Welcome to the Parlor

Evernight Castle, The North Tower Duplex

9:07 PM — Thursday, 15th October, 2015

The moment you step through the double doors of the North Tower suite, the frantic clinking of chain and sounds of thrashing die.

The apartment is a cage wrapped in velvet. Gilded chandeliers cast a warm, mocking glow over plush carpets and mahogany furnishings, but the illusion of luxury falls apart at the perimeter. Heavy iron ringlets are anchored deep into the obsidian walls, securing the thick chains that bind Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and Blake to an oversized chaise lounge. Dark leather gags are buckled tight over their lips, reducing their defiance to shallow, muffled puffs of air.

You don't enter alone.

"Careful with the tray, Rae-Rae! Master likes his tea super hot, remember?"

Summer Rose breezes into the parlor, her golden bikini top glinting under the crystal light, her sheer red pelvic curtains fluttering around her knees with every clumsy step.

She carries a polished silver tray laden with a steaming porcelain teapot. Her silver eyes—the exact, striking shade of her daughter's—are wide and radiantly empty, fixed on you with a blissful, dopey smile.

Following immediately behind her is Raven Branwen.

The legendary bandit queen navigates the doorway with a soft, airheaded giggle, her heavy golden armlets clinking rhythmically. She balances a plate of freshly baked pastries, her raven-black hair cascading over her bare shoulders. Her eyes are entirely focused on you, a permanent, glossy pout resting on her lips.

"I know, dummy," Raven squeaks back in her breathy, vapid accent, her exaggerated hips swaying as she waddles over to the central table. "Like, I'm totally not gonna spill it. I'm Master’s good girl."

The reaction on the couch is instantaneous and devastating.

A muffled, strangled scream tears at the back of Yang’s gag. She lurches forward, her iron chains rattling violently against the stone as she watches her mother casually set down a plate of pastries with the dim-witted docility of a trained pet.

Raven doesn't even flinch at the noise. She simply turns her head, looking at her thrashing, gagged daughter through long, dark lashes with a look of mild, uncomprehending confusion.

"Oh, wow," Raven giggles, turning back to you and pressing her oversized breasts together. "Master, the little blonde pet is making so much noise. Is she, like, hungry or something? Should I feed her a cookie?"

You take the cup of tea from Summer’s tray, swirling the steaming amber liquid casually. "No, Rae-Rae. The little blonde pet isn't hungry. She’s just throwing a tantrum."

Raven tilts her head, her vacant pink eyes blinking in slow, dense fascination. "A tantrum? Like, why?"

"Think about it," you say, flashing a slow, dark smile as you look over the rim of your cup at the bound huntresses. "When do you usually get cranky and loud?"

Raven taps a manicured, glossy finger against her plump, pouting lips, her single-digit IQ visibly straining before her face lights up with an airheaded realization. "Oh! Oh, my gosh, totally! Like, whenever my tummy gets super empty, or... or when it's been, like, way too many hours since you stuffed your big, hot cock inside me!" She lets out a breathless, syrupy giggle, her massive chest bouncing violently. "Is that why she’s mad, Master? Because she hasn't gotten your yummy cock inside her yet?"

"Exactly," you murmur, your voice dripping with cold amusement. "She’s just like you. She has all that tight, frustrated energy and if she doesn't have anywhere to put it, she gets cranky." You give Raven's broad, soft hip a firm squeeze. "I'll give her what she needs once I'm done with my tea. In the meantime, why don't you go over there and help her take the edge off? I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Yay! I'm, like, so good at helping!" Raven squeaks, her six-inch stiletto heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor as she sways over to the chaise lounge.

Yang’s eyes widen to absolute dinner plates behind her leather gag. Her muffled screams turn frantic, a ****, animalistic thrashing as her own mother kneels between her pinned knees. Raven just giggles at the resistance, leaning her heavy, gravity-defying breasts directly against Yang’s lap. She reaches up with both hands, roughly kneading Yang’s face and stroking her blonde hair with a patronizing, dim-witted affection.

"Shh, it's okay, little pet," Raven coos in her breathy Valley Girl accent, pressing her plumped, glossy lips right against Yang's forehead, leaving a sticky, wet smudge. "Don't be so grumpy. Master is gonna take such good care of you. You're gonna love being his toy, I promise!"

You cross the parlor toward a grand, high-backed armchair, sliding into the velvet seat and pulling the front of your tailored coat open. You are positioned directly facing Raven and Yang so you can enjoy the show, but you can use some physical entertainment to go with the mental delight. Thankfully, you have an extra bimbo for just that.

