Cyra, the fusion of Skye and Craig, makes Red pay for her sins with her body

Previously:

Hank left behind his chauvinistic ways after being trapped in a muscular futanari body and adopting a new identity and name in Red. Craig, the dork she bullied, and Skye, the alt-girl she ghosted, have been merged into a gothy witch with **** on her mind.

Red

Red slowly began to realize she had been struck. She was vaguely aware of pain blossoming on her cheek, but that information seemed inconsistent with the nonchalant posture of the woman in front of her.

“Did you just slap me?”

The woman’s mismatched eyes-one brown and one blue-scanned Red with cold calculation. Gone was Skye’s manic rage.

Still, I get the feeling she’s upset with me.

Fishnet stockings flexed over soft thighs as the woman bent her knees slightly to lower her center of gravity. Barely visible abdominal muscles contracted under the skin of her waist, moving the energy of her motion further up her body. Her shoulders turned, sending a jiggle through her breasts and making her nipple piercings flash in the dim light. An elegant arm, wrapped in a lacy sleeve, cocked back to deliver its payload.

Oh, that’s a fist.

The blow hit Red in the jaw, whipping her head to the side. Red winced, idly rubbing the side of her face.

“Are you mad at me?”

The woman’s face, previously a mask of smug superiority, slipped momentarily into wide-eyed surprise, then exasperation.

“How am I to fulfill my purpose, you… you insensate brute.” The woman’s voice was measured in tone, but thick and rich as honey.

“Your purpose?” Red asked, more confused than ever.

“You will address me as Cyra,” she announced. “I am an avatar of justice. I am Karma.”

“So you are mad at me,” Red said, nodding her head, pretending to know what’s going on.

Cyra scoffed and rolled her eyes before regaining her composure.

“Skye, the maiden you besmirched. She was “mad.” I am not mad. I am determined, focused.”

“But you hit me,” Red mumbled, still trying to keep up.

“Did you not invite your compatriot, Craig, to strike you? He had ample cause for grievance but was held back by his so-called “chivalry.” I have no such restraints.”

“Oh, I get it. He couldn’t hit me, but you can. So now we’re even.”

Cyra’s lip curled, baring her teeth.

“Would that it were so. Your lamentable martial prowess has rendered my attacks moot. I must thus concoct another punishment for you.”

Cyra stroked a nimble, black nailed finger across her chin.

“Are we stuck on punishment? Like, for real punishment?” Red asked.

“‘If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, I’ll do it.’ Did these words not pass your lips? Will you honor your vow? Or does the soul of the vile Hank still dwell within your breast?”

Red wilted under Cyra’s withering gaze.

“I’m not him anymore,” she mumbled, “Craig knows.”

“That boy is hopelessly enamored with you. His lust clouds his judgment. A part of this vessel, it strains even my own considerable will.”

Red’s ears perked up at the mention of Craig’s lust.

Don’t get your hopes up. You look like his girlfriend. The girlfriend who’s gone because of you. That’s all. But if this chick has to deal with a raging libido too...

“Tell me about it, sister,” Red commiserated. “The necklace really does a number on you. It feels like I’m always ready and raring.”

Cyra scrunched her nose in disgust.

“You claim to be rid of your toxic masculinity, yet you yearn as always for your own sexual gratification. This very night, were you not exalting your retained manhood?”

“Oh, come on, we were just goofing around. I know I got a little competitive at the end there, but that’s just…” she paused, “Just some of my Hank leaking out.”

Red took a deep breath, her shoulders slumped.

“Look, I’m really trying, here. I had to live that life for so long, it’s been hard figuring out who I am without it. I dunno, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m only pretending to be better.”

Cyra’s expression softened for a moment before she nodded to herself, apparently coming to a decision.

“Your sin is pride. Hank thought only of himself. His pleasure. His reputation. He was willing to use **** to protect his image.”

Red winced at the memory.

“I have seen the shame you carried in your heart,” she said cryptically, “I am sympathetic to your struggle. With the desire that could not be spoken.”

Red stiffened.

How does she know about that? No one knows that. Did she read my mind? Is she a real witch?

Cyra’s enchanting eyes seemed to peer into Red’s very soul.

“I have decided your punishment. As you have abused Craig to preserve your pride, you will submit yourself to be humiliated. As you expected sexual subservience from Skye before tossing her aside, you will be used as a tool for my sexual pleasure.”

Whew. I can think of worse ways to make up for past misdeeds than going a few rounds with a goth hottie.

“You will disrobe,” Cyra ordered.

“As you wish,” Red replied, flashing her winningest grin. She faltered, however, when it was met by the same stone-faced stare.

Red pulled her tank top over her head, revealing the expanse of her lean torso. Next came sweatpants. She felt the urge to roll her hips enticingly, or flex the muscles of her thighs; anything to break the tension in the silent room.

“All of it,” Cyra specified.

“If we’re doing this, are you gonna…”

Red withered under Cyra’s wordless glare.

