Monster Breeder
156. To Catch a Sheikh, Part 2 (Spindle, R-18)

She gradually returned to herself while a crazily spinning world slowed to a halt.

She was Spindle, an Arcane-Ranked Second-Tier Webling. She was on a mission to kill the Goblin Sheikh and retrieve Vermillion’s Opal. The Wicked Weaver had resumed chittering in her mind since her medically-induced treatment, but she felt refreshed. Healed. The weight of its manipulations no longer seemed so impossible to defy, her morale further bolstered that she’d done so before and could do so again.

She’d previously felt her reserves of willpower dwindling over time and came here today seeking reprieve. Spindle had imagined that releasing the demon upon deserving prey would relieve the ‘pressure’ of its death-drive like steam escaping from a kettle. But now she knew in her gut such indulgence would be more akin to a dam bursting, resulting in a flooded river. What she needed was to be tended to, her spirit restored, her heart cared for, and her body nursed with affection. Delilah had done all those things for Spindle without needing to be asked. That, and the Mothra's psychoactive vapor breath had temporarily suppressed Wicked one.

Perhaps Olindia’s magic could’ve helped, but they hadn’t thought to try that angle. Spindle could admit in retrospect that she had been fooled by her own success to a degree. Defeating a demon, even temporarily, had been such an ego boost that it made succumbing seem a distant threat. A devious, devilish demonic trap, indeed, to keep her from seeking help until it was too late. How long would she have held out from total corruption on her own? A day, or more? …Less?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Delilah asked while petting Spindle’s hair and gently scratching her scalp with chitinous claws. It felt incredible. The spider girl lay with her head in the Mothra's lap, flexible torso twisted to accommodate her arachnoid abdomen standing in a natural stance with her legs balanced on the webbing. When she didn’t answer, the moth girl continued, “Sorry, it’s just an old saying that doesn’t mean anything. Ahem. So, am I about to be your next meal? Or can you find it in your heart to let me go? Although, I guess, if you’re Wicked, you may wish to Corrupt me.”

The Mothra’s eyes had returned to chartreuse and expressed, or rather lacked, any fear, concern, or urgency, the same as before.

Spindle reluctantly rose from the soft bed of the Delilah's thighs to reach her full height, her mind clear. “She’ll remind you that Corruption would go against her Mistress’s commandment.”

“Oh, yeah. You did mention something about that, and this Vermillion character.”

The spider girl tilted her head in curiosity, “You could’ve slit her throat while she was inebriated.”

Delilah glanced at her chitinous claws, fingers coated in exoskeleton, flexed them, and then shrugged. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.” This woman! “It makes sense, though. Probably, I fell onto this path because I haven’t killed anyone. That, and this weird plant I ate one time. Couldn’t move for days! Just lay there, feeling the universe…” It took her a full minute to resume after trailing off, during which Spindle confirmed by ear the Sweet Bees weren’t in distress, still playing nearby. “But I was like this when I came-to, more or less. Things made sense from then on, but my instincts changed, and I sort of lost interest in things like ‘defending myself.’ What does it matter in the grand scheme, you know?

“Also, it seemed like you were having a really good trip, and I didn’t want to spoil that. I think that’s part of my nature too, now. Making sure you didn’t have a bad trip felt way more important to me at the time than anything that affected my survival. We’re all just clinging to a rock that’s flying through space at a million, million miles an hour, after all. So, W-er, Miss Spindle, you do what you gotta do. I had a very nice time with you, if that makes a difference.”

She began to weave, her decision already made. “Spindle intends to keep you. For herself, mostly, but also as a present for Vermillion.” Delilah’s gaze was transfixed by the Dark Magic threads twined between her fingers. “You shall be her first Maid of Honor.”

In no more than a couple of minutes, Spindle made her new right-hand maid a dress of glowing purple threadwork. She wove it directly onto the subject with her magic. It was a frilly thing with ruffles, lace, a bonnet, a half-apron, stockings, and garters. It complemented the fluffy ruff of the moth girl’s neck fur and chitinous extremities while leaving windows for those glowing portholes.

Delilah looked like a proper maid, now. 

Upon the duo’s return from seclusion, the Sweet Bees were infatuated with her. Their new moth girl toy didn’t fuss or struggle, no matter how they cheerily buzzed about or pulled down her top to get at her breasts for a snack. (The Mothra didn't object, though the experience surprised her.) Spindel wouldn’t allow Delilah to give them a full dose of that curious vapor, of course, but simply being around the moth girl and sampling that spiced milk seemed to have a soporific effect. Perfect.

Spindle wove a chamber of webbing around the lot of them, both to contain the Sweet Bees with their plaything and to keep wandering predators out. Then she extended tripwires for a hundred meters down the cavern hall in both directions. She’d know if anything approached and have precious seconds to respond.

Next on her agenda was finding that Lamia, Vermilion's Opal. Spindel didn’t have a Dire Wolf’s Nose or a Burrower’s Tremor Sense, which meant she’d have to do things the hard way.

She found tracks in the endless maze of caves and followed them with her Darkling Sight until eventually spotting the orange radiance of a torch. The harsh firelight spoiled her night vision of the dim natural corridors, but she could see the Sand Goblin just fine regardless.  

The dusty-grey-skinned Goblinoid wore long robes to protect against the desert sun and white cloth wrappings to conceal her face, leaving only the eyes, pointed nose, and long, flat ears poking through. At her side lay a bone knife tucked into her rope belt.