"Summer," you snap your fingers once.

"Yes, Master!" she chirps instantly, setting the silver tray down with a soft rattle. She glides over to your chair, her soft thighs brushing your knees before she turns and lowers her voluptuous rear onto your lap. She settles back against your chest with a blissful, soft sigh, her head resting perfectly in the crook of your neck.

Your fingers trace down the soft, pale skin of her ribs, your hand sliding under the glinting gold of her bikini top to possessively cup and knead one of her heavy, oversized breasts. She lets out a quiet, syrupy coo, her body immediately going soft and yielding against yours.

"Watch me, Master!" Raven squeaks, noticing you are looking at Summer instead of her. "Look how good I am!"

Raven finds the waistband of Yang's pants and starts to pull them down. Yang’s muffled screams reach a fever pitch, the thick leather gag straining against her lips as she violently thrashes her hips. The heavy iron chains clank and rattle in a frantic, metallic rhythm against the mahogany ringlets. But without her Aura, her mortal muscles are completely useless at breaking free.

Raven effortlessly drags down both her pants and underwear to her mid-calves. She lowers her mouth to her daughter's pussy, intentionally raising her own ass high into the air as her face drops, giving you a perfect, unobstructed view of her massive, heart-shaped bubble ass. She wiggles it enticingly, inviting you to claim her while she eats out her daughter, and you can't say you're not tempted.

You run a hand down Summer’s soft belly, your fingers tracing the edge of her sheer red pelvic curtains. Scanning over the other girls on the lounge, you say, "Summer, go tend to the little silver-eyed one. She's feeling so left out she looks like she's about to cry."

"Oh, no! We can't have that!" Summer chirps instantly, her voice dripping with brainwashed, manic sweetness.

She crawls off your lap and across the plush carpet on all fours, her heavy, unyielding tits swaying over the fabric before she parks herself directly in front of Ruby. Ruby goes entirely rigid, the air completely escaping her lungs as her mother—the legendary, pristine hero of her childhood—gently cups her face.

"Don't cry, sweetie," Summer whispers softly, her thumb tracing the trembling line of Ruby's jaw. "Big sissie Summer is going to make it feel all better!"

Unlike Raven, who went straight for Yang's pussy, Summer decides to work her way down. She starts with a feather-light kiss on Ruby's lips, even through the leather gag, then presses another to her jawbone, trailing down the line of her neck. She deliberately licks and sucks at the pale skin, leaving dark, unmistakable marks on her daughter's flesh, giggling in delight with every new hickey she leaves.

In the interim, you take Raven up on her invitation. Leaving your pants behind, you move to kneel directly behind Raven's upturned ass, lining up perfectly with her slick pussy. You drive deep into the bimbofied whore in a single, unyielding thrust.

Raven lets out a high-pitched, ecstatic squeal against Yang's thigh, her heart-shaped rear twitching happily against your pelvis as you lock eyes with Yang. You look the terrified blonde straight in her bloodshot eyes while pumping into her mother. Leaning over Raven's trembling form, you plant a slow, deliberate kiss on the bombshell blonde's burning cheek as she desperately strains to pull away.

"This is going to be you soon," you tell her, enjoying the way your words cause her to instantly hyperventilate.

"Oh my gosh, you are, like, so tight and tense!" Raven giggles into Yang's lap, entirely oblivious to the psychological trauma being inflicted on her daughter. She reaches down and inserts a finger into Yang's pussy, trying to push it as far as she can. The finger doesn't make it far against the tight, unyielding friction. "You just need to relax, little pet. Like, seriously."

You snicker at her words, picking up the pace with a steady, heavy rhythm, your hips slamming into Raven’s soft ass with an unyielding momentum that shakes the entire chaise lounge. Raven’s breathy moans turn into a rhythmic, airheaded chant of praise, her fingers clawing at Yang’s exposed thighs as she deepens her tongue-lap, completely lost in the brainless euphoria of your touch.

Yang’s eyes are locked with yours, completely paralyzed as she is **** to absorb the wet, heavy sounds of you raw-dogging her biological mother while her step-mother leaves a trail of bruising, wet hickeys down her little sister’s throat just inches away.

"Mmm, Master," Summer coos from the other side of the lounge, her silver eyes shimmering with blank adoration as she lifts her head from Ruby’s neck, a thin strand of saliva connecting her plumped lips to Ruby’s bruised skin. "Look at her eyes. She’s, like, totally starstruck. I think she wants to be a good girl for you too."