Off came the sports bra and boy shorts, leaving Red nude. She awkwardly covered herself with her hands and waited for the next command.

Cyra walked over to Craig’s desk and picked up his phone, accessing it with his passcode. Her lip faintly curled up in a smile, she sauntered back and snapped a shot of Red.

*Click*

“Hey!” Red protested.

“Do you not have salacious images of Skye in your possession?”

“That’s true, but…” Red countered lamely, “That’s Craig’s phone.”

“I shall send them to Skye.”

“And then delete them, right?”

Red’s request was met with an imperious smirk.

“You would deny him evidence of your contrition?”

I have a bad feeling about this.

Red squirmed and heat rose on her cheeks as she imagined Craig finding that picture later.

“Hands down.”

Red’s cheeks burned, and she had to resist the urge to lower her head or look away. Her nipples crinkled in the cool air.

This is fine. This is me now. They deserve to see me as I am.

*Click*

“Kneel. You will pleasure me.”

“Okay, I get it,” Red said, nodding, as she got to her knees. “Skye would blow me, and I never returned the favor. So eating you out makes up for that.”

Red reached out for Cyra's skirt, but the woman stepped backward out of her reach.

“Patience,” she chided, while languidly pulling off one of her black lace arm sleeves.

“This will be for my pleasure and at my direction. I will bind you with this,” she gestured to the sleeve, running it over her fingers, “but your fetters will be symbolic. Are you true to your word that you have changed? Will you keep your vow to pay penance? Or will you revert to your base instinct?”

Red bowed her head, pummeled by accusations.

“I won’t fight you,” she said, barely audible.

Cyra ceremoniously bound Red’s wrists loosely together with the black lace. Red licked her lips, staring intently at Cyra’s frustratingly concealing skirt. Her mind raced with lewd thoughts and her body warmed in expectation.

“Not to brag,” Red bragged, “but since getting a pussy, I’ve learned a lot about what feels good down there. You better get ready, ‘cause it’s time to show off what I practiced.”

“That does sound appealing,” Cyra said mischievously, a smirk spreading across her face, “but you demanded fellatio and your penance will be in kind, my dear.”

Cyra lifted her skirt with a flourish, revealing a familiar cock. Red gaped at the sight. Her mouth watered, and she gulped in expectation as the shaft started to rise in small jerks. It was unmistakably Craig’s dick, now framed by a small patch of trimmed blue pubic hair. Red’s eyes traveled down to take in a smooth scrotum, its promise of masculine virility in stark contrast to breeding hips and soft thighs.

Red closed her eyes and took a deep sniff, trying to savor the aroma. She was rewarded with a scent she somehow recognized as Craig’s, but undercut with the sharp smell of wet pussy.

Fuck, I must be hornier than I thought.

Red’s eyes crossed as they tracked the cockhead on its slow path to her mouth. Without realizing it, her lips softly parted, her tongue extending for a taste.

“Behold! The once mighty Hank, now brought so low.”

A triumphant leer split Cyra’s face. Her thighs clenched, and she choked back a moan as Red slathered attention on her rod. Red gazed up at her with reverence as she took the cockhead fully into her mouth and started sucking.

Cyra’s hand traveled behind Red’s head to grab her forcefully by the hair. Red choked in surprise when her head was pulled forward onto Cyra’s cock.

Red lifted her arms in a defensive posture, only to feel the tug of the lace around her wrists. Outrage and fear flooded her veins with adrenaline. The muscles in her arms tensed, ready to shred her flimsy restraint and fight back.

Cyra’s eyes widened in triumphant recognition.

“At last, Red shows her true colors.”

No. I don’t need to fight anymore.

With supreme effort, Red **** herself to relax. She looked upward, her bright green eyes burning with defiance. Cyra looked down at her with an eyebrow raised, a look of surprised admiration on her face.

With practiced ease, Red swallowed, taking Cyra down her throat until her nose was nestled in blue pubic hair. Red’s heart swelled with pride when the room was filled with a shocked wail that trailed into a low moan.

“Fuck. How the hell is she so good at that?” Cyra whispered to herself.

Cyra’s fingers gripped Red’s hair, and she started thrusting. Balls slapped against Red’s chin, and her ears were filled with the rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck of a hard shaft invading her throat.

Red wished, again, that she wasn’t restrained. Not to stop Cyra, but to grab her ass and feel her glutes as they flexed.

Before long, Red noticed the telltale signs of Cyra’s impending eruption. Her breathing went ragged, and the tempo of her hips picked up. With one final thrust, Red felt Cyra’s balls churn and contract, moments before her cock delivered its payload directly down her throat.

With a roar, Cyra gripped Red's hair while shooting jet after jet of hot cum. Even after pulling out, there was still enough virile spunk to baste Red's face with a few shots before Cyra finally flagged, her legs trembling.

*Click*

Red was still catching her breath when she heard Craig’s camera capturing her with a load of jizz painting her face.

I must look like such a slut.

Cyra looked down at her with a smug look of superiority.

