Chapter One: The Life Giver

BRANDON

My twin sister is dead, but she’s not gone. Death is a tragedy in the remote village of Towerhead, but it’s not a rarity. Farming accidents, disease, famine, natural disasters, you name it, it kills people in Towerhead. So, six years ago, when the oxen-pulled carriage ran my ten-year-old sister into the dirt, it was a tragedy, but it wasn’t an anomaly. I had seen this play before; the townspeople rushing to the accident, the driver sitting in shocked silence, the wails and screams of the bereaved, and then the solemn procession that follows. My mother and father were devastated, my friends were consoling and understanding, but I just stood there like an asshole pointing to the bluish-white translucent figure to my left.

“Uh, guys?” I remember saying, “She’s right here.”

At first, people thought it was just my coping mechanism. Hell, I thought that must be the case, but Angela never went away. She talked to me, and I talked to her, and that’s when people thought I was going crazy. I agreed with them, of course; I must be going insane. I tried to pretend she wasn’t there, and I ignored her as best I could, but that didn’t make her go away. Then Angela started feeding me test answers in school, and telling me where to pan for gold in the river, and showing me where the game was when I was hunting. The apparition’s proclamations were so accurate, that I could no longer deny her existence. Angela was dead, but she wasn’t gone.

After my parents tried an exorcism to relieve me of the ‘demon that plagued my soul,’ I stopped trying to prove to people that Angela was real. Towerhead is a lovely town, but it is a small town, fifty miles removed from civilization. Magic is looked down upon, and any anomaly that can’t be explained in ten words or less is either ‘god’s blessing,’ or ‘the devil’s work,’ depending on the situation. So, I kept Angela to myself, but as I grew older, her constant presence in my life started to present new and interesting problems. You see, Angela never leaves me. I mean never. I’m a sixteen-year-old boy, and sometimes, privacy is a concern of mine.

“OK, Angela,” I hissed at her as I sat upright on my bed, “we need to talk about boundaries.”

“I was just curious to see what you were doing,” she said, giving me her big-eyed look of innocence, “it looked like you were wrestling with a squirrel under the sheets.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, giving her a frank look, “a squirrel.”

“A really big squirrel,” Angela smiled coyly, “the kind of squirrel all the women of the town would just love to see.”

“Angela,” I sighed, “get the fuck out of my room.”

“Oh, my mistake,” Angela giggled, “looks like it’s a chipmunk. Not a very impressive one either. Kind of sickly looking, and diseased, and limp-”

“Angela…” I growled.

“You know,” she said, completely unfazed by my irritation, “if you would just listen to my advice, you wouldn’t have to wrestle rodents under your bedsheets every night.”

I sighed, and pulled up my pants beneath the sheets. It was going to be another one of these nights. Sometimes, Angela left me alone, but as we grew older, she became more and more ‘curious’ about my nightly activities. Angela didn’t stay perpetually ten years old, she ‘matured’ at the same rate I did. I put ‘matured’ in quotations, because even though her ethereal body developed, her lack of social interaction with anyone but myself put a damper on her interpersonal development.

“How do I put this nicely…” I said, “your advice with women is fucking terrible.”

“It is not!” Angela huffed, “I feed you great lines, you just deliver them horribly.”

“Trish, are you doing anything tonight? Yeah you are… this guy.” I recited the last line Angela had given me, completing the phrase with a double-thumb-point to myself, just like she had said I should, “That one was a real panty-dropper.”

“I think she liked it.” Angela insisted.

“She laughed, and then slapped me in the face.” I replied frankly.

“She’s just playing hard to get.”

“She’s really taking the game to heart then.”

“Hey!” Angela snapped, “At least a woman touched you this time!”

“That’s not really the kind of connection I’m looking for.” I replied with a wry smile. Angela looked like she was going to say something else for a moment, but then she sighed, and drooped her shoulders.

“OK,” she said sheepishly, “it wasn’t my best line.”

“Hey,” I said, scooting next to her, and letting her rest her weightless head on my shoulder, “I appreciate the effort.”

“Just not the results.” Angela sighed, “You know, I spent hours thinking of that one.”

“I don’t think women really go for pickup lines,” I said, “I think talking to them like actual people might be an interesting tactic.”

“We’ve tried that,” she smiled ruefully up at me, “you’re no good at it.”

“It doesn’t help when you’re hovering over my shoulder, constantly giving me unwarranted advice,” I chuckled, and then changed the pitch of my voice to mimic Angela’s, “Smile, Brandon. Sit up straight! Look her in the eyes, hold the eye contact, hold it… hold it… don’t you fucking blink, you’re killing it! Hold it…Don’t look at her tits! OK, smooth recovery; hey, what’s wrong? You look like you need eye drops, holy shit, they’re red. Oh fuck, she’s getting up; quick, say something clever! Oh god, why did you say that?! Quick, uh… flex your muscles! Sing her a song! Propose to her! And… she’s gone.”

“I do not sound like that!” Angela giggled.

“That was basically a tranion of the last date I went on,” I replied, “and yes, you sound exactly like that.”

“Well, I gave you solid advice,” Angela insisted, “you just didn’t follow it right.”

“Your feminine intuition is a true wonder, Angela,” I said dryly, “clearly, my mind is too weak to comprehend your genius.”

“Clearly.” Angela said, decidedly ignoring my sarcasm and just agreeing with it. I looked over at her and sighed. Angela was beautiful. I could say that objectively, without feeling weird about it. Her face was girlish in features, with big, blue eyes, a pointed nose, flushed cheeks, and a scattering of freckles that accentuate the cuteness of her portrait. Had she been alive, her hair would be golden-blonde, her complexion would be subtly pale, and her figure would be slender, but well-rounded where it counted. Instead, her ethereal form was a light-blue hue, her hair was starkly white, and her form was a fleeting wisp, that barely held together in the wind. It must be hell for her, I thought, to see what she could have become, knowing the world would have been her oyster in life.

“Are you still going to Tera’s house tomorrow?” Angela asked me, her voice soft and fearful.

“What other choice do we have?” I replied, putting my arm around her, even though I couldn’t tell where my touch connected with her outline.

“Go to Drastin,” Angela said, “seek the guidance of a wizard.”

“We’re fifty miles from Drastin,” I said, “and we don’t have the coin for a wizard.”

“And you think Tera can help?” Angela whispered.

“They say she’s ancient,” I replied, “older than Towerhead itself, and she’s cheap.”

“She’s a succubus, Brandon,” Angela said in a hushed voice, “she’s where the old and dying go to spend their last days; if you’re that desperate to get laid, we can just spend the money on a whore.”

“She’ll take my coin as payment,” I said firmly, “she’d be run out of her den if she took unwilling men.”

“You’re ‘Crazy Brandon,’” Angela said softly, “no one would second guess her if she said you came to die with her. A young man like you might be too tempting a prize.”

“We’ll just have to take the risk,” I said, “we can’t keep living like this.”

“‘Living.’” Angela scoffed.

“You know what I mean,” I said, “we need help, or at least, we need answers. Tera can probably give us the latter; what’s happening to us can’t be unique.”

TERA

I smelled the young man before I saw him. I could smell his vigor, his strength and his youth. He smelled delicious, but I stayed my desires. I had created a delicate symbiosis with the townsfolk of Towerhead; they sent me their old and dying to feed upon, and I provided them with healing, and medicine. It was a tenuous relationship, but it worked, as long as neither side overstepped themselves. The old and dying came willingly, wanting to spend their last days in pleasure and comfort, but if a young man were to come along, I was to reject him. So, I grew nervous as he approached my door, and I pondered for a moment to act like I wasn’t home. If the townsfolk saw this man enter my abode, it would raise questions, and the god-fearing people of Towerhead usually answered questions of magical beings with pitchforks and torches. He knocked on the door, and I sighed.

“One moment.” I called to the door, adjusting myself in the mirror. I was naked, of course. Clothes were such a bother, unless they were lingerie, in which case they were wonderful fun. Still, I couldn’t risk unintentionally tempting this boy with my body. My tan complexion was a pristine canvas formed across a set of curves that bowed vulgarly about my outline. My breasts swelled from my chest in perfect proportion to my delicate frame; sloping over a silky abdomen that was toned with soft muscle, and dotted with a small navel at its center. The lines of my torso trailed together into my pelvis, which was outlined by wide hips, and a robust, perfect backside that creased into two, perfect domes, whose supple texture was hinted at with each lascivious step. My thighs were thick, toned and smooth, and revealed a hairless, tight slit at their apex. My eyes were big, innocent and violet, my cheekbones were high and baring lush cheeks, and my lips were full, pink and luscious. I was a beautiful, human woman in all aspects, save for the curved horns that protruded from my mane of wavy, black hair, and the long, thin tail that grew outward from my tailbone. I tossed a baggy tunic over my perfection, and walked to the door.

“Yes?” I asked, opening the small window at the front of the door, where only my violet eyes could be seen.

“Are you Tera?” the young man asked. He looked to be about sixteen, blonde of hair, slight of build, and obviously nervous as hell. Thank god; I thought he might be another suicidal young man looking for an easy way out. He was not here for my salacious services.

“I am,” I said, trying to keep the natural seduction out of my voice, “what can I help you with, young man?”

“It’s…” the young man trailed off, “it’s kind of complicated, can I come in?”

So, an embarrassing ailment of some kind. God, I hope he didn’t come for an erectile dysfunction cure.

“Roll up your sleeves, take off your boots, splay your hands, spread your legs, lift up your shirt, and spin around three times,” I replied, “then show me your gold.”

The young man did as requested; taking off his boots, lifting up his shirt and tucking it beneath his chin, rolling up his sleeves, and then splaying his hands, spreading his legs, and spinning slowly around three times. I took an indulgent moment to admire the toned muscle of his abdomen, and the veins in his forearms, and then told him he could stop. I told him to turn out his pockets, and he did, relinquishing the pouch of gold he had, as well as fishing hooks, twine and some lint. I gave him another studious once-over, checking the loose spots in his clothing for signs of a weapon, before I finally opened the door.

“Come in,” I said with what I hoped was a welcoming smile, and not the seductive smirk I naturally wore, “but leave your boots outside; I don’t want you to track dirt in.”

I walked over to my desk, trying my damndest to keep my gait from turning into a sultry strut, and then sat down behind it, and gestured for the young man to take a seat across from me. He sat awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs, and I pulled out my notebook and quill.

“So, what ails you?” I asked, trying to keep my face passive, trying not to leer at the young man, “How can I help?”

“I’m not sick,” the young man said, entwining his fingers nervously, “I have a… I have a spiritual problem.”

“I’m not a therapist,” I replied, “I suggest you take your spiritual problem up with the town priest.”

“It’s not like that,” the man said, “I mean, I have a spirit following me.”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded, making a note on the paper, “paranoid schizophrenia. There’s no cure, but I do have herbs that can dull the hallucinations.”

The young man stared at me for a moment, and then cocked his head, as though he were listening to something. He nodded to his imaginary friend, and I made another note on my paper.

“You’re not writing my symptoms on that paper,” the man said, “you’re drawing me, with my shirt off, and a very generous bulge in my pants.”

I started upright in my chair, and then slammed my notebook on the table, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. I was about to say something to explain myself, but the man cut me off.

“You have three bottles of five-hundred-year old wine, a closet full of lingerie, and a hidden door in your back room,” the man said, staring levelly at me, cocking his head as he listened, “and behind the hidden door, is-”

“Stop!” I screamed, feeling my heart race, “Don’t you say another fucking word!”

“…your daughter,” the young man finished, “combing her hair and looking out of a one-way window.”

I stared at the man in disbelief as I subtly reached beneath the desk and grasped the stock of the crossbow riveted to the bottom of the tabletop.

“I bet you can see this, too.” I whispered, aiming the bolt at the man’s crotch.

“I can’t see anything,” the man said, “it’s my sister who scouted the place while you searched me.”

“Where is she?!” I hissed, “Is she with my daughter?!”

“She’s actually sitting on top of your head, trying desperately to punch you before you shoot me in the balls,” the man responded, his voice wavering in fear, “if my promise it worth anything to you, Tera, I promise I won’t tell anyone about your daughter.”

I tensed my finger on the trigger, weighing my options in my head. The people of Towerhead barely tolerated me, and if they found out I had bred, I had no doubts about what they’d do to me and my daughter. But if I killed this boy, people would ask questions. Death is commonplace in Towerhead, but murder isn’t. A missing boy, last seen walking down my path? I might as well tie myself to a stake and light the match. I eased my finger off the trigger, and sat back, but kept my hand resting on the stock. There were two possibilities with this young man: either he’d possessed an astral being and named it his sister, or… well, that was the only option, really, because the alternative was impossible. Nearly impossible, anyway. Those legends are older than I am, and I’m five-hundred years old. That age has passed, and that magic is dead; dead and gone forever. I mean… I couldn’t be sitting in front of a god, right?

“OK, boy,” I said, looking at him sharply, “where are you keeping the gemstone?”

“The gemstone?” he asked.

“That’s how you captured the astral being, isn’t it?” I replied, “The charm on the doorway should have detected it though, so you couldn’t have brought it with you.” I looked the young man over, running through the options in my head, “…though you wouldn’t need a gemstone if you’re really an elf. Hmm… no pointed ears, and your eyes aren’t the right shade of blue… the freckles certainly don’t fit…wrong shade of blonde, too…”

“I uh…” the young man said, shifting nervously, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nymphs don’t need gemstone’s either,” I mused, feeling my options dwindling, “but you certainly aren’t one of those… OK, I give up; how did you capture the astral being without a gemstone?”

“Like I said,” the young man replied, looking very nervous, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a gemstone, and I don’t know what an astral being even is.”

I leaned forward, staring intently at him as my finger twitched against the trigger of the crossbow. Something clearly alerted him to the danger he was in, because he flinched as my hand angled into the firing position.

“An astral being is a force a nature,” I said, searching for recognition in his eyes, “it’s what makes magic work. There are thousands of types of astral beings, and more than a few of them can give the user the power to snoop around my fucking house.”

“I’m being honest with you,” the young man said, his shaking voice barely a whisper, his body visibly trembling, “please, let me go.”

“I’m sorry, boy,” I said, tightening my finger on the trigger, and tilting the crossbow upward so that the sights zeroed-in on his stomach, “but I don’t believe you.”

“Mom!” Justina’s voice screamed from behind, “Stop!”

JUSTINA

It appeared to me as a glint of blue light. It glared against the wall, and I studied it, trying to figure out what prism in my room could create such a projection of the sun. Then I realized the glint was shining counter to the sunlight, and I became even more intrigued.

“What are you?” I asked the glint, stepping in front of the sun coming from my window, and noting that my shadow did not cast upon the light, “An astral being?”

The glint vibrated against the wall, as if in answer to my question. Neither an affirmative, nor a negative, but still a response. I reached out and touched the spot, and felt nothing. An astral being isn’t nothing; they have some substance to them. So, not an astral being. I looked at the extensive library Mother had collected over the years, pondering which tome had the answers to this intriguing mystery. Mother was a doctor at heart, but me, I was a scientist. I rubbed my thumb and forefinger against the tip of my left horn in a ponderous motion, running my eyes over the spines of each expansive volume.

Histories of The Arcane Arts, A Collection of The Mystic Texts, a blue woman standing behind me, The Testaments of-

My gaze flashed by an old spyglass sitting on the shelf, and then darted back as my heart jumped in my throat. The fish-eyed reflection of the spyglass showed a blue woman, screaming into my ear. I turned my head slowly to the left, feeling my terror rising in my throat, but I saw nothing. I turned my gaze back to the spy glass, and there she was. My curiosity overtook my fear, and I leaped into action. I ran over to my dresser and pulled out my hand mirror. I aimed the glass toward the glint on the wall, but didn’t see the woman in the reflection. I turned the glass away from the glint, slowly angling it, until it appeared at the very edge of the reflection. And there she was, right where the glass met the wood frame of the hand mirror. Aim the glass too directly, and she was gone, but aim is so that the glint just barely showed on the edge, and she appeared. She was young, beautiful, and obviously terrified. Why was she scared? What was she trying to say?

“What?” I asked, “What is it?”

The blue woman stopped, realizing I could see her. She pointed to the door of my room, which was hidden behind the book shelf on the other side. I nodded. She assumed a sitting position, her body seeming to be supported by nothing, and then she brought her arm forward, her index finger pointing outward, and then clenching.

“Sitting and smoking?” I asked, “Someone’s sitting and smoking outside?”

She shook her head furiously, and brought her other hand in front of the one clenching her index finger. She cupped the other hand as if she was holding something in front of her, flexed her index finger, and jerked her arms back. Jerked her arms back as if… as if in recoil, from pulling a trigger. Mom’s crossbow! Mom was going to kill someone! I ran to the bookshelf, undid the hidden latch, and then burst into the room.

“Mom!” I screamed, holding the mirror in my hand, “Stop!”

BRANDON

If I hadn’t skipped breakfast, I would have shit myself already. Angela was flitting frantically from Tera’s head, to the bookshelf in the corner, racing back and forth in a blur of translucent light. She told me I was in danger, she told me Tera had her hand on the trigger, and then she left me alone with the succubus, and went to the hidden room that housed the beautiful monster’s offspring. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the girl; it was pretty obvious Tera wanted her to remain secret, but I had to think of some way to convince her beyond all doubt that Angela was real. Then she went off about astral beings, and magic, and all the shit you’d never hear about in the god-fearing hovel that was Towerhead.

“I’m sorry, boy,” Tera said, her violet eyes narrowing, “but I don’t believe you.”

I seized up in horror as the hidden door came flying open, and a young, naked, beautiful girl burst into the room.

“Mom!” the teenaged succubus screamed, “Stop!”

Tera jolted upright in shock, and the motion caused her to pull the stock of the weapon upward, and release the trigger. The bolt zipped right for me, and struck with a thud into the wood of the chair, right between my legs. I groaned, slid down the back of the chair, and nearly pissed myself.

“What?!” Tera said, alarmed, running to her daughter. I couldn’t help but notice that the woman moved with a naturally seductive grace; her hips shifting dramatically, her ass bulging from cheek to cheek with each step. Before, all of her motions were stiff and calculated, and I realized that she was probably dialing-down her natural charm to keep me from getting the wrong idea.

“Look!” the daughter said to Tera, holding up a hand mirror and angling it so that it faced almost perpendicular to their faces. Tera stared intently at the mirror, and then her eyes widened. Behind her, I could see Angela jutting her hands in the air, both her middle fingers raised as she screamed profanities the succubi couldn’t hear. Tera looked from the mirror, to the empty space behind her, and then to me. Her face broadened into a wide-eyed expression of awe, and her hands moved to the laces of her tunic, and untied them. The cloth that covered her fell to the floor, and the impossibly curvaceous body beneath it stepped forward in all its bronze glory. I stared with mouth agape in terror, shock, and arousal as she approached me, her face still baring an expression of profound awe.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” I stammered, my feet kicking against the ground as I tried to right myself in the chair, “I’m more than willing to pay in gold, Tera; you can put your clothes back on.”

“You’re still in your infancy, aren’t you?” Tera said, her astonished expression contrasting the low, sultry tone of her voice, “You don’t even know what you are, do you?”

“What you’re doing is very illegal!” I said, simultaneously trying to get out of the chair, and kick at the approaching monster, “They’ll burn you for this!”

“Mom,” the daughter said from behind Tera, “what are you doing?”

“We’re in the presence of divinity, Justina,” Tera said, not looking back at her daughter, only staring at me, her astonished expression mingling with a carnal hunger behind her violet irises, “empires have been burned to ash, genocides committed, continents thrown into chaos, just for a chance… just for a chance at the opportunity we have before us.”

“A Creator?” Justina asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if the very words were holy.

“A Creator,” Tera smiled down at me, just out of reach of my kicking foot, “but still just a babe, still vulnerable, still moldable, still unbound.”

Tera caught my kicking foot with deft reflexes, and her warm, gentle touch seeped its way into my skin. I felt my body relax despite myself; my posture softening, my abdomen unclenching, and my leg falling limp in her hand. My heartbeat slowed in my chest, and my panic left me as my waistband tightened with unnatural arousal.

“Still just a babe,” Tera smiled warmly, carefully letting my foot drop to the floor, “still weak and afraid and looking for answers. I have the answers you want, boy; let me give them to you.”

“Brandon?!” Angela screamed in my ear, “Brandon?!”

Her words seemed distant and faded, as if she were calling from a mountaintop. Tera’s hand slid up my leg, her fingertips never leaving me, never giving me a chance to break from their lustful prison. She knelt between my legs as her other hand curled its elegant, long fingers about my waistband, and began to pull down.

“No,” I whimpered hoarsely, feeling my resolve fade, “please…”

“Don’t resist me,” Tera whispered, her eyes brimming with promise, her voice dripping like honey into the back of my mind, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Brandon!” a faintly familiar voice echoed in my ear, “Don’t give in; fight it!”

Tera pulled my pants past my knees, and her hungry, violet eyes fell on the growing member between my legs. She let my pants drop to my ankles, and then traced her fingers along my inner thighs. Tingles of felicitous warmth permeated from her gentle touch, and I watched helplessly as my cock engorged. Her violet irises gleamed as they reflected the curved nature of my arousal, and I groaned in need as the skin-splitting intensity of my erection was displayed for her.

“Wow,” she muttered, her voice a gentle song that echoed in my skull, “you truly are divine. What is your name, boy?”

“Brandon.” I muttered, unable to refuse her, and increasingly losing the resolve to even try.

“Brandon,” she hissed, a snake-like tongue flicking from her mouth and running across her full lips, indenting the glistening outline of her mouth and revealing the soft nature of it, “what are your desires, Brandon? What have you always wanted to do to a woman?”

“I…,” I droned, not knowing what to say, “I don’t know.”

“Ah,” she smiled knowingly, her eyes sparkling as her gentle fingers came together, wrapping their cool touch about my raging heat, “a virgin. This must all be so confusing to you. Don’t worry, Brandon; I’ll be gentle with you. You’re safe with me.”

Her violet eyes watched me from the tops of her whites as her full, pouting lips descended to my tip. Her fingers stroked me a final time, and then rested their cool, comforting touch on the flat of my pelvis. Tara’s lips pursed together, and pressed against my tip. Her tongue flicked between the lush outline of her mouth, and licked the froth of precum that had pooled at my peak. I groaned in satisfaction, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a knowing smile. She took me in. Her lips puffed about my girth in an air-tight seal, and her long, reptilian tongue wrapped around me, stroking me in its lewd hold as she descended. Her eyes twinkled in desire as her mouth consumed inch after inch of me; her lips sucking softly, drawing me ever deeper into her. She hummed a lecherous tone as my tip pushed past the resistance of her throat, and slid into the tight, wet channel of her neck. I could see the indentation of my girth bulging slightly from her throat, but she didn’t gag; she just coiled swallowing heat around me. Her lips squished around my base, her nose pressed into the soft flesh of my pelvis, and her throat tightened about her meal. My head dropped against the back of the chair as a pleasured murmur slipped from my mouth. She winked at me knowingly, and then rotated her lips. My legs splayed further apart as she wrapped her mouth about my cock. Spit leaked from the crease of her vulgar consumption and wetted the base of my shaft, leaving a sheen of her lust along the circular path of her motion. I reached forward and laid a hand on her head, marveling at the soft texture of her hair. She smiled around my cock as I finally reciprocated her affection, and then she drew upward. My god, it felt like she was trying to milk the cum from my balls. Her lips sucked with a gentle determination that seemed to pull my insides up my shaft. Her tongue ran along the underside of my manhood the whole way up, and then wrapped around me again as she descended once more. I felt my control slipping from me with each pass of her wonderful mouth. Every part of me that she touched seemed to weaken in a blissful surrender, as if my muscles were becoming gelatinous atop my bones. It was a pleasant, soothing feeling, and it spread from the points of contact, loosening the tension inside me and guiding me gently into my own enslavement.

“Oh… fuck.” I managed to say as her head moved up and down, gradually building up speed, but still retaining its gentle motions. Somewhere deep in the corridors of my mind, I heard a voice screaming my name. I knew the voice, but I didn’t know where I knew it. Its owner wasn’t visible to me any longer.

ANGELA

“Brandon!” I screamed, floating inches from his face, “Brandon?!”

His eyes were glazed over, his mouth was moaning, and his face bore an expression of pure bliss. Below me, Tera fed upon my brother with deep, passionate passes. I gave her head a useless, frustrated kick, and then looked over to Justina. She could see me! I didn’t know how she could, or what I looked like to her, but I knew she saw me with her naked eyes. She couldn’t hear me, I deduced that much, but I appeared to her in some form. She was sitting behind her mother’s desk, watching Tera feast on my brother. She looked very much like her mother; black, wavy hair, bronze skin, violet eyes, and two curved horns and a pointed tail. The difference between the two, is that Tera bore the body of a fully-fledged woman, while Justina’s more subtle curves marked her as a girl in her mid-to-late teens, with her face still carrying the smooth fullness of youth. I rushed over to the teenaged monster, and stopped short when I realized what she was doing. Both of her hands were between her legs; the tendons in her forearms flexing as she pushed her fingers inside herself. She moaned and gasped quietly as she watched the debauchery, and I let out a frustrated scream and sent a kick flying into her face.

Her hair moved. It was a subtle thing, something that could be mistaken for a trick of the wind, but I saw it. I kicked at her again, and strands of black hair brushed slightly past her face. There was something about Justina… something that let her see me, and now, feel me. Whatever connection there was between us, it was growing stronger, and I needed to exploit it, and fast! I didn’t know how much longer Brandon could remain himself, but by the expression on his face, I could tell he didn’t have much time.

I dropped in front of the moaning teenager’s face, and saw her eyes blur and then refocus. She squinted them, as though she wasn’t quite sure if there was something before her. I tried punching her in the eye, but my fist only passed through her. One of her lashes bent slightly, but nothing else happened. I tried again with similar results, and then scrambled for other options. I bit at her cheeks, kicked at her gut, slapped at her ears, and only got ineffective responses. I felt the frustration boil inside me, and then I stopped, and looked down.

Well… she is a succubus after all. Maybe violence isn’t the right route.

I took a deep breath, and steeled myself.

Alright, Angela, you can be sexy. I know she’s a seductress from the depths of hell, and you’re a dead virgin whose only sexual experience is catching your brother masturbating, but you got this! Confidence! I am a sexy beast! I have the best pickup lines, and my feminine intuition is second to none! I’m not a dead virgin; I am the angel of pussy!

I floated down between Justina’s legs, and stared blankly at the calculus-level math problem that is the human vagina.

Ok… that’s clearly the labia, and that’s the clitoris, and that’s the… what the fuck is that? C’mon Angela, you have a vagina, you should know this! Ok, maybe I’ll just put my fingers right… there. Hey, I can feel that! Oh my god, I can feel that!

“Hey, Brandon!” I yelled over my shoulder, “I’m touching Justina’s-”

Oh, right; Brandon is being enslaved by a psychotic whore; back to work.

I pushed a little harder, but my fingers simply passed through Justina’s glistening, pink skin. She didn’t seem to notice that we had made contact, but I knew that I was making progress. I gritted my teeth, and then touched her again, this time on the clitoris. My fingers connected with the flesh, and I could feel her warmth radiating into me. I didn’t try to push harder, but simply caressed back and forth along the erogenous bead of the teenaged seductress. I looked up at her to see if she was feeling it, and I smiled as her eyes slowly cast downward.

Oh yeah, that feels good doesn’t it, Justina? You like it when I do this… when I do this thing to your… is that the vestibule or the frenulum? OK, dirty talk needs work, but baby steps, Angela; don’t try to hit a homerun with every swing. Just stick to the clitoris, and everything will be fine.

I rubbed gently along Justina’s clit, feeling the contact become more and more real with every pass of my fingers. At first, I could only sense the warmth of her skin, but soon after, I felt the wetness of her, the tender texture of her flesh, and then the quivering nature of her sensitive spot. Justina’s expression became a mixture of confusion and pleasure, and for the first time in my dead, adolescent life, I felt… something. It was a strange, foreign feeling, an emptiness-no… a craving. My breath quickened in my chest, and an aching, longing desire crept between my legs. I wanted to please this woman; I wanted to see her need brim behind her beautiful, violet irises, and then I wanted to fulfill that need. Without really knowing what I was doing, I withdrew my hand, and lowered my lips to her depths. I took an indulgent inhale, and I could smell her! The sweet stink of her hormone-rich arousal wafted into my nose, and leaked its seductive tendrils into the primal heart of my mind. I grinned broadly, and pushed my face against her.

JUSTINA

At first, it felt like the wind in my hair. Then, I felt one of my eyelashes bend. Then… then I felt something else. I glanced downward, and saw shimmer in the air between my legs. I cautiously withdrew my fingers, wondering if the sensation I felt was just an errant brush of my hand, but I still felt it. That girl… she had no substance before, but now, I could feel her. It was a slight feeling; a gentle brush that started against my outer-lips, then withdrew, then continued again against my clit. She stayed there, and the feeling became more and more pronounced the longer she lingered. What started as a soft tickle became a gentle caress, and then, I felt heat. Wet, soft, heat pressing against my petals, running through them with unpracticed, boorish motions. Was she… was she trying to eat me out? I widened the spread of my tan legs and looked down in fascination and arousal. The tender folds of my pussy pressed and deformed seemingly on their own as the wet heat ran through them. It felt good, but I still giggled at the inexperienced nature of the motions.

“Are you a virgin?” I laughed, “Lick once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no.’”

There was a tentative pause, and then a single stroke ran through me. I shivered at the feeling, and then laughed at the character behind it. I could tell she had to think about it; she was embarrassed about her inexperience. It was bizarre, to be eaten out by a specter, and I suspected most people would run away from the experience, but not me. I’m a succubus, but more importantly, I’m a scientist. Understanding comes from extensive research, and hands-on research is the best kind. Curiosity mixed with arousal inside me, and I felt a giddy sense of exhilaration stir in my chest.

“Did I feel your fingers before?” I asked, biting my lower lip in excitement.

A single lick coursed through me; flattening my labia and wetting my inner-lips with her lust.

“I thought I did,” I smiled, “do you want me to teach you how to please a woman, my ghostly, little pervert?”

A resounding ‘yes’ smeared across me, and my legs twitched in delight. I let out a girlish squeal and clapped my hands together.

“OK,” I smiled, shifting my hips and spreading my legs wider, “put your middle two fingers inside me, like this,” I said, turning my wrist so that my palm faced the ceiling, and extending my ring and middle finger, “then, curl them like this,” I said, slightly bending my fingers forward, “and press along the ceiling. You’ll find a spot, and believe me, you’ll know when you’ve hit it. Once you get that spot, just rub along it nice and slow.”

She did as I taught her, and she was an avid student. I corrected her form only once before she had her fingers on the sweet spot. I moaned a delighted tenor of pleasure as I felt her pressing against my tender depths and sliding her fingers through me.

“Now,” I grinned, watching in fascination as my pussy was spread open and violated by nothing at all, “put your mouth right here,” I gestured to my clit, “then wrap your lips around the hood, and gently (and I mean gently!), suck on it.”

I looked down as my clit reddened with a pressure I couldn’t see, and my hood pinched between invisible, sucking lips. My erogenous bead and the fleshy hood that bore it were stretched from my pussy, and then sucked carefully into the pleasuring mouth of the ethereal woman. This time, I didn’t moan. This time, I let out a cry of delight as the feeling surged through my nethers. Her fingers pressed harder against my spot, her lips sucked with more voracity, and an exhilarating rush of euphoria expanded within me. Holy shit, this girl is making me come!

ANGELA

I always considered myself to be heterosexual. I mean, I didn’t really know what my sexuality was, but I assumed that if I were alive, I’d like men. Now, I still might have a disposition for penis, but this pussy… well, it ain’t bad. Justina was delicious. I tasted her desire leaking into my mouth, and permeating its flavor into my throat. I grinned up at her as I twisted her clit between my sucking lips, watching in pride as the woman’s face became a portrait of ecstasy. I made her moan, whimper, and scream, and her weak, feminine tones only made me hunger for more. My invading fingers pressed along her ceiling, and I zeroed-in on her weak spot. It was easy to find; the face she made when I touched it, the convulsions that wracked her when I pressed onto it, and the flexing nature of her abdomen when I rubbed it, were all the evidence I needed. Watching her pleasure flourish from my hand and mouth made my arousal grow, and I grinded my thighs together beneath myself, almost feeling the skin that should be there, but the sensation eluded me. It was maddening, to be able to feel the parts of my body that touched Justina, but not the parts that seemed to scream with unfulfilled need. The frustration only compelled me to eat the woman with more passion, and I pressed my face harder against her delightful, tender petals.

The connection between Justina and myself became stronger with each passing second. It was as if she was somehow sharing her capacity to feel with me. Her pleasured face looked down at me; her luscious lips falling agape and quirking in a wondrous smile, her big, violet eyes shining with astonishment, and her brow furrowed and creased with lines about her smooth forehead. Her chest heaved in bouts of pleasure, and her petite, cute breasts jiggled softly with her lustful expirations. A sheen of glistening sweat glowed from her tan form, and her spread legs began to twitch with sporadic convulsions. She was coming. I hummed a low, growling moan as I sucked her parts deeper into my mouth, toying her sensitive bead with the tip of my tongue as my lips puffed around her. She started to pant like a bitch; her breaths short and sputtering, interrupted by manic laughs of pure delight. Her abdomen twitched in a chorus of convulsions, and she threw her head back and screamed as a fountain of juices splashed through my ethereal figure.

And then, I saw something. A connection, a line of energy, running from my mind to hers. I saw it clear as day; a blue, spiraling, flame of rope that bridged our very selves. I could feel its magnetic pull on my temples, and I knew I had to charge up it. So, I did. I focused all the will of my being, and launched my consciousness into hers. My ghostly body vanished behind me, and I drove my essence into the center of her mind.

BRANDON

Tera left my cock with a parting kiss, strings of precum bridging her luscious lips and my tip. She smiled up at me as she rose, planted her palms on my thighs and slid her perfect form up my torso. Her ample, succulent breasts squished against my chest, her toned abdomen stretched and flattened against my belly, and her thick thighs spread around my waist and squeezed softly. Her hands reached behind me and clasped gently together across the back of my neck, her long, elegant fingers trailing pleasantly through the hair behind my ears. Every part of me she touched melted into a relaxed, weakened state, save for the tension between my legs that only grew tighter.

“Are you ready to become a man?” she smiled down at me, her voice a melody of sweet lust. Her forehead touched mine, and her violet, sparkling eyes shone their excitement into my own. I could only grin back stupidly.

“You know, you can touch me,” she whispered, crinkling her nose affectionately as she smirked, “I’m not a display at a museum.”

I reached behind her, and rested my palms on the fat of her ass. The quirk of her devious grin beckoned me to continue, so I squeezed. She gasped slightly through her smiling mouth, and planted an affectionate kiss on my closed lips. The delectable flesh of her backside formed warm and soft in my hands, and protruded from between my gripping knuckles. She kissed me again, and her tongue flicked across my mouth, beckoning it to open. I did, and I tasted the sweet flavor of her as she invaded me. Her lips sucked with a gentle hedonism, and her tongue toyed with my own, playfully inviting me to engage with her. I reciprocated her affection, and drank in her lust as my eyes closed in bliss. She parted from the embrace in a gasp, and I could feel her heart thrumming through her pressing breasts. She reached back, grabbed my cock, and positioned it at her slick, tight entrance. I felt her petals give way to my rigid heat, and I felt her body weight shift slowly backward. Her violet eyes never left mine as she slowly, tenderly, took my virginity.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her words breathy in her excited exhalations, “let me take you all the way in.”

She did. Her wet, tight heat surrounded me, consumed me, pressed me on all sides in her lecherous embrace. She moaned softly as inch after inch entered her, and her moan grew in its intensity the deeper I got. My balls pressed against her taint, and her demonic tail curled behind her in satisfaction. Her wet, luscious lips parted to yield a soft whimper, and her comforting eyes wilted into an expression of vulnerability.

“God, Brandon,” she gasped, “you’re so deep inside me!”

For a moment, she lost control of herself, and I felt a surge of my former mind break through my lustful haze. She regained her composure faster than I could react, and she clenched around me in a hold that nearly caused me to come right there.

“You almost had me there,” she winked, smiling, moaning as she began to shift her hips, “for most men, just a single touch will make them my slaves, but you’re not most men, Brandon.”

“What are you talking about?” I groaned, gripping her by the hips as she gyrated on top of me; her thighs squeezing my waist, her ass rotating behind her, my cock stirring her insides as she pulled me into her with the motion of her grinds.

“You’re a god, Brandon,” she said, gasping the words, seemingly getting turned on by the very idea of them, “you’re a Creator, a force of nature more powerful than a hurricane, and you’re all mine.”

“Tera,” I growled in pleasure, “I’m just some fucking guy.”

“That’s very modest of you,” Tera laughed, her mirth melodic and sweet, “but come now, Brandon; even if you weren’t a god, with this thing between your legs, you’re more than just some fucking guy.”

Her motions became more fervent, more impassioned. She arched her back; pushing her perfect ass out from her body, pressing her silky torso deeper against my belly, and thrusting her supple breasts upward, squishing them against my chest. The rotations of her hips drew me ever deeper, and I could feel the contractions streaming inside her with every subtle thrust of my pelvis. My cock glided into her welcoming heat, and rubbed along her clit as I drove in contest with her lascivious motions.

“What makes you think I am what you say I am?” I asked, locking into her rhythm and pumping as she pushed our pelvises together.

“Your sister is dead, Brandon,” Tera smiled, her mouth partially agape and exhaling sweet tones, “but she’s still here. How much power do you think it takes to defy death itself?”

“But,” I sputtered, gritting my teeth as I forced an orgasm down, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes, you did,” Tera gasped, reaching behind me and clutching my shoulders for leverage, dragging her warm, soft body against mine, “you just didn’t know what you were doing. Extreme stress can unlock the power of a Creator,” she turned my chin up to meet hers, and she displayed a set of sparkling white teeth between her lush lips, “or extreme pleasure.”

Her hand moved from my chin and entangled in the hair at the back of my head. She gently pulled backward, and I compliantly tilted my head to reveal the vulnerable curve of my neck. She kissed me there, softly, comfortingly, and I felt my mind lose its need to question her. I couldn’t sense… what was her name again? The woman… the girl… she was always with me, wasn’t she? Where was she? Where did she go? It didn’t matter; nothing but Tera mattered. Tera’s thighs gently squeezing my waist, Tera’s soft abdomen sinking into my belly, Tera’s warm breasts squishing against my chest, and Tera’s tender kisses sucking love against my neck, were the only things that mattered. The warmth of her body, the softness of her flesh, the soothing nature of her motions, and the tight, delicate heat of her insides were the only things present in the world. She massaged me from within; drawing me deeper into her lust with the lewd muscles of her erogeneity as her seduction drew me further from my mind with the gentle guidance of her enslavement.

ANGELA

My mind was flooded with fractured memories, odd sensations, blurs of images and words, and a swirling tempest of different emotions. It was maddening, excruciating, and utterly confusing, but I gritted my mental teeth, and stormed through it, hoping it would calm. Eventually, it did, and I opened someone else’s eyes.

Hello? a voice called from the depths of my mind.

Justina? I asked, looking down to see a tan, beautiful naked body stretching below me.

Are you the ghost? Justina asked, the one whose fingers were just inside me? Is your name Angela?

Yup! I responded brightly, That’s me! How’d you guess that?

Your mind is in my brain, and our thoughts are open to each other; this is truly fascinating, Justina said, a touch of awe in her mental voice, can you move me?

I looked down at my…our hand, and tested the nerves. It splayed just like I wanted it to, and I moved it in front of my eyes, turning it over along the wrist as a flood of emotion poured into me.

Oh my god, I thought, my mental voice quivering as though tears were welling, I can feel everything!

It’s so beautiful, Justina sniffled, this means so much to you!

Why are you getting all teary-eyed? I asked her, feeling my emotion edging my voice.

We share the same mind now, Justina said, her words wavering in the same euphoria I felt, emotions are just chemical reactions in the brain prompted by external stimulus, so your emotions are my emotions, and visa-versa. I’ve been trying to stay emotionally blank for you; I don’t want to contaminate the sample.

You’re quite the little scientist, aren’t you? I said, flipping through the pages of our mind, experiencing the memories of Justina, Always doing experiments, always forming a hypothesis, always- I cut off as I got to a particular memory. I let it linger there, feeling extremely awkward.

Hey, stop that! Justina yelled, Stop feeling awkward, you’re making me feel awkward!

Justina, I said, experiencing this memory in her mind, feeling the emotions she felt then, mingling with our present emotions, Are you gonna… are you gonna explain this one to me?

Mom says I’m not old enough to feed myself, Justina said, so I take the left overs; can you stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable?! It’s completely natural for a young succubus!

You’re sucking sperm out of your mother’s asshole, I said frankly, feeling the breadth of the memory; tasting the memory of her mother’s ass on my tongue, feeling the memory of her mother’s fingers in my body, feeling Justina’s past arousal, her present annoyance, and my own disgust mix into a concoction of volatile emotion, and it feels like you both really enjoyed the experience.

Yes, it’s a wonderful mother-daughter bonding moment, Justina said, there’s a whole brain full of them if you’re feeling frisky, but for now, I think we should keep our memories in check; I certainly don’t want to remember your death-STOP REMEMBERING YOUR DEATH!

Sorry, I said, feeling Justina’s horror fade as I pushed back the memory, but you brought it up. It’s kind of hard not remembering something when someone else mentions it.

OK, Justina said with an exaggerated exhale, as if she were breathing the memory out of her, what’s the plan?

The plan? I asked, I don’t have a plan; I’ve just been winging it. I don’t even know how I got here!

I suddenly realized that I could help Brandon. I looked down at the crossbow under the desk, and Justina immediately seized control of our motor functions.

No, no, no, Justina said firmly, that is not going to happen. This is still my brain, and this is still my body; you’re not using it to kill my mother.

At least help me pull her off of him! I yelled.

I’m willing to help you, Justina said, but my mother is hundreds of years old, trained in elite combat, and could easily seduce me if she so desired. Besides that, I quite like her, and don’t feel like straining our relationship.

But you’re willing to help? I asked.

Hold on a second, Justina said, and I could sense her carefully shuffling through the pages of my subconscious, try to keep your mind neutral.

What are you doing? I asked her as the memory of me frantically flying between Justina’s room, and the space above Tera’s head appeared in our mind.

Testing a theory, Justina replied, showing me the idea she was forming in our mind, a Creator’s power is unlocked during times of extreme pleasure or stress. Knowing a crossbow is being aimed at your testicles is probably pretty stressful.

What the fuck is a Creator? I asked.

An ancient being with god-like power-I know, you don’t believe me, but for now, just hear me out.

The memory slowed to a crawl. Brandon was looking at me fearfully, his eyes begging me to find a way to save him. As the memory passed, I saw a blue tendril of power burst from his mouth, and fly right into my chest. It was so fast that it could barely be seen, and I was so scared that I didn’t notice it in the moment, but looking back on it, it was as clear as day. The blast of power was the manifestation of a plea, but it wasn’t really a plea, it was… a command. As the recollection slowly passed, I somehow intuitively knew what the command said: “find help.”

And you did, Justina said, Brandon gave you the power to interact with me. I could see some form of you when no one else could, but that’s not all he did.

This time, one of Justina’s memories played before our eyes. It was of Justina, bursting from her concealed room and looking at Brandon. Another stream of power flowed from Brandon’s mouth, words that he didn’t form with his lips, but with the pleas of his heart. “Help me,” they said to Justina, and then another blast of power shot to me, “get her to help me.”

Brandon created a connection between us, Justina said, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he did it. Succubi connect with other species in only one intimate way: sex. So, our connection strengthened with our lust. I have another crazy theory, if you want to hear it.

I’m all ears. I responded, trying to keep my confusion in check for fear of messing with Justina’s progress.

You are the complete manifestation of Brandon’s power, Justina said, he should have exhibited some signs of his godhood by now, but to everyone else’s eyes, Brandon is just some guy. That’s because he’s poured every ounce of his divine strength into keeping you ‘alive.’ He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but every time external stress prompts him to use his power, his first instinct is to give it to you, to protect you, or for you to protect him. He can’t help himself; ever since he saved you from passing on, his divine reflexes have been trained to you. Now, here’s the kicker; you ready for this shit?

Uh… sure. I said, feeling a little intimidated by Justina’s words and the tone of her mental voice. She seemed to talk faster and faster, as if her revelation was bursting from her subconscious in a manic vomit of words. She was obviously extremely excited about what she’d found.

The kicker is, Justina said, allowing a dramatic pause, you’re in my head now. My brain is supporting your existence without Brandon’s help, but he doesn’t know it. He has the power to save himself right now!

We need to tell him! I said excitedly.

No, we don’t, Justina chuckled, we just need to watch, and wait. Extreme pleasure unlocks the power of a Creator, Angela; let’s watch your brother come inside my mother.

TERA

Oh my god, this cock is good!

In all my years of debauchery, I’d never lain with a man like Brandon. His rigid member pierced into my most sensitive depths, separating my folds and violating my sanctity. His motions were timid and shy, which was perfect for me, because if this man started gaining confidence, he’d own me in a second. Still, even though he was inexperienced and awkward, he resisted me. It was infuriating and arousing at the same time. He should’ve been mine by now, but he wasn’t. I watched his eyes, waiting for them to turn violet, waiting for them to reflect the corruption of his mind, but they stayed a stubborn blue.

“Come to me, Brandon,” I whispered in his ear, leaking my intoxicating tones into his mind, “become mine.”

I grinded my hips with increased fervency, my motions bordering on desperation. My ass jutted outward and deepened the angle of my arching back, causing the folds of flesh along my waist to crease about the bend. I brought my pelvis forward in the continuation of my motion; flexing my abdomen against his belly as my hips drove against him. His cock stirred my insides with the movement, and my passionate assault only served to drive me further into the depths of my own manic lust. I was losing control of myself in my attempt to take him. His timid thrusts started to grow in their ardency, and I felt the panic rise with the ascension of my pleasure.

“Why do you resist me?” I asked him, trying to keep the seduction in my voice, and the nearly-uncontrollable pleasure out of it, “Don’t you want me?”

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely, seemingly unaware that he was gaining an edge on me, “god, I want you.”

“Then give in to me,” I said, almost pleadingly, now unable to keep the desperate pleasure from ringing in my tones, “I’ll do anything you want, Brandon; there are no depths I won’t stoop to for you.”

My words only encouraged him to thrust harder. A sharp inhale of breath shot through my gritted teeth as I combated the feeling inside me. I felt my control wane, and my body move without my permission, compelled by the euphoria building within me. The controlled, deliberate grinds of my hips changed from steady oscillations, to whorish, needful motions. Instead of seductive circular passes, I began to rise and fall in congruence with Brandon’s thrusts, fucking myself as he fucked me. His cock pushed through me; his length impaling the deepest reaches of my lust, his girth stretching me in all the right ways. My clit ran along his shaft with each pass of our motions, and the feeling of it rubbing along him as he defiled me sent aching pleasure deep into my pelvis. I knew I should stop, I knew I should cut my losses, but I couldn’t help myself. I no longer moaned with the sultry pleasure of a woman in control, but cried out with the panicked yelps of a slut being taken. The easy smile I once wore was replaced with gaping, quivering lips that only pleaded for more, and the blissful gaze of my eyes turned to wide-eyed, teary windows of uncontrollable ecstasy.

Suddenly, Brandon changed. His grip on my ass tightened until it hurt, and he pulled me close to him, pressing my body to his. I held to him desperately, clinging to his shoulders, unable to pull myself from the pleasure he was forcing into me as he regained control of himself. He held my pelvis in stasis, trapping it with his strong arms, and he thrust into me in a fury of blasts. I screamed into his chest, tears welling in my eyes as the pleasure ripped up my spine. His motions became violent, turning my elegant body into a blur of jiggling tan flesh and flailing hair, and I reveled in it.

“What happened to you, Tera?” Brandon asked, teasing mirth in his voice, “Did you give up on me? I’m insulted; I thought you really wanted me.”

“Brandon!” I screamed, looking through tear-streaked eyes at his face above me, “Stop!”

“Stop?!” Brandon laughed, pumping into me so hard the chair was shaking beneath us, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I’m sorry!” I screamed, feeling the pressure ballooning inside me, “Just please, stop!”

“It doesn’t sound like you really want me to stop,” Brandon grinned down, “is this you playing hard to get? You know I hate it when women do that.”

Brandon gripped my ass in a vice-hold, squeezing the flesh until it stung beautifully. He picked me up like I was nothing, turned us around, and then unceremoniously dropped me into the chair. I couldn’t help myself; I squealed in delight at his savagery, and spread my legs wide to either side. I vainly held my arms out in front of me, but the defense was half-hearted at best. I wanted him to take me. He grabbed my outstretched wrists, and pinned them against the chair behind my head; his face hovering over mine, his body looming threateningly as his pelvis smashed into my spread-legged vulnerability.

“Oh, god!” I found myself screaming, the words coming from my mouth without my permission, “Fuck me, Brandon! Make me your whore!”

That was not a dignified sentence, but it was the desire of my heart. Brandon laughed as he launched his body against mine; shifting me brutally against the back of the chair, forcing me up and down with each merciless drive of his hips. I stared up at him with eyes full of submission, my lips quivering and pleading for more abuse, more pain and pleasure. He let go of my hands, and I clutched the back of the chair as one of his hands found a flailing breast, and the other, my throat. I growled an animalistic tone as he clenched both hands; squeezing the succulent form of my breast as he constricted my windpipe. My back arched from the chair, bringing my chest closer to him as I squeaked pathetic tones of my ascension. It was building and building, rising past the point of no return. The quaking, churning ecstasy of my depths rose with the melting of my mind, and the will to remain myself. My spread legs curled around Brandon’s waist and brought him deeper into me; my whorish body demanding to be filled as often as possible. His tip pushed into the resistance of my cervix, and my bodily arch wrenched a violent thrust forward, propelling all but my head and shoulders off the chair. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Brandon’s rigid heat throbbed inside me, and he growled with the escalating fervency of his passion. The pressure built past the critical point, and I was held in a stasis of paralytic euphoria for a brief, but seemingly endless, second. And then, I burst. The feeling rushed inside me, coursing through every nerve in my body, and I blasted a stream of my release onto Brandon’s pelvis. He roared a cathartic, masculine tenor, and then blew inside me. His hot, viscous seed poured into the ruined depths of my body, and seeped its delectable fire into my womb. My blurred vision got a glimpse of the man, and I saw him… I saw him for what he truly was. Bright blue power encased him, seemingly electric in its aura. It coursed through every vein in his body, and showed brightly from his eyes. His eyes did not bare irises, but were simply glowing ovals of power. He stood for a moment, looming over me like the god he was, and then he collapsed on the floor.

BRANDON

The world came back to me. I was lying naked on a bed of pink silk and fine linen. Tera’s form focused above me, her face looking concerned. Upon seeing the slit of my eyes, her expression widened into an endearing, almost motherly smile. A surge of fear ran through me, and I strained to get up and flee, but a searing pain in my head stopped me. Tera rested a cool hand on my forehead, and I noticed that her touch did not affect me.

“Shhhh,” she cooed softly as she gently guided my head back to the pillow, “don’t exert yourself, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace?” I murmured.

“Is that not how you’d like to be addressed?” Tera asked, her face obviously worried, “Have I offended you?” she collapsed to her knees beside me, and began crying at my side, “Please forgive me,” she whispered, “do not take my ignorance as insult.”

“What the fuck…” I mumbled, my head swimming with pain.

“My mother is very taken with you,” Justina said from the other side of me, “I think you might’ve broken her, actually.”

I turned my head to the right, and saw Justina’s naked, nubile body sitting beside me. She smiled brightly at my confused face.

“If you seduce a succubus,” Justina explained, “her powers backfire. Instead of enslaving you, you enslaved her.”

Tera’s face shined with unconditional love. Her big, violet eyes brimmed with faithfulness, and her posture was servile and adoring.

“I think she worships you now,” Justina chuckled, “after you passed out, she wouldn’t let me touch you. She hovered over your body like a protective mama bear, and I had to convince her that you’d be very angry with her if you came-to on a wood floor.”

“Is the bed to your liking?” Tera asked hopefully from my other side, still on her knees, “I wanted to build an altar, but Justina told me you wouldn’t appreciate the ostentation.”

“An altar…” I mused, smiling weakly to myself, “that would’ve been interesting.”

“Then I will build you an altar!” Tera proclaimed firmly, standing up and opening a nearby drawer, “I will build you a shrine! I will turn my humble abode into a temple for your worship! Stupid Justina and her stupid recommendations; of course, a god needs an altar! Why did I listen to her? Please forgive my stupidity, your… your… forgive me, but I do not know your preferred title.”

“Your Holiness, will do fine,” I said, smirking at Justina as she barely controlled her laughter, “and I don’t need a temple; I need some aspirin.”

Tera cursed herself for her lack of foresight (of course his holiness needs an aspirin, god, I’m so fucking stupid!), and then bustled into the kitchen.

“She wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you,” Justina sniggered, “all she could talk about was how she was going to be your most faithful disciple, how she’d worship you endlessly, how she’d gladly give her life for you.” Justina glanced curiously at the slight bulge in the sheets between my legs, “You must be something else, Brandon.”

Tera bustled into the room with aspirin capsules in one hand, and a bottle of her most expensive wine in the other. Apparently, water was too lowly a drink to grace my divine lips. She once again, cursed herself for her foolishness, and then ran back into the kitchen, before returning with the wine in a glass. She walked over to me reverently, then got on her knees, and lifted the aspirin and wine above her head, casting her eyes downward, as though she were presenting me with a holy offering.

“I know what she did was wrong,” Justina said as I accepted Tera’s offering, “but try not to take this too far; I would like my mother back, eventually. Now, your sister-”

“Angela!” I said, nearly choking on the wine. I turned on Tera and yelled, “where is she?!”

Tera cowered on the floor, prostrating herself and wailing about how she wasn’t worthy. Justina’s hand touched my shoulder, and I gawked when I saw the color of her eyes.

“Hey, Brandon!” Angela’s girlish voice sung from Justina’s lips, whose irises were now my sister’s pale blue, “I’m inside a succubus; how cool is that? Well… I guess you know how cool it is, don’t you?” she sniggered, “Turns out, all you had to do to get laid was prove you were a god! Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“How the hell…” I said, peering into the familiar eyes set in the face of another woman, “what did you do?”

“It was you, actually,” Justina said, her eyes returning to violet, “you subconsciously created a connection between your sister and myself.”

“Can she leave?” I asked.

“Justina says I shouldn’t,” Angela piped-in, her blue eyes showing on the succubus’s face, “she says too much of your power is tied to me, and that I should stay in here or I’ll stunt your growth.”

“All of your power was used on her,” Justina said, violet eyes returning, “the exertion of keeping her around was a drain on your potential. Think of your power as a muscle; to develop, it needs to be worked in increments. If it’s constantly under stress, it will atrophy.”

“Justina says you might be able to create a new body for me!” Angela interrupted, abruptly changing Justina’s eye color, “She says you’re the Life Giver.”

“The what?” I asked, “I thought I was a Creator?”

“There are three Creators,” Justina said, coming back to the forefront, “Life Giver, Earth Former and Heat Bringer. You are Life Giver, obviously.”

“And the other two?” I asked, “Are they alive?”

“The Three always arrive at the same time,” Justina nodded, “always born beneath the same moon.” Her expression grew grave for a moment, and she paused, before continuing, “What my mother tried to do, others will try as well. You’re worth more than empires, Brandon, and powerful people will seek you out if it becomes known that the gods have returned. None of the other three have yet been discovered, or if they have, whoever owns them is keeping a very tight lid on it.”

“If I’m as powerful as you imply,” I said, “how could anyone ‘own’ one of us?”

“You’re still young and weak,” Justina replied, “Mom almost had you, but there are many ways to control a person. Seduction, manipulation, torture, you name it,” Justina stared levelly at me, “you’re still a person, Brandon. These people who would seek to control you, they’d find a way to get to you. They’d offer you immeasurable wealth, or they’d take your family hostage, or they’d capture you while you’re still in your infancy, and torture you until your mind breaks.”

I felt a shiver run through me.

“The only way to protect yourself, is to grow stronger.” Justina said, “You need to practice your craft in secrecy, you need to find allies who will not betray you, and you need to guard those who love you. But most of all, Brandon; you need to find the other two.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because if The Three are set upon each other,” Justina said, “the result is apocalyptic. In the past, society surged forward when The Three stood together, and collapsed when they fought. We need to find the other two and get them to safety and secrecy, or those with ambition will claim them for their own ends, and make enemies of you.”

“How can I trust you?” I asked Justina, narrowing my eyes, “How do I know you’re not one of these ambitious people?”

“Because I know everything there is to know about her,” Angela spoke from Justina’s mouth, eyes turning blue, “and though she’s a dirty, nasty little girl, Justina is a good person.”

“Your sister and I have no secrets,” Justina said, eyes turning violet, “our thoughts, intentions and emotions are one.”

“Psst, Brandon,” Angela said conspiratorially, her blue eyes twinkling in Justina’s face, “Justina really wants to fuck you. Just don’t let her do it while I’m in here!”

“I’m more than a little curious,” Justina confirmed, winking a violet eye, “but we’ll shelve that thought for the time being; you don’t need two useless women groveling at your feet.”

“She’s still a virgin!” Angela giggled, coming back to Justina’s face, “Her only sexual experiences have been with her mother!”

“Not just my mother,” Justina chuckled, eyes turning violet and rolling up, as though she were addressing her own forehead, “you and I had some fun, didn’t we?”

“Oh yeah,” Angela laughed girlishly, her awkward, nervous composure contrasting Justina’s naturally dignified grace, “I might be a lesbian; I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ll shop around a bit,” Justina said, violet eyes addressing her forehead again, “find a strapping young lad in Drastin, and see if your preferences change.”

“Only if your mommy ever lets you feed yourself.” Angela sniggered, eyes turning blue, “You better warn me next time you decide to share dinner with her. I don’t want to be anywhere near that.”

“Drastin?” I asked, butting-in to the conversation, “Why are we going to Drastin?”

“Mom has connections there,” Justina said, violet eyes casting toward me, “people who know how to be discreet, people who have information that few others have.” Justina glanced downward at Tera, who was still prostrating beneath me, “You should probably release her; she won’t be of much use to you if she’s constantly on her knees.”

“I don’t know,” I smirked at Justina, “I kind of like her like this.”

“Have your fun with her for the rest of the night,” Justina sighed, “she deserves that much for what she tried to do to you, but release her in the morning.”

“How do I do that?” I asked.

“Just tell her she’s free,” Justina replied, “she’ll beg you to keep her, but you just have to insist, and eventually, she’ll leave your service.”

Justina stood up and walked to the door, but stopped before she passed the threshold.

“You’ll need to protect your parents,” she said to me, “Angela tells me they won’t believe the truth, so here’s a convenient lie: you took a loan from slavers, and you put your parents lives up as collateral. Tell them that if strange men come to Towerhead, to hide in this house. No one would suspect to look in a succubus hovel.”

“They’ll hate me.” I replied.

“But they’ll live.” Justina said, and then looked down at her groveling mother, “Don’t be too rough with her; we’ll be doing a lot of walking, and we can’t have her limping the whole way.”

Justina gave me a parting smile and a wink, and then left the room. I sighed, and then turned my attention to the beautiful, tan monster worshipping me by the side of the bed.

“Tera,” I smiled down at her, lifting her chin with my hand, “come pay homage to your god.”

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Chapter Two: The Heat Bringer

JULIA

Sixteen years ago, the mystic came to the elven capital of Terondia, and with him, came a shadow that darkened the empire. The matrons of The Church of the Holy Mother tried to bar him entrance, they tried to denounce him, but the emperor waved them away; the mystic’s prophecy was too tempting to disbelieve. The old man stood in the great hall before the horrified eyes of the matrons, the scrutinizing eyes of the wizards, and the greedy eyes of the emperor, and he spoke his heresy.

“A Creator of elven blood will be born this night.” the mystic had said, “She will be of the pure blood, and she will be the Heat Bringer.”

Then, he died. The matrons claimed his death was divine punishment, the wizards claimed it was an enchantment of astral power, but the emperor saw it as proof of the man’s prophecy. What would a man have to gain for such heresy, if he were to die after it was told? Clearly, the emperor postulated, the man’s prophecy was his very life force, and its release marked it as truth. At first, a census was taken of all babes born on that night. Only high-elf babes were catalogued, as the ‘pure blood’ no doubt meant those of porcelain skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. Dark elves had bloodlines mixed with orcs, bright elves had bloodlines mixed with dwarves, and dawn elves had bloodlines mixed with nymphs, but high elves could trace their lineage back to the days of the old blood. High elves were once again reassured of their superiority (of course a returned god would be of high blood; pure blood), and the world went on as it usually did.

Five years later, the emperor took the children. Seven-hundred daughters of high blood were stripped from their mother’s arms, and sent to Terondia, to live in the palace. The families were assured that their sacrifice was for the good of the empire, that their reward would be bountiful, and their children well cared for, but they were never allowed to see their daughters again. Whispers started breathing through the populace, rumors of the horrors that must have occurred behind the palace’s stone walls. The emperor became more secluded, and the government became less responsive. Riots broke out, markets crashed, and people took to the streets to demand answers. The response they were given, was violence. Police forces smashed into the protestors, people were seized in the dark, and curfews were placed indefinitely. The brutality quelled the dissenters, and the elven empire came to the sinking realization that they were ruled by a tyrant.

But I was safe. I was of bright blood; my crimson, straight hair, green eyes and shorter stature marked me as impure, at least in the eyes of the emperor. He couldn’t know that the mystic’s prophecy meant those descendant from the line of the dwarven Creator, Arbitrus Gen. At least, that’s what I’ve told myself every night, when I lie awake listening for the sounds of police bootsteps outside my window.

“Sister Julia?” Mother Septina called. I sighed and closed my book.

“Yes, Mother Septina?” I called back from the kitchen, hiding the book beneath a pile of napkins.

“The princess would like to speak with you.” Mother Septina responded, thankfully not coming into the kitchen to snoop around. I slipped the book beneath my habit and walked briskly past the ornery mother. A flight of steps later, and I was on the top floor of the estate, and knocking on the door of my princess.

“Come in, Sister.” Princess Lucilla Flitari called. I opened the door with my head bowed, and closed it silently behind me. Princess Flitari stood in the window; her statuesque, elegant frame curving in a subtle hourglass figure beneath a silken dress, her platinum blonde hair lying straight behind her pointed ears, and her blue eyes sparkling from the porcelain mask of her beautiful face. She smiled brightly to me, and after I scanned the room for anyone else, I smiled back.

“What do you think of this dress?” she asked, twirling extravagantly in front of me.

“It looks perfect, of course, Your Grace,” I smiled politely, “if you’re intention is to be with child before the night is out.”

“Maybe that is my intention,” Lucilla smirked, extending a perfectly formed leg from the slit cut alongside her dress, and raising an eyebrow, “though, I must be terribly bad at it, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get pregnant.”

“Your chastity is holy, Your Grace,” I replied, “it is good to hear that my teachings have not fallen on deaf ears.”

“No one’s listening, Julia,” Lucilla said with a wry smile, “you can cut the shit.”

“Well then, Lucilla,” I said, allowing my smile to grow wicked, and dropping the formality of her title, “I’d say that your fertility problem lies in a lack of biological understanding.”

“And why’s that?” Lucilla asked.

“One cannot conceive a child from her anus.” I grinned.

Lucilla twisted her face, and then burst out laughing. She gestured for me to sit as she fought to regain control of herself.

“Oh, sweet Mother,” Lucilla croaked as she sat across from me, wiping tears from her eyes, “it never ceases to amaze me what dirty thoughts go through that pure mind of yours.”

“Devotion to the Holy Mother is a testament of one’s actions,” I replied, pouring wine in her glass, and water in mine, “thoughts and words are of little consequence.”

“I wish the other sisters shared your interpretation of the texts.” Lucilla said as she took a sip of wine, “All I get from them is judgement and lectures.”

“You are a reflection of our order,” I said, drinking my water in congruence with her sips, “and your reputation does not make us look good.”

“The Holy Mother herself could shine on me from the heavens, and I’d still drink, smoke and fuck my way through life,” Lucilla smiled, wiping purple wine from her lush lips, “your order just pulled the short straw in terms of princesses.”

“At least you’re not boring,” I said, “not a day goes by when you haven’t presented us with a new crisis of faith.”

“And yet, you pour me wine,” Lucilla pointed out, “my own priestess, tempting me with sin.”

“Of all your sins, Lucilla,” I said, pouring her another glass and smirking, “consumption is the least of our problems.”

“But doesn’t it lower my inhibitions?” Lucilla responded with a raised eyebrow, “Doesn’t wine lead to more nefarious sins?”

“It’s a question of timing, really,” I said, sitting back, “if you drink four glasses now, you’re likely to be too tired to go out tonight, but if you wait until this evening, the wine will compel you to act on your baser desires. You see, I’m suffering a minor sin now, to prevent a major sin later.”

“How tactful of you,” Lucilla chuckled, “you will do well as my advisor in the High Court.”

I felt my heart leap into my chest. The High Court? Of Terondia?! That’s the last place I can go!

“What was that, Your Grace?” I asked.

“‘Your Grace,’ hmm?” Lucilla smiled knowingly, “Funny how decorum comes roaring back once a little discomfort is salted into the conversation. Why do you hate that place so much?”

“It’s far from home,” I lied, “and my charge is here, with you.”

“Well, I won’t be here,” Lucilla said, “I’m leaving for Terondia this afternoon.”

“I don’t see why I should come with you,” I replied, “there are sisters in the capital who are more than willing to preach and lecture for you.”

“I’m not coming back, Julia,” Lucilla said, and her usual playful nature diminished, “I’m moving there permanently.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, unable to keep my composure.

“My father has executed Telavia,” Lucilla said gravely, “she betrayed the crown… somehow.”

“He killed your sister?” I whispered, putting my hand on hers.

“She was a traitor,” Lucilla said, keeping her lip stiff, “and she was my half-sister, Julia; we barely knew each other. But, the act reshuffles the line of succession. I’m third in line to the throne now, which means I’m too important to be governing estates in the country.”

“‘Governing’ is an interesting word for what you do here.” I said with a sad smile. Lucilla laughed a joyless, dry laugh. Her hands were shaking.

“I know I’m not the most responsible of royalty,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “but maybe I can fake it. Maybe, if I just… if I just…”

Lucilla gripped my hand tighter, and took a huge gulp of wine to steel herself. It didn’t work. Her face fell into my chest, and she bawled.

“I’m so fucking scared, Julia,” she sobbed, “I’m not ready for this! Father is demanding my assistance with his mad project! He killed Telavia because she wasn’t getting results; his own daughter! And now he wants me to take her place?! She’d been working with him for two years, and I haven’t so much as read a book on the subject!”

“You’ll do fine,” I whispered, petting her hair and trying to calm her, as much as I was trying to calm myself, “you’ll just have to be careful.”

“He’s insane, Julia!” Lucilla cried, “They say he hasn’t been seen for two years, that he spends his life in the palace with those girls he stole, that he rants and raves about the prophecy, trying to figure out why a lie told by an old man didn’t come true!”

But it did come true, I thought, the mystic’s words were more prophetic than anything spoken by the matrons, and now the prize the emperor has sought will be traveling right to his front door.

“I am so fucked,” Lucilla whimpered in my lap, “Father will blame me for his own failures, and they’ll put my head on a-”

She stopped as her hand found the hard spot below my habit. Her fingers reached around it, and clutched the outline of the book’s spine.

“What is this?” she asked, pulling the book from the pouch sewn to my habit.

“A little piece of sacrilege I was trying to hide from the mother.” I replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. Lucilla read the title aloud.

“A Journal of Arbitrus Gen,” Lucilla said, looking from the book, to me, “This is a juicy piece of blasphemy. Why are you reading it?”

“To ease the monotony,” I replied, “holy texts are wonderful, but they don’t offer much in the way of entertainment.”

“And histories of dead Creators do?” Lucilla asked.

“Sometimes,” I smiled, taking the book from Lucilla’s hands, “reading about what actually happened is a nice reprieve from reading about what might’ve happened.”

“Sister Julia!” Lucilla gasped, “That is bordering on heresy!”

“It’s no worse than the things you do on a nightly basis.” I smirked, crinkling my nose at my best friend. Lucilla’s smile shined on her face, and I was relieved for two reasons. The first, was that she wouldn’t question me further, and the second, was that the terror in her eyes vanished for a moment. I never wanted to see that look in her eyes again, but I suspected it would become commonplace in Terondia. I knew, deep down, that the darker days were just around the corner.

LUCILLA

It had been three weeks since Julia, myself, and a host of guards and servants had left the estate for Terondia, and I was freezing my fucking ass off. Whatever genius founded Terondia should’ve been taken behind a barn and shot. From the south, the city is incredibly easy to get to. Tributaries, lakes and flat plains make for simple travel, but from the north, it’s damn near unreachable. We climbed mountain after mountain, sometimes having to stop for hours to replace the carriage wheels with sled blades, and the whole time, the whole fucking time, I froze my ass off.