"I think they all want to be good girls for me." You deliver three more heavy, deep thrusts into Raven, driving your length all the way home. She lets out a quivering, high-pitched squeak of pure, brainless ecstasy, her modified hips twitching uncontrollably as a shattering climax tears through her. She collapses limp against Yang’s trapped legs, panting heavily with a vapid, satisfied grin.

You start fucking her even harder, and Raven, sensitive from her climax, lets out a breathless, syrupy gasp, her hands slipping from Yang's thighs as she arches her back into your chest, completely consumed by her own pleasure. With her face lifted from her daughter's lap, the sudden lack of friction causes Yang's frantic, muffled whimpers to stutter.

Smack.

You bring your palm down hard across Raven’s soft, upturned cheek, the sharp crack echoing over the sound of your heavy thrusts.

"Ow! Master?" Raven squeaks, turning her head back with a dazed, pouting blink, her red eyes wide.

"You're being selfish, Rae-Rae," you chide, delivering another deep, punishing pump into her. "The little blonde pet hasn't cum yet, and you just stopped. Is that how a good girl behaves?"

"Oh my gosh, I'm like, so sorry, Master! I'm a bad girl!" Raven gasps, her airheaded face flushing with a mix of shame and arousal. She immediately turns back around, intentionally wiggling her heavy, heart-shaped ass against your pelvis to lock you deep inside her. She leans down over Yang’s pinned thighs, her long lashes fluttering. "I'm sorry, little pet! Big sis got totally distracted because Master feels so good inside me. Let me fix it!"

Yang’s bloodshot eyes widen in unadulterated horror behind her leather gag as her mother dives back down between her knees. This time, Raven goes at it even harder, her tongue working with a ****, brainwashed intensity to please both you and her daughter. Yang’s muffled screams turn into a frantic, hyperventilating sob, her chains rattling violently against the obsidian walls as her mother ruthlessly forces her body toward a shattering, unwanted climax.

While you steadily slide in and out of Raven's ****, pleading heat, you glance toward the far end of the lounge where Weiss and Blake are huddled together. Blake's face is completely translucent with horror, but Weiss's features are twisted into a tight, **** knot of defiance.

"You look like you want to say something," you muse, a dark smirk tugging at your lips as you maintain your heavy, rhythmic friction. With a flick of your wrist, the heavy leather gag falls from Weiss's mouth, dropping to the floorboards. "What is it?"

"What... what kind of sick, twisted illusion is this?" Weiss demands, her voice cracking sharply despite her best efforts to project dignified authority. She glares past you at Summer, who is currently tracing a wet path of hickeys down Ruby's collarbone, and then at Raven, who is enthusiastically devouring her own daughter. "What kind of Semblance are you using? Advanced neural manipulation? High-grade hallucinogenic Dust? You think a few grotesque parlor tricks and a stolen fortress will make us bow to a rogue terrorist?"

You let out a low, amused chuckle, your hips slamming hard into Raven, drawing a loud, breathy moan that fills the parlor. "I am a God. I have no use for semblances, dust, or any of your other mortal parlor tricks. This devotion," you run your hand over Raven's enormous ass, "is simply the natural response of a mortal soul recognizing its true master."

"You are not a God!" Weiss screams, her voice cracking under the weight of her **** denial. "You're a monster with a powerful ability! Gods aren't real! They are just children's stories, and you are just a man!"

The amused smirk vanishes from your face.

The casual, hedonistic atmosphere of the parlor instantly evaporates, replaced by a suffocating, freezing pressure. You stop thrusting. The abrupt halt draws a confused, breathy whimper from Raven, but you ignore her entirely, pulling out of her slick heat with a wet, heavy snap.

You turn your full, undivided attention to Weiss.

The heiress instantly recoils as far as her heavy iron chains allow, her breath catching violently in her throat. Her pale skin goes entirely translucent as she watches you step away from the whimpering bandit queen and stride directly toward her end of the lounge. Her chest heaves in a panic-stricken rhythm, her mind immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion. She expects a violent, sexual ****—expects you to tear into her clothes, to use her body to punish her tongue. She braces herself, closing her eyes tightly and flinching away.

But you don't touch her.

Instead, you simply stand before her and unleash your true, unmitigated divine presence.

The physical world shatters. The lavish velvet parlor, the mahogany furniture, and the very air of Evernight Castle cease to exist in an instant. In their place, a blinding, terrifyingly vast reality manifests as you shed your mortal guise. Your form expands, radiating an incandescent, cosmic weight that bends the fabric of space and time around you. The raw, unfiltered pressure of a true deity floods her consciousness—a terrifying majesty so absolute that it threatens to dissolve her mortal mind into nothingness.

