it, despite being disgusted by the taste of my lipstick, knowing full well that she won’t see me, or anyone, until the next morning. After a few minutes of hot, sticky snogging and enjoying her hands on my sensitive tits, I pull her off and push her onto her knees. “As a reward for your good work today, you are allowed to kiss my feet and take a mouthful of my toejam”, I say and extend my front legs towards her.

What awaits her is bliss for all monster girls, but **** for all humans, even the most committed stink sluts. The vinegary stench that wafts up from my feet is strong enough to knock the strongest men out easily and the sweat that drips from them tastes wonderfully disgusting. Since I am part spider and thus related to the Arachne queen Macta, my stench is dominated by the concentrated strength of a whole lake of rotten, boiling vinegar. Similarly, my toejam also tastes distinctly vinegary, but even better as the creamy slime absorbs not only the vinegary smell, but also the fishy stench of filthy pussy and the odor of rotten cum from when I make my foot slaves squirt their pathetic little man cum all over them.

Amazing as that sounds, my toejam production is quite low, only able to cover a couple centimeters of my legs after a whole week, so allowing my servant to take a mouthful of it is very generous. Maybe it’s because each of my legs produce a different taste, a different variant of vinegary delicacy, a feat that only the mightiest of arachnid monster girls share. My two front legs have a noticeable aroma of ammonia on them, tasting a bit like animal piss, but different than my own piss. There even is a subtle difference between left and right side. Well, the smellier, the better, and I really am quite proud of my wonderfully disgusting feet.

My servant is not so enthusiastic but kneels nonetheless and places a kiss onto both of my front legs, then pulls her tongue over them and gives them a full lick to really scrape off some of the delicious, creamy slime that covers them. “Keep it inside your lovely mouth, my dear”, I instruct her. “You were tasting entirely too weak for my liking today.” Well trained as she is, she barely lets her discomfort show as she moves the wonderfully rancid slime around in her mouth. Normally I would have let is slide, but today, I am playing evil mistress, so I whip her back and shout at her: “Don’t you dare make a face again if you want to sleep tonight, you lowly worm. You should be grateful I allow you to taste such a delicacy.” She starts whining and apologizing while bowing deeply, but I shut her up with another hit of my whip and tell her to get into her cocoon again. “If you dare to swallow my toejam before tomorrow, you’ll be in a world of hurt”, I tell her and crack the whip to intimidate her further. She nods with frightened eyes before I seal her inside her silky prison again.

Now that I am properly dressed and made up, I can get my day started. I have a tight schedule planned for today, so I better get going.