Julia’s blasphemous interest in dead Creators proved to be an invaluable tool, and she took the opportunity to give me a crash-course on all the things I should’ve already learned. I remembered a time when Julia was just a little redhead with a penchant for mischief. Now, she was lecturing me like I was a child, even though I was two years her senior. Why she chose to become a nun, I’ll never know, but ever since she took her vows, she’s been the adult between us. Sure, I had sex plenty of times, and she was a virgin (and would be until she died), but the maturation of experience and the maturation of the soul are two different things. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without her, and that’s why I decided she was going to be glued to my side the whole time we were in Terondia.

“Oh, good Mother.” Julia gasped as she looked out the window. We were carefully sliding down a glacier pass, and descending into a wide, green valley. Three thousand feet below the tree-line, sprawled a massive city. Terondia was a poorly placed city, but it was a magnificent one. The entire city was built on an uplift of rock that sprouted just before the mountain range. It seemed to swell from the earth in spiraling streets and buildings, all of which led inevitably to the five-hundred-foot spire at its peak, that marked the beacon tower of the palace. That would be my home now; probably forever. Though I dreaded the prospect of living there, the idea of a warm hearth and hot cocoa was very enticing. Julia however, did not seem to mind the cold at all. I swear, I didn’t see her breath fog the glass even once. Being a bright-elf meant that at least one of her ancestors had to be a dwarf, so that probably explained her comfort in the cold, but it didn’t stop me from being slightly irritated at her. In my humble opinion, if I’m uncomfortable, everyone else should be too.

We switched the sleigh blades to wheels, and then rolled briskly down the mountain pass to the city’s center. Before long, we were bustled through the palace gates; massive stone blocks that opened and closed with agonizing slowness. The moment the gates shut behind us, I finally saw the discomfort on Julia’s face. I felt bad for her, but I smiled inwardly. Finally, someone as uncomfortable as me. From there, we endured a modest procession, and then were briskly taken to the throne room. My father was of course, not present for my arrival. The man was more of a stranger to me than the bartender at the local tavern (although, few people knew me better than he), and he hadn’t even corresponded with me since I left for the estate twelve years ago, when I was six.

“Princess Lucilla Flitari,” one of my father’s advisor said to me, standing in front of the vacant throne, “thank you for your spirited arrival. His Highness is waiting for you in the keep.”

“He wants to see me?” I asked, feeling my breath catch in my throat, “Now?!”

“Of course,” the adviser said, looking very amused at my distress, “you’re his daughter. You can leave your priestess with us, and we’ll escort her to your quarters.”

“No.” I said firmly, “She goes where I go.”

“Your Grace,” Julia whispered behind me, “I don’t think that’s-”

“Women of the church have been banned from the palace keep,” the adviser said, “His Highness’s orders are final.”

“Your Grace,” Julia whispered again, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But I won’t be!” I hissed back, “I fucking need you, Julia!”

“You’re a strong woman, Lucilla,” Julia whispered, giving me an apologetic smile, “you will find a way.”

Julia actually looked relieved that she didn’t have to go. I couldn’t blame her, but once again, I was mad that she wasn’t going to be sharing in my discomfort. I gave her a parting scowl, and then followed my escort to the keep. They were two heavily armored guards, both of dark blood. Of all the races of elves, dark elves were the most different. Their bronze skin, black hair, and dark, brown eyes distinguished them from the porcelain skin, blue eyes, and platinum hair of high elves, the pale skin, green eyes, and red hair of bright elves, and the tan skin, hazel eyes, and golden hair of dawn elves. Not only that, but they stood several inches taller than high elves, the next tallest race, and were of much stockier build. They still bore the fair features and pointed ears of all elves, but there was a fearsomeness about them that made them excellent soldiers.

“We’re going to be your guards from here on out,” one of them said to me, oddly not addressing me by my honorific, “I’m Drask, and this is Malek; don’t try to talk to him, he doesn’t speak.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“He gets attached to the people he’s charged to protect.” Drask explained.

“And that’s a bad thing… why?” I asked.

“You’re to be the emperor’s assistant,” Drask said, “so to be honest, Your Grace, we’re not really expecting this to be a long-term relationship.”

“Oh,” I muttered, feeling a chill crawl up my spine, “I see.”

“If you want my advice,” Drask said, “just do what he says. Telavia started screaming about how his whole project was bullshit, and look where that got her. Just put on a smile, and say ‘yes, sir,’ no matter what he asks of you.”

Drask stopped at the door to the keep, and then turned to face me, a stern expression on his face.

“Let me see your poker-face, Princess.” He said.

“My what?” I asked.

“Show me the face you give ambassadors and merchants when they insult you,” Drask said, “that face that says: ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.’ You’re going to need that face in there.”

“I… don’t have that face,” I said nervously, entwining my fingers together, “I’ve never actually dealt with ambassadors or merchants.”

Drask snorted.

“Well, you’re fucked.” He said frankly.

“Yeah,” I sighed, not caring any longer about this man’s lack of propriety, “I am.”

“At least you know it,” Drask said, and then opened the door, “try not to scream.”

I walked through the door, and barely held the shriek that bulged in my throat. Moans and screams assaulted my ears in a chorus of depravity. The pale, fine skin of high-elf women mingled with the dark-green flesh of orc. Their bodies were strewn about an expansive floor; gyrating in debauched motions, wriggling in perverse heaves and bending in rows of arching backs. The platinum strands of elven hair flailed wildly as their bearers were taken in every which way. It seemed that not a hole was left unfilled. Each woman was stuffed to capacity, some with multiple men in a single hole, all of them occupied mercilessly. The woman nearest to me was bent over; an orc beneath her, an orc behind her, and an orc in front of her. She writhed between the men taking her ass and pussy, shifting to some dance of depravity whose cadence she could only hear. She watched me with unseeing, glazed-over eyes as she took the orc in front of her all the way down her throat. Her occupied mouth permeated with soft gurgles and gags, and though she looked to be in discomfort, she also seemed to be entranced in a euphoria too great for her mind to take. They thrusted harder and harder into her, and she only seemed to move with greater fervency. In and out, in an out; the cocks piercing her were slick with the nectar of her arousal, and the secretion of her mouth. Faster and faster; her body began to ripple; her breasts flailing beneath her, her ass jiggling with the impact of the orc sodomizing her, her thighs quivering in abject pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she uttered a primal, desperate scream as the thrusts reached their peak. Her back dove into a violent arch, her breasts jutted forward, her hips shot backward, and then she came. She came in a toe-curling, leg-trembling display of vulgar lust the likes of which I’d never seen. The men came as well, and the woman ravenously drank the seed of the one in her throat as the viscous, white fluid leaked from the gaping holes behind her. I was terrified; terrified, and aroused. Thinking about her pleasure, thinking about how it must feel to be so well filled, to be so thoroughly taken that you’re no longer a person, but a debased object with a singular purpose: to come. To come, and to please those that make you come.

“Lucilla!” A cheerful voice sounded from above, “So glad you could make it. Please, come up here.”

I looked up to the balcony, and saw my father for the first time in over a decade. He was haggard, with an untamed beard and hair well past his shoulders, but he still looked like the man I remembered. I ascended the steps to the balcony, pulling my dress up to keep the skirt from trailing in the sexual filth that littered the floor. Father was in a heated discussion with two of his assistants, who he dismissed once I reached the top step.

“Your locker is on the far wall,” Father said, reading something on his desk and not looking up at me, “you’ll find a habit and a pair of slippers in there; I suspect you don’t want to ruin your fine clothing.”

I stared at him for a moment. Nice to see you too, Dad. I guess we’re just going to pretend that what I walked into is completely normal. I remembered Drask’s words: poker-face. This man is insane, and I’m treading on dangerous ground. I walked over to the open locker, took off my stiletto heels, and threw on the habit and slippers. This is what Julia wears every day, I mused, looking down at the formless clothing, it’s so boring! No one can see my curves, or my cleavage! I shook the vain thought from my head, and then approached Father. I stood behind him with my hands clasped in front of me, waiting for whatever it was he needed.

“Glatian!” Father called to one of his assistant, “What is Sara doing?”

“Which one is Sara, your Highness?” the assistant asked.

“Three-twenty-seven,” Father said, “you really should know their names by now. What is she doing?”

“She says she has cramps, your highness,” the assistant said, “she’s going to the sauna to warm her muscles.”

“No,” Father insisted, “tell her we’re sorry, but she still has to finish. Give her water for the cramps.”

The assistant bustled off, leaving Father alone with me.

“You’re rumored to be quite the hedonist, Lucilla,” Father said, still watching the debauchery below with a studious expression, “tell me, what would you change?”

“I… uh…” I started, “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“You have a reputation of getting drunk, using narcotics, and engaging in rampant sexual activity.” Father said in a very matter-of-fact way, “So, given your penchant for the carnal things in life, I’d like to know what you’d change to get the results I’m looking for.”

There wasn’t any judgement in his tone, and there was no way I was going to lie to him about something he obviously deemed trivial. It was apparent that Father would not suffer fools, and I did not want to prove myself as such. I sifted through my mind, recalling Julia’s lessons in the carriage.

“You’re trying to trigger an extreme-pleasure response.” I said, and Father nodded.

“We hired a succubus to design this,” Father said, “she insisted that orcs would be best. They are a vigorous lot, and at first, the women seemed to be only in pain, but after a while, they adapted. In post-experimental surveys, the subjects gave the orcs resounding reviews. They look like they’re in states of extreme pleasure, but still, not a single woman has shown herself to be what we’re looking for. We must be doing something wrong.”

Father slid a thick ledger over to me.

“These are all of the experiments we’ve conducted,” he said, “maybe an untrained eye can spot what we’re missing.”

I opened the book, and as I read through it, my jaw dropped lower and lower. These women had been through the gauntlet. Some of the experiments were designed to incorporate both extreme pleasure and extreme stress, and I noted in horror that the most perverse of these was designed by none other than my dearly-departed half-sister. It seemed that she had tried desperately to get the results Father wanted, but of course, the results never came. I felt a chill run up my spine. How long before he decides I’m useless? Will he kill me, or just send me away?

“It looks like your experiments so far have been very… extensive,” I replied, flipping through the pages and taking mental notes on some of the acts for later experimentation of my own, “I’m afraid I don’t have any insight I can provide. I just don’t have the experience.”

“Well,” Father said, still shuffling through his notes, “then go down there and get the experience.”

“What?!” I nearly screamed.

“Go down there,” Father smiled as he pulled the ledger from my hands, “and get the experience you feel you need.”

The way he smiled was almost paternal, but not quite. It was the kind of smile someone gives you when they’re disguising an order as a request. It was not the kind of smile I could refuse. Tevalia’s head was on a spike because she didn’t recognize the danger in that smile.

“I…” I said, swallowing, not believing what I was about to do, “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Father said, the danger leaving his smile, “When you’re done with that, you can leave for today; I suspect you’ll be of little use to me afterward.”

Father turned away, looking through his notes, trying to find the reason nothing was working. Because it was a lie by an old man, you insane fool! I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned from him, and walked down the steps, into the debauchery below.

I stared blankly at the scene before me, with no idea where to start. Do I just… jump in? I thought, Or do I pick some orcs from a lineup? How much control do I have? God, those things are huge; how do those women get them to fit?!

“Hey,” A female voice said from behind me, “we’re out of wine over here, could you give us a refill?”

I turned, and saw a group of beautiful, sixteen-year-old high elves chatting with a robust group of orcs at a table. They were all smoking, drinking and laughing, as if the hellish debauchery surrounding them were nothing but a picnic. And I supposed, for these girls it probably was.

“I’m not a steward,” I said, more than a little intimidated by the women, whose nonchalant nakedness and easy smiles put my sexual confidence to shame, “I’m a princess.”

“Nice to meet you, Your Grace,” the woman smiled and shook her empty glass, “now, could we get some more wine?”

“I’m not here to serve you!” I said, lifting my chin with a touch of royal indignation, “I’m here to… to…” I dropped my head and sighed, “can one of you tell me how this works? Father says I need experience.”

“Oh, virgin blood!” the girl exclaimed happily.

“I’m not a virgin.” I said.

“Yeah, you are,” the woman smiled, punching out her cigarette and walking toward me, “I don’t care how many princelings or farm boys you’ve fucked, Princess, in here, you’re a virgin.”

She strutted around me, assessing me. I felt like an idiot being the only girl wearing clothing, so I pulled off my habit, and kicked off my slippers. The girl touched me on the shoulder before I could take off my dress.

“Leave that on,” she said, her voice a sultry fry, her eyes studying me, “I want to watch it get torn off you, piece by piece.”

“I didn’t know you were in charge,” I said sternly to the woman, “what’s your name, girl?”

“Sara,” the woman smiled, “and yours?”

“Lucilla,” I said, aware that honorific titles meant nothing here, “how are your cramps, Sara?”

“Oh, they’re much better now,” she smirked, “I didn’t even need the water; Bron just fucked them out of me.”

I laughed at that. It was nice for change, to talk with women who didn’t lecture me on my behavior, or speak to me like I was a child. For once, I wasn’t the whore of the room. Actually, I was probably a prim maiden compared to these girls. I let my pride fall, and put myself in a pupil’s role to the women and orcs who would be my teachers. There was no use in clinging to titles and decorum here; I was a novice, and needed experience.

“I have to admit,” I said to Sara with a nervous smile, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s obvious,” Sara chuckled, taking my arm, “I’ll be your coach for today, Lucilla. You just do what I say, and you’ll get all the experience you need.”

She walked me to the table, and then patted an empty bench. I sat down, and she gently guided my hands to the edge of the tabletop.

“You’re going to need to hold on to something,” she winked, and then began to pull up my dress from behind me, “have you ever done anything back here?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling my heart flutter as my dress was pulled past my hips, exposing my supple, naked backside, “many times, to avoid pregnancy.”

“Oh?” Sara cooed in a drawn-out sound that was almost a moan, “Maybe I underestimated you, Lucilla. Do you like it in the ass?”

“Yes.” I grinned back.

“Perfect,” she whispered, “then I don’t need to stretch you out.”

Two, strong, green hands grabbed my shoulders, and a pain the likes of which I’ve never felt before screamed into my rectum. My eyes flashed open and trembled in their sockets, my knuckles turned white against the table’s edge, and my mouth gaped wide, but no sound came out. My back curved into an arch so deep it hurt, but it was all I could do in the wake of the agonizing penetration I was experiencing. My rim expanded and stretched into a tight, pulsing, white circle as the orc’s cock pushed deeper and deeper. The snug, tender flesh within me uncoiled about his advance, and I felt his rigid heat separate me in places I didn’t know existed. He throbbed in the tightest reaches of my sinful hole, his pulse drumming against my thin, inner-flesh, adding a second heartbeat to my own. Finally, his pelvis met the supple fat of my backside, and he held me there, forcing me to accept his brutal invasion.

“It’s quite the sensation, isn’t it?” Sara whispered, her breathing heavy in my ear, “To take an orc into your ass for the first time? I wish I could experience it again; the pain is just so…perfect.”

I found my voice, and the sound that came from my chest was not a sound I’d ever made before. A shrill, animalistic scream erupted from my gaping lips, and Sara clapped her hands and giggled. She pulled down the bodice of my dress, and my medium-sized bust flew out in a jiggle of pale flesh. She pinched her thumbs and fingers about my erect nipples, and slowly started pulling them forward, and rolling them between her digits.

“Your older sister made that same face,” she smiled as the orc began to pull, “I liked Telavia; I wonder why she left?”

The orc’s girth pulled my anal skin out with his retreat. I could feel myself exiting my own body in a sheath of ruined, pink flesh. My scream grew higher, but it wasn’t because it hurt. I was still in agony, but the feeling of him turning me inside-out was such a… foreign, deep feeling. The pressure inside me subsided as my insides relaxed to their former positions, and I could feel air sinking coolly into the prolapsed bud that clung like a vice to his cock. There was a tingling, aching pleasure that permeated from my emptied rectum, and a… a hunger within my vacant channel. My scream subsided on my lips, and I looked up to Sara through teary-eyes, and smiled. She smiled back, knowing what I was experiencing, and twisted my nipples just a bit harder. A moan escaped me, and I twitched my ass, looking backward at the well-muscled monster lining up his next shot. He pushed into me, harder than before, and I screamed in delight and agony as my insides were filled again. It felt like he was forcing my innards back into me, but despite the invasive nature of the sensation, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was, in fact, euphoric. My body was propelled upward; the backs of my hands colliding with my ribs, my arms bending sharply at the elbow, my breasts bursting from above the table, and my ass lifting off the seat, where strings of glistening nectar snapped from my leaking pussy.

My screams of agony became moans of pleasure became screams of ecstasy. I’d never been taken so deeply, so violently, so beautifully. He treated me like a piece of meat, like a baseless slut with no humanity, and I reveled in it. I’m just your little, anal whore, I thought, GAAH, fuck me like the worthless cunt I am! Then I wondered why I would keep those thoughts to myself, so I vocalized them, encouraging him to fuck me harder.

“My, my, my, Princess,” Sara laughed, twisting my nipples with malice, “those are not words royalty should be saying.”

I clung to the edge of the table as my body shook with the fervent blasts of his lust. His cock scorched through me, and then abruptly stopped as his pelvis smacked into my ass. The porcelain canvas of my backside was marred with the red impact of his pelvis, the pristine complexion of my face was flushed with my exertion, and the tender flesh of my breasts was pulled by Sara’s calm, yet sadistic pinches. God, it was good, better than anything I’d ever had, and it only got better. The orc picked me up by the hips, his cock still throbbing in my desecrated anus, and then grabbed me by the underside of my thighs, and spread me wide. Another beast approached, his massive, engorged member swaying from between his muscled quads. My eyes widened in fear and arousal, and I simultaneously beckoned him forward as I cringed for what was to come. The orc in my ass stopped thrusting, and my new partner aimed his shot. He grinned at me; the tusks protruding from his lower lips gleaming, his black eyes shining, and his nostrils flaring like a bull in heat. I smiled weakly back; the vulnerability and apprehensiveness mixing with the carnal hunger. He teased me with his tip; separating my tender petals with a girth I doubted would ever fit. His heat brushed through me, and my need grew. My body shifted on its own about the man impaling me, and I moaned a pleading tone. I no longer cared if it would hurt, I no longer cared if it would break me, I just needed it inside me; needed it more than anything. He stopped his teasing, his cock glistening with the sheen of my lust, and he pushed inside.

My legs stretched to lateral splits, my back arched behind me, my shoulders pinched back, and my neck striated with tension as I tilted my face skyward to yield a scream. My dress hiked past my hips, the slits on the sides draping about my exposed thighs and the trail of my skirt soaked with the secretion of my violation. My heart thundered in my chest as I felt the greatest pleasure I’d ever known. Deep, stretching, piercing penetration; the cocks inside me pressing along the fleshy division of my channels, rubbing mercilessly through every nerve-covered expanse of lewd flesh within me. They thrusted in unison, lifting me between them and then dropping me, impaling me with their rigid heat and mercilessly exploiting every inch my body had to offer. My violation was so complete, so filling, so perfect. It hurt in all the right ways; separating my vulnerable insides and ramming through them with vicious intent. I screamed higher and higher, louder and louder as my body shifted up and down, flailing and jiggling, writhing and squirming. I clasped my fingers together behind the neck of the orc sodomizing me, and danced a possessed gyration; my abdomen flexing in waves, my breast jutting outward and then falling, jiggling to the cadence of our fervent samba. My dress was torn and darkening with the strain of sex, my body was moving in simple reaction to the feeling, and my mind was clouding, drifting in haze of lust. Focused thought gave way to transient inklings, and I lost myself for a blissful, euphoric moment.

It started as a weakness; a wonderful, disarming feeling that left me incapacitated, and gelatinous. The sensation slowly changed, becoming something more primal, more… violent. It churned in me; boiling in my desecrated nethers and simmering its heat into my pelvis. The feeling expanded, rushing into my abdomen, scorching into my chest, leaving me breathless, gasping, trying to find a voice that was no longer there. It compelled me to move, to shift, to clench. My body tensed as the feeling built and built, ballooning from the center of my defilement and radiating its electric pleasure into every extremity that bore nerves. It roiled through me until I could take no more, and then it burst. The cathartic release washed over me, and my scream sung out high and clear as my back wrenched into an arch that touched my shoulders to one man, and my navel to the next. I bent myself backward in the wake of my euphoria, and I squirted the final note to my debauched symphony. The orcs erupted into my depths, sending their viscous lava into the ruined caverns of my body. It seeped into my colon, and burned its wonderful heat into my open womb.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit!” I stammered when language reentered my brain. They pulled out of me, and my ass prolapsed in a wonderfully exhausted ruin. My pussy didn’t fare much better, but at least it stayed inside me. Hot, white seed leaked from my violated holes, and dripped freely from my body, and onto the floor below. Sara helpfully pushed my ass back inside me, and a shiver of residual pleasure shot up my spine. I turned to her, matching her gaze. Then, I was kissed by another woman for the first time in my life. Sara’s lips were sweet and lush, and her tongue was gentle and playful. I found my eyes drooping in bliss, and my hand entangling in her platinum strands. As I drank the woman in, my mind drifted, and for some reason, my thoughts went to Julia.

JULIA

A single, blue flame danced in the palm of my hand. I focused on it, trying to keep it small and manageable, trying to keep my emotions in check. I was a devout servant of the Holy Mother, but that was only half the reason I was a nun. Nuns live a sanguine life of moderation, nuns live a life of humble service, nuns live a life without passion or lust. Nuns experience neither extreme pleasure, nor extreme stress; perfect for a Creator in denial. The flame dwindled in my palm, becoming a sapphire ember. Terondia was a place of terror and anger, and would test the limits of my resolve. I had avoided traveling into the keep, but I was still just a few footfalls from the heart of the beast. There was something I’d been avoiding that I could no longer. I would have to face it now, lest it consume me at a dangerous time, and dangerous times were upon me. I took a deep breath, and the flame became nothing but a spark.

Daddy’s screaming at Mommy. She did something bad, but I don’t know what. I run to them, trying to get them to step yelling. Daddy pushes me aside, and Mommy screams at him. He hits her. She falls to the ground in a flail of crimson hair. He’s screaming at her, and she’s crying, sobbing on the floor, saying she’s sorry. He kicks her, still screaming, his face as red as his hair, his eyes bulging. She’s shrieking on the floor, curling up, trying to protect herself, but he just keeps kicking! Someone else is screaming; a high, shrill sound. It’s coming from me. Blue flames, tendrils of heat, coiling in the air, surrounding me. I’m on fire! I’m not burning, I’m not on fire… I am the fire! An uncontrolled blaze, an inferno of fear pouring from my heart and blasting from my skin. They’re screaming, shrieking, blackening. They’re rolling in agony, but I can’t stop! I can’t stop! I CAN’T STOP!

My eyes flashed open, but my heart stayed calm. The flame in my hand had flared a bit, but not too much. There had been a time when the memory consumed me, and I had to dive into the nearest well, lake or river to conceal my nature. If a body of water was not available when a fit came, I would run to the quarry and hide in the caves. People thought I was crazy, but Lucilla just thought it was funny. Her estate housed the orphanage for the rural province, and she always wanted to hang out with the unfortunate children. To her, we were the cool kids, and the young lords and ladies she was supposed to socialize with were boring. She took an especial liking to me, mostly due to my crazy antics, and we’d been best friends ever since. I heard footsteps down the hallway, and I extinguished the flame in my hand.

Lucilla walked into the room, looking like she’d spent the afternoon in a tornado. Her platinum hair was a frizzled mess, her pale cheeks were flushed, her makeup was smeared, and her dress was torn in multiple places. She limped her way into the room with a goofy smile strewn across her lips.

“Sister Julia,” she said tiredly, “if you would be so kind, could you draw me up a bath?”

“Good Mother,” I gasped, “what happened to you?!”

“I accepted a job position as assistant director of the Creator Project,” Lucilla said, flopping on the bed and kicking off her shoes, “and the interviewing process was incredibly rigorous.”

I shuffled over to the tub and turned on the water, adding fragrances and soaps to the basin before moving to assist Lucilla. She sat upright, and I undid the buttons on her dress, noting the sucking marks on her neck, the bruises on her back, and the hand prints on her thighs. My first instinct was to worry, but then I saw the satisfied grin strewn across her lips.

“I think you have quite the confession to give me,” I mused with a sly smile, “your sins are painted across your body.”

“Bless me Sister, for I have strayed from the Mother’s path.” Lucilla said as the tattered remains of her dress fell off her naked back.

“Bare your sins upon me, so that I may ease the burden on your soul.” I recited, helping her to her feet and walking her to the bath, “Now, give me all the juicy details.”

I washed my princess as she recited the day’s events. My eyes grew wider with each passing detail, and I interrupted her several times to say a prayer for her damned soul, before excitedly beckoning for her to continue.

“Orcs?” I hissed, a giggle mixing in my horror, “You laid with beasts?!”

“Two of them.” Lucilla smiled up at my shocked face.

“Holy Mother, protect this wicked child,” I recited, drawing a halo over Lucilla’s head, “now, how were they?”

“Amazing,” Lucilla exclaimed, “you know I am not a size-queen, motion of the ocean and all that, but these guys… ho-lee shit. They made an elf-sandwich out of me, and it was absolutely wonderful.”

“That sounds incredibly painful,” I said, lathering her hair with soap, “I don’t know how anyone could possibly enjoy that.”

“We’re not all asexual zealots,” Lucilla smirked at me, “some of us like fun.”

“I am not asexual,” I said, splashing water in her eyes. “just because I made vows doesn’t mean I don’t have desires.”

“Oh?” Lucilla, perked-up, “Well, let’s hear them.”

“Are you sure?” I smiled at her, “Because you can’t unhear them.”

“Oooo,” Lucilla sniggered, “I always suspected they’d be dirty. I have a theory that nuns are the kinkiest bitches; repressed sexuality does strange things to people’s fantasies.”

“My darkest, dirtiest, most depraved fantasy,” I whispered, looking Lucilla in the eyes as I massaged her scalp with fine oils, “is you,” I watched Lucilla’s eyes grow wide, and a devious smile formed on my lips, “married and with children, engaging in a life of humble propriety in service to the Holy Mother.” I laughed as Lucilla’s face fell in disappointment, “It’s terribly perverse, I know. I’ll make sure to pray all night for my depravity.”

“You know what?” Lucilla said, “I’m going to move in with the project girls; you’re too fucking boring.”

“I’m sure you’d be right at home with them.” I smiled.

“Not really,” Lucilla said, “those women are fucking crazy.”

“After all that’s been done to them,” I said somberly, washing her shoulders, “madness is surely the only way to cope with reality.”

“Oh, they’re not insane,” Lucilla said, “they’re just wild. I was expecting tortured, soulless husks who needed help feeding themselves, but they’re not.”

“Did you speak at length with them?” I asked, “How can you be sure they’re not being coerced into complacency?”

“I spoke with one of them,” Lucilla said, “and if she was acting, she was doing a very convincing job of it. She…” Lucilla’s expression changed subtly, and she looked up at me with an inquisitive glance, “she kissed me.”

“And the sins pile on,” I sighed, leaning forward and washing the tops of her breasts, “at this rate, Lucilla you’ll have to spend the rest of your life praying for a chance at forgi-”

Her lips stopped my words. The lush, moist flesh pressed to mine, and traced fire into the tender outline of my mouth. My heart dropped in my chest, and I sat in paralytic shock as her tongue pushed between the crease of our mouths, and tickled my own. A deep, blissful feeling thrummed gently in the back of my skull. It was accompanied by a desire… a hunger whose alluring fulfillment rested upon Lucilla’s lips. I wanted to sate my hunger, to taste the sweet promise that lay in Lucilla’s mouth. I almost did, but my mind came roaring back to me, and I ripped my face from hers as my heart thundered in my throat. The flames that stoked my essence danced within me, begging to light upon my flesh, and I quelled them with all the resolve I could muster.

“Julia?” Lucilla asked, her voice small and scared, “Julia, I’m sorry, I don’t know what-”

“You’re drunk,” I said, eyes still closed, breathing deeply through my nose, pushing down the fire, “I could taste the wine on you. You will finish bathing yourself, and then you will go to bed. Come morning time, we will both pretend this never happened.”

“Julia…”

I stood up, leaving my naked princess alone in the tub. I walked away from her, trying to dull the sharpness of my nerves, trying to quench the flames inside me, trying to stop savoring the taste of her lingering on my tongue. It was my first kiss, it was a sin, it was perverse, and it was wonderful. Forbidden thoughts danced teasingly before my god-fearing complex, singing songs of flesh and moans, inviting me to succumb to them. But no, I would not. It was a sin, it was perverse, it was wonderful, and it was dangerous. My clenched palm shown dully blue between the lines of my pressed fingers, and I opened my hand to reveal the flame that had ignited in my lust. Lucilla didn’t know how close she’d come.

LUCILLA

The next morning was the most awkward of my life. Yeah, I was drunk last night, but not nearly drunk enough to get away with that. It was just… Julia looked so pretty in the fire light. Her green eyes were twinkling, her apple cheeks blushed ruby against her pale complexion, her full, red lips matched the deep passion of her hair, and on top of it all, she was gently washing my breasts. Maybe it was because Sara gave me my first lesbian kiss, and it awoke a part of my sexuality I didn’t know existed. Maybe I wanted to share my lustful revelation with the person I cared most for in this world. Or maybe, I was just drunk and horny. Julia’s a fucking nun for Mother’s sake; what was I thinking?!

As Julia and I silently ate breakfast, I realized this wasn’t just a one-off feeling for me. My eyes lingered on her; the subtle swell of her breasts beneath her habit, the way the cloth narrowed at her waist, and then widened, showing the outline of an ass that she tried oh-so-hard to conceal. She had a body beneath that habit, a body that couldn’t be hidden, even with the formless drape of nun clothing. Had I never noticed it before? Eye contact between us was fleeting and painful, and I quickly finished breakfast and went to the keep. It would take a while before the awkwardness of last night’s mistake was buried.

“Lucilla!” Father said warmly as I entered the large room. It seemed I’d come before today’s debauchery commenced, as he and six of his assistants were the only ones there. As I ascended the steps, I realized that the men surrounding Father were wizards, marked by their bald heads, and the glowing dot between their eyes that signified their bond with an astral being.

“Father.” I nodded curtly.

“I trust the experience you garnered yesterday will prove invaluable,” Father said, sharing notes with the men and signing forms as I approached him, “I think a fresh perspective is what we really need right now. My wizards have found something very exciting, and I’d like your interpretation of it. Let’s be off.”

The wizards stepped away from Father, forming a circle around him with their hands clasped together. Father beckoned me into the circle, and I took a tentative step forward and ducked beneath the joined arms of the mages. I’d never traveled by portal before, and I was more than a little nervous. The wizards’ eyes lit with yellow light, the dots on their foreheads shot beams of power, and a translucent orb grew around us, blinding the world for a moment, before dimming to reveal a new landscape.

We were in a desert, with sand stretching as far as the eye could see in one direction, and an imposing wall of cliffs blocking the sunlight in the other. The wall of sheer cliffs stretched endlessly from horizon to horizon, standing in absolute verticality, before sloping into snow-capped peaks that towered three miles over the flat sand. This was the Gratoran Wall, the natural division between the orc empire of sand, and the dwarven princedom of hills and mountains on the other side. This particular spot would be a nameless, unimportant place, were in not for the landmark that had made this patch of sand and rock one of the most significant locations in the world. A swath of the wall was cut neatly, and perfectly from one peak, to another, splitting the tops of the mountains all the way down to the base. It looked as though someone had taken a knife to the landscape, and had carved out a perfect hallway three miles high, and half a mile wide. The hall was complete with a flat, smooth floor of granite, that ran nine miles between the mountains, connecting orc empire to dwarf princedom. This was the Droktin Pass, named after the orc Earth Former who had created it two millennia ago.

“It is understandable,” Father said, glancing at the geometric gash in the landscape, “why the matrons of the Holy Mother feel so threatened by Creators. This is a tangible act of god, a landmark of true divinity.”

“It is amazing,” I said, gawking at the scene, “but why have you brought me here? This is nothing new.”

“No,” Father said, walking past his wizards and beckoning me to follow, “but this is.”

I stared down at the black rock he was gesturing to.

“You’re confused,” he smiled, reading my expression, “it’s just a piece of obsidian, after all. Interesting that it would be here when the nearest volcano is five-hundred miles away, but still, nothing to take much note of. What about that?” he pointed at another obsidian boulder, larger than the one before, and shaped slightly differently, “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?” Father smiled at my confused face, and then beckoned me to follow him. We passed boulder after boulder of obsidian, each growing larger than the next, each forming a more distinct shape, until we reached a large, perfectly-formed black cube, measuring twenty feet in all dimensions, with a surface so glossy I could see my reflection in it. Protruding from the side of the cube, was a fist made of rock, so perfect in its imitation that not a single carving mark nor chisel scratch could be seen.

“He came here to practice,” Father said, brushing his fingertips along the glassy surface, “maybe he sought inspiration in the shadow of a miracle, or maybe he thought ancient power still dwelt within the carved mountains.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as the realization dawned on me.

“I’ve been following him, or her, I don’t really know their gender,” Father said, “I’ve been following this Creator for eleven years.”

“It’s true,” I whispered, touching my palm to the cool surface of the rock, “they’ve actually returned.”

“Of course, they’ve returned!” Father chuckled, “Did you really think I’d take seven-hundred children on just the promise of an old man?”

“I thought…” I started, “I thought…”

“You thought I was mad,” Father grinned, “everyone does, but being emperor means I don’t have to care about what everyone thinks; just those with influence, and those I love.”

“Like Telavia?” I asked, and then immediately regretted it.

“Telavia lost faith.” Father said somberly, “The pressure I put on her was… significant, and she betrayed me.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

“We had a difference of opinion,” Father said, looking away from me, “and we could not reconcile that difference.”

“I need to know, Father,” I said, “I can’t help you if I’m second-guessing every decision I make, wondering if any mistake will be my last.”

Father looked genuinely hurt at my concern. He walked toward me, and held out is arm. I took it, feeling a foreboding sense of dread as he walked us away from the six mages.

“As you know,” Father said, “Creators first exhibit their powers under conditions of extreme stress. When I took the children, I began putting them through stress-tests. It was… hard, at first, to do that to them. I refrain from the use of the word ‘torture,’ but it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that’s what occurred. Obviously, we did not get the results we wanted. So, we waited until sexual maturation, and then we began extreme-pleasure tests. Telavia and I worked tirelessly to perfect the tests, to evoke the reaction we desired, but the results never came.”

“So, you blamed her,” I said softly, “and you killed her.”

“It wasn’t as callous as that.” Father said, turning me around so that I faced him, “Telavia was convinced that we didn’t have the woman we were looking for. She tried to free the subjects, and destroy years of work. She betrayed me, and I punished her for her treason.”

“Is it treason?” I asked him, “Is your project a concern of national security?”

“You see that pass?” Father said, directing his hand to the carving in the cliffsides, “That pass opened an unassailable range, and led to a war that killed millions. Creators are weapons, Lucilla, and nations that do not have them will be forced beneath the heel of those that do.”

I could not deny the wisdom in Father’s words. The Creators had returned, and their return marked both a threat, and an opportunity. Still, there was something he was missing, something that he couldn’t see for himself, but I could.

“Telavia was right, Father,” I said cautiously, gaging his reaction, “you don’t have the Heat Bringer.”

“What makes you say that?” Father asked, his expression growing dark.

“What I felt yesterday…” I started, recalling the feeling of the orcs inside me, “was a sensation so extreme I lost function of my mind. If you had the Heat Bringer, she would have shown herself already.”

“Telavia said the same thing,” Father replied, “days before she betrayed me.”

“I will not betray you,” I said, trying to keep my poker-face, and not break down in panic, “but if you will not listen to two of your daughters telling you the same thing, then I cannot help you.”

Father looked at the gash in the mountains, contemplating my words. I waited with bated breath for him to draw his sword, and end me for my insolence, but he didn’t. He dropped his head, and I saw genuine sorrow on his face.

“I broke those girls, Lucilla,” Father said, “I twisted them and molded them to my liking. Over a decade of subtle manipulation, of giving and taking, of playing god with their psyches until they adored me. Do you know about Binding?”

“It’s when a Creator comes out of their infancy,” I replied, “they create a reservoir of power in another person, and can draw infinitely from it.”

“The Creator has to choose their Binder,” Father said, “they cannot be coerced into it; it has to be a genuine connection. They must love the person they bind with, so I have made the girls love me, even as I took everything from them. If what you’re saying is true, then any hope of our nation acquiring the permanent allegiance of a Creator is lost. I let her slip through the cracks, and now she is too old and too warry to mold. I fear, given my reputation, that the Heat Bringer will make an enemy of us.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked him.

“This point of contention between Telavia and myself is what compelled her to act as she did.” Father said, “She told me I did not have the Creator, and I told her that if all else failed, I would lay pitch upon the floor of the palace keep, and light all seven-hundred of them ablaze.”

“What?!” I yelled.

“It is a misnomer that Heat Bringers cannot be burned,” Father said, “they are flesh and blood like the rest of us. However, their ethereal flame burns hotter than any earthly fire, so when they ignite, the blaze of other fires will not scorch them. We burned the palms of the girls when they were children, but none reacted favorably. Perhaps the threat wasn’t real enough; perhaps a mortal test is required. If it fails, then I will know definitively that you and Telavia were right.”

“Father,” I whispered, horrified, “even if it works, you will have killed hundreds. How will the one remaining ever bind with you after you’ve murdered all her friends?”

“That is why it is a last resort,” Father said grimly, “it is a terrible thing that I do not wish to do, but increasingly, I am realizing it is a thing I must do. If I cannot bind with the Creator, I can at least break her.”

JULIA

I did not want another awkward morning, so I decided that ignoring what happened probably wasn’t the best idea. Tonight, I would get Lucilla good and drunk, and then we’d bury the hatchet, and laugh the whole thing off. I selected her favorite wine from the royal cellar, and prepared her a bath to clean the sin from her skin. When Lucilla came into her quarters, her dress was intact, her face was unmarred, and her porcelain complexion was much paler than usual. She was shaking.

“Lucilla?” I asked as she carefully sat on her bed, “Lucilla, what’s wrong?”

She stared at the fire crackling in the hearth, and didn’t seem to hear what I said. I walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped in surprise.

“Your Grace?” I asked her, feeling the tension in her body, feeling the panic in my chest rise. I’d never seen her like this. She shook beneath my palm, her entire body quaking in fear.

“He’s going to burn the girls,” she whispered, “he’s going to burn them all alive.”

“What?!” I hissed, feeling my panic grow to horror.

“It’s why he killed Telavia,” she said, her voice hushed and terrified, “because she was going to free them before he could do it.”

There was a silence between us as the gravity of her words sunk into my chest. Seven-hundred women were going to be burned alive. Seven-hundred women I could save just by giving myself up. Could I do it? Could I enslave myself to save hundreds I didn’t know? How many thousands would die if I put myself in the control of a tyrant? What would he do to me?!

“I…” Lucilla gulped, “I have to get them out, Julia. If I don’t try something, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“You can’t,” I replied, feeling numb, “after what Telavia did, he’ll be expecting it from you.”

“I still have to try.” Lucilla whispered. She sat in silence for another moment.

“I think,” she finally said, her voice void of emotion, “I think you can give me my final rites now.”

“Lucilla…”

“No,” she said, “don’t. Just… just give me my rites, Julia. Maybe if I do this… maybe, if I try… maybe your god will let me into that heaven of yours.”

“Let me speak with your father,” I said, my voice wavering, “I think I can convince him otherwise.”

“Father doesn’t care about the words of The Holy Mother,” Lucilla said, “he seeks another god.”

“Then,” I said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, “I will bless him with her presence.”

LUCILLA

Julia’s splayed her hand before my eyes; the glowing hearth casting shadows across her subtle veins and faint lines. A blue flame ignited in her palm, bathing her delicate fingers in sapphire. The heat was steady, unwavering, and not scorching the flesh that bore it. My eyes widened, and my mouth dropped as my heart pounded in my ears.

“Arbritus Gen,” Julia said softly, “is a name everyone knows, but few people understand. In modern tongue, it translates roughly to ‘Man of purity.’ I am his descendant, Lucilla; I am of pure blood.”

“No,” I whispered, gazing at the sapphire blaze in the palm of her hand, “that’s impossible.”

“You will take me to your father,” Julia said, “and you will save those girls.”

“No,” I whispered again, not believing what I was seeing, “no, no, no.”

“It’s the only way,” Julia said, her voice level and unshaking, “if we don’t, then we might as well have lit the match ourselves.”

“Julia,” I said in hushed tone, touching her wrist, almost reverently, “you’re a god.”

“I’m no god, Lucilla,” Julia smiled down at me, “there is but one.”

My hand ran along the soft skin of her arm, it’s pale hue bathed in the orange-red firelight of the hearth, and the blue blaze in her palm, casting a purple gloss about her complexion. I looked up at her smiling face, and saw the flames mingle in her green eyes, dance shadows across her crimson hair, and shine against the flushed roses of her high cheeks. Her red lips glistened in the wavering light, and they creased in a gentle smile about her gorgeous portrait. No, my father would not have this woman. This woman belonged to me. I flattened my palm against her wrist, and stared into those green eyes as I clasped my hand over the blaze in hers. The fire died between us as our fingers curled in an embrace. I guided her forward, our smiles and gazes connecting as she leaned into me.

“Lucilla,” she whispered as my other hand found her waist, “we can’t do this.”

“Yes, we can.” I smiled, unknotting the rope that bound her habit.

“God forbids it.” She replied, not stopping me from pulling the rope loose.

“Do you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Blasphemy.” she smiled.

“I’m a Creationist now, Julia,” I smirked, “come, let me worship you.”

“Your god demands you to stop!” Julia laughed.

“Great,” I grinned, “now I’m a sinner in two religions.”

I pulled the rope from her habit, and the cloth that wrapped her figure loosened. My fingers trailed along the crease of buttons that bound her clothes to her body, and I deftly pulled each of them apart.

“I can’t control it, Lucilla,” Julia said, reaching behind herself to stop me, “I’ll burn you.”

“You won’t burn me,” I smiled, undoing the last button, “I know you won’t.”

Her habit fell, and the dainty slip she wore beneath it draped scandalously off her. The soft curve of her shoulders lay bare, the pale crease of her breasts shown from the top of her bodice, and the silky flesh of her thighs angled full and supple from the frilled skirt that barely contained them.

“For a woman of god,” I laughed softly, “you have an interesting taste in underwear.”

“Lucilla,” Julia whispered, her body leaning into me, her eyes baring a needful, pleading glint, “we need to stop.”

“Do we?” I asked her, one hand still clasped in hers, the other trailing up her arm, to her bare shoulder.

“Lucilla,” Julia whispered again, her voice shaking slightly, “please, stop.”

“You keep saying that word, ‘stop,’” I smiled as my hand found the strap of her slip, and pulled gently downward, “I don’t think you know what it means.”

Julia’s slip trailed from her top in graceful flutter of folding silk. Her chest was laid bare to me; perfect, sloping breasts that swelled from her figure in a subtle curve, their pale hue a milky canvas that hinted at their supple nature, dotted with small, pink nipples at their precipice. She covered them with a shy forearm as I guided her to me by the waist. She sat tentatively on my lap, like a child on her father’s, and I couldn’t stifle the laugh.

“Julia, what the fuck are you doing?” I giggled endearingly, guiding her by the hips to face me, and pulling her thick thighs apart until she straddled me about the waist.

“Trying to decide whether or not to set you on fire,” Julia laughed back, some of her anxiety fading, “you’re not making it an easy choice.”

“And you,” I said, gently gripping her covering forearm and pulling it away from her, “are a god with body-image problems. You do know you’re beautiful, don’t you?”

Her arm fell away from her chest, and I guided both her hands in my own. I placed her fingers along the straps of my dress, and smiled as she nervously hooked them around them. She pulled down, sliding the spaghetti straps off my shoulders, and watching as inch after inch of my breasts were exposed to her, until we sat bare-chested in front of each other. Her eyes lingered on me, soaking in every curve of my bust, trailing along the arch of my neck, and then connecting with my gaze. She giggled bashfully, and her face fell, concealing her expression in a tumble of luxuriant, crimson locks. I laughed with her, and then brought my hand to her face, cupping the gentle bow of her blushing cheek and raising her eyes to mine. The smile that was revealed beneath the parting curtain of hair was not a scared smile, but a loving, longing smile. I shared it with her, and then brought our smiles together.

JULIA

I-can’t-do-this-I-can’t-do-this-I-can’t-do-this-I-can’t-do-this! The rational thought blared in my mind as our mouths connected. Lucilla’s breasts pressed against mine, forming a seal of warm flesh about our squishing busts as our lips formed a seal of humming love. I felt the apprehension melt from me, the anxiety bleed from my body as her lips gently drank of my budding lust. Her tongue flicked playfully across my own, and I joined her in the fun. I felt my body draw deeper to her, as if she was pulling us together through some unseen, irresistible force. My hands moved from their cautious perches at my sides, and tangled into her platinum hair; blonde strands twisting about playful fingers. Our mouths rotated about the axis of our lust, and the novice nature of my embrace fell away to instinctive confidence. I tilted her head back with guiding fingers, and pressed myself closer to her as our kiss deepened. I could feel her heart beating through our squishing busts, and I could feel the need of our bodies soaking through my slip. Our breaths grew heavy in each other’s mouths as we inhaled the sweet life from our lungs, burning its passion into our hearts.

Her hands trailed down my sides, and pushed the slip from my waist. I lifted my legs about her, and let the last piece of my clothing fall from me. Our tongues entwined in lustful combat as I hovered my body over hers, and dragged her dress down her torso, over her pelvis, and off her legs. Our lips parted, and we stared at each other. Her sapphire eyes gleamed in the light, her porcelain skin was flushed with her lust, her full, pink lips were parted and smiling, and her body… Good Mother, her body! Her breasts swelled from her dainty figure, larger than my own, but not exaggerated. Her belly was a concave curve of pale flesh with a navel dotting its perfect center, and her glutes widened from her pelvis in lascivious curves that rounded into toned thighs, whose precipice formed a gap where her glistening, tight slit leaked for me.

“Well,” Lucilla smiled, “are you just going to look at it?”

“I’m not sure what to do with it.” I giggled, brushing my dangling hair over a pointed ear.

Lucilla sat upright, and took two handfuls of my backside, sinking her fingers into the delectable fat that rounded my curves. She dragged my body across hers, and our slits ran through each other as our clits connected. A shot of pleasure raced up my spine, and a shiver followed it. A weak, vulnerable gasp slipped from my lips, and Lucilla smiled into my eyes.

“You know,” she smiled, “I’ve never done anything with another woman before, so this is new for both of us.”

“Well,” I smiled back, shifting my hips and savoring the feeling of her wet heat pressed against mine, “this feels nice; maybe we should keep doing this.”

“Oh?” Lucilla asked with a raised eyebrow as she guided me to grind on top of her, “Is this enough for you, Julia? Does it feel just… nice?”

Our clits rubbed against each other, each touch sending electric pleasure singing into my pelvis. I felt the wetness between my legs grow, and a hunger in my nethers ache with tortuous vacancy. The emptiness needed-no-craved to be satisfied. No, no this was not enough for me. I felt my eyes droop in the heat of my desire, and a needful, pleading wine drift softly past my lips.

“No,” I whispered, pressing our breasts closer together, feeling her erect nipples toying with my own, “Lucilla, I need you to fuck me from the inside.”

I couldn’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. I said a silent prayer as Lucilla’s grin broadened to a wicked smile. I couldn’t help but smile back; it was the truth.

“Sister Julia!” Lucilla exclaimed through giggles, “Did I just hear you say that?”

“Forgive me, Holy Mother,” I started, feeling my face flush, “for the words of my-”

“Shh.” Lucilla smiled, putting a finger to my lips, silencing me. Her blue eyes twinkled as the tip of her finger circled the outline of my mouth, gently deforming the luscious flesh. She pressed her finger to the crease of my pursed lips, and I hesitantly opened them for her. She put her finger into my mouth and (forgive me Mother for my lewdness) I sucked it. I twisted my lips around her finger, and hummed a needful tone as I drew it into my mouth. Lucilla’s thumb gently traced my cheek as I wetted her invading digit, and then she pulled it out, a sheen of my spit glistening from her extended index finger.

“Your hip movements need some work,” Lucilla smirked, reaching behind me with her wetted finger as she spread my glutes wide with her gripping hand, “I think I know just the trick.”

“Lucilla!” I gasp, alarmed, “That’s the wrong…”

Lucilla’s wet index finger traced a teasing line down the crease of my backside, rested on the tight, puckered dot of my rim, and then pushed inside. I felt my sphincter open to her external pressure, and then tightly close around her bottom knuckle. Her warm finger sunk into my sinful depths, and radiated its pressure into the coiled channel of my sensitive rectum. The feeling was so invasive, so perverse, so wrong, and so… good.

“…hole.” I finished, my words seeping from me in a breathy exhalation as my body melted into hers; relaxing in sensuous flaccidity as her tender invasion gradually twisted inside me.

“Oh, no,” Lucilla laughed softly, her breath tickling my lips, “the holy, pious, Sister Julia likes it in the ass.”

“Mother forgive me,” I whispered, astonished at the pleasure I derived from the alien sensation, “but it feels so good. Why does it feel so good?!”

Lucilla laughed gayly as she began twisting her finger inside me, compelling my hips to shift with the rotations of her finger. She was controlling me from the inside, making my body react without my permission, making me bend to the whims of my pleasures. I began to gyrate perversely; my hips tilting and swaying behind the stretched curve of my abdomen, my weight sliding from leg to leg as I moaned in pleasure for the first time in my life. Lucilla’s voice joined mine as she moved me to her liking; compelling my pelvis to shift against her in just the right ways, guiding our clits to rub tenderly together above the connecting petals of our erogeneity. Strings of viscous nectar mingled from my folds, to hers, mixing the secretion of our pleasure and glistening through the swollen lips they bore. She spread her legs between mine, guiding me by the thighs to stretch wider as she toyed with my anus. The twisted pleasure reverberated from my defiled rectum, and sent its caressing tendrils into the extremities of my body. My arms grew weak, and I struggled to keep them planted at Lucilla’s sides.

“You’re like my puppet,” Lucilla mused with a smile and a moan, “you’re so reactive, Julia.”

Lucilla’s ring and middle finger pressed alongside her penetrating index. I felt a stir of panic roil in my chest, and I opened my mouth to protest, but she pushed inside. My rim expanded, my sinful channel stretched, and the walls of my anus grew taught against the warm fingers inside me. My trembling arms gave out, and I collapsed face-first into the supple cushion of Lucilla’s breasts. My red lips gaped open and gasped as my cheek slid back and forth to the whim of my possessed gyrations. Holy Mother, it was good. Expanding, stretching, searing felicity ballooned from my violated hole, turning my pious equanimity into a splay of possessed delight. Lucilla’s nipple stood erect alongside my moaning mouth, and I took her between my lips and translated the pleasure of my body into my sensuous nursing. She tangled a hand into my crimson locks, and pressed me closer to her breast, cooing soft murmurs of bliss as I suckled from her, and she tenderly violated me. Our bodies locked to the swaying cadence of our lust, and we shifted together on the sheets. Our clits reddened with the constant grinding of our pelvises, and the sheen of our nectar wetted between us. Her fingers curled inside me, pressing against the walls of my anus, and I torqued in reaction to her, arching my back and pressing my body deeper into hers, savoring the thrumming of her heartbeat, the soft whimpers and moans of her mouth, and the seeping warmth of her flesh radiating into mine.

I reached between us as I nursed from her, sliding my hands along soft muscle and silky skin. My fingers found the wet petals between her legs, and I watched her from my sumptuous feeding as I pushed in one finger, then the other, then the other. Lucilla’s brow furrowed, and her pink lips opened to sing her soft approval. My sucking mouth quirked in a smile, and I curled my fingers inside her womanhood as she had done to my tighter hole. Her head fell back into the bed, and her grip inside me tightened. A squeal of delight permeated from my occupied mouth, and I began rubbing my fingertips along the soft, wet channel inside her. Her chest jutted forward, lifting my head upward, and her heartrate quickened. The crown of her head pressed into the sheets as her neck tilted back and striated with tension. I could feel it; the expansion of pleasure building within us both. Lucilla was losing control of herself, and I never even had control of myself. I simply responded to the motions of her lust, and now she was caught in the same reactive prison; bending and shifting to the demands of her pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” Lucilla gasped, her chest heaving in sporadic breaths, “Julia, you’re making me come!”

“Oh, Good Mother,” I gasped, my open lips brushing her nipple, strings of my saliva glistening from its pink tip, “Lucilla, I feel it… I FEEL IT!”

It took me over, spreading through me in a flood of euphoria. The tingling, gentle pleasure from our pressing clits grew to an exhilarating rush that propelled my moans into cries. Lucilla’s fingers gripped me like a vice from the inside, her knuckles whitening as her tips pressed into the delicate flesh. It sent a scream of ecstatic pressure deep into my abdomen, expanding in harmony with the surge of delight singing from my erogenous bead. My hips shot forward, pressing into the wet, tender heat of Lucilla’s lust, and my cries grew shrill. Then, I felt the other thing. The inferno that laid dormant within me, the blaze that tickled just beneath the surface. Oh, no! Oh, Sweet Mother, not now! My horror and pleasure mingled in a final crescendo, and I forcibly launched myself backward as my naked figure erupted in blue flame. I echoed the release of my body in euphoric terror as I writhed helplessly on the stone floor, my back arching in the climactic sensation, and my chest heaving in the cathartic tones of diminishment. I looked up to see Lucilla’s terror-stricken face staring back at me from the bed, and I felt my heart sink into my chest.

I can have no one, I thought in despair, I can never feel the touch of someone I love.

“Julia?” Lucilla’s soft, shaking voice asked me from above.

“This is why,” I panted, feeling tears evaporate from my flaming eyes, “this is why we can’t do this, Lucilla; I’ll kill you.”

The rug beside me was singed, the bed sheets by my feet were blackened and flaking with embers. I was the embodiment of destruction, a force that could not be contained. Lucilla knelt beside me, her eyes brimming with love. I looked away.

“I killed my parents,” I whispered, staring into the orange flame of the hearth, seeing their blackened, screaming faces in every tendril of smoke, “and I’ll kill you too. I’m no god, Lucilla; I’m a monster.”

“Julia…” Lucilla said, her hand reaching for me.

“Stay back!” I screamed, rolling away from her, seeing a flashing premonition of her scorched, shrieking face in my mind, “Don’t come near me!”

The flame brightened and flared with my outburst, and Lucilla cringed backward, covering her face with her hands. This is what I am, I thought as I watched her fall away from me, just stay away from me, Lucilla. I rolled to my side, not wanting to look at her horrified expression.

“You should take me to your father,” I said, staring into the orange flame of the hearth, seeing my screeching parents again and again, “save those girls before they burn.”

LUCILLA

I stared down in awe at the spectacle before me. Julia was… a god, there was no other way to describe her. Every inch of her beautiful, naked form was alight with a deep, sapphire flame, a flame that seemed to darken the closer it burned to her skin. I watched as its tendrils licked away at the bedsheets, burned away the frills of the rug, and blackened the stone beneath her. She was in pain; incredible, soul-crushing pain. Steam rose from her crying eyes as she confessed sins that weren’t her fault; the inferno intensifying and flaring with every heave of her inconsolable sorrow. I stepped back, shielding my eyes, feeling the heat whisk upon my flesh. She was alone in her own hell; a god caged by her own sorrow. I’d never seen her such agony, such manic grief. She thought she had no one, she thought she was an abomination, a monster. She wanted me to leave her. She wanted to die. Well, too fucking bad, Julia; you’re stuck with me.

I reached out a hand, feeling the heat tickling its warning on my skin. Icy fear placed its weight in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t stop. I stepped closer to the blue hell before me as the cadence of my heart thundered in my ears.

“You won’t burn me,” I whispered, more to myself than her, as I reached forward, “I know you won’t.”

My hand blistered, the hair on my arm singed off, my skin began to peel, but I kept reaching forward.

“You’re in control,” I said softly, extending through the burning pain, reaching through the flame, “you are the fire, Julia; you decide what you burn.”

The pain was incredible, the heat was searing, I could see the steam leaving my arm as the last protective wrap of moisture evaporated in the inferno. The blisters blackened on my hand, I could smell the flesh cooking, I could feel the fingernails melting, but I didn’t stop. Through the tears, through the agony, I extended forward, reaching for the woman whose internal pain dwarfed the torture of my flesh, reaching for my friend in need, my lover in crisis.

“It’s just you, Julia,” I said, tears streaming down my face, my blackened hand crackling in the sapphire hell, “it’s only you.”

My scorched hand touched the dark blue of her shoulder, and she turned to me, her eyes widening in horror. The burning sensation crept up my arm; a sleeve of blisters trailing the scalding crimson. Through tear-stained eyes and the red haze of agony, I saw the raging, blue inferno quell to a smoldering, cobalt ash. Her entire form dimmed to a husk of flaking embers; her skin that of dwindling, blue coals, her hair not but wisps of smoke. Then… she ignited; set ablaze in a white inferno that consumed me. I shrieked in horror, knowing that this was my last moment, but my breath did not scorch my lungs, and my skin did not melt in the heat. My ruined arm flaked with dead skin, and new, unmarred flesh was revealed below. The fried nerves in my hand electrified with sensation, and I felt two arms embrace me, and a kiss melt onto my lips. I could see nothing in the blinding, white light, but I could feel it all. The heat swirled around us in a vortex of energy, consuming the room, setting every waking tone and color ablaze in its brilliance. Through her lips, I felt a surge of power. It flowed into me, screeching through every vein and muscle, igniting every nerve and neuron. My eyes flashed open in the exhilaration, my heart thundered in the intensity of the euphoria, and every muscle in my body surged with an energy

I love you. Her voice whispered in my mind, through the inferno, through the chaos, as clear as a songbird in the dew-soaked dawn after a hurricane.

I love you too. I whispered back, and I meant it; I meant it with every inch of my soul.

The vortex spiraled into twisting lengths of fire, and then dissipated. The afterglow of the inferno spotted the lenses of my eyes, and they cleared to reveal her image. An aura of white light outlined her figure, her emerald eyes glowed with power, and her veins shown through her skin with the same white energy. It dimmed and brightened with the pulse of her heart, until the deific glow faded from her completely, leaving her beautiful, but normal, at least to unknowing eyes.

“Did you just…” she started, looking over my body, “did you just bind with me?”

“I don’t know what the fuck just-” I stopped as I looked down at myself. Bright, white patterns of energy glowed from my pale complexion. The patterns were intricate and untouching, resembling curls of flame that curved along every swell and bow of my form. It was as though my body was a canvas, and Julia had painted the most complex, beautiful maze of flourishing lines upon it, accentuating every elegant stroke of my feminine figure with a fiery design. It flowed in spirals of impossible intricacy about the domes of my breasts, accentuated the subtle rises of muscle in my arms, created long, elegant bows along my torso, and curved in wide strokes along my legs. There was not a bare inch of me that wasn’t highlighted by the fiery maze of impossible knots, waves, and curves. The glowing patterns didn’t dissipate, or fade like Julia’s aura, but thrummed steadily with the beat of my heart.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, “you turned me into your fucking mascot.”

“I’m sorry, Lucilla, I didn’t-”

“Sorry?!” I exclaimed, looking up at her, “Look how fucking hot this looks! Quick, get me a mirror; I need to see how my ass looks!”

“Lucilla-”

“Yeah, I love you too, babe,” I said, studying the patterns on my palms, and the bottoms of my feet, “I know this is a big moment, and I’m definitely ruining it right now, but I honestly don’t know how to deal with that level of emotional intimacy, so if you could just please let me have a moment of vanity, that would be great. Thanks.”

Julia handed me a mirror, and I took an indulgent glance at my ass (it looked fucking awesome) and then checked my face. I really did love the patterns, but I was glad they only extended to the top of my neck, and not to my face; it would be hard to hide them otherwise.

“OK,” I breathed, taking a deep inhale, and then exhaling through my nose, “we just bound ourselves. I am officially your reservoir of infinite power, and I love you with all my heart. Now what?”

“Um…” Julia said, looking around. Every window in the room had been blown out, there was a ten-foot hole in the wall that showed a vertigo-inducing five-hundred-foot drop from my room at the top of the tower, and on top of it all, the same patterns that now tattooed my skin, were scorched black onto every surface of the room. They ran in straight, perpendicular patterns with the edges of the walls, the tops of tables, and the bricks of the floor. From behind the closed door, I could hear the sound of faint yells and footsteps charging up the stairwell.

“…I don’t think you need to rescue those girls anymore.” Julia finished, “I think it’ll be pretty obvious to your father what happened here. Does he know about me?”

“It won’t take him too long to find out,” I said, “people know you’re staying in my quarters. He’ll check the record halls, find out your suspicious birth date, then check the census books, track your lineage, and put two-and-two together. He’s insane, but he’s far from stupid.”

“So,” Julia said, “what do we do?”

“First, we get dressed,” I said, “then, we get my gold, and run.”

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Chapter Three: The Earth Former

ASTRID

The Gratoran Wall was nothing but a blue haze against the sterile, desert sky, its amorphous outline split violently by the Droktin Pass, whose geometric strangeness dwindled to a murky sliver with each agonizing minute. I watched as the tallest peak of the range, Iona, my homeland, faded into the azure blandness with the rest of the mountains, until it disappeared completely in the sweltering air. The wheels of the slave cart squeaked, and the metal bars singed my skin. My wings ached behind me, bound together roughly by the orc’s vicious knot. A nymph girl sat in the spot across from me, her eyes downcast, her ram-like horns dusted with the debris of the churning wheels. Her face was girlish, with full cheeks, a soft chin, and big, forest-green eyes. Her skin was caramel, I thought, though it was hard to tell with all the sand that covered it. If her skin was caramel, it meant she was a young nymph; the older ones didn’t age with sagging flesh, but with a lightening off their complexion until it was a green hue, and a darkening of their hair until it was turquoise. As far as I could tell, her hair was a dirty-blonde, but once again, that damned sand covered everything in its brownish coat. The nymph was draped in what looked like a burlap sack, though it could have once been a cloak. Her hands were bound to her ankles, and she appeared to be staring at nothing at all. I pitied the girl; she wasn’t made of the hard stuff I was. I am a Valkyrie, a winged-warrior of the mountain, the pride of the snow and cold, the sword of the highlands, and… and… and a captive to three, fat orcs. Great Creators, I’m an embarrassment.

“Hey,” I said to the girl, “how come you’re so far from the Arbortus Forest?”

She didn’t answer.

“That’s what; three-hundred miles east of the wall?” I asked, “Doesn’t your kind always stay in the trees?”

No response. I sighed, and leaned back into the bars, trying to acclimate my skin to the searing temperature. This is what I get, I thought grimly, for going on a foolish quest looking for impossible answers. They’ll rape me tonight; me and that girl, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. My chastity, my pride, and my honor will be stripped of me, and then they’ll clip my flight feathers, and sell me off to some orc-lord. Maybe I can kill myself before that happens. Is there any hanging rope in here? I searched around the cart, seeing not a single slicing edge, nor a loose spike to slit my wrists with. I contemplated smashing my head against the bars, but realized that would just leave me unconscious. I resigned myself to at least another hour of rest before I contemplated suicide again, and tried to stare vacantly like the nymph girl.

A black rock popped out of the sand, inches from the cart. It just… jumped right out of the ground, like a breaching trout in a stream. I shook my head, unsure if the desert was causing mirages, or if I was losing my mind. Another one popped out, this one a bit bigger. I blinked, thinking I must be going insane, but then a third rock surfaced right in front of the left wheel. The cart jerked, reassuring me of my sanity, but the orcs seemed to take no notice, and we kept rolling.

“What in Creation…” I whispered, looking between the bars, “Hey, did you see that?”

The nymph girl just kept staring at the floor. Her green eyes weren’t vacant anymore, but seemingly fixed in concentration. There was a vein protruding from her forehead, and her hands were shaking.

“Hey,” I asked, “hey, what’s wrong?”

“Too much sand,” the woman finally said through gritted teeth, “too much fucking sand.”

A blood vessel burst in her eye, the vein in her forehead throbbed, and her body trembled with the strain of something, as though she were trying to lift an impossible weight. What in Creation is wrong with her?! I thought to myself, cringing back as spittle shot from her clenched teeth, Is she rabid? Should I ask a guard for help? Another blood vessel burst in her eye, the vein in her forehead seemed to beat with its own pulse, her face was growing purple, her entire body was wracking with spasms; and then, she stopped. She looked up at me, and the biggest, shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen in my entire life appeared on her face.

The cart shot into the air, lifted by a slab of obsidian twenty-feet by twenty-feet, perfectly square. The slavers screamed in terror, and I screamed with them, but the girl just laughed manically. Then, we stopped, and began to tilt. The slab slowly eased on its side, sliding everything but the cart into the black vacancy it left in the sand. An orc screamed as he fell, and then was sucked into the loose gravel, his upraised hand trailing his body, and then disappearing. The other two orcs clawed at the glossy onyx surface, but their fingers found no purchase, and they too, fell into the quicksand below. The rock tilted ever further, until my binds wrenched against my wrist as my weight caught on the bars. The cart was stuck to the side of the slab, facing directly downward. The cubic rock rested on the hole it had left, sealing the orcs beneath the sand, and then the cart was slowly ushered down its side. I looked out of the cage door in horrified fascination as I saw the rock deforming from its glossy surface, and gripping the cart’s wheels in toothy gears that rolled us downward on obsidian tracks, before we finally stopped with the cart’s front resting in the sand.

“Holy shit!” the nymph girl laughed, “I’ve never done anything like that before. Did you see that? I didn’t even have to touch the stone!”

I gawked at her. Sitting before me, was the answer I had sought. The quest I’d pledged my life to, the holy crusade I’d embarked on, the epic voyage of a lifetime, fraught with peril, burdened with strife, an odyssey the likes of which bards would sing of for generations, had taken me a grand total of one day and three hours to complete. This had to be a new record.

“Good thing the bedrock was shallow here,” the god said, “or we’d have been good and fucked. Fucking sand, man; can’t do shit with it.”

“Your Holiness,” I whispered, bowing my head, “great Earth Former, goddess of mountains and rock; I am not worthy. As a winged-warrior of Iona, it is my sworn-duty to serve you. I have oaths I must-”

“Ah shit,” the young woman groaned, “you’re a Creationist?”

“Um…” I said, still bowing my head, “…yes.”

“Valkyrie, huh?” the woman said, studying me, “I thought you people worshipped men with magic hammers and horned helmets.”

“No, Your Holiness,” I said, still prostrating myself, “we are sworn devotees and protectors of the Devine Trinity. Our patron god is the Earth Former, or, matron god, in your case, and-”

“What’s your name?” she interrupted again.

“Astrid.” I responded.

“Well, Astrid,” the girl said, making a sharp piece of the obsidian slab curl from its geometric form, and reach into the cart to cut her binds free, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see me, then you’re going to fly off back to your mountain and never tell a soul. Your god commands it.”

The rejection stung me to the core, and it took all the resolve within me not to burst into tears. Of course, she doesn’t want you! I thought, She’d be a fool to take a protector who was captured so easily. The goddess cut my binds, and awkwardly pushed up on my chest as my legs swung below me, until my feet landed on the front door of the cage. She turned away, and a hand of black rock reached into the cart, and ripped the bars from the studs. She stepped out onto the sand, and I followed behind her, keeping my head bowed in reverence, even though I stood a good foot taller than her. The nymph looked in one direction, then the other, seeing nothing but sand for miles and miles. She put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh.

“On second thought, Astrid,” the young god said, “I think I might need you.”

WILLOWBUD

Astrid was six-feet of Nordic perfection. Her statuesque frame was encased in tight-fitting leather armor that expanded at the immense protrusion of her bust, narrowed through the flat stretch of her abdomen, widened at her hips, cupped tightly to the supple form of her ass, and then narrowed into legs that went on forever. Her skin was pale with a touch of color, her hair was a cold-blonde braided intricately about her crown, and her eyes were steely blue. Her face was structured with high cheekbones, a cut jawline, a subtly-pronounced brow, and a pointed nose whose bridge drew seamlessly into her forehead. Her stoic portrait was decorated with lush, frowning lips, a thin scar that lined a taught cheek, and piercing eyes that seemed to stare with constant defiance from their shadowed sockets. And she thought I was the god! I know I’m pretty, I’m not an idiot, but this woman… this woman looked like a fucking marble statue. Like, this is the kind of broad you’d see carved into the bow of a warship. I felt like a violin solo should be constantly following this woman. Oh, and I forgot to mention, she had a set of fucking angel-wings that spanned seven feet in either direction.

“What would you have of me, Your Holiness?” she asked, her annoying devotion brimming from her face.

“Well, first thing,” I said, “is to call me by my name, Willowbud.”