For Spindle, the terrain and flexibility of her innate and magical abilities amounted to an insurmountable gap that made the encounter trivial. She climbed up the cavern wall to the ceiling, wove a net of Dark Magic threads, and dropped it on the unsuspecting patrol guard, followed by landing on said Sand Goblin herself.

She grabbed either of the Goblin’s arms with her lower pair of hands, her upper left hand covering her victim’s mouth with a cloth gag as Spindle sank her fangs into the surprised woman’s neck. They struggled for a moment, arms wrestling for control, the Goblin’s muffled shouts of alarm unable to travel far due to the gag, but Spindle had the advantage from the start and the Webling injected more Jumper venom into her victim every second. The Wicked one chittered and begged for pain and suffering as always, but was easy to ignore with her mind refreshed.

Soon, the sounds coming from the gag were of a different sort. The Sand Gobliness’s limbs struggled to reach for her sex, and she moaned whenever Spindle brushed a sensitive region. The Webling’s free hand slid down, down, over bound breasts and a tight tummy, then up, up the inside of the Goblin’s robe along a bandage-wrapped thigh.

“Where was the Lamia last spotted?” Spindle asked her prisoner.

“Mmm, S’Gobbo… ngh!”

Spindle’s nimble fingers found an uncovered quim, slick labial lips, and a tiny pearl of a clit. Then the Sand Gobliness was putty in her hands. She stroked slowly, unhurriedly, with all the patience in the world to mercilessly torture her prey. The Gobliness arched her spine in Spindle’s grip, thrusting in time with her strokes to push her fingers harder against that soft vulva. It was a silent begging for release that Spindle cruelly denied at the last moment.

She had all the time in the world to unravel the riddles on her mind and all the necessary tools to dissect the mystery of this place.

“P-pl-please!” the Sand Goblin begged and cried for completion while bucking into the Webling’s fingers, hands still grasping for a weapon despite the woman’s erotic elation.

Instead of complying, Spindle stripped the helpless Sand Goblin’s vestments and strung her up by the ankles to dangle there tantalizingly from the ceiling like a fresh kill. Except the cloth wrappings wouldn’t come loose. They seemed grafted onto the Gobliness’s very flesh. Hmm. No matter, Spindle could still access all the important naughty bits, including nipples, ass, and mouth.

The Webling was a monster, but not a monster, and gave her prey a little service. She grabbed the Sand Gobliness by the head and firmly pressed the woman’s face against her sex, demanding her victim return the favor as she dipped forward between the Goblin’s legs. Spindle savored the sour tang of old sweat and the musky, unwashed flavor of wet Goblin pussy as she lapped at the girl’s slit. She teased the gushing hole of the woman’s entrance, suckled and bit at the labial folds, nuzzled into the mons, and flicked at the clit with her tongue.

The Sand Gobliness clumsily mouthed at Spindle’s cunt (a pleasant enough sensation of hot, moist kisses on her pussy) before cumming violently on the Webling’s expectant lips.

“Ah! Uhhnnn, ahhnnn~!”

Fragrant juices with a heavy, earthy flavor splashed onto Spindle’s tongue that she swallowed without reservation. She wetted a digit in the Gobliness’s dripping tunnel which she then used to prepare the nearby pucker for penetration, swirling circles around the woman’s backdoor.

“Where was the Lamia last spotted?”

“I… I can’t… S’Gobbo… ahhhn!”

Her other hands tied threads to her victim’s wrists to hoist the Sand Goblin into a suspended prone position that would give Spindle easy access to all the woman’s holes and erogenous zones. She took her time to study the Sand Gobliness with her Profane Sight all the while.

Something malicious tugged at her prey despite the Goblin being in the throes of her Jumper Aphrodisiac Venom. She noticed it in how the Sand Goblin’s awareness continued to return to the fallen bone knife no matter how much she pleasured the woman. While the Gobliness was absorbed with Spindle’s ministrations, shocked and enthralled as Spindle wove a tapestry of knots and ropes in the traditional bondage forms of her people, an external force plucked at the woman’s mind. The Sand Goblin couldn’t answer the question.

Spindle bit the Gobliness’s mons to directly apply her special venom to her victim’s most sensitive region until she could make the woman climax from cunt slaps alone. She fucked the Sand Goblin’s rosebud with her ovipositor, making the girl cum multiple times from anal penetration. She employed deepthroat breath-play, envenomated the woman’s nipples and pinched them relentlessly for a nipple-gasm, even gradually working up the Gobliness’s holes until she could fit her fist inside and slip the woman on like an evening glove.

Still, the esoteric nature of that external force evaded her.

Eventually, Spindle decided a second Sand Goblin might shed light on the problem. Things went about the same for the next, a male this time, as the first. The third, fourth, and fifth all refused to answer while summoning knives to attack her unless their hands were bound. It would’ve been impossible to unravel the riddle if not for the ample amount of time she was afforded alongside free access to test subjects.

It took her hours of sadomasochistic play, a dozen Sand Goblins, multiple positions of extreme Shibari, endless orgasms, and lots of teasing, but Spindle finally found the ‘thread.’ A thin line of magical sympathy connected the Sand Goblins to the Shiekh that allowed him to prevent any betrayals of confidence, demand loyalty in word and deed, and force the Goblins to seek Spindle’s destruction no matter what pleasure she applied. Through countless tests and magical prodding from every conceivable angle, Spindle at last grasped hold of that thread.

“Got you~”