Maybe I am a slut, who fucking cares?

Red let go of her shame and beamed back up at Cyra, resting her chin on her still-bound hands and coyly fluttering her eyelashes.

Cyra scoffed, clearly exasperated.

“The depths of your debauchery make a mockery of your penance. Perhaps my final test shall be one of self-control.”

Red gulped.

Cyra remained flushed, her thighs rubbing together as she guided Red to Craig’s bed. Red lay back, her legs spread to display herself entirely to Cyra’s inspection.

“I will pleasure you, but deny you release. You will alert me when you are at the precipice of your rapture. You will not touch yourself or ignite the joining fire without my permission.”

Red’s cock was already straining toward the ceiling, but she felt herself warm in expectation. Her breath hitched as the curvy goth settled onto the bed between her legs. Red moaned at the light touch of a black nailed finger on the head of her cock. Cyra traced it down Red’s length, then around the smooth expanse of Red’s vulva.

Red squirmed, her breath coming faster. Her nipples ached to be fondled, but she kept her wrists together and her hands balled into tight fists.

Cyra stepped it up, taking Red’s dick into her mouth and sucking while a hand teased her delicate folds. She alternated with plunging her tongue into Red’s depths while jacking her off. Red’s toes curled, and she let out a string of breathy moans.

“Almost there,” Red gasped. “I’m gonna… I’m…”

Just on the edge of the cliff, Cyra suddenly disengaged, stopping all stimulation. Red muffled a scream of frustration as her tantalizingly close climax started to subside. She had no chance to recover before Cyra was on her again, stimulating her cockhead, her shaft, her vagina, even her thighs and nipples.

Cyra played Red’s body like an expert musician, keeping her teetering on the edge of oblivion. The minutes stretched out into maddening infinity. Red’s cock turned purple, its veins bulging from the stimulation. Her body screamed at her to be allowed release.

Rage started to bubble up from deep within Red. The desire for control, the need to protect her fragile heart from an uncaring world. Remnants of an old life, a discarded name, they surged within Red, urging her to fight back. To attack.

No. I won’t. I’m not that person anymore.

With a supreme effort of will, she clasped her hands together, intertwining her fingers. Her biceps bulged, but the hands held fast.

Cyra finally gave herself a satisfied nod. She licked Red’s urethra, bathing it with saliva before pursing her lips to blow.

“Come for me.”

That was enough, and Red went off like a rocket. She convulsed, her body arching like a bow in the throes of her ecstasy. She was vaguely aware of cum painting her body and her pussy contracting hungrily before her consciousness fled in the face of an overwhelming **** of pleasure.

—

Red groaned as she shifted on the bed. Her muscles burned with exertion, and it took her a moment to remember why her pussy was throbbing with need. Her eyes fluttered open to find her hands still locked firmly together. She let out a sigh of relief.

Scanning the room, Red found Cyra in front of the floor-length mirror. Some time must have passed, because her clothes and shoes were in a pile on the floor, leaving her nude but for her collar. Her cock stood at attention, but her focus was entirely on her own ass. Her mouth hung open in astonishment as she gripped and caressed the impossibly smooth globes.

Cyra somehow became aware of Red and turned to her, a broad smile on her black lips.

“Sleeping beauty wakes,” she announced, striding toward the bed. “You have passed your trial and made amends for your past wrongdoing. Now, for your reward.”

Crya hummed enigmatically to herself, her hands making elaborate gestures in the air. She walked with an exaggerated sway to her hips, giving a bounce to her boobs with each step. Red’s eyes instinctively tracked the cyclical motion of Cyra’s pierced nipples.

Cyra removed the black lace from the muscular futa’s wrists, and Red hissed in relief as she lay back, shaking out her cramped hands. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Cyra had joined her on the bed until she felt the pressure of something hard sliding along her slick labia.

Red snapped her head down in horror to see Cyra lining up her cock with Red’s virgin entrance.

“No!” Red squealed, slamming her legs together so hard that the slap of flesh echoed in the small room.

Not that, anything but that. I was saving that for him.

Cyra was stunned, looking down at Red hesitantly.

“I would have thought you would welcome relief from thy wanton quim.”

Red curled herself into a ball on the bed.

“You’re right, of course. Even as Hank, I would do whatever it took to get laid. I just… I wanted my first time taking someone in me… I wanted it to be special. With someone who loves me. It’s stupid, I know.

“When did I ever make it special for any… f-for”

The words would no longer come out, choked off in Red’s throat. Her eyes pinched closed and her face scrunched, but her efforts were futile. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes before spilling over to run down the sides of her face.

As if karma would let me have a special first time. Offering this still doesn’t make up for all I’ve done.

With a shuddering sigh, Red rolled onto her back and let her legs splay open. She spread her labia open in invitation but looked away.

“Go ahead,” Red said, resigned to her fate. “Get it over with. This is what I deserve.”

“You speak of love?” Cyra mused. “A mockery of love. I will decide what you deserve.”