I held out a hand, and she looked at it for a moment, then got to one knee, bowed her head, and kissed my knuckle as though there was a ring there. I rolled my eyes.

“Shake it, Astrid,” I groaned, “it’s not your mother’s cunt.”

Astrid started in shock, and I grinned internally. I had spent my childhood aboard vessels with the foulest of sailors, in bars with dock workers, in brothels with whores, and the past year jumping from caravan to caravan. Needless to say, my vernacular was quite extensive.

Astrid stood up, the sting of my words and the awe of my ‘divinity’ stretched across her beautiful face. She shook my hand like a woman should, and I firmly shook hers back.

“Good,” I said, pulling my hand from her grasp and looking over the horizon, “I need to get to the Tentigo Tropics, do you know where that is?”

“Two day’s flight southeast from Iona,” she replied, pointing to the highest peak of the mountain range, “though I think I should take us there first, my people would-”

“We can take supplies from that cart,” I interrupted, walking past her and sifting through the wreckage, “I don’t need any more worshipers, thank you very much.”

I pulled out the orc’s provisions, and a length of rope that had been tied to the back of the cart. Astrid came next to me and searched through the supplies, until she found what she was looking for. A six-foot long, two-handed sword decorated with rubies on the cross-guard and engraved with intricate designs about the hilt. The blade itself, had been bent in half under the weight of the obsidian cube. She held the weapon with as much reverence as she had given me (an annoying amount), and then she bit back tears, and dropped it to the ground. Ah, shit, I thought as I placed my hand over the ruined blade, if she was annoying before, she’s gonna be so much worse now. I righted the weapon before her eyes, and then sharpened it just for good measure. The whole act took less than a second; the blade springing back into place, and then shearing itself sharp in a spray of sparks. Astrid, predictably, dropped to her knees, and started another sermon.

“Oh, Great Creator,” she said, her eyes welling in tears, her hands holding the sword aloft, “who hast re-forged the Blade of Iona, the heritage of my people, the-”

“Astrid,” I said, placing a hand on her bowed head, “shut the fuck up. I’m not your god, I’m a person, and if you’re not going to treat me like one, then you can fly your pretty ass back to Iona.”

Thankfully, Astrid stopped her worship. I got out the rope, made a make-shift harness for myself, and then tied it to Astrid’s torso. I felt foolish stepping into the leg-loops while she knelt awkwardly in the sand, but the ergonomics of our bodies didn’t lend to graceful interaction. When my chest was tied firmly to her torso, and I had made a cozy pillow out of her massive tits, Astrid stood up, my weight seeming to mean nothing to her, and then launched us into the air with a powerful stroke of her wings.

ASTRID

Seven hours later, I landed on an outcropping of The Gratoran Wall. The sun was setting behind the desert hills to my west, casting long shadows across the golden dunes and plateaus. Willowbud was snoring loudly into my chest. Her pretty face was distorted in slumber; her lips spilling drool, her eyes pinched tightly, and her nose snarling with each thunderous snore. She looked very un-divine, but I still treated her with all the gentle reverence I could muster in my exhaustion. Willowbud was not what I expected for a god, I’ll admit, but I rationalized that her holiness was only strengthened by her humbleness. I gently untied the knots that bound her, and then draped her petite body onto the ground. As I looked down at her, I had to shake myself from the euphoric realization that this was actually happening; I was the holy protector of a Creator! This was the honor all Valkyries dreamed of, but few ever actually achieved. It had to be fate that I was captured by orcs, and then thrown into that cart, it just had to be! It couldn’t be because I’m a terrible warrior and an embarrassment to the Iona Guard. I told myself. I shook the thought from my mind, and looked fondly down at the sleeping divinity. I will protect you, I thought, you will come to no harm while under my care, little god; I swear you this oath. I lied down beside her, careful not to get too close, and then folded my wings over the both of us, and fell asleep to the comforting roar of her divine snores.

When I awoke, she was gone. I shot up in a panic, looking from left to right, cursing myself for my carelessness. I ran across the outcrop, and then found her, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was bathing in a pool of water, showering her naked form with the gentle stream of a cliff-side water fall. Now that the sand had washed from her, I could see that she was indeed, caramel of skin. Her hair, however, wasn’t the dirty-blonde it appeared to be when it was covered in sand, but a pure white; starkly contrasting her darker complexion, but blending with the ivory of her horns. Her girlish face was full and rosy with youth, and did not match the womanly curves of her body. Her breasts were petite, but well-formed, her back was lined with lithe muscle, her torso was toned with soft creases, her glutes swelled alluringly from her sloping back, and her penis jutted thickly from her… wait; what in Creation?!

“Oh, hi, Astrid!” Willowbud called merrily from the pool, brushing wet hair behind her curved-back horns, “I bet you didn’t expect this, did you?”

I tried not to gawk, I tried to keep my composure, and I failed. I stared with wide-eyes at the long, smooth piece of man dangling from between her thick legs. I had never seen one before, and its presence was a magnet to my eyes. It was… fascinating.

“My grandfather,” Willowbud said, stretching lasciviously for the falling water to splash upon her caramel breasts, “was an incubus. They tailor their appearance to match the desires of women they lust after, and somehow, that trait passed to me as interchangeable genitals. I can control it, of course, but if I ignore it, my body naturally changes itself to match the desires of those around me.” She gave me a little wink, “So that morning wood I woke up with was a blaring signal of your heterosexuality.”

She stepped from beneath the waterfall, and walked toward me, her thick member swaying between the sultry gait of her thighs, her rich body dripping and glistening in the dawn sun. I finally collected myself, and forcibly averted my gaze, feeling my face flush in embarrassment.

“Oh no,” Willowbud laughed, “are Valkyries prudes about nudity? I always assumed a bunch of women living together in the mountains wouldn’t care about these things.”

“We don’t care of such things,” I said, looking away as she laid next to me, drying her body in the sun, “but the nakedness of a man is something we… are not used to seeing.”

“It’s just a dick, Sweetheart,” Willowbud chuckled, “how do you breed if you don’t see one every once in a while?”

“When a Valkyrie seeks the joy of mothering a daughter,” I explained, still looking away, “she may find herself a mate amongst the mountain men to the north of Iona. They are fearsome warriors who make excellent seed-givers. She sends an emissary to request their strongest man, and they bring him to her for a single night. She will give him her virginity, and he will give her a child, and then they will part ways.”

“That is incredibly romantic,” Willowbud said dryly, “so you only fuck once in your entire life?”

“The desires of the flesh are a weakness that a warrior woman must overcome,” I said, steeling my resolve to keep my eyes forward, “she may relieve herself with her hand, but she may not put herself beneath another for pleasure.”

“You flying broads sure put a lot of stock in your twats,” Willowbud snorted, “us nymphs, we run around Arbortus buck naked and give it away like candy; we’re a horny bunch.” Willowbud took an indulgent moment to laugh at her pun before continuing, “I left before I could join in the fun though, damn shame; I would have been very popular.”

“Why did you leave?” I asked, relieved that the conversation had veered away from sex. For a moment, I had feared that Willowbud would ask me to lie with her. I didn’t know much about sex, but I did know that the penis had to be hard for it to work. From the corner of my eye, I could see that it was still lying flaccidly in her lap. She did not desire me, that was good, but why did I feel disappointed?

“The elven emperor started poking his head around,” Willowbud said, “and Mother feared they’d invade if they found out the Earth Former was a nymph, so she sent me to live in the Tentigo Tropics; there’s a nymph colony in the rainforest there. I left eleven years ago, when I was five.”

“You’ve been traveling to Tentigo for eleven years?!” I exclaimed.

“No,” Willowbud said, her expression growing dark, “I got sidetracked. Things happened, plans changed…” her eyes grew distant for a moment, “people changed…” she muttered, but I got the impression that she was no longer talking to me.

“But,” she said, shaking herself out of her contemplative state, “you don’t need to hear about any of that shit. After eleven years, I’m only two days from Tentigo, and it’s all thanks to you.”

I felt a swell of pride bursting in my chest. The Creator finds me useful! I thought with glee.

“I will not let you down.” I said firmly, trying to conceal my smile. It didn’t work. Valkyries are terrible at deception. We cannot lie, and we are awful at hiding emotion. So, my grin showed from ear to ear, and though I was looking away from Willowbud, I knew she could see it.

“Oh, someone’s feeling pleased with herself,” Willowbud chuckled, “you really are that devoted, aren’t you?”

“The Valkyries of Iona would do anything for you.” I replied, and then added, “I will do anything for you, Willowbud.”

There was a silence between us. I suspected it would be an uncomfortable silence for most people, but Valkyries don’t engage in uncomfortable silences. There are simply times for talking, and times when talk is not needed. To my mind, I had said what needed to be said, and Willowbud was simply contemplating the depth of my words. I took it as a sign that the conversation was over, so I began to peel off my armor. The cool air caressed my flesh as piece after piece of stifling, dirty leather was pulled from me. I let the strap that wrapped my groin fall to the rocks, and felt the freeing sensation of nakedness through my legs. I stretched broadly, jutting my chest forward and arching my back, craning my neck and spreading my wings to their full fourteen-foot span. Then, I stood up, and walked into the water. The cool surface of the pool beckoned me welcomingly below its depths, and I felt all the dirt, sand and grime wash from my flesh. I dunked my head beneath the surface, and then flung it back, letting my blonde hair whip in an arc behind me as the droplets that clung to my braided strands sprayed upon my naked breasts. I dipped the tips of my wings into the glassy surface, and watched as ripples permeated from the feathers. I ran my hands down my sides, loosening the taught muscles of my back and abdomen, stretching my torso to the sky and splaying my wings to catch the warmth. I turned idly to the side and… Willowbud was watching me with wide eyes. She sat upright, her jaw hanging open, her arms pinned to the ground behind her, and her penis curving backward with engorgement. My wings closed around me in a second, my heart jumped in my chest, and my face flushed furiously. I stood in my protective wing-shell, the light of dawn shining a cream-colored hue through my translucent membrane of feathers, and my cheeks burning with redness. Had I… did I just make her… was she aroused by me?

WILLOWBUD

If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve assumed Astrid was putting on a show for me. Her naked body moved with an athletic grace I’d never seen before; her muscles rippling in sinuous motion beneath her subtly-tan canvas, her breasts jiggling with the adept movements of her back, and her glutes flexing with the alluring swings of her wide hips. She turned her head skyward, stretching her magnificent figure in an arching back, reaching outward with her arms and splaying her wings, her whole body bathed in an aura of dawn sun reflecting golden light from her wet skin. Then, she looked at me, noticed the skin-splitting boner I had, and shelled herself in a cocoon of her own wings. It was strange to see a woman so confident in her body, so assured in her natural superiority, hide herself over something as trivial as an erection. It was like watching a lioness cower from a mouse.

I sighed, and began to stroke myself. If a dick was going to cause this much trouble, then I’d have to force myself to stay completely female. I couldn’t change back to my female form until this boner was gone, and there was no way it was going away on its own after what I just saw. I affixed a mental image of Astrid arching her naked body, bit my lower lip, and went to town. Astrid’s feathery shell shifted just a bit, and I saw a pair of blue eyes peering from between white feathers.

Getting a little curious, hmm? I thought with a smile. I closed my eyes, and focused on the rock I was lying on. I let my connection with the stone travel from where I lay, to the floor of the natural pool, where Astrid was standing. I could feel her pulse against the stone, and the subtle vibration and shifts of her body gave me an image of her form. Beneath those wings, Astrid was touching herself. We’re getting very curious, aren’t we?

“Astrid?” I called, watching her eyes widen behind her feathers, “Are you enjoying yourself in there?”

“I…” she said shyly, “I am content, yes.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, pushing my erection down until the tip pointed accusingly at her.

“I am concealing myself,” Astrid said, her voice shaking, “because your arousal discomforts me.”

“Does it?” I grinned, “what else are you doing under there?”

“I-I-I…” she stammered. I could practically feel her blushing; her heartrate was skyrocketing against the rocks, “I am relieving myself with my hand.”

“Well, so am I,” I smiled, “but it’s not really fair that you get to see me, and I don’t get to see you. Why don’t you open up those wings?”

I felt Astrid’s pulse quicken even more as her wings tentatively opened. Her face was beat-red with embarrassment, but she did not attempt to cover herself. She stood in all her glory, her arms pressing her breasts together as her hands joined between her legs. I watched her intently as I made a show of stroking myself with long, deliberate pulls. I anchored my heels into the rock, and began subtly thrusting in the air, moaning soft feminine tones as I sated my raging masculinity.

“You know,” I said, watching her arousal grow behind her eyes, “if I were a Valkyrie with the opportunity to fuck a god, I’d like to think I wouldn’t let the chance pass me by.”

“Are you commanding me to lie with you?” she asked, her voice wavering in desire and fear.

“Do you want me to command you to?” I asked with a smirk, “Would that make it easier on your conscience?”

“Yes.” she said, her voice small and weak.

“Well, too bad,” I laughed, “because I already told you I’m not your god. You make your own decision, Astrid, and you better make it quick, because I’m a notorious premature ejaculator.”

Astrid stood in an indecisive stasis, still touching herself as she weighed her options. I began to shift and moan with exaggerated lechery, driving my hips in the air, gripping my left breast lustfully, escalating my tones like I was on the brink of orgasm. I could see the frustration in her face, the desire creeping through the apprehension, the will to retain her equanimity diminishing in the wake of her feminine hunger.

“Willowbud,” she finally said, her voice barely audible, “will you have sex with me?”

“Why, yes, Astrid,” I smiled, “I’d love to; how nice of you to ask.”

She walked to me, her hands entwining anxiously in front of her, her gait stiff and nervous, her wings bent behind her demurely, and her smile shy and adoring. Normally, her worshipful demeanor would be annoying, but seeing it glow from her face as she got on her hands and knees was incredibly alluring.

“Put your knees right here.” I smiled, gesturing to the spaces below my armpits. Astrid’s expression became perplexed.

“But,” she said, cocking her head in confusion, “that is not where your penis is.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed, taking a grip of her hips, “you’re adorable. Just trust me, Astrid.”

ASTRID

I placed my knees on the spaces below Willowbud’s arms, feeling very uncomfortable with the position. She was a god, yet she wanted me to be atop her? It felt wrong, it felt disrespectful, it felt sacrilegious. Then, it felt wonderful. She grabbed me by the hips and pulled me downward. Her face pushed into my pelvic floor, and I gasped as I was touched by another for the first time. Her lips parted around my dripping petals, and her tongue snaked through them, brushing aside my tender folds with the wet heat of her oral member. My back straightened as the shock of the sensation ran through me, and my eyes widened in lustful astonishment. The tip of her tongue found the bead of my erogeneity, and she methodically worked it beneath the fleshy hood. Streams of fiery pleasure coursed into my pelvis, and my lips gaped open to form a moan of astounded pleasure. I let my hips sink downward, enveloping her face in my thighs, and my posture loosen as I succumbed to her passion. My eyes cast downward, and my vision was filled with the prize I had lusted after since I’d seen it. It throbbed and curved backward, leaking with its need. I reached forward, feeling my heart race in anticipation, and then clasped my hands around it. It pulsed against my palms, twitching in reaction to every subtle touch of my fingers, its heat burning delectably into my hands. I let out a sigh of satisfaction as I felt it harden in my grasp, curving backward even more as I gently caressed it. It looked… delicious. I lowered my lips to it, my breathing sharp with the exhilaration of Willowbud’s lustful consumption, my mouth watering as the oozing tip neared me. I gave it a shy lick, flicking the tip with my tongue, testing the flavor of her. She tasted good. Her cock twitched against my lips, and she shifted her hips upward, pressing the head against my mouth. I opened it, and let her slide inside me.

I pursed my lips around her girth, savoring the feeling of every vein and bump deforming the lush outline of my mouth. Her shaft traveled along my tongue, and I curled it around her, trying to taste every inch she had to offer. Her tip pushed against the resistance of my throat, and she stopped, holding her hips aloft and waiting for me, allowing me to decide if I should take her deeper. I smiled around her cock, and made the decision. It was an easy choice, really; she was my god, and I would do anything for her. I relaxed my throat as best I could, and lowered my face. I felt my neck constrict, and a gag form in my esophagus, but I pressed on. Tears welled in my eyes as the choking sensation became more intense, and I had to stop to acclimate to the new pressure, but I didn’t pull out; something about the way she throbbed in my throat excited me. When I adjusted to the feeling, I took her deeper and deeper. It was easier now that I’d gotten over the choking sensation, and I felt a surge of pride as my lips pushed against her base. Her thighs quivered below me in abject pleasure, and I smiled around her cock. She rewarded me by pushing her entire tongue into my slit, and curling it along my ceiling, pressing the tip against my ridged weak spot and exploiting it mercilessly. My back gave out in pleasure, and my abdomen sunk into her belly as my breasts squished against her pelvis. My eyes rolled into my head, and I mindlessly began to suck on the wonderful cock stretching my throat.

WILLOWBUD

Astrid’s hands gripped my ass as she pulled my hips upward, taking every inch of me into her mouth, swallowing around me as I buried my way into her throat. Her pussy leaked her desire onto my lips and frothed her pleasure onto my tongue, filling me with her decadent flavor. I sucked the tender folds of her reddened petals as I pushed my tongue deeper, trying to taste every inch of her virginity before I took it from her. The familiar pressure in my loins began to grow, and I felt my masculine mind bend to its desires, thrusting into Astrid’s throat with increasing voracity. She didn’t seem to mind that I was being rough; she seemed to like it. She took my rigor as a sign that she was doing her duty, and she welcomed my hammering thrusts into her mouth with all the tenderness she could offer. Spit leaked from her defiled lips and pooled onto my crotch, gurgles and pained gags slipped from her throat, but she only hummed a tone of pure bliss, and comfortingly excepted my raging heat into her wet warmth. Her cunt began to twitch in the precursor of her ascension, her hips began to grind without her permission, and her heart raced against my body. The humming tones of her occupied mouth grew louder and higher, the shifting nature of her figure began to border on desperation. The feminine sounds of her vulnerable euphoria leaked into my primal mind, and stoked the masculine fire that raged within it. I couldn’t hold back, not with the way she was taking me into her, not with the flavor of her orgasm on my tongue, not with the sounds of her succumbing to my pleasure. I thrusted the last of myself into her as she clenched her thighs around my face. Her belly pressed against mine with the arch of her back, her abdominal muscles convulsed in waves against mine, and her mouth screamed muffled ecstasy. I growled into her depths and clamped my eyes shut as I felt the pressure in my loins build and build, expanding with ecstatic fullness until it burst. I blew my load into Astrid’s virgin, pristine mouth as she showered me with the release of her lust. I felt her gag around me as my seed rushed into her throat, and I felt her swallow every drop. I licked the spray of her orgasm from my lips, and pulled her pelvis off me. She withdrew from my cock in a long, slow pull; cleaning the cum from my shaft with her tongue and the seal of her lips.

Ah, shit, I thought, I came too fast again.

ASTRID

That. Was. Amazing. I savored the residual pleasure that burned in my depths as I licked the last of Willowbud’s seed from her shaft. I didn’t know if that’s what I was supposed to do, but it seemed a sin to let her holy fertility fall to the rocks. Not only that, but I enjoyed the idea of it soaking inside me. Willowbud guided my hips off her, strings of my lust glistening in the dawn light and snapping from her lush lips. I looked back at her with all the satisfied adoration I could muster, and she returned my gaze with a look of disappointment. Oh, no! I thought, I did something wrong! What did I do?! Does she hate me now?

“Ah, fuck,” Willowbud grunted, “I blew my wad.”

“I’m sorry!” I said, dismayed, “I did not mean to-”

“Holy shit,” Willowbud laughed, “it’s not your fault, Astrid. Well, it kind of is.”

“Please forgive me!”

“Astrid,” Willowbud said, resting her hand on my ass, “you need to stop putting me on a pedestal. I came too early, because you are the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever been with, and I got too excited.”

“So…” I said feeling a hopeful smile grow on my face, “I was good?”

“Too good, apparently,” Willowbud smiled, giving my ass a friendly smack, “where did you learn to give head like that?”

“Give head?” I asked.

“You are the cutest fucking thing in the world,” Willowbud laughed, and I returned her mirth with a confused smile, “and a natural at sucking dick. That’s a compliment, of sorts.”

“Then I will take it as such.” I grinned, lowering my lips to her deflating member.

“Astrid,” Willowbud sighed, “it’s not going back up. I’m a one-and-done-two-pump-chump.”

“You’re a god,” I whispered, smiling back at her as I inhaled the sweet stink of her loins, “whose humbleness is getting annoying; I think I believe in you more than you believe in yourself.”

I kissed the tip of her cock, and giggled as it flexed. I ran my tongue across the top of her shaft, sheening her with a loving caress. I reached down and gently cupped the orbs that hung beneath her, and rolled them tenderly in my hands, savoring their delicate heat. Every gentle pass of my tongue brought Willowbud’s arousal to new heights, until the god’s manhood was engorged and throbbing, and she was moaning for more. I really am good at this, I thought with a self-satisfied smile, I wonder what other salacious skills I have hidden within me.

I gave Willowbud’s cock a parting kiss on the tip, and gave her face a smile I’d never worn before; a mischievous smile, a playful smile, a smile that suggested I knew something that she didn’t. Of course, as I righted myself, and straddled the goddess about the thighs, my confident smile faded. I was about to lose my virginity. I was about to engage in sex for the sake of pleasure, and not for the sake of procreation. I was about to break a vow, but Great Creators I wanted it! I felt the tortuous emptiness building inside me, craving with insatiable appetite for the touch of a man… or a god.

“Are you scared?” Willowbud asked, her dark, green eyes bearing nothing but tenderness.

“Yes,” I said with a bashful smile, “I’m terrified, but I want it, Willowbud; I want it so bad!”

Willowbud laughed as she ran her hands up my sides, and hooked them about my waist, sinking her fingers into the fat that creased from my spread thighs to my glutes. Her touch was gentle, but firm, as she guided me downward into womanhood. I gasped in alarm when she first entered me, breaking my virgin tightness with deliberate slowness. Inch after inch eased inside me, and inch after inch stretched my taught chastity to the point of pain. I rested my hand on her pelvis, pressing down when I wanted her to stop, and easing off when I was used to the feeling. Soft murmurs of discomfort slipped from my lips, and my eyes widened as I felt the invasion deepen. It was such a disarming, violating feeling, but I hungered for it despite the pain. My pelvic floor connected with Willowbud’s crotch, and a whimper slipped from me as I took the last inch of her. A breathless moment passed where the enormity of my situation fell upon me; I was a woman now. I was a woman, and it felt so good to be a woman. The pain of my virginity faded, and the throbbing, exhilarating heat of Willowbud’s cock began to radiate delightfully into my depths. It still hurt a little, but the pleasure was there, and the pleasure was intoxicating. The instincts of lust crept into my mind, and I smiled, and began to shift my hips.

WILLOWBUD

Astrid was an angel riding me. Her wings stretched behind her to catch the sun in a silver silhouette, her blonde hair glowed in an aura of dawn, and her skin radiated with the golden desert light. In my experience, virgins are usually content with lying there and taking it, but Astrid was not. After the initial shock of losing her chastity, Astrid’s sexual confidence flourished. Her hips grinded in long, graceful motions; her toned abdomen flexing in waves, her ample, domed breasts jiggling to the whim of her movements. She stretched backward, resting her hands on my thighs, and she gyrated on my cock like a belly-dancer. I slid my hands further behind her and gripped the sweet fat of her ass, savoring the feeling of her warm flesh molding in my hands. I groaned and gasped as she tightened around me with each pass of her gyration, stirring her tight womanhood with the rigid strength of my manhood. An astonished, delighted smile curled across her lips, and a girlish giggle flowed from her as she realized the breadth of her newfound prowess. She moved with the natural elegance of an experienced woman, and reacted with the wide-eyed exuberance of a teenage girl. Still, she treated me with too much reverence for my liking.

“Touch me, Astrid,” I moaned as she danced on me, “grab me, squeeze me, take me; I’m not your god.”

“You are my god,” she giggled, leaning forward and gripping my breasts, “but I will do as you command.”

“Your god commands you to fuck me like a bitch in heat.” I grinned.

Astrid slid forward on top of me; her flexing abdomen squishing into the softness of my belly, her ample breasts flattening into domes against the backs of her cupping hands. She pressed my flailing bust together, and pushed her thumbs into my erect nipples, prompting me to cry out in glee. She laughed delightedly at my responsiveness, and curved herself convexly, separating our squishing busts so that she could take my nipple into her mouth. I moaned as her soft lips pursed around my hardened node and sucked gently; drawing the sensitive nipple out from my areola until it ached wonderfully with its erectness. She eyed my face with a curious expression, playfully studying my reaction, trying to find the secrets of my pleasure. She rotated her mouth about my nipple, and I moaned. She released my reddened bead and flicked her tongue across in teasing tickles, and I cried out again. Her blue eyes twinkled beneath her brow as she discovered the little things that drove me crazy, and she exploited them to her liking. All the while, her hips moved behind her in a mechanical cadence, but a lustful motion. The swell of her perfect backside rose and fell, jiggled this way and that, clapped together and spread with each pass of her hips. She was an artist of lust, a sculptor of love making, and she knew it. She tangled a hand in my hair, and pulled back gently, tilting my head backward and exposing my neck. She licked me from nipple to collarbone, then exchanged her hedonism for love, and burned a sweet path of gentle kisses along the curved vulnerability of my throat. She stopped at my jaw, and then watched me with an apprehensive expression.

“What?” I gasped, unable to speak words in anything but breathy expulsions.

“I was wondering…” she whispered, her voice hoarse with her pleasure, “I was wondering if I… if I could kiss you.”

“We’re already fucking, Astrid,” I laughed through my moans, “what’s a kiss?”

“A kiss is much more intimate than sex, Willowbud,” she said in a hushed, pleasured tone, “it’s a symbol of… never mind,” she said, her face turning red with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” I smiled, sliding my hand through her braided, blond hair, cupping her behind the ear, “I want you to kiss me.”

“You do?” she asked, her eyes brimming.

“Kiss me, Astrid,” I whispered, “but not like your god. Kiss me like your lover.”

Astrid looked into my eyes as her face hovered above mine. Her blue irises cast downward, gazing upon my parted lips, whose expirations sung with the sweet pleasure of her grinding hips. She lowered her face to mine, and pressed our mouths together. I expected her to be tentative and shy, to expose her virgin inexperience with awkward movements, but I was wrong. Astrid’s lips opened mine, and sucked with a gentle love as her tongue slid between us. I joined my loving member with hers, and we entwined in a heated, wet embrace. I found myself sinking into her mouth, tasting the sweet honey of her budding lust and drinking in the nectar of her love. Her kiss was seeped in affection, born of amorous tenderness and expressed without a hint of carnality.

Holy shit, I thought as I melted into her passion, this woman is in love with me.

ASTRID

My heart pounded in my chest as I tasted Willowbud’s kiss on my tongue. I rotated my lips around her, drinking the goddess in, feeling her lust seep into my mouth and radiate into my chest. She thrusted into my grinding hips with faster motions, not driving with violence, but with a methodical determination. Her relentless cadence matched the rhythm of my gyrations, and roiled my insides into a churning mess of pleasure. The aching, ballooning euphoria expanded slowly within me, driving me to new heights, tugging gently at the rational strings of my mind. I was losing myself to the feeling, drowning in the expansion of my lust, sinking into the depths of her driving heat. The soft love of our kiss began to wane in the intensity of the sex. The muffled moans that we shared within our mouths turned to wines of escalating passion, which turned to cries. Our kiss lost its tenderness, and turned into a carnal devouring of each other’s mouths; the passion compelling us to taste every inch of the other, to consume the other with desperate hedonism. Willowbud gripped me by the breasts and squeezed tightly, painfully, unable to control herself in the heat of our lust. I cried out as the wonderful stings and pressure sank into my chest, as her fingers were lost in the succulent meat of my breasts. The rotation of my hips ceased, and I drove my pelvis down, trying to take every inch of her that I could. She slammed into me, her crotch colliding with my pelvis, her cock driving into my tight channel, separating me, burning through the nerve-swathed flesh of my erogeneity, invading the sanctity of my womanhood. Her girth passed along my clit with every drive, mingling the pleasure of my external lust with the ferocious ecstasy of my internal defilement.

A new sensation awoke within me. It was a sensation that began within the center of my depravity, and simmered outward. It changed me. It compelled my body to bend with instinctual motions; my pelvis dropping, my back arching, my chest jutting forward, and my hands pressing into Willowbud’s bust, driving down to support my possessed curve. She squeezed my breasts harder as her own deformed in my pressing palms, and I began to pant and gasp as breath became scarce in my chest. Willowbud didn’t stop; she drove into me harder than before, losing her control to the same feeling that stole mine, colliding her body with mine as though she were trying to merge our very selves. The alien sensation began to grow in its intensity; a torrent of pleasure that seeped into every nerve and wracked every muscle, a tension that wound tighter and tighter, a felicitous pressure that always seemed on the verge of eruption, but didn’t release. My head flung skyward, my eyes bulged, by mouth gaped and cried out. The tension wound mercilessly, tighter and tighter, tortuously bringing me through the ecstatic reaches of sanity. Willowbud surged into me with a furious, desperate blast of thrusts, possessed with her passion, driven by her lustful madness. The tension wound, and wound and wound… and then snapped. I screamed as the euphoric release washed through my body, burning its fire into every extremity of my being. Willowbud’s voice joined mine as she erupted within me, exploding her exaltation into the sanctity of my womb. Our bodies twisted in the chaos of our catharsis, and the world shook beneath us, as if quaking with the same rapture that rumbled within our bodies.

I collapsed in exhaustion atop my god, my wings folding weakly to the ground behind me, draping over our sweating forms. We panted the last bit of euphoric madness from our bodies as the slick warmth of our flesh radiated into each other. Willowbud recovered first, and she took a grip of my hair, and lifted my face to hers. She kissed me with a burning passion, and I kissed her with loving gratefulness. I rolled us over so that I was on my back, and savored the weight of her body sinking into mine, and the hardness of her love still throbbing within me. She pulled from the kiss and looked into my eyes, her pine-colored gaze full of wonderous astonishment.

“What?” I asked, a blissful smile strewn lazily about my face.

“You’re fucking amazing, Astrid,” she said, “I’ve had strange of all kinds, but I’ve never had anything like you.”

“Well, thank you,” I giggled, feeling my face flush, “you were also amazing.”

“Eh, you don’t have anything to compare me to,” Willowbud smiled, “and I’m not giving you a chance to find out I suck; you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be yours,” I whispered, “no matter what.”

Willowbud smiled from the tops of her eyes, tracing a thumb through the luscious outline of my lips. She looked over her shoulder, and I noticed the statue for the first time. It was a thirty-foot monument of me; my back arched, my breasts jutted forward, my head tilted to the sky, and my wings splayed outward. It was born of the same rock that made up the outcropping, and was a picture-perfect sculpture, without a hint of chisel markings or errant carving.

“I didn’t mean to make that,” Willowbud said softly, “if I can’t control my power when I come, I usually just shift the earth beneath me; it isn’t subtle, but it keeps people from wondering. With you, the only thing I could think about was how beautiful you looked.” She turned to me, a worried expression on her face, “You’re going to cause me trouble, Astrid; I might actually give a shit about you.”

“From you, that means everything.” I smiled, feeling my heart almost burst from my chest. Willowbud smiled back, and snuggled atop me, making a pillow of my ample breasts and staring tiredly into my eyes. I pet her mess of pure-white hair into orderly rows beneath her ivory horns, and then closed my wings over us, blocking the mid-morning sun. Her green eyes drooped to slits, and then closed. Soon after, the sounds of her snores rang throughout the cocoon of feathers I had made. I smiled contentedly and felt my own eyelids grow heavy. It seemed that Tentigo could wait one more day.

WILLOWBUD

I knew I was dreaming, but that didn’t mean I was safe. I’d had dreams like this before, but they were supposed to be gone; she was supposed to be dead.

You can’t kill me, Corruption laughed softly, her voice a soothing drawl, like the hushed whisper of a loving mother, no more than you can kill the wind, Willowbud.

Corruption, a Sentient, one of three astral beings of mind and thought, of emotion and soul. Wrath and Sorrow were the other two, but no one had heard from them in a millennium. No one had heard from Corruption for twice as long, until she found me.

What do you want from me? I whispered to the void, my words tremoring on my lips.

I have something to show you. Corruption said.

I looked down, and saw that my body was not my own, but hers. It was slender, beautiful and black as obsidian. I saw the world through Corruption’s eyes, and this world was painfully familiar. I stood in the canopy of a massive tree, its branches wider than roadways, its trunk thicker than a house, its stature taller than the highest tower. I was in Arbortus, my home, and in the convergence of branches and leaves, stood a nymph man and a nymph woman, Pinebark and Flora Autumnsong, smiling over the cradle of a newborn babe, of me.

I was here, Corruption said, I was with you since the beginning.

No, I whispered back, no, that’s impossible! You were in Drastin when I found you!

I found you much sooner. Corruption replied, You just couldn’t see me. I’ve been watching over you since you left the womb.

The image blurred and refocused. I was floating along the treetops, flying side-by-side with a toddler version of myself. Toddler-me laughed and giggled as she jumped from branch to branch, fearlessly leaping gaps that dropped hundreds of feet, deftly catching knobs and knolls of bark to break her fall. She slid down a sloping branch and leaped head-first into the canopy that was her home. Her ears were immediately assaulted by yelling voices; Mother and Father were fighting. They didn’t see her enter, and she crouched behind a drape of foliage, afraid of their shouting.

“Flora, she’s your daughter.” Father said in his usual, calm voice, “So what if she’s different?”

“Different?” Mother screamed, “She’s a freak! This wasn’t supposed to happen to me; my sister was born with the sins of our father! I was supposed to be safe!”

“Flora,” Father said, putting his hands on Mother’s shoulders, “it’s alright.”

“It’s what the witch promised,” Mother sputtered, tears falling from her eyes, “the seed of an incubus will inoculate the womb with one whore, and all children sired thereafter will be pure. Tera was the cursed one, not I! She was born the succubus, she was born the whore, yet my womb carried an abomination!”

“Willowbud is completely normal,” Father said comfortingly as he held Mother, “it’s just one thing, just one little thing. It’s not a curse, Flora; it’s a blessing. She can father us grandchildren with a woman, and mother them with a man.”

“And pass on that repulsive heritage?!” Mother screamed, “She will not sire children in my forest! Not while I am a matriarch!”

Toddler-me didn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversation. She was afraid and confused, but she was smart enough to know that Mother was talking about her, and she wasn’t saying anything nice. She ran out of the canopy, ducking and dodging through trunks and branches, tears falling from her eyes. She fell to her knees at the end of a branch and sobbed quietly, alone. Somehow, she knew the loin cloth she was forced to wear was a symbol of something bad. None of the other nymph children had to wear clothes, but toddler-me did, and she didn’t know why. A squirrel chirped noisily at the other end of the branch, seeming to mock the girl. My hands, Corruption’s hands, reached outward, and tenderly pet the pure-white hair of the child. Her sobbing stopped, and she looked over at the teasing squirrel. The rodent continued to squeak away its supposed insults, and then a rock flew out of nowhere, and decapitated the thing in a spray of red and pink. Toddler-me laughed gleefully, and I felt Corruption’s smile form on my dreaming lips.

I made the pain go away, Willowbud. Corruption laughed, enjoying the spectacle now as much as she did then, I always did.

A band-aid for an axe-wound. I replied coldly.

More like opium, actually. Corruption countered softly.

The world blurred, and then refocused. I stood behind child-me, no more than five years old. She was standing alongside her father in the highest reaches of the canopy, so high that the sun gleamed uninterrupted through the thin ceiling of leaves.

“Alright,” Father said excitedly, “do you see the racoon in that nest?”

“Yes,” child-me grinned up at him, “he’s not supposed to be there, is he Daddy?”

“No, he’s not.” Father grinned, “He’s being a very naughty raccoon. What do we do to naughty racoons?”

A pebble shot through the air, and struck the robbing racoon right in the ass. The racoon squeaked in pain and surprise, and then scampered down the tree.

“Fuck yeah!” Father exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down like a little kid.

“Ooo,” child-me said, “you broke the rule, Daddy!”

“I was testing to make sure you still knew them,” Father smiled slyly to me, “what are they, Willowbud?”

“Don’t swear, don’t kill, and never, ever, show anyone my super-powers.” Child-me recited.

“That’s right,” Father said, and the knelt in front of child-me, “and those last two are the most important of all, Willowbud. I found that dear by Ashblossom’s tree.”

“It wasn’t me.” Child-me lied, twisting her fingers behind herself and rocking back and forth on her feet. Father’s smile never broke as he saw through her lie. He had a way of saying important things, and teaching important lessons without any gravity or sternness.

“Killing animals isn’t what nymphs do,” Father said, pulling child-me up and allowing her to ride atop his shoulders, “other people do, but we are the caretakes of the forest, the followers of The Life Givers, and we do not take what has been given.”

Stop, I said to Corruption, feeling my heart sinking into my chest, don’t you ever show him to me, you cunt!

He was a good man, Willowbud, Corruption replied softly as the dream blurred, the only one you ever loved. The only person who loved you more than I.

Get the fuck out of my head! I screamed, but was only answered with another of Corruption’s memories.

Child-me was aboard a ship to Tentigo. She was sad and afraid, clutching a pouch full of gold. It was my Mother’s parting gift, after she’d discovered what I was. The nymphs were Creationists, of sorts, but they only worshipped The Life Giver. All other gods were considered lesser, and Mother said my presence was a threat to the entire forest. She took me to the docks herself, telling no one what she was doing. She did it while Father was away, so that he wouldn’t leave with me. Even at five years old, I knew it was just Mother’s way of getting rid of me; she just needed an excuse.

I was standing right behind my younger self, my ethereal, black body not effected by the nauseating sways of the vessel. Child-me was in terrible, inconsolable pain, and Corruption could take the pain away. My black hands caressed the sobbing child, who clutched the bag of gold tightly to her chest; the only thing she had left of home. She didn’t want to spend it, she didn’t want to let it go. The only value the fortune had to her, was the nostalgic smell of maple sap that still wafted faintly from the leather of the pouch. Corruption whispered her soothing song from my dreaming lips, and into child-me’s ear. Corruption made it easy to let the gold go. It was just rock, after all; rock cast and carved into coins, but rock nonetheless. Rock I could control, rock I could make hurt people. Hurting things made the pain leave; killing things made me happy. The coins blasted from the pouch, punching holes in the deck, punching holes in the hull, punching holes in the crew. Men screamed, men cried, men begged, and men died. It felt good to kill them. It felt so, fucking, good! Never show anyone your powers, Father’s voice whispered from Corruption’s lips, to child-me’s ears, you can’t let anyone know what you are, or they’ll hurt you like Mommy did. When the ship crashed into the docks of Drastin the next morning, nobody found a man left alive.

Child-me lived like a pauper in the streets of Drastin. She was lost and alone in the beastly metropolis, consumed by its endless maze of alleys and dead ends. I rested my black hands on her shoulders and tried to whisper my song into her ear, but she wouldn’t listen to me any longer; she was too ashamed of what she’d done. Don’t swear, don’t kill, don’t show them what you are. She would never break those rules again, she would abide by them until she died. She found her way into an orphanage. The children there were mean to her, but she didn’t fight back. A boy pushed her down the stairs, a girl stole her food, the orphans blamed her when things went awry, when they needed a scapegoat for the deeds they’d done. I pleaded to help her, I cried for her to listen, but she wouldn’t. Willowbud was cast into the streets. Willowbud was left alone. Willowbud began to starve. She begged for food on the cold stones, but no one paid her heed. She wept alone in the dark alleys, but no one heard her cries.

But I heard you, Willowbud, Corruption said softly, I listened.

You should have let me die. I whispered back, feeling a knot bulging in my throat.

Dark shadows leered in the alleyway. Willowbud scampered to her feet, trying to find a way out, but the shadows blocked the dead-end entrance. They sniggered threateningly as they neared her, smelling of booze and sweat, sounding of merciless intent. Willowbud felt the earth and rocks beneath her, she felt the power she had over them, but her father’s words cut into her mind, don’t swear, don’t kill, don’t show them what you are. Willowbud wouldn’t break his rules again. Willowbud would find another way out of this. Willowbud wouldn’t listen to my desperate screams, begging her to fight, begging her to kill. The shadows converged on her. The shadows surrounded her. The shadows took her.

The dawn cast its golden light on Willowbud’s broken form, splayed in the alleyway. I stood over her as her eyes opened to slits, and narrowed to focus. She could see me now, for the first time in her life. A dim shadow against the sun, barely visible, but there. I leaned forward and caressed the wet cheek of the child. She smiled weakly, recognition dawning in her blood-shot eyes; she knew that touch. I leaned forward, took her bloodied face in my hands, and kissed her softly on the lips. She accepted me, and opened her mind for me; opened that space left vacant in the minds of elves and nymphs, that space reserved for things like Corruption. I felt Corruption’s joy in my dream, brimming from an ethereal heart as she finally joined with the girl she loved. The last image I saw from the Sentient’s perspective, was of me, staring blankly at the sun; the white sclera of my eyes turning black.

Don’t show me anymore! I screamed to Corruption, Find someone else to torment!

Torment? Corruption’s voice sounded wounded, Willowbud, this is a love letter.

Willowbud didn’t starve anymore. Willowbud didn’t beg anymore. Willowbud didn’t hurt anymore. I saw though Corruption’s eyes, and she saw through Willowbud’s. She made the hard decisions easy. Stealing became easy, hurting became easy, killing became easy. Willowbud wasn’t a loner anymore; she made friends. A gang of thieves and burglars, of thugs and killers, and she was the worst of them all, the ring-leader. She swore them to secrecy, she told them she’d torture them to death if they told a soul of her true nature, and they listened; they’d seen her do it before. Banks were robbed, stage coaches were held-up, gambling halls were ransacked. Willowbud’s gang became notorious, and she got a name for herself: Night Eyes.

Night Eyes grew from a girl, to a teenager. Night Eyes began to get strange desires. Night Eyes became very interested in brothels. She paid the madam, she walked up the stairs, and she found the woman. Night Eyes didn’t like how the woman touched her, how the woman controlled her, how the woman led her through lust like a child. Night Eyes took control, Night Eyes grabbed and choked, Night Eyes pulled and thrusted. The woman screamed, the woman begged, the woman pleaded, and Night Eyes laughed. The woman surrendered, the woman moaned, and the woman came; writhing in a euphoria that was forced upon her. Night Eyes discovered something that night; Night Eyes found that she liked to rape.

STOP! I screamed, Please, stop!

You are who you are, Willowbud, Corruption said comfortingly, you should accept and love yourself, as I love and accept you.

That’s not me, I said, choking on tears I couldn’t cry, not anymore.

But it is. Corruption hissed, I didn’t make the decisions for you, I just made them easy.

I hate you.

Only as much as you hate yourself, Corruption replied, and I took that hatred away, didn’t I? You think that winged-warrior you’re fucking can give you peace? You will pour your self-loathing into her, you will make her bear the burdens of your conscience, and you will drive her away.

No, I croaked, she will stay with me.

She will not, Corruption said consolingly, apologetically, and you know it, Willowbud.

Leave me, I said through gritted teeth, I will not see you again!

Oh, you will, Corruption chuckled, her voice as alluring as it was threatening, we can’t avoid each other for long, can we? We’re kindred spirits, Willowbud; we belong together.

Leave me, I whispered, please.

For a moment, I thought she had. The dream faded from my mind, the sounds of the woman’s pleasured screams and horrified sobs dwindling to a drone. The world became black and silent.

It’s absolutely lovely, this time of year, Corruption whispered, her voice so loud it quaked in my skull, In Tentigo.

ASTRID

It was dark out when I felt the disturbance. I opened my eyes, and saw Willowbud shaking me awake. Her green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and they were wide with fear. She said something about Tentigo, about the ancient Sentients, about Corruption. Her sentences were jumbled and frantic, but I deciphered the meaning behind them. The Sentients were things of legend, long thought to be gone, but so were The Creators. I threw on my armor with practiced speed as Willowbud tied the harness to my body. I strapped the Sword of Iona to my back, and launched us into the sky. It was dangerous to fly at night, but the Gratoran Wall shielded us from wind gusts, and the desert was barren of nighttime predators. The dim tree line of the Tentigo Tropics finally appeared in the darkness, and Willowbud directed me to the location of the colony. I thought it might be hard to find in the night, but it was easy; the raging fire in the treetops marked it starkly against the black sky.

“Oh, shit.” Willowbud said, her voice barely audible against the rushing wind.

I flew over to the blaze, which burned crimson with the wet, tropical wood, and spewed smoke into the night air. Beneath the billowing layer of refuse and heat, I saw the chaos. The nymphs were like savages; killing, raping, and burning. They committed their atrocities with grins stitched across their faces, as though the grimace was a permanent fixture to their manic portraits. Even the wounded and dying cackled their death throes with the mirth of the insane.

“What has happened to them?” I gasped in horror.

“Corruption whispered to them,” Willowbud replied solemnly, “and they listened.”

“Can they be saved?”

“No,” Willowbud said quietly, “she didn’t meld with them; she broke them completely. She doesn’t care about them.”

“But she cares about you, doesn’t she?” I asked, looking down at the top of her horned head, “You know Corruption, don’t you?”

“She’s an old friend,” Willowbud said dryly, “and she misses me very much. Drop me on that plateau; I need to feel the earth.”

I swooped to the jutting rock that towered above the trees, and knelt so that Willowbud’s feet touched the granite. She looked over the landscape, from the burning treetops in the valley below, to the hillside adjacent to our plateau.

“Willowbud,” I asked carefully, a sickening feeling forming in my stomach, “what are you going to do?”

“What I have to.” Willowbud replied, her voice cracking. She was crying. She stepped out of the harness and walked to the edge of the outcropping, trying to keep her composure as she assessed the landscape; she was failing. Her hands were trembling, her knees were wobbling, and her feet moved almost drunkenly. I walked behind her and wrapped her in my arms, embracing her in my love, pulling her to the safety of my bosom. Her haggard breathing grew steady, her drumming heart calmed, and her quivering body relaxed to solemn equanimity. A moment of peace passed between us, and then the entire hillside sheared as though it had been cut with a knife, and swept across the burning colony in seconds. The fires were quenched beneath the earth as the trees flattened and the huts disintegrated. The roar of shifting earth was deafening, but the silence that followed was somehow louder. Soft whimpers broke the still air as Willowbud collapsed to her knees in front of me. I held her to my breast and stroked her hair as she wetted my sleeve with her sorrow. I nuzzled my lips and nose into the nape of her neck and kissed her softly, trying to ease the pain that tormented her.

“She wanted me to hurt,” Willowbud cried, “she knew it would be easier to get to me.”

“She’s gone, Willowbud,” I whispered, “she can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No,” Willowbud sniffled, “she’s been behind us this whole time.”

Icy fear crept up my spine as I slowly turned my head. I’d seen astral beings before; they’re usually formless blurs that flit aimlessly about. This thing- this woman, was not formless. She was a sleek silhouette of a human woman; entirely black, with eyes that bore white irises, but black sclera. Her face was beautiful and youthful; a heart-shaped outline decorated with almond eyes, a pointed nose, and lips that pouted and creased with a cupid’s bow. Her sleek, subtly-curved body moved with a languidness that was both seductive and unnatural. She smiled to me, and the set of white teeth she displayed contrasted her entirely-black figure.

Astrid, she said without her lips, her voice speaking softly into my mind, her words hissing with a soothing drawl, Valkyrie of Iona, daughter of High Guard Freydis, bearer of the Sword of Iona. I am truly delighted to make your acquaintance.

“Don’t touch her, Corruption!” Willowbud yelled raggedly from behind me, “It’s me you want!”

Willowbud is very taken with you, Corruption smiled, stepping toward me, it would seem that the best course for me, would be to take you under my wings, and let her follow in your footsteps.

I reached back for my sword as the sinuous, black figure neared me. I pulled the weapon from its sheath and swiped downward in a deft, practiced motion, but the blade only passed through her. She reached forward, and touched a hand to my cheek. My sword dropped from my hands, and clattered to the stone.

Oh… gods… the pleasure! A mingling of joy, satisfaction, love and sexual ecstasy swelled within every inch of me. Its euphoria brought tears to my eyes, and my body to its knees. I stared up at the woman’s black eyes, looking into the promising, white irises that smiled back at me.

You don’t have hatred, Astrid, she whispered soothingly, her voice caressing the back of my mind, but you do have ambition, and I can work with that. Your mother is the High Guard of Iona, but why should she be? Didn’t you find the goddess? Didn’t you win the sword? They say you won it on luck, that Freydis stumbled before she delivered the critical strike, but isn’t the warrior who keeps her footing the better swordswoman?

“Yes,” I said, my grin hurting my face, my eyes flowing with tears, “yes! I was the better warrior that day! I found the goddess! I should be the High Guard!”

Of course you should, Corruption laughed, her agreement filling my heart with joy, we just have to get your pesky mother out of the way. How do you think we should do that?

“Kill her!” I laughed, clapping my hands in glee, “Kill her in front of everyone! Kill her so that everyone knows I was always her better!”

That sounds like a fantastic idea, Corruption smiled, kneeling so that our faces were at eye-level, and what do we do after?

“I will take Willowbud with me to Iona!” I said excitedly, “I will make love to her every night, and become pregnant with her child! I will show the world how much I love her, how devoted I am to her, how I would kill and die for her! I will help her conquer lands, I will slaughter her enemies, I will erect statues of her upon the ashes of cities we’ve razed, so that all know that Astrid and Willowbud are the masters of this land! I will birth her a child, and spawn a new dynasty; an empire the likes of which the world has never seen!”

But what of the other gods, Astrid? Corruption asked, her lips nearing mine, What of The Life Giver, and The Heat Bringer?

“They will bend the knee!” I laughed manically, “They will prostrate before the true god, Willowbud, or they will be crushed!”

That is an excellent plan, Corruption whispered, her lips baring no breath, I can make it happen, Astrid; all you have to do, is kiss me.

I leaned forward to accept her kiss, but I felt a familiar hand stop me. I looked over my shoulder, and saw Willowbud shaking her head. She was crying, still grieving for the weak pieces of shit she buried under a hillside. I will help you kill hundreds of thousands more, I thought as I looked at her, you will learn to be strong, I will help you. I turned away from my god, and parted my lips to accept the promise of Corruption. A hand of stone burst from the ground and clasped my face, pushing me backward. I screamed my objection as Willowbud intercepted Corruption’s kiss with her own lips.

WILLOWBUD

Hello, old friend, Corruption whispered in my mind, It’s been too long.

I dropped to my knees as the euphoria took hold of my body. It raced through every vein, electrified every nerve, awakened every muscle, and sank its dopamine into the center of my mind. Her lips opened against mine, and poured her sweet kiss into my mouth. I felt myself melting into her, leaning toward the promise that lay between her lips, but I resisted. I’d resisted her before, I’d cast her out before, I could do it again. She parted from our kiss, her eyes smirking into my own.

Oh, child, she chuckled, you’ve grown so much since we last saw each other. Just a year ago you were running brothels and leading street gangs, now you’re destroying colonies. What’s next, I wonder; cities? Kingdoms? Empires?

“Fuck you,” I laughed, my euphoric grimace glued to my face, “go rot in the hole you crawled out of.”

Ah, but you don’t care for that kind of power, do you? Corruption smiled, ignoring my wrath, You have a taste for something more personal… more intimate.

“You have nothing to give me,” I cried out, cackling my words through my mania, “nothing I want!”

For you, power is only as good as the people who know you have it, Corruption sighed, clasping her hands together behind my neck and smiling at me, you need to see their subservience, you need to see their awe and fear. You need to see their pain.

“You don’t know me!” I screamed, “Not anymore!”

You made such sweet love to Astrid, Corruption whispered, pressing her ethereal, black body against mine, separating her thighs about my waist, you were so kind to her, so loving in the way you took her virginity. That’s not you, Willowbud; I know how you really like to treat women.

“Not me…” I said, the seduction of Corruption’s body and promise melting into me, weakening me, “not me…”

Yes, you, Corruption laughed softly, trailing a teasing hand through my hair, don’t deny it, not to me. I remember the things you did to your whores. I remember the things you made them do to you, and to each other. I remember the feeling it gave you, the power you lusted for. We could do those things to Astrid.

“No…”

She is so devoted to you, Corruption smiled as she pressed her crotch to my erection, so unconditionally in love with you. She said she’d do anything for you, Willowbud, and she meant it. I know you enjoy raping women, but I think I can give you something better. It’s only a small step, after all, to go from love to slavery.

“No,” I said, the words seeming to come from elsewhere, “I don’t want to…”

Imagine her on her knees, Corruption gasped as she took me inside her, staring up at you with eyes full of devotion, full of love. Imagine her in chains; begging you to stop, begging you for mercy; then begging you to keep going, and begging you for more. We can turn your guardian angel into your disgusting whore.

“Please…” I murmured. Corruption’s dripping heat surrounded me, her vulgar muscles consumed me, her body sunk its intoxicating warmth into my flesh.

Imagine twisting her, breaking her, molding her until she becomes the woman you want. Corruption moaned, Isn’t that your darkest desire, Willowbud? To take something beautiful and pure, and turn it into something as dark and twisted as you?

“No…”

I know why you are the way you are, Willowbud, Corruption whispered through her lust, her delicate fingers petting my hair affectionately, I know what the creatures of the alleys did to you when you were young. They broke you, they stole your innocence, they robbed you of virtue and goodness; that’s why you do it to others. That’s why you see someone as whole and pure as Astrid, and you want to defile her, mar her, corrupt her. It’s your way of coping with it; coping with the shame of letting those men take you so easily.

“…please…”

It’s why you melded with me so seamlessly. She hissed, her tongue licking across my trembling lips, I don’t judge you, Willowbud; I except you for what you are. I love you more than anyone else ever could.

I didn’t respond. Words would not form in my mouth, and thoughts would not string together in my mind. Corruption’s temptation was a needle for a junkie, a bottle for a booze-hound, a pipe for an opium addict. It was the promise of self-acceptance, of a life without shame, of freedom; true freedom. The freedom from yourself. Corruption wrapped her legs around me and embraced me like a lover. Her kiss found its way on my lips, and her pelvis found its way to my crotch. She drew me into her vile seduction, her intoxicating cancer. I took hold of her, I lifted her weightless form, and I turned her around. I bent her over, planted my hands into the fat of her ass, and fucked her like she knew I wanted to. Dominating, controlling, hateful. My hand came down on her ass again and again, my other hand took hold of her black hair and ripped it backward. The muscles on her back flexed in strain, the movement of her hips became desperate, her face looked up at me from the tops of her black eyes and gave me the expression I wanted. Fear, pain, pleasure. I knew she was manipulating me, I knew she was seducing me, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to hear her scream, I just wanted to hear the tones of her sexual surrender, and she gave them to me. She screamed that sweet tenor of shame, agony and ecstasy. That harmony of weakness, of acceptance, of submission. She gave me that power; the power to make someone need something that hurt them, the power to make someone love something they hated. The power those men had over me, when I was so young.

I can make you love yourself, Corruption whispered telepathically, the sultry drawl of her mind contrasting the panicked screams of her mouth, I can make the pain go away, Willowbud. I can make you shameless; invincible to your own soul.

“Just… one… thing…” I managed to say through my fugue state of lust and hatred, through my fog of desire and disgust.

Anything. Corruption whispered back, her mouth now sobbing and begging.

“Not… Astrid…” I said, my mouth growling and moaning, my hips slamming into her, “you… can’t… have… her!”

She won’t save you from me, Corruption said apologetically, and you can’t save her from yourself.

“NOT… HER!” I screamed, feeling the pressure in my loins reaching the boiling point.

OK, Willowbud, I accept. Corruption said softly, conciliatorily, as she wailed agonized pleasure from her mouth, Welcome back, old friend.

I stopped resisting her. I gave the last of myself up and drowned in her sweet temptation. Corrupt me, twist me, use me. Make me who I already am. I’m yours, my beautiful hatred, my twisted lust, my broken soul.

ASTRID

My mind faded from Corruption’s power, and focused on the scene before me. Willowbud looked like she was trying to break the black spirit in half. Corruption’s head was upside down, her neck stretched backward, her chest forced forward, her belly distended, and her back arching so vulgarly that her ass was level with her crown. This lecherous curve was anchored by the vicious pull of her hair, which strained her scalp as Willowbud sadistically yanked backward. Despite the pained position she was in, Corruption’s mouth wailed an ecstasy so intense her voice was cracking. Her black eyes bulged, her screaming lips quivered, her body swung from her pulled hair like a lecherous pendulum; smashing back and forth onto the point of her penetration as she writhed helplessly beneath the god. Willowbud fucked the astral being with inhuman speed, rippling supple flesh outward from Corruption’s battered backside. The two vibrated and writhed in a performance of violent lust that matched the animalistic symphony of their mouths. Sadistic growls mixed with pained screams, snarls mixed with whimpers, laughs mixed with sobs. Their connected forms accelerated into a blur of jiggling flesh, flailing hair and spraying fluids. They moved faster and faster, harder and harder, driving their hate-fueled joining into a brutal crescendo that built and built, until it reached its soprano note, and the two vibrated upon the paralytic precipice; stuck in a moment of primal intensity that held them in rigid stasis. Then, they came. They came violently, screaming with throes of release that wracked their forms into a splay of powerless flaccidity. Corruption’s arms and legs gave out, and she collapsed to her stomach. Willowbud dropped to her knees in euphoria, and she fell upon the spirit with her cock still buried. The two panted and heaved in the last tremors of their lust, and then they kissed. A hedonistic, vulgar kiss of pure greed, of ownership. Corruption stared at me from behind Willowbud’s head, and gave me a parting wink before she melted into black wisps. Willowbud drank in the misty essence of the Sentient, and then rolled to her side, and went limp.

“Willowbud?” I asked, fear tinging my words. Willowbud stayed motionless for a moment longer, and then rolled languidly to her side. The whites of her eyes were pitch-black with Corruption. They stared lazily at me, as though I were a mere passing interest, but their regard was seeped in danger. She smiled, and the nonchalant grin that stretched across her lips was as threatening as the glare of her green irises. Despair sunk its weight into my stomach, and I slumped on the ground. Willowbud had lost.

“Why the long face, Astrid?” Willowbud laughed easily as she stretched herself; cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders.

“Corruption has you,” I said, feeling helpless, “you’ve melded with her.”

“I have,” Willowbud said, closing her eyes as she stretched her back, “but Corruption doesn’t own me, Astrid; she just makes me… more of myself.”

“No,” I said, “she takes away your morals and inhibitions, the things that make you a person.”

“Are you saying I’m no longer a person?” Willowbud chuckled with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re no longer you.” I whispered. Willowbud seemed to consider that for a moment. She cocked her head and stared at the night sky, looking at the stars through the remnants of smoke.

“It occurs to me,” Willowbud mused, studying the constellations, “that I made Corruption spare you, so that you could save me from her, eventually.”

“How did you kill her before?” I asked, “Tell me, and I’ll help you do it now!”

“I killed my father.” Willowbud said nonchalantly, as though she were speaking of the weather, “He searched for me for a decade, and when he found me, I fucked his brains out, and slit his throat.”

I gaped at Willowbud, but she just smiled back.

“I guess it stirred a little guilt in me,” Willowbud said, “and Corruption can’t handle guilt. She tried to convince me not to care, but it didn’t work for her. I began to resist her, I began to defy her, and eventually, I cast her from myself. She had become so dependent on me, that without my mind to hold her, she withered away.”

“So…” I said, my voice hushed, “you have to kill me, to save yourself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Willowbud laughed, “I don’t care nearly enough to feel guilty about murdering you!”

That hit me like a ton of bricks. My face dropped in rejection, and my shoulders slumped even more. Of course, I thought, a tear streaking down my cheek, why would I think otherwise? One day of passion doesn’t kindle love; I’m an idiot.

“Oh…” Willowbud groaned in mock consolation, “you didn’t think I actually gave a shit about you, did you? This must sting.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling tears burning my eyes, “it does.”

Willowbud stood up and sauntered over to me. Her gait was exaggerated in its sultry nature; each step shifting a hip with lascivious grace, each motion advertising the pleasure she could offer. She had changed so much in such a short time. She stopped in front of my kneeling form, and beckoned my crying face to look up with a gentle hand on my chin.

“Am I still your god, Astrid?” Willowbud asked, her black eyes gleaming, her smirk crooked.

“Yes,” I said through falling tears, “always.”

“I know that I insisted you treat me as your equal,” Willowbud said, brushing away my tears with her thumb, “but I think we’ll change that. You are not my equal, Astrid; you are shit.”

“Yes.” I said, feeling numb. I had failed her. I had failed her, and I deserved this.

“I believe you have oaths to speak,” Willowbud said, trailing her caressing hand possessively along my cheek, and to my neck, “oaths that I so rudely interrupted when we first met.”

“Great Earth Former, goddess of mountains and rock; I am not worthy.” I whispered, the tears falling freely again, “As a winged-warrior of Iona, it is my sworn-duty to serve you. I have oaths I must speak to you, and hope that you accept them. I am your sword, I am your shield, I am your armor. I am your watcher in the night, I am your wings in the morning. I am your-”

“You are my whore, Astrid,” Willowbud interrupted, her words a soft whisper, her hand wrapping around my throat, “you are my beast of burden. You are my toy when I want to play, and my slave when I want to work. Say it.”

“I am your whore,” I said through hushed sobs, “I am your beast of burden. I am your toy when you want to play, I am your slave when you want to work.”

“Good,” Willowbud chuckled, her hand leaving my throat, and trailing leeringly down my bust, “you said it with such conviction, but you couldn’t possibly have meant it. That’s fine for now; there will be time enough for you to learn.”

Willowbud knelt before me, until our eyes were level. I averted my gaze, no longer sure if I should prostrate reverently, or look her in the eye. I had a feeling that I would be punished no matter what I did. As if on cue, the back of Willowbud’s hand crashed into the side of my face. I spun to the ground, and lay still, uncertain if I should cower for her, or stoically accept my punishment.

“I understand that the dramatic change in our relationship is jarring,” Willowbud said from above, “but we should always see things eye-to-eye. I can’t trust someone afraid to hold my gaze; it makes me wonder what they’re hiding from me.”

Willowbud stepped over me, and then straddled across my torso. She reached forward, and caressed the red mark she’d left on my cheek. Somehow, her gentleness was more frightening than her violence, and she knew it. She grinned as I cringed away from her, and then she leaned forward, and planted a closed-lip kiss on my lips. Our eyes didn’t shut in the kiss, but connected above our pressing lips. Hers gleamed with the power she had over me, and mine quivered for the same reasons.

“It would have been a mercy to let Corruption have you,” Willowbud whispered, her lips pulling from my mouth, “it would have been so much easier for you. You would have broken willingly, enthusiastically, even, but that’s no fun for me.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice a terrified hiss.

“We’re going to play a game, you and I,” she smiled, tracing her thumb about my trembling lips, “your goal is to save me from Corruption, and my goal is to turn you into the whore you swore to be. I am going to do things to you, Astrid; things you couldn’t imagine. In time, you may find you enjoy these things. In time, you might beg me to do them to you. I can’t wait to see what you become.”

“I will save you, Willowbud,” I said, swallowing my fear, “I will play your game, and I will win.”

“I like the confidence,” Willowbud smirked, “but Astrid, if you ever call me by my name again, I will brand your perfect, little ass with a hot iron.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.” I replied weakly.

“‘Master’ will do nicely,” Master said, standing up, “or ‘Mistress,’ if you feel like it. We’re going to Drastin now, and I don’t really feel like having to explain my divinity to every swinging dick that overhears us.”

“Drastin?” I asked quietly, “Now?”

“Yes, now, you dumb bitch!” Mistress laughed, “You think I want to spend another fucking night in the goddamn wilderness?! I need the smell of a city, the teeming, churning mess of people living in debauched misery. I’ve been absent for too long, and that town just ain’t the same without me. I’ll introduce you to some old friends of mine; you’ll love ‘em, trust me. Well, maybe not,” Willowbud chuckled, “but they’ll definitely love you.”

I got to my feet, trembling from all that had transpired, and what was going to transpire. I picked up the rope, and began tying the harness together, my shaking fingers defying me with every knot.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mistress asked.

“Getting your harness ready, Mistress.” I said, keeping my head bowed.

“I’m not riding in that fucking thing!” Mistress laughed, “You’re my horse, Astrid, and I’m riding you barebacked. Now, turn that pretty ass around and get on your knees, or I’m buying spurs the moment we land in Drastin.”

I turned around and got on my knees, and Mistress hopped on my back and gave me an ‘encouraging’ kick in the flank. I spread my wings, and launched us into the sky. Mistress sat astride my lower back, occasionally smacking me in the ass to direct my flight, sometimes digging her heels into my ribs. Four hours later, the distant sprawl of torchlight marked the massive human capital on the horizon. Despite her brutish nature during the trip, I was not relieved for it to be over. Mistress had grand plans for me, and they were to be realized within the dark corners of this beastly city. I was terrified, exhausted and sore, but I still held a flame of resolve. I had a mission now. The mission might break me, might corrupt me, might twist and change me, but I was determined to complete it. I would save Mistress from Corruption, and return Willowbud to this world. She was my god, my purpose, and my love. I had failed all of my oaths, but I would not fail this one.

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Chapter Four: Drastin

BRANDON

“So,” I said as we walked down the dirt path to Drastin; Tera on one side of me, and Justina on the other, “the Heat Bringer can ignite with the force of a volcano, the Earth Former can level entire mountains, and I can grow fucking plants.”

I held the disappointing tulip in my palm, whose sickly-looking flower drooped pathetically after growing another inch. Tera, who I’d since relieved of her lustful slavery, laughed.

“You can do more than grow plants, Brandon,” the succubus said, affectionately placing a hand on my arm, “you can stop people from dying, you can create life from nothing, you can-”

“Grow weed!” I exclaimed excitedly as a marijuana plant sprouted from my hand, “Why didn’t I think of that before?!”

“You can also do that,” Tera smiled, plucking the herb from my hand and placing it in her pouch, “but we’ll need to keep a clear head in Drastin.”

I had thought Tera would be furious with me after the things I made her do during her night as my slave, but she didn’t seem to mind in the least. In fact, she was more than a little friendly with me. She didn’t worship me like she did two nights ago (and my god, does that woman know how to treat divinity), but she did openly flirt with me, and let me ‘feed her’ each night while we camped. The touch of the succubus no longer affected me, not in the magical sense, but her company was still quite distracting. Her hair was a sheen of onyx luxury beneath her satanic horns, her complexion was bronze and unblemished, her face bore impossibly full lips, large, violet eyes, and high, blushing cheeks, and beneath the cloak she was wearing, her body was a vulgar display of sex. Her daughter, Justina, bore the same features as her mother, though her face was fuller, and her body was that of a teenager, not quite fully-developed. Both women had pointed tails protruding from their supple backsides, and both women moved and talked with the natural seduction of their breed, though they did differ in personality. Tera was as cunning as she was charming, and ruthless when she needed to be, while her daughter was practical and infinitely curious.

“Hey, Brandon!” Angela blurted from Justina’s mouth, “Keep practicing; you need to make me a new body!”

And that was the fourth member of our group: Angela, my dead twin sister, who had taken up residence in Justina’s brain.

“You could live in this ladybug I made,” I smiled to Justina, whose eyes had turned Angela’s pale blue, “I worked for hours on it.”

“It has ten legs and three heads,” Angela said frankly, “I’m not an entomologist, but I think you might’ve fucked up.”

“It’s a true marvel,” Tera said, squeezing my arm encouragingly, “a miracle of nature.”

“It’s an abomination and should be burned with fire!” Angela spat, “At this rate, I’ll be lucky if you manage to make me a body with an asshole for a mouth.”

“Your attitude is not conducive to productive learning,” I smiled at my sister, “you’ve been so sour lately. You know what Dad always says: if everything smells like shit, check under your own nose.”

“You’re fucking hilarious.” Angela grumbled, and then receded into Justina’s mind, allowing the succubus to regain her violet eyes.

“I thought it was pretty funny.” Tera smiled up at me, resting her head on my shoulder. I smiled back, put my arm around her, and walked the path to Drastin with an extra spring in my step, as Tera walked with a slight limp in hers.

WILLOWBUD

Goddamn, it felt good to be back in Drastin. I sored over the city atop Astrid, taking in the smells and sights, breathing in the thick, rancid air of a million people, crammed together. Onlookers gawked at us as we zipped through the maze of stone spires in downtown, flying past churches, government buildings and commercial towers that jutted defiantly into the sky. I mused for a moment about what kind of destruction I could cause in a city build almost entirely of stone, but I shook the thought from my mind. What fun would Drastin be if it was rubble? Now that we’d melded, Corruption didn’t speak to me, but thrummed steadily in my mind, a calming whisper of nihilistic indifference. Do what you want, Willowbud; what does it matter? the whisper seemed to say, and I readily complied with it. It was a much easier set of rules to follow than my father’s, don’t swear, don’t kill, don’t show them what you are, though, the last one was something I generally still abided by. For now. I directed Astrid to fly into the brothel district, my old stomping grounds. We landed in the middle of a busy street, sending pedestrians sprawling to avoid the fourteen-feet of incoming wings. I gave Astrid a congratulatory smack on the ass for a successful landing, and then hopped off.