The sheer, staggering magnitude of your existence crashes over her like a tidal wave, burning away every concept of science, Dust, and logic she has ever held dear. It is a presence that has witnessed the birth and **** of galaxies, an authority that commands the fundamental laws of creation itself.

"Not real, am I?"

Your voice doesn't travel through the air; it echoes directly inside the deepest recesses of her soul, vibrating with the concussive **** of a collapsing star.

Weiss’s eyes snap wide, but she isn't looking at a man anymore. She is staring directly into the terrifying abyss of the divine. The certainty of her atheism is instantly crushed, reduced to dust beneath the weight of your true form. She cannot breathe. She cannot think. Her entire being is paralyzed by a primal, existential dread that goes far deeper than a mere fear of physical harm.

And then, with a sharp, concussive snap, the pressure vanishes.

The cosmic weight recedes in a fraction of a second, locking itself back behind your mortal shell. The velvet parlor rushes back into view. The gilded chandeliers sway gently overhead, casting their warm, mocking glow over the plush carpets once more.

Weiss sits slumped against the chaise lounge, hyperventilating so violently that her chest hitches. Her eyes are completely bloodshot, glassy and unfocused as she stares at the space where your divine form had just been. Her hands tremble uncontrollably, her fingers clawing at the fabric of the sofa. Her mind frantically scrambles for an anchor, desperately trying to convince itself that what just happened was merely a hallucination.

"What... what did you..." she whispers, her voice barely a breath, her aristocratic poise utterly ruined.

You do not answer her with words. Instead, you casually walk toward the grand, floor-to-ceiling balcony windows, stepping into the pale light filtering through the glass. You look over your shoulder, your gaze locking onto her trembling form with a cold, merciless finality.

"If your mind cannot accept what it just felt, Weiss," you say smoothly, your voice dropping to a low purr, "then let your eyes look upon what a man cannot do. Look out the window."

Terrified, Weiss slowly forces her head to turn, her wide eyes lifting toward the grand balcony. Beside her, Blake follows her gaze, her cat ears pinned flat against her head in a state of absolute, paralyzed dread.

Outside, the permanent, bruised purple sky of the Land of Darkness hangs heavy over the world. Above the jagged spires of the fortress, the fractured crescent of the moon drifts in its eternal, broken alignment—the permanent scar of the world's ancient creators.

You raise your hand, closing it into a slow, deliberate fist. Then, you pull.

A silent, concussive tremor ripples through the entire atmosphere, vibrating through the glass panes of the suite. In the sky above, the drifting shards of rock suddenly halt in their tracks. Moving with a terrifying, synchronized fluidity, the massive chunks of the moon slam back together. The deep, glowing fractures seal themselves like melting glass, fusing into a perfect, flawless, unbroken ivory sphere. The entire sky groans under the sudden, massive restructuring of gravity.

Before any of the girls can process the rewritten night sky, you flick your wrist toward the distant, twinkling stars of a neighboring sector.

With a series of silent, blinding flashes, entire solar systems begin to shift. Stars drift across lightyears in a matter of seconds, locking into a new, terrifyingly precise alignment. When they finally stop, the ancient constellations have been completely erased, rewritten into a single, burning command that stretches across the cosmos in letters of pure starlight:

SUBMIT.

Weiss' body goes limp as she stares up at the sky. The sheer scale of what you just casually executed violates every law of physics, Dust, and logic she was ever taught. There is no Semblance in existence that can mend a shattered moon or rearrange stars twenty-five trillion miles away.

"Why..." Weiss finally whimpers, her voice a hollow, brittle thread that barely carries across the room. She slowly lifts her tear-streaked face, her blue eyes wide, unfocused, and shattered as she looks up at you. "If you are... if you possess the power to rewrite creation itself... why would a God act like this? Why a twisted, hedonistic fortress? Why come down from the heavens just to **** us? Why us?"

You let out a low, smooth chuckle, stepping away from the window. The heavy click of your boots makes both Weiss and Blake flinch in unison.

"A God can act however he pleases," you say, your voice dropping to a low, melodic purr. "But if you want the practical answer, it is quite simple. I am building a new world order, and I required interesting women—exceptional bloodlines—to carry my seed and birth my demigod children."

