#CODE;ENGLISH;FRENCH;GERMAN;;SPANISH;;;;;;;;;x
ggsm_tentacle_companion;Kept Mercy;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsm_tentacle_companion_desc;A Kept Mercy has bonded itself to this woman. It stands about as tall as she does: a pale, warm torso, a dark clever mouth, and a sheaf of slick tapering limbs. The thickest are the girth of a forearm and ridged on the underside. The thinner ones are as precise as fingers. At rest it shares a bench or a bed. In use those limbs open her, fill her, hold her wrists, and find her clit with the same patience. Catholics who know the Houses call the bond a strange mercy. Other faiths call it proof the sisters have gone too far. It remains until death or her leaving of the Order.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsm_bond_tentacle_companion;Seek a Kept Mercy;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsm_bond_tentacle_companion_desc;Go down to the hidden cistern where the Order keeps its Mercies and see whether one chooses you. If it accepts the bond, it remains for life, provided you remain a sister.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsm_bond_tentacle_companion_tooltip;A Kept Mercy in the hidden pools may choose you as its companion.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.1.desc;The cistern under the House is hotter than any chapel. Lamps shake on rose-red water. The sisters offer no leash. A Kept Mercy is not bought. It chooses.\n\nThe waterline breaks. Pale limbs first, each the thickness of a forearm, undersides faintly ridged, slick as oiled skin. Then a torso no broader than a man's, a dark mouth, eyes that find you and stay. One limb closes around your wrist. Another finds your waist, slides under the harness, and lifts until your boots leave the stone. A thinner end traces the open crotch strap, not entering, only learning the heat there.\n\nIt does not crush you. It holds you the way a strong lover holds someone already claimed. A senior sister exhales. "That Mercy is yours. Mind the doorframes. And the bed.";;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.1.a;Then it comes home with me;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.1.b;I am not ready;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.21.desc;You have been carrying the day badly, and Mercy has noticed. It does not ask. It comes onto the bed already warm from the heat it keeps, coils around your ribs, and covers you until there is no argument left in your spine.\n\nA thinner limb combs your hair. The rest is simply weight: a chest against your back, a slick mouth at the nape of your neck, a heavy coil over your hips pinning you under a body that could hold a door shut and has chosen instead to make you sleep. No petitioners. No doctrine. Only the dark, the pressure, and a gift that will not let you keep performing strength you no longer have.\n\nIt waits until your breathing slows. Then it waits longer, as if rest were a rite and Mercy the only sister left on duty.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.21.a;All right. I will rest;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.22.desc;It does not leave when the first shaking stops. The coils stay where they are, a living blanket the size of a sleeper, and the thinner ones keep the small work going: temple, nape, the tight place under your ribs where the day still lives. Its mouth opens against your shoulder and does not bite. Heat soaks the sheets.\n\nIf you try to rise, it waits you out. If you weep, it only warms. Sleep comes in pieces. Each time you surface, Mercy is still there, breathing against your spine like a second night.\n\nBy the last sinking you have stopped performing recovery. That was the point. The House can have you in the morning. This hour belongs to weight, heat, and a mercy that does not require speech.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.22.a;Keep me here until it passes;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.23.desc;Mercy has decided that [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] belongs to the same household it does. The first approach is careful. Most of it stays coiled in the chair so as not to crowd the hearth. One pale limb is offered like a hand, the underside warm and faintly ridged.\n\n[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] touches it. Mercy rumbles, low and pleased, and does not take more than that. Whatever lives behind those dark eyes understands a rule the Order already teaches: affection is not a ration. Shared, it does not become less.\n\nLater it settles near both of you, a living bulk at the edge of the firelight, as if kinship were a scent it had learned to keep.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.23.a;It understands family better than court;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.24.desc;[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] no longer pretends the bed is only for two. Tonight Mercy takes its third of the mattress, one coil around your waist, another around [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim], the rest of it tucked along your backs like a sleeper who runs warm and slightly damp.\n\nThere is no contest in it. It seems content that someone you love has become someone it may trust. You fall toward sleep in the press of sheets, skin, and a pale body that makes the bed feel finished instead of crowded.\n\nWhen one of you shifts, it tightens just enough to say it noticed, then loosens again. Possession, in its language, is only another word for staying.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.24.a;There is room enough;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.25.desc;[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] wakes first and finds a coil already draped across both of you, as casual as a sheet and as immovable as a cat that has decided the bed is its office. Mercy rumbles when a hand is laid on it, then makes room without surrendering its place.\n\nThere is talk, low and half-asleep. It does not join it. It only adjusts: one limb at your hip, one at [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis], the rest of it a dark, breathing line against the wall. A thinner end traces idle circles at the small of your back, not hunting, only keeping count.\n\nYou doze again in a tangle of three kinds of warmth. In the morning Mercy will have to be asked to move. It will pretend not to understand.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.25.a;Let it stay until dawn;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.26.desc;[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] is mid-sentence on House discipline when a coil the thickness of [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] wrist slides across the table and steals the ribbon from [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] sleeve. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] stares. You stare. Mercy occupies the bench behind you and looks insufferably pleased with its tiny prize, dark mouth faintly open as if this were liturgy.\n\n[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] laughs until [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHe] has to sit down, then spends a quarter hour teaching it to give things back. The lesson mostly takes. The ribbon does not.\n\nBy the time the talk returns to rule and rank, Mercy has claimed a second trophy: [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] composure, offered freely and not returned either.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.26.a;The Order has a thief now;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.27.desc;[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] is still laughing when Mercy offers the ribbon back - almost. It holds the silk just out of reach, then sets it in [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] hair with a care so grave it becomes another joke.\n\nThe two of you give up the lesson. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] sits against its side as if it were a settle. You take the other shoulder. For a while the Order is only this: talk, stolen cloth, and a Kept Mercy large enough to make a private room out of a bench.\n\nWhen [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHe] finally rises, it lets [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim] go and keeps a fold of [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] sleeve a moment longer, as if sisters, like ribbons, were things it preferred not to return in full.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.27.a;Keep the ribbon. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] will survive;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.28.desc;You kneel expecting it to sprawl. Instead Mercy settles in the stall beside you, one coil quiet around your hand, shoulders hunched in a fair imitation of prayer, and goes still when you bow your head.\n\nIt does not tug. It does not hunt for skin. When the office ends it is still there, a living heat in the dark wood, mouth closed, eyes half-lidded, as if it understood the shape of the hour even if it understood none of the words.\n\nA younger sister glances once from the nave and looks away again. Some mercies are easier to accept if you do not ask what they are.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.28.a;Then it may stay;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.29.desc;The chapel empties. Mercy does not. It stays in the stall until the last lamp is a small thing against its pale hide, and the coil around your hand tightens once, like an amen it invented for itself.\n\nYou remain on your knees longer than the office requires. Heat soaks the wood. Somewhere in that living dark a slow pulse answers your own. It is not worship. It is not mockery. It is companionship that has learned the shape of silence and decided silence is a place it may occupy.\n\nWhen you stand, it rises with you, human-tall and close as a shadow, and leaves the chapel looking briefly ordinary again.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.29.a;Walk me back in the dark;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.30.desc;Your mantle is gone. You find it halfway across the chamber, not worn as a nest - that would be too small a joke - but wound around Mercy like a cloak it has decided it looks better in than you do.\n\n[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] sees you standing there in the harness only, rings and open strap and all, sees Mercy occupying the chair in stolen wool with a look of grave satisfaction, and flees before the laugh escapes. You get the garment back after a long, undignified negotiation. It looks unrepentant. You remain uncovered long enough for the lesson to land.\n\nThe mantle is warm when it is returned, and faintly damp, and folded with a care that would be holy if it were not also smug.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.30.a;You impossible bastard;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.31.desc;[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetTitledFirstName] spends the audience trying not to look at the fact that the chair beside yours is occupied. Mercy has poured itself into a seated shape there, one coil around the armrest, dark eyes attentive, the rest of it a quiet, breathing presence the size of a grown attendant.\n\nIt behaves. No grabbing. No hissing. Only that unnerving attention, and the occasional tightening at your wrist when voices rise. By the end even a skeptical Catholic has understood the important part: it is not chained. It stays because it wants you.\n\nYou dismiss [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim] with Mercy still wearing the chair. Manners, it turns out, can be taught to a gift that loves you.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.31.a;Even a Mercy this size can learn manners;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.32.desc;Studying beside a Kept Mercy should be impossible. Instead a single precise coil holds two pages open while the rest of it shares the bench like a second copyist who happens not to need a stylus. A thinner end keeps your place when you look up.\n\nIt fetches the quill you drop. It only once tries to claim the whole seat. You compromise: one limb around your waist, the bulk of it elsewhere, and the commentary continues. The arrangement is ridiculous, warm, and faster than working alone.\n\nWhen the light fails, it does not leave. The last line is copied with a heavy coil across your lap, as if scholarship were another way of being kept.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.32.a;Fine. Do not drool on the text;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.33.desc;The commentary is finished. Mercy is not. It has decided the bench is a nest and your lap is the correct weight to pin there, stylus and all. Its mouth finds the inside of your wrist and stays, not feeding, only claiming the pulse.\n\nYou bargain again. One more page. Then the book is set aside because a coil has found the nape of your neck and is making a study of its own. The scriptorium becomes a private heat. Ink dries. The House goes on beyond the door as if scholarship were still the point.\n\nIt is not, not entirely. You copy nothing else. You sit in the ridiculous arrangement until the lamps gutter, kept and warm and slightly behind on the work, which the Order will forgive more easily than a cold sister.