Whispers and exclamations greeted my ears. “Valkyrie,” they yelled, “Iona,” they shouted, “Night Eyes,” they gasped, “she’s back,” they whispered. The crowd’s mood changed from awe at the sight of the majestic Astrid, to fear at the sight of me. I grinned at their horrified faces; they had good reason to be afraid. People averted their gazes, shutters were slammed above me, doors were locked and ‘closed’ signs were hung. I laughed a hearty, pleased laughed at my reception, took my vehicle by her hand, and made my way to my old safehouse.

“The Screeching Siren” wasn’t the most ostentatious of brothels, but it wasn’t the dirtiest either. Technically, I owned the place, but being a pimp was never my calling. Playing with the merchandise is fun, but actually selling it is another story. When I opened the door to the brothel, my ears were assaulted with the laughs, yells, moans and screams I was accustomed to. When I walked in, the place quieted with each of my footfalls, until my boots hitting the wooden floor was all anyone could hear. All eyes were on me, and I took a moment to bask in the fear.

“Night Eyes?” a deep, gruff voice asked from behind the bar. I turned to my left, and smiled at Gronk. He was seven feet of muscle, tusk and dreadlocks, with a canvas of green skin over his bulging form. The orc struck an intimidating figure, lessened only by the round spectacles that were too small for his face.

“Hello, Gronk,” I smiled easily to my old comrade, “where the fuck is everyone else?”

It didn’t take long for Gronk to roundup the rest of the gang. There was Terry, a squirmy human with a talent for lock picking, Flendian, a dark-elf with a penchant for stabbing people, Hacksaw, a brutish half-giant who used his fists to solve every problem, and Grunt, my second-in-command, a dwarf who enjoyed cooking almost as much as he enjoyed murder. The six of us sat around a large, oaken table as Astrid stood straight-backed and nervous behind me.

“So, Night Eyes,” Flendian grinned across from me, his tan skin and dark eyes almost making him handsome, “you gonna tell us where the fuck you’ve been this past year?”

“I went to Terondia to visit your mother,” I smirked back, “she had some back problems I helped her straighten out. Now she has walking problems, but what can I do?”

“We’re never getting a straight answer out of ya, are we?” Hacksaw said, his massive frame taking up an entire side of the table, his scarred face a testament to his days as a fighter in The Pit.

“No,” I replied, “so don’t bother asking.”

“Are you going to at least tell us about her?” Terry asked, gesturing to Astrid, “She doesn’t look like the kind of company you usually keep.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Grunt chuckled, eyeing the Valkyrie with greedy eyes, “if you don’t mind me saying, Miss; you are the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.”

Astrid did not reply. I suspected it was because she was waiting for me to give her permission to speak, more than it was her disdain for the dwarf.

“Say ‘thank you,’ Astrid.” I called over my shoulder.

“Thank you.” Astrid said, unable to keep the contempt and disgust out of her voice.

“Ah, she doesn’t like me,” Grunt said with mock indignation, running a hand over his bald head, and into his black beard, “and here I was being so polite to her.”

“So,” Terry said, leaning forward, “where’d you find her?”

“You know about my… secret, right?” I said, subtly moving a stone across the table without touching it. The men nodded, not daring to speak of it aloud.

“Well there’s a whole mountain of these bitches,” I said with a smile, gesturing over my shoulder, “and they worship me like a fucking god!”

“That’s just your luck!” Gronk said, his deep voice practically vibrating the glassware on the table, “I can’t get pussy unless I hold it down or buy it, and you’ve got a mountain of beauties who will do anything you want!”

“Anything,” I smiled, “but don’t worry, boys; I’ll let her prove it to you later.”

The gang collectively turned their eyes to Astrid, and I could practically smell her terror, disgust and contempt, but she didn’t say a word, and she didn’t move a muscle. Good girl.

“But, before we get to the fun,” I said, drawing my gang’s attention back to me, “I want to know what the state of things are.”

“Well, as you can imagine,” Grunt said, clearing his throat, “not great. Once you left (without telling anyone, I might add), things got… bad. With you behind us, we were punching way above our weight class, but once you left, we couldn’t keep it going. We tried to pretend you were still around to keep the sharks at bay, but then they started taking little bites, and we couldn’t bite back. Gloria’s gang struck first, then Vistir’s, then Ryan’s. We lost the docks, we lost the corners, and we lost every brothel but this one. The only reason we managed to keep this place was because we were too small-time for Vistir and Ryan to give a shit about, and they got back to killing each other.”

“And Gloria?” I asked, her name foul in my mouth.

“Oh, you know her,” Grunt chuckled, “she holds a grudge. I guess being thousands of years old allows for vengeance to simmer. We bolt our doors at night, and keep an astral sunbeam in a gemstone at all times.”

“Vampires,” Terry spat, refilling the mugs and passing them out, “fucking rats.”

“How big is the tag on my head?” I asked.

“Fifteen thousand from Gloria,” Flendian said, “Ryan and Vistir matched that, but after you didn’t come back, they pulled the offer.”

“But she kept it up, huh?” I smiled.

“Like I said, she holds a grudge.” Grunt said, shrugging, “I’ve got to be honest with you, Night Eyes; flying in here on a fucking Valkyrie wasn’t exactly subtle. People are going to tell Gloria you’re here- WHAT THE F-”

There were three things I sensed within the blink of an eye: the whoosh of something heavy moving with blinding speed, the wind of it breathing past my ear, and a metallic flash that moved with such swiftness, its path was a single image of arcing, gleaming steel. Astrid’s massive sword split the thick, oak table a quarter of the way in, and Terry’s head rolled across its surface, his eyes writhing in his dead skull. His fist clutched the handle of the mug he’d been passing to me, and a thin packet of powder slipped from his twitching fingers. I dipped my thumb into the substance and sniffed it. Belladonna Nightshade.

“Looks like Gloria already knows.” I muttered to Grunt, picking up Terry’s decapitated head as Astrid sheathed her sword. I turned Terry’s face to each member of my gang, and stared coldly into their eyes.

“You all know what I am,” I said quietly, making them look at Terry as they matched by gaze, “you all know what I do to people who fuck with me. Terry is the lucky one, gentlemen; remember that. Astrid is quick and painless, but I am not.”

Each man held my eyes without faltering, their expressions as cold as their killer’s eyes. I was satisfied that I didn’t have any more traitors seated with me, but I kept Terry’s head as a decorative piece just in case any of them needed a healthy reminder. Gronk unceremoniously pushed Terry’s body to the side, and no one so much as blinked an eye over the death of a man they’d known for the better half of a decade.

“That one,” Hacksaw said, pointing a meaty finger at Astrid, “needs to fight in The Pit.”

“Fuck yeah, she does,” Gronk said, a touch of awe in his baritone voice as he stared at the Valkyrie, “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast; not even vampires, and those fuckers are like lightening.”

“That draw,” Flendian said, mimicking the motion with his hand, “to move a blade that heavy, that quickly; Night Eyes, I hope you’re not going to waste her in the brothels.”

“That was exactly what I was going to do.” I replied.

“We could make a fortune off her as a whore,” Grunt said, leaning forward on his elbows toward me, “but we could build an empire on that blade, Night Eyes. The Pit is the beating heart of this city, and I know how you like to be perceived.”

“Are you calling me vain, Grunt?” I asked with a smirk.

“You’re fucking right I am,” Grunt grinned, “you don’t do what we do for the money, the women or the men; you do it because you like the way people look at you when you walk down the street. You didn’t fly into this city on the back of a fucking angel, knowing half this town wants you dead, to avoid attention.”

“Think of the opportunity!” Flendian hissed excitedly, “The Pit champions are all brutes; orcs, ogres, trolls and half-giants; hardly the sort that gain the people’s adoration.” He looked unapologetically at Gronk and Hacksaw, but they just nodded in agreement.

“It’s a place of brawn and savagery,” Hacksaw said, flexing a massive arm, “fancy knights and fencers get buried before they can even make the tournament.”

“Drastin starves for a real champion,” Flendian said, looking appraisingly up at Astrid, “someone they can adore, someone they can romanticize, someone they can idolize, someone they want to fuck. A shining beacon, a hero, if you will. Night Eyes,” Flendian said in a hushed voice, “if you play this right, that Valkyrie will be on the lips of every crier on every street corner by the end of the week. By the end of a fortnight, she’ll be more famous than the fucking king.”

“And whoever owns her,” Grunt smiled, “owns that fame. You want to carve your name onto the face of this city?” Grunt gestured to the gash in the table, “Do it with that blade.”

If I wanted to carve my name onto this city, I literally would, I mused to myself, I’d carve it from the docks, to the west gate. Hell, I could kill Vistir, Ryan, and even that bitch Gloria without so much as breaking a sweat, but there’s no fun in that. Grunt’s right, I don’t play the game for rational reasons; I play it because it’s fun. I looked down at the poison that had been meant for me, And the deadlier the game, the more fun it is. What game is deadlier than The Pit?

“Astrid,” I said, looking at the statuesque Nordic beauty, “how would you like to be my champion?”

“Killing for sport is against the codes of The Iona Guard,” Astrid said, “it is an evil-”

“Fuck your codes!” I laughed, turning away from the dejected Valkyrie, picking up Terry’s severed head, and raising it aloft, “To Astrid!” I toasted merrily, “The Avenging Angel, The Winged-Executioner, the future-fucking-champion of Drastin!”

“To Astrid!” My gang toasted back, raising their mugs in place of decapitated heads, and then drinking deeply.

“Right,” I said getting up and taking a firm grip of Astrid’s leather-clad ass, “now who wants to fuck her?”

BRANDON

“Those two,” the guard at the city gate said, gesturing to Justina and Tera, “need to be registered before they can enter.”

“They… what?” I asked.

“The succubi,” the guard said, “cannot enter the city until they’ve put their names on the prostitution registry.”

“They’re not whores.” I said frankly.

“Then they can’t come in,” the guard replied with equal frankness, “all succubi are restricted to the brothel district. It’s nothing personal lad, my brother is married to a succubus, but the king can’t have magical seductresses running around town turning honest folk into slaves.”

I sighed and turned to Tera.

“Can we meet your contact in a whore-house?” I asked.

“She wouldn’t meet us there,” Tera frowned, “too many prying ears.”

“Mom,” Justina whispered, “maybe you should drop some names.”

“I still have some pride, Justina,” Tera hissed back, “we’ll just have to make do.”

“Drop names?” I asked.

“My humble, country-girl of a mother, is actually royalty,” Justina smirked, “her sister is the newly-crowned arch-matriarch of Arbortus.”

“Bullshit.” I said, staring at Tera.

“It’s true,” Justina smiled as Tera scowled, “Mom’s sister is Flora Autumnsong.”

“But, you’re a succubus,” I said slowly, “and Autumnsong is a nymph. So… genetics and shit.”

“Our father was an incubus,” Tera said, working her lips like the words tasted foul in her mouth, “and having an incubus in your lineage is like playing roulette with your family tree. I was born a succubus, but my precious sister was born a perfect, little, nymph. Rumor has it that her daughter was born a mutated freak, so I guess karma found its way into her womb.”

“You sound bitter.” I snorted.

“They kicked me out of Arbortus once I started maturing,” Tera said, “they said I was too dangerous to keep in the colony, so they put me on a boat and shipped me off. Flora was particularly delighted, seeing as how I got all the boys she wanted. Bitch.”

“Can we use it to our advantage?” I asked Tera, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Right now’s not the time for prideful decisions.”

Tera worked her jaw a little longer, seeming to acclimate her palate to the taste of her heritage. She finally relented, reached into her pouch, and pulled out a set of frayed documents that looked hundreds of years old. She handed them to the guard, who paged through them with bored disinterest.

“These papers were dated the fourth of summer season, twenty-three-fifty-two,” the guard said looking up from the yellowed pages, “it is the thirty-sixth of spring season, twenty-eight-thirty-nine.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking old,” Tera grumbled, “are they still valid?”

“They bare the Arbortus seal,” the guard conceded, “a really old print of it, but still recognized. You may enter without registering, Tera Autumnsong, but you’ll need to wear this badge,” the guard dug into a sack to his left and pulled out an embroidered patch, “that marks you as a royal diplomat. This one, though,” the guard said, gesturing to Justina, “will still have to register.”

Tera looked like she’d object, but Justina put a hand on her mother’s shoulder and nodded. She signed the registry, sewed the whore’s patch to her cloak, and the three of us (four of us) walked through the gates of the largest city in the world.

“Holy shit.” I gasped. The walls of Drastin had concealed the city from view, but now that we were inside, its enormity was overwhelming. Every street was a trench; the buildings running endlessly on either side, connecting wall-to-wall with different facades, standing fifty feet high at their shortest stature. Behind the maze of continuous buildings, I saw the tops of towers reaching for the sky. The downtown of the metropolis was decorated with stone spires that speared the skyline hundreds of feet up, creating a gapless wall of architecture that cast its shadows over the entire city. I saw more people on one block than I’d seen in my entire life, and the churning, chaotic life of this place intimidated me. The others did not share in my fear. Tera regarded the city with passing interest, Justina was giddy with excitement, and Angela was bursting from Justina’s mouth with even greater exuberance.

“Oh my god!” Angela squealed from Justina’s mouth, “Look at all the… everything!”

“It sure is a lot.” I said, my voice small in my throat. Tera heard the anxiety in my voice, and pressed her comforting body closer to me.

“You’ll be fine,” she smiled, “the trick is to blend in. Just follow my lead, and don’t gawk at everything you see.”

“We’ll be in the brothel district,” Justina said from my other side, “I’ll take care of Angela, Brandon, don’t worry about her. It’s not like she can die twice, anyway.”

“You will do no such thing!” Tera snapped, “You’re staying with me the whole time!”

“I think it would be unwise for us to break the law the moment we enter the city, Mother.” Justina said practically, fingering her whore’s patch, “So, unless you’re relocating your meeting to a brothel, we’re going to have to split up.”

“Take off that fucking patch,” Tera spat, reaching for Justina’s cloak, “you are not-”

“Mom,” Justina said, putting a calming hand atop her mother’s, “I’m almost seventeen, and you still feed me like I’m a babe. We’re not in Towerhead anymore, no one’s coming to burn us, and I need some independence.”

Tera’s hand stilled, and her concerned face softened to one of melancholy.

“You’re going to feed yourself, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

“I am,” Justina said, clasping her other hand atop her mother’s, “it’s time, Mom; it’s well-past time, actually.”

“I should be there for it,” Tera said, her voice verging on tears, “I should be present when you become a woman. You need someone there to-”

Justina pulled her mother into an embrace, and locked lips with the woman. Angela screamed out of Justina’s body as mother and daughter exchanged tongues and spit.

“Goddamn it, Justina!” Angela’s flustered, ethereal face yelled from above, “You were supposed to warn me before you tongue-punched your mom!”

Tera could not hear the ghost, but I saw Justina’s consuming lips curve in a slight grin as she drank of her mother’s lust. The two succubi held each other for a moment longer, and then separated, their violet eyes staring their love.

“I already am a woman, Mom,” Justina smiled, caressing Tera’s face, “now let me be a woman.”

“Ok, Justina,” Tera whispered, a tear running down her smiling face, “you’re right; I’ve been too protective. You’re not my baby girl anymore.” She cupped her daughter’s cheek, and then gave her a final kiss, “You and Angela go have fun,” she sniffled, “we’ll meet at The Oxehead’s Inn tonight.”

ASTRID

I’d anticipated that Mistress would make me please her men; she said as much before we left for Drastin. I just didn’t think she was going to make me do it in front of the entire brothel. I stood atop the table I’d just decapitated a man on, and I took off my armor piece by piece to the jeers and whistles of every whore and patron. These wretched creatures were beneath me, they were the dregs of the world, commoners without code or honor, yet I was their entertainment. A stronger Valkyrie would be furious, my mother would have dealt out justice with cold wrath, but I only felt fear and shame. Bravery isn’t the lack of fear, I told myself, remembering the oaths of the Iona Guard, bravery is facing it.

“Mistress,” I whispered to the corrupted god standing next to me atop the table, “I saved your life.”

“And I’m grateful,” Mistress said, her black and green eyes smirking back up at me, “and this is your reward; look how much everyone loves you! Aren’t you happy to be getting so much attention? Does my reward not please you?”

I am naïve, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say ‘yes.’ I unstrapped the leather that bound my torso, and let it fall to the tabletop. I’d already taken off my shoulder pads, my calf guards, and the padded skirt that concealed my thighs. All that was left, were my breast wrap and loin strap. My audience seemed to think that I was giving them a little strip tease, but in reality, I’d been delaying exposing myself in the vain hope that Mistress would be merciful after I’d saved her. She was not, of course, and my overlong undressing only served to rile up the crowd more. I stared outwardly in half-lucid terror, a fugue state of fear and humiliation where every leering face gawked with wide, greedy eyes, and every jeering mouth slurred their tones with malice. I shakenly hooked my finger beneath the clasp of my chest wrap, and pulled it loose. The crowd cheered as my ample breasts jiggled freely from their prison, my nipples standing erect and pointing lewdly at the audience. I was too ashamed to blush, too humiliated to cast my eyes downward. I looked at everyone and no one as I numbly reached down, and pulled my legs out of the loin strap.

“Astrid of Iona!” Mistress exclaimed to the crowd, gesturing dramatically to my naked figure as the onlookers cheered. I wanted to cover myself with my hands, I wanted to fold my wings over my naked body and hide from the world, but I did not. Mistress was still my god, and I would do what she wanted. I stood stoically atop the table, trying desperately to keep from breaking down and crying. Stay strong, I told myself, endure it like a warrior; don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Well,” Mistress said, looking up at me, “are you going to show your fans your assets?”

“My… what?” I asked, my voice small in my mouth.

“Bend over,” Mistress said, “and spread your cheeks. Oh, and arch your back a little, and smile, Astrid; we wouldn’t want to give off the impression that you’re not enjoying yourself.”

I turned around, bent until my torso was parallel to the tabletop, reached back, and took a deep breath. I grabbed the succulent fat of my glutes, looked over my shoulder, and glued on a pained smile as I exposed my lewdness to everyone. They cheered louder than ever, and I felt a single tear draw down my cheek, thankfully on the side of my face concealed from the audience. Don’t let them see it.

“Oh,” Mistress cooed in false consolation, wiping the tear from my face, “it’s good to know that this is such a happy moment for you; I was worrying that you didn’t like my gift.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” I said in a shaking voice, my brain seared with the images of the crowd’s predatory faces.

“I got you another present,” Mistress said, portraying a façade of girlish shyness with her hands clasped behind her back, “I hope you like it.”

Her mouth smiled with affection, but her eyes smirked with malevolence; it was a dog collar and leash. I submissively bowed my head for her, and she clasped the last piece of shame around my figure of humiliation. I looked down and saw the word ‘slut’ glinting from the tag that dangled from the collar. Mistress pushed her hand on my backside, and I dropped to my knees like the loyal bitch she’d labeled me as. Remember the oaths of The Iona Guard, I told myself, ‘though I may die upon the rocks, I will die with my sword in hand.’ You will be taken, but you will not succumb to them. You will endure this, and remain yourself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, whores and johns,” Mistress called, “I present: Gronk, Hacksaw, Flendian and Grunt; the men you’re all wishing you were right now!”

Cheers and applause sounded from the crowd as the four men approached the table at the center of the brothel. Mistress pulled on my collar, and I was forced into a kneeling position with my back held straight; subservient and demure, ready for my gifts. A chill ran up my spine as all of them climbed atop the table together.

“All four of them, Mistress?” I asked, unable to conceal the fear from my demeanor, “At once?!”

“Five if you count me,” Mistress smirked, “or do you not desire me any longer?”

“Of course, I do,” I stammered, feeling my face flush, “but… how?”

In my mind, sex only happened between two people. Never in my wildest nightmares, had I imagined an act with more than one other person, much less five! Fortunately, my god was more than willing to explain it to me.

“You have two hands, don’t you?” Mistress asked. I nodded.

“And a mouth,” Mistress said, touching her thumb to my trembling lips, “and a cunt, and last of all, you have an asshole. That makes five, which is just perfect for us.”

I could practically feel myself growing pale. My anus?! Why would anyone want to put anything there?! Oh Great Creators, they’re going to tear me to pieces! The men made a show of hyping up the crowd, working them into a frenzy as I felt myself growing weak with terror. My stomach churned, my head grew faint, and my heart sank in my chest. Stay strong; it’s only pain. The men turned around, casting their merciless, greedy eyes on me, surrounding me as I knelt before them, pulling their pants down and showing me the instruments of my torture. Flendian was blessedly normal as far as I could tell, while Grunt was thick and stout, Gronk was way too big, and Hacksaw… there was no way Hacksaw was fitting anywhere, but by the look on his face, I could tell he was going to try. Mistress ranked somewhere between Grunt and Gronk, and I stared fearfully at the thing I once craved for. She tugged on my leash, jerking me forward as Gronk clasped a strong hand about the braided crown of my head. I opened my mouth to scream, and regretted it instantly.

The orc’s cock rammed between my lips, expanding my jaw and burying into my throat. I gagged ferociously, feeling on the verge of vomiting, but my experience with Willowbud the day before saved me from making a mess. His pelvis mushed into my face, and the stink of his loins wafted into my squished nose. Spit leaked from my defiled mouth, tears streaked from my bulging eyes, and a scream choked from my constricted throat. The crowd roared as Gronk pulled out, strings of spit and precum snapping from my violated lips. I was allowed a precious moment to cough and prepare myself before he grabbed two handfuls of my braids, and rammed in again, and again and again. My hair flailed, my throat gurgled, and my face pressed mercilessly into the flat of his pelvis. Two hands grabbed my own, and I felt my fingers closing around Flendian and Grunt. I stroked them dutifully, rigorously, hoping beyond hope that I could finish them off before they entered me. I felt familiar hands reaching between my legs, and I looked around the bulging piece of meat violating my throat to see Mistress smiling up at me as she positioned herself between my legs. Her hands spread my legs further, and her wonderful heat pushed inside me. For a moment, I felt some of the pleasure I had shared with her the day before, but that joy was dashed when I came to a sickening realization: Hacksaw was walking behind me. NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!

“Are you ready, Astrid?” Mistress laughed beneath me, holding herself static in my pussy as she spread my cheeks for the half-giant, “Because this is going to hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before.”

I abandoned trying to stroke Grunt and Flendian to completion, and instead, pushed against Gronk’s pelvis with all my might. It was useless, the orc was too strong. I contemplated for a desperate moment about biting down, but he never gave me the chance. He pulled out as I felt a pressure against my rectum. My head whipped around, and I stared at Hacksaw with all the pleading, manic terror I could muster.

“Don’t!” I screamed, but he just grinned. The scars on his face deepened with his cruel mirth, and he pushed forward. The pressure increased, and I began to writhe and struggle atop Mistress. Grunt and Flendian caught hold of my flailing wrists, and Hacksaw pinned me atop Mistress with a firm hand to my tailbone. The pressure increased. I felt my pelvic floor indenting, the skin of my taint stretching as it was pushed inward. The pressure increased. The tiny aperture of my sinful hole dilated, and I shrieked in terror as it slowly expanded. The crowd cheered and laughed as I thrashed desperately; my hips wriggling, my legs kicking, and my arms straining with all their might. The pressure increased, and increased, and increased. I looked around frantically, searching for anything that could stop this, anything that could save me. The pressure broke. My head reeled backward, my hips slammed downward, my back bowed in a spine-cracking arch as my mouth shrieked until the sound left my chest. I felt myself stretch around him, expand beyond my limits, cling to him in a hold so tight, it seemed that my gripping circle would tear. He pushed through the tender coil of my anus, flattening its walls against the muscles of my insides, forcing my bowels into my own body. He kept going; gradually opening my locked channel, burning his heat into the reaches of my most sensitive entrance, pressing through virgin flesh that had never felt the touch of another. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, beyond anything I’d endured in training or combat. It was an invasion of my very essence, of my pride and sanctity, but my thoughts had long since passed such trivial matters. I was agony, the very embodiment of it, and then… then I was something else.

His pelvis finally pressed against my cheeks, and he held me there in stasis, forcing me to acclimate to him. Through gritted teeth that leaked with spit, and bulging eyes that blurred with tears, I adapted to him. I surrendered myself to his invasion, I loosened the tension in my body, and I felt myself grow limp where I had been clenching. There was a moment of what I can only describe as peace; a blissful serenity where I simply gave up, and allowed it to happen. The pain began to dissipate, the tension began to unwind, and I began… to like it. It was absurd, really, to garner pleasure from something that had been so excruciating, to enjoy something so perverse and wrong, but I couldn’t lie to myself; I liked it a lot. The scream that had passed through my lips waned and died, and I became languid atop my god. My breasts pressed into hers, my belly unclenched and distended into her warm stomach, and my quivering, tensed thighs sloped into a spread-legged sprawl. I could feel her cock pressing against Hacksaw’s from the other side, I could feel them stretching my taint into a flat, glistening ribbon, I could feel them throbbing against the vulnerable spaces within me, and I could feel myself leaking from the arousal of it all. They began to thrust, and I began to moan. What are you doing?! Stop! Don’t give them the satisfaction! Fight it! Remember your oaths!

“Do you like it, Astrid?” Mistress grinned up at me, her head titled back in pleasure, her black eyes cast downward and her lips parted.

“Yes, Mistress!” I moaned a wining, whorish tone I’d never expressed before, “I don’t want to, but it feels too good!”

“You’re getting raped in front of everyone, and you’re moaning like a used whore.” Mistress chuckled, squeezing my breasts viciously, prompting my wining moan to raise in pitch as I savored the pain, “I’m disappointed, Astrid; I thought you had more fight in you.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress!” I cried in shame and pleasure, shifting backward to take them as deeply as I could, “But I can’t help myself!”

Hacksaw was thrusting with long, gradual motions; penetrating deeply, forcing me to feel every inch of his girth as it ruined me. I felt cool air on the sheath of my anus, and realized in a mixture of horror and arousal that part of me was clinging to him as he pulled out. I looked back, and my eyes widened as I saw pink, glistening flesh wrapped around the first few inches of the half-giant. He grinned wickedly at my astonished expression, and I couldn’t keep myself from smiling a slutty smile back. Get a hold of yourself, woman! That bastard is raping you! Instead of scowling at him, however, I bit my lip with playful exuberance, and began shifting my hips back. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Mistress locked into Hacksaw’s rhythm, and ran alongside him against my fleshy division, pressing my nerve-wracked membrane with their vile heat, squishing it between their torturing members. I let out a delighted giggle that was punctuated with breathy moans, and winked an eye at the half-giant as I winked my anus around him. You’ll never save Willowbud if you fall so easily. My back arched behind me, curving my ass upward to deepen my penetration, moving on whorish instincts that alarmed me with how natural they came. You can’t even save yourself. My conscience battled with my pleasure, creating a duality of shame and indulgence. Mistress sunk her fingers into the fat of my ass, spread me wide, and then hammered into me with brutal motions. Hacksaw gripped my hips and matched Mistress’s pace, smashing his pelvis into me with thrusts that sent my body lurching. I writhed between them, moving with chaotic mania, reacting violently to every motion, reveling in the depravity, relishing the pain that heightened the pleasure, screaming and wailing like the whore Mistress wanted me to be.

The crowd roared their approval at my lost equanimity, cheering my name as I grinded desperately between my molesters. Their attention no longer humiliated me, but excited me, even flattered me. They weren’t here to leer and insult, but to bear witness to my lust, to watch me perform something extraordinary. They’re here to watch a Valkyrie break all her oaths. They’re here to see you betray yourself, and your entire people, and you enjoy their attention. You’re pathetic.

I smiled up at Gronk, and he grinned down at me. How could I have ever thought he was ugly? His body was laced with chords of muscles, his hair framed his fearsome face in black dreads, and his cock stood rigid and veiny, waiting for me to taste his delicious filth. My smile widened to gaping, quirked lips, and I drew out my tongue as I took his entire length into me. You covet the lust of beasts. You’re no better than a succubus.

Gods, it felt good to be so full. Every hole was stuffed, every possibility was exploited. I indulged in the excess of men, greedily took in all that I could, reveled in the extravagance of my sexual avarice. I reached to my sides, and covetously wrapped my fingers around Grunt of Flendian. I stroked them soflty, alluringly, no longer trying to finish them off, but preparing them for their turns inside me. Does everyone get a turn in you? Why not let the whole brothel have their fill, you fucking whore! My hips rocked back and forth behind me; my pussy consuming Mistress with clenching muscles, and my anus simply opening to accept the stretching impalement of Hacksaw. I could feel my insides being forced upward between them, I could feel the indentation of Mistress’s cock protruding from my pelvis, and I could feel my anus gaping; every sensitive, vulnerable swath of flesh brutally stimulated to the point of numbing euphoria. I hummed my whorish moans around Gronk’s cock, translating the pleasure of my penetration into the passionate consumption of his wonderful shaft. I stared up at him with baby eyes as I rotated my lips around his base, laughing a muffled tone as I watched him groan in satisfaction. Mistress wasn’t lying; I really was good at sucking dick. And you’re proud of that?! I was.

“Goddamn Astrid, you’re tight right now!” Mistress moaned as she thrust into me, “There’s hardly any room for me!”

“I’m taking up all the real-estate,” Hacksaw laughed, giving me a vicious smack on the ass that almost made me come, “apologies to the rest of you; it’s gonna be like an arrow through a canyon.”

“I’m not opposed to sharing,” Gronk laughed, petting my hair as I sucked him, “what do you think Astrid; can you take two of us back there?”

Don’t you fucking say it!

“I don’t know, Gronk,” I smiled deviously as I licked the tip of his wonderful cock, “why don’t you find out?”

“Holy shit!” Flendian laughed as my hand rand covetously along his length, “Where did Astrid go? This cannot be the same woman!”

“No,” Mistress smiled into my eyes as she ran her hands up the curves of my writhing body, “she’s not.”

“I am still me,” I said hoarsely, practically growling the words as Hacksaw drove his final thrusts into my ruined gape, “nothing has changed! I haven’t changed!”

But you have, my conscience grimly spoke, because Valkyries can’t lie, and you just did.

“You’re no good at lying, Astrid,” Mistress moaned as she gripped my breasts, “but it’s interesting to hear you try.”

“No…” I whimpered, feeling the horror of it mixing with the mind-breaking pleasure, “no… I can’t speak untruths.”

“I guess truth is a funny thing,” Mistress smirked as she pinched her fingers about my erect nipples, and twisted as she pulled, “it means different things to different people. Do you want Gronk and Flendian to fuck you in the ass?”

“Yes!” I croaked as Hacksaw gripped my hips in a vice-hold, his hands so large that is thumbs almost connected around the small of my back.

“That was honest,” Mistress giggled as she twisted and pulled, stretching my jiggling breasts to conical points, sending wonderful stings into my chest, “do you want Hacksaw to come inside your shithole?”

“Yes!” I shrieked as the half-giant’s thrusts became more and more violent, ripping my prolapsed anus from my body with each pull, and forcing it back inside with each impaling thrust, “Yes, I want his seed inside me!”

“I don’t know much about the Iona Guard oaths,” Mistress smiled, still twisting and pulling, still torturing me with delightful agony, “but I seem to remember you saying that putting yourself beneath another for pleasure is a big no-no. Is enjoying getting gangraped in front of an entire brothel against your rules, or is there an exception to that?”

“It is disgraceful!” I shrieked, my chest jutting forward, my hips pushing desperately behind me, trying to take every inch of Hacksaw and Mistress that I could, “I am a disgrace to my order!”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re too broken-up about it,” Mistress laughed, torqueing the succulent flesh of breasts into spiraling creases of fat, “why don’t you abandon your honor, cast out your old self, and join me completely? There’s no shame if you have no shame.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking as my climax began to roil in my depths, loosening the taught strings of my sanity, “I will stay myself, and I will save you. I will come back from this.”

“There’s no coming back from this.” Mistress said. She released my breasts, wrapped her hands around my throat, and matched Hacksaw’s fervent pace. The two of them tore through my insides with wanton abandon, and I screamed higher and higher, my voice echoing in the brothel over the cheers of my audience. I basked in their attention; spreading my wings wide, arching my back, raising my head to the ceiling as Mistress’s fingers constricted my curved-back throat. Watch me, I thought, much to the dismay of my conscience, fill your eyes with my depravity. I grinded atop Mistress and Hacksaw as I readied the men at my sides, my lustful strokes becoming urgent pulls as the pleasure burned into my mind. My rectum convulsed with spasms, twitching pathetically in its prolapsed state, clinging tightly to the man sodomizing me. My pussy frothed around Mistress’s ramming member, my petals glistening and swollen between my legs, my womanly channel clenching with the sporadic jolts of euphoria. The feelings culminated together, expanding within me, growing more and more intense, breaking my body and mind. My eyes rolled back in my head, my tongue hung loosely in my mouth, my body writhed and shifted in simple reaction, no longer controlled by any sort of rationality, but enslaved to the perverse whims of my lust. I may break all of my oaths, I thought, through my screams, through my ecstasy, though my corrupting mind, I may betray everything I stand for, but I will save you, Willowbud. I will find a way. I clung to that thought as I abandoned the vows of my order, and gave in to the depravity of my flesh. Only for now, I told myself, you will come back to yourself after this is over; you haven’t changed. I lied to myself again.

TERA

I held Brandon’s arm as we walked down the narrow backstreets of Drastin. The buildings loomed over us, encasing us in the darkness of their shadows, never allowing the sun to shine against the cobblestones. I suspected my contact lived in this part of the city for that exact reason. Brandon gulped nervously at my side, and I looked up at him with a fond smile. I felt a little guilty about trying to enslave him, but I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. I had hoped that once I got my claws in him, he’d misinterpret his lustful devotion as love, and bind with me, but he was too strong for me to take. After what I’d attempted, I doubted Brandon would ever bind with me, but I still wanted to be with him. Whatever Brandon did, wherever he went, history would be made, and I wanted to be a part of it. The world was standing on the precipice of either something great, or something terrible, and Brandon needed friends like me to guide him to the better path. Besides that, I quite liked the boy. He was funny, awkward in an endearing way, and great in bed. Even after three days, I still walked with a slight limp; a constant reminder of Brandon’s wonderful version of divine retribution. I rested my head on his shoulder, and stared up at him with adoring eyes.

“What?” Brandon asked, wearing a nervous smile. He tried to appear casual and confident, but he moved with all the grace of a sodomized giraffe. The city really was not for him.

“I was just thinking about Justina,” I said with a sad smile, “I had hoped you’d be her first, but it seems she’s too impatient.”

“I’m not doing anything with her until Angela’s out of her head.” Brandon said.

“You humans are so prudish about incest,” I smiled, “it’s completely normal in many races.”

“It might be normal for sex-fiends like you,” Brandon smirked down at me, “but it is not natural.”

“Yes, it is!” I insisted, “If you raise a family of dogs, cats, or any other manner of beasts, the brothers and the sisters will grow up, and they’ll mate with one another one-hundred percent of the time.”

“And then half their children will be born retarded,” Brandon countered, “and the other half will be sterile.”

“You know,” I smiled coyly as we rounded another corner, “when you make Angela a body, you’re going to have to make every part of it. You’re going to spend pain-staking hours working on each little detail of her vagina.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Brandon grumbled, though he was grinning.

“Oh, you know I am.” I smirked back, pressing my body deeper to his.

We stopped at the end of an alleyway, where a studded-iron wood door stood blandly against a stone wall. To most, it would seem an unimportant feature of an unimportant dead-end, but a knowing eye would spot the spiraled symbol carved into the flagstone next to the door. I drew my dagger, cut a thin line into the tip of my forefinger, and then let the blood drip onto the carved symbol. The door opened with a foreboding creak, and a pair of big, crimson eyes peered at us from the dark.

“Tera Autumnsong,” a soft, feminine voice whispered from the shadows, “I was delighted to get your message; I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

“Gloria,” I smiled, “it’s been too long.”

“Indeed, it has,” Gloria said, flashing a smile that gleamed white in the darkness, displaying a set of sharp fangs, “and you brought me dinner, how kind.”

“Unfortunately, no.” I said, patting Brandon’s arm comfortingly before he pissed himself.

“Keeping this one for yourself, hmm?” Gloria replied, her red eyes searching me, “You certainly look well-fed.”

“He’s delicious,” I smirked, “but he’s not mine.”

“No, I see that now.” Gloria said, her gaze gleaming hungrily in the dark, studying the terrified god on my shoulder, “So, he’s not your dinner, and he’s not mine, and you brought him all the way from…” sniffing sounds wafted from the darkness as the vampire took Brandon into her nostrils, “wheat, barley, cow shit… Towerhead? You still live in that shithole?”

“Hey!” Brandon exclaimed, “That’s my home you’re talking about!”

“And it’s a shithole,” Gloria responded, her red eyes narrowing, causing Brandon to shrink back, “but Tera’s never wasted my time before, so she must have a good reason for bringing a hillbilly to my doorstep. Come in, both of you.”

I dragged Brandon with me through the threshold, and the door promptly slammed behind us, the clang of the metal latch punctuating the sudden sound. Gloria was as stunning as she’d always been. She had the most pronounced cheekbones I’d ever seen, and they structured a face of exotic, gothic beauty. Full, blood-red lips matched the hue of her almond-shaped eyes, and contrasted the unnatural paleness of her youthful complexion. Her dark eyebrows seemed to constantly bow inwardly, giving her portrait a slightly-menacing expression. Jet-black hair tumbled from her crown in luxuriant curls, and rested upon her narrow shoulders, framing a pale bosom that was barely contained in her corset. The rest of her body bowed in equal gracefulness beneath a tight-fitting skirt, her voluptuous outline matching my own curve-for-curve, with her breasts gaining a slight edge. You would never know that the vampire was three-thousand years old by the youth of her body, but by the aged wisdom in her perpetually-hungry eyes.

Her choice in home décor was as interesting as it had always been. A mural was painted on the domed ceiling, depicting a blood-orgy of debauchery and violence, interrupted only by the extravagant chandelier that hung from its apex. The walls were lined with red columns, the floor was covered with plush, red carpeting, and the room was decorated with red, silk drapes, red curtains and red upholstery bound to extravagant chairs. In one of those chairs, sat a very frightened-looking human girl, shakenly drinking wine and staring at the floor.

“If I had known you were eating,” I frowned at Gloria, “I would have waited outside.”

“Oh, she’s not my meal,” Gloria replied with a wave of her hand, “she’s an honored guest, like yourself.”

“I’m sure,” I replied dryly to Gloria, “the line between guest and prisoner was always a thin one with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gloria laughed, pouring three glasses of wine, “Alexa is here by her own volition. Her husband and I are business partners, of sorts.”

“We haven’t heard anything,” the woman named Alexa said fearfully, “Gloria, shouldn’t we have heard something by now?”

“Hush,” Gloria said softly, placing a calming hand on the woman’s shoulder, “Terry’s just being careful. Your husband is a cautious man, and if things are taking longer than we thought, it is only because he is waiting for the perfect opportunity. He’ll be walking through that door in due time, trust me.”

Alexa watched me with panic and contempt, her fingers twisting about the stem of her wine glass, her eyes narrowing at me as though my presence was an insult to her.

“When the door opened, I thought it would be him,” Alexa muttered to me, barely managing to bring the wine to her lips, “but it was you. I let my hope rise, and now it’s dashed all over again. I can’t keep waiting like this!”

“Drink,” Gloria said softly, pushing the bottom of Alexa’s glass so that it tilted back, “and calm your nerves, woman. Your husband is being brave for you, so you must be brave for him.”

The woman downed the glass of wine in a single pull as Gloria soothingly caressed her hair. The combination of wine, and Gloria’s touch seemed to calm the woman, and she tentatively relaxed into her chair.

“Normally, I would’ve given you my undivided attention,” Gloria said to me as she handed Brandon and I our wine, “but something has come up.”

“Do I want to know what this something is?” I asked, studying the nervous woman.

“It shouldn’t be a concern,” Gloria replied tersely, “the matter will be taken care of shortly.” Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and then leaned in so that Alexa couldn’t hear, “But, if Gods forbid, the matter isn’t resolved, I sure could use a woman of your unique skill set.”

“Those days are behind me,” I said between a sip of wine, “I’m a mother now.”

“Are you?” Gloria said, displaying a delighted smile whose sharp fangs turned it into a predatory grin, “That’s wonderful.”

“Unique skill set?” Brandon asked, looking at me.

“I used to kill people for money.” I said to the god, much to Gloria’s surprise.

“That information was given out rather freely,” Gloria said, glancing from me, to Brandon, who was staring at me with wide eyes, “who is this boy, Tera?”

The light from the chandelier suddenly turned a deep crimson, marking someone’s blood on the spiraled symbol outside. Gloria grinned over her shoulder at Alexa, who returned it with a hopeful smile of her own. Gloria strode past us, a slight spring in her elegant gait, and opened the door. There was a severed head lying atop the door’s symbol, and a shadowy figure disappearing behind the corner. There was a moment of stillness, and then a shrill, horrible scream erupted from behind us. Gloria solemnly closed the door as Alexa collapsed to the floor, screeching into the carpeting and shaking with bouts of hysteria. Brandon pulled me close, his body quivering horribly as he tried to find safety in my touch. Gloria made a beeline for the inconsolable widow, took the screeching woman’s head in her hands, tilted it to the side, and then sunk her fangs into her exposed throat. Alexa’s wails died to a whimper as Gloria venom seeped into the her heart. Gloria released Alexa from her hold, and gazed into the stupefied widow’s filming eyes.

“Look here, Alexa,” Gloria said softly, touching foreheads so their eyes were inches apart, “look into me, and look deeply.”

Alexa’s face slackened, her body relaxed, and she slowly collapsed into a languid sprawl on the floor. Gloria guided the woman to her back, never breaking eye contact. She held her gaze above Alexa’s face, and gently stroked the woman’s tear-streaked cheek as she cooed her soft manipulation.

“Terry died, and it was horrible,” Gloria whispered to the widow, “but you’ve recovered, Alexa; the worst is over. You’ve grieved enough, you’ve suffered enough, and now it’s time to move on.”

Alexa stared dumbly into Gloria’s eyes, transfixed by their crimson depths.

“Yes,” Alexa whispered back, her mind seeming to shift to the whim of the vampire’s words, “I’ve grieved, I’ve suffered, and now I need to move on.”

“It’s not safe for you here,” Gloria said, tenderly brushing strands of blonde hair from the woman’s face, “you must leave Drastin. Take the emergency stash Terry left you, and start a new life, under a new name.”

“Yes,” Alexa said, nodding slightly, “yes, I will go to Grundin, where my parents live.”

“Your journey will be long,” Gloria said, “so you must rest now, child, and when you awake, you will feel like a new woman. You will abandon this city of pain and suffering, and live the rest of your days with a light heart.”

Alexa’s eyes drooped, and then closed. A blissful smile creased her lips, and her chest began to rise and fall with the steady thrum of sleeping breaths. Gloria let out a sigh, brushed her black, waving hair back, and then picked the widow up like she weighed nothing at all. She draped Alexa’s sleeping body into a loveseat in the corner, and then grabbed a wine bottle, and began to chug.

“What kind of enemy do you have,” I said slowly, “that knows where you live and doesn’t kill you?”

Gloria held out a delaying finger, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of it. She set the bottle down, wiped purple wine from blood-red lips, and then collapsed into her chair.

“An enemy who thinks the proverbial game is just that,” Gloria said, massaging her temples, “a game. I’m not sure if Night Eyes is an anarchist, a terrorist, or just fucking insane, but she’s so far beyond me, Tera. I don’t know how she does what she does, but no matter what I do, no matter what I try, she outmaneuvers me like I’m a child, and then rubs my nose in the shit.”

“Stronger than you, Gloria?” I said, sitting down across from her, “What is she?”

“A nymph,” Gloria said, “no older than that boy you brought. She was a street urchin as far as I know, though her history is mostly hear-say. She got a reputation as a common thug with a penchant for the obscene, then one day, she decided robbing banks was boring, and she took out the Heslin, Nartok and M’nique gangs.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered, “she killed the leaders of three syndicates in a day?”

“Ha!” Gloria laughed dryly, taking Alexa’s wine glass off the floor and nursing it, “No, Tera; she killed every single one of them, from the bosses to the messenger boys, in three hours. By herself.”

My jaw clicked as it swung open. Nartok, Heslin and M’nique had at least sixty members a piece when I was last in Drastin, and that was two-hundred years ago. Nymphs could bind with astral beings, but there wasn’t an astral being alive strong enough to give anyone that kind of power. Unless… no; no, they can’t be real. They’re bedtime stories!

“How did she kill them?” I asked.

“No one knows,” Gloria shrugged, “some of the bodies had holes wider than my foot, some of them were strewn as though the gangsters had turned on each other. Night Eyes usually lets her boys do her dirty work, but when she gets involved personally, she follows your old rule.”

“No witnesses, only carcasses.” I muttered, recalling my younger years. Gloria nodded.

“That’s fucking badass.” Brandon whispered under his breath.

“Do you have any guesses?” I asked Gloria, “about how Night Eyes does what she does?”

“I have a one,” Gloria said, leaning forward and swirling the wine in her glass, “do you know about Sentients?”

“Corruption, Wrath and Sorrow?” Brandon said, “They’re real?”

“Myths and campfire stories,” I said, not quite believing my own disbelief, “astral beings can’t think.”

“That’s a world-wide misconception,” Gloria grunted dismissively, “Sentients aren’t astral beings, Tera; they’re the spirits that Life Givers kept alive, but didn’t bind with. Corruption and Sorrow were ancient before my time, but I personally knew the man who would become Wrath.”

Brandon and I exchanged a look. Any nerves he’d recovered since seeing Terry’s severed head were dashed, and his expression was warped with alarm.

“His name was Halok, and he was a great warrior, and he died in battle as great warriors do,” Gloria said, lost in her memory, “His brother, Trenok, the orc Life Giver, kept him alive, but he didn’t love Halok in the way required for binding. He gave Halok a new body, but without binding, Halok’s spirit could leave it as easily as a man leaves his house. He wasn’t bound to earthly tethers, but he was still dependent on Trenok’s power to keep his form. When Trenok died, Halok degraded, rotting like a fruit upon a dead vine, until he became the core-essence of himself: his lust for battle; Wrath. Now he slumbers in the astral plane, waiting for a warrior worthy of his gifts, and his curses.” Gloria frowned to herself, oblivious to the tension in the room, “I don’t believe in karma, but I think Sentients are death’s answer to a Life Giver’s defiance. Any life a god preserves, they must love enough to let die again, or it will suffer a fate far worse than the end.”

Gloria sat in solemn silence, lost in the memory of a man she once knew, unaware of the time-bomb she’d ignited. Brandon’s face was turning from red, to purple, his eyes were bulging from his sockets, his jaw was twitching, and the tendons on his neck were standing at attention. I knew I should have been consoling, I knew I should have been loving and understanding, but I couldn’t help myself; I burst into laughter. Gloria awoke from her contemplative state and looked sharply up at me, insulted that I would dare laugh at her story. Her scorn was short-lived however, because Brandon let out a scream of dismay, threw his hands into the air, and blasted alight with blue power. Stalks and vines streamed from his hands and coiled around the pillars surrounding the room, roses and orchids carpeted the floor, mutated insects buzzed around the dimmed windows, and a single, perfect humming bird glowed an ethereal blue, and then solidified into the air.

Never, in the hundreds of years I’d known Gloria, had I ever seen the vampire shocked. She was cool and level in the best and worst of circumstances, but in that moment, she lost her shit. She clambered atop the back of her chair and perched on it like a bristling cat, staring with mouth agape and wide eyes at the garden that was once her room. A massive pumpkin had sprouted in the very center, corn stalks were starting to shoot up by the windows, and the bastard spawn of a squirrel and a racoon limped away and died in the corner. Finally, Brandon calmed down, and curled up in a ball next to his new pumpkin, hugging the massive fruit for comfort.

“What…” Gloria whispered, her eyes trembling, her mouth opening and closing. She swallowed her shock, and cautiously climbed down from the top of her chair, “Tera…” she said, her red, almond-shaped eyes now bulging ovals, “the…” she swallowed again, and then pointed a shaking hand at Brandon’s curled-up form, “The Life Giver?”

“Yup!” I laughed, walking over to her, taking a bottle from the vine-covered bar and refilling her glass, “And you just told him he has to fuck his sister. Cheers.”

JUSTINA

Well, that does it then, I thought to Angela, sighing to myself at the bar of The Moaning Maiden, we’ve rejected every man in here. Well, you have, anyway.

I have a thing called ‘taste,’ Justina, Angela huffed in my mind, I require that our man at least have all his teeth.

We’re not going to find Prince Charming in a whore-house, I mentally grumbled as I paid our tab, and got off the stool, and some of those men were quite handsome.

You think every man’s handsome, Angela shot back as we stepped onto the street, you were ready to have a roll with the fat ogre before I stopped you.

It’s the disposition of my species, I replied, walking down the brothel district, jealously eyeing whores taking customers into private rooms, I’m attracted to every humanoid race, no matter their supposed defects. I honestly can’t distinguish between what you think is attractive, and what you think is ugly, and I’m starting to think your ‘ugly’ column is a little too large.

Losing our virginity-

My virginity. I corrected, you’re just along for the ride.

Losing our virginity, Angela insisted indignantly, is supposed to be a special, romantic thing. Now, I was willing to compromise on the outfit, so you should be willing to compromise on the man!

I glanced down at the outfit we’d agreed on. I wanted a skimpy slave outfit, running with the theme of ‘captured succubus virgin willing to do anything to free herself,’ but Angela wanted an extravagant gown of pure, white satin. Eventually, we compromised on ‘virgin schoolgirl lost and afraid in the big city.’ I had on a blouse that exposed most of my petite cleavage, and my entire bronze midriff, and a plaid skirt that ended halfway down my ass, the cloth draping lasciviously from my thin tail. I wore long, black gloves, as all succubi were required to do by law to avoid accidental enslavement.

I’m a whore, Angela, I said frankly to the prudish girl in my head, now professionally, but always spiritually. Succubi can fall in love, sure, but we distinguish between sex and romance. Also, you’re not going to find love in the brothel district.

I’m not looking for love! Angela insisted, I just want a smooth-skinned, lean-muscled, flowing-haired, sweet-smiled man! That shouldn’t be a tall order!

I think you might be a lesbian, I replied, rounding the corner, you basically described a woman.

I want a boy our own age! Angela growled, Is that too much to ask for?!

I stopped at a brothel called The Screeching Siren. Judging by the sounds blasting from the windows, the place was aptly named. It was absolutely packed, with patrons spilling out onto the streets.

Chances are pretty good we’ll find what you’re looking for in there, I said to Angela, teenagers are drawn to crowds, and this place is filled to capacity.

Is someone fucking dying in there? Angela exclaimed, Holy shit, that woman’s a screamer!

Let’s find out, I said, pushing through the crowd, carefully avoiding skin contact, if all else fails, at least we get to see a good show.

The crowd only got thicker the further I pushed into the bar, and I had to jostle my way through every type of race and species. There were a few boys our age that I caught a glimpse of, and I gave them a promising smile before making my way further in. Through the maze of tightly-packed people, I found myself at the bar. The bar itself was much taller than normal, and I suspected that meant this place was frequented by orcs, ogres, or maybe even trolls. I had to climb the stool like a ladder to get to the seat, but once I perched my pretty little ass on it, I got a great view of the action at the center of the brothel. My jaw almost hit the floor when I saw what was happening.

Holy fuck! Angela exclaimed in my mind, Is that a fucking Valkyrie?! I thought they were myths!

They live on the Gratoran Wall, I said, mentally showing Angela all the histories I’d read of them, On Mount Iona, Mount Ofan, and Mount Breyta. They’re supposed to be the greatest warriors in the world, bound to a strict, unbreakable code of ethics. How this one became a whore I’ll never know, but whoever owns her must make a fortune off her.

She was the most majestic creature I’d ever seen; tall, subtly-tanned, features of cold, Norse beauty, and a body of athletic musculature framing feminine perfection. Her blonde hair was braided intricately about her crown, her wings stretched angelically from her back, and her asshole was stuffed with two, thick cocks. She had her arms slung over the necks of an orc and a dark-elf, supporting her in the air between them as she writhed and screamed, her legs spread to expose her defilement, and allow for the dwarf to eat her leaking pussy. Even in her compromising state, she was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.

“Hey,” a male voice said to my left, “how much for a good time, Sweetie?”

I looked down, and saw a man of maybe thirty years. His crown was thinning, but he was youthful enough (I hoped) for Angela.

You hoped wrong, Justina. Angela replied, What part of ‘flowing hair’ was hard for you to understand?

Holy fuck, Angela, if you don’t like it, you can get out of my head! I growled.

If I hadn’t gotten in your head in the first place, you’d still be at Mommy’s house, feeding yourself from her poop-shoot. Angela retorted, You owe me, Justina; now tell baldy to scram!

“Sorry, Babe,” I said to the man in my most sultry voice, “but I’m afraid I’m off work. Give me your hotel number though,” I smiled with a wink, “and I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Fucking whores.” The man grumbled, walking away.

I fucking hate you, Angela. I seethed, clenching and unclenching my fists as my feminine hunger screamed its emptiness from my nethers, Can you not feel what I’m feeling right now?!

Oh, I feel it, Angela retorted, I just have this little thing called self-control.

“Did I just fucking see that?” a girlish voice laughed beside me, “A succubus, rejecting a man, because she’s ‘off work?!’ Now I’ve seen everything.”

I glanced over to the side, and saw a nymph-girl about my age. She had white hair that blended with her ivory horns, a caramel complexion, a developed, but slender body, and pine-green eyes surrounded by black sclera. She was bare-chested, and her eye color was interesting, but what really caught my attention was the bulge in her pants.

Hey Angela, I mentally sniggered, Long, flowing hair, nice smile, smooth skin, mid-teens, and on top of it all, it’s a woman! Now we can both pretend you’re not a lesbian, and finally get this over with.

I… am intrigued, Angela replied cautiously, you may proceed with the flirtation phase.

Ha! I laughed, You really are a dyke, aren’t you?

I don’t know what I am! Angela shot back, Not having any actual body parts makes it difficult to know for certain. All I know, is that I enjoyed our physical time together, and this… woman, feels like a perfect stepping stone from lesbianism to hetero.

“Just because I’m a succubus doesn’t mean I don’t have standards,” I smiled to the girl, extending a gloved hand, “I’m Justina, by the way.”

“Night Eyes.” the girl said, grasping my hand firmly and watching me with an expectant gaze.

“What?” I asked with a confused smile, twirling a lock of black hair with a lascivious finger.

“You haven’t heard of me?” Night Eyes asked, “You must be new here.”

“Should I have heard of you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, subtly leaning forward to allow my cleavage some exposure, “Are you a big deal??” I teased playfully.

“You really are new here,” the girl smiled, lighting a cigarette between her lips, “or you’re just really fucking stupid.”

Ah, nice fucking job, Justina, Angela scowled in my brain, What a master of seduction you are.

“The former, actually,” I said, not breaking my sultry smile for a moment, holding out two fingers to the nymph, “can I bum a smoke?”

Lung cancer is a real panty-dropper. Angela chided.

You don’t seem to mind her doing it. I replied as Night Eyes handed me a square.

Because it looks sexy and mysterious on her, Angela replied as I placed the square between my lush lips, and leaned forward for Night Eyes to light it, and you don’t have the cachet to pull it off.

Just watch. I smirked. I took a deep inhale of the cigarette smoke, and just as planned, I violently coughed it from my virgin lungs.

Real, fucking, smooth. Angela groaned.

We’re inexperienced virgins left on our own in the big city, I thought back to her as I hacked up a lung, that’s our allure, Angela; innocence.

“Was that your first cigarette?” Night Eyes laughed, her eyes traveling curiously down my body, “Did you just get here yesterday or something?”

“This morning, actually,” I said through fits of coughing, “I lived in Towerhead with my mother my whole life. You’ve found my darkest secret, Night Eyes; I’m an ignorant country girl.”

I punched out the cigarette, and turned toward Night Eyes with a calculated expression of embarrassment. I was met with a gaze of pure shock. Night Eye’s eyes were wide, her mouth was agape, and her lower lip was trembling ever-so-slightly.

“Justina?” she whispered, leaning to within a breath of my face, her eyes narrowing, “Justina Autumnsong?!”

Justina?! Angela yelled, her alarmed voice mirroring my own panic, Do you know this woman? What does she want? Does she know about Brandon?! Red flag! Big, fucking, red flag!

“Holy shit,” Night Eyes gasped, seeing the panicked expression I was giving her, “your mother’s Tera Autumnsong, isn’t she?”

“I… uh…” I did the only thing I could think of. I ripped off my glove, and grabbed Night Eyes by the wrist, pouring all my seductive powers into the touch. Her green eyes remained green, her black sclera remained black, and she remained herself. She glanced down at my hand, uselessly clasping her dainty wrist, and then smiled back up at me with a leer seeped in danger. I peed a little.

“I don’t blame you for trying that,” Night Eyes said softly, taking a deep inhale of her smoke, “a girl’s got to use what she can to defend herself, but if you weren’t my cousin, Justina, I’d be putting this square out on your eyeballs right now.”

“Cousin?” I whispered, peering fearfully though quivering eyes, “Willowbud? Willowbud Autumnsong?”

“It’s ‘Night Eyes’ in public,” Willowbud said, taking my hand off her wrist, and putting it on her thigh, “but since you’re family, you can call me ‘Willowbud’ when we’re alone.”

Whew, Angela breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief, she’s not an agent of evil trying to get to my brother, she’s just your cousin, who is apparently a psychopath, and also wants to fuck you. You know what, Justina? I think we can wrap this day up. Let’s go to The Oxehead’s Inn and drink until this memory is pickled from our brain. Justina?

I ignored Angela. The only family, hell, the only person I’d known my whole life was my mother, and here, sitting before me, was someone of my own blood. Now that I looked closer, I could see the resemblance between us. We had the same facial structure, the same full, blushing cheeks, and a similar body-type and complexion, though I was a shade darker. Were it not for the difference in hair color, eye color, and horns (and species), we could have been mistaken for sisters. I always wanted a sister.

“Oh my god!” I yelled, my face widening in astonishment, my composure blown to the wind, “You’re… you’re not a mutant!”

Willowbud grinned broadly, and gestured to the bulge in her pants. “Is that what people say about me?” she clucked her tongue and shook her head, “That’s Mom for ya. Her daughter is born with an extra set, and she tells everyone she’s a mutant freak. From what I’ve heard, there’s no love lost between her and Tera.”

“No!” I exclaimed, unable to speak in any manner except excited yells, “My mom fucking hates your mom!”

“Well then, we’ll all get along just fine.” Willowbud chuckled, reaching forward, grasping the leg of my stool, and dragging me next to her with surprising strength, “There,” Willowbud smiled, “you’re one foot closer to me; now you don’t have to yell for me to hear you.”

“Sorry,” I said, growing beat-red with embarrassment for the first time in my life, “I just got excited.”

“I have that effect on people,” Willowbud smiled crookedly, “How’s old Tera doing anyway? I never met the woman, but I’ve heard some crazy stories.”

“Oh, you know,” I said, completely flustered, my mind racing for conversation material, “she’s… Mom. She’s here meeting an old friend; do you know Gloria Titus?”

“Sure, I know Gloria,” Willowbud said, her smile curling wider, “we go way back.”

Careful, Justina, Angela breathed caution in my mind, she may be your cousin, but you don’t know her.

I know, I replied apologetically, that was stupid; she’s clearly dangerous. I lost my composure, and I’m sorry, Angela. That was very un-succubus of me.

You’re attracted to her, Angela sighed, I suppose incest really isn’t a problem for you, is it?

What about you? I asked Angela, running my fingers against Willowbud’s thigh, Do you still want her?

There’s a lot of things about this exchange that bother me, Angela said, seeming to mull it over, but you’re not even the same species, so the blood relation doesn’t irk me too much. She’s dangerous, you’re right, but I kind of like her brand of danger. She’s also hot as fuck.

Is that a green light? I asked hopefully.

You may recommence the flirtation phase, and make preparations for intercourse, Angela replied, receding into the back of my mind, but be careful, Justina.

“So…” I smiled to Willowbud as I walked my hand index finger-to-middle finger up her thigh, “what makes my beloved cousin such a big deal in Drastin?”

“Oh, a few things,” Willowbud smiled back, spreading her leg to allow my fingers to walk up her bulge, “I own this establishment.”

“An entrepreneur,” I smirked, walking my hand to her waistband, “fascinating.”

“I guess you could call me that.” Willowbud chuckled, taking me by the other hand and gracefully guiding me to step off my stool, and onto hers.

“A gangster then,” I said sultrily, stretching one leg over her lap, and then straddling her about the waist, making sure she saw I wasn’t wearing anything beneath my skirt, “a dangerous woman.”

“A very dangerous woman,” Willowbud smiled, trailing her hands up my thighs, caressing me softly as my fingers pushed beneath her waistband, “like Gloria Titus.”

“Oh, cousin,” I smirked into her eyes as my fingers found what they were searching for, “that almost sounded like a threat. I take it there’s no love lost between you?”

“We have our differences,” Willowbud said, her hands sliding past my thighs, and gripping me tightly below my skirt, “she tried to kill me today.”

Oh, shit. Angela whispered fearfully.

“That wasn’t very nice of her,” I giggled, marveling at the feeling of a cock in my hands for the first time, ignoring Angela’s fear, “I hope I’m not guilty by association.”

“Your anything but guilty,” Willowbud laughed, her hands squeezing me just right, causing my tail to curl behind me in excitement, “you’re as innocent as they come, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” I whispered, my lips inches from hers, my breath growing sharp as she grew hard, “And here I thought I was being quite the seductress.”

“No,” Willowbud smiled, spreading my squeezed glutes and trailing a teasing finger from each hand around the nerve-covered circle of my rim, “you’re timid for a girl of your species. You have the spirit, but not the experience.”

“Are you going to give me the experience?” I breathed on her lips, feeling the need roaring between my legs, feeling her hard heat throbbing between my hands.

“One that you’ll never forget.” Willowbud grinned. Her fingers pushed into my ass, curled at the knuckles and pulled apart, stretching me open, sending a blast of searing pleasure deep into my colon. My heart jolted in exhilaration, my body melted into hers, and my lips opened around her awaiting mouth. Her kiss was domineering, lustfully possessive, and I drank it in as my hips gyrated pathetically around her piercing digits. She pushed in deeper, forcing my body to shift upward, forcing a muffled scream from my mouth as she spread my virgin asshole gaping. My lecherous cry traveled between her lips as I hastily pulled her pants past her thighs, springing her shaft from her waistband. It nestled between the dripping petals of my lust, throbbing teasingly against them, so close to pushing inside me, so close to giving me what I needed. My cry turned to a whorish wine in her mouth as I pleaded desperately for her to give it to me, to sate the ravenous emptiness that tortured my depths. She pulled my body upward with her penetrating fingers, causing my shoulders to pinch back as a shiver raced between them. My pussy glided along her shaft; the swollen folds squishing their delicate flesh about her girth, and leaking a trail down her length. My slit finally opened against her tip, and she held me there, letting my weight cause her fingers to push deeper into my anus, delaying my womanhood for an agonizing moment, making me scream my desperation into her mouth. Her smiled creased against my lips, pleased with my begging, and she let me drop. Our kiss broke, my chest lurched forward, my eyes widened, and a song of sweet satisfaction poured from me as my virginity was finally taken. It was painful, and I felt the blood, but my lewd body adapted easily, exalting as it fulfilled its lecherous purpose. Somewhere in my mind, I heard Angela’s voice moaning.

ANGELA

I doubted that I would’ve enjoyed the things Willowbud was doing to me if I were in my own body. Four of her fingers were pushed knuckle-deep in my ass, and pulling apart; stretching me open, letting the stiff air of the brothel tickle my exposed insides. I doubted that I would’ve enjoyed fucking in public if I were in my own brain, but Justina’s mind didn’t care about such things. I doubted I would’ve enjoyed the violent way in which my virginity was taken, but Justina’s body absolutely reveled in it. I doubted I would have enjoyed any of this in my own body and mind, but I wasn’t in my own body and mind. I was in the hormone-soaked mind of a succubus teenager, and the body it controlled was built for the perverse.

So, I said in astonished pleasure, feeling everything Justina felt, this is what it feels like.

God, it feels so good! Justina giggled mentally as she moaned physically, Are you OK in there?

Oh, I’m fine, I said, my mental voice wavering as Willowbud began to thrust into us, you just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll sit up here and enjoy it.

You don’t want a turn in control? Justina asked, shifting her hips with an instinctual grace that would never have come naturally to me.

You’re a natural at this, I said, savoring the thick heat separating our insides, marveling at the way Justina clenched perfectly around the nymph, give me some time to learn, and I’ll tell you when I’m ready for my turn.

OK, Angela. Justina replied, her mind drifting from me, to the task at hand.

Willowbud’s sodomizing fingers worked deeper into our anus as our body swayed to Justina’s perverse rhythm. Willowbud rotated her wrists and pressed her fingertips against the channel dividing our holes, squishing the fleshy membrane against her driving cock. Justina’s scream echoed my own pleasure, and our body dove into a lascivious arc of concavity; our petite breasts bursting from our blouse and squishing against Willowbud’s bare chest, our torsos flexing in waves against hers. Our head dropped onto Willowbud’s shoulder, and Justina panted our pleasure into her cousin’s ear.

“Do you like my fingers in your ass, Cousin?” Willowbud whispered, her breaths short and fast with the exertion of her lust.

“Yes!” Justina panted as we writhed, “do you like my tail, Cousin?”

Justina curled her tail behind us, took aim, and drove. She corkscrewed it between her cousin’s clenched glutes, pushed it past the resistance of her rim, and snaked it through the taught reaches of Willowbud’s gripping anus. Willowbud reeled her head back, and surged into us with a fury of thrusts that sent Justina screaming, and me drowning in her endorphins.

“Oh, you little bitch!” Willowbud laughed, curling her fingers harder in retaliation, causing Justina to growl with pleasure.

“Takes one, to know one.” Justina growled, pressing our body deeper to Willowbud’s and twisting our tail further into her cousin’s ass.

“You’ve got some balls, girl.” Willowbud grinned, adding a finger from each hand, stretching our anus into a ruined gape.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Justina smirked an open-mouthed, panting smile.

Don’t pick the low-hanging fruit, Justina. I scolded.

Fruits. Justina mentally chuckled.

The barstool beneath us was shaking dangerously, tipping from foot to foot with the momentum of Willowbud’s drives. The seat of the stool was soaked with my secretion, and I could feel the slickness causing us to slide dangerously close to the edge. Willowbud sensed the impending disaster before Justina seemed to, and picked us up by the asshole, once again. Justina shrieked in abject pleasure, our eyes watering with her delight, our legs locking around Willowbud’s driving hips. She spun us around, laying us on our back atop the bar, our ass hanging off the edge, our pelvis shaking with the brutal drives of the hermaphroditic nymph. Justina managed to keep our tail inside Willowbud’s ass, and she twisted it encouragingly, prompting her cousin to jackhammer her way into us, forcing a convulsion of violent ecstasy to spasm up our abdomen.

Holy shit, that got her going! I screamed, basking in Justina’s visceral pleasure, Do it again!

Justina complied, and the results were… unexpected. Willowbud gritted her teeth, ripped her hands out of our ass, grabbed us by the hips, and spun us around. Our tail tore free from its penetrating position, our legs flailed outwardly like a ragdoll’s, and our breasts squished against the bar’s surface as our chin barely stopped from colliding into it. We were left bent over the bar, our back curved in a compromising position, our ass perched onto the barstool, and our legs dangling uselessly on either side. Willowbud pulled her cock out of our pussy, positioned the tip against our gaping anus, and forced her entire length inside of us. Our back wrenched upward, our neck striated with tension, and Justina’s scream of abject pain and pleasure tore from our lips. It was silenced immediately by a pair of hands, whose fingers pushed into our mouth, and made us taste the tang of our own ass. Justina sucked whorishly, reveling in the degradation, her lust naturally adapting to whatever her partner desired.

“You have such an anal fixation, Cousin,” Willowbud growled, ramming into our gaping asshole, sending bouts of ferocious felicity deep into our bowels, “if you wanted it in the ass so bad, you could’ve just asked.”

Our pussy leaked onto the barstool, our thighs clenched around its legs, our back arched, and our mouth sobbed Justina’s subservient pleasure. I was shocked at how good it felt to have something pierce us so deeply in the wrong hole, but I couldn’t share in Justina’s depraved lust, not after what I just saw. I forced myself to withdraw from Justina’s mind, reluctantly abandoning the pleasure that ran up her spine, into her brain, and then into mine. I focused on the flashing image I saw of Willowbud right before she spun us around. Justina’s steel-trap of a memory served me well, and I rewound the proverbial tape until I saw… her. A woman of blackness, a shadow in all things except the white irises, and the ivory teeth grinning maliciously at me.