You stop at the edge of the lounge, your gaze drifting down to the weeping, catatonic Ruby. "You can principally thank your little leader for your predicament. Her silver-eyed lineage carries a highly specific, exceedingly rare trait that I intend to cultivate. But she wasn't the only prize in the room." You slide your gaze back to Weiss, a slow, dark smile curving your lips. "The Schnee bloodline is a marvel of mortal breeding. A completely hereditary Semblance, perfectly preserved across generations. It is an exquisite canvas. I want my children to inherit it."

Weiss’s breath catches in her throat, a sharp, choked gasp escaping her lips. The realization hits her like a physical blow. She isn't just a captive; she is being viewed as premium genetic livestock. The immense pride she took in her family name, the years of grueling training to master her glyphs—it has all been repositioned as nothing more than an attractive trait for a divine breeding program.

"Depending on how you look at it, Weiss," you murmur, leaning down slightly to hold her trembling gaze, "this could be a glorious blessing, or an eternal curse. The choice of how you enter my pantheon is entirely yours."

You flick your wrist, and a fresh wave of your reality-altering will ripples through the room.

The air before the chaise lounge shimmers, igniting with a vivid, ghostly projection of your throne room. Inside, they see Salem, chained next to your throne. She is blindfolded, rendered deaf with heavy obsidian ear muffs, and penetrated in all three holes by thick, pulsating tentacles. To Team RWBY, Salem is a stranger. They do not know she was the Queen of the Grimm, and would have, in another timeline, been their principal enemy. To them, she is simply a terrifying warning—a nameless, unfortunate mortal who caught the ire of a God and was left to rot in perpetual, horrific agony.

The projection shifts instantly. The white-skinned woman vanishes, replaced by a memory of Raven Branwen—fierce, clad in armor, her red eyes burning with a dangerous, untamed lethal pride. Beside her, a memory of Summer Rose appears, wearing her pristine white cloak, her silver eyes sharp, analytical, and fiercely protective.

"They were defiant when I first claimed them," you state smoothly, waving your hand to dissolve the projection back into nothingness. "They fought. They screamed. They thought their mortal wills could withstand the divine. And because of their stubbornness, I had to peel away their minds, strip away their pride, and turn them into the empty-headed, doting pets you see before you now."

Of the occupants of the parlor, only the two thralls remain unfazed by your display of cosmic might, too stupid to understand what it means. Raven lets out a soft, happy giggle at the mention of her name as she mindlessly sucks hickeys into Yang's inner thigh. Summer, meanwhile, has migrated to Ruby's chest, having torn open her shirt and removed her bra. She sucks greedily on her daughter's nipple while sliding a finger deep into her pussy.

"But if you willingly submit," you continue, your voice shifting to a silky, deeply seductive tone as you look down at Weiss, "the upsides are beyond mortal comprehension. You will not be a broken toy. You will be the immortal lover of a God. You will mother a dynasty of demigods who will rule the new world. And you, Weiss... aristocratic princess that you are... you have the proper breeding for authority. If you perform well, if you please me flawlessly, I might even be inclined to make you my Queen in a few centuries."

With a sharp, metallic clank, the iron ringlets holding Weiss’s chains suddenly snap open. The heavy bonds slide off her pale wrists and ankles, clattering uselessly to the plush carpet.

With another gesture, you call her rapier, Myrtenaster, from storage. It drops straight to the floorboards right beside her feet, its silver hilt gleaming.

The rest of her team remains tightly bound, their terrified, pleading eyes locked onto her as she slowly pushes herself up from her knees, her body trembling violently.

"As a show of your submission, you will crawl over to me right now and give me a blowjob until I cum," you state calmly, gesturing to your exposed, aching length. "Or, you can pick up your sword and try to fight me to escape. Just remember what happens if you lose."

Weiss stands paralyzed for a fraction of a second. She looks at Blake's wide, tearful eyes. She looks at Yang and Ruby, who are completely trapped and helpless under the mindless, hyper-sexualized onslaught of their own mothers. She looks out the window at the perfect, unbroken moon and the terrifying word written in the stars.

Slowly, deliberately, Weiss lowers herself back to the floor, leaving her weapon untouched. Her knees sink into the plush carpet. With her chin held high, clinging to the last shred of her cold, aristocratic dignity, she begins to crawl across the fabric toward your boots.

"I submit, Master," she whispers, her voice shaking but resolute as she stops at your feet, her blue eyes looking up at your throbbing shaft with a mixture of terror and **** ambition.

She leans forward, opening her lips to take you into her mouth, completely yielding to her new God as the rest of her team watches in broken, silent despair.