Wednesday Addams and Enid finally relent during a stormy night at Nevermore as Wednesday inflicts a sexual awakening on the naive Enid. This was just a bit of fun but there may be more parts if people like it.
In the forsaken bowels of Nevermore Academy’s abandoned crypt wing, where the air hung heavy with the musty rot of forgotten graves and the distant drip of water echoed like the slow bleed of a fresh wound, Wednesday Addams lurked in the shadows like a venomous spider awaiting its prey. The chamber was a sepulchre of depravity, a mausoleum of Victorian decay: iron chains dangling from the vaulted ceiling, flickering torches casting elongated shadows that danced like tormented souls, and a massive stone altar repurposed as a bed, shrouded in black lace like a funeral veil, and walls adorned with portraits of stern ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow every sinful twitch, stained with the ghosts of ancient rituals.
Wednesday, with her porcelain skin as pale as a fresh grave, her raven-black hair in tight, severe pigtails that framed a face of exquisite malice, exuded an aura of delicious menace. Her obsidian eyes gleamed with the promise of exquisite torment, lips painted the colour of congealed blood, and her lithe, predatory frame was clad in a black sweater and skirt of midnight silk that clung to her like a second skin, accentuating the subtle curves she wielded like weapons, hinting at the lean strength beneath, honed by years of fencing and an obsessive mastery of the cello. Those fingers, calloused and precise, could extract mournful screams from strings or, as she’d discovered in her darkest fantasies, unravel a soul with equal finesse. She was a virgin, untouched by any hand but her own, yet her mind was a labyrinth of twisted desires, each more exquisite than the last.
Enid Sinclair, her roommate and antithesis, the unwitting lamb to Wednesday’s slaughter, was a profane intrusion of light in this abyss. Her multicoloured hair cascaded in chaotic waves, framing a face too vibrant, too fragile—blue eyes wide with innocent terror, full lips trembling in anticipation of the unknown. Her curvaceous body, clad in a sheer pink nightie that mocked modesty, heaved with every breath: heavy breasts straining the lace, nipples visible as hardened peaks begging for torment, hips flaring into an ass that invited bruising grips. Enid’s virginity was a fragile veil, her dreams plagued by Wednesday’s cold spectre, yet she remained blissfully ignorant of the abyss yawning before her. The storm outside howled like the damned, lightning illuminating the crypt in strobes that revealed the hunger in Wednesday’s gaze.
They were utterly alone, the academy emptied like a plague-ravaged tomb. A storm raged outside, thunder rattling the manor’s bones, the air thick with the scent of rain and something far more primal. Wednesday sat at her desk, fingers idly tracing the edge of a dagger, her cello abandoned in the corner after a session that left her vibrating with unspent energy. Enid, sprawled on her bed, was scrolling on her phone, the glow illuminating her flushed cheeks, knees drawn up, her nightie riding high to expose the pale vulnerability of her thighs.
“Your incessant optimism is a blight upon this hallowed decay,” Wednesday intoned, her voice a silken noose, laced with the Addams lineage of morbid elegance. “You flutter about like a moth to the flame of its own immolation. Cease, Enid, or I shall pin your wings and watch you burn slowly.”
Enid’s laugh was bright, nervous, her eyes flicking to Wednesday with a mix of defiance and curiosity. “Oh, come on, Wednesday. It’s just a storm. We could, like, do something normal like watch a movie or—oh! Paint our nails black to match your soul.” She wiggled her fingers, already tipped with glittery pink polish, and she shifted, the movement causing her nightie to slip, baring one breast partially—the nipple a rosy invitation in the torchlight.
Wednesday’s gaze sharpened, pinning Enid like a specimen under glass. She rose, movements deliberate, a predator closing in. “Paint your nails? How quaintly pedestrian. I’d rather paint you with something far more... permanent.” She closed the distance in a heartbeat, her hand seizing Enid’s wrist, pulling her up until their bodies were inches apart. Enid’s breath hitched, her pulse hammering under Wednesday’s grip, her eyes wide with a dawning realisation of the danger—and allure—she’d provoked.
“W-Wednesday...” Enid whispered, but the protest melted into a moan as Wednesday’s mouth claimed hers in a kiss of savage dominance—teeth nipping at lips until blood mingled with saliva, tongues warring in a dance of conquest. Wednesday tasted the saccharine terror on Enid’s breath, her free hand ripping the nightie away with a tear that echoed like ripping flesh, exposing Enid’s voluptuous nudity: breasts heaving, nipples erect and aching, her virgin pussy a slick, pink slit framed by damp curls, already betraying her with rivulets of arousal trickling down her thighs.
“You will submit to the inevitable,” Wednesday murmured against her lips, her voice a dark promise. “Your innocence is a candle, Enid, and I intend to snuff it out.” She pushed Enid back onto the bed, the mattress creaking under their weight. Wednesday’s fingers—those cello-honed instruments of precision—explored Enid’s voluptuous form. “You reek of untouched purity,” Wednesday growled, breaking the kiss to trail her teeth down Enid’s neck, biting hard enough to leave marks like love letters from the grave. “A virgin sacrifice, ripe for desecration. Your body quivers for defilement—beg me to carve your innocence away. How utterly predictable.”
Wednesday shed her own clothes with clinical efficiency, revealing her lean, pale frame—small, firm breasts with dark, erect nipples, a taut stomach, and a shaved mound slick with her own need. Enid stared, transfixed, her cheeks flushing deeper as Wednesday straddled her thighs, pinning her in place. She forced Enid’s legs apart, chains from the ceiling clinking as she bound her wrists above her head, the metal biting into skin. “You will be my instrument of torment,” Wednesday declared, her cello-forged fingers descending like talons.