Justina! I yelled, racing back to the forefront of her mind, my soul immediately assaulted with the euphoria of my friend’s anal assault, Justina-(oh shit, that feels good)-Justina, what the fuck is this?!

Justina didn’t answer. Her mind was flooded with dopamine and endorphins, a swamp of pleasure that drowned lucid thought. I found a stream of consciousness thrumming gently in her frontal lobe, and I raced to it.

Justina! I yelled, wavering in her euphoria, fighting the temptation to succumb to it, Justina, what the fuck is-

Fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass… was all that thought responded with.

Willowbud took hold of Justina’s horns and pulled back, forcing Justina’s perspective upside-down, forcing her body to curve with jutting breasts, a distended abdomen, and an arching back. Justina looked at her cousin with eyes glazed-over in pleasure, and I looked at the thing inside the nymph. Justina couldn’t see it, and Willowbud couldn’t see me, but I knew by the way it’s white irises narrowed, that the thing could see me.

What are you? a soft, drawling voice of a woman echoed faintly in my mind.

Justina?! I yelled to my screaming host, Justina, did you hear that?

Fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass-fuck-my-ass…

Your friend is losing herself, the voice whispered, growing more distinct now, her seduction is backfiring. It was foolish of her to lie with Willowbud after she attempted an enslavement, but I suppose a virgin girl is prone to foolish mistakes. I’m not interested in this whore, though; what are you, girl?

I ignored the voice, and raced through Justina’s mind, trying to find a rational thought I could cling to, trying to find a way to save her. Her consciousness was a minefield of lust, and it took all my will not to join in it. Willowbud’s cock was ramming into Justina’s asshole, gaping it wider with each thrust, pushing her rigid heat into the most sensitive, vulnerable places of her rectum. Justina was sobbing with pleasure, her eyes running with euphoria as her mouth wailed. She moved with her natural lechery; grinding her ass into Willowbud, arching her back and clenching her asshole, reveling in the pain and pleasure she garnered from her cousin forcing through her resistances. It was almost too much for me to take, but I gritted my mental teeth, and powered through until I found her. Justina’s rational mind was barely functioning, but it was still there, deep in the bog of her dopamine-soaked mania.

Justina?! I yelled in panic, my ethereal voice wavering in her pleasure.

It’s too good, Angela, Justina’s last rational thought whispered, her voice dripping with depravity, it’s just too good!

Your being enslaved! I cried, Your seduction is backfiring, like what happened to your mom!

I know, Justina said, I knew it might happen before we started, but I was too desperate, Angela; I’m sorry.

We need to fight it! I said, trying to bring Justina back to reality, We can do it together!

No… Justina said, her voice growing faint, we can’t… It’s inevitable now… How did she resist me? She shouldn’t have been able to…

Justina? I yelled. No response. JUSTINA?!

That… memory you have… Justina replied, her words coming without structure, show it to me… the black woman…

I looked through her eyes, seeing the black figure that teemed from Willowbud’s thrusting body, showing Justina what I could see, but she could not.

Huh, Justina said, her fading voice almost laughing, that… explains…. a lot. Angela…, we’re… in… the… presence… of… a… bed… time… story… Corruption…

Justina’s voice faded from her mind, dwindling until it was nothing at all. The tones of her lust rang out through her brain; moans and cries, screams and growls, all exclamations of a euphoria too great for her mind to control. She was gone, a slave to her cousin, a slave to a woman who possessed an evil of mythology. I hovered from my friend’s consciousness, not daring the step into her mind lest I join her in slavery, but not daring to leave. Willowbud would undoubtedly question Justina about Tera’s visit to Gloria, and I couldn’t have my enslaved friend enthusiastically betraying my brother. I would wait, and when the time came, I would take control of Justina, and book it to the Oxehead’s Inn.

What are you? Corruption asked again. I looked through Justina’s eyes, and saw the Sentient staring back at me, a perplexed look on her ethereal face. It was an expression of near-recognition, of a memory that she knew, but couldn’t quite grasp. Her wispy form moved limb-for-limb with her host; grabbing as Willowbud grabbed, thrusting as Willowbud thrusted, but her expression did not bear the sexual zeal of her nymph counterpart. Willowbud released one of Justina’s horns, reeled back her hand, and smacked the succubus hard on the ass. Justina’s body heaved in pleasure, her possessed voice begged sobbingly for more, and Willowbud acquiesced; slapping Justina’s ass into violent ripple of tan flesh, sending the sodomized succubus into a writhe of debauched euphoria. Corruption’s hand did not move with her host’s. It reached forward tentatively, nervously, as though I were a flame that she’d dropped her wedding ring into. I bared my ethereal teeth and snarled, and she cringed backward, her black eyes widening in fear, her white irises shrinking. She collected herself, and then reached forward again. I gave her another snarl, and she started backward, but she recovered faster than before. She furrowed her brow, set her heart-shaped jaw, and extended for me. Her fingers passed through Justina’s flailing skin, passed through her bones, and touched my hand. It was a warm touch, a soothing touch, and it beckoned me forward, out of Justina’s mind and body.

Come with me. Corruption said.

No. I replied, resisting the comfort her touch promised.

I won’t harm you, child. Corruption said, grasping my ethereal hand in hers, Just come with me.

FUCK OFF! I yelled, ripping my hand away and receding back to Justina. Corruption looked genuinely dejected. She recoiled as if struck, and then reached out again. I swatted her hand away, and grinned at her crestfallen expression.

Please! Corruption cried, her voice baring a hint of desperation, I must know!

Na-ah, sister, I said, stubbornly situating myself inside my moaning friend, you just stay in your body, and I’ll stay in mine.

Corruption took a tentative step forward, out of Willowbud’s body. Her eyes were fixed on me, as though my existence was a magnet to her soul. She took another step forward, and for a moment, she was completely out of the nymph. Willowbud slowed her thrusts, her eyes began to lighten, her grimace began to soften. Corruption abruptly stopped, a look of sheer terror on her face. She jumped back into Willowbud, darkening the nymph’s eyes, and reforming the power-hungry expression that had faded before. The image of the astral being dwindled, and then she was gone.

BRANDON

I have to fuck my sister, to save her. The perverse reality echoed in my mind as I buried myself in the foliage I’d created. I felt familiar hands on my shoulders, and a pair of beautiful violet eyes filled my vision.

“Brandon?” Tera asked as she righted me into a seated position with my back resting on the enormous pumpkin I’d just made, “Are you alright?”

“I am not,” I said grumpily, “I am actually very far from alright. How are you?”

“I’m feeling a little vindicated, to be honest,” Tera smirked, sitting next to me and resting her head on my shoulder, “all that grief I got from you about incest, and now…”

“Don’t,” I groaned, “just… don’t.”

Gloria stepped daintily through the garden that was once her room, avoiding the patches of soil that now covered her carpet and crinkling her nose at the dead raccoon-squirrel I had accidentally created. She sat cross-legged across from me in a bed of orchids, leveled her red eyes on me, and bowed her head in respect.

“Your Holiness,” she uttered with some reverence, “I’m honored to have you in my home.”

“Oh, now it’s ‘Your Holiness,’ huh?” I scoffed, feeling very bitter about my situation, “just a few minutes ago I was a hillbilly from a shithole.”

“You still are,” Gloria said, her blood-red lips quirking in a slight smirk, “you’re just a holy hillbilly from a shithole.”

“Gloria’s a Creationist,” Tera said from my shoulder, “and she’s one of the only people alive to have actually known past Creators. She will be a valuable ally to you.”

“I knew Droktin, the last Earth Former, Trenok, the last Life Giver, and Arbitrus Gen, the last Heat Bringer.” Gloria said, “I knew Trenok especially well, as his brother and I were lovers once.”

“You were lovers with Wrath?” Tera asked.

“Yes,” Gloria said, her face falling into an expression of melancholy, “Halok was a great man in his time. Watching him degrade after Trenok passed was… difficult to say the least. It is not a fate I’d wish on my worst enemy, which is why it is imperative that you bind with your sister.”

“Can’t we just…” I said, searching vainly for a way out of doing what Gloria said I had to do, “is there any other way I can make sure Angela doesn’t become Sentient?”

“Trenok tried everything,” Gloria said, shaking her head, “he worked for the last fifty years of his life to find a way to make Halok mortal, but he couldn’t. He even tried lying with him, and that didn’t work. The sex isn’t enough to seal the bind; there has to be love, romantic love, for a bind to seal.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I mumbled, “Angela’s doomed.”

“Are you sure?” Gloria said, “Because-”

“Not! Gonna! Happen!” I yelled, and then slouched against the pumpkin. Tera pet my head consolingly as Gloria studied me, her lips pursed and her finger drumming on her knee.

“I have a method, Your Holiness,” Gloria finally said, “of making someone receptive to an idea they otherwise might find… distasteful.”

“I don’t need any more crazy bitches trying to fuck with my head, thank you very much.” I replied curtly.

“Any more?” Gloria smiled, “Did Tera try to enslave you?”

“I did,” Tera murmured, running her hand down the back of my head, and massaging my neck, “it obviously didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work on me, either,” Gloria chuckled, “for a famous seductress, you certainly have some prominent failures. My method, however, has never failed.”

“And what method is that, Gloria?” Tera asked lazily, her body splayed in her naturally seductive state, her thick, bronze thighs sneaking from beneath the hem of her cloak.

“Come here,” Gloria smiled, beckoning the succubus with a suggestive finger, “and I’ll show you.”

“Hey!” I yelled, “Didn’t I just say I’m not letting you mess with my head?”

“Who said anything about you?” Gloria smiled innocently, “It’s Tera I asked for.”

Tera shifted fluidly beside me, drawing herself to her hands and knees and crawling lasciviously to the awaiting vampire. Gloria spread her legs, her skirt sliding past her thighs, showing me that she wasn’t wearing underwear, and that she was bald below the eyebrows. I averted my gaze, but not in time to avoid her red glare twinkling with a knowing smile. Tera made a move to straddle the vampire, but Gloria stopped her with an extended hand. She placed her palm on Tera’s collar, and pulled the cloak to the side, shifting its neckline until it exposed Tera’s neck, shoulder, and upper back on one side of her body.

“Feeling thirsty, Gloria?” Tera smiled, turning so that she faced me, and seating herself in the vampire’s lap, “I’ve heard my kind is considered quite the delicacy amongst vampires.”

“I guess you could say that,” Gloria hummed softly, pulling Tera’s wavy black hair to the side, leaving her naked and vulnerable along the elegant bow of her tan neck, “we consider your kind to be more of a narcotic than anything. Every vampire orgy has at least one sacrificial succubus to keep guests in the mood.”

Gloria eyed the veins in Tera’s throat, tracing a covetous finger down their blue lengths. She tilted Tera’s head to the side, planted her full, red lips on her neck, and bit. Tera whimpered a pathetic tone, her eyes closed blissfully, her chest swelled forward, and her head fell backward. She bit her lower lip in concentrative pleasure, and her body melted to Gloria’s in languorous submission. Gloria watched me as she drank of the succubus, and I watched as her red irises thinned to the dilation of her black pupils. She pulled from Tera with a gasp, her lips trembling and her breaths heaving, as though a shot of adrenaline had just rushed into her brain. Tera collapsed with relaxed grace as Gloria fell in a twisting writhe. She gasped and moaned as she shed her clothes like a snake sheds its skin; squirming and wriggling out of her skirt, grinding her thighs together, clawing at the laces of her corset until it unwound, and the milky expanse of her breasts jiggled free. Tera disrobed with practiced fluidity; pulling off her cloak with languid ease, stretching and arching her way to nakedness. Gloria kicked off her shoes and then spun rapidly, almost violently, to her hands and knees. Her dilated pupils shown from her crimson glare, and reflected my face in their ravenous regard. She drew her body into a crawl like a feline, stalking toward me with her hips rocking behind her, her predatory eyes gleaming their desire, her fangs protruding from her blood-red lips.

“Um, Gloria?” I said nervously, “Didn’t you say you were going to leave me out of this?”

“I lied.” Gloria grinned.

“Hey!” I yelled, the déjà vu of my situation not at all lost on me, “Get back! Your god commands you to stop!”

“Gloria just had a drink of me, Brandon,” Tera smiled as she crawled behind the vampire, “and she needs a way to relieve the dual-injection of hormones that just shot into her brain. I wouldn’t try to fight her; she likes it when her prey struggles.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Your Holiness,” Gloria said as she climbed up my struggling body, subduing my defenses with impossible strength, “but the world can’t afford another Sentient.”

I am a god of infinite power, I thought grimly as she took my head in her hands, and I can’t even avoid getting molested by old women.

I felt Gloria’s breath hot and sweet on my neck. I felt her voluptuous body melding its supple warmth along the curves of my own. I felt her blood-red lips press to the pulsing artery of my throat, and I felt her fangs sink into me. A concoction of Tera’s blood and vampiric venom seeped into my neck, and burned its intoxicating poison into my heart. My body relaxed into gelatinous butter, my cock engorged like a water balloon, and my mind opened. Gloria took an indulgent moment to taste my blood, and then pulled from my neck with a parting kiss, her tongue lapping up the droplets she missed. She gently guided our faces together until they touched at the forehead, and locked her gaze with mine. Her eyes were a sea of crimson, endless in their depths, and limitless in their expanse. The truth of the world seemed to emanate from their pupils, and the promise of desires fulfilled burned from their fiery rings.

“Your Holiness,” Gloria’s voice sung gently as she ran soothing fingers through my hair, “we’re going to do a little psychotherapy today. I’m sorry, but I had to give you some injections to make you more… receptive, to my methods.”

“Oh, I’m receptive,” I grinned stupidly, feeling like the king of the fucking world, “I am receptive as fuck!”

“That’s good to hear,” Gloria smiled broadly, displaying her glistening fangs between her crimson lips, “because we need to plant some ideas in that divine brain of yours, and they won’t bear fruit if the field is sour.”

“Metaphors!” I exclaimed delightedly, “and topical metaphors! You are an absolute treat, Gloria.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Gloria chuckled, and then directed my attention to the succubus pulling down my pants, “This is your sister.”

“No,” I giggled, poking the silly vampire on the nose, “that is Tera. She is not my sister; she is a disgusting whore.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your sister.” Gloria frowned.

“But…” I said, cocking my head in confusion, “I just said she’s not my sister.”

“Are you sexually attracted to her?” Gloria asked, gesturing to Tera, who was resting her chin on my thigh and staring covetously at the cock between my legs.

“Oh, very much so!” I said, confirming the sentiment with a gesture to my obvious arousal, “And I am also sexually attracted to you! Are you going to have sex with me?”

“Would you like me to?” Gloria smirked crookedly, running her tongue through the moist flesh of her lips, “Well, I am also your sister, Your Holiness; do you want your sister to have sex with you?”

“But…” I trailed off, my brow furrowing in confusion, “you’re not my sister… are you?”

“Of course, I am,” Gloria smiled, her crimson eyes deepening the longer I stared into them, “how can you not know that?”

“I…” I started, losing myself in the depths of her irises, their passionate hue blanketing my vision, “I don’t remember you.”

“Look deeper,” Gloria whispered, “see for yourself.”

Gloria’s irises gleamed their crimson passion, and her lips hovered longingly, just breaths away from my own. The depths of her eyes spoke with unequivocal honesty, and their lenses reflected images that melded seamlessly to memory. She was my sister, wasn’t she? Tera and Gloria were my big sisters, and Angela was my twin. Gloria, Tera and I shared our bodies, but Angela couldn’t, because Angela was dead. I had made a promise to Angela; I had promised to make her a new body, so that she could share it with me. I was so close to doing it, but I needed more training. I needed my big sisters to help me. I ran my hand up the silky expanse of Gloria’s belly, marveling at the texture of her flesh as it gave way to my calloused palm. I cupped a supple breast and pinched the nipple, twisting it like I knew she liked, somehow. Her red eyes drooped, their lids dark with smoky liner, accentuating the blaze of her hellish irises. Our lips connected beneath our closing gaze, and our tongues entwined as our bodies pressed together. Her hand moved between us, and stroked me softly as I rotated her erect, pink node in my fingers, and ran my other hand along the graceful curve of her back. Her delectable kiss melted its desire into my mouth as her fingers drew me ever outward, ever harder. She parted from our kiss with a breathy exit, and smiled into my eyes.

“You said Tera was a disgusting whore,” Gloria whispered, her tongue flicking across my lips, “now I’m going to show you how disgusting your oldest sister can be.”

Gloria lowered her body, trailing her tongue along my form as she descended. It lathered my neck, circled my nipple, drew down my abdomen, slithered across my pelvis, skipped my cock, sheened my balls, and… Let me preface this by saying that I am one-hundred-percent heterosexual. I am a manly-man, who likes manly things. I like woodcarving, fishing, hunting, and apparently, a busty vampire sticking her tongue up my ass. Gloria’s red eyes gleamed from beneath my pelvis as her lips wrapped around my rim, and her warm, wet tongue pushed inside. My balls quaked from their draped position on her nose, a groan of satisfaction leaked past my lips, and my cock curved backward with aching engorgement.

“Your big sister is absolutely repulsive,” Tera giggled as Gloria planted her hands on my glutes and spread me, “I wonder if Angela will do that for you?”

“I hope so,” I muttered, watching Tera’s snake-like tongue slither from her mouth, “I want all my sisters to do that to me.”

“Well then,” Tera smirked, her long tongue curling teasingly, “don’t let me disappoint you, little brother.”

Tera’s smiling, violet eyes moved next to her older sister’s red ones. They both peered up at me with a teasing glint as Tera placed her thumbs on either side of my rectum, spread me open, and penetrated me with her reptilian tongue, entwining it with her sister’s inside me. I gritted my teeth as I felt their sloppy, wet invasion deepen, coursing their entangled members through my filth, pressing teasingly against my prostate. Their lips met on opposite sides of my rim and sucked, drawing me outward as they pushed inward. My heels dug into the soil that covered the carpet, and I began thrusting my hips, losing my ability to stay still in the heat of the violating sensation. Tera kept her hands on my ass while Gloria reached upward, and stroked my raging hardness, settling me back down. Their tongues curled together inside me, curving upward and running along my ceiling, milking my internal organ, causing my loins to boil in eminent release. I know they felt it, I could tell by the teasing light in their eyes, but they didn’t stop. The pressed their hot, wet tongues against my pulsing cum-maker, and pushed me over the edge. I let out a gasp, thrusted my hips upward, and came in an explosion. Tera, not one to waste a free meal, withdrew from my ass in a slithering pull, wrapped her tongue thrice about my spewing member, and stroked me as I poured my seed into her open mouth. Gloria hummed her approval of my climax, and rotated her sucking lips around my rim as she continued to press her tongue against my emptying prostate. She didn’t stop her anal kiss until the last drop was spilled from my tip, and Tera had licked it clean from my twitching cock. The succubus held my still-hard rod in her hand, and smiled down at Gloria as she pulled out of me; her red eyes gleaming as she licked her lips, savoring the taste of my sinful hole.

“I think he’s got more in there, what do you think, big sister?” Tera sniggered, smiling at a joke I apparently wasn’t in on.

“Oh, he’s got plenty more,” Gloria grinned, taking hold of my cock and running her fingers covetously down it, “after what I put in his blood, this thing will be standing tall for a long time.”

“What a dirty, anal slut you are, little brother,” Tera smiled, “I wonder if Angela shares the same preference.”

“I certainly do,” Gloria whispered with a seductive fry as she crawled up my body, her pale ass perched behind her shifting hips, her massive breasts jiggling from her chest, “do you want to fuck your big sis in the ass, Your Holiness?”

That must have been a rhetorical question, because before I could answer, Gloria drew her magnificent, pale body upright, squatted over me, and sat. Her passionate eyes drooped in a near-mournful expression, her mouth moaned a sobbing tone, her thighs flexed to her bending knees, and her pink petals leaked her lust down her taint, and into her stretching, pink rim. Her aperture expanded around me, her anus gripped me in its vile heat, and her muscles clenched, sucking me into her as she descended, until her ass pressed against my pelvis, and we moaned in mutual satisfaction. Gloria took a lip-biting moment to savor her anal penetration, closing her eyes, inhaling deeply, and letting out a sigh. When her eyes opened, they no longer bore the vulnerable, mournful look she’d worn before, but a ravenous, dangerous look. Her blood-red lips opened to reveal her grinning fangs, and she reached forward, took me by the shoulders, and pressed my face into her tits.

“I don’t know how you and Tera fuck, little brother,” Gloria growled as she grinded her ass onto my pelvis, pressing down so hard it almost hurt, “but I require a little violence with my love; do you think you can give that to me?”

I didn’t, until Gloria dug two sets of fingernails into my back and ripped across my shoulders. Then, I was more than willing to give her what she wanted. The anger surged into me with the pain, and I took two handfuls of black hair, and ripped backward. Gloria’s chin jutted into the air, and she laughed a manic tone of delight as she locked her legs around my waist. She squeezed the breath out of me with her thighs, and twisted an encouraging nail between my shoulders. I pulled her hair further back, feeling her rectum clenching around me the harder I yanked, hearing her combative laugh grow shrill with her pain. Her breasts were nearly suffocating me between their succulent domes, but I soldiered on, and took a pert nipple into my mouth.

“Bite it!” Gloria gasped, her body a writhing mess of powerful muscle and supple flesh. I acquiesced, and bit down with less gentleness than I normally would. The delicate node of her breast drew outward and engorged, reddening with its erectness. I teethed it and pulled it backward, stretching her pale dome to a conical point, feeling her pussy gushing against my pelvis and her asshole coil like a fist around my driving cock. I didn’t thrust in and out of Gloria, so much as I heaved our bodies upward. Her grinding was so impassioned, so combative, that it barely let an inch of me out of her at a time. It was as though I was trapped within her, and every move I made to pull out was countered with a growling drive of her hips, squishing her ass into my pelvis until it bulged vulgarly from her backside. My cock buried into her sinful channel, grinded along her delicate flesh, and she consumed me with ravenous greed; drawing me into her, welcoming me deeper, challenging me to pull out and rail into her. Our bodies writhed in locked combat, connected and shifting, but not colliding. We wrestled with passionate hedonism, twisting together in a perverse dance, curving and arching as one, but never pulling apart. Our skin grew hot and slick, our breaths grew short and shallow, we didn’t moan and cry, but snarled and growled, reveling in the contest, savoring the struggle as our muscles tensed against each other. I looked up from the nipple I was torturing, and saw Gloria’s stretched neck striating with tension as I pulled her hair harder. Her red lips were peeled back in a grimace, and her mouth was spouting her guttural approval. I knew damn-well that the moment I let her hair go, Gloria was going to bite me; I could see it glinting from her hungry eyes. I also knew that my grip strength wasn’t going to last much longer. I made my move. I let her go, feeling strands of hair come off in my hands. Her head snapped forward, her mouth grinning as it passed my cheek and closed lustily on my throat, her fangs sinking their painless bite into my neck and drinking of me as she seeped her intoxicating venom. I gasped, letting her nipple fall from my mouth, and I used the last of my will to reached behind her, and spread her ass wide for the succubus who had snuck around her back.

Gloria’s head reeled back, her mouth gaped in a crimson oval, and she screamed. Tera’s entire hand slid alongside my cock, and gripped me from inside of the vampire’s constricting sheath.

“You know I don’t like it when you pick on our little brother,” Tera whispered into Gloria’s ear, her face smirking in sexual malice as her sister screamed in sexual agony, “you need to learn how to play nice.”

Tera’s reptilian tongue licked the side of Gloria’s screaming face as her violet eyes watched me with teasing amusement. She began to stroke me from the inside, grinding her knuckles along the tender reaches of Gloria’s anus, and the vampire lost the last of her composure. Her back wrenched in an arch, her tits jiggled forward, her head reeled back, and she came violently. The subtle musculature of her abdomen convulsed beneath her pale canvas, and her insides clenched around me and Tera in a vulgar, heated embrace. She fell on her back, writhing in her visceral ecstasy, and Tera giggled, pulled her hand and my cock out, and made Gloria taste her own ass.

“I know you’re going to make me pay for this later,” Tera laughed sweetly as Gloria’s mouth closed around her fingers, “your proclivity for whips and chains is infamous. I just want you to know that I’m looking forward to your vengeance, but I’m going to enjoy your subservience now.”

Gloria recovered from her climax, and looked on the verge of enacting her vengeance right then and there. Two lengths of thick vines laced up her arms, wrapping about her wrists, elbows and shoulders, and pinning her to the ground. Another length of vine wrapped loosely around her neck, forcing her chin upward. Gloria struggled and thrashed for a moment, her eyes blazing with fury, and then she stopped, feeling the smooth vines that were snaking up her legs, and an excited grin formed across her face.

“Oh, Brandon,” Tera exclaimed, testing the binds that held her sister, not looking back to see what was approaching her, “this opens up all kinds of possibilities!”

“I wonder how smooth he can make them,” Gloria smiled, watching as two young, green vines snaked through her dripping pussy, and slithered to Tera’s unassuming backside, “or if they can be lubricated?”

“That is an interesting idea,” Tera chuckled, pulling up her leg to straddle Gloria’s mouth, “we’ll do a brainstorming session after I’m done sitting on your faaaaAAAAAA!”

They were lubricated with sap, by the way, but I doubted that lessened the shock. They came together, wrapping in a tight coil, and then they corkscrewed through the purple outline of Tera’s puckered rim. Two thick, barky vines wrapped around Tera’s wrists, pulling her arms back, as two more wrapped around her ankles, spreading her legs. Tera’s tan back flexed in concavity as she strained against her new binds, and Gloria laughed as the succubus screamed in abject delight. The smooth, wet vines worked in tandem; stretching Tera open, exposing her dark insides, squirming their way into her colon and thrusting in and out. Clear secretion leaked from Tera’s desecrated bowels, her hips squirmed in a rapturous gyration, her head fell uselessly behind her, her onyx hair draping to her supple backside, and she stared at me with glazed-over eyes as her mouth vocalized possessed euphoria. I shared a smirk with Gloria, and then gently guided Tera forward, to sit on her sister’s face. Gloria opened her mouth and sucked sensually upon Tera’s leaking petals as her tongue slid between them. Her red eyes drooped in satisfaction, and she thrust her hips upward below me, shimmying them in a needful dance. I took a grip of pale thighs, spread them, and pushed my filthy cock into her pristine, pink slit. She wrapped her legs around my waist again, but his time, she didn’t try to squeeze the life out of me, but gently beckoned me to thrust inside. I enjoyed our earlier bout of lustful wrestling, but it was nice to have some room to maneuver, and I used that room to make Gloria pay for every bite and scratch on my body.

My pelvis slammed into the pale splay of Gloria’s crotch, my cock pushed through her glistening, pink petals, who’s fleshy cuff gripped me tightly with each exit, beckoning me back inside. Her thighs rippled with the impact of my thrusts, her mouth moaned its muffled tone into Tera’s cunt, and her body shifted in escalating lechery beneath her writhing sister. Tera’s tan complexion wriggled across Gloria’s milky surface; her legs quivering and flexing about her bound ankles, her shoulders pinching together, protruding their blades from her flexing back, her hips gyrating in possessed movements, dancing perversely to the twisting vines that corkscrewed in and out, stretching the bronze slut into a gape of debauched ruin, with her tail coiling behind her in the animalistic expression of her euphoria. Gloria’s stifled moans became cries in her mouth as I thrust harder and harder, feeling her flexing womanhood massaging me with lewd muscles, trying to draw the seed from my loins. Tera watched me through glistening eyes, her purple lips agape and singing her climax, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of her lust. I stared from violet eyes to red, and watched the euphoric change happen behind both as the three of us ascended, tones of our catharsis echoing through the room, a harmony of siblings in the grip of lust, long since fallen to the sweet temptation of forbidden flesh. My loins roiled and ached with pressure, my back screamed for reprieve, my thrusts became fervent drives that broke Gloria in as she came. I roared the last of myself, my body heaving with the exertion of it, my chest beating with the feeling of it, my head light with the insanity of it. I erupted as Tera sung her sweet release and Gloria muffled hers. I poured what was left of my seed into the vampire’s gripping folds, and then fell back into the foliage, my binds releasing the women. A flock of starlings materialized from my euphoria, almost all of them perfect, only a few of them carrying defects. They flitted around the room, chirping their annoyed conversation as the three people beneath them gasped and panted in satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” Gloria gasped, climbing up my body and laying her head on my heaving chest, her red eyes staring their adoration, “I forgot what it was like to lay with divinity.”

“Hey, Gloria?” I said, feeling memories and thoughts rearrange in my head, “You’re not really my sister, are you?”

“You’re an absolute genius, Your Holiness,” Gloria smiled, planting a kiss on my nipple, “don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re a simple hillbilly from butt-fuck nowhere.”

“And you, Tera?” I asked as the succubus languidly crawled over to me, and rested her head in my lap, “You’re not really my sister either, are you?”

“I can be if you want,” Tera smiled blissfully, her tongue caressing my deflating member, “I’ll be whatever you want, however you want it, Brandon.”

“So,” I said, feeling my mind piece back together, “what the fuck was the point of all that?”

“Hmm,” Gloria hummed with a small smile as she lazily circled my nipple with her finger, “tell me, Your Holiness; what is the first thing that comes to your mind when I say the name: ‘Angela?’”

Angela sitting reservedly on the bed, clinging to a shawl that wraps her nubile figure. She stares nervously up at me, her shoulders hunched demurely, her smile small and shy. She looks down, bashful, her face blushing, her body shrinking. I take her by the chin, affectionately running my thumb over her flushing cheek, raising her gaze to meet mine. Her smile broadens, the fear leaves her, she lets the shawl go. It flows off her, draping from curve to curve until it shows her beautiful nakedness. I lower my face to hers, and her eyes close as her lips part.

“Oh… fuck.” I whispered as I grew hard as a rock.

ASTRID

I lay satisfied and ashamed, blissful and disgraced atop the table. The crowd was gone, the doors were locked, and the last man had finished inside me. The manic euphoria that had possessed me was gone, but I still felt different. I wasn’t the same woman who had walked through those brothel doors. I had enjoyed the sins meant to torment me, and had reveled in the debasement of myself. To make things worse, I realized I didn’t feel as ashamed as I wanted to. In fact, the biggest source of shame for me, was that I felt so little of it. There were warrior women who would have fallen on their own blade after enduring what I had endured, but me? I was looking forward to the next time it would happen. You are a disgrace, my conscience told me, you aren’t even a Valkyrie anymore. I tried to convince myself this was all in the service of my god, that it was a noble sacrifice I had to make, but it didn’t feel that way. I had to be very careful, very conscious of my state of being; Mistress said she’d try to twist and change me, and with Corruption inside her, she knew exactly how to do it.

“Astrid!” Mistress called jovially, a young, naked succubus on her arm, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, Mistress.” I smiled blissfully, savoring the hot, sticky seed covering my naked body, and then chastising myself for enjoying it.

“I bet,” Mistress smiled, brushing crusted strands of hair from my face, “you had such a big day, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I sighed, peeling myself from the table top. I began to feel the disgust of my situation coming back to me, and I welcomed it; some of that old, Iona pride was still in me. I had the sudden and visceral need to take a bath, to wash the day from my body and forget it all; forget the shame, forget the ecstasy, forget the way I acted, and forget the way I thought.

“Justina, would you mind cleaning Astrid off?” Mistress said to the woman on her arm, poking her in the ribs, “You look like you could use a meal.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Justina smiled, climbing atop the table and eyeing the filth that covered me with hungry eyes.

“Astrid, this is Justina, my long-lost cousin,” Mistress said, gesturing to the succubus crawling toward me, “she’s going to be like… your roommate. You and she are about the only two people I can really trust right now, so I want you two to get along.”

“She’s a succubus, Mistress,” I said, placing a foot atop the woman’s hair to stop her, trying to keep her skin from touching me, “how will I be of any use to you if I’m the mindless slave of another?”

“Oh, I already broke her in,” Mistress said, hefting her pants with some pride, “I control her seduction now. Hell, I control her everything now, which is why she’s so damn trustworthy. Let her clean you off, and then put your armor back on. We’re going to visit an old friend of mine.”

Willowbud walked back to her gang, leaving me alone with Justina. Grunt, Gronk, Flendian and Hacksaw all laughed and drank and stole leering glances at me, and I had the conflicting urges of either smiling back or bashing their skulls in. Instead of doing either of those things, I cast my eyes on the succubus girl, slowly licking her way up my legs with her forked tongue. To a Valkyrie, a succubus was lower than dirt. They were creatures without morals or codes, creatures who would do anything and everything to feed their bottomless hedonism. And yet, according to the highest authority in the world, the goddess of rock and stone, Justina was my equal. It’s fitting, really, my conscience chastised me, after what you did earlier.

“Well,” I sighed, relaxing on my elbows, “I suppose we should get to know each other.”

“Mmmm.” Justina replied, completely lost in her lustful feeding, her tongue working past my knees, and up my thighs.

“I’m Astrid,” I said, spreading my legs as she crawled between them, “I’m the daughter of Freydis, High Guard of Iona.”

“Mmmm.” Justina replied again, her tongue flicking higher and higher.

“You’re not much for conversation, are you?” I chuckled, breathing a little faster as her forked-tongue began to tickle the outside of my gaping anus, tasting the reservoir of man that leaked from me, “I suppose we have that in common.”

Justina didn’t even bother humming an answer. She placed her small hands on either side of my gape, and spread me gently, letting the seed spill onto her awaiting tongue. She lapped it up like a cat does milk, and then turned her violet eyes up to me, and lowered her lips to my pooling sphincter. Her mouth pressed tenderly to the stretched outline of my anus, and her tongue snaked as deeply as it could go, squirming through my insides and tasting every cum-covered surface that she could reach. I pet her onyx hair and moaned softly as her invading member tickled me with soothing caresses.

“I guess you’re the closest thing I have to a friend now,” I said softly, gently pushing her face deeper between my glutes, “I’ll try to not let my bitterness hurt you. Being the protector of a Creator is the highest honor a Valkyrie can achieve, but our goddess is determined to crush my honor. I suspect if she has her way, I’ll be just like you in no time. Maybe you can show me how to live without shame.”

I tilted my head back and let out a sigh, savoring the feeling of Justina’s tongue. If this was to be the dynamic of our friendship, I guess I wouldn’t mind. I didn’t need idle conversation to pass the time, but a ‘friend’ who would listen to my verbalized thoughts without complaint or comment would be nice. I just wished she’d get back to licking me, because for some reason she’d stopped. Her tongue withdrew, her lips parted, and she breathed fast, shallow breaths on my entrance. I looked down, and saw two pale-blue eyes staring from a face they didn’t belong to.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Justina asked with a voice that was not her own. I didn’t need to think about what to do next. I trapped Justina between my thighs, gripped her horns, and prepared to snap her neck. Mistress’s cousin or not, it was obvious that she was an infiltrator with astral power; it seemed my god’s trust in the girl was misplaced. I was a breath away from ripping her spine apart when a feeling stopped me. A great, irresistible arousal awoke from between my thighs, coursed through my blood and seeped into my brain. Justina had her bare hands pressed to my womanhood, and they were spreading her seduction with full effect. The hormones bled into my mind, surged behind my eyes, and thrummed through every rational corner of my being. I would do anything for her, anything, as long as she sated the hunger that roared within me.

“Master.” I said, my hands falling to my sides, and my thighs spreading with need.

“Holy shit,” Master whispered, “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Please, Master,” I begged, thrusting my hips forward, “please feed from me!”

“Calm down!” Master hissed, looking nervously at the bar where Mistress and her gang were drinking, “I order you to shut the fuck up!”

I did as commanded, but the insatiable need still coursed through me. I twisted and squirmed, rocking on my heels and palms, lifting my pelvis aloft so that it was level with her face, my eyes burning with my desperation.

“I have some questions for you, Astrid,” Master said, “and you’re going to answer them quietly, OK?”

I nodded frantically, hoping beyond hope that if I answered her questions, Master would sate my need.

“Did you just say Willowbud is a Creator?” she asked, her forked-tongue flicking from her mouth, and trailing its twin-points gently along my oozing slit.

“Yes,” I whispered, biting my lip with want, “she is the Earth Former.”

“Bullshit.” Master said, pulling her tongue away.

“It’s true!” I exclaimed in almost a sob, trying to keep quiet like Master said while my desperation sung through my words, “Mistress brought down a hillside, she formed a statue of me from nothing, she ripped the bedrock from beneath the sand, and she re-forged the blade of Iona! Please, Master; please touch me!”

“Holy shit, you’re not lying.” Master whispered, her voice small and fearful.

“No!” I hissed, trying to remind Master of what I had to offer by driving my hips forward, “Valkyries cannot speak untruths! I would never lie to you! Please touch me!”

Master split my slit with forked fingers, and watched as a mixture of seed and nectar flowed freely from my reddened, swollen petals. She crinkled her nose as though it disgusted her, and then tested the concoction with a tentative lick. Her eyes widened, and she licked me again, and again, and again. Soon, her lips were wrapping around my petals, her dilated eyes were rolling into her head, and she was humming a whorish tone as her tongue wriggled wonderfully through my depths. I moaned with her, savoring every little motion of her mouth, gasping as she sucked of my folds, and hissing air through clenched teeth as her tongue caressed every vulnerable spot. She swallowed continuously, as though she were drinking from a fountain, and then she pulled away, her pupils shrinking and her eyes refocusing.

“Holy fuck,” Master said, licking her lips, “cum is like crack to Justina’s body.”

“I have more!” I said, smiling adoringly and spreading my asshole for her, “Please, take all that you can!”

“Tell me about Corruption.” Master said, sliding her tongue down my taint and reentering my gaping rim.

“She’s an astral being, a Sentient-”

“I know what she is,” Master interrupted, “tell me about her and Willowbud. In fact, tell me everything about Willowbud.”

I started from the beginning, telling Master about how I first met Mistress, how I’d made love to her, how she’d been so kind and humble. Then I told her about Corruption, how Mistress had saved me from her, how Mistress had lost her battle with the Sentient, and how I’d pledged my life to saving Mistress from Corruption. All the while, Master watched me with her pale blue eyes and ate from my holes, licking every drop of man left within me.

“Astrid,” Master finally said, slithering her tongue from my asshole, “I think I might be able to help you with Corruption. I’m saying this to you now, so that once I release you from my-”

“No!” I exclaimed, “Please don’t let me go!”

“No more fucking talking!” Master hissed, looking nervously at the bar. She turned her eyes back on me when she confirmed they hadn’t noticed my outburst, “I’m saying this to you now, so that once I release you, you don’t try to break my neck. We’re on the same side. I can’t tell you why, but just know, we’re on the same side.”

Master studied me with a discerning glare, and then said, “I release you from my service.” Rationality found purchase in my mind as the unquenchable arousal drifted from me. I felt exhausted, completely drained, and I fell back onto my elbows and stared weakly at the blue-eyed Not-Justina.

“What are you?” I whispered fearfully, “And why should I trust you?”

“My name’s Angela,” Angela replied, resting her chin on my pelvis, “and letting you go should be enough for you to trust me.”

“It’s not,” I said, “you couldn’t keep me as a slave for long before Mistress noticed; you had to let me go.”

“I could have made you kill yourself,” Angela replied, “Willowbud would’ve believed me if I told her you cracked. All those precious oaths you’ve broken…”

That was painfully true. I winced at her words, but they did convince me.

“Ok, Angela,” I said, “I’m willing to play along for now. Tell me how you think you can help Mistress with Corruption.”

“I don’t know yet,” Angela said, looking slightly flustered, “I can’t see Corruption anymore, but when I did, it was like… it was like she was attracted to me, but not in a sexual way. She kept asking ‘what are you’ over and over again. She grabbed my hand-”

“She touched you?!” I gasped, “And nothing happened?”

“Well, it felt kind of nice,” Angela replied, nodding her head conciliatorily, “but that was about it. When I wouldn’t go with her, she stepped out of Willowbud’s body, and that’s when I realized their relationship was less than consensual. Corruption had this look on her face like she’d just locked herself out of her own house, while Willowbud (who was basically anally raping her cousin at that point) got this look of… confused-horror, I guess I’d call it. Anyway, Corruption jumped back into Willowbud and disappeared, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“I think she appears to you when Mistress is doing something she wouldn’t otherwise do without Corruption,” I said, nodding to myself, “like enslaving her own cousin.” I looked somberly down at Angela, “She’s a good person, Angela; she’s just really damaged. If you can get Corruption out of her, you’ll see for yourself.”

“I make no promises,” Angela said, “but I’ll try when the opportunity presents itself. That probably means the next time your mistress decides she wants to fuck her cousin.”

“I hope that’s soon,” I whispered as Mistress stepped away from the bar, “because she’s dangerous, Angela; really dangerous. We’re in a city of stone, and she’s the Earth Former.”

“I understand that.” Angela said, looking nervously at the approaching god, “I was planning on booking it the moment I got my chance, but I’ll stick around and see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” I whispered, genuinely grateful, feeling hope for the first time since I’d left Tentigo.

Angela gave me a subtle nod, and then receded into Justina’s brain as Mistress stepped onto the table.

“Are you two getting along?” Mistress said, tousling my braided hair like I was a child.

“Yes, Mistress.” Justina and I said in unison, in almost equal levels of subservience. I smiled up at her, my renewed hope brimming from my face. I’ve found a way to save you, Willowbud, I thought, feeling like my old self again, and it only took me one day; that must be a new record.

TERA

The chandelier glowed its steady blue in Gloria’s room, illuminating the bags of foliage we’d harvested in a sapphire hue. The soil would take weeks to clean out, but at least all the birds and insects had since flown out the window. We’d completely forgotten about Alexa, and found her sleeping soundly beneath a layer of tulips. Brandon worked with stiff efficiency, not talking to any of us, seemingly lost in thought. Lost in incestual fantasy, more likely, I sniggered to myself, you dirty, dirty boy, Brandon. Gloria stole more than a few glances at the boy, and I struggled to push down my jealousy. Brandon didn’t belong to any of us, but I found him first, so I felt like I at least had first-call on his dick. At least, until he made Angela a new body.

The chandelier glowed its deep red, marking someone’s blood on the door outside. I turned to Gloria, and she frowned. So, not expecting guests. Great. I reached beneath my cloak, and grasped the daggers strapped to my hips.

“Mother?” a painfully familiar voice called from outside.

ANGELA

Grunt, Gronk, Flendian, and Hacksaw stood at our flanks as Willowbud walked me to Gloria’s door, with Astrid right behind us. I wanted to abandon Justina and rush into the house to tell Brandon what was up, but the enslaved succubus was boiling-over with the desire to tell her master all about him. The enslaved Justina bore very little of her usual sharp intellect, which made her mercifully easy to subdue, but damn, was she tenacious.

There’s a Creator in there, and his name is Brandon, and he is the Life Giver, and his sister is in my head, and her name is Angela, and she is conspiring against you with Astrid, and…

It went on and on like that, each phrase ending with an upward inflection, her tongue trying to form the words to please her new master. Thankfully, she wasn’t always like this. In her enslaved state, Justina’s forward-thinking self was replaced with a dumb bimbo of fleeting, present thought. Most of her inner-monologue went like: I love my master, and I want to suck her cock, and I want to cook her dinner, and I want her in my butt, and I want to buy her flowers, and I want to eat her ass, and I want to get her chocolates… Which, while annoying, was certainly easier to ignore than the train of treason she was spewing now. So, I could not leave Justina, even for a second, and all I could do was hope that Tera and Gloria didn’t come out spoiling for a fight. As far as I could tell, Willowbud didn’t come here with violence in mind, but she was obviously ready for it.

“Go on,” Willowbud said, giving me a possessive squeeze on the ass, “call for mommy.”

“Mother?” I called, taking control of Justina’s mouth, and hoping that my voice sounded enough like hers.

“Get ready, boys,” Grunt growled behind us, “they used to call this bitch ‘Death Kiss,’ and for good reason.”

“She won’t do anything when we got her daughter,” Hacksaw said, “she’ll come quietly.”

She did not come quietly. Justina knew that her mother was proficient in combat, but I don’t think Tera ever demonstrated it, because her daughter was as surprised as I was when she came flying out of that door.

Tera went left, and Gloria went right. Tera was buck-naked, I assumed to maximize the chances of skin-on-skin contact, while Gloria was covered head-to-toe in tight fitting fabric, with only her red eyes revealed beneath a veil. Tera jumped over Grunt’s club swing, rolled beneath Gronk’s axe, sliced Grunt’s calf to the bone with one dagger, and drew a line up Gronk’s arm with the other. Gloria made short work of Flendian; ducking beneath his sword swing, and driving her curved blade through his chest. She took a moment to rip out the dark-elf’s throat with her fangs, and then pulled her blade from his chest in a graceful swing that separated his body along the cut. She did not fare as well against Hacksaw. The vampire was fast, inhumanly fast, but the half-giant could take the punishment. She slashed at him with her wicked-looking blade, and he let the edge cut into his forearm, before grabbing the vampire by her wrist, and throwing her into the wall. Gloria crashed spread-eagle into the bricks, her impact accompanied by the sickening sound of bones cracking, and the deflating whoosh of air blasting from her diaphragm. Tera somehow managed to plant both her feet on the side of Gronk’s head, snapping his face to the side and twisting his thick neck into a coil of tendons. He lurched backward, his jaw swinging freely from its hinge, his steps those of a stumbling drunk. Grunt righted himself on one leg, his other bleeding profusely, and he swung a two-handed arc at Tera’s blindside. The succubus moved as though she’d known it was coming the whole time, and deftly flipped backward over both the strike, and the dwarf. She cut two deep slices into his bald head as she swung over him, and Grunt screamed as his skull was exposed beneath his scalp. Hacksaw charged at the succubus, his shoulders down, his momentum seemingly unstoppable. Tera stood her ground until the last second, and then slid between his legs, hooked her hands on his thighs, and let his momentum carry her into an arc, until she flipped and landed gracefully on his shoulders, bare fingers touching bare neck. Hacksaw stopped abruptly, a smile of stupid bliss stretched across his scarred face.

“Tera,” Willowbud said beside me, sounding of slightly-bored amusement, “can we stop this?”

“I take it you’re Night Eyes?” Tera said, tousling her steed’s matted hair and grinning from her perch, “I’ve got to say, Gloria talked you up to be some kind of badass, and I’m a bit disappointed.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint,” Willowbud grinned, then turned toward Astrid, “you know what to do.”

Astrid strode forward, looking as magnificent as a creature could. Her golden, braided hair draped over her broad shoulders, her wings glinted resplendently in the sun, her sword gleamed from crossguard to tip, and she held the massive weapon with the ease of obvious expertise. The scene looked biblical; the holy angel with her holy sword, facing down a demoness riding atop a disfigured monster. Grunt and Gronk limped to the side, looking up in awe at their champion, waiting with bated breath for the showdown to commence. Astrid stepped forward, positioning her sword, crouching slightly. Hacksaw kicked his heels against the stones, seething like a bull ready to charge, his face contorted in rage at the woman who would dare challenge his master. Astrid stepped to the side, and with two swings of her sword, she decapitated Gronk, and then Grunt. Willowbud burst out laughing as the heads bounced, and rolled ironically, next to another head which already lay on the flagstone by the door.

“There’s some more for your collection, Gloria!” Willowbud laughed at the groaning vampire, who was clutching her broken ribs in the fetal position. Tera looked absolutely dumbstruck; she stood atop her steed with mouth agape, and Hacksaw looked up at her expectantly, awaiting orders that didn’t come. Astrid walked nonchalantly to the half-giant, cut off his legs in one swoop, and then took off his head with the next. Tera tumbled forward and sprawled onto the stones as Hacksaw’s head rolled down the street, and her daggers slid after it. Astrid’s blade rested softly on her throat, and Tera conceded.

“Old Terry’s betrayal got me good and spooked,” Willowbud said, stepping over Hacksaw’s corpse and crouching in front of Tera, “so, I decided some housecleaning was in order. I need people whose trust can’t be bought or bullied; people like you, Tera.”

“You enslaved my daughter,” Tera said, glancing at me, “and you expect me to join you?”

“To be fair,” Willowbud said, sitting cross-legged on the stones, “your daughter tried to enslave me first. I was just returning the favor.”

“You lie.” Tera snarled. Willowbud just shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m not much of a liar,” Willowbud said, resting her bare hand on Tera’s bare breast, and grinning as Tera’s eyes went wide, “I’m a thief, a rapist, a torturer and a killer, but lying’s not in my repertoire.”

“Corruption has you,” Tera said, her voice shaking slightly, “you’re the whore of a Sentient.”

“Ooo, that was a good guess!” Willowbud exclaimed, “Did you figure that out on your own, or did Gloria help you?” Willowbud turned to the incapacitated vampire, “How ya doing over there, Gloria?”

The vampire coughed blood in response, and I took the opportunity to look Tera squarely in the eye, and let my eye color show. She gave me a subtle nod, before Willowbud returned her gaze on her.

“Corruption has me like you have herpes, Tera,” Willowbud said, “she’s there, and she’s never leaving, but you learn to live with it. Sure, I might make a brash decision, sometimes I might kill a lot of people, but they’re still my choices. It’s not like there’s voices in my head. At least, not like what’s going on with your daughter.”

My breath caught in my throat, my hair stood up, and I pissed myself. A chair of stone formed beneath me, butting against the backs of my knees and forcing me to sit. A similar chair of stone smacked into Astrid’s legs, much harder than had happened to me, and she sprawled into it, barely holding on to her sword. Tera’s expression of shock was glued comically to her face as her body was folded forward in another armchair of cobblestone. Willowbud stood between us all, a shit-eating grin reflecting from her tan face.

“Next time you want to have a secret conversation, Angela,” Willowbud laughed at me, “you better move further than across the fucking room; I hear everything!” she tapped her foot against the cobblestone, “I can hear your blood moving in your veins, your shit moving in your guts, and your piss running down your skirt, though, I can see that as well.”

She wheeled on Astrid, who shrank in her chair, cowering before her god.

“And you,” Willowbud snarled, causing Astrid to cower even more, “you traitorous bitch, you conniving cunt, you…” she broke off in a fit of laughter as Astrid grew smaller and smaller in her chair, her eyes wide, her lips trembling, “I’m just fucking with you, Astrid. You only did what you said you’d do, and bravo for finding a sucker willing to help you. I like that kind of initiative.”

Willowbud made a chair for herself, noticeably higher than everyone else’s, and smiled down at the gawking faces of Tera, and myself.

“The Earth Former?” Tera asked, her eyes bulging, her mouth agape, her voice barely a whisper.

“I prefer to be called ‘Night Eyes,’” Willowbud said, and winked at me as she leaned forward, “but since you’re family, Auntie, you can call me ‘Willowbud.’”

I didn’t think Tera’s jaw could go any lower, but I was wrong. Her cheeks went gaunt with her gawking.

“It’s just a day full of surprises, isn’t it?” Willowbud chuckled, “This is why I love this city; you never know what tomorrow may bring. Isn’t that right, Gloria?”

I turned around, and saw Gloria slumped in a chair of her own, looking as confused and horrified as her succubus friend. Her chair shifted forward, sliding as though on ice. Our circle of chairs widened, and made room for the vampire. Willowbud grinned broadly at the woman.

“I bet you’re realizing that you never had a chance against me, Gloria,” Willowbud smiled, “but I appreciated your efforts. Is that Alexa I hear snoring in your house? And who’s that young man behind the door?”

“H-h-h-he’s my dinner, Your Holiness.” Gloria stammered beneath her veil.

“‘You’re Holiness?’” Willowbud exclaimed, “I never figured you for a Creationist. I bet that’s not the usual moniker you have for me, is it?”

“No, Your Holiness,” Gloria muttered, “usually it’s ‘that cunt’ or ‘that fucking bitch.’”

“Well, normally I like to be referred to as ‘boss,’ ‘Night Eyes,’ or occasionally, ‘Mistress,’” Willowbud said, “but in your case, I think ‘Your Holiness’ will do just fine. In the end, there’s really only one god that matters.”

A stone spike shot through the vampire’s chest, spraying blood across Astrid’s face. Gloria’s red eyes widened for a second, and then faded as her head dropped. Tera screamed a blood-curdling tone and made a move to launch at Willowbud, but her hands were bound to the chair before she even got off her ass.

“She tried to kill me, Auntie, so don’t act like I’m the bad guy here,” Willowbud said as Tera thrashed, “you’ve got to be level-headed about these things. How many poor bastards did you kill?”

“She could have helped you!” Tera screamed, “She could have saved you from that thing inside you!”

“First Angela, now Gloria? There’s just saviors on every corner in this city!” Willowbud laughed. I wondered how much longer I had until a spike shot through my back. There was no warning, no indication. It just happened, and that was it. I had a mental flash of rolling wheels, and the sound of a baying oxen as hoofs trampled. I was not ready to experience anything like that again.

“Gloria would have saved me right after she was done breaking the last of my bones,” Willowbud said, “I sent a lot of her blood-children into the dirt. I mean a lot, and not in nice ways. Stakes through the palms and left to burn in the sun was my favorite method, but Hacksaw and Gronk had their ways as well.”

“And you expect me to join your gang after all this?!” Tera cried, “To torture and kill?!”

“No, no, no!” Willowbud laughed, shaking her head, “I’m done with the gangster business. I turned that page of my life just now,” she gestured to Gloria, “my last enemy dead. No, I’m in the entertainment business now; a much seedier, more cutthroat business than drug dealing and whores ever were. I don’t need thugs and brutes anymore; I need stone-cold-killers and foxy broads. You happen to fulfill both those needs.”

“You’re insane,” Tera gasped, her eyes trembling, “you’re a god, a being of immeasurable power, and you want to be a show producer?”

“Fight promoter, actually,” Willowbud grinned, “and I never made any claims on sanity.” She turned to me and gave me another wink, “But you know all about that, don’t you, Justina-slash-Angela? I gotta know; when exactly did you go so crazy that your brain split right in half?”

Angela’s a dead girl, and the Life Giver is in that house, and could you please fuck me, and-

“When I was ten,” I said before Justina could blurt out the truth, “my best friend got run over by an oxen cart, and now she lives in my head.”

“Then you used an astral enchantment to change the eye color,” Willowbud smiled, almost endearingly, “and viola; Angela lives.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to sound as nuts as possible, “that’s just my natural eye color.”

“Your clairvoyant, aren’t you?” Willowbud said, looking closely at me, “You can see astral beings as clear as day, even melded ones.”

“Yes.” I said as Justina screamed the truth in my head. Willowbud leaned forward, took my hand in hers and brought the hand to her mouth. I half-expected her to bite my fingers off, but instead, she kissed it with love and reverence, which was somehow worse.

“You’re as broken as me, Cousin,” she whispered, her black eyes gleaming behind almost-affectionate irises, “cursed with gifts you didn’t ask for, forced into hiding from a world that hates you. You’re not in Towerhead anymore; no one’s going to hurt you with me around.”

“Willowbud,” Tera said, her voice ragged, “please, release my daughter. It’s me you want.”

“It’s both of you,” Willowbud said, her eyes glistening, “my family, my real family. The family that was cast out like I was, the family turned away from the world just for being born.”

“Willowbud,” Tera said, her voice hushed, tears streaking down her cheek, “please.”

“You don’t need to fear me, Tera,” Willowbud said, turning away from me, and leaning toward Tera until their faces were breaths apart, “I would never hurt my family.”

A single tear ran down Willowbud’s cheek as she gazed into her aunt’s glazed eyes. Tera’s wet face was caste in the golden light of dusk, and Willowbud’s was black with the shrieking face of Corruption. The Sentient was writhing as if in agony, tortured by whatever thought had caused Willowbud to cry.

“No,” Willowbud whispered, taking Tera’s trembling chin into her hand, and tilting it until their lips brushed, “family is sacred.”

Their mouths connected. Willowbud ran her hand through Tera’s onyx mane as she sucked gently from her lips, their cheeks growing gaunt in their embrace. Her fingers trailed behind Tera’s ear, caressed back-handedly along the pronounced line of her jaw, and then rested in a gentle clasp about her neck, just above the collar. It was a subtle move, but a threatening one, and Tera melted in it. She couldn’t help it, I suspected, much like Justina couldn’t help her sexual nature, but it was still disappointing to see her give in so easily. Her violet eyes closed, and she tilted her head further back, letting Willowbud’s white hair mingle with her black. Corruption relaxed in her host’s mind and slowly faded from view, the thought that had tortured her no longer present. The nymph finally parted from Tera, whose eyes shown with a mixture of fear, hatred and desire. Willowbud was pleased with the expression. Her demeanor flipped like a switch, and she wiped away the single tear that had rolled down her cheek, and curled her lips in her usual grin. Tera’s binds popped free, and the chairs we all sat in started to melt back into the street. Gloria’s body shifted dumbly until it rested flat on the cobblestones, the spike shrinking from her wound until the hole in her chest was empty.

“No witnesses, only carcasses, eh, Death Kiss?” Willowbud laughed, “We can’t have the whole city wondering how the street turned into a living room, can we?”

“I guess not.” Tera said numbly, in complete disbelief of her situation.

“Alright!” Willowbud exclaimed happily, taking Astrid by the hand and turning on her heel, “Now let’s all go back to The Screeching Siren, have some brews, and reminisce about old times in Arbortus. We can talk about how much of a cunt Flora Autumnsong is until the taps run dry.”

Willowbud actually skipped away with Astrid in tow, the pair looking like an excited child and her frustrated mother. I looked at Tera, and she looked at me, seeing my blue eyes shining from her enslaved daughter’s face. I glanced at the door to Gloria’s house, and she nodded. Then, we followed the skipping god back to The Screeching Siren, carrying the vain consolation between us that despite everything, Brandon was still safe. Still safe, as long as I stayed inside Justina and kept her mouth shut. Still safe, for as long as I could endure the Earth Former’s idea of fun.

BRANDON

Alexa was snoring like nothing was happening, making it incredibly difficult to listen through the door. Why Gloria didn’t put a peephole in the fucking thing was a mystery, and it took all my will not to open it a crack and see what was going on. Early on, there was fighting, screaming and yelling, but that had stopped. Then, there was a lot of talking, some laughter from a voice I didn’t recognize, and a screech so shrill it could’ve come from a stuck pig. Then, more talking, footsteps, and nothing. I waited for what felt like an eternity, and nothing continued to happen. I took a deep breath, steeled my courage, and opened the door.

The sun was setting between the buildings, casting the world in a glaring, orange hue punctuated by sharp and sudden shadows. Gloria lay in the middle of the street, her arms splayed to her sides, blood pooling from a massive wound in her chest. I stepped cautiously forward, looking at the headless bodies that littered the roadway, trying to keep my stomach from churning. I expected killers to pop out at any moment, beasts with human hides as clothing and skulls as helmets, but nothing happened. Tera and Justina weren’t among the dead, which was good, but I doubted their lives were in safe hands. Whoever this Night Eyes was, she clearly didn’t fuck around. I knelt over Gloria’s body, closed my eyes, and touched my thumb to her brow. She was technically dead, her heart was an exploded piece of pulp, but the faint vestiges of life still thrummed in her mind. Time to make like a god, and perform a miracle.

Blue light radiated from my palm, and spread into Gloria. It laced through her skin in winding tendrils, flitting this way and that, fracturing randomly like cracks in the ice. The light pooled around her chest wound, seeped into the bloody cavern, and began to move pieces of her back together. The tattered remains of her heart righted themselves, and then melded, each chamber forming and taking shape until the entire organ stood perfectly in her chest. A pulse of blue power shot along the arteries that held it in place, and the heart contracted violently, before beating with life. Gloria’s eyes flashed open, she gasped in a deep breath, and she screamed. The bones, muscles, sinew and skin stitched back into place, and the pain receded from Gloria’s wail as the last strip of flesh was melded seamlessly back together. She coughed up a splatter of blood through her veil, and I eased her upright as she hacked the remnants of her mortal wound onto the cobblestones. She wiped her lips, her breathing shallow and frantic, her eyes wide. She looked at her hands as if they were foreign to her, touched her face as if it had never been there before, breathed deliberate, deep breaths as if the action was the only thing that mattered in the world. She looked at me with panicked, disbelieving eyes, her mouth working to find words that wouldn’t come. Her lips trembled, and her crimson eyes welled.

“You’re alive,” I said, pulling her close and letting her vent into my chest, “and you have a lot of explaining to do.”

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Chapter Five: Arbortus

LUCILLA

The alarm bells tolled from every tower in the palace, the yells of men and the clanking of armor sounded from every corridor and stairwell. I kept my cloak wrapped tightly around me, trying to conceal the glowing patterns that laced my skin from toe to chin. I had a fortune in gold and jewelry tucked away in my sack, but that would hardly do me any good if the royal guard stopped us. I grabbed Julia by the wrist and pulled her from the corridor as a squad of heavily-armored knights turned the corner. We kept our backs pressed to the walls of the alcove while the men clanked past us, rushing toward the room that had exploded from the top of the tower.

“They’re not even looking for us!” Julia hissed, “They don’t know what happened, but they will soon, and we better be out of the palace before then!”

“If the royal guard sees me, they’ll detain me for my own safety,” I said breathing heavily, “and if Father sees what I’ve become… let’s not think about that.”

I poked my head from the alcove, looking left and then right.

“Julia.” I whispered.

“What?” Julia hissed.

“This is really fun,” I grinned at her, “we’re playing hide-and-seek.”

“Accept if you get caught, you’re not ‘it,’” Julia hissed, “you’re dead.”

“That just makes it better!” I giggled, pulling Julia out of the alcove and dragging her down the hallway. I’d always engaged in thrill-seeking behavior, but this was worrisome. Julia would have to play therapist for me once we were in a safe place, so that we could determine the root-cause of my… you’re still thinking of her as your priestess, I scolded myself as we rounded a corner, she’s a fucking god, not your servant! My excited grin stayed glued to my face as we weaved our way down steps, tiptoed through halls, ducked into rooms, and clambered into closets. There were several times when Julia had to plaster her palm over my mouth to keep my giggles from giving us away, and the wrathful look she gave me only made it worse. If this was my flight-or-fight response, we’d be solidly fucked if we actually got caught.

“What in the Sweet Mother is wrong with you?!” Julia growled as I guided her down the last flight of steps of the upper floors.

“I’m sorry,” I giggled as we rounded the stairwell to the courtyard, “it’s just so much fucking fu-”

Julia practically tackled me into a closet. Heavy bootsteps thundered past us, followed by the soft patter of slippers on the stones. Two mages walked by, their bald heads gleaming in the torch light, the spot between their brows shining with their melded astral power. They stopped in front of the open doorway, and I silently prayed that the darkness of the closet would keep us hidden in the shadows. I pulled my cloak up around my neck to conceal the glowing patterns on my skin as Julia’s palm covered my mouth, anticipating another bout of foolish mirth.

“Did they recover Princess Lucilla’s body?” one of the mages asked.

“Chances are it was burnt to ash,” the other mage said, “an explosion powerful enough to rip a hole in the tower wall would disintegrate a person.”

“And her priestess?” the first mage asked.

“Also, most likely dead.” The second mage said, “How did we miss an astral bomb of such yield? How could an assassin have even gotten it in the palace? It would have to be the size of a horse to produce that kind of blast!”

“I don’t know,” the first mage grimaced, “but you can bet the emperor is going to ream us gaping for this oversight.”

“One of the maids said she heard sounds of lust when she was emptying the chamber pots,” the second mage said, “did the guards say if a man came into her suite?”

“No,” the first mage said, “only her and the priestess. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Princess Lucilla chose a nun who was loose with her vows.”

Julia pressed her palm into an air-tight seal over my mouth as uncontrollable laughter raged against my clenched teeth. I could practically feel the fire thrumming beneath her skin as she seethed silently, and I had to hold her power within me to keep it from bursting alight on her flesh. This was a woman so devout, she denied her very godhood until she could no longer, and this mage had the audacity to question her piety? It was fucking hilarious. The sound of running feet echoed through the hall, prompting the two mages to turn as the sound grew louder. A third mage shot into view, breathing hard and red-faced.

“Dratus, Backtius,” the third mage gasped, holding my hand-mirror aloft, “look at this!”

The other two mages studied it for a moment, perplexed expressions on their faces.

“Do you see the burnt patterns on the frame?” the third mage asked excitedly, “Those were on every surface of the princess’s room! The Heat Bringer killed Princess Lucilla!”

“Impossible!” the mage called Dratus said, “All seven-hundred subjects are locked away and accounted for in the keep; none of them could have escaped without setting off dozens of alarms!”

“Telavia was right all along,” the mage called Backtius gasped, “we never had the one.”

“Princess Lucilla said as much to her father earlier today,” the third mage said, his voice edging with excitement, “she must have found something the emperor didn’t, and the Heat Bringer killed her before she could spread the information!”

“Her priestess,” Backtius muttered, “she was a bright-elf, wasn’t she? Not of high blood, but certainly around the right age…. raise the alarm and sequester all bright elves in the palace! Inform the emperor that the Heat Bringer is here, and get him to safety!”

The mages ran off, and Julia tentatively released her grip on my mouth.

“Looks like hide-and-seek is over,” she said as we stepped out of the closet, “now we just run.”

We dashed through the courtyard, raced along the inner-wall and darted down the stairs to the bottom levels. The top floors of the palace tower were reserved for royalty, so subterfuge was a necessity when escaping them, but the bottom levels were packed with common folk, and our plain cloaks allowed us to blend right in. Troops of guards ran in opposition to us, ignoring us as they raced up the steps we’d just climbed down. Julia and I burst into the main courtyard, and the gate was blessedly still open. We were a mere hundred paces from freedom when the voice yelled.

“You two, stop!” it was a commanding, baritone growl that sent our heels skidding to a halt. I turned around to see a mage leading a platoon of guards right for us. I wheeled around to make a run for the gates, but another platoon had barred our exit.

“Julia,” I hissed as the men encircled us, “burn them!”

“Kill them?! Julia gasped, “That’s a mortal sin!”

“Holy shit,” I growled, “Julia, do you know what will happen if my father captures you?”

“Maybe we can talk our way out of it.” Julia whispered as the men surrounded us. As if in response, the men drew their swords, and the mage’s forehead began glowing from his astral meld.

“Take off your hoods,” the mage said, “put your hands in the air, and get on your knees.”

“Julia…” I said through clenched teeth, begging the girl. I felt the power pulsing in my veins, I could faintly see the energy glowing through my cloak; patterns of white shining through the fabric. I felt Julia growing warmer against me, drawing her power from me, preparing to set alight and announce her presence to the world. The fire died, the heat faded, and the light dwindled beneath my cloak.

“I can’t,” Julia whimpered, her posture slouching in defeat, “I’m sorry, Lucilla.”

I inhaled a ragged breath, feeling my heart sinking beneath my lungs. The swords gleamed around us, pointing their sharp edges at our bodies, their bearers watching us behind hard, merciless eyes. Julia put her arms around me, and I put my arms around her, the excitement I felt earlier no longer thrumming within me; only terror.

“Gatison!” an even more commanding voice yelled, causing the mage to turn sharply around, “What in the blue fuck are you doing?”

A man dressed in resplendent officer’s armor stepped into view, his masked helm making him look as intimidating as his voice sounded. Another man wearing similar armor strode alongside him, his faceplate also down, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m-” the mage started, but never finished.

“You’re wasting valuable time and resources!” the officer yelled, “Harassing common folk when you and your men should be on the top floors with everyone else! Do you know what’s at stake here?!”

“These two were running for the gate!” the mage yelled indignantly, “They were-”

“Get your bony ass up those stairs Gatison, or so help me, I will be wearing it as a boot!”

The mage did not need further encouragement. He gave Julia and I a suspicious glower, and then ordered his men to follow him up the stairs, where the supposed Heat Bringer was undoubtedly lurking. I didn’t notice I’d been holding my breath, and I let out a deflating exhale, feeling the dread wash from my body. Right; that was certainly enough excitement for one day. I took Julia by the hand, and-

“You know,” the commanding voice said in my ear as strong hands grabbed hold of my shoulders, “when you’re running for your life, Princess, stopping when someone says ‘stop’ is about the dumbest fucking thing you can do.”

“Julia!” I screamed before a gauntleted hand clasped over my mouth.

“No one is getting outside of this palace unless someone with rank bullies their way out.” The officer growled, “The gates may be open, but there’s a wall of guards on the other side. Now, you might outrank me, Your Grace, but you’re also supposed to be dead.”

I looked out of the corner of my eye, and saw Julia nodding as the other officer whispered something in her ear. He seemed much gentler than my captor; holding Julia’s arm softly, resting his other hand comfortingly on her back, guiding her forward with respect. His faceplate was up now, and I recognized the portrait behind it: Malek, one of my own guards. I turned to my left, and saw Drask’s fearsome face staring back at me from his lifted mask.

“You’re not a fucking officer!” I hissed, “You’re a royal guard! And just what the fuck are you doing anyway?!”

“We’re neither, actually,” Drask grinned, “but it’s amazing what you can get away with if you have the right outfit and act like you belong. And what we’re doing, Your Grace, is getting you and the goddess as far from your father as possible.”