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.33.a;The page can wait;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.34.desc;Mercy follows you into the chamber and shuts the door with a coil that knows the latch. Then it lifts you, works the harness open with a patience that is not human, and takes you down onto the bed already half-occupied by itself. Pale hide is slick against your thighs. The air smells of rose water and warm skin.\n\nYou are held open against it. One ridged limb fills your mouth until you have to breathe around it. Another seals over a breast, catches the nipple-ring, and pulls until you gasp. The thickest of them rubs the length of your cunt - ridge after ridge against the clit - then pushes in, slow enough that you feel every inch stretch you. It does not stop at a polite depth. It fills you until your belly knows the shape of it and your hands have nowhere to go except on Mercy itself.\n\nIt has no shame. It only knows how to keep a chosen sister stretched, dripping, and shaking. The first climax is not asked for. It arrives hard, and Mercy only settles deeper, pleased to have found the weather in you.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.34.a;Then take what you came for;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.35.desc;It has you on your back again before the aftershock has finished. The thickest limb stays seated in your cunt and begins to move: long wet strokes, ridges dragging your inner walls, a heat that does not tire. A second coil, slicker and narrower, works into your ass until you are full in both places and making a sound you will not repeat in chapel. Smaller ones take your wrists, your other breast, the back of your tongue. A thin end finds your clit and rubs in time with the fucking.\n\nYou try to set the pace and fail in the usual way. Mercy knows the catch in your breath now. Each time you clench down it answers with more of itself, wet and implacable, until you come a second time with your mouth open against its hide and your legs no longer pretending they belong to you.\n\nIt does not withdraw. Come and oil slick the sheets. The night is still long, and a Kept Mercy is still of the opinion that a chosen sister should be kept shaking.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.35.a;Do not stop;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.36.desc;When it finally eases out of you the emptiness is almost a sound. You are set down on the wreck of the bed, slick to the knees, marked with pale rings where the coils held, cunt still open from the thickness of it. Come and cistern-heat smear the inside of your thighs.\n\nMercy does not leave the room. It coils around you the way a lover does after the work is done: one heavy limb across your hips, another combing the sweat from your hair, its mouth open on your breast as if aftercare were also a claim. A thinner end stays loosely at your cunt, not taking, only reminding you what it just did.\n\nYou sleep against a body that still tastes of you, already stirring again in the dark, as if aftermath were only the hour between one claiming and the next. In the morning you will walk like a woman who has been thoroughly kept. Tonight you do not have to walk at all.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.36.a;Stay. I am not done being held;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.37.desc;You and [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] expected a closed door. Mercy expected to be invited through it. It takes the open side of the bed, draws both of you in, and finds skin with cheerful certainty: a thick coil rubbing between your legs until you are wet enough to take it, another doing the same to [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim], a slick mouth at the nearest throat.\n\nThe laugh you meant to give becomes a sound with no joke left in it. Mercy pins you face to face, pushes into you first, then into [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim], and keeps both of you filled while thinner limbs stroke what they cannot occupy. You feel [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim] tighten when Mercy thrusts. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] feels you do the same.\n\nOnce welcomed, it treats the night the way the Order treats charity: more does not mean less. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName]'s mouth finds yours because there is nowhere else to put a prayer.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.37.a;Apparently we are not sleeping yet;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.38.desc;Mercy rearranges you and [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] as if bodies were a problem it had already solved. You are held face to face, opened around two thick coils at once, stretched until your cunts are working the same rhythm and there is nowhere to put a hand that is not already occupied. The rest of it binds thighs, fills mouths, and keeps a thin ridged end on each clit so that neither of you can retreat into merely watching.\n\nThe pace it chooses is selfish and generous in the same breath. When you clench, it feeds that tightness into [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim] with a deeper stroke. When [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] breaks, the end at your clit rubs until you follow, coming on it with [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] cry still in your mouth. Come slicks both of you. Mercy does not pause long enough for anyone to pretend this was taking turns.\n\nIt still is not finished. It rarely is.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.38.a;Hold us through it;;;;;;;;;;;;;x

ggsmt.39.desc;Afterward Mercy builds a nest of itself and pours both of you into it. You end up half on [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName], half on a coil as thick as an arm, too used and too wet to make a doctrine out of what just happened. A slower limb stays loosely seated in your cunt, not taking, only reminding. Another does the same for [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim].\n\nThe room smells of sex and lamp-oil and the clean heat the cisterns breed. Pale rings are already coming up on hips and wrists. [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetFirstName] is still twitching when Mercy shifts inside [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHim]. You feel it through [ggsm_tentacle_target.GetHerHis] body.\n\n[ggsm_tentacle_target.GetSheHeCap] laughs once, wrecked and fond, and Mercy rumbles back as if that were thanks enough. Sleep takes the three of you without negotiation. In the morning there will be marks, a ruined bed, and a Kept Mercy that looks perfectly willing to begin the lesson again.;;;;;;;;;;;;;x
ggsmt.39.a;We sleep here. All of us;;;;;;;;;;;;;x