“I’ve... never done this,” Enid whispered, her voice trembling but laced with hunger. “But I want it to be you, Wednesday. I want you to... to ruin me.”
Wednesday’s smirk was pure malice. “Ruin you? Oh, Enid, I’ll compose a requiem with your screams.” Her fingers, those masterful digits that could pluck a cello string to weeping, trailed down Enid’s body, pausing to pinch a nipple until Enid whimpered, her back arching. The pain was a spark, igniting something deeper, and Wednesday revelled in it. She slid lower, parting Enid’s thighs with a roughness that made the blonde gasp, exposing her virgin pussy—pink, swollen, and dripping.
She teased Enid’s folds first, nails scraping lightly over the swollen lips, drawing beads of blood-tinged arousal. Enid whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily. “Please... more.”
“Look at you,” Wednesday purred, her fingers gliding through the slick folds, teasing the entrance without breaching it. “A sacrificial lamb, begging for the blade. Beg me properly, Enid.”
“Please,” Enid gasped, hips twitching. “Touch me. Break me. I need you.”
With a predatory snarl, Wednesday plunged two fingers inside Enid’s tight, virgin heat, her cello-trained precision finding that sensitive ridge instantly.
Enid screamed, her tight walls spasming around the invasion, the stretch a burning ecstasy that tore through her, so tight it was almost painful. Wednesday pumped relentlessly, her thumb grinding Enid’s clit like crushing a pearl underfoot, the wet, obscene squelches mingling with Enid’s sobs. “Feel the exquisite agony, Enid. Your purity shatters like glass under my touch—let the shards pierce your soul.”
“You’re mine to dismantle,” Wednesday hissed, adding a third finger, stretching Enid’s untouched passage until she sobbed with pleasure-pain. “Feel the agony of awakening, Enid. Let it consume you.” She leaned down, capturing a nipple in her mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive bud while her fingers thrust deeper, faster, orchestrating a crescendo of torment. Enid’s body convulsed, orgasms ripping through her in rapid succession—first a shuddering release, then a violent squirt that soaked Wednesday’s arm, her cries echoing off the crypt walls like the wails of the damned. Wednesday didn’t relent, her fingers relentless, drawing out every shudder until Enid was a trembling wreck. Only then did she withdraw, licking her fingers clean with a moan, savouring the virgin’s essence. “Deliciously corrupt,” she murmured, smearing the remaining slickness across Enid’s lips. “Taste your fall.”
Wednesday withdrew, her hand dripping, and forced her fingers into Enid’s mouth. “Savour your defilement, you wretched light.” Enid sucked greedily, tasting her own blood and cum, eyes glazed with submission.
“You’re a vessel for my shadows,” Wednesday snarled, her own pussy throbbing with need.
Enid, panting, reached for Wednesday, her hands trembling. “Your turn, Wednesday? I... I don’t know how, but I want to try.”
Wednesday’s laugh was a low, sinister thing. “You’ll learn, or I’ll carve the lesson into you.” She grabbed Enid’s hand, guiding it to her core, slick and aching, quickly taking control, using Enid’s fingers as extensions of her own, plunging them into her tight, virgin heat. Yet she soon replaced them with her own masterful digits, fingering herself while hovering over Enid’s face, lowering herself until Enid’s lips brushed her clit. “Worship me, you radiant fool.”
Enid’s tongue was clumsy but eager, lapping at Wednesday’s folds, tasting the sharp tang of her arousal. Wednesday ground down, riding her face while her fingers worked her own pussy, hitting every nerve with surgical precision. The dual assault—Enid’s mouth and her own expert touch—pushed her to the edge.
The climax hit Wednesday like a lightning strike, her body arching as she flooded Enid’s face, her body shuddering as she flooded Enid’s mouth with her virgin nectar, a guttural moan escaping her lips—a sound akin to the cello's deepest lament. “Drown in my darkness!” she commanded, smearing the mess across Enid’s skin, her juices flooding Enid’s mouth, forcing her to swallow or choke
Unsated, Wednesday flipped Enid onto her stomach, spreading her delicate ass cheeks to reveal her tight, pink sphincter. “No part of you will remain sacred,” she declared, a finger circling Enid’s puckered hole, slick with her own juices, before thrusting in—slow, invasive, the cello strength allowing deep penetration. Enid howled, the dual burn of her stretched pussy and ass overwhelming. Wednesday added fingers to both orifices, fucking both holes in a merciless rhythm that drove Enid to another shattering climax —a symphony of violation that had Enid sobbing in pleasure. "This is ecstasy wrapped in shadows," Wednesday hissed, her own arousal building anew as she watched Lila writhe. Enid’s cries were muffled in the pillow, Wednesday’s free hand spanking Enid’s ass until it glowed red, welts rising like ritual markings.
They collapsed into a frenzy of scissoring, pussies grinding together in a slick, frantic, brutal grind, clits abrading like sparks on flint, blood and cum mixing in a profane lubricant. Multiple orgasms tore through them, bodies slick and marked, the room reeking of their shared depravity and surrender.
As the storm faded to a distant rumble, they collapsed, entwined in the ruined sheets. Wednesday’s fingers traced possessive bruises on Enid’s skin like trophies, her voice a dark caress. “You’ve been initiated into the Addams legacy of exquisite suffering. There’s no returning to your saccharine light. There’s no salvation from this exquisite hell.”
Enid, broken and reborn, whispered against her skin, “Then let me burn forever in your flames.”