“Where are you taking us?” I asked as we passed through the gates, and neared a well-guarded checkpoint.

“Does it matter?” Drask asked as we approached the checkpoint, “I know you don’t have reason to trust me, but you’re just going to have to. Either that, or burn your way out of here.”

The first option seemed like the preferable one, so I kept my mouth shut, my hood up, and my eyes down as Drask bullied, threatened and intimidated our way past each checkpoint, and out of the palace.

JULIA

Drask and Malek had clearly smuggled people before. Lucilla and I were whisked from the checkpoint, and briskly shoved into the back of a carriage. Lucilla couldn’t hide her contempt as she regarded the simplistic nature of the carriage, though I suspected she would have appreciated it more if she’d known what our next mode of transportation would be. Roadblocks had been set up on all streets, and every carriage was being searched down to the rivets. Malek quickly ushered us out of the back of the carriage, and into a fish cart. Lucilla opened her mouth to spew a paragraph of royal indignation, but I pushed her into the smelly pile before she could, and then dove in after. Lucilla squawked her disgust as Malek rolled us away from the roadblocks leading out of the city, and along the pier. We were given half a breath’s warning before he tipped us over the edge, sending us plunging into the murky depths of the Terondia Bay. Drask hauled us into the canoe, sputtering and cursing, our clothes soaked to the bone, our hair covered in scales and slime, before Malek jumped in, and paddled us down the river. After Lucilla had given everyone a resounding piece of her mind, we sat in silence, the only sound being the soothing drip and splash of wooden paddle meeting still water. About an hour later, Drask pulled us onto the bank of the river, and then ran into the woods to scout. Malek handed us dry clothes from his sack, and then turned his back as we bathed in the river, dried ourselves off, and clothed ourselves in overlarge tunics. Malek set out some logs for us to sit on, and then built a fire ring, set the kindling and sticks, and looked at me expectantly. I’d never actually used my powers for… anything, so when I raised my hand to ignite the wood, I might’ve overcompensated. Malek’s hair was blown back and singed, his face was blackened with soot, and tendrils of flame licked at his coat, but he didn’t mind in the least. He whooped and applauded fervently, and I bowed, my cheeks blushing furiously, and sat next to Lucilla.

“You,” Malek said to Lucilla, his voice thickly accented, “you are bind?”

“What?” Lucilla asked.

“You are bind.” Malek said, gesturing to the intricate patterns of swooshing flame that thrummed alight over Lucilla’s entire body.

“Yes, Malek,” Lucilla smirked, adding a fake accent to her words, “I am bind. Now I get why you didn’t speak to me yesterday; you don’t speak common tongue, do you? Where in the world is an elf born not speaking the common tongue?”

“The Gratoran Desert,” Drask said as he stepped from the forest, holding a pair of rabbits in his hand, “our mother is whiter than you, Your Grace, but our dad is a big, green bastard.”

“Big,” Malek grinned, flexing his muscles, “bastard,” he said, making a stabbing motion with his hand.

“What my articulate younger brother is trying to say,” Drask said, pulling out his knife and deftly skinning the rabbit, “is that our father is an orc warlord. Those orcs your father used came from our clan, and we came with them.”

“Find god,” Malek said, gesturing appraisingly to me, an endearing smile on his face, “bring home.”

“That’s our mission,” Drask said to me, spitting the rabbits and putting them over the fire, “but it’s up to you if you want to come back with us.”

“I think we’ll pass,” Lucilla said for me, chuckling contemptuously, “thanks though.”

“I don’t remember asking you a damn thing, Princess.” Drask said sharply, causing Lucilla to start upright. She was not used to being talked to like that, especially from a dark-elf. Knowing Lucilla, that probably meant this night was going to get ugly.

“Why would I go to the orc empire?” I asked, “What is there for me?”

“Safety, for one,” Drask said, turning the spits over, “it’s as far from Terondia as you can get, and the elves wouldn’t think to look for you west of The Gratoran Wall. Secondly, most orcs are Creationists, seeing as how two of the last three Creators were orcs, so they know how to treat divinity. Thirdly, you’d get to do some good, and I know how much nuns love doing good.”

Actually, what I wanted to do was find a remote monastery atop some mountain, and spend the rest of my days in humble service to The Holy Mother, but I knew that dream was dead. Lucilla’s father would identify me, the church would excommunicate me, and my title as ‘Sister’ would be stripped from me. I wouldn’t be allowed within ten miles of a holy site for the rest of my life, but I could still serve god in other ways. Perhaps I could turn my curse into a blessing, and do the work of The Holy Mother outside of her church. I could perform my blasphemous miracles, give their credit to the true god, and spread the message of The Holy Mother to heretics all across the land. I could bring a nation of heathen orcs into the light of truth. Yes, that would be my purpose.

“What kind of good?” I asked, smiling apologetically at Lucilla’s annoyed frown.

“Do you know about the underground city of Droktinar?” Drask asked, testing the meat of the rabbit with his knife.

“Yes,” I replied, “it was a city carved entirely from the bedrock, a thousand feet deep at some points. It was the joint project of Droktin and Arbitrus Gen, before they became enemies.”

“That’s right,” Drask said, quartering the rabbit, “the whole thing was supposed to be powered by a massive furnace, but Arbitrus never lit it, so a city fit to house half a million people has been lying abandoned beneath the desert, just waiting for a Heat Bringer to come along, and start it up.”

“Why?” Lucilla asked, “Who gives a shit about an abandoned city underground? It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“It gets hot enough to fry eggs on stone during the day, and cold enough to freeze water during the night.” Drask replied, giving Lucilla an annoyed look, “The Gratoran Desert is a hostile place, but beneath the surface, it’s temperate and comfortable. The orc empire is a fractured mess of warring tribes fighting over shitholes in the sand. If the furnace of Droktinar is ignited, then my people won’t need to kill each other over a meagre oasis. You’ll have revitalized an empire overnight, and we’d be eternally grateful.”

“Your people?” Lucilla scoffed, “Drask, you’re an elf, just like the rest of us. You can’t possibly believe reestablishing the orc empire is good for anyone.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Drask said, “and I’ve lived my whole life in the Gratoran Desert, so don’t assume my heritage.”

“When Droktin opened his pass,” Lucilla said, pointing accusingly at Drask, “it took the might of the dwarven, human and elven nations to repel the flood that charged through it. There’s a reason ‘your’ nation is a scattering of tribes now. They had their chance at being a real empire, and they blew it.”

“Victors always write history, don’t they?” Drask laughed humorlessly, “I guess they chose to ignore the part where Arbitrus Gen melted Hektinar, killing a quarter million innocent people and destroying the heart of the empire! An atrocity none of your nations even acknowledge!”

“That never happened,” Lucilla laughed, “that’s a conspiracy theory propagated by downtrodden orcs to justify banditry, and the fact that their too lazy to get a job.”

“Oh, it never happened?!” Drask seethed, “My people are lazy, are they? Well, you certainly enjoyed the kind of laziness my people could provide you, didn’t you Princess?!”

“Orcs make for an exciting lay,” Lucilla sneered, “they’re basically animals anyway, so it shouldn’t be a surprise they fuck like them. Why you shit-blooded half breeds insist on associating with them is beyond me.”

“Lucilla!” I gasped, but it was already out. Lucilla was taking the low road, and she was going to ride its racist path right into the dirt.

“There it is,” Drask grinned, holding his hands aloft, “I was waiting for the high-blooded bitch to come shining through, and she did, like fucking clockwork. If you weren’t bound to a god, I would take your pale-skin ass behind a tree and-”

“And what?” Lucilla grinned, “Do what you people do?”

Lucilla and Drask went back and forth, hurling increasingly racist insults at each other as they both abandoned any pretense of political debate, and went right to a pissing contest. I sighed, reached into the fire, grabbed a kabab, and gave half of it to Malek. I nibbled daintily as he ate sloppily, and we sat together and watched the argument get louder and louder.

“Why fighting?” Malek asked in broken common tongue.

“I don’t know about Drask,” I whispered back, “but Lucilla doesn’t really care about Droktinar; she’s just mad that she won’t be sleeping in fine silk tonight. She’s used to a certain lifestyle, and doesn’t do well when it’s taken from her, so she’s making everyone else miserable. That’s… just what she does.”

“Not nice.” Malek grunted, “No good.”

“Oh, she’s a good person,” I sighed, “but once she gets in one of these moods, there’s no getting her out of it.”

“Why love her?” Malek asked.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, “I just do.”

I watched Lucilla’s body language change with each visceral comment; her back arching slightly, her chest jutting forward, the lacing on her tunic mysteriously becoming looser, her sneering grin growing wider. I’d seen this play a hundred times with Lucilla, in bars and ballrooms across her estate; I knew how this story ended. I knew when I bound with Lucilla, that there was no way I was keeping her monogamous, but I’d vainly assumed that we’d have a nice honeymoon period before she went searching for variety.

“Your brother and my lover are going to have sex.” I said to Malek.

“Sex?” Malek asked, making a motion with his forefinger and encircled thumb.

“Yup,” I sighed, resting my chin in my hands and my elbows on my knees, “Lucilla’s already decided it’s going to happen. It’s just a matter of time now.”

LUCILLA

I tossed and turned in my tent, feeling every stone and uneven patch of grass digging into my back. Nobody sane would choose to camp, but I guessed I hadn’t been making rational decisions lately. Julia didn’t seem to mind in the least. She was sleeping soundly; her chest rising and falling evenly, her breaths punctuated by cute, little whistles of contentment. Bitch. I love you babe, but your ability to fall asleep on a dime is maddening. It didn’t help that my bout with Drask had me frazzled and hot-blooded, spoiling for a fight. Or something else.

“Julia,” I whispered, poking her shoulder, “Julia, wake up.”

“What?” Julia mumbled sleepily, her emerald eyes gleaming in the faint light that radiated from my skin.

“I’m horny,” I whispered, “do you want to fool around?”

“It’s…” Julia groaned as she checked her pocket watch, “three-thirty in the morning. Masturbate.”

“I thought you said it’s a sin to engage in self-pleasure,” I whispered, peeling off her blanket, “I wouldn’t want to be a sinner now, would I?”

“Lesbianism is a much worse sin,” Julia mumbled, scooching her body down as the blanket pulled lower, trying to stay under the covers, “and please don’t point out the hypocrisy of that statement; it’s too early in the morning for a crisis of faith.”

“So…” I whispered, trying to find a tactful way to say what I wanted, “by your reasoning, I should find a man to relieve me of my womanly desires.”

“We’ve been bound for less than a day, and you’re already going to cheat on me.” Julia grumbled sleepily.

“It’s not cheating if you give me permission.” I whispered hopefully. There was a tentative pause where Julia seemed to mull-over the idea.

“No,” Julia finally said, “you could use an exercise in self-control.”

You little bitch!

“Julia,” I whispered, pressing my naked chest against her naked back, “I’m going to stick my finger in your butt now.”

I spread Julia’s pale, supple ass with one hand, wetted the index finger of the other with my mouth, and pushed it knuckle-deep into the tight aperture between the redhead’s cheeks. Julia’s body tensed, her anus clenched around me, her head shot backward, and the entire tent disintegrated in a blast of white heat.

“Oh, Good Mother!” Julia growled, “Sweet heavens, god darn you, you fricken, stupid…”

“Julia,” I giggled, “are you mad? It’s hard to tell.”

“Fuck you, Lucilla!” Julia yelled, “The world doesn’t revolve around you and the needs of your fucking cunt!”

“Oooo,” I sniggered as I twisted my finger into her rectum, smiling as her thighs begin to shiver at the feeling, “that wasn’t very pious language. I think I’ll have to punish you for your sinful mouth.”

“Lucilla, you fu-” I cutoff Julia’s objections with a pressing palm, and brought her body deeper to mine, letting her feel the soft curves and bows of my form melding into hers, letting our warmth mingle in our vulnerable places. Julia, despite her iron-will and piety, was a sexual novice, which meant she was sexually easy. I pressed my lips to the curve of her throat, and sucked gently as my finger twisted and drove, slowly opening the virgin god’s anus, slowly melting her equanimity and will to fight me. Soon, the muffled yells she was delivering to my palm became muffled moans, the sharp look in her emerald eyes became a half-lidded gaze of needful lust, and her hips started sensually grinding into my pelvis, betraying the last of her defiance.

“You, my devout, holy love,” I whispered into her ear, “are a little, anal slut.”

“Goddamn you, Lucilla.” Julia moaned.

“Who would have thought,” I breathed heavily, “that beneath all those robes, and all that modesty,” I added another finger and curled, causing her entire back to spasm, “was a perverted little bitch begging for it in the wrong hole?”

“Fuck you.” Julia moaned again, the sound dragging out through gritted teeth.

“You never swear,” I smiled, inhaling her scent, smelling the intoxicating aroma of her arousal, “but the moment you get something pushed into your little asshole, all those words you’re not supposed to say come spilling out. It’s like I’ve found the key that unlocks the whore you keep trapped deep, deep down.”

“You’re the devil,” Julia muttered, her breathing heavy, her voice wavering, “you are evil sent from hell to put temptation in my path.”

“Maybe I am,” I laughed with a seductive fry, squishing my breasts against her hunching shoulders and twisting my fingers to the bottom knuckles, “maybe you’re my fallen angel, losing herself to my corrupting temptation, or maybe you’re just a disgusting cunt who’s good at pretending.”

“Hey!” Julia exclaimed, her tone pausing the seduction for a moment.

“What?” I whispered back, “I’m sorry, was that too far? I got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

“A little…” Julia mumbled.

“We can just cuddle if you want,” I said, kissing her neck, “while I get you off with my hands.”

“No…” Julia trailed off, looking over a pale shoulder, one emerald eye smiling at me, the other concealed behind a curtain of crimson hair, “I… I like it.”

“You like what?” I whispered, tickling her pointed ear with my lips.

“I like it when you degrade me,” she smiled slyly, “I don’t know why, but it turns me on.”

“I know why,” I smirked, turning the seduction back on with a penetrating twist of my fingers, “it’s because of your religious guilt. They taught you that anything that feels good is bad, so you crave the punishment with your pleasure.”

“No…” Julia moaned, getting herself back into character.

“Yes,” I hissed in her ear, adding a third finger, feeling Julia’s virgin rim stretching against my knuckles, “all those years they taught you about the sins of the flesh, and all those years you guiltily fantasized about them.”

“That’s not true.” Julia whimpered, grinding her supple ass against the flat of my palm, pressing the back of my hand into my own crotch as our bodies melded.

“But it is,” I moaned, snaking my other hand over her pale thigh, and tracing its fingers teasingly down the line of her pelvis, “and those fantasies only grew darker the more devout you became. The repression of your sexuality twisted you into a masochistic freak.”

“That can’t be…” Julia moaned pathetically as she raised her thigh, letting my caressing hand travel between her legs.

“Now you need the degradation with your lust,” I gasped, pushing three fingers into her virgin slit, causing Julia to wine a pleading moan as her pussy was penetrated by another for the first time in her life, “you need someone to tell you that what you’re doing is wrong, someone to tell you that you’re a depraved sinner. You think it’s because you need to atone during the act, but I know the real reason.”

“What?” Julia cried, shifting wantonly between my penetrating hands, trapped between the invasion of her two holes, assaulted relentlessly from both sides.

“The real reason you like being called a whore,” I whispered into her ear as I added the fourth finger to her ass, causing her entire back to wrench in concavity, “is because you secretly want to be one.”

“No!” Julia moaned a desperate, carnal moan. She was squirming between my hands; her legs spread and trembling, her hips writhing in pathetic reaction to stimulus from one hole, then the other, grinding sporadically from sensations that overwhelmed her, captivated by the violation of her sanctity, a slave to the prodding and caressing of my invading hands. I searched within her, I found her weak spots, and I exploited them mercilessly; pushing my fingers against them, encircling them teasingly, squishing the tender reaches of flesh between pressing digits and forcing spasms deep into her erogeneity.

“Yes, Julia,” I gasped, reveling in the control she was giving me, “you looked down on girls like me, calling us sinners and harlots, but deep down, you were always more of a whore than any of us. You wished you could dress like a slut and take it up the skirt behind a bar, you wished you could suck dick until your stomach was full, you wished you could be passed around from man to man until you were overflowing.”

“Yes,” Julia whispered, her voice ragged with pleasure, her body teeming with euphoria, “yesssss…”

“You want to be a little slut, don’t you?” I smirked, adding the thumb to her anal penetration, feeling her rim expand tortuously around my sinking fist.

“Yes!” Julia sobbed, pushing her ass backward, forcing her sphincter to stretch to an agonizing, white circle about my bottom knuckles.

“Do you want me to teach you?” I asked, my voice as soothing as it was seductive, my fingers as tortuous as they were pleasing.

“Yes!” Julia gasped, hooking her ankle behind my calf, trying to give me as much room as I needed to violate her, “Teach me how to be a slut!”

“I can teach you, Sister Julia,” I growled, pushing my entire fist into her ass, marveling as her rim hugged around my wrist like a pulsing, fleshy cuff, “but your desires are too twisted, too depraved to be some bimbo; you’re going to be a debased slave, a disgusting cunt who gets off to the vilest of acts, who revels in the filth like the sinning whore you are.”

“Yes! Make me your disgusting whore!” Julia growled with me, her voice dripping with avarice, her body lurching violently back and forth between my penetrating hands, trying to take both at the same time, trying to suck my invasion deeper into her virgin depravity. I rolled her onto her knees, and she pushed her ass in the air like a girl with experience, giving me a view of the debauched state of her pristine lewdness. Her anus was twitching around my wrist, her pussy was leaking down my forearm, her taint was a taught ribbon of pale flesh that glistened with her lecherous secretion. I stood behind her like a man preparing to thrust, and I violated my friend, my god and my lover like the whore she wanted to be. Julia’s pale back curved with each visceral push of my hands, indenting along the lithe rises of her muscles, casting shadows that revealed the tensed nature of her feminine arch. Her shoulder blades pinched together, her arms flexed to hold her upright, and her crimson mane of luxurious waves bowed with her curving neck, her mouth panting the exaltation of her lust into the ground.

“Lucilla,” she cried, “I’m coming!”

I pushed the last fingers of my vaginally-penetrating hand into the redhead, and watched in perverse fascination as both my wrists disappeared. Her pelvic floor indented with the clenching of her lewd muscles, pulling my hands deeper inside her. I flattened my palms against the twitching membrane that divided her, and pressed along it, curving my fingertips and squishing the delicate flesh between my hands. Julia’s bent arms trembled, and then gave out as the god screamed a carnal tone of masochistic delight. Half her face planted into the grass, and she reached behind herself in whorish acceptance, grabbed the succulent fat of her pale glutes, and spread them wide. Her asshole was gaping around my fist; the white outline of her rim turning into the pink sheath of her sphincter turning into the red flesh of her rectum. Her pussy was a splay of reddened petals frothing with the nectar of her perversion, opening to reveal the tensed oval of her gripping lips, sucking my wrist into her. Both entrances clenched around me as Julia writhed on the ground, shifting in needful reaction, her breasts sliding into the dirt, her weight rocking about her bent knees. I thrusted my invading hands deeper, relishing the twitching nature of her taught insides as they gave way to me, savoring the shrill pitch of my lover’s whorish call as she begged for more. I pulled my hands out, watching as her holes contracted in the way only a virgin’s can, and then pushed all the way in again, and again, and again; giving her insides a moment of reprieve before I mercilessly violated them, stretching her holes with each forceful pass, testing the elasticity of her chastity.

She sobbed, begged and cried into the dirt, her voice high and desperate, trembling with the same cadence as the twitching of her churning insides. The arch of her back suddenly deepened, her ass shot backward, consuming my forearms, her pelvis dropped, and she came. She came in a toe-curling, spine-wrenching display of depravity, her external reaction almost as dramatic as the vicious contractions of her internal euphoria. I held in the flame that would have ignited on her flesh, and the intricate patterns that covered my naked body shined in white brilliance, bathing the world around us in the pale light of our passion. I laughed as she screamed, and pushed my hands deeper, ratcheting the intensity of her ascension as the final bouts of her pleasure wracked her form. The cathartic expiration of heavy breaths marked the release of her climax, and Julia’s cunt soaked my fist and the soil beneath her legs as her pulse decelerated. The light on my flesh faded until the patterns glowed dimly once more, dwindling and brightening with the steady beat of my heart. I pulled out of Julia as she relaxed into an exhausted sprawl on the ground, and I licked my fingers as I nestled my body next to hers.

“Oh, Good Mother,” Julia gasped, her usual, pious nature returning to her, “I can’t believe I said those things!”

“I can.” I chuckled, holding out two fingers webbed with her lust, “Do you want to know what you taste like?”

“Maybe a minute ago I would have,” Julia laughed, “now I just want to sleep. I’ll have to get up early in the morning to pray away all the sin of tonight.”

“You know,” I said as I sucked my fingers, “chances are, the mages have figured out who you are by now. By tomorrow, the entire empire will be looking for you; the Heat Bringer who killed the princess. The Church of the Holy Mother believes Creators are heretics, and after adding murder to your infractions, you’ll surely be excommunicated.”

“I know,” Julia said with a sad smile, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop following the teachings of god.”

“But you won’t be a nun anymore,” I said with a sly grin, “which means your vows of chastity will be made null, and you can have sex with a man without it being a mortal sin.”

“You just want me to lay with a man so that you can,” Julia smirked, “at least you’re trying to remain faithful.”

“I will never cheat on you,” I said with complete conviction, “but Julia, we’re too young to be monogamous.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Julia said, “and I suppose you’re all worked-up right now, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I giggled, “so if you could, you know, reciprocate some of the affection I gave you…”

“Fine,” Julia sighed, “you can have sex with Drask.”

“Thanks, babe.” I smiled, planting a kiss on her lush, red lips. I rolled over, rested a hand in my platinum hair, crossed a suggestive leg, and stretched my body lasciviously, displaying my glowing form to the darkness of the tree line.

“Oh, Dra-ask,” I called, “you can stop hiding behind that tree now.”

“What?!” Julia hissed.

“He’s been watching us the whole time,” I smirked as the gleam of his brown eyes shown bashfully from behind a tree, “he thought he was so sneaky, but I caught him.”

“Oh, Good Mother!” Julia exclaimed, scrambling for something to cover herself with, realizing she burnt all our clothes to ash, and then diving into the tall grass.

“I’ll get you a blanket after I’m done.” I whispered to the emerald eyes peering embarrassedly from the stalks. I drew by body upward, and then strutted to the dark elf behind the tree, my gait a shifting display of lust that teased with each bulging cheek. The light of my body illuminated the forest like a pale lantern, and revealed Drask, failing to stuff his erection into his waistband. I grinned at the mortified dark-elf, grabbed his poorly-concealed weapon, and pulled him into a lecherous kiss. He stood in a shocked stupor for a moment, then traced his calloused, rough palms down the smooth skin of my back, grabbed me greedily by the ass, and pulled me up. After thirty minutes of panting, cursing and moaning, I think we managed to work-out our differences.

JULIA

The river was calm in the morning, the water a glass mirror that reflected the dawn sun. Song birds whistled their rousing songs as the crickets chirped the last chords of their nocturnal tunes. I prayed silently by the river bed, recalling each sin from the previous day, and asking The Mother for atonement. The soft sound of feet meeting earth came to my ear, and Lucilla knelt beside me, her hands clasped, and her posture demure and humble.

“Bless me sister, for I have strayed from The Mother’s path.” Lucilla recited quietly.

“Bare your sins before me, so that I may ease the burden on your soul.” I answered, and performed my last confession as a sister of The Holy Mother. After she’d listed the sins we’d shared, and the sins she’d done on her own, I took off the headdress of my habit, still covered in the grime and muck of yesterday’s ride in the fish cart, and placed it in the river. It floated gently away on the calm water, before darkening with moisture, and sinking below the surface.

“We’ll traverse the Terondia River to Silva Lake,” Drask said, hauling supplies into the canoe, “past there, the river will be watched, which means we’ll need to take the tributaries through Arbortus.”

“That’s dangerous,” Lucilla said, “the nymphs hate elves.”

“Not enough to harass us,” Drask grunted, taking my hand and guiding me gently into the craft, “as long as we keep our heads down, and stick to the banks, they’ll leave us alone.”

Drask smiled as he took Lucilla’s hand in his own, and guided her into the canoe. He gave her a friendly smack on the butt, prompting a delighted yelp from my lover, and then pushed us off the bank. I didn’t remember much about geography, but I knew the route we were taking was going to be a long one. The elven empire was the eastern-most nation on the continent, bordered by Arbortus directly to its west, and the human kingdom of Grundinar to the south. We’d have to traverse through Arbortus, and then the human kingdom of Drastinar, the human kingdom of Bulsinar, and the mountainous, dwarven princedoms, before we even got to the Droktin Pass. After that, the Gratoran Desert was a vast wasteland that spanned the western third of the continent, making it the largest, and emptiest nation of all.

My mind drifted as Malek paddled the long canoe up the river, the steady drip and splash of the paddle putting me in a meditative state. I found my eyes resting on his tanned forearms, and I watched dumbly as they flexed in rolling chords of muscle with each twist of his wrist, the veins bulging robustly in branching patterns from his bicep. His hands were clean, but rough; trimmed and washed nails, but scarred and battered fingers connecting to calloused palms. I wondered how they’d feel on my waist, on my breasts, cupping my backside, or sliding between my thighs…

“Julia?” Malek’s thickly-accented voice broke me from my trance. I started upright, and then found myself blushing deeply.

“Are you good?” He asked, narrowing his beautiful, brown eyes at me, “Water sick?”

“No,” I said quickly, “just… thinking.”

“Thinking, hmm?” Lucilla smirked from beside me, watching my gaze, “Thinking about something in particular? Maybe a certain, specific thing? Maybe something hot, and throbbing, and-”

“Wow,” Drask gasped, “look at that!”

Our canoe rounded a bend of the Terondia River, turning into the mouth of Silva Lake. The expansive body of water was a crystal-clear pool, and from its glassy surface, reflected one of the great wonders of the world. Arbortus was a forest, but calling it such somehow didn’t do it justice. The Great Maples stood over a thousand feet high, their trunks thicker than castles, their branches stretching toward one another over the vast expanse of woodland. Below them, deciduous and pine foliage mixed in a clutter of bark, leaf and needle, many of the trees several-hundred-feet tall themselves, but all dwarfed by the black-barked towers of the maples. The massive trees were separated by distances of half a mile, yet their branches created an uninterrupted canopy over the forest, blanketing the land in a green ceiling.

“The nymph Life Giver, Ray Dawnbark made those trees four-thousand years ago,” I found myself saying, “they were but saplings then, but they never got sick, and they never stopped growing. Fire wouldn’t scorch them, and wind wouldn’t topple them, so they remained, and grew to giants over the millennia.”

“Those are some big, fucking trees.” Lucilla said, summarizing my statement with the eloquence only she could muster.

Malek paddled us across the lake, away from the Terondia River outlet, and toward the stream that entered Arbortus. The entrance of the nymph realm bore no sign or markings, but the shadow of the canopy. Its ceiling stretched so high, that it seemed more like a second sky than a covering; low clouds obscured its leafy reaches in some places, and few birds breached its heights. The sun didn’t shine through it, but seemed to filter past the leaves, bathing the world in a green hue. The massive branches of The Great Maples arched over us and connected their tips, creating a cathedralic hall of immense proportion. Below the expanse of green sky, the world was teeming with life. Insects of a million varieties buzzed and called, birds of the thousands chirped, cawed and screeched, squirrels squeaked, deer flitted shyly through the brush, bear roared, and a Valkyrie stood watching us.

“Holy shit!” Lucilla gasped, “Is that a Valkyrie?!”

The majestic winged-woman stood hundreds of feet above us, perched atop a branch and looking down on us as we passed beneath her.

“She’s a long way from home,” I said, gazing up at her, “I wonder which peak she hails from?”

“She’d be from Iona,” Drask said, raising a fist to the woman, a salute she did not return, “pure-white wings mark her as one from the highest peak. Those from Ofan have streaks of gold in their wings, and those from Breyta have streaks of silver.”

“Why is she all the way out here?” I asked, “Her homeland is on the other side of the world!”

“They’ve been venturing out a lot more lately.” Drask said, “When I was a boy, you’d be lucky if you saw one flying off the Gratoran Wall in a year. Before Malek and I left for Terondia, we saw three or four of them coming off The Wall per week, sometimes more. A few orc tribes started setting up nets in the Droktin Pass, trying to catch a prize.”

“That’s awful!” I exclaimed.

“These are the people you’re trying to help.” Lucilla said in an I-told-you-so tone of voice.

“Every group has bad apples,” Drask said dismissively, “legend has it that one nation kidnapped seven-hundred children based on the word of an old man, and then proceeded to experiment on them for the next eleven and a half years. Some even say they did interspecies sexual experimentation, just to see what would happen. Some even have the audacity to say that the princess of that nation participated in the experiments herself! But that can’t be true, can it? What kind of savages would do such a thing?”

Lucilla stuck her tongue out at Drask’s smug grin. Malek continued paddling through the quiet stream, the drip and splash of his paddle a gentle constant as the midmorning sun changed to afternoon. We stopped when the light of dusk shown dimly through the green sky, and set up camp at a clearing within the root structure of a Great Maple. The roots were massive, thick growths of wood with a diameter of forty feet, their girths dwarfing the height of many nearby trees. Looking directly up from the base of a Great Maple was a dizzying experience. The true enormity of the tree couldn’t be grasped until you stared up the length of its trunk, watching as it narrowed to impossible heights, and then branched into a network of limbs that loomed over you for thousands of feet. I was considered a god to many people, but looking at this great, permanent fixture of life, I felt like absolutely nothing.

“It would be best if you covered yourself,” I heard Drask say to Lucilla, “the nymphs aren’t really Creationists; they just worship The Life Giver. The Earth Former is considered lesser, and The Heat Bringer is considered by some, to be evil.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Fire.” Malek said, pointing at me, “Wood.” He said, pointing at the trees.

“Oh.” I replied, feeling a shiver run up my spine.

That evening we did not build a fire, but we wouldn’t have needed it for light. Trillions of bioluminescent fungi lit the world in an ethereal, green glow, from the hovels in the ground, to the highest reaches of the canopy. It was as though the forest were a magnificent ballroom, and the fungi were torches that lined its expanse. The haunting lights spiraled the lengths of the Great Maples, shown along the branches that arched above, and littered the forest floor. Lightning bugs and fireflies flitted this way and that, contributing to the other-worldly illumination with green blazes in the air. I nestled my body next to Lucilla’s and gazed up at the marvel, neither of us speaking, but simply watching with wonderous stares. The lights began to distort in my waning eyes, and drowsiness took its hold on my mind. I heard the blissful sounds of yawns from my comrades, and the nestling of bodies making beds of the earth. I let my head rest against the rising chest of my love, and watched the lights glisten and blur into shapeless stars before my closing eyes.

When I awoke, the world had changed. The earthly green of the bioluminescence was now an orgy of pinks and reds, alighting the dark forest in a passionate hue. I gasped at the amazing sight, and upon my inhalation, something changed. Tingles radiated outward from my body, alighting my flesh in pleasant fire, and stoking the flames within my nethers. Every motion of my body became a struggle of sensuality, every nerve felt like it stood on edge. Viscous wetness dripped between my rubbing thighs, and sweet heat burned from my shallow breaths. I found myself fascinated by the curves of Lucilla’s body, and I ran my hand along them with gentle avarice.

Heat Bringer, a soft voice whispered from the forest, come to me.

The voice was a caress, a brush of tickling lips against the tender places of my mind. It was not a command, but a suggestion, and it was hardly a suggestion I wanted to refuse. I left my sleeping lover, and followed the sweet sound. The voice beckoned me through proud groves and serene ponds, guiding me along a path of twisting, massive maple roots. The roots seemed to grow denser as I walked, overlapping each other, creating huge bridges of black wood that arced and weaved a hundred feet from the ground. They snarled together and then coalesced, merging to a single point; a tree. A cherry blossom tree, perfect and beautiful, its trunk made of the spiraling roots of its gargantuan neighbors, its canopy a mosaic of iridescent reds. White light pulsed from its trunk, shooting tendrils of energy into the network of roots that surrounded it. It beat like… like a heart. Like the heart of the forest. The trunk opened along a slit, revealing a pink glow from its depths. I became dimly aware that what I was doing was insane, but I didn’t care. The voice sung its soft melody into my mind, and I listened, and walked with a blissful smile curving my lips.

My tunic was stifling and constricting, so I let it fall from my body. My shoes felt alien on my feet, so I kicked them off. I felt the bark against my soles, and the humid air gently caressing my body, and it felt right. This place of primal nature, of the pure wild, would not suffer the pointless binds of society. I stepped through the threshold, my heart thrumming pleasantly and my mind open and curious. The walls of the cavern were pink and soft, fleshy in their texture and warmth. I ran a hand along a surface, and felt a gentle pulse beating deep beneath it. The place should have been bizarre and frightening, but I only felt a sense of safety, comfort and strange familiarity. This wasn’t the heart of the forest; this was the womb.

Welcome, Heat Bringer, the voice said, echoing from all around me, soothing and sweet as a mother’s whisper, it has been long since one of your kind has walked upon my roots.

“What are you?” I asked, strangely unafraid

I am called Passion, Passion said, the reverbed tenor of her voice growing clearer, and I am the seed of Arbortus. I awaken with the spring rains, and bring about the mating season. Every midnight after the vernal equinox, I release the pheromonic spores of the fungi, seeping the land in my fertility and lust, and alighting Arbortus in a fire of my own. I hope you enjoyed the spectacle.

“It was beautiful,” I said, relaxing on the warm floor in a sprawl of uncharacteristic languor, “but how did you know that I was here?”

I see through all eyes that are born beneath my canopy, Passion said, her voice sounding as though it were getting closer, and I’ve been watching you with great interest.

“Why?” I asked.

You excite me, the voice chuckled, I am vast and timeless, immortal in every sense of the word, except for one weakness…

The echoing nature of the voice sharpened until it was a singular, crystal sound. Its bearer stepped before me, as beautiful as the forest she was a part of. She was a nymph, but not like one I’d ever seen. Her skin was a canvas of golden-bronze, its pristine surface dotted with freckles that sparkled like diamonds from her complexion. Her hair was a flowing curtain of scarlet, brighter than my own, and from its passionate mane protruded black antlers in place of ivory horns. Her body was a display of curvaceous fertility; thighs that barely separated at their peak, hips presenting glutes of creasing suppleness, and a soft abdomen shadowed by doming breasts, whose pale, pink nipples contrasted the rich tone of her sparkling flesh. Her face was heart-shaped, freckled with diamonds, and bore lush lips, a pointed nose and a pronounced jawline. Her eyes were almost unnaturally large, their irises were golden instead of the nymph pine-green, and their sclera was a deep purple instead of white.

“…you.” She smiled warmly at me, “You are my mortality, Heat Bringer. The fire that could end me, the flame that could scorch my green soul black.”

“I would never do that.” I said, watching as Passion stepped toward me with impossibly fluid grace.

“Maybe, Heat Bringer, maybe,” she said softly as she slid her golden form next to me, “but you are still a threat to me.”

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked, oddly unconcerned for my own safety. Passion laughed a sweet, sonorous laugh. It was such a disarming sound, that I couldn’t help but laugh along with it.

“No, child,” Passion said, smiling sweetly, like a mother to her foolish daughter, “I am the construct of the Life Giver, and I do not take what has been given.”

“Are you a Sentient?” I asked, finally feeling a tickle of fear.

“You surprise me,” Passion smiled broadly, “most who know of Sentients call them astral beings, but you know their true origin.”

“I read a lot.” I said quietly, the tickle of fear becoming more pronounced. Passion placed a hand on my shoulder, and the fear disappeared into gentle warmth.

“I would have been Sentient, had Ray Dawnbark not tied me to this place,” Passion said, gesturing broadly over the pink surroundings, “he melded my essence to every root and vine in the forest, and made me its eternal caretaker. It took every ounce of life within the great expanse of Arbortus to keep me as I am, and still, I must create new growth to preserve myself. It is why I release the spores every spring, so that those beneath my canopy are compelled to create new life. It is why you are not listening to me right now, and instead staring unabashedly at my breasts.”

The melody of her voice was a sweet thing, but the lyrics of her song were lost to my ears. Passion’s sparkling flesh radiated its enticing warmth just inches from my body, her floral smell wafted its sweet aroma into my nostrils, her beautiful form splayed lazily before my eyes, every curve a feast to behold. She cupped my chin with a gentle hand, and brought my gaze to her smiling, golden irises.

“I will make a lover of you, Heat Bringer,” Passion whispered, each word seeming to melt like honey into my ear, “for that is how I deal with threats. I will offer you endless bliss and pleasure, and you will remain here with me in paradise, sating your desires until you pass from this world.”

The pink hue of the cavern began to deepen into a passionate red, and the fleshy walls began to leak with a clear, viscous fluid. I felt my breaths grow hot and heavy in my chest, my body tingle with soft fire along every nerve, and my mind melt into a catatonic state of carnality. I moved with a languidness that was foreign to me, shifting with gelatinous motions possessed by some untamable lust. The fluid dripped from the ceiling onto my naked form, seeping its warmth over my body, oiling my flesh in a glistening aura. Passion rose to her knees, dropped her head behind her shoulders, and let the nectar shower her; dribbling its clear molasses upon her face, glossing and matting her red hair, oozing down her breasts, and sheening her golden-bronze skin in a layer of lust. She slid her oiled body atop mine, every touch of her form brimming with interminable seduction, every move a graceful display of sinuous motion. She slithered down my slickened torso, her tongue tracing a line along the curve of my breast, over my erect nipple, through my abdomen and between my legs. Her golden irises gleamed from their purple orbs as her lush lips found the dripping petals of my love. Her tongue slipped through my blushing folds and pushed tenderly along the vulnerable stretch of my ceiling, permeating aching pleasure into my depths. I moaned a delectable tone, biting my lip and arching my back, moving with a sultriness that was unnatural to me, my mind compelled by some unquenchable avarice.

I have sons for you to enjoy, Heat Bringer. Passion’s ethereal voice echoed as her mouth tasted.

The walls pulsed and tremored, their fleshy membranes growing thin to reveal their spawn. Nymph males, all strong, all purple-eyed and golden-skinned materialized from the depths of the womb. Their forms were sheened with the fluid that soaked mine, and they walked toward me with arousal in their eyes and bodies. Somewhere in my mind, it occurred to me that I was about to lose my virginity to a spirit of the forest, inside a giant vagina. The absurdity of it was lost in my consciousness to the thundering drums of my insatiable desire, and I accepted my situation with blissful readiness. I watched them approach me with eyes half-mast, licking my lips, moaning my need and pleasure as Passion’s female form consumed me; the wetness of her mouth mingling with the wetness of my lust, her tongue lapping the secreting arousal that dripped from my swollen petals.

I shared my mouth with one man, and then the next, marveling at the taste of a masculine kiss, feeling their muscles pressing against my delicate form. They surrounded me, their aggressive heat melting against my body, their curved shafts throbbing above me. I took one into my hand, running my fingers covetously along it, eyeing it with a hunger I’d never known before. I stroked it, savored the pulsing nature of its heat, and then brought it to my lips. My tongue tasted him, my lips sucked him, I sheened him with my saliva and hummed my smiling lechery up at him. He entangled a gentle hand in my hair, guiding me back and forth, but not forcing me. I felt warm, hard, chest muscle pressing against my back, and tender hands cupping me about the fat of my glutes. I was lifted upward by strong arms, Passion’s mouth rising with my body, unrelenting in her lustful consumption, and then I was slowly let down. I felt a pressure against the aperture of my sinful hole, and a felicitous throbbing permeating from the source. I unwound my fingers from the man I was tasting, and reached beneath myself, gripped the wet, succulent meat of my ass, and spread. The nectar that covered us all prepared me for his entrance, and he expanded me painlessly, pushing through my resistances with tender ease, and penetrating inch after inch of his wonderful cock into my anus. My humming tone grew in pitch, my shoulders flexed backward slightly, and my spine straightened as pale flesh squished into tan pelvis. He thrusted gently into me, not exerting me, not hurting me, but driving with a methodical sensuality, violating me tenderly with the lubricated length of his manhood.

I was a goddess on a perverse throne of men, the subject of adoration, the object of worship. My male partners were subservient, loyal, and gentle; bending to my every whim, anticipating my every need, treating me with the reverence I deserved. Two mouths found my nipples, and sucked tenderly upon the nodes, bringing their erectness to a pleasing ache. The man beneath me pushed into my anus with gradual, slow motions, allowing me to savor every bump and vein, every subtle change in girth, every inch of his depth. A pair of strong hands massaged my shoulders, comforting me in my lust, loosening my already languid body into a gelatinous sprawl of relaxation. I engrossed myself in the hedonism, reveled in the excess. I entangled my fingers in the hair of the men nursing from me and pressed them deeper to my bosom. I rotated my lips around the man in my mouth and smiled as his face slackened in pleasure. His delightful cock began to pulse and heave, and I milked him for all he was worth, sucking until my blushing cheeks went gaunt. His baritone groans were sweet music to my ears, and the eruption of his climax was sweet candy on my tongue. I giggled delightedly as he poured his delicious filth into my mouth, and I stared into his purple eyes as I swallowed every, last, drop.

Passion’s mouth was glistening with the excretion of my femininity; strands of viscous fluid snapping from her lush lips as her tongue ran over them, tasting the remnants of me while she guided a man to my awaiting slit. I smiled at the man through parted lips, moaning the song of my tender sodomy as I beckoned him with lustful eyes. Passion guided the man by the shaft, and he gently parted the meat of my thighs, splaying my legs lazily off to the sides. He pushed his tip slowly forward, and my petals creased inwardly with him, my virgin tightness causing my lips to indent with his penetration. There was a second of discomfort, only a moment, where a pained whimper brushed my lips. The moment passed, and the man glided into me, his shaft amply greased with the nectar I oozed upon it. His girth moved alongside his brethren, squishing my fleshy division between them, electrifying the nerve-covered swath of me that separated my womanhood from my sinful channel. His crotch pressed against my pelvis, and my head fell backward as a moan of pure delight coursed from my mouth.

The orgy was one of sensuality, of graceful motions shifting to a soft cadence, of dripping lust, of bodies glazed with amorous honey, of saturated warmth mingling along curves slick with our secretion. The passionate hue of the place bathed us in its pink and red tones, gleaming its color from our wet flesh. Tongues found vulnerable places to taste, lips found tender nodes to suck, mouths hummed and moaned, wined subtle cries and whimpered decadent pleasure. I was encased in a bed of hot bodies, all moving to please me, all writhing to the gentle thrusts that pierced me. Passion stood behind me, her sparkling complexion gleaming with the fluid that covered us all, her mouth panting soft euphoria as the man massaging my shoulders tasted the inside of his mother’s rectum. She laced her elegant fingers into my wet hair, and sung a soothing song into my ear as I shifted back and forth, moving slickly across the man in my ass, my legs spread wide for the man in my pussy. She hovered her slit over my face, not demanding me to please her, but offering me to taste her. I accepted. I wrapped my moaning lips around the delicate petals of her erogeneity, and tasted the flavor of her. The movements of my mouth came unnaturally natural to me; an experienced tongue which had no experience, knowing lips which knew nothing at all. I didn’t worry about how I’d learned these skills, or why they’d come to me, but simply did as my instincts prompted, and poured my desire into the wet heat between Passion’s golden legs. I unraveled my hands from the hair of the men drinking from my breasts, and sunk my fingers into the succulent meat of Passion’s glutes, spreading her open for the man eating her ass, and allowing the sweet froth of her slit to drip into my consuming mouth.

The orgasm that came wasn’t a violent, wrenching thing, but a swell, a rising of feeling that ballooned within my depths. The motions of my body didn’t become urgent, but more impassioned, more purposeful. My back arched subtly against the man taking my anus, pressing my stomach against the men sucking from my breasts, and pushing my head against the man eating Passion’s ass. Hands held me all along my form; gripping my thighs, cupping my glutes, sliding along my abdomen, squeezing my breasts, and massaging my shoulders. They caressed me from the outside as my climax rose from the inside, compelled outward from my nethers by the gentle drives of the men piercing me, the lubrication of their defilement spilling from my pleasured holes. I shifted and squirmed in my bed of bodies, and they held and supported me in whatever position my lust compelled me to move. My nose pressed into Passion’s wet taint as the feeling began to take hold of me, and the moaning tenor of my voice became a soft cry that waned into her dripping depths. My hips tilted forward, my pelvis dropped between my spread legs, and my muffled euphoria sang from my occupied mouth as I orgasmed. I felt hot seed rush into my channels, filling me with molten felicity, melting into the tender flesh of my erogeneity. My virgin womb was saturated with it, my rectum was filled with it, and my mouth tasted the fountain of Passion’s ascension.

I laid satisfied and intoxicated, breathing in the hormone-soaked air, and exhaling sweet tenors of bliss. The bed of men shifted, picking me up gently, changing positions, and then lowering me back down, their slick bodies hot with the radiance of my flesh, new members standing erect and throbbing, waiting to please me. Passion sprawled her body next to mine, smiling affectionately into my eyes as she made furniture of her own sons; spreading her legs and separating her glutes, sighing as she was defiled in both holes as I was. I smiled into her eyes and caressed her softly along the cheek, moaning in congruence with her as we were taken simultaneously, joining in a lust that would never end.

LUCILLA

We’d searched for a week. I knew she was alive by the power that still thrummed alight beneath my skin, but it was a faint thing. She hadn’t tried to draw from me once. Hell, she hadn’t so much as stubbed her toe in the last week judging by the dim light of my power. I believed Julia could survive on her own, but I doubted she would have done so without even the slightest bit of stress. Could she have been drugged? Was she in the back of a barred-carriage to Terondia, stuffed to the brim with opium? I pushed the thoughts from my mind; they were of no use to me, not when facing the forest.

For seven days, we’d slogged through marshes, hacked through groves, and waded through streams. The first night without Julia, we sat in solemn silence, three people in an incomplete circle, staring numbly at the iridescent greens of the forest. The shimmering tones turned to garish pinks and reds before our eyes, and the sober people we were, changed to carnal, hedonistic things, engaging in the needs of our bodies without any heed for the world. The exhaustion we suffered through the next day was a hard lesson, and we learned to find sleep before midnight the next evening. Arbortus was vast beyond comprehension, and the towering trunks that once dazzled me, now only seemed to loom threateningly. Every patch of forest felt like every other, every attempt at landmarking our location was in vain, every crook and hovel seemed a clone of the last. We were rested, road-fairing travelers on day one, and haggard, wild creatures by day seven. My hair was matted and covered in filth, my skin was clammy and scratched in a hundred places, my feet were sore and blistered. I’d ceased my royal bitching after day two, not due to Malek and Drask’s annoyed growls, but because I was too fucking tired to talk. By the seventh day, none of us said anything at all, until Malek broke the silence.

“Stop.” Malek said, holding up a splayed hand. I halted behind him, and Drask stopped behind me. Malek cocked his head, inclining his pointed ear to the sky and listening with one eye closed. It was then that I heard it: nothing. The constant chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, the squeak of squirrels had all ceased. The bustling soundtrack of the forest was muted to a tense silence, with only the whistling wind through rustling leaves to break it. Malek slowly reached over his shoulder, and unslung his bow. Drask put a hand on my arm and guided me to crouch in the foliage, before unslinging his bow from his back. They kept their heads low, their backs straight, and their knees bent level with their hips as they moved in the underbrush. They stopped suddenly, postures stiff and unmoving, hands deftly nocking bowstrings. They kept their loaded weapons tensed and ready as their heads swiveled on static bodies, searching with the keen, hunter-eyes of the elves.

An explosion tore through the silence, ripping the earth from the ground, showering the world in blackened soil and splintered bark. Malek rolled to his left, barely dodging the kinetic blast that cratered the ground before him. Drask dove to his right, summersaulted in a display of athleticism, and then loosed his arrow into the brush. A scream of pain sounded from nowhere, and Drask nocked another arrow just in time to be blown into red mist. The remnants of the man seemed to dissipate in the air, blowing like crimson dust and mixing with the upheaval of black soil. I screamed and fell backward, my eyes replaying the shocking terror over and over again, unable to process what happened, unable to fully believe what I just saw. Malek let out a sound so agonized it would be seared into my memory forever. He loosed arrow after arrow, tumbling this way and that, rolling to his feet, reaching behind himself, grabbing a shaft, nocking it, and firing all in one motion. One scream sounded from the foliage, and then another, and another. Kinetic spheres were hurled at the dark-elf, cratering the ground around him, blasting debris into the air, and he rolled between them, firing with every stop, emptying his quiver into the forest, roaring at the tops of his lungs until his body separated into a million pieces.

I sat dumbly in the brush, my heart thundering in my chest, my mouth agape, and my eyes wide. Bald-headed high elves stepped from the greenery, their brows shining with astral power, their gazes fixated on me. I fell backward, kicking at the earth, scrambling vainly into the forest on scraped hands and knees. Tears stung my eyes, thorns scratched my cloak, twigs lashed at my face. I made it fifty yards before strong hands grabbed me, and flung me to the ground. They stood over me, five of them, their pates gleaming in the green light, their face impassive masks of coldness. One of them reached down, and pulled my hood from my head, and all of their expressions widened.

“Princess Lucilla?” One of them gasped.

“You’re alive?” the second exclaimed.

I huddled on the ground, trying to keep my cloak over my entire body, trying to hide what I’d become. It didn’t work. My cloak was in tatters, it barely covered my knees, and they saw; they saw it all. One of them reached down and tore the shredded cloth from me, leaving me naked and terrified, lying in fetal weakness.

“You’ve bound with her.” The third of them whispered.

“We cannot let her live!” The fourth said, raising his palm toward me.

“Are you insane?!” hissed the fifth, “This is the princess!”

“The emperor cannot bind with The Heat Bringer if she is already bound,” the fourth one said, “he will not need to know; everyone already thinks she’s dead.”

“He killed Telavia for less.” The third one said, nodding.

“It’s for the good of the realm.” The second one concurred.

“It’s a necessary evi-“

There was a whoosh, a flash of white, and a fading scream as the mage disappeared. The remaining four jerked their heads up, narrowing their eyes, searching with twitching neck movements like crows scouting a road. Their astral melds gleamed from their brows, the ethereal being within them extrapolating every piece of life in their range, leaving no stone unturned, leaving no creature unseen. Whoosh, thump, scream. Another mage disappeared in a flash of white, torn from the earth as though he weighed nothing at all, the only evidence left of him being the fading echo of his death throes. The other three were panicking now, ducking at every sound, their narrowed eyes widening in terror.

“What the fuck was that?!” hissed one of them.

“Can you sense it?” whispered a second.

“I can’t see shit! Why can’t I see it? What the fu-”

Then, everyone saw it; saw her. The Valkyrie split the mage down the middle with a double-headed axe, cleaving him so cleanly that his two halves stood in momentary stasis, before separating and falling aside. A mage raised his hand to blow her away, but his hand wasn’t there anymore. He hardly had time to scream at the stump before his head blasted from his shoulders. The last mage hurled a kinetic attack at the warrior, and she folded her wings before her, absorbed the lethal shock with ease, and unfurled her span in a fury of white, redirecting the attack back at its bearer, and blowing his bloodied pieces high into the canopy, decorating the pine branches with ornaments of his gore.

She stood six-feet tall; her warrior’s body encased in tight-fitting leather armor, and framed with broad shoulders, an ample bust, a muscled torso and wide hips baring thick, toned glutes. Her blonde hair was braided intricately about her crown, and flowed down her shoulders in ropes of gold. Her face was cast with a brow that shadowed her fearsome, blue eyes, lush lips that creased into a grim frown, and a nose that broadened into a pronounced bridge, before drawing seamlessly back into her brow. She was past her youth, as exhibited by the faint lines on her forehead, but she was still one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. She folded the fourteen-foot span of her wings, and knelt before me, her hard expression growing soft and loving. She placed a tender hand on my cheek, and I felt hot tears pool in her palm. I curled into her body, and cried, venting my horror and grief, sobbing my realization that the world wasn’t what I thought it was.

That evening, the Valkyrie bathed me in the stream, tended my wounds, and fed me. She adorned me with a cloak of her own, and hemmed it at the skirt and arms so that it wouldn’t drag. I didn’t speak to her, and she didn’t speak to me, but she hummed a soft, mournful tune as she nurtured me, and its lullaby melody soothed my troubled heart and panicked mind. We sat upon the roots of a Great Maple, watching the twilight dwindle into dark, and the glowing spectacle of Arbortus come into view. She took out a flask, took a deep swig, and then handed it to me. It was a hearty liquor, and it burned in all the right ways. I smiled a small, grateful smile, and handed it back to her.

“What’s your name?” I finally asked.

“Freydis.” Freydis said, her voice surprisingly soft, her eyes watching the river.

“Thank you, Freydis,” I said with painful earnestness, “for saving me.”

“It is you who is my salvation, Bound One,” Freydis said, looking at me with adoring eyes, “you are holy, a sacred person to my people. I have oaths I must speak to you, but they are long and ponderous, and you are obviously tired.” Freydis dropped her head and looked at the river again, an expression of shame lingering on her face, “I am sorry I could not save your brethren, Bound One.”

“Don’t blame yourself for that,” I replied, putting a hand on her back, “what could you have done?”

“A lot of things,” Freydis said, her jaw working tightly, “but all I saw was a squabble between elven factions, and I decided not to intervene. I apologize for my cowardice; I could have saved them.”

“Hey now,” I said, sitting beside her and putting my arm around her broad shoulders, a task that was jarring in its ergonomics, “I don’t blame you. How could anyone blame someone for not risking their life for a fight they had nothing to do with?” I looked up at her handsome features, and waited until her blue gaze met mine, “You’re my hero,” I smiled, “and I’m eternally grateful.”

Her expression softened again, and she returned my smile. I nestled my body against hers, resting my cheek against her soft breast, and curving my form into the bow of her torso. She stiffened, unsure of the situation, and then placed a tentative arm around me, and relaxed. It was a platonic embrace, one of a protector and her charge, and in that moment, it was the exact kind of contact I needed. I needed to feel protected.

“Why are you so far from home, Freydis?” I asked.

“I’m looking for my daughter.” Freydis replied

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I said, looking up at her, “if you’re willing to tell it.”

“My daughter, Astrid,” Freydis said, clearing her throat, “is a bone-headed young woman. Nine days ago, she charged off Iona, convinced beyond all doubt that she would find The Earth Former, the patron god of our peak. She was immediately netted by orcs in the Droktin Pass.”

I felt a ping of sadness as Drask’s words came flooding into my mind, and the tears began to film on my eyes. I brushed them away before Freydis could see them.

“That’s awful.” I muttered.

“It worked in her favor,” Freydis sighed, shifting against the tree she was resting on, “as all things seem to with Astrid. I raced after her once I heard the news of her capture, and I found the slave cart she’d been hauled in, melded to a massive cube of obsidian that could’ve only been made by one man.”

“Did it have a fist sticking out of it?” I asked. Freydis raised her eyebrows, and nodded.

“My father took me to see the exact thing,” I chuckled sadly, “small world.”

“It sounds like you have a story to tell me, Bound One.” Freydis said, her eyes searching.

“I’m Princess Lucilla Fritari of the elven empire and my father is an insane tyrant,” I replied tersely, not wanting to tread on still-open wounds, “that’s pretty much it. Please continue.”

Freydis puffed out her cheeks, her eyebrows raised. She seemed to mull that revelation over for a moment, then inclined her head, nodded, and continued.

“I searched far and wide for Astrid and The Earth Former,” Freydis continued, “until I came upon more evidence of the god’s activities on The Gratoran Wall;” Freydis frowned for a moment, “a statue of my own daughter, arched in the throes of great lust, complete with the act of her fornication carved perfectly between her stone legs.”

“Sounds like they became pretty fast friends.” I giggled. Freydis did not share in my amusement.

“The Iona Guard has vows that prohibit such things,” Freydis said, “a winged-warrior is to have sex only once in her life, and only to bear a daughter. We believe that putting oneself beneath another for pleasure is a weakness, and a warrior cannot afford weakness.”

“But how many warriors get a chance to sleep with a god?” I laughed, “Isn’t there some clause in your contract that makes exceptions for a divine fuck?”

Freydis eyed me with a stern frown, and then broke into a smile.

“I suppose you are right, Bound One,” she chuckled, “were I a younger woman, raging with lust, I’m sure I would’ve fallen prey to the temptation of bedding a divinity. Still,” she smiled slyly to me, “I’m not exactly pleased that everyone south of the Droktin Pass gets to see a statue of my daughter getting plowed.”

I burst into laughter, my mirth unusually strong in the wake of the day’s events. I laughed until my stomach hurt and tears welled in my eyes, and Freydis’s sonorous laugh accompanied mine. We shook together until the sighs of dying merriment fell from our mouths, and Freydis continued her story.

“So, I traveled south along the Gratoran Wall, until I came upon a great heap of smoldering ruins.” Freydis’s mirth left her, and her frown creased her cheeks once again, “Their wreckage is the reason I’ve traveled to Arbortus. The Earth Former, it appears, has some quarrel with the nymphs, as he levelled their entire colony in the Tentigo Tropics.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered, feeling my heart drop, “that’s terrible.”

“It is a terrible thing,” Freydis nodded, “I worry after my daughter, but if she has sworn her allegiance to him, which I’m sure she has, then there is nothing to be done. I can only wait for her and her charge to come to Arbortus, if his quarrel with the nymphs extends this far. If not, then I have no idea where they’ve gone.”

“Would you follow him?” I asked, “The Earth Former? If he demanded your servitude, would you bend the knee?”

“If I am unsworn, then yes,” Freydis replied, “I would gladly bend the knee.”

“But he’s a monster!” I exclaimed, “He slaughtered an entire colony!”

“The gods are still very young,” Freydis said, “and prone to emotionally-charged mistakes. The morality of divinity cannot be compared to the morality of the common man; it would be like comparing your morality with that of an ant’s. Where a normal man might get into a fist fight, a god might destroy a town. It is up to institutions like The Iona Guard to not only serve and obey, but to also advise and guide, to mold the adolescent gods into adults of morals and principles. Astrid is an ideologue, a foolish girl at times, but a good one; I am sure she is working tirelessly to teach The Earth Former how to become a good man.”

“Julia is a good woman,” I said, “and she doesn’t need to be told not to kill hundreds of people. She couldn’t even kill to save her own life.”

“That is your bind?” Freydis asked, “The Holy One is called Julia? She is a woman?”

“Why yes, she is,” I smirked at Freydis, “what do your codes say about lesbianism?”

“It is forbidden, obviously,” Freydis said, “we are a mountain colony of women, and I’ve already told you of our codes pertaining to sex. We wouldn’t get anything done if we could lie with each other.”

“You and Julia are going to get along just fine,” I snorted, “she’s an ex-nun, and she just loves her vows. She has to pray away her transgressions first-thing every morning, even before she takes a piss. At the rate she’s been sinning lately, she’ll be prostrating until she shits herself.”

“Do you think she will have me?” Freydis asked hopefully.

“Oh, sure,” I laughed, “but if you call her ‘Your Holiness’ it might kill her with embarrassment, so please, by all means, worship her to death.” My laughter waned in my throat as reality sunk back in, “Of course,” I said quietly, “we have to find her first.”

JULIA

One of Passion’s daughters served me wine, another served me chocolates. One of her sons massaged my back with stimulating oils, the other’s face was consumed by the pale bulge of my cheeks, enveloping his nose and mouth as his tongue slid between my options. I didn’t know how long I’d lived in paradise, but it felt like forever. My memory was a hazy thing, filled with fractured images and blurred faces, and it was uncomfortable to try recalling it, so I didn’t. Why would I exert myself with the past? Everything in Passion’s world was about the present, and she filled the present with excess. That was the theme of my life now; decadence. Indulgence without consequence, sin without punishment. I hardly knew who I was anymore, and I hardly cared. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was the feeling of now, the present desires, the pleasure of the immediate.

“Have you ever wondered,” Passion prompted, her golden irises staring from the tops of her purple sclera as she laid on her stomach in front of me, indulging in the same activities that I was, “about the pleasure of a man?”

“Hmm?” I smiled drowsily, groaning in lazy pleasure as the man beneath me wrapped his lips around my wetted rim, and pushed his tongue inside, “I don’t think I have to wonder about the pleasures of a man, Passion; as you can see.”

“I mean the pleasures a man feels,” Passion said, pausing to stick out her tongue so that one of her daughters could place a truffle upon it, “the pleasure he garners in lust.”

“I’m sure every woman has,” I giggled as my man’s tongue rolled around my insides, sheening my filthy channel with his spit, “but judging by the reactions of men and women during sex, I’d say our gender got the better deal.”

“What if you could feel both pleasures?” Passion asked, eyes gleaming, “The pleasures of a man and a woman, simultaneously?”

“That almost sounds like a suggestion,” I smirked, biting my lip as the man’s tongue curled and slid along my fleshy walls, “do you have something in mind?”

Passion beckoned her youngest daughter over to her. She was younger than I was, barely a woman at all, her figure still lanky with youth, but baring the breasts and hips of someone whose flower has bloomed. As with all of Passion’s children, this girl had eyes of purple, irises of pink, and antlers in place of horns. She laid down before her mother and spread her legs, perching up on her elbows and watching Passion with excitement gleaming from her youthful face. Passion took an indulgent moment to lick chocolate from her fingers, and then lowered her wine-stained lips to her daughter’s crotch, and wrapped them around her clit. The girl gasped, and then groaned a strained, exerted wine. She began thrusting in the air, slowly at first, but then increasing her pace to a fervent pump, her tones turning to cries of delight, her mother’s head glued to her crotch and grinning as it sucked from her nethers. The girl fell to her back, planted her heels into the ground, and thrashed back and forth as she thrust, forcing Passion to anchor her hands to the girl’s petite glutes to keep her face in place. The girl was sobbing now, shifting wantonly, thrusting as though her body were doing it without her permission. Finally, her head reared back, and an exaltation of pure joy flowed from her trembling lips as Passion’s mouth was filled with her daughter’s cock. The girl’s thrusts eased to gentle pushes, and her cry waned to a violated whimper as her hips descended, revealing the new organ sheened with her mother’s spit. It was overflowing with cum, spilling like lava after the eruption, causing the girl to moan insistently as her crotch pooled with it. Her older sisters came forward and lapped her nectar greedily, and the moaning whimpers of the girl softened to gentle gasps as her cock finally stopped orgasming, and began to droop onto her sticky pelvis.

“I can change you, Heat Bringer,” Passion said, giving her youngest daughter a parting kiss on the cock, before crawling languidly toward me, “I can enhance you to your liking, create a beautiful creature of lust from your canvas.”

“Yes,” I whispered, gawking with wide eyes at the cock that lay between the girl’s legs, staring at it with envious want, “change me.”

“How would you like to be changed?” Passion smiled as I raised myself to my knees, my servants leaving me.

“Your skin,” I said, running my hand along her shoulder, admiring the diamond freckles that sparkled from her, “I want to shine like a diamond as you do.”

“I can do that,” Passion whispered gently as she guided me to my back, “what else?”

“My breasts,” I said, trailing dangling fingers over my bosom, “I want your sons to drink milk from them.”

“I can do that as well,” Passion smiled, lowering her lush lips to my left nipple, “anything else?”

“Make me like your youngest,” I whispered pleadingly as Passion’s lips began to suck from my breast, “give me the gift of a man.”

“As you wish, Heat Bringer.” Passion grinned back, and then resumed her nursing. Her lips drew my nipple from my breast, toying with its erectness until I moaned for her. She began to suckle from me like a babe; my node stretching in and out of her lush, pursed mouth, her cheeks puffing and then growing gaunt with each pull, her tongue teasing the tip, causing it to grow red with stimulation. I felt my breast being drawn pleasantly to her sucking mouth, and wetness form from the tiny apertures surrounding my node. Soft whimpers slipped from my panting lips as the pleasure grew from my chest, my nipple starting to ache with pressure. Passion sucked with more avarice, stretching my nipple from my breast, causing my moan to escalate to a wining plea. She grabbed the succulent fat of my bust and gently squeezed, releasing the aching pressure, and causing warm milk to spill from Passion’s sucking lips. I giggled delightedly as she drank from me, and pressed her face closer to my breast, groaning maternal utterances of pleasure. My breast began to swell, its sloping nature changing to a vulgar dome, the nipple sticking outwardly even more, as though pressed forward from within. Passion changed my other tit with the same sensuality, leaving my chest adorned with high, full breasts that jutted from their perches in gravity-defying fullness, their nipples leaking with want.

A fleshy orifice in the ceiling pulsed and dilated, growing a passionate red, and then opening. Clear fluid poured from it, dripping its molasses onto my face, and running thickly down my neck, over my breasts, and across my abdomen. Tingles of pleasant warmth seeped into my flesh wherever it touched, and soon, every surface of me was alight with the feeling. Passion chuckled as I squirmed in it, bathed in it, tasted it. Twinkling gems began to form on my skin, little dots of white diamonds that reflected pink in the garish womb. They formed on the follicles of my mound, replacing the curly mat of red hair with a smooth canvas of jewels, seeming to point at the slit beneath them. They were sprinkled about my arms and legs, dotted my abdomen and breasts, and played across my necks and cheeks. I splayed out my limbs, admiring my new complexion, turning around and looking at the sparkles that now decorated my pale glutes, and basking in the vanity of my new beauty.

Passion slid her body atop mine, seeping the warmth of her form along my sparkling curves. She shared her lips and tongue with me, and then moved lower, and lower. She stared at me from between my legs, her crimson hair tickling my thighs, her golden irises smirking from their purple depths. Her lush lips wrapped gently around my hood, and began to suck. I felt it immediately; not just the pleasure of her drawing my erogenous bead from my swollen petals, but something else. An aching, wonderful pleasure the likes of which I’d never experienced before. A ratcheting pressure with in my pelvis, a boiling feeling that only grew the harder she sucked. She pinched her fingers together, and pushed a lubricated fist deep into my rectum. My head flew back and I cried a sonorous tone of pure euphoria. There was something different about anal now, an added… something. A pulsing organ deep within me that throbbed with the pressure that roiled in my depths, seeming to be at the very center of it. Passion’s fist rotated inside me, her fingers uncurled, and her fingertips rubbed gently against my new prostate. It was more than I could take. I began thrusting wildly into the air, compelled by instincts that did not belong to my gender. It was a rage of sorts, a manic need to be inside someone, but I didn’t have the parts for it. Not yet. Passion rotated her squished lips against my pelvis, sucking my clit into her mouth, pulling it relentlessly as she teased it with her tongue. The pressure in my pelvic floor increased to a maddening level, driving my mind into a manic haze of singular focus: to thrust, to penetrate, to come. The feeling suddenly surged forward, my new milk-maker gushing, sending the pressure through my pelvis, toward my crotch, and out of my new cock.

It grew in Passion’s mouth, thick and veiny, long enough that the woman gagged around me as she tried to keep it all in. The pressure burst from its tip, and exploded into her throat, sending me screaming in manic delight as I thrust wildly between her lips, smashing my pelvis into her face, defiling the pristine outline of her mouth with uncontrolled brutality. I held Passion’s face down by the horns and laughed as her eyes rolled into her head; her mouth sucking whorishly, her throat constricting painfully. She reached between her legs and began desperately pleasing herself, compelled by my own fervent lust, possessed by my own desires. I came continuously, unloading spurt after spurt, thrusting with uncaring violence, punishing Passion with my masculinity. She hummed a scream around my cock, reveling in my brutish nature, swallowing for all she was worth. I held her face against my crotch, burying my entire length into her, pressing her nose into my pelvis, squishing her lips about my base, watching as her rolled-back eyes brimmed with tears of pain and pleasure. I forced her to drink the last of my orgasm as she gave herself one of her own, her body writhing behind her, wavering on trembling legs. The rage left me, the insatiable need faded, and the peaceful lust of paradise thrummed back into my mind. I let Passion go, and her eyes lolled forward. She pulled slowly, sucking so hard her cheeks stretched from her face, swallowing every drop I had to offer, revealing the full length of my new manhood.

“Sorry,” I smiled apologetically to Passion as her lips parted, strings of cum bridging my tip and her mouth, “I couldn’t control myself.”

“No woman can when she first experiences the heat of a man’s lust,” Passion smiled, licking my tip and running her delicate fingers down my length, pulling her fist from my ass and caressing my pussy, “it is a dangerous, brutish thing that can only be controlled with experience.”

“How do men not just… rape everything in sight?” I laughed, marveling at the throbbing nature of my new organ, “that was unbearable!”

“Do you not enjoy it?” Passion asked, a hint of worry in her voice, a shadow of concern etched across her beautiful face.

“I love it,” I chuckled, bringing Passion up to me, feeling her dripping folds deform against my cock as she passed over it, “what’s wrong?”

“I was worried that you might regret it,” Passion said almost bashfully, showing emotional vulnerability for the first time since we’d met, “I wouldn’t want you to think that I deformed you.”

“I think of it as an enhancement.” I grinned, trailing my hands down the soft muscles of Passion’s back, sliding my palms to the swell of her tan glutes, “It’s strange to see you uncertain of yourself.”

“You make me uncertain, Heat Bringer,” Passion smiled, sliding her oozing slit along my new length, “it’s an exciting feeling, but also a terrifying one.”

“Why do I make you feel uncertain?” I whispered as her thighs separated, allowing my raging heat to push inside her, taking my male virginity.

“I’m not sure,” Passion gasped as she inched herself down my length, the curve of her back deepening, “I haven’t felt like this since…”

She looked deeply into my eyes as our pelvises connected, as she took the last bit of me into her tight, wet heat. Her head dropped onto my new breasts, and we took a breathless moment to savor the sensation. When her face raised to mine, her golden irises were glinting with affection, and her mouth was curved in an adoring smile. She kissed me there, but her kiss tasted different than all her others. There was a flavor of love in it.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Heat Bringer,” she whispered as she pulled out of the embrace, “but I never want you to stop.”

“I won’t.” I said, cupping a gentle hand to her cheek, trying to wipe the worry from her face.

“Are you happy?” Passion asked, an expression of… guilt? Why would she feel guilt?

“Of course,” I smiled, starting to thrust into her, “this is paradise, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Heat Bringer,” Passion smiled, almost ruefully as she began grinding atop me, “because you’re here with me.”

I’d never asked Passion why she called me Heat Bringer. Was that my name? Did I have a name? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was the now; Passion’s hot insides clenching around me, Passion’s warm skin pressing against me, Passion’s wet lips melting into me. There was nothing else. There was no one else.

LUCILLA

I hated heights. I hated the vertigo-inducing view from atop the palace tower, I hated traversing the treacherous edges of cliffside roads, but above all, I hated flying. Rationally, I knew the straps that held me to Freydis were strong enough to haul a cow, but that didn’t stop me from cringing with every little slip of the ropes. Rationally, I knew the likelihood of Freydis crashing was slim, but that didn’t stop me from imagining the nosedive. Rationality had little real-estate in my mind when I was staring down at seven-hundred feet of nothing. I tried to hold in the need to piss and vomit as I scoured the tiny features beneath me, hoping beyond hope that a mane of red hair would pop out somewhere.

Where the fuck did you go?!

Freydis landed on a thick branch high in the canopy, giving me a chance to do the necessities. Even though its diameter was easily twenty feet, its curved surface led me to believe a stiff gust of wind would send me tumbling right off it. Freydis stood confidently while I crawled on my hands and knees, trying to keep my eyes fixed on what was right in front of me, and not the thousand-foot drop at my sides. Had I been looking up, I probably would have noticed the arrowhead pointing right at me, but I didn’t. No, I crawled, grumbling and cursing, right into the point of it.

“Ow, shit!” I yelled, rubbing the top of my head, looking up, and then groaning. It was a nymph warrior, all five feet of him packed with muscle and weaponry, standing naked save for the straps that held his blades. Freydis spun on her heel, reached for her axe, and then stopped as scores of arrowheads protruded from the foliage, seeming to filter from the greenery. We were fucked.

Freydis was stripped of her axe and bound by the hands and feet. I probably would have been tied in a similar manner, until our captors saw the markings on my flesh. Then, I was tied with every piece of rope they could find, and carried by a pole like a prized pig. I might’ve been worried that they were going to eat me, had I not been so preoccupied with screaming my lungs out in terror. The nymphs decided that the best way to transport Freydis and I, was to toss us from branch to branch, catch us with nets, and then toss us again. I was thrown over the thousand-foot drop repeatedly, tossed through the trees for a mile until we got to the colony.

The nymph colony of Arbortus was essentially a large tree house, but instead of a house, it was thousands of buildings, and instead of a single tree, it was twenty massive Great Maples. The wood buildings covered the connecting branches like barnacles on a wharf, seemingly built at random. A closer look would show that each building was precisely engineered to be built where it was, but from a distance, it looked like a shanty town in the skies. Ropes and ladders hung from every branch, spiraling steps wound the circumference of the trunks, and bridges were constructed across thinner spans, allowing for easy transport from tree to tree.

The nymphs moved with deft agility and confidence, jumping spans like they meant nothing, climbing sheer sides as though it were as simple as taking the stairs. I endured ten more minutes of nerve-wracking transport before I was thankfully dropped on a flat floor inside a spacious hall. From my awkward position on the planks, I could see sunbeams shining through rafters, and carved archways supporting a wooden ceiling. Whispers echoed ahead of me, but I couldn’t crane my neck enough to see who was talking. I was suddenly pulled upright, stripped of my binds, and then stripped of my clothing in less than a second. Behind me, I heard Freydis struggling and cursing, and in front of me, sat the eight matriarchs of Arbortus.

I could tell they were ancient by their turquois hair, light-green complexions, and the overgrown size of their ram-like horns, but the unknowing eye would see them as women barely past their teen years. They were all smooth-skinned and naked, exposing bodies of lean muscle, slender build and petite bust. Nymph females were creatures of subtle curves, but that didn’t mean they weren’t beautiful, and Arch-Matriarch Flora Autumnsong was the most beautiful of them all. Her face was almost girlish with its round cheeks, soft chin and big, pine-green eyes, but despite the apparent youthful innocence of her portrait, she held the unmistakable air of authority.

“For eleven years, we have lived under a shadow,” Flora said, her voice commanding, but not hard, her big eyes watching me intently, “the threat of annihilation. When Emperor Flitari claimed to have the Heat Bringer within his keep, the world thought him mad, but we did not; we knew our enemy too well. We knew that the tenuous peace between our people would not last, that Flitari would find the weapon he needed, and he would use it.”

I crossed my arms over my naked breasts, shivering, but not because it was cold. Freydis had stopped struggling with her captors, and was standing at stiff attention, dignified and stoic as ever.

“Many in Arbortus consider The Heat Bringer to be the very manifestation of evil,” Flora said to me, eyes narrowing, “the power of hell formed flesh, the spiritual enemy of the true god, The Life Giver.”

Now, I did feel cold. A chill ran up my spine, prickling the hair on my neck, prompting clammy sweat to form over my glowing complexion.

“You can imagine our joy then,” Flora beamed, her gaze softening, “when news reached our ears that this Sister Julia Gendian is no weapon of the emperor, but his bitter enemy. The weapon the imperialists would use to destroy us has turned against them, and found refuge in our borders. We welcome you with open arms, Bound One, and we are grateful for your deeds.”

I let out a long exhale, feeling a weight lift from my chest, and the terrified chill warm from my skin. I was not going to be executed. Freydis’s binds were cut, and she was handed back her axe, which she snatched indignantly from its bearer and rested on her shoulder, instead of strapping it to her back.

“You have a hell of a way of showing gratitude, Your Grace.” Freydis growled.

“I apologize for the overzealousness of our scouts,” Flora said dismissively, “but there has been a dramatic increase in mage infringement within our borders, and we can take no chances.”

“We’ve noticed.” Freydis grumbled. Flora pointedly ignored Freydis’s anger.

“What is your name, Bound One?” she asked me.

“Sister Silvia Septina of The Seventh Order of the Holy Mother,” I said, taking the mother’s name of Julia’s order, and changing the prefix to match my age, “and this is Freydis Skyborne of Iona.”

“The High Guard herself! We’re honored.” Flora said with raised eyebrows, revealing something about Freydis that I didn’t know. I turned my head and gave her an inquisitive look, but she did not return my gaze. Her jaw was working subtly and her fists were clenched. I realized with a sinking heart that I’d forgotten that Valkyries cannot deceive, and with barely any prying at all, the matriarchs could find my true identity from Freydis. The cold sweats started creeping back, and I hurriedly redirected the matriarchs’ attention to me.

“We are grateful for your hospitality, wise matriarchs, and I am certain Sister Julia would be more than open to an alliance against our common enemy,” I said, using what little diplomatic skills I’d picked up between benders at my estate, “but Sister Julia has been missing for the past eight days.”

The matriarchs gave each other nervous glances, and joined heads in a conference of whispers. They sat back, and Flora addressed me again.

“Where did she go missing?” she asked.

“Near the eastern entrance of Arbortus,” I replied, “the first night we were here.”

“Do you believe that she was captured by the emperor’s agents?” Flora asked.

“That was my first thought,” I said, “but then a squad of mages attacked my retinue, killing two of my friends. I doubt they’d be in your forest if they’d already found Julia.”

“I’m sorry for your losses,” Flora said, “but it could be that they already have her, and are seeking to kill you to sever the bond.”

“I don’t think they would’ve gotten Julia without a fight,” I said, “she hasn’t drawn from me once since she’s been missing. She hasn’t even flared up on my flesh, but I still glow; it’s like she’s been sedated.”

“Did you say she disappeared by the eastern entrance?” one of the matriarchs asked. I nodded.

“Eight days ago?” another asked. I nodded again.

“And she left at night?” a third matriarch asked. Again, I nodded. Every matriarch looked to Flora, the atmosphere of the room growing suddenly tense.

“Well shit,” Flora said, frowning and sitting back, “the cunt got her.”

“What?” I asked, confused and worried.

“Arbortus is a super-organism,” Flora explained, “each Great Maple acts as an appendage, all connected by the entwined roots that serve as vessels. There is no heart to this being, and there is no mind, but there is a womb, and where there’s a womb, there’s a cunt, and that cunt calls herself Passion.”

“She is the spirit of fertility, and you will respect her!” a matriarch hissed at Flora.

“Not again.” Groaned a matriarch, putting her head in her hands.

“She’s a cunt, Ashvine,” Flora scoffed to the first woman, “just because she’s an essential cunt doesn’t make her less of one.”

“You know she’s just trying to protect herself,” another mage said quietly, “it’s her nature to be intrusive.”

“‘Intrusive’ is an interesting word,” Flora laughed humorlessly, “I think it fits her aptly.”

“You always blamed her for your familial problems,” Ashvine growled at Flora, “but it wasn’t her fault; it was your mother’s!”

“Are you calling my mother a whore?” Flora growled back.

“Quite the opposite!” Ashvine snapped, “If she hadn’t been so unwilling to bear an heir, the other matriarchs wouldn’t have been compelled to seek Passion’s help, and an incubus would never have gone to her bed.”

“Oh, that’s a fine solution!” Flora yelled, raising her hands, “Instead of listening to the woman to discover the reason for her chastity, let’s just send a beast to coerce her into fucking!”

“That beast was your father,” said another matriarch, “and he loved you.”

“He certainly had an interesting way of showing it.” Flora sneered, “I didn’t know absence was a form of love.”

“Are you sure?” Ashvine snarled, “Because that’s the exact kind of love you showed Willowbud.”

The room fell suddenly silent, all eyes fixed on the locked gazes of Flora and Ashvine. It didn’t take too much conjecture on my part to realize these two matriarchs hated each other. I should have felt relieved that their eyes weren’t taking in my nudity, but I felt even worse. The hostility was so thick in the air I could practically taste it.

“How dare you.” Flora whispered, her body shaking.

“How dare I?” Ashvine hissed back, “How dare I?! You exiled my niece to Tentigo without telling my brother, and you have the audacity to vilify me?!. Ten years-ten years he searched for her, only to end up dead in some gutter in Drastin!”

“You have no idea what I sacrificed,” Flora said haggardly, her face twisting, “you have no idea why I did what I did!”

“Oh, we all know, Flora,” Ashvine laughed cruelly, “Great Giver knows your vanity killed your husband and your own daughter!”

Oh shit. I thought, exchanging glances with Freydis. I stepped over to her as the screams became louder and shriller.

“Hey, uh…” I whispered to her, “I don’t think you should tell them about what happened to Tentigo.”

“I must,” Freydis said, “they need to be warned.”

“Maybe after we get Julia from this ‘Passion’ lady,” I said quietly as Ashvine and Flora stood, their faces inches apart, their spittle flying from their peeled lips, “but I’m afraid you might somehow start a civil war if you tell them now.”

Freydis looked gravely at the screeching women, their green faces now red with fury, their eyes bulging with hate, their heads cocked forward, looking as though they’d ram each other with their horns. Freydis nodded slowly, and I let out a relieved sigh. After a few minutes of screaming, Flora pulled rank, and Ashvine stomped from the room, her fists clenched, her eyes glaring furiously at me. Clearly, she wasn’t one of the nymphs that held progressive ideals about The Heat Bringer. I shuddered. The sooner I got out of Arbortus, the better. The remaining matriarchs reorganized themselves in their chairs, Flora breathing deeply through her nose, trying to exhale her fury.

“I am sorry, Sister Septina and High Guard Skyborne,” Flora said, composing herself, “that was something you did not need to see.”

I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“Passion doesn’t answer to anyone,” Flora said, “but she must listen to me if I come to speak with her. High Guard Skyborne, how many passengers can you carry in flight?”

“I can carry you and the Bound One,” Freydis said, “if we leave now, we can make it to the eastern border of Arbortus by this evening.”

“And time is of the essence,” Flora nodded, standing up, “let us be off.”

JULIA

Passion’s sons drank from my breasts, her daughters tasted my holes, and she herself, sucked from my manhood. I bit my lip and relaxed in the bed of sexual splendor, closing my eyes as I felt tongues sheening the tissue of my insides, lips pulling milk from my erect nipples, and a throat gently constricting around my cock. I splayed my fingers out lazily, shifted wantonly, moaned delectably. Minutes, hours, days and weeks meant nothing. The name ‘Heat Bringer’ meant nothing, and the name ‘Julia’ meant even less. The girl tasting my anus left it vacant, and a man came to take her place, pushing his bulging rod deep into my filth, causing me to whimper in gratitude as my back arched. Another man came up to me, rigid as desired, stroking himself with the lubrication that seeped from the womb and sheened our bodies. I stared along the length of him, smiled a half-lidded gaze, and pulled by body upward, reaching back and spreading my pale cheeks. I didn’t know how long I’d been in paradise, but somewhere down the line, my anus had lost some of its elasticity. I hardly ever gave my favorite hole a rest, and now it was almost constantly gaping; a ruby ruin centering the supple bulge of my glutes. This may have alarmed me at some point in my life, I didn’t know, but in paradise, it only excited me. Now I had room for more. The man already inside my ass moved, and the new man slid below me, centering his cock against his brother’s, and guiding me downward, stretching me into painful euphoria. They pressed on all sides of my sinful hole, rubbing against my prostate, causing my cock to curve with engorgement in their mother’s mouth. Their sisters licked my taint and trailed their tongues into the folds of my pussy as their brothers sucked the milk from my breasts, drawing from me in constant pleasure.

My lust was never an exerting thing in paradise, but a languid, shifting thing, savoring every touch and violation to the fullest. My anus was slowly expanded, gaping me to new widths, training me for the day where I could add another man to the mix. I let my head drop behind my shoulders, my hair tumbling back, tickling the man’s face behind me as he held me upright, gently raising and lowering me onto his violating member. I moaned to the ceiling, exalting in my debauchery, living life by the seconds between breaths, by the pleasure between heartbeats.

“I have a surprise for you,” Passion whispered, licking the tip of my cock, “I think you’ll like it.”

“I always love your surprises.” I smiled, moaning as Passion’s sons pushed congruently into my stretched rectum, “What is it?”

“You’ll see,” Passion giggled teasingly, her tongue traveling to my base, “it’s almost done. Just a few more-”

“Passion?” a distant voice called from somewhere. Passion jolted upright, her eyes widening.

“Passion?” the voice called again, “It’s Flora. I know you have The Heat Bringer in there.”

There was that name again; Heat Bringer. Why did they call me that?

“Is this your surprise?” I asked, petting Passion’s hair as I grinded on my sodomizers, “Is she going to join us?”

“Passion,” the voice called again, louder this time, “I know you’re in there. I’ve got a Valkyrie with a big, fucking axe, and she isn’t as patient as I am.”

“She sounds mad,” I giggled, “I wonder what she’ll do to us?”

Passion was not sharing in my playfulness. Her eyes were darting nervously from me, to the slit in the room.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my lightheartedness dwindling just a bit.

“Nothing,” Passion said, smiling unconvincingly, “you stay here, and I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry,” she kissed the tip of my throbbing shaft, and smiled with a little more conviction, “I’ll be back; just stay here.”

LUCILLLA

I didn’t know how the hell Julia physically got here. The path from our old campsite to the cherry blossom tree was a treacherous maze of twisting roots, some of which stood a hundred feet from the ground and offered only a few inches of foot room. A nymph might be able to traverse the path, but an elf? Impossible. It was no wonder Drask, Malek and I never found her.

Freydis stood with her axe in hand, waiting for Flora to give her permission to start hacking at the bulging mass of wood. Flora tapped her foot impatiently, and was about to give Freydis the nod, when the tree opened. Pink light glowed from a slit in the trunk, and a nymph the likes of which I’d never seen emerged from its depths. To say Passion was stunning would be an understatement. Not only was she more voluptuous than any nymph in Arbortus, but her tan skin sparkled from thousands of gemstone freckles, her hair waved a garish scarlet from her crown, and protruding from this mane, were two black antlers. Her golden irises quivered from their purple depths, and her lush lips trembled to the cadence of her chattering teeth. She was terrified. Good. I hated this bitch the moment I saw her.

“W-w-w-what do you w-w-want, Flora?” Passion stuttered.

“The Heat Bringer, you stuttering whore,” Flora laughed cruelly, clearly enjoying Passion’s fear, “let her go.”

“I can’t,” Passion said softly, “she’s a threat.”

“She’s no threat,” Flora said, waving her hand impatiently, “she killed the emperor’s own daughter; she is no ally of the elves.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Passion said, only looking at Flora, not daring to look at me, “she has the potential to end all of us.”

“Hey!” I yelled at Passion, but she would not meet my gaze, “Julia doesn’t give a shit about your fucking forest! Let her go!”

“I am sorry, Bound One,” Passion said, her eyes glistening, but still looking away, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, “but I cannot let her go.”

“Why the fuck not?!” I shrieked. She wouldn’t look at me; the bitch wouldn’t look at me!

“B-b-b-because…” Passion whispered, staring off to the side, “because I love her.”

Hot rage boiled inside me, burning into my mind, electrifying my muscles. I rushed Passion like a crazed animal, and pounced on her, tearing at her hair, scratching at her face, trying to deface her beauty to a mass of bloody pulp. I’d never laid my hands on anyone in anger before, but I couldn’t stop myself now. The audacity of this woman, the balls on her, to say she loved Julia, when Julia had bound with me?!

“Look at me, you cunt!” I screamed, beating her over and over, smacking her face into a blur of flailing, scarlet hair, “Julia belongs to me! She loves me! She doesn’t give a shit about you!”

Passion didn’t try to defend herself; she let me beat her. She let me scratch and bite and rip until my fingernails broke and my arms grew tired. Freydis put her arms around me comfortingly, and then pulled me away, leaving the spirit of Arbortus sobbing and breathing raggedly, but infuriatingly unharmed. The scratches on her face melded together, the patches on her scalp filled with hair, and the bruises on her body dimmed to nothing. She stood on wobbling legs, wiped the grime from her face, and looked at me for the first time.

“I am sorry, Bound One,” she said, her voice wavering in her chest, “but I cannot give her back to you.”

The rage left me, and only the sinking despair remained. There was nothing I could do to this woman, nothing that would shake her resolve. She was terrified of me, but she was willing to face that fear for her love. For my love.

“Please,” I begged, feeling tears welling in my own eyes, “please let her go.”

“I’m sorry.” Passion mouthed silently, looking painfully guilty. She turned around, her hands leaving the side of the threshold, and Julia stepped into view behind her. My jaw clicked open. Julia moved with a sultriness that would put a succubus to shame, and smiled with a confidence that would make a prince shit himself. It wasn’t just her demeanor that had changed, but her body as well. Her breasts stood fuller and higher on her chest, now larger than my own, her skin sparkled with thousands of gemstone freckles, and between her legs, dangled a long, thick, veiny cock. Her gaze passed over Freydis, me, and Flora with passing disinterest, and then she grabbed Passion by the ass, and kissed her with a hedonism that would make a whore blush.

“Who are your friends?” Julia asked Passion after she’d pulled from the kiss, smiling into her lover’s royal-hued eyes.

“Don’t worry about them,” Passion whispered, caressing Julia’s apple cheek, “they were just leaving.”

They turned away from us, Passion’s arm wrapped around Julia’s waist, Julia’s hand buried in the fat of Passion’s ass.

“Julia!” I called raggedly to her, struggling in Freydis’s arms, “Julia, it’s Lucilla!”

Flora snapped her head sharply toward me, her eyes widening and her mouth falling agape, but I didn’t give a shit about her. Julia paused for a moment, turning over her pale shoulder and giving me a confused smile, before facing away once more.

“Julia!” I screamed, “Don’t you know me?”

She didn’t turn around.

“Don’t you love me?!” I cried hoarsely, my throat catching in my neck.

She just kept walking. The slit in the wood began to close, the image of my love thinning, her form growing to a dark silhouette against the pink glow. The last I’d ever see of her, unless I said the right thing. The words that would bring Julia back to herself. The words that had defined her.

“You killed your parents, Julia!” I shrieked after her, “You burnt them alive, you murderer!”

JULIA

Life had been a blissful melody, each note playing in perfect succession with the other, each chord thrumming in time with the light cadence, each verse and chorus a tune of care-free nothing. Then someone cut the strings, someone smashed the drums, someone slaughtered the choir. I stopped suddenly, my breath catching in my throat, my mind beating against my skull.

“Heat Bringer?” Passion asked beside me, failing to conceal the touch of alarm in her voice, “Are you alright?”

Mommy and Daddy are yelling at each other…

My face slackened as the thought played before my eyes.

“Hey,” Passion whispered, taking my hand in her face, her eyes searching mine, “what’s wrong?”

I’m crying in the corner, trying to get them to stop yelling…

My lip began to tremor and twitch, indenting my cheek with pained lines.

“Shhhhh,” Passion cooed, trying to be gentle and calming, trying to keep the fear from her eyes, “don’t worry about the past; let it fade from you.”

Mommy is snarling in Daddy’s face, poking her finger into his chest…

My eyes began to quiver in their sockets, burning with eminent tears.

“You didn’t do those things she said,” Passion whispered, trying to bring me into embrace, “she’s a liar, Heat Bringer; she just wants to hurt you.”

Daddy winds back his hand and slaps Mommy, sending her spiraling to the ground…

My vision filmed over, my hands clenched and unclenched, my breath grew hot in my chest.

“Let me help you forget,” Passion pleaded, her eyes wet, her hands grasping for me, “let me take the pain away.”

I’m screaming at Daddy, screaming high and loud, so shrilly I don’t even realize it’s my voice…

My muscles tensed beneath my skin, stronger than I remembered, surging with an energy that was all-too familiar.

“Let me love you!” Passion gasped, pushing her body against mine, grabbing hold of me desperately, “Please!”

It erupts from my body, uncontrollable, untamed, uncaring. Blue fire bursting from every surface of my form, setting the world aflame. Blackened faces screaming in agony, melting before my eyes…

My heart was thumping irregularly in my chest, an off-beat cadence that tore at my diaphragm. I fell into Passion, my mouth gasping, my eyes crying, my head a fever of memories, their pain burning into my temples and behind my sockets, raging against my skull.

“Please, Julia,” Passion sobbed into my chest, hands squeezing my shoulders, “please come back to me.”

Julia, that was my name. Julia Gendian; former sister of The Holy Mother, orphan of parents I had murdered, god of a religion I didn’t believe in. Lover of a woman who’d known me my whole life. Captive of a spirit who had stolen me from her.

I looked down in horror at the body she had changed, down at the evidence of sin that laid bare upon my flesh. Sin that would never wash away, sin that could not be forgiven. Deformation for the sake of depravity, indulgence in excess and debauchery, abandonment of everything I once stood for. My identity had been raped from me, my gender mutilated for perverse purposes, but that’s not what tortured me now. No, the agony that raged in my mind, was the knowledge that I had asked for it.

“What did you do to me?” I hissed through clenched teeth, my fingers sinking into Passion’s shoulders.

“Only what you wanted.” Passion whimpered, eyes bulging and trembling.

“What I wanted?!” I growled, shaking Passion, “Do you think I wanted this?!”

“I’m sorry!” Passion cried, still trying to pull me close, still trying to fuck me.

“You’re sorry?” I snarled, forcing her face to within a breath of mine, “You’re sorry?!”

“I love you.” Passion whimpered, her big, golden eyes staring with all the adoration in the world.

I actually laughed. I laughed an uncontrollable, hideous bout of mirth that came pouring from some dark place within me, some rot that festered and spread to every corner of my mind, some hatred that only begot evil. I was already a murderer, wasn’t I? I was damned to hell for the worst kind of sin, and I’d spent the last decade of my life trying to pray away the unforgivable. I’d always been a liar, a disgusting cunt who’s good at pretending, as Lucilla had said, except I’d only ever been lying to myself. This body was my reward from damnation, my true form, a reflection of the black soul that dwelt within it. Why not stack one more mortal sin onto the pyre, and reserve a better seat in hell?

I grabbed Passion by her mane of scarlet and tore her head back, smiling into her bulging eyes as my hand ran covetously along her form. Her breath quickened in her throat, her back arched for me, and she melted to my form, her body teeming with desire as her lenses quaked with fear. I loosened the hold I had on her mane, and tenderly cupped her wet cheek into my palm as my other hand pulled her close by the small of her back.

“In a way, Passion,” I smiled warmly, wiping her tears away with my thumb, “I love you too.”

I kissed her trembling lips. I tasted her fear, her love and her regret, and then I burst alight in white flame. I didn’t stop kissing her as she blackened and crackled, hissed and fused. I didn’t stop kissing her until she was ash.

LUCILLA

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Flora’s voice sounded from somewhere as I rested against the cherry blossom tree, my cheek pressing into the bark, my hands splayed pathetically across it.

“I’m supposed to be a lot of things,” I muttered, “but the only thing I’ve managed to be is a disappointment. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Freydis’s axe struck the tree for the twentieth time, hardly making a gouge in the wood. She cursed under her breath, wiped her brow, and went back at it, sending chips and sparks flying as blade met hard bark. Flora crouched in front of me, taking my chin in her hand and matching our gazes.

“Does your Father know you’re alive?” Flora asked. I shook my head. “Does anyone?” she asked, and I shook my head again. She let out a relieved sigh, and then levelled our eyes.

“You need to leave Arbortus,” Flora said slowly, as though speaking to a child, “you need to leave now. If the other matriarchs find out who you are, you’re dead, and I’m dethroned. You have a day to leave before I send scouts, and they won’t be taking you prisoner.”

“I’m not leaving Julia.” I grumbled.

“Julia has left you, Princess.” Flora frowned, standing up, “Passion is honored-bound to see me when I call, and she has. She will not come out again, and Freydis will not cut her way into the womb within this century.”

“She’ll come back to me,” I muttered, more to myself than Flora, “she has to.”

“I said the same thing about my husband.” Flora said, scowling down at me, “I said the same thing about my daughter, after I’d realized what I’d done. They don’t come back, Princess; they just die.”

My flesh illuminated brighter than it ever had, blinding the world in white light. Flora covered her face with her hands, Freydis fell backward, and I smiled.

JULIA

Passion’s children were ash on the floor, her womb was a burnt, bleeding cavern that smelled of charred meat. Her ethereal voice was raspy and hoarse in my mind, a dim song begging for mercy.

Please, Julia! Passion croaked, There is still time to undo this!

“You raped and deformed me.” I replied, my form ablaze on every surface, my footsteps searing into the living floor.

I loved you! Passion screamed in anguish, I still do! We can still be together, Julia; I can forgive you!

“Forgive me?” I laughed, writing my name on the walls with a gout of flame, hearing the sweet sound of Passion’s screams in the womb.

You don’t know what you’re doing! Passion cried, her voice far-past desperation, It’s not just me you’re killing, but the entire forest!

“A true atrocity,” I smiled, “like the Drokin Pass, or the melting of Hektinar. I wonder what they’ll call this?”

Stop, please! Passion sobbed, her voice sounding like that of an old woman’s.

“Why should I?” I asked, breathing in wet smoke and fire.

We have a daughter! Passion screeched, her voice wrought with agony, She’s still incubating within my womb. If you kill me, you’ll kill her!

“That was your surprise, huh?” I chuckled, “Sorry Honey, but I’m not ready to be a father. You’ll just have to get that abortion.” Keep my seat warm for me, Satan.

Please, Julia, Passion whimpered, I don’t want to die.

“But I want you to.” I grinned up at the ceiling, and then raised my arms, and blasted the roof off. I tested the limits of my powers, and realized there were none. I reveled in the excess with Passion one last time, and surged my endless blaze into the sky. The cherry blossom tree disintegrated above me, its remnants flying upward, propelled by the white vortex that pierced the night clouds, and thinned to a line in the stratosphere. I was a beacon of light for the world to see, a symbol of death for all to witness. I drew more and more, laughing as the power coursed through me, feeling every nerve electrify as I did what my blasphemous body was meant to do.

The catharsis faded from me with the last echoes of Passion’s screams, and I let the endless vortex dwindle and disappear. I smiled to myself, my heart feeling light, my body thrumming pleasantly. Blackness surrounded me, charred vestiges of my vengeance, smoky reminders of my divine justice. My smile faded, and my heart began to grow heavier. I frowned and shivered, suddenly feeling very cold. I dropped to my knees, my flesh connecting with something that was once alive, something that I had once loved. I pulled my hand from the ashes and looked at it, staring at the lines of death that creased my palms, reading my fortune like a morbid mystic.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, tears falling from my eyes, “what have I done?”

Only silence answered me. The crickets weren’t chirping their mating calls, the bats weren’t flitting lustfully in the air, and owls weren’t hooting their love across the branches. The beautiful green lights that had illuminated this place of majesty were gone, leaving only dead blackness, and the embers of my fire. I had done it; I had killed Arbortus. It wouldn’t die today, or tomorrow, or even in a hundred years, but it would be dying for that long, losing a little bit of its brilliance each moment, until the last tree fell.

“Father?” a soft voice asked from behind me. I started upright and whirled around, feeling the blaze beginning to alight on my skin. Good Mother, she looked like me. She had my apple cheeks, red lips, emerald irises, white sclera, and pointed ears, but Passion’s hue of red hair, and Passion’s black antlers sprouting from it. Her sparkling complexion was a mixture of Passion’s shade and mine, giving her an olive tone, and it layered over a slender, but nubile body of graceful beauty. Her breasts were petite but well-formed, her backside was cute and supple, her legs were thin but toned, and between her thighs, dangled the same deformity as her mother’s… or father’s, I guessed.

“Mother made me leave the womb once you started burning stuff,” my daughter said, looking around with wide eyes, “she said you were going to kill her.”

I swallowed, unable to even say ‘I’m sorry,’ unable to make any sound at all. I just sat on my knees before the girl I had fathered, before the girl I’d tried to kill just a minute ago, before the girl whose mother I’d just murdered. She did not seem to be mad at me; she didn’t even seem to be sad. She just looked around at the black silhouettes of the Great Maples, her mouth hanging open.

“Is the world always this dark?” she asked, “Mother told me there was supposed to be something called ‘the sun’ and it- there it is!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing toward the sky, “It’s not yellow like she said, and it’s not exactly a circle, more like a crescent, but-”

“That’s the moon,” I said quietly, “the sun comes out during the day.”

“The moon!” my daughter said with hushed awe, “So, this is night, huh? Where are all the green lights?”

“Your mother made the lights,” I whispered, my voice shaking, “and I killed her.”

“That you did,” she said, looking at the ashes, “and you did quite a good job of it.”

“I’m sorry,” I barely spoke, breathing ragged with eminent weeping, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Mother told me you would be really sad,” my daughter said as she walked toward me, “she said not to blame you for killing her, she said it was her own fault.”

“No,” I replied softly, turning my hand over in the ashes, “I chose to do this. I wanted to do this. I’m evil.”

“You’re not evil!” my daughter laughed, sitting cross-legged across from me, “You’re my dad, and since I’m not evil, that means you can’t be either! Everyone knows evil is hereditary.”

“Everyone knows that, huh?” I said numbly, “Who’s everyone?”

“Um…” my daughter said, eyes wide, looking bewildered, “I think I just made that up. What is that called, when you say something that’s not true?”

“A lie.” I replied, undoubtedly looking as bewildered as my daughter.

“A lie!” she exclaimed proudly, “I just told a lie! Maybe I am evil!”

“Passion taught you the word ‘hereditary,’ but she didn’t teach you about lying?” I asked.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” my daughter insisted in almost a scolding tone, “she only had about thirty seconds to teach me language, motor skills, concepts of life and death, math, physics, biology, and history before you blew her up.”

“Oh.” I replied, dropping my head, my emotions a dumbing mixture of confusion, grief and shame.

“Hey,” my daughter smiled, putting a hand on my knee, “she also taught me about how great a person you are; how kind and loving you can be, how gentle and patient you are.”

“I’m none of those things.” I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek.

“You are all of those things,” my daughter grinned brightly, “and I love you, Dad.”

My daughter crawled forward, turned around, and sat in my lap. She snuggled into my abdomen, made a pillow of my breasts, and then folded my arms around her. I sat stupidly for a moment, terrified and confused, ashamed and bewildered. Some primal, instinctual feeling began to swell within me. It was a warmth in my chest, a thrumming in my heart, a softness in my troubled mind. This was my child; I knew it without having to know, felt it without having to feel. Maternal and paternal instincts kicked-in, and I pulled my daughter into a protective, loving embrace, placed my lips on her crown and kissed her. She was Passion’s gift to me, the surprise she no-doubt thought would cement a love she’d engineered, but a love I had felt nonetheless. It made the guilt almost unbearable, but the warmth of my daughter’s form quelled the anguish. I made a silent promise to the woman I’d murdered; no harm would come to our daughter. I swore it on what was left of my soul.

“The last thing Mother told me,” my daughter said softly, “was to help you find someone called ‘The Life Giver.’ She said The Life Giver could rebuild the womb and save Arbortus.”

“The Life Giver is a Creator,” I said, resting my chin on my daughter’s head, “like me. No one knows who, what or where he or she is.”

“He’s a human boy,” my daughter said, “his name’s Bradley, or Bradford, or something. He lives in Drastin with a vampire.”

“What?” I exclaimed, “How do you know?”

“Mother had a permanent connection with all creatures born here.” the girl said, splaying her arms out dramatically to the darkness, “Some old succubus was hanging out with this Brant guy, and she was born here, so Mother knew where he was. She told me the vampires address, told me to tell you, and then she died.”

Redemption. No, not redemption, there was no redemption from this, but there was restitution, and that was a start. Passion’s last moment were valiant ones, and that knowledge made my guilt even more painful, but I resolved not to waste her efforts. The pain within me was good, the guilt was good; the guilt would remind me, the guilt would teach me, the guilt would strengthen me. I was damned to hell ten-times over, but that didn’t mean I would jump into the express lane. Satan could find a seat for me in the back, with less leg room.

“Tell me where the Life Giver lives.”

LUCILLA

“What have you done?” Flora coughed beside me, ashes falling on our bodies like snow. Freydis lay still in the brush, unconscious, but breathing.

“I tried to hold it in,” I groaned as I pulled a branch off me, “but I can’t keep her from using it if she wants to.”

“She’s killed my kingdom,” Flora gasped, kneeling before the blown-out remains of Passion’s womb, “she’s destroyed everything.”

“I would say I’m sorry,” I said, dusting myself off, “but your kingdom tried to steal her from me.”

“The harvest won’t come,” Flora lamented, not listening to me, “the trees won’t bear fruit, the roots won’t yield sprouts, the grain will wither and the stalks will fall. My people will starve!”

I knew I should feel horrified at what Julia had done, but I only felt relief. It was, after all, exactly what I’d hoped she’d do. I had gladly traded an entire nation for my own romance, but no one ever accused me of being selfless. Julia however, was as empathetic as I was self-absorbed, and I had no doubts that she was near-suicidal with guilt.

“They’ll hang me for this,” Flora was muttering, looking around with disbelieving eyes, “Ashvine will take my crown, and lead the exodus to Tentigo. I’ll be forever known as the arch-matriarch who let Arbortus be destroyed by the enemy.”

I climbed the smoldering wreckage of the womb, and crested the wooden crater to find Julia sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all, with what could only be her daughter sitting in her lap. I knew it the moment I saw her; the resemblance was uncanny. The girl’s eyes flicked to me, and she grew small in her mother’s arms like a shy toddler, an action that seemed incredibly odd coming from a girl in her mid-teens. Julia eyed me for a second, a maternal look of protectiveness on her face that I didn’t much care for. She turned her attention to the girl, nuzzling her mouth against her daughter’s pointed ears, and whispering something. The girl tentatively relaxed, and Julia nodded for me to come forward. This… this was going to be tough. I could immediately tell I was no longer the most important person in Julia’s life, and that did not gel with me. I silently cursed Passion once more as I made my way to the new family, trying to figure out how I fit into it.

“This is Lucilla,” Julia said to her daughter, watching me as I approached, “she’s kind of like my wife, but we’re not married.”

“Hi Lucilla.” The girl said, smiling a small smile. I returned it with a smile of my own, though there wasn’t anything genuine behind it, and Julia could tell.

“Lucilla doesn’t know you,” Julia said, staring hard into my eyes, “but she will, and you two will learn to love each other, because that’s what family does.”

That message was loud and clear; I could either be the bitchy step-mom, or the cool one, and my choice would dictate the new dynamic of our relationship. I naturally leaned toward the former option, but I’d try my damnedest to be the latter. I took a seat next to Julia, grinning internally as I felt Passion’s ashes shift between my ass cheeks. How’s that smell, you home-wrecking cunt?

“What’s your name?” I asked the girl in Julia’s lap.

“I don’t have a name.” she replied.

“What would you like your name to be?” Julia asked her daughter.

“Um…” the girl mused, looking around, “how about… Diamond?”

“Because you sparkle like a diamond?” Julia chuckled.

“That’s right.” Diamond grinned., staring up at her mother from the tops of her eyes.

“Diamond’s a stripper’s name, Sweetie,” I said to the girl, “maybe pick something less slutty.”

Julia gave me a withering glare, but I just shrugged.

“It’s true.” I said matter-of-factly, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s coming from a girl whose mother was named ‘Passion,’ but…”

I stopped as I felt Julia’s power boiling within me, ready to blaze from her narrowing eyes and melt me to nothing. This was not the same woman who couldn’t kill a mage to save her own life; this Julia was much more dangerous. I didn’t actually think she’d kill me, but the threat was there, and goddamn was it sexy. Julia’s entire persona screamed sex and violence; the way she carried herself, the way she stared at me, the way she looked in general. Julia undoubtedly thought her new body was an abomination, but looking at it now, all I could see were improvements. I hated Passion with a… passion, but I had to admit, I was a fan of her work.

“Diamond is a great name,” I gulped, “absolutely beautiful.”

Julia’s face softened into a smile, and I had to keep myself from swooning. I doubted Julia wanted to fuck in the ashes of her dead lover, in front of a daughter that looked about nine-months her junior, but I would’ve been down. Hell, Diamond could even join-in if she wanted to. I tried not to look at it, but facial features weren’t the only things mother and daughter had in common. Julia, however, was noticeably more… blessed.

“Diamond knows where The Life Giver is,” Julia said to me as she kissed her daughter’s head, “he’s a human boy living in Drastin. He can create a new womb, and save Arbortus.”

“That’s great,” I said, looking around at the forest that should be alight with Passion’s glow, “but can he make a new Passion?”

“He can,” Julia said, “but it will be dangerous for him to do. He might create a new Sentient if he fails.”

“Is that what Passion was?” I asked.

“She was flesh and blood in some ways,” Julia said, looking at the ash, “spirit in others, but she was no Sentient; Sentient’s can’t die.”

Julia held her daughter closer, practically smothering Diamond in the embrace. Behind her emerald eyes, my love was barely holding it together. I was glad Diamond was with her now; Julia might’ve actually killed herself if she wasn’t. Still, this wouldn’t be an easy wound to heal. It might never heal, but I would do my best. I might be a selfish cunt, but I do know how to love.

“C’mon,” I said, placing my hand on Julia’s arm, “let’s get the fuck out of here.”

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Chapter Six: The Pit

TERA

The crowd of The Pit was a monster, a single voice made of the tens of thousands. The stomping of feet accompanied the roar, and the pitch of its merciless call rose as the announcements were made. The infamous Death Kiss; now with a pretty face to put to the ugly name, and the Avenging Angel; a daughter of Iona with skills only heard of in legend. Together, we made a tandem the monster hadn’t seen before, a duo of beauties in the realm of beasts. The monster loved us, as any deific horror does, because we were virgin blood.

I sharpened my knives in the dugout, trying to keep my bladder from spilling my fear all over the bench. Astrid sharpened her blade with methodical calmness, seemingly unaffected by the fix we were in. I wasn’t sure what to make of the Valkyrie; it had been two days since I’d met the woman, and she hadn’t said a single word to me. Angela told me that Astrid had been friendlier before I met her, but ever since Willowbud had punished the winged-warrior for conspiring to rid her of Corruption, Astrid had become a stoic wall of impassivity; doubly-determined to retain her honor as my divine niece tried to strip it from her. It was a game the two were playing, but only one of them thought it was any fun.

“Why do they call you ‘Death Kiss?’” Astrid asked. I looked up, surprised to hear her voice directed at me.

“I would fuck my targets before I killed them,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders, “it seemed like the lady-like thing to do.”

“Oh.” Astrid said quietly, redirecting her attention to sharpening her already-sharp blade, and reestablishing the uncomfortable silence that stood between us. From outside, I could hear the announcer calling the names of our opponents, the men and women we would have to kill to sate the bloodlust of the monster. The crowd cheered each name, and each name was known to me. These weren’t bottom-of-the-rung washouts, but titled fighters; Willowbud wouldn’t settle for us facing nobodies in our debut.

“When was the first time you killed a man?” I asked, nervously disturbing the silence that Astrid was content to let be.

“When I was twelve.” Astrid said tersely, not looking up.

“That young?” I asked. Astrid simply nodded, and the silence returned. I sighed. Some people were introverts, and some people were just assholes.

“Do you enjoy killing?” Astrid asked. It was a strange question, but anything was better than waiting with nothing but my nervous heartbeats to keep me company.

“There’s a morbid satisfaction in it,” I replied, nodding, “do you?”

“I’m not supposed to,” Astrid said examining her blade, “the Iona Code says to kill without passion, and to seek no joy in it.”

“But do you?” I asked, leaning forward and trying to catch Astrid’s gaze. Astrid didn’t meet my eyes, but stared at her reflection in the polished flat of her blade. Her golden hair draped in a score of braids across her shoulders, her deep-set eyes stared coldly from her brow, and her lush lips were pursed in thought.

“No,” she finally said, looking at the ceiling of our dugout, the planks shaking with vibrations of the crowd, “not yet.”

I recalled Astrid’s punishment, and couldn’t help but feel a touch of arousal leak through my present fear. She was a magnificent creature, and seeing her pristine body chained to the floor as she took every patron in the bar was a sight I wouldn’t soon forget. Witnessing the duality of her lust; her shame and ecstasy, her disgust and revelry, her euphoria and guilt, was like watching a painting brushed by a master artisan. And after the proverbial paint had dried (and Justina had licked it off her), a slightly darker Astrid was revealed; a little more callous, a little more depraved, a little less dignified, and a little less honored. A little more corrupted.

“Mistress is trying to break me.” Astrid said, her voice eerily calm.

“I know.” I replied, unsure of how to respond to that.

“I can withstand the temptations of the flesh,” Astrid said, “but I’ve always lusted for glory, and somehow, Mistress knows it. It’s why she makes me debase myself in front of everyone; because I love it when they watch me.”

“Corruption knows the temptation that will take you,” I said, “It’s why I can’t stop myself from fucking the woman who enslaved my own daughter, and you can’t stop yourself from seeking the crowd’s approval.”

“Their adoration, their love,” Astrid said, looking ruefully up at the shaking boards, “my name on their lips. It is a cardinal violation for a winged-warrior to seek her own fame. Egregious enough for banishment.”

“Remember that your god is making you do it,” I said, trying to keep Astrid level, “your oaths are superseded by the rule of a higher power; no one can blame you for breaking them.”

“That’s true,” Astrid smiled sadly, “but I shouldn’t want to break them this badly.”

ASTRID

“…Night Eyes presents: Death Kiss, and The Avenging Angel!”

The announcer called us from our dugout, and the crowd roared our entrance. I stepped from the dark confines below the stands, and onto the sand of the arena. The senses of the world surged to clarity as I moved into daylight, and the sixty-thousand faces of the monster were laid bare to me. They were faceless faces, people without form or features, blurs of shape and color mixing in a mosaic of chaotic movement. I felt the adrenaline kicking into my chest and the excitement brimming to my chin. So many people, watching me, adoring me, loving me. Their call grew louder as I moved across the sands, their pitch grew higher as I neared the center of the arena. The great swell of noise rose around me and within me, electrifying my nerves, widening my eyes, stretching a manic grin across my face. My fingers unwound and curled into fists, my breath was steady and molten in my chest, my heart was calm, but thrumming dangerously. Across from me, stood the ten soon-to-be corpses of my challengers. Tera seemed intimidated by them, but all I saw were flaws. Too slow, too weak, too short, too fat. If these were titled fighters, then titles were sold cheaply in The Pit. Their titles would soon be forgotten.

No; they will live forever, I smiled to myself, as footnotes in my history.

Seeking fame and glory already, my conscience scolded, a whore for lust and a whore for murder. A whore for the nameless, faceless masses.

I tried to push the noble lecturer from my mind. It would do me no good to have a crisis of honor in the middle of a battle.

It’s not a battle, it’s a sport! my conscience yelled, Death for the sake of entertainment, murder for the sake of pleasure! If you find joy in this, then you are surely lost.

I buried my conscience where her sanctimonious rambles could barely be heard, and let the temptation take root atop her. The roar of the crowd, the smell of the sand, the thickness of humid air, ripe with the imminence of bloodshed. Tera stood next to me, her naked body gleaming in the noon sun, her violet eyes narrowed at the heavily-armed troop across from us. The noise quieted, and the world waited in bated breath for the starting horn. One moment of tense silence passed, and then another. Crows cawed their warning in the distance, vultures circled their anticipation above.

The horn blasted, the monster roared, and I charged. I ripped out my sword, unfurled my wings and flapped, surging me across the arena like an arrow through the air, my feet trailing against the sand below me, kicking a tale of dust in my wake. The orc in front of me barely had time to gape before I tore his head in two, leaving his gawking jaw resting on his neck. The woman beside him squawked, her bone-laden armor rattling as violently as her teeth. I wheeled onto her, and split her from collar to pelvis, spraying crimson over my leather armor.

Take no joy in it. my conscience whispered from somewhere.

The shock of my rapid advance had lost its effect, and five opponents circled me, weapons raised warily, teeth bared ferociously. I could see the fear in their eyes, the truth behind their masks of savagery. I smiled at them.

Take no joy in it.

They came at me all at once, weapons sweeping through the air, blades singing their duet with the wind. Dust rose, metal clattered, and five backs bowed as their strikes found the air beneath me. They looked up, their faces no longer baring their ferocious facades; only their terror. I grinned down at them.

Take no joy in it.

I dove into the fray, my blade sweeping out in a single, circular motion. It cut through flesh and bone, sinew and muscles, all as easily as a knife through butter. Two heads rolled, three arms flopped, and a torso slid from its owner’s hips. Four new corpses littered the sand, and four more sacrifices were made to the monster. It roared its heinous approval, and I felt the exhilaration teeming beneath my skin. My grin was more of a grimace than anything, and my widened eyes were bulging with the fervor of death. The one I’d missed backed away, dropping her weapons and raising her hands, horror written across her face. The great monster hissed its disapproval, and cajoled me to paint the sand red.

Take no joy in it.

But I did. Oh, Great Creators, but I did. I wanted to hear the crowd cheer me as my blade cut into this coward, I wanted to feel that electrifying swell rage against my skull.

Take no joy in it.

I raised my sword, grinning manically as she fell to her knees before me, begging for mercy. She was a she-orc, a little younger than myself, her muscle and brawn reduced to fear and piss. She begged, and I laughed. She pleaded, and I readied my strike. She cried, and I… I let her go. I lowered my blade, and she scampered away without a look back. My heart thundered in my throat, and the sickening realization of what I’d almost done settled in my stomach. The pit of guilt was accompanied by a small measure of pride; I hadn’t given in. I’d resisted the temptation. The monster cried its anger, and I felt it wash over me, sweeping away my pride as easily a torrent flushes driftwood. I had defied the crowd, and now they would hate me forever. All for my stupid honor, all for my-

“Astrid!” Tera screamed, “Help!”

Tera had dispatched two humans with ease, but was now wrestling with an ogre, the behemoth three-times the size of her. It roared a deep, terrible tenor as it swung its massive hammer, planting divots in the sand where it fell. Tera dodged and ducked nimbly, her knives stuck in the beast’s breastplate, her hands flailing to touch skin-on-skin. The ogre caught the succubus with a swinging knee, sending her tan form skidding across the sand, and rolling at least ten times before she stopped. He charged after her, hammer raised above him, boots thundering beneath him. He stopped over the wounded woman, readied his hammer behind him, arched his back, let out a great bellow, and then lurched forward with a scream. His massive arms fell to the sand behind him, and his body flung with the sudden loss of weight. My blade caught him before he could crush my fighting partner, and he slid harmlessly down its length, until his sputtering stomach met my cold cross-guard.

The final horn sounded, and the crowd roared, basking me in the monster’s favor once again, forgiving me for my mercy. I raised my face to their cheers, feeling the terrible sound swelling within me, feeling it emboldening me, empowering me. The ogre speared on my sword coughed blood, still alive. He looked up at me, eyes wide in horror and panic, writhing in a singular-minded fervor of desperate survival. He may have lived, or he may not have. It didn’t matter. The monster wanted death, and I would not defy it again. I pulled my blade from his belly, and swung it backhanded over his shoulders, sending his shocked expression into the air, and rolling behind his body. The pitch of the monster’s call rose to a crescendo, and my grin stretched to painful levels.

“Angel! Angel! Angel!” they chanted, their voices punctuated by their stomping feet, their fists thrusting in cadence with their call.

“Angel! Angel! Angel!” the monster beckoned me into its arms, and I embraced it like a lover.

WILLOWBUD

“Holy shit, she’s good.” Angela muttered next to me. The crowd roared above us, stomping and cheering, fighting and fucking in the stands. I loved it. I was shielded from the chaos in my luxury box, level with the arena and below the rabble. Beside me, my split-personality cousin sat at attention, Angela’s blue eyes gleaming from Justina’s face. Before I enslaved her, I could tell Justina was calculating, intelligent and adventurous; all qualities I liked vastly more than the mindless bimbo she was now. Alas, I doubted I’d be able to keep Tera around for long if I freed Justina, so it was a blessing that Justina had two halves; one that I could fuck, and the other that I could speak to intelligently.

“She let one of them go,” I said, leaning back on my couch, “I’ll have to punish her for that.”

“You were going to punish her no matter what,” Angela scowled at me, “don’t make try to bullshit me, Willowbud.”

“Actually, I was going to call it a reward if she performed flawlessly,” I smirked, running my hand down Justina’s bare back, “but I enjoy the disciplinary aspects much more. I think Astrid does as well.”

My hand trailed fingers-first to the supple bulge of my cousin’s backside, and Angela’s blue eyes began to change to Justina’s violet. I sighed, and stopped my leering fingers.

“Why don’t you ever want to play with me?” I asked, pouting my lips mockingly as Angela’s eyes returned.

“Because I fucking hate you.” Angela said, smiling cruelly.

“But that just makes it so much better,” I smirked, caressing her along the small of her back, but not moving down, “hate-sex is the best sex.”

“No-sex is fine with me.” Angela said, turning away.

“You’ll come around,” I chuckled, moving my hand along her spine, “one of these days, I’ll find a way to keep you out. Then I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“I still feel it.” Angela replied, shuddering as my fingers trailed between her shoulders.

“But it’s all filtered through Justina,” I said, “that’s like getting a blowjob with a condom on; it’s just not the same.”

Angela chewed her lip, watching as Astrid picked Tera off the sand, and raised their hands in unison before the crowd. The cheers for ‘Angel’ drowned-out any cheers for ‘Death Kiss,’ and I suspected Astrid was just fine with that.

“They love her.” Angela said, staring at the roiling stands above us.

“And she loves them.” I smiled, watching Astrid bask in the favor of the crowd.

“Why are you making her do this?” Angela asked, turning her blue eyes on me.

“Because it amuses me,” I smiled, my hand clasping the succubus gently about the nape of her neck, “just like you amuse me.”

“Is that all we are to you?” Angela frowned, “Entertainment?”

“You’re my family, dearest cousin,” I chuckled, my thumb rubbing her throat tenderly, “you mean much more to me than that.”

“I’m not so sure.” Angela replied, and then turned her attention back to Astrid. I wasn’t so sure either.

BRANDON

“Your Holiness, I am grateful that you saved my life, but I feel that I should tell you that this is the stupidest fucking thing you could do.” Gloria hissed at me from beneath her veil as I walked purposefully down the street of the Brothel District, the afternoon sun beating on our heads.

“I can’t just do nothing! You saw what happened; Tera almost died out there!” I growled, rounding a corner and nearly running into a pair of street walkers. They gave me leering glares and promiscuous smiles, and I momentarily wondered how much money I had in my purse, before turning my attention to the task at hand.

“Oh?” Gloria hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a skidding stop, her unnatural strength keeping me static, “And just what the fuck are you going to do to The Earth Former? Throw a fucking bird at her?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do!” I snarled, pulling my arm away, “I’m going to spawn a fucking grizzly bear right on top of that cunt, grab Justina and Tera, and get the fuck out of there!”

“Spawn a grizzly bear?” Gloria laughed, “Forgive me, Your Holiness, but you can’t even make a rabbit without sticking a dolphin’s head out of its ass.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect!” I spat, “It just has to be big, heavy, and have a lot of fucking teeth!”

“And then what?” Gloria growled, “Let’s say by some miracle, you manage to kill Willowbud. Who’s going to free Justina then?”

“Then…” I seethed, clenching and unclenching my fists, “then, I figure it out.”

“You really are a genius,” Gloria sneered, “I am truly blessed to be in the service of such an enlightened god.”

“Well,” I shot back, “you’re three-thousand years old; you tell me what to do!”

Gloria’s crimson eyes softened from beneath her veil, and she placed a calming hand on my shoulder.

“Patience,” she smiled, “I would tell you to be patient. Very little good has ever come from brash, violent action.”

“And a whole lot of bad has come from procrastinating.” I muttered, “Sometimes people need to die.”

“Willowbud is a god, Your Holiness,” Gloria lectured softly, “and I cannot allow you to harm her.”

“She didn’t have the same feelings about you.” I scoffed.

“She’s melded to Corruption,” Gloria replied, “her actions are hardly her own. Right now, we need to tread carefully, and hone your skills. Tera is more than capable of handling herself, and your sister can’t die twice. Let them find a balance with their captor, while we figure out something that doesn’t involve you dying.”

“I could take her.” I said, hoping I sounded much more confident than I felt.

“I’m sure you could,” Gloria smirked, clasping her gloved hand in mine, “she’s a seasoned killer with an untold body count, and you’re a farmer who shovels pig shit. I’m sure you would’ve done just fine.”

“I should’ve left you in the street.” I grumbled as Gloria walked me back to her house.

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Gloria’s red eyes smiled suggestively at me, “not after I’ve shown you how grateful I am to you for saving my life. C’mon, my brave, fearsome, pig-shit-shoveling god; let’s go back to my place, and continue your training.”

Gloria was stubborn, Gloria was condescending, and Gloria was certainly grateful. If my teachers in Towerhead lectured me like she did, I wouldn’t have needed Angela to feed me test answers.

“Mmm,” the vampire hummed delectably, her red lips pulling my nipple from my chest in a chorus of wet slurps, her crimson eyes smiling up at me, her pale form cast in the scarlet hue of her home’s torchlight, “focus, Your Holiness; what is it you want to create?”

“Ah, shit,” I moaned as her cool fingers stroked my curved-back cock to new levels of arousal, causing it pulse in her soft hand, “I… uh… I want to make a fox.”

“Ambitious,” Gloria grinned, displaying white fangs from the lush outline of her mouth, “picture it in your mind.”

I tried, I really did, but it was damned hard to picture anything when my vision was filled with Gloria. Her luxuriantly-curled black hair was tossed to the side and tickling my ribs, her luscious, red lips were quirked beneath her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, her pale, voluptuous body was pressed to mine, and her slit was leaking its desire against my trembling thigh. She had on a corset that barely contained her bulging bosom, and fishnet stockings that clung to her thighs so tightly, her succulent flesh was protruding from the netting.

“Focus…” she hissed, one crimson eye closing in a knowing wink, “make me a perfect, little fox, and I’ll let you do anything to me. You know I will; you know I’ll love it.”

Goddamn it, I thought, desperately trying to remember what the fuck a fox even was, my mind was so preoccupied, bushy tail… orange fur… are they cats? No, they’re dogs. Pointed ears… white highlights… Angela stroking me, her breath on my lips, her breasts on my chest, her…

“Am I distracting you?” Gloria smirked, her red tongue circling my nipple, and trailing lower.

“Your fucking witchcraft is,” I groaned, “I would really like it if you un-fucked my mind.”

“Having dirty thought about your sister, hmm?” Gloria chuckled, tongue sliding lower and lower, a trail of saliva sheening my abdomen, “Sorry, Your Holiness, but the change is permanent. You can pretend I’m her, if it helps.”

“God, I fucking hate you.” I grumbled as Gloria’s playful mouth moved to my pelvis.

“You can show me just how much you hate me,” Gloria giggled, stopping just before my shaft, “once you make me a new pet.”

Her lips hovered just above my tip, her breath blowing gently on the froth of precum at its apex, her eyes smiling teasingly from the black outline of her eyeshadow. A single, elegant finger ran up my length, brushing along every bump and vein, and then sliding back down, caressing me, petting me. Another finger moved into the lacing of her corset, and freed her breasts in a wonderful jiggle. They pillowed against my pelvis, pressed on all sides of my shaft, and enveloped all but the last inch of my length. Gloria’s cheeks went gaunt in a girlish pursing of her lips, and she poked her tongue from the glistening trap of her mouth, and began tortuously licking my throbbing head.

“Oh, goddamn it!” I growled in frustration. There was no way I was getting anything done with this level of distraction.

“You’re doing it all wrong.” Gloria smiled, “Stop trying to paint it in your head. You can’t think something alive; you need to birth it from your soul. Feel me, let my pleasure guide you, and let the life flow naturally from your mind.”

I let my mind grow blank (it wasn’t hard), and relaxed, letting transient thought take over. Gloria wrapped her lips about my tip, and pushed her palms against her breasts, squishing them about my throbbing cock. I marveled at the sensation of her warm, malleable flesh enveloping me, her breasts rising and falling with her pressing hands, massaging me with softness as her lips rotated, and her tongue slid down. Wet warmth surrounded me as her chin separated her encasing bosom, and soft heat replaced it as her mouth moved up, and her breasts moved together. Then, it was there. Perfect as could be, right in the center of my mind. I let the image flow from my cognizance and into the world, and the pet fox Gloria desired glowed an ethereal blue, and then materialized before us. It gave us each a confused look, and then padded to the corner, and curled into a ball.

“A deal’s a deal, Gloria.” I smirked, petting her hair.

“So, it is,” Gloria’s low, sultry voice sang out, her half-mast eyes telling me she was ready for anything, “well done. How do you want me?”

“I want you…” I said, teasing her lips with a thumb, and smiling as she sucked it, “to help me get into The Screeching Siren to contact Angela.”

Gloria’s seductive gaze narrowed to slits, her playful smirk thinned to a frown, and her grip on my cock grew a little too tight.

“You said anything!” I exclaimed.

“I meant that you could stick your fist in my ass, or something,” Gloria growled, “I didn’t mean assist you with your suicide!”

“Am I not your god?!” I yelled, my pitch a little too high as Gloria’s grip grew tighter. She somehow managed to narrow her eyes even more. Her nose wrinkled in a sneer with her curling lip, and then she sighed, and released me.

“Yes,” she mumbled begrudgingly, “you are.”

“So, you’ll help me?” I asked. Gloria bit her lip, a shining fang protruding threateningly. She nodded, and I smiled. I can’t believe that worked.

“Don’t be too pleased with yourself, Your Holiness,” Gloria said, retightening her grip around my cock, “the tradeoff is that now, I get to do whatever I want to you.”

“I don’t remember making that deal!” I squeaked as Gloria wetted two fingers between sucking lips.

“I don’t give a shit.” She smiled cruelly, spreading my ass cheeks open with a splayed hand as she slid her sheened fingers down my taint.

“I am your god!” I said, struggling helplessly, “and I demand you to-”

“You’re my bitch,” Gloria sneered, arousal and malevolence mixing in her crimson regard, “now moan like one.”

It wasn’t very hard for Gloria to make me her bitch. She pushed her middle and ring fingers against the tight aperture of my sphincter, smirked at me a final time, and then drove both digits to the bottom knuckle, and that was it; I was her little bitch. Her elegant penetrators slid through the tight channel of my backdoor, curled against my prostate, and massaged me slowly, maliciously, making me moan like a little man-slut and thrust pathetically into the air.

“Look at you,” Gloria whispered, her eyes brimming with lustful control, “a divinity of infinite power, reduced to a whimpering, anal whore with just two fingers. Tera’s not here to save you now, little brother.”

“Don’t start that shit again!” I groaned, rocking on my heels without meaning to. Gloria’s fingers moved in and out gradually, making me feel every curve of her knuckles, and every line of her prints. She stretched me out gently, and pressed tenderly against my internal organ, moving back and forth until it twitched with sporadic pleasure, forcing my cock to pulse with tortuous need.

“Oh, you don’t like incest-play?” Gloria cooed softly, reveling in her power, stroking me possessively with her other hand, “Because I know you do, Your Holiness; I know you love the idea of plowing into your innocent, twin sister. Can you imagine what Willowbud is doing to her now? She might not be so innocent when you meet her. She might be an anal slut just like her beloved brother.”

“Shut up!” I yelled, though I couldn’t stop myself from moaning it through trembling lips, I couldn’t stop myself from shifting and thrusting in the air, I couldn’t stop myself from clenching around Gloria’s penetrating fingers.

“Did that upset you?” Gloria laughed, “I’m sorry, Your Holiness; I’ll be a gentle mistress now. You just do what I tell you, and I’ll make everything better.”

Gloria slid her body upward, arching her back, looming over me in a graceful curve, a twisted grin corrupting her lush lips. She turned around and straddled me, displaying her leaking slit between fishnet-clad thighs of pale, jiggling succulence, and the tight, pink spokes of her winking anus. The supple domes of her backside neared me, rotating teasingly with the rotation of her penetrating digits, her body defiling me in congruence. Her cheeks enveloped my face, and my nose was filled with the tang of her intoxicating femininity. My lips pressed to her taint, and her lips pressed to my tip. I let myself relax beneath her, give in to her, become hers completely. I wanted to be under her control; I wanted to feel what my mistress would do to me. She bent her penetrating fingers at the middle knuckle, pressing her joints into my sensitive flesh as her fingertips pushed against my prostate, causing my cock to engorge to agonizing levels. I groaned my pathetic need, my hips thrusting weakly, my hands gripping the fatty domes that filled my vision, and spreading. My tongue circled her pink spokes, tasting the delicious sin of her wrong hole. She encouraged me to continue with a deepening of her penetration, her pinky and forefinger stabbing gently into my thighs with the force of her push. All I could do was comply. I wrapped my lips around the twitching center of her rim, and pushed my tongue between them. She opened up to me with the uncoiling resistance I desired, and her delicious, filthy flavor filled my mouth, encasing my tongue on all sides in tender, wet flesh, which pulsed faintly with the fluttering cadence of her heart. Her pussy leaked its approving nectar onto my chin, and I placated it with caressing fingers, marveling how my digits wettened through her delicate petals. Her lips finally rewarded me for my subservience, and my gothic mistress consumed me in a gurgling dive. Her tongue slid on the top of my shaft, and her upper-lip wrapped around its underside, her nose pressing into the loose flesh of my sack. She smelled me indulgently, wafting in the scent of my loins, milking my hormones from my massaged prostate as my balls quaked in pleasure. Her throat constricted around me, and she swallowed continuously, causing me to groan into her filthy depths. I sucked her rim as I pushed deeper, exploring her tight reaches with brazen curiosity, searching for the spot that would drop her pelvis like a hammer to an anvil. I found it, and she reacted beautifully. I could practically feel her eyes rolling into her head as her ass tried to swallow my face.

Her thighs pressed against the sides of my head, trapping in me in a delightful pillow of pale fat. She shifted her hips upward, satisfied with my work, and beckoning me to continue lower. I pulled my tongue and lips from her ass, now sheened with my spit and slightly swollen with my sucks, and left her momentarily vacant. She expressed her disapproval with a sharp twisting of her fingers, causing me to lurch upward, and almost blow my entire being into her continuously-swallowing throat. I apologized with a passionate kiss upon her taint, tasting the mixture of her two holes, and I corrected my mistake by pushing two fingers from each hand into her wetted rim, and stretching her open. She hummed around my cock and rotated her lips about my base, rewarding me for doing what she desired as her body relaxed in satisfaction atop mine. My nose dragged along the convulsing stretch of her taint as my lips found the frothing slit beneath it. I ran my tongue through the tender length of her lower lips, their petals giving way to me and releasing the reservoir of need that dribbled from her lust. I tasted the sweet syrup of her desire, and took her reddened folds into my mouth, sucking gently as my tongue slid against her ceiling, seeking out her weak spot. I found it easily enough, as Gloria’s thighs tried to tear my head off, and I zeroed in on it, tortured it mercilessly, sliding my wet, invading member across its length without reprieve. The middle and ring fingers of both my hands began methodically stretching my mistress’s anus gaping, sending convulsions down her fleshy internal division as my tongue worked the vampire into a writhe of shifting hips and gyrating abdomen. She reciprocated by moving her penetrating fingers in and out, never pulling all the way, but dragging them along the stretch of my internal organ, causing it to convulse and pulse with imminent release. Her mouth moved passionately along the length of my engorged shaft, sucking with squelching tightness, her lips stretching from her face and her cheeks growing gaunt. She hummed around me, the tenor of her voice growing in pitch with each motion of my tongue, each knuckle of my fingers, and each inch of her expanding gape. I began to thrust chaotically into her, unable to control my masculine instincts, compelled like a puppet by her invading digits. She took me all the way into her throat, her voice carrying her gagging euphoria, her free hand pushing me upward by the glutes, trapping me into her mouth. Her pussy began to spurt and twitch against my lips, her anus began to wink and clench around my fingers, her abdomen began to ripple with her ascension. I growled into her depths and she screamed around my throat, and the boiling of my loins accompanied the churning of her nethers. We stiffened against one another, our muffled voices screeching our ascension, and we exploded our release into each other’s mouths. I felt my prostate empty in felicitous relief as I erupted down my mistress’s throat, and I tasted the flood of her climax as it filled my mouth and dribbled down my chin. We hummed mutual tones of delight as our bodies writhed in the final motions of our lust, and then relaxed languidly in a heap of sweat and satisfaction.

“You did it again.” Gloria laughed, her voice punctuated by breathy expulsions.

“What?” I asked as her ass left my face, strings of her sticky nectar snapping from my lips. I looked around, and saw that I had once again, turned Gloria’s room into a garden. Vines and stalks, flowers and vegetables littered the floor, and in the middle of it all, stood a perfect, very confused-looking buck.

“Wow,” I said, marveling at the majestic creature I had formed from nothing, “look at that!”

“He’s beautiful.” Gloria smiled back at me, languidly pulling herself from my body. She stepped cautiously toward the animal, her hand outstretched, her gait careful and unthreatening. She placed a gentle palm on its flank and pet it, her black hair tumbling behind her as she gazed wondrously into its proud face. The deer closed its eyes and bent demurely for the vampire, and she grabbed it swiftly by the antlers, and snapped its neck in less than a second.

“What the fuck!” I yelled angrily.

“I thought you’d made me dinner, Your Holiness,” Gloria smiled with faux-innocence as she guided the dead animal to the floor, “did I misinterpret your intention? I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do that?!” I exclaimed.

“Would you prefer that I hunt instead?” Gloria asked as she ran her fingers along the buck’s neck, searching for the vein, “Would you like me to lure unsuspecting men and women back to my abode, and watch as I drain them of life? It’s a little kinky, but if that’s what Your Holiness wants of me…”

“No.” I said, gulping. I’d forgotten what Gloria was, and I had the nagging feeling that were I not a Creator, I probably would be lunch.

“I didn’t think so.” Gloria smiled as she lowered her fangs to the buck’s throat. There was something oddly alluring about watching her feed. Her pupils dilated until her crimson eyes were nearly black, her elegant neck tensed as it swallowed, and her fingers pet the corpse covetously, almost tenderly, as she drank. When I fucked Gloria, I was fucking an apex predator, a killing-machine that had lived for thousands of years by sucking the life from unsuspecting boys like me. The danger turned me on, and Gloria could tell. She watched me as she fed, and the ravenous look she gave me was wrought with a hunger of two kinds. I guessed we could continue my training today; Tera, Justina and Angela could wait until tomorrow.

TERA

I could cut her throat right now. I thought as I watched Willowbud’s naked chest rise and fall with her sleeping breaths, It would be so easy.

The morning sun shined a dusty beam through the window, bathing the four of us in a gentle glow. Astrid shifted noisily across the bed, her feathered wings acting as a blanket for her mistress, and her new succubus peers. She nestled her naked body against my daughter, and Justina smiled in her sleep, and scooched her naked, teenage form deeper into the Valkyrie’s embrace.

She almost looks like herself right now, I thought grimly as I watched my daughter, but once she opens her eyes, it’s not her. It’s either Angela, or a mindless whore, but not my Justina. I glanced up at Willowbud, And that’s why she feels so safe with me; the arrogant bitch is lording her control over me, daring me to do something. She knows I won’t; she knows she has me.

“Good morning, Tera,” Willowbud said, her eyes still closed, “thinking about slitting my throat?”

“Are you a mind reader now?” I laughed humorlessly.

“It doesn’t take much conjecture to know what you’re thinking,” Willowbud smiled sleepily, eyes opening to slits, “but I’m patient; you’ll come around to my side eventually.”

“As long as my daughter is your slave,” I said, shifting against my niece, pressing my naked body to hers, “I’ll always want to kill you.”

“Angela isn’t affected by my slavery,” Willowbud said, turning her body over, pressing her flaccid cock against my inner thigh, “you still have half your daughter.”

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t know how long Angela could keep up the façade of her origin, but I feared it wouldn’t be long until she slipped-up, and Justina spilled the beans about Brandon to her new master. Gods only knew what Willowbud would do if she discovered there was another Creator in Drastin.

“Astrid needs to be punished for letting that girl go in the arena yesterday,” Willowbud smiled, brushing my hair from my eyes, “I’d like you to be her torturer today.”

“Why would I do that?” I asked, unable to stop myself from pressing deeper into her, unable to resist the touch of her lust.

“Because I asked you to,” Willowbud said softly, “and because I want to see how sadistic a five-hundred-year-old seductress can be.”

“Maybe you should take her place,” I smirked, running a thumb over her lush lips, “then you could know for yourself.”

“I don’t doubt that you’d have me begging in my own filth,” Willowbud chuckled, “but that’s not really my thing.”

“And what is your thing?” I asked, crossing my bronze thigh over her caramel leg, bringing our crotches together.

“I like to transform people,” Willowbud whispered into my open mouth, her lips brushing against mine, “I like to watch them succumb to their worst selves.”

“And what’s my worst self?” I breathed, my heart fluttering as her cock began to engorge between my legs.

“I don’t know,” Willowbud breathed back, her expirations becoming heavy, her eyes sliding to half-lidded desire, “but I’d love to find out.”

She pulled away from me, sat up, and leapt from the foot of the bed. I gawked at her in disbelief, and she laughed at my disappointment.

“You can show Astrid,” Willowbud chuckled, pulling on a pair of tight-fitting trousers, “when you punish her for our beloved patrons’ entertainment. Wake up, Astrid!”

Astrid stretched and groaned sleepily, expanding her wings and arching her back. She pulled Justina closer to her, and nuzzled her face into my daughter’s neck, closing her eyes tightly like a child who doesn’t want to get out of bed for school. Justina’s eyes opened, and her violet gaze immediately turned to Angela’s blue as consciousness took hold. She scooched her body deeper in Astrid’s naked form, and stubbornly pulled a feathered wing over the both of them.

“Go away, Willowbud!” Angela called exhaustedly, “You had us up all night!”

“Please, Mistress,” Astrid groaned, “just give us another hour.”

“Tera’s your mistress today, Astrid,” Willowbud said, pulling on a shirt, “and if you don’t do as she says, I’m sealing your asshole with hot candle wax. Now get up!”

Willowbud lit a cigarette between her lips and walked out of the room, leaving her three captives alone on the bed. Astrid’s wings shifted in a cocoon around Angela and herself, pulling the Life Giver’s dead sister into a protective hold. I supposed Justina looked enough like Willowbud that Astrid liked to pretend it was her, before she was melded with Corruption. It was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking, and it made me incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of abusing her.

“Astrid?” I asked softly, scooching across the bed. Her wings parted slightly, revealing two blue eyes between the feathers.

“Yes… Mistress?” Astrid asked, her voice small.

“Don’t call me that.” I said, putting a gentle hand on her wing, making sure my seductive touch was turned off. The bed we were on was plush and soft, undoubtedly cushioned enough to prevent our voices from vibrating against the stone floor it rested upon, and into Willowbud’s ears. I listened for the sounds of Willowbud making breakfast in the kitchen, and then brought my face close to Astrid and Angela’s.

“Have you guys made any progress with Corruption?” I whispered.

“No,” Angela whispered back, snuggling her head between Astrid’s ample breasts, “I’ve been searching Justina’s memories for books on astral beings, but she doesn’t know much about Sentients.”

I thought about correcting Angela, but I decided against it; the girl didn’t need to know the truth about Corruption, or herself. Not yet.

“When did you see her last?” Astrid asked, petting Justina’s hair from Angela’s face, and embracing the succubus affectionately.

“Just now,” Angela said, smiling up at the Valkyrie, “when Willowbud threatened to seal your anus shut; I don’t think she would have said that without Corruption. Astrid, your tits are really comfy.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Astrid smiled warmly back, “Mistress used to put her head there and sleep, before… you know…” she trailed off, her face dropping into one of melancholy. My heart ached just a bit more.

“Astrid,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I promise that I’ll be gentle with you today. No whips and chains; just you and the crowd. You can do a little dance for them or something.”

“No whips and chains?” Astrid asked, “That’s… that’s nice, I guess. Thank you, Tera.”

Astrid was as naked with her emotions as any woman I’d known, and the expression of disappointment painted across her face was as vivid as could be. She so badly wanted to retain her status as the honorable winged-warrior, but she couldn’t deny her newfound masochism. I giggled at her attempt to seem pleased with my mercy, and cupped her endearingly on the cheek.

“Of course,” I smiled into her blue eyes, “I could tie you down and whip you until you piss yourself in front of half the city.”

Astrid bit her lip, an excited smile stretching across her mouth. She would never say she wanted it that way, but she didn’t have to. At this rate, Willowbud would have the Astrid she wanted in no time at all, and I couldn’t say that I didn’t like her better this way. I grinned back. This was going to be fun.

BRANDON

For the better part of last night, Gloria and I had wracked our brains to find a way of contacting Angela without being detected by Willowbud. We eventually decided that the best way to do it, was to simply walk in. I would reprise the role I’d lived my entire life (just some fucking guy), and my near-magical ability to be the most ignorable person on earth would allow me to pose as a patron in Willowbud’s brothel. We stopped in front of The Screeching Siren, and Gloria put her hands on my shoulders and turned me around

“Ok,” Gloria sighed, handing me the astral gemstones, “tell me what you’re going to do.”

“First, I find Justina,” I said, reciting the plan for the tenth time, “I wait for an opportunity, and then approach her when Willowbud is far away.”

“And then?” Gloria asked, handing me a small sack.

“I put these pin cushions under the barstool so that Willowbud can’t hear what I’m saying.” I replied, stuffing the sack of pin cushions in my pocket.

“And then?”

“I tell Angela to get Tera to wear the gemstones as earrings,” I said, picturing the plan in my mind, “I tell her that they’re astral communicators, and I tell her how to use them.”

“And then?” Gloria asked, placing a gemstone in the piercing she’d made behind my left ear, and placing another one in her own.

“I try not to shit myself.” I replied grimly.

“You’ll do fine,” she whispered as she disheveled my hair, unbuttoned my shirt, and unzipped my fly, making me look like a drunk patron, “just smile stupidly and stagger when you walk, and no one will pay you any heed.”

“And if they do?” I asked, “What happens if Willowbud notices me?”

“Well,” Gloria shrugged, “try shitting yourself; that might get her to leave you alone.”

“You’re very helpful.” I grumbled, feeling my nerves stand on edge.

“I’d love to help you, Your Holiness,” Gloria said, taking wine from a flask and spilling it on my shirt, “but I’m supposed to be dead, and Willowbud might start asking very pointed questions if you’re found walking with a dead woman. You’ve made your bed, now fucking sleep in it. Dumbass.”

Gloria spun me around, gave me an encouraging smack on the ass, and pushed me through the doorway. My ears were immediately assaulted with loud, thumping music, the roar of cheers and applause, and the moans and screams of lust. Tera was standing center-stage, her body wrapped in shining, black leather with holes cut for her bronze breasts and ass, her onyx hair pulled into a pony tail, one leather-gloved hand holding a whip aloft, the other cupping her ear to encourage the crowd. Behind her, the Valkyrie was strapped spread-eagle to a cross in the shape of an ‘X;’ her arms bound at the wrists and held above her, her legs bound at the ankles and spread below her, splaying her naked, voluptuous form for all to see. Her wings spread resplendently behind her, contrasting the display of depravity her body was forced into. Tera waited until the crowd was worked into a frenzy, and then raised the whip, and slashed it viciously across Astrid’s breasts. The whip indented the succulent flesh of Astrid’s bosom, rippling it with waves that permeated from the blow, leaving a thin, red mark in their wake. Astrid screamed and arched her back, her arms and legs straining from their binds, her leaking slit telling every witness that she loved the abuse. Her head dropped between her shoulders, sending a tumble of braided, blonde hair in front of her face, her back heaving with the fervent breaths of her lust. Tera strutted over to Astrid, her tail wagging behind her, a malevolent smile curved across her purple lips. She grabbed Astrid by the hair, yanked her face upward, and made the Valkyrie lick the whip from handle to tip, which she did with the utmost lechery. I’d always heard that Valkyries were noble, dignified creatures, but whatever nobility Astrid once had was long gone. She stared up at Tera with begging eyes, her body arching from the cross, pleading desperately for more. Tera gave it to her. The whip snapped across Astrid’s breasts, abdomen and thighs, creating crisscrossing welts all along her pristine complexion, each crack of the whip accompanied by a scream of pain and delight, and then a trailing whimper that turned into a moan. Tera roped the whip around Astrid’s neck, and then produced a set of clamps, displaying them for the audience, and the disgraced Valkyrie. She opened each of the metal contraptions, and smiled cruelly into Astrid’s pleading face as she closed them about her erect nipples, and twisted. Astrid’s head flung back, and a shriek of abject ecstasy sung from her lips, drowning-out the roar of the crowd as they watched her piss an arc of golden lust upon the stage.

I moved my attention from the depravity and slinked through the crowd, hoping that Tera wouldn’t see me, but if she did, that she wouldn’t react. I searched each face, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the eye contact of some, until I found who I was looking for.

Justina was sitting at the bar; her petite breasts laid bare, her skirt hiked past her hips, her black hair tossed to one side, her violet eyes rolled up, and her purple lips sucking Willowbud Autumnsong’s cock. So, this was The Earth Former. Willowbud was a nymph with pure-white hair, ivory horns, rich, caramel skin, facial features that practically mirrored her cousin’s, and a body of slender femininity; save for the penis that stood erect between her legs. She was a small girl, barely five-feet tall, but there was something intrinsically dangerous about her. It wasn’t just the knowledge that she was a god melded to a Sentient, but her demeanor in general. She watched Justina with slight amusement, and then slid her eyes lazily around the brothel, seeming to assess everything and everyone with a bored glare. Her green irises suddenly connected with mine, and I tore my gaze away, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I fumbled with my shirt, trying to appear casual, and risked a glance upward. Willowbud wasn’t looking at me any longer, but instead watching the spectacle in the middle of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief, then walked with fake drunkenness to the side of the room, trying to blend into the shadows, waiting for my chance. After a few minutes, the soft sounds of Willowbud’s escalating moans reached my ear, and I watched as her cum dripped from Justina’s mouth, and oozed down her shaft. Justina dutifully licked her master clean, and then swallowed it all, opening her mouth wide so that Willowbud could confirm it. Willowbud smirked at the girl, gave her a possessive kiss on the lips, then pulled up her trousers, hopped off her stool, and disappeared into the crowd. I waited another minute, then took a deep breath, and made my way to the bar.

“Hey, blondie,” a soft voice said from behind me, a small hand grabbing my waistband, “I caught you looking, didn’t I?”

Oh, fuck. I froze in place, my body going rigid, my hair standing on edge. I swallowed, and turned slowly around. The Earth Former stared up at me with playfulness glinting in her black eyes, and danger shining from her crooked smirk.

“Sorry,” I managed to mumble, “I just…”

“You’ve just never seen a woman with a cock before.” Willowbud chuckled, sliding her hand around my waistband until it rested above my open fly.

“No.” I gulped, barely keeping my voice from breaking.

“Tell me, blondie,” Willowbud said, her lips quirking, “is it bigger than yours?”

“Do you want to find out?” were the words that somehow came out of my mouth. I assumed those were going to be my last words, and anticipated my violent death, but Willowbud’s eyes only twinkled, and her smirk gaped into an appraising smile.

“Do you know who I am, boy?” she asked, her other hand joining the one holding my waistband.

“Night Eyes,” I said, looking down at her, not daring to blink, “I know who you are.” I know what you are.

“Well, blondie,” Willowbud chuckled, unbuttoning my pants, “I’ve got to see the horse cock you must be packing to match those balls of yours.”

Willowbud pulled my pants down aggressively, and by the glint in her eyes, I guessed I didn’t disappoint. She wrapped a set of cool fingers around my base, and another set below my tip, and watched as it engorged in her hands. She looked up at me, her lush lips creased in a crooked grin.

Well, I thought, my heart thundering in my chest, carpe diem, I guess.

I grabbed Willowbud by the hips, pulled her small body up, and pressed her against the wall. She giggled as my fingers fumbled with her fly, pulled off her belt, and dragged her pants past her knees. Thankfully, Willowbud was not rocking a dong, because I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with it. She was entirely female, and her womanhood was a sweet, tight thing. She gasped as I pushed every inch of myself into her leaking slit, and I groaned as her wet heat surrounded me, clenching on all sides. My pelvis met hers, my tip found her bottom, and we moaned in mutual satisfaction. She fit like a fucking glove.

“Oh shit, blondie,” Willowbud gasped, her breath filling my mouth, “you know how to sling it, don’t you?”

“I know all kinds of things.” I groaned, pulling her shirt off as she raised her arms, exposing her cute breasts and richly-toned abdomen.

“You get around, huh?” Willowbud smiled, unbuttoning my shirt, “I could find a job for you if you want one. A cute thing like you could make me a nice profit.”

“No,” I said through heavy breaths as my chest squished against her breasts, feeling them flatten and deform, their nipples poking into my pecs, “I give it away for free.”

“Then give it to me!” she gasped, and I did. I tangled a hand into her white hair and pulled her into a kiss, pushing my tongue between her open lips as I pushed my cock between her open legs. Her ankles locked together behind me and pressed into my ass, her legs clenching around my waist and pulling me deeper inside. Her tongue wrestled with mine, entangling in lustful combat as her body shifted up and down against the wall. My cock traveled through her slick insides with increasing force, and she coiled her lewdness around me welcomingly. We broke from the kiss in a chorus of panting breaths, staring into each other’s eyes, smiling in shared lust.

“You know,” Willowbud moaned, pressing her hands to the wall behind her for leverage, “you remind me of someone.”

“Guess I’m not the only one who gets around.” I smirked, driving hard between her legs, feeling her thighs jiggling against mine with the force of my thrusts.

“Are you calling me a slut?” Willowbud grinned, her neck striating with tension as a contraction of pleasure tore up her abdomen.

“You’re the easiest fuck I’ve ever had.” I groaned through smiling lips, driving so hard Willowbud was bouncing off the wall.

“I’ve killed people for less, blondie.” Willowbud laughed, breathy moans punctuating her mirth.

“I’m sure you have,” I grinned, watching her face slackening in pleasure, watching her sharp eyes softening in the heat of my passion, “but you’re not going to kill me.”

“And why’s that?” Willowbud moaned, her smile gone, her eyebrows furrowing in concentrative ecstasy, her lips parting to a gaping circle.

“Because I’m too good for you to kill,” I growled, planting both hands onto Willowbud’s caramel-colored ass, and squeezing until my fingers were lost in her succulent meat, “and even though you like pussy, Night Eyes, you’re still a woman, and nothing beats great dick, does it?”

“Don’t push me, asshole,” Willowbud panted, her tones exerted and rough, her body slickening with sweat, “I can get better than you in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” I breathed into her ear, driving her against the wall, feeling her pussy leaking between her thighs with approval, feeling her insides clench gratefully, feeling her lewd lips grip their fleshy hold around my stretching girth and suck me in with lecherous avarice.

“No,” Willowbud moaned softly, her tone bordering on astonishment, “you’re different.”

I spun us from the wall and laid Willowbud on the table, grabbing her thighs and spreading them wide, letting her rest her heels on my shoulders. She wasn’t just moaning and panting, but crying out now, trying to contain it, but unable to. Sweet tones of feminine vulnerability sung from her lush lips, and her black eyes widened and lolled in their sockets. Her caramel complexion was slick with her sweat and reddened at the cheeks, stomach and neck, straining with the exertion of the pleasure that was taking her. She planted her palms on the table and brought her body upward, lifting her entire back from its surface so that her torso was level with her penetration. She slid her legs under my arms, bent them at the knee, and anchored her heels onto the table’s edge, giving her leverage to thrust back against me. She slammed her pelvis into mine, cries of abject pleasure flowing from her lips with each collision, her hips holding us connected for an indulgent moment; rotating and grinding, wrapping her tight channel around my ruinous girth, savoring the way I stretched her open. I laid my body atop hers and took a nipple into my mouth, drawing her delectable flesh between my lips, feeling her soft breast stretch and deform from the suction. She dropped her head behind her shoulders and moaned a drawn-out, wining tenor that escalated with each thrust of my hips, her body lurching beneath me, shifting back and forth about the axis of her straightened arms. I planted a palm onto the table and wrapped a forearm around the small of her back, letting her arms have a reprieve, and trapping her body against mine, feeling glistening, soft warmth melding into my clenching abdomen. I tenderly sucked the sweet node of her breast as I violently hammered into her, her insides churning with the precursors of her climax.

“Oh fuck, blondie!” Willowbud screamed, “Don’t fucking stop!”

I didn’t. Willowbud’s arms gave out, and we fell onto the table, her knees bending sharply, her calves connecting with her hamstrings. She splayed her bent legs wide, her body beckoning me to violate her, begging me to drive deeper into her sanctity, to touch the precious reaches of her lust. My back flexed and clenched with my raging motions, the table creaked and shook beneath us, a foreboding cadence to Willowbud’s escalating melody. She grabbed my ass and squeezed, pulling me forward, her mouth exalting into my ear, her heart fluttering against my chest. She massaged me with the muscles of her erogeneity; rolling motions that drew me into her, rewarding me for each thrust, and fighting me for each retreat. Her reddened petals were glistening with her lustful secretion and stretching from her as I pulled out, her pelvic floor protruding with them, her nethers trying to keep me trapped inside. Her bent legs were quivering in their splayed position, her body was squirming beneath my compressing weight, her lips were expiring fluctuating cries, their intensity increasing as I thrusted. I tangled my hands in her fine, white hair, pulled her head back and stared into her eyes, savoring her vulnerable expression, watching as she surrendered to me. It wasn’t just her that was losing it; she was driving me crazy, making me move with the violence she wanted, making give her every inch I had to give. Our lips connected below our locked gaze, and we exalted the tones of our orgasm into each other’s sucking mouths; muffled tenors that rose to soprano, shrill with passion, desperate with need. We heaved, shifted, screamed, and came. My loins boiled-over with pressure, my balls quaked with pleasure, and I erupted into The Earth Former’s womb and filled her to capacity. She writhed beneath me, assaulted by wave after wave of her crashing climax, her body twisting to every blast of euphoria that raged within her.

I managed to hold-in the blue, ethereal light that would have shown from my flesh, but I couldn’t stop everything. I heard a score of wings flapping from the roof as a murder of crows materialized from nowhere. It wasn’t subtle, but I supposed I should’ve been glad a flock of geese didn’t shoot out of my ass. Willowbud was even worse at hiding her pleasured reaction. The entire brothel shook with a shallow earthquake, causing dust to fall from the rafters and soft-hearted patrons to scream.

“Perfect timing.” I chuckled between recovering breaths. Willowbud laughed with me, the glint of a secret in her eyes; a secret I knew all-too well.

“What’s your name, blondie?” Willowbud smiled.

“Brandon.” I said, figuring it wouldn’t matter if she knew.

“Brandon,” she smiled, seeming to test the name in her mouth, “yeah, you look like a Brandon.”

“I don’t know what that means.” I said, grinning confusedly.

“That’s because you’re blonde,” Willowbud smirked, poking my nose, “don’t let it trouble your wonderful, little mind.”

“You’re blonder than me, Night Eyes,” I grinned, pulling out of her and rolling over, “shit, you’re so blonde it’s not even yellow.”

“It’s actually white hair,” Willowbud said dramatically, trailing her hands through her fine strands, “it shows that I am wise and experienced.”

“Oh, you certainly are experienced.” I muttered, deliberately loud enough for her to hear. Willowbud gaped her mouth in mock indignation and slapped me playfully. I grabbed her hand before she could deliver another, and forced my face to hers, melting the nymph in my kiss. She resisted for a second, and then gave in; her mouth curving in a smile as it opened against mine. When we parted, her gaze was wrought with intrigue and a hint of wonder. Apparently, not many men had this effect on her, so… yay for me.

“What are you doing tonight, Brandon?” Willowbud asked.

“I was-”

“That was a rhetorical question.” Willowbud interrupted with a chuckle, resting on her side, displaying the rich, slender beauty of her soft curves, her big eyes smiling with her lush lips. She was such a harmless looking thing, looking at me like that. The unknowing viewer would think she was little more than a blossoming woman, enamored with a young man, but I knew better. The danger played across her twinkling, black eyes, and the threat tainted her otherwise-girlish smile. There was no way to refuse her, and if I was being honest, I didn’t want to. I was going to ask Willowbud out.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, playing her game.

“Oh, I’ve got some things…” Willowbud said casually, checking her nails, “are you a fan of The Pit?”

“I’ve never been.” I lied.

“Well, if you want to tag along,” Willowbud smirked, trailing a finger down my chest, “I guess I’ll pop your cherry.”

ANGELA

The moment I saw Brandon, I leapt into action. I walked Justina off the bar, grabbed a patron, and led him to the closet, hoping he would keep my succubus host occupied for the time I needed. I didn’t know what the fuck my brother was thinking, but he was risking everything by coming here. Didn’t he know the only reason I was staying inside Justina was to keep her from blathering about him to Willowbud? Not only did the dumbass walk right into the tiger’s den, but now he was fucking the goddamn tiger!

I darted out of Justina’s body and hovered behind Brandon’s thrusting back, waiting for the inevitable shit to hit the fan, but it never did. Brandon; my awkward, lanky brother who possessed all the charisma of a cum-sock, was seducing Willowbud. He was throwing out lines I would never have thought of, and working The Earth Former into a frenzy of feminine lust. He’d grown so much since his days of blundering through awkward dates, and now he was having a threesome, though he didn’t know it. I could hardly believe my own eyes.

Brandon wasn’t just fucking Willowbud, but Corruption as well. The Sentient stared into his eyes like a lover, caressing his face with her ethereal fingers, moaning in congruence with her host. She arched her back and exalted her pleasure, her black eyes rolling into her head, her hips twisting about the axis of Brandon’s penetration, moving with a sinuous lechery that was hellish in its perversion. Willowbud was possessed with the pleasure that compelled Corruption, enslaved by the euphoria of her melded parasite. I saw Willowbud show genuine vulnerability for the first time; her body bending to the will of my brother’s, her expression that of surrendered passion, her cries weak and needful. Corruption gave Brandon the key that unlocked Willowbud’s feminine lust, and Brandon turned it for all it was worth. After the two gods orgasmed, both doing passable jobs of hiding their powers, Corruption receded back into Willowbud, her face etched in blissful satisfaction. Willowbud coerced Brandon into asking her out, then they exchanged a final kiss, and went their separate ways; Willowbud to Astrid and Tera, and Brandon to the bar where Justina had been.

“Hey, asshole!” I snarled in my brother’s ear, causing him to spin around, eyes growing wide, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Brandon stared at me with mouth agape, a strange expression lingering on his face. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, pulling him from his stupor. He held up a delaying hand, reached down, and placed four pin cushions beneath each of the barstool’s feet, muting whoever sat in it from Willowbud’s vibration-detecting hearing. Smart.

“Why aren’t you inside Justina?” Brandon whispered, trying to appear casual as he ordered a drink.

“I had to ditch her in the closet once I saw you bumping uglies with a psychotic deity,” I growled, sitting next to him, even though my ethereal figure couldn’t really ‘sit’ on anything, “just what in the fuck was that?!”

“An accident,” Brandon whispered, putting money on the bar and ordering a beer, “it wasn’t part of the plan.”

“What plan?” I hissed.

“The plan Gloria and I made.” Brandon said, dropping a pair of earrings on the bar.

“Gloria’s dead.” I replied frankly, but Brandon just shook his head.

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.” My brother said with a shit-eating grin, puffing out his chest with exaggerated bravado.

“I’m talking to a fucking dumbass.” I replied, but I couldn’t help but smile back. Brandon’s eyes lingered on me for a bit longer than usual, and then shifted sharply away. That was weird.

“Ok,” I said, ignoring the oddity, “what’s the plan?”

“You need to give these to Tera,” Brandon replied, pointing to the earrings, “they’ll allow her to talk to me without having to speak. All she has to do is think the words like she’s reading them, and I’ll hear them.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“And then… we figure it out, I guess.” Brandon shrugged, “We need to establish a line of communication before we can start anything. I was hoping to remain an anonymous patron, but obviously that’s not going to happen.”

“Willowbud has to free Justina,” I said, “right now, that is our only goal. Once she does that, she and Tera can escape.”

“That was my thought as well.” Brandon nodded, “What about Corruption? Have you or Astrid made any progress with that?”

“I’m still working on it,” I said, chewing my nonexistent lip, “once Justina’s free, she and I can go to the royal tomes and do some research on astral beings.”

Brandon’s brow furrowed, his mouth opening like he was going to say something, but instead he just took a swig of beer, and nodded. I turned around, watching Willowbud present Astrid to the crowd, the poor Valkyrie covered in welts, but a slutty smile stretched across her face. A procession of eager men walked onto the stage, and Astrid grinned hungrily at each of them before allowing them to take turns inside her, stuffing her holes until every option was filled. Tera played the part of the dominant mistress; abusing Astrid like she wanted, degrading her in front of everyone, making her the object of sex she desired to be, though pretended not to.

“Are you actually going on that date with Willowbud tonight?” I asked Brandon.

“I have to, don’t I?” Brandon replied, nursing his beer, “It wouldn’t be smart to stand her up.”

“I don’t think you should.” I grimaced, not wanting to mention what I saw happen with Corruption, lest Brandon lose his shit.

“It could present an opportunity,” Brandon insisted, the stubborn moron that he was, “maybe I can convince her to free Justina.”

“How?” I scoffed, “With the irresistible prowess of your dick?”

“Maybe,” Brandon grinned, “she seemed pretty happy with it.”

“Brandon…” I said, trying to figure how to say this without freaking him out, “when you were fucking Willowbud, Corruption was… um… fucking you.”

“What?!” Brandon hissed.

“I think she’s the reason Willowbud sought you out,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the Earth Former, “I think she’s attracted to you, and I don’t know why, but it can’t be good. You can’t go on that date.”

I’d hoped that Brandon would realize the gravity of the situation, but my hopes were in vain. His face grew ashen with momentary fear, and then his brazen, stupid arrogance came roaring back, and he puffed out his chest in a display of inflated bluster.

“Goddamn, I’m good,” Brandon grinned, “a god and a Sentient, both seduced by my mighty girth. Maybe I’ll get Willowbud to erect a hundred-foot statue of it in my honor; it would be close to scale.”

“I fucking hate you.” I giggled. Brandon’s grin broadened, and I swore he stole a glance at my chest. I must’ve imagined it.

“I wouldn’t worry about Willowbud,” Brandon said, stretching his back and yawning his words with casual arrogance, “she probably just thinks I’m nothing more than a good lay, and if I’m being honest, she was pretty great herself. For a woman who walks around packing heat most of the time, she sure knows how to-”

“Stop,” I said holding up a hand, “I’ve been inside enslaved-Justina for the past three days now, and am quite familiar with the things Willowbud knows how to do.”

“Do you… like the things she does?” Brandon asked, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Justina does,” I shrugged, “which means I do, when I’m in her head. As long as I let her be in control during the act, I can enjoy it without participating.”

Brandon frowned at that, a reaction I found rather strange. Did he want me to dislike the things Willowbud was doing to Justina? And why was he stealing weird glances at me?

“I better get going,” Brandon said, finishing his beer, and hiding the earrings under a napkin, “Gloria’s probably losing her mind right now. Make sure Tera puts these on, Angela.”

“I will.” I said, and then put my hand on Brandon’s shoulder, grimacing as it passed through it. I’d been so used to living in Justina’s body, that I’d forgotten I was basically nothing at all.

“What?” Brandon asked, looking awkwardly at the hand that didn’t touch him. What is wrong with him?

“It was nice to see you.” I smiled. Brandon smiled back, the awkwardness leaving him. We said our goodbyes, and then he hopped off the stool, collected the pin cushions, and left The Screeching Siren.

WILLOWBUD

I didn’t know why I felt how I did. Being melded with Corruption meant I never had romantic interests, but apparently, Corruption made an exception for Brandon. I couldn’t remember the last time I put on makeup, or wore a dress, or shaved my pubes, but here I was; doing all three. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt butterflies, but there they were. I told myself it was stupid, I told myself to let it go, but Corruption’s emotional negligence wasn’t there to stop me from feeling it. Why does she want me to like Brandon? What the fuck is it about him?

“You can see Corruption,” I said to Angela’s reflection as I finished applying white lipstick to my mouth, “what is she doing right now?”

I affixed an image of Brandon in my mind, and glanced over at the blue-eyed half of Justina.

“Adjusting her tits in the mirror,” Angela said, cocking her head, “like you are right now.”

“Why?” I asked, slightly exasperated as I stuffed my slender form into a tight-fitting white dress, its color matching the sheen of my lips and the hue of my hair, while contrasting my caramel complexion.

“I couldn’t tell you.” Angela said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

“How can you trust him, Mistress?” Astrid asked from Angela’s other side, unable to conceal her jealousy. Astrid was lucky if she got to suck my unwashed cock, and here I was, preening for a complete stranger. I’d make sure to milk this for all it was worth.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I smirked at the Valkyrie, “there’s just something about him. He’s so brave, and honorable. He seems like the type of man who would never break a vow, no matter who told him to. You know; the type of man you can trust.”

Astrid seethed silently behind me, her face turning red. God, she was easy to manipulate. Tera gave me a withering look in the mirror, and put a consoling hand on the Valkyrie’s armored shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her,” Tera said to Astrid, trying to pull the Valkyrie away, “c’mon, let’s go get ready for tonight. We need to practice that maneuver and-”

Astrid grabbed Tera by the hair, pulled it back violently, and pressed the shocked succubus into a heated kiss. Tera managed to stem her natural seduction before she enslaved Astrid, and then melted willingly into the embrace; her head tilting to reciprocate, her onyx hair falling behind her, her naked breasts squishing into Astrid’s chest. Astrid wasn’t sharing in the succubus’s revelry. Her blue eyes stared daggers at me as her hand gripped Tera’s supple, bronze glute and spread it wide, her other hand sliding middle-finger-first down the succubus’s crack. She picked Tera up like a bowling ball, and then walked away; Tera’s excited legs wrapping around Astrid’s waist as they disappeared around the corner, sounds of their wet lust dwindling until they were muted by the slamming of a bedroom door.

“I think Astrid might be trying to tell you something,” Angela said, trying to stifle her laughter, “but I don’t know what; she’s just so subtle.”

“That was the most un-Astrid thing I’ve ever seen her do,” I smiled, putting hooped earrings of white-gold into my lobes, “she’s coming along nicely.”

BRANDON

“You are the dumbest mother fucker I have ever met.” Gloria growled as she dragged me down the street.

“She’s right.” Tera’s voice spoke from the gemstone in my ear, “What were you thinking?!”

“What was I supposed to do?” I hissed to both women, “Say no?”

“You could’ve just shit yourself like the retard you are,” Gloria snarled as she hustled me through alleyways, “but instead, you did something even dumber; you fucked her.”

“It’s Corruption that wants you,” Tera said, “even Willowbud knows that. Why, do you suppose, is Corruption so interested in you?”

“I wonder,” Gloria sneered sarcastically, “maybe it’s because he’s so good at shoveling pig shit?”

“Maybe it’s because his dick is just that great?” Tera teased.

“Or maybe,” Gloria said, pinning me against a wall, “it’s because you’re the fucking Life Giver.”

“Corruption is the spawn of a past Life Giver,” Tera said, her voice sounding exhausted in my ear, “she can sense exactly what you are. She knows to some degree what Angela is, and I fear it won’t take long before Willowbud starts figuring stuff out for herself.”

“You might as well have stuck your dick in a bear trap, Your Holiness,” Gloria sighed, “why do you think Corruption wants you and Willowbud together?”

“Maybe she’s a romantic?” Tera teased again.

“Maybe she has daddy issues?” Gloria chided along.

“Or maybe,” Tera sighed, “she wants to bind two gods together, with her as the glue that melds them.”

“Is the picture becoming clearer, Your Holiness?” Gloria asked, her wrathful, red eyes narrowing.

“Angela didn’t seem too worried about it,” I said defensively, holding up my hands, “and she was the one who saw it, so… maybe you two are overreacting?”

“Angela doesn’t know what she is,” Tera said, “I’ve been keeping that secret for her own benefit. If she knew about the connection between Life Givers and Sentients, she’d probably be reaming you worse than Gloria.”

“Can gods even bind?” I asked nervously, not liking at all how Gloria was looking at me.

“It’s never happened before,” Gloria said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“There’s no record of a Sentient-melded Creator either,” Tera added, “but here we are.”

“Corruption has an agenda,” Gloria said, “and that agenda involves you binding with Willowbud while she’s melded with her. Gods only knows what would happen if a Creator becomes bound while a Sentient is melded, but add another Creator to the mix? It could be a catastrophe.”

“Apocalyptic.” Tera added helpfully.

“So…” I said, no longer sure if Gloria’s religion would keep her from eating me, “I should not go on that date tonight.”

“You have to,” Tera said, “I don’t want to think about how Willowbud would react if you stood her up.”

“She’d probably demolish half the city,” Gloria said, looking me over with disgust written across her face, “or maybe she’d just laugh it off; who knows?”

“She’s as unpredictable as they come,” Tera said, “didn’t your dad ever tell you not to stick your dick in crazy?”

“My dad told me to quit masturbating or he’d beat me with a garden hose,” I gulped, “we never really talked about the birds and the bees.”

Gloria stared long and hard at me for an agonizing moment, and then burst into hysterical laughter. She sobbed her mirth into my chest as her fist pounded painfully against it. I stood pinned to the wall, more terrified by her merriment than I’d ever been of her anger. When she was done, she let out a long sigh, took me by the arm, and guided me down the street.

“C’mon, you wonderful, holy dipshit,” she chuckled, “let’s get you ready for your date.”

TERA

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Astrid asked. I stared dumbly at her as she sharpened her blade, the roar of the crowd raging around our dugout.

“You’re beautiful, you know that.” I said, fairly certain that vanity was against Iona codes. She looked at her reflection in the blade, scrutinizing every self-perceived imperfection.

“Do you think I’m good in bed?” Astrid asked, staring hopelessly up at me.

“You’re fantastic,” I smiled, “one of the best I’ve had, and I’ve had all kinds.”

It didn’t make her feel any better. She stared back at her reflection, angling her face this way and that, her frown deepening with every pass of the weapon.

“Don’t let Brandon get you down,” I said, trying to console her, “he’s a nobody, and Willowbud will forget about him in a day.”

“It’s Corruption that likes him,” Astrid spat, “and Mistress goes where Corruption goes.”

“Then you should go the opposite,” I said, leaning forward, “once you free Willowbud of Corruption, she’ll love you because you stayed true to yourself.”

“If I free Mistress of Corruption,” Astrid said darkly, staring at me from beneath her brow, “if.”

“Don’t lose hope,” I said, “Angela is working on a solution.”

“Angela is just the insane half of your daughter,” Astrid said grumpily, “and being clairvoyant doesn’t mean you can act upon what you see.”

I might’ve told Astrid the truth, if I didn’t think she’d deliver it right to Willowbud the moment our mistress put the pressure on. Instead, I bit my tongue.

“Maybe I should become the woman Mistress wants me to be,” Astrid whispered, “why should I keep clinging to my oaths, when they give me nothing but heartache and pain?”

“Because they’re who you are,” I said, touching her knee, “don’t let Corruption take that away from you.”

“Mistress doesn’t love who I am,” Astrid whimpered, tears filming her eyes, “I need to be someone else.”

“Do you love Mistress, or Willowbud?” I asked pointedly, “Because they are not the same.”

Astrid worked her mouth, her lip trembling, a single tear staining her flushed cheek. She wiped it away, and smiled up at me.

“Willowbud,” Astrid whispered, the name seemingly reverent on her tongue, “I love Willowbud.”

“And she loves you,” I said consolingly, rubbing my hand along her thigh, keeping my seduction from my touch, “she’s still in there, somewhere, waiting to come out. Don’t lose hope, Astrid. If you lose hope, then you’ll lose her; you’re the only one who can save her.”

Astrid nodded, her expression brightening, her posture straightening. She wiped the remnants of grief from her face, and went back to sharpening her blade, grinding stone to metal with renewed vigor.

“I hope you’re date’s going just great, Brandon,” I thought to The Life Giver, “Because of you, I have to play therapist before a fucking gladiatorial match.”

Brandon didn’t respond; he’d pulled out his earring.

WILLOWBUD

I guessed Brandon was handsome. He was blonde haired, pale-skinned, freckled, had good bone structure, muscle in the right places, oddly-familiar blue eyes, but there wasn’t anything specific that I could point to and say, “that’s why I’m dating him.” I was just… drawn to him, or rather, Corruption was. It was an intriguing mystery, but I wasn’t one to question my desires. Corruption’s meld meant that I did as I pleased, without worrying about consequences. I wanted Brandon, so I’d taken him. It was obvious that he wanted me, and why wouldn’t he? I’d made myself all nice and pretty for him, and my white-sheened lipstick screamed ‘I suck dick.’

“There they are.” I smiled as Astrid and Tera climbed from the dugout to the roar of the crowd. Astrid marched across the field like a woman on a mission, Tera barely keeping up behind her. Across the arena, seven heavily-armed and armored orcs stood in an inverted crescent, undoubtedly trying to mitigate Astrid’s ability to hit them one at a time. Behind the crescent, stood a massive, twelve-foot troll. The bigger they are…

“Have you ever killed a man?” I asked Brandon, my head resting on his shoulder, my hand resting on his thigh.

“That’s an interesting conversation-starter.” Brandon smirked down at me.

“I think it is.” I smiled back.

“No,” Brandon said, pulling me closer into the crook of his arm, “but I guess that makes one of us.”

“Does it bother you that I’m a murderer?” I asked him, not sure why I liked the feeling of his protective arm around me; I never needed, nor wanted a protector before.

“If it did, then I wouldn’t have come here.” Brandon replied, soft, blue eyes staring affectionately down at me. There was an innocence behind those eyes, but not a vulnerability. He wasn’t a part of the violent, ruthless world I was, but he wasn’t weak. What is it about him?

“Who are you, really?” I asked, unable to keep myself from staring up at him with puppy-eyes. It would have been embarrassing, if I could feel embarrassment.

“What do you mean?” he asked, smiling a clueless smile. It was adorable.

“I can usually read people like a book,” I said, “I can take one look at them, and see everything I need to know; what they want, where they’re from, where they’re going, but you’re a mystery to me.”

“You’re quite perceptive,” Brandon chuckled, his thumb caressing me gently on the shoulder, “what can you tell me about him?” Brandon inclined his head to a man sitting in the luxury box next to us. I glanced at him, and Corruption’s eyes saw all they needed to see.

“He’s a rich man with a bad marriage,” I said, snuggling my head onto Brandon’s chest, “his kids use him for money, his wife sleeps around, and that woman on his arm is an escort. His desires border on the mundane; power, women, wealth. He’s a bore.”

“What about her?” Brandon asked, pointing to the woman in the box on our other side.

“Hmm,” I said, eyes running over the elderly, statuesque elf, “she’s a self-made woman with ruthless ambition.”

“Like you?” Brandon asked.

“No,” I smiled up at him, “she’s a mogul dead-set on carving a legacy for herself, with her name plastered on buildings across Drastin. I don’t give a shit about my legacy; it’s my reputation I care about.”

The starting horn sounded, and Astrid charged across the arena with Tera on her back. She bolted right into the middle of the inverted crescent, took off the middle-orc’s head, and launched Tera at the troll. The naked succubus flipped through the air, dove head-first between the troll’s clasping hands, and drove both of her daggers into the beast’s eyes. The blinded behemoth reeled back, swiping desperately at his face, but the nimble succubus was too quick. She caught one of the troll’s bullhorns, swung precariously from a mighty swipe, caught the other horn, and then reeled back like an acrobat on a trapeze, and swung feet-first, driving her heels into the butts of her daggers and sending the blades deep into the monster’s skull. The troll lolled forward, droning a deep, guttural tone, and then collapsed onto its back in an earth-shaking impact.

Astrid moved with sweeping, continuous motions, each strike from her sword flowing into the next, a relentless dance of death. The orcs surrounded her, attacked her on all sides, and she parried them with ease, dodged as though the fight were choreographed, and even toyed with a few of them. She ducked beneath a swing, sliced off a leg, rolled backward, impaled a chin, landed in a crouch, and then shot forward, her wings unfurling, her body corkscrewing through the air in a vortex of feathers and steel. She sheared through two orcs, sliced another in half, caught an attack behind her back without looking, kicked the orc in front of her, spun around, disemboweled the beast who had attempted the backstab, and then decapitated the final opponent with a spinning slice. The screams of the de-legged orc were barely audible over the roar of the crowd, and the ending horn sounded fifty seconds after the starting horn had blared.

Astrid raised her sword aloft, prompting sixty-thousand fists to raise with her, punctuated by the chants for ‘Angel.’ Beneath her, the surviving orc she’d dismembered clawed at the sand, squirming to get away, and the chants for ‘kill’ began to rumble. Astrid didn’t hesitate. She moved above the wounded creature and dispatched it without mercy or passion, watching me coldly as she did it. The execution was accompanied by a roar of approval, but I felt she could’ve done it with a bit more flare. It wasn’t just death that the crowd loved, but the way it was delivered. Showmanship was as important as lethality, but Astrid didn’t enjoy murder enough to make a spectacle of it; not yet. She did, however, know exactly how to work a crowd in other ways. When Tera came to join her victorious partner, Astrid didn’t raise their hands in triumphant unity as she did before. No, Astrid grabbed the succubus by the waist, and embraced her into a passionate kiss; dipping Tera almost to the ground and pulling her bronze leg into a lecherous bend. The crowd screamed their delight, and I grinned; that would make the papers tomorrow. My brothel would be spilling onto the streets with new patrons and eager fans, trying to catch a glimpse of the depravity whilst trying to get an autograph. Well done, Astrid.

“Did you enjoy the show?” I asked Brandon, an odd sense of… worry? Was I worried that he didn’t like it? Why did I give a shit?

“It was a bit gruesome,” Brandon grimaced, and then looked down with a quirked smile, “but it certainly was entertaining.”

“Good.” I grinned, feeling a pathetic wave of relief and joy. He pulled me closer into his arms, and I found myself nestling deeper to his body, not looking for lust, but for comfort; physically and emotionally. Something was wrong with Corruption; I wasn’t supposed to feel like this. I wasn’t supposed to want this. I wasn’t supposed to care.

“What are you?” I whispered into his chest, enjoying the thumping of his heart against my cheek.

“What was that?” Brandon asked, his calloused hand running softly through my white hair.

“Tell me truthfully, Brandon,” I said, looking up into his eyes, his disconcertingly-familiar eyes, “did you come on this date with me because you were afraid of what I’d do if you didn’t?”

“That was half the reason.” Brandon smiled, his thumb brushing white bangs from my face, and pulling the strands behind my horn.

“And what’s the other reason?” I asked, feeling anxiety tugging at my chest; anxiety I shouldn’t have been feeling.

“I like you,” Brandon said, his hand trailing over my cheek, “you excite me.”

“You excite me too,” I giggled girlishly (holy shit, I’m fawning over him), “but I don’t know why; you don’t seem very interesting.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.” Brandon grinned his stupid, adorable, grin. I felt my heart flutter with exhilaration and my stomach grow light with primitive happiness. This is getting out of hand, I thought, I should just kill him before this goes further.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” I asked instead, eyes brimming up at him, full of promise, “You can meet Death Kiss and Angel. Would you like that?”

“I don’t know…” Brandon frowned, “celebrities are never as cool as they seem in the papers.”

“By ‘meet’ I meant ‘fuck,’” I whispered into his mouth, my hand running up his thigh, my grip widening as it moved over what I wanted, “do you want to fuck Death Kiss and Angel?”

“I want you,” Brandon grinned, pulling me atop him by the ass, my ascension accompanied by a chorus of pathetic giggles, “but I suppose we can make it a foursome.”

TERA

“Gloria,” I said mentally as I sat next to Astrid in the carriage, trying to keep her calm as she watched Brandon and Willowbud sloppily making out across from us, “we’ve got a problem.”

“Let me guess,” Gloria sighed, “it involves Brandon thinking with the head between his legs.”

“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” I replied grimly, “I really don’t like the look of this.”

“Why isn’t Brandon responding?” Gloria growled on the other end.

“He took the gemstone out of his ear.” I replied.

“He what?!” Gloria exclaimed.

“He told me, and I quote, ‘Angela used to talk over my shoulder during dates, and it always ended with a drink getting thrown in my face. I don’t need any more crazy bitches giving me romantic advice.’”” I said.

“He does know that he isn’t trying to be in a relationship with Willowbud, right?!” Gloria said, clearly exasperated.

“I’m not so sure,” I frowned, watching the two gods staring longingly into each other’s eyes, “I don’t think he is either.”

“Oh, shit.” Gloria groaned, “What are you doing now?”

“Well,” I said, squeezing Astrid’s hand tighter as I felt her seething next to me, “we’re about to have an orgy.”

“Great.” Gloria sighed, “maybe you can fuck some sense into him.”

“I don’t know,” I replied grimly, “I think Willowbud and Corruption might be fucking all the sense out of him.”

Gloria said her reluctant goodbyes, and then the line went dead. I looked up at Astrid, frowning at her worsening rage, a sense of worry lingering in my chest. Her honor was dwindling by the day, and with it, her rationality. There were times when I liked her unpredictability, but gambling with Brandon’s life wasn’t one of them. The two of them would have to find common ground if The Life Giver and The Earth Former were going to continue this disastrous relationship.

ASTRID

“Anything that boy tries to stick in me, I am snapping off!” I growled as I washed off grime, dirt and blood in the shower with Tera.

“I’m sure Willowbud will appreciate that,” Tera sighed, drying her bronze body off, “you know she can hear you, right?”

“I hope she’s listening,” I said darkly as I turned the shower off, ringing out my braids onto the tiled floor, “maybe she’ll think twice about letting that idiot touch me.”

“You let half the city fuck you publicly,” Tera said, tossing her wavy, onyx hair in the mirror and checking-over her beautiful form, “but one man in private is too much for you?”

“It’s not the same!” I cried, stomping over to the mirror and vainly making sure everything was in order, “When Mistress is punishing me, she’s doing it for me, not for the men taking me. Here, she’s giving me away like a gift!”

“If you try to hurt him,” Tera said calmly, taking out earrings I hadn’t seen her wearing before, “I’ll have to enslave you, and then you’ll be doing everything Brandon wants anyway.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I hissed.

“I would,” Tera smiled, turning around and leaning back on the sink, displaying her body to me, “and you know it.”

I seethed for a second longer, and then sighed, and smiled ruefully back.

“The best you can do,” Tera said, taking my hand, and guiding me out of the bathroom, “is fuck Brandon with a scowl on your face. You know,” Tera smirked back at me, “that expression you always have.”

WILLOWBUD

I pulled from Brandon, breath blowing heavily into each other’s mouths, hearts beating passionately against each other’s chests. I leaned back, and let my dress fall from my body, exposing my caramel, slender nakedness to him. I didn’t know why, but I felt bashful before him. It was strange, and uncomfortable, and absolutely exhilarating. I almost covered my breasts with my forearm, but he stopped me, peering curiously into my black eyes.

“You are so different than I expected.” Brandon smiled, running his wonderful hands over my naked form.

“You make me feel different,” I gulped, hating and loving how I was feeling, “this isn’t usually how I am.”

“No,” Brandon whispered, pulling the folded drape of my dress from my pelvis, exposing my clean-shaven crotch, “when I first saw you, you were quite different.”

“Does it bother you?” I asked, fingers twisting nervously around the fabric of my dress, the urge to pull it back up almost overwhelming me.

“I wasn’t talking about your dick, Night Eyes,” Brandon laughed, “I was talking about you.”

“Oh,” I laughed awkwardly with him, “so… my, uh…” Goddamn it, what is wrong with me?!, “my… um…”

“No,” Brandon chuckled, sliding his hand down the subtle lines of my abdomen, “your cock doesn’t bother me. Actually, since the ratio for our little lovefest is kind of skewed, I was wondering if you’d whip it out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling a lump in my throat. What the fuck is going on, Corruption?!

“Yes, Night Eyes,” Brandon grinned his wonderful, stupid grin, “I’m sure.”

“Don’t call me that.” I whispered, pushing my dress past my ankles.

“What?” Brandon asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Night Eyes; that’s not my name,” I said, feeling myself changing, “my name is Willowbud.”

I watched Brandon as my masculinity grew from my femininity, engorging with readiness, throbbing vulgarly. He stared at it with fascination, and then smiled a crooked smile at me, and clasped his hand around it. The gasp that came from me was weak and girlish, the way my body bent was seeped in female languidness, but the tool of my lust was a man’s weapon, and my new lover didn’t seem to care what kind of heat I was packing.

“This is, without a doubt,” Brandon chuckled to himself as he stroked me, “the gayest thing I’ve ever done.”

“What?” I laughed through a breathy moan, “You never experimented in summer camp?”

“I never went to summer camp,” Brandon smiled, his other hand pulling me back onto his body, squishing my throbbing heat between the warmth of our abdomens, “but I did let a woman stick her fingers up my ass once.”

“You want to try something bigger?” I smiled into his eyes as our lips brushed.

“I don’t think we’re at that stage in our relationship.” Brandon whispered, his hand soft, but firm as it stroked me to new levels of arousal, “Willowbud,” he smiled, “that’s a pretty name; does it come with a last one?”

“I don’t think we’re at that stage in our relationship,” I chuckled, eyes half-lidded with lust, my voice seeped in seduction, “maybe you can tell me what you know about Sentients, Brandon; then I’ll tell you my last name.”

“Sentients?” Brandon smirked, eyes teasing me, “I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

“You know a lot more than you’re saying,” I whispered, my fingers touching his face gently, “I’m beginning to suspect you might be a very dangerous person.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” Brandon whispered back, rolling me over to the side as Astrid and Tera strutted into the room, “but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Brandon,” I hissed, my heart thrumming with lust and longing, brimming with Corruption’s desire for me to be with this man, “I know you know something.”

“I know all kinds of things.” Brandon smiled, and then took my face in his hand, and kissed me. God, it was good. I felt myself bending to him, molding to him, tilting my head back and sinking into the depths of his lust. His tongue placated my worries, his lips sucked away my doubt, and his hand readied me for the women that approached us, his breath promising nothing but pleasure.

BRANDON

I pulled from the sweet taste of Willowbud’s lips, and smirked at Tera as she approached me; her gait sultry and slow, her tail trailing in an arc behind her, her violet eyes smirking back, an unspoken joke lingering between us.

“So,” Tera smiled, her voice soft and seductive, her fingers wrapping around me as she crouched straight-backed between my legs, “what can Death Kiss do for you, young man?”

“Is there anything Death Kiss won’t do for me?” I asked teasingly, caressing her from cheek to chin.

“No.” Tera whispered, her snake-like tongue flicking from her purple lips, her violet eyes continuing the conversation (but you know that, don’t you?).

“Both of them will do anything I ask,” Willowbud said beside me as Astrid crouched between her mistress’s legs, giving me a look dripping with contempt, “how do you want them?”

“I don’t think Angel likes me very much.” I said, smirking into Astrid’s wrathful eyes. Tera gave me a small flick on the balls, not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. She leveled me with a purposeful stare, and shook her head subtly. ‘Don’t fuck with her, Brandon,’ was the unspoken message. I nodded with equal subtlety, but I’d already said all Willowbud needed to hear.

“No, she doesn’t,” Willowbud chuckled, tousling Astrid’s braids playfully, “she’s being so rude to my guest. Astrid, switch places with Tera; I’d like you and Brandon to settle your differences.”

Tera gave me an annoyed look, pressed something into my hand, and then crawled past Astrid as the winged beauty crawled to me. Astrid was laced with soft muscle, stacked with the biggest tits I’d ever seen, blessed with a backside of supple perfection, and painted with a face of stoic exquisiteness. She grabbed my cock like she was trying to yank it from my pelvis, and sneered from behind my shaft.

“What can Angel do for you, Brandon?” Astrid spat.

“Not rip my cock off!” I squeaked. This was the second time in two days a strong woman had threatened to dismember me, and it was starting to get old.

“Astrid,” Willowbud chuckled next to me as Tera wrapped her tongue three times around the nymph’s shaft, “play nice.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Astrid said, looking affectionately at Willowbud, and then narrowing her eyes at me, “Brandon and I will get along just fine; won’t we, Brandon?”

Astrid loosened her grip on my cock, and then lowered her lush, pale lips to it. She unceremoniously spit on my tip, as though it was beneath her to touch it, then stared her blue hatred into my eyes, and began to take me in. The disdain that brimmed from her blue regard starkly contrasted the tenderness of her oral embrace, and the duality of her lust aroused me as much as it frightened me. Her lips sucked passionately, her tongue licked delectably, her throat swallowed expertly, and her eyes stared contemptuously. Her mouth squished against my base, her nose pressed into my pelvis, and her throat bulged with my girth, my length deforming half of her neck. My head fell backward, and a disbelieving groan spilled from me. Tera and Gloria gave great head, but this was the best I’d ever felt. Astrid knew it too; she sneered at me from around her consumption, her expression telling me she didn’t think I deserved to even look at her, much less have my dick sucked by her. It only turned me on more. Between Gloria and Astrid, I might’ve been developing a fetish for women who didn’t like me.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Willowbud moaned next to me as Tera’s head bobbed up and down, her violet irises brimming with unbridled lust.

“She’s amazing,” I gasped as Astrid began to pull, her lips seeming to suck my insides up my shaft, “how did a fucking Valkyrie learn to do this?!”

“It came naturally to her,” Willowbud chuckled, petting Tera’s hair, and running a single finger down my chest, “I couldn’t believe I was her first when she sucked me.”

As if to prove a point, Astrid began moving with a passion; her tongue curling around my underside, sheening me in a delicate hold as her lips sucked with sensual avarice, and pillowed wetly against my pelvis. Her throat gurgled softly as I pierced it deeply, and she swallowed around me with ease, her eyes glinting with malevolence. She was trying to make me come; she wanted me to blow my wad before the action even got started. She was trying to embarrass me. Her cheeks went gaunt as her mouth stretched from her face with the suction of her lips, her tongue licking back and forth along my underside with sensual teases as she willed me to blow inside her. I wasn’t that easy. I entangled two hands into her braids, grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and began thrusting into her mouth, defiantly challenging her to do her worst. She reached beneath me and took two fistfuls of my glutes, squeezing my ass and helping me thrust, her lips quirking their challenge back at me. She rotated and lathered, hummed and gurgled, and I pushed deep into her, watching in perverse fascination as my bulge moved through her elegant neck. I yanked her hair roughly, trapping her face against my pelvis, forcing my entire length into her esophagus. The hateful look in her eyes began to soften, drooping into an arousal she didn’t want to experience, compelled by the masochism that was her weakness. I pulled on her blonde braids until tears welled in her eyes, and they began to roll into her head with carnal hedonism, her self-defiling nature taking over her will to fight me. Her hands stopped squeezing my ass, and moved shamefully between her legs, touching herself in surrendered lust as she allowed me to hurt her the way she craved. She stopped trying to suck the insides out of me and relaxed her throat, hoping that I would ravage it, hoping that I would stretch every inch of her neck. I did. I smashed my pelvis against her face, brutally colliding into her mouth and forcing myself deep into her throat. She gagged and choked, gurgled and drooled on me, her beautiful face turning into a marred portrait of bubbled spit, her defiled mouth humming a pitch that grew more and more shrill as her masturbation bordered on desperation.

“Brandon tames the wild beast,” Willowbud laughed next to me as Tera finished preparing her mistress, “that was fun to watch.”

“It’s just like breaking-in a horse.” I smiled back. My drives began to decelerate, allowing Astrid’s tear and spit-streaked face to relax into slutty surrender. Her eyes rolled forward, all the defiance gone from them, shining only with lechery and subservient passion. She slowly, gratefully, pulled her mouth from my glistening cock, and gave it a worshipful lick, giggling delightedly as the shaft bobbed against her smeared face. I grinned back at her, and cupped a hand to her cheek, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she submissively sucked my thumb, her eyes staring demurely at me, telling me she was hoping I’d do everything to her. I thumbed the astral gemstone Tera had left in my hand; I guess it was time to get to know Astrid.

ASTRID

I hated that I couldn’t control my lust. I hated that it was so easy for Brandon to seduce me, when I had been so sure that I could beat him. I hated that I smiled like a little slut as I climbed up his body, eagerly awaiting to see how he’d defile me, hoping he’d make it hurt. My Valkyrie honor battled with my lover’s jealousy, which battled with my masochistic tendencies, all tearing at my soul until I felt Brandon’s hand touch my ear, and a gemstone push into my piercing.

“Don’t freak out,” Brandon’s voice said as his hand slid down my face, his eyes shining with desire, but his voice soft and reassuring, “I’m here to help you with Corruption.”

“What the-” I gasped, and Brandon forcefully clasped his palm over my mouth as he pushed his cock into my pussy.

“I liked you better when you couldn’t talk!” Brandon growled aloud (much to the approval of Mistress), and then added silently, “I put an astral gemstone in your ear; just think the words, and I’ll hear them.”

I might’ve said something back, were I not marveling at how good he felt inside me. Over the past three days, I’d taken countless men, but the only person Brandon could compare to, was Mistress herself. He filled me perfectly, stretched me just right, pierced me in all the tender places. He throbbed invasively into my depths, and I felt a shiver of pure delight crawl up my spine.

“I knew Mistress shouldn’t trust you,” I spoke silently as we began to grind; my back arching, my weight shifting from glute to glute, my mouth moaning as my mind formed words, “it’s nice to be vindicated.”

“You can trust me,” Brandon said, releasing his grip on my mouth and sinking his hands into my glutes, “I’m with Tera, Justina and Angela.”

“You can gain my trust by telling me why Corruption wants you.” I replied as I pressed my breasts into Brandon’s face, smiling as he took a nipple into his mouth. His cock separated me with deep, forceful motions, touching every nerve inside me, pressing against every surface of my channel. Great Creator’s, he was good. I had to forcibly keep my mind focused, lest I drift into thoughtless, carnal bliss. I hated how good he made me feel, but I reluctantly admitted to myself that I could see why Mistress was so enamored with him. I good get addicted to this kind of man as well.

“I don’t know.” Brandon answered mentally, though his tongue flicked the words against my erect nipple. I giggled at the feeling, expressing my mirth through the increasingly-wretched tones of my lust. Beside me, Tera was crouching straight-backed atop Mistress, sensually sliding up and down the nymph’s shaft, her ass nearly level with her heels at the bottom of her descent, her anus gaping beautifully. She spread her cheeks and looked over her shoulder at her defilement, moaning almost mournfully as she aimed the point of her tail, and penetrated my god’s sinful hole. Across the room, I saw a pair of blue eyes peering fearfully from the dark; a pair of eyes I recognized almost immediately. I felt a chill crawl up my spine, accompanying the shivers of pleasure that ran traffic through my nervous system. I looked down at the man nursing from me, and saw the same blue eyes shining from his face.

“I’m no good at lying, Brandon,” I said silently as I clamped my hands around his crown and pulled him to my breast, enveloping his face entirely, “I couldn’t tell a lie to save my life, but since I’ve come to Drastin, I’ve gotten very good at detecting them in others.”

“Astrid,” Brandon said, his face squirming into my bosom, my hands holding him fast, “I can’t breathe!”

“Tell me why Corruption wants you, Brandon,” I replied, savoring the desperate way he thrusted inside me as oxygen became a luxury for him, “tell me why Angela has your eyes.”

Gods, he felt good. His struggling body thrusted and drove with a renewed vigor, blasting his pelvis into mine, ramming his wonderful heat deep into my nethers. I moaned and cried out in delight, almost overcome by his lust, almost driven to madness, almost bending like the submissive slut I was. Almost. I held Brandon tightly between my breasts, smothering his body with my own, concealing his suffocation from my Mistress with my wings. The idea of killing a man in the heat of passion stirred an odd sense of exhilaration in me, and I found myself pressing Brandon’s face deeper to my bosom as I closed the cocoon of feathers around us. This would be hard to explain, but at least the competition would be gone. Mistress would forgive me; this is what she wanted me to be, after all.

“Angela’s my sister!” Brandon’s desperate voice squealed in my mind, “She’s a Sentient like Corruption!”

“What?!” I hissed mentally, “Don’t lie to me, little boy!”

“Why else would she have my eyes?!” Brandon screamed, his struggling body only making the pleasure greater.

“Astral beings don’t have siblings!” I snarled.

“Sentients aren’t astral beings!” Brandon shrieked, his heart thundering against my flesh, “They’re dead souls Life Givers never bound with!”

“What are you talking about? Quit spewing your bullsh-” I stopped, my body stiffened, and my heart dropped in my chest. From my open, moaning mouth, flitted an ethereal butterfly; it’s soft luminescence bathing my feathered-cocoon in a sapphire hue. It floated gracefully about my secluded room of wings and searched for an exit, before resigning itself to the world it was born to, and landing softly on my arm, its light dimming.

“Astrid,” Brandon whispered, his voice sounding weak and faint, “you’re still killing me.”

The world came roaring back to me, the new reality hitting me almost as hard as Brandon’s thrashing hips. I immediately released the god in my arms, horrified at what I’d almost done, ashamed beyond any measure I’d ever felt before. The Life Giver breathed deep, panting breaths, his face nearly purple with asphyxiation, his eyes bulging and panicked. I frantically tried to help him, tried to apologize without speaking aloud, tried to do anything that would absolve me of my horrific blasphemy. Brandon waved away my efforts, concealing his coughs in his elbow, wiping the tears from his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me, Your Holiness!” I pleaded, sitting straight-backed and terrified, our bodies lying static in our sex, his cock bulging motionless within me, still giving me some pleasure to mix with my horror and deific reverence. Brandon collected himself, narrowed his eyes at me, then reeled back a hand and slapped me hard across the face. I yelped, completely blindsided by the blow, my head whipping to the side, my hand touching trembling fingers to my stinging cheek. Oh my gods, I thought as an astonished smile curled on my lips, I really liked that.

“Next time you try something like that,” Brandon snarled in my mind, taking two fistfuls of my hair and yanking back, pulling until the braids stung against my scalp and tears stung in my eyes, “I’ll kill you, Astrid; I swear I will.”

He began thrusting again, this time with malice; his pelvis smashing into mine, his cock impaling me beautifully, tearing through my tender reaches without mercy, punishing me just like I deserved.

“I’m sorry! I screamed mentally, my face forced upward, my body writhing below me, grinding with intensified desperation as the pain made the pleasure so much greater.

“You are a stupid cunt, you know that?” Brandon hissed mentally, the motions of his hips pushing me past the edge of sanity, tossing my body into a squirming mess of reactive pleasure, “You were the one bitching about trust, and when I tell you I want to help you, you try to kill me?!”

“I’m sorry!” I screeched again, my physical voice shrieking my abject delight, my body writhing in a wave of motion; my hips bucking, my back arching, my abdomen clenching, my ass rippling, and my thighs squeezing in possessed euphoria. Sweat glistened from my exerted flesh, trailing along the jiggling domes of my breasts, wetting my brow, dripping down the small of my back and running between my clapping cheeks.

“You better learn how to lie real quick,” Brandon growled mentally, “because I don’t feel like getting murdered by my new girlfriend because you couldn’t make something up!”

“I can’t tell untruths!” I cried back, feeling the orgasm churning in my depths, building like a torrent pressing against a dam, with cracks forming in the concrete.

“Then you better learn to keep your mouth shut!” Brandon replied, his cock hitting my bottom, sending pulsing ecstasy deep into my pelvis.

“I’ll never say a word!” I screeched mentally as my voice carried it’s ragged lust, “I promise! Gods, I’m sorry, Your Holiness! I’m so sorry!”

“I’ll make you sorry!” Brandon snarled with his real voice, releasing my hair, sending my head flying forward as his hands reached beneath us, and sunk into the jiggling fat of my backside, “You have no idea what sorry is, Angel!”

“Teach me!” I screamed, possessed by the unbridled euphoria, a slave to the pleasure, begging for the pain, “Please hurt me! Please punish me! I’m nothing but your begging whore!”

“Holy shit, what’s going on in there?” Willowbud laughed from outside my winged-room. Brandon grinned maliciously at me, picked me up by the ass, and rolled us over. Tera yelped as she jumped out of the way, her tail flying behind her as I was dropped onto my mistress. Brandon pulled out of my twitching pussy, grabbed Mistress by the back of her head, and kissed her with a melting passion, watching me with smirking eyes as the love of my life succumbed to him in blissful surrender. It hurt so badly, but I knew I deserved it, and knowing that somehow stoked my arousal. I wanted to be abused emotionally and physically, I needed to feel the ramifications for my blasphemy in order to atone. Either that, or I was just a masochistic whore.

“I want to be close to you,” Brandon whispered into Mistress’s adoring eyes, “I want to feel you pressed to me inside her.”

Mistress grinned up at Brandon, the longing etched in her wonderous expression. She watched Brandon-not me- as she aimed her curved-back cock, and pushed her entire length into my anus. Her heat ran through me, her girth stretched me, and I cried my pathetic delight, spreading my cheeks for Brandon, staring up at him with a quivering lower lip and puppy-eyes, showing him how submissive I could be, how badly I wanted him to make it hurt. He clasped a hand around my neck, pressed his cock against his lover’s, and forced me into the greatest pain and pleasure I’d ever known.

The sound that came from me was strangled gasp, a guttural inflection of air that expressed the shocked amazement of the feeling. My rim stretched to a tortuous circle of white flesh, my channel convulsed around its unnatural expansion, the compressions of my insides tightened as my bowels were forced upward. I wrenched in reaction; my hands anchoring beneath me, my back arching painfully, my head falling behind my pinching shoulders, and my wings spreading to their full span. My gods were not gentle. They drove in fervent congruence, their cocks pressing together within me, moving as one, burrowing through my reaches and desecrating my sanctity. In and out, in and out; their motions were violent, their intentions the same, their eyes sharing their sadistic desires as they pressed me between them. Their pelvises met the ruined flesh surrounding my gaping hole, and they moaned to each other, ignoring me, using me as nothing but the toy for their own lust. Brandon leaned forward, his body pressing to mine, and he connected a kiss over my shoulder with the woman I loved. It was the worst kind of cuckhold, but I loved it, and I hated how much I loved it. Tera walked over, pushing black hair from her flushed face. She assessed my situation with a crooked smirk, shrugged her shoulders, and then straddled my mouth. Even the succubus had more dignity than me, and I tasted her with all the reverence a slave does to her master.

Use me, break me, defile me, I thought, grinning through my lustful screams, Tera’s petals leaking into my open mouth, I’m nothing but the plaything of gods.

In that moment, I didn’t want to be anything else. Brandon and Mistress thrusted faster and faster, groaning and moaning into each other’s mouths, their cocks stretching my gape into a ruinous entrance, pulling my pelvic floor from my body, ripping my anal sheath from its channel and prolapsing me in a clinging length of desecrated, red flesh. Fluid leaked from my defilement, my pussy gushed with its heinous approval, my body writhed in thoughtless reaction, my mind long-succumbed to the sensations of my wonderful violation. I sucked the nectar from the whore straddling my face, shifted desperately between the gods sodomizing me, and screamