🩸💪🏻 Introducing Varka: Futa Domination in Ul’dah Prison (Story)

📌 NOTE: Set in Final Fantasy XIV’s Marasaja Pit, this story weaves Ul’dah’s brutal lore into a kinky BDSM saga of dominance, submission, and jealousy, expanding the Futa/Femboy dynamic from "Nascentes's Story", and giving context to the up-coming Nascentes Comic "Silk & Stone".

📄 NEXT CHAPTER: Chapter 02 ⋆

🌸 🏰 Silk & Stone: A Nascentes Story

🦬 ⚒️ Chapter 1: The Spark of Envy

WHAM! The Marasaja Pit’s central hall quakes as Varka, a 7’ pale-skinned Roe female, swings a fist like a battering ram, her massive bouffant hairdo—hairsprayed to the heavens, a white storm cloud defying gravity—swaying like a war banner. Her pale eyes blaze, scars glinting under torchlight, a bulky shape under tattered rags hinting at her secret. Nascentes, 7’2” half-Roegadyn, half-Elezen noble-born domme, ducks—SWOOSH—her white-and-orange stripes stretched over silicone orbs, nipples stabbing fabric like daggers. Her black eyebrows arch sharp, heterochromatic eyes—pink and violet—burning like aether, pointed Elezen ears twitching under sweat-slick hair. Her spider tattoo flexes as Varka’s punch grazes air, sandstone walls shuddering. Inmates—Hyur with pockmarked faces, Lalafell with cruel smirks, Miqo’te with twitching tails—crowd the iron bars, betting gil scraps, their cheers a guttural roar. CRACK! Nascentes slams a knee to Varka’s gut—OOF—stone trembling, torchlight dancing on her chiseled frame. Varka snarls, bouffant tilting, and charges—THUD—her shoulder hitting stone as Nascentes spins free, half-Elezen grace a blade in Ul’dah’s gritty arena.

Days ago, this hall burned with Nascentes’ reign. She fucked Cillian, her silver-haired sissy pet, raw before these inmates. His black heels clicked, silver hair a mess, pink chastity cage glinting as she pinned him—THUD—her equine cock ("Little Lady" ), thick as a blacksmith’s forearm, thrusting deep, SLICK-SLICK, its snake tattoo gleaming. Cum flooded out, pooling like a desert spring, as inmates roared—

“F⋆g,” “Sissy Cunt”

—then hushed, cocks hard, awed. Varka stood among them, smuggled into the men’s wing, her bouffant a pale crown, pale eyes seething. She’d slipped past Immortal Flames guards, strapon hidden, posing as a male—maybe hunting a mark, maybe craving the Pit’s brutal power. Nascentes’ natural cock, her noble grace, mocked Varka’s crude strapon, a toy against her primal might. That SLICK of flesh, that flood of cum, was everything Varka’s strength couldn’t steal. She burned to break this queen, mistaking her elegance for weakness.

Today, Nascentes was fetching gruel for herself and Cillian, holed up in their cell—her staged Sapphire Avenue brawl landed her here to claim him, a whispered truth among inmates. Her boots CLACKED down the corridor, dented tin tray in hand, inmates parting like sand before a sirocco. Varka lunged from the shadows, bouffant towering, voice a snarl:

“Fancy bitch, you’re no queen.”

The tray hit the stone—CLANG—gruel splattering like blood. Varka swung—WHAM—but Nascentes danced, grapples honed in Ul’dah’s high halls. Her half-Roegadyn bulk coiled, half-Elezen agility weaving. Varka’s fist grazed air, sweat beading pale skin, bouffant swaying like a battle standard. Nascentes struck—SMACK—a palm to Varka’s chest, her spider tattoo pulsing, then tore at her rags—RIP—revealing the strapon, a leather mockery strapped to her hips. Inmates gasped, then roared—

“She’s a woman!” “Kill the fraud!”

Hyur bared teeth, Lalafell hissed, Miqo’te unsheathed claws. Nascentes yanked the strapon free—SNAP—holding it aloft, laughing.

“This your crown, slut?”

she taunted, tossing it—CLUNK. Varka’s pale eyes widened, bouffant tilting, as inmates surged, fists raised, murder in their eyes. Nascentes stepped forward, motherly purr silencing them:

“She’s mine to break.”

She dragged Varka—SCRAPE-SCRAPE—past their rage, to her cell.

The 10-by-10 sandstone box was Nascentes’ altar—creaking cot with cum-stained sheets, a cracked wall hiding ceruleum oil, torchlight flickering on her spider tattoo. Cillian cowered on the cot, silver hair a damp veil, pink chastity cage glinting, black heels tucked beneath the sheets like guilty secrets. His blue eyes flared as Nascentes dumped Varka with a THUD on the stone, her bouffant splaying like a fallen star.

“Where’s my food?”

he whined, voice sharp, a bitchy edge honed by his sissy role, fingers twisting the sheet in a petulant knot. Nascentes turned, her equine cock swaying like a scepter, motherly purr soft but unyielding. He shrank, heels scooting under the cot like a scolded pup, pout deepening.

“Who’s this woman?”

he snapped, jealousy searing like a brand—another female, muscular, her white hair a rival crown, sprawled in their cell. His heart raced, nails digging into the sheet; he was Nascentes’ petal, her only bloom, or so he thought. This giantess could steal his chains, his place at her side.

“She’s Varka,”

Nascentes purred, voice a velvet lash, stepping over the fallen Roe.

“A sneaking slut who thought her fake cock could match my little lady.”

Cillian’s lips pursed,

“You don’t need her—I’m your petal!”

His whine cracked, bitchy venom spilling, jealousy a hot pulse.

“She’s nothing!”

he spat, blue eyes darting to Varka’s bouffant, its hairspray sheen mocking his silver locks. Nascentes tilted her head, her snake tattoo glinting, a silent whip, and Cillian wilted, crawling to the cot’s edge, head low—her presence snapped him to his place.

“Watch, petal,”

she cooed, nurturing yet iron, turning to Varka, who glared up, pale skin flushed, pride crumbling under the weight of inmate hatred outside.

Nascentes loomed, her half-Roegadyn bulk a fortress, half-Elezen grace a serpent’s coil. She whipped out her equine cock—SLAP—smacking Varka’s face with a THWACK, the echo bouncing off sandstone, pale skin blooming red. Varka’s bouffant tilted, hairspray cracking, her pale eyes blazing but powerless. Nascentes laughed, a deep, mocking rumble, and pressed her heavy balls to Varka’s nose—SQUISH—musk flooding her senses, torchlight glinting on the snake tattoo.

“Taste your defeat, fraud,”

she taunted, grinding slow, Varka’s muffled grunt mixing rage and shame. Inmates outside snarled—

“Kill her!”

—but Nascentes’ motherly glare silenced them, her protection Varka’s only shield. Cillian watched, jealousy a knot in his gut, chastity cage tight, hating Varka’s place under her. Nascentes stepped back, Varka gasping, bouffant askew like a toppled idol.

She reached for the cot, fingers curling around red shibari ropes, their coils gleaming like blood in the torchlight.

“You’ll choke on your envy, slut,”

she growled, voice a velvet blade, her spider tattoo pulsing as she held the ropes high.

“I’ll bind you till you beg for my mercy.”

The cell’s air tightened, torchlight flickering on Varka’s defiant face, Cillian’s jealous stare burning, Nascentes’ shadow swallowing them both—two captives now, under her thumb, safe only in her cruel embrace.

(To Be Continued)...

- Written by Miss Jugg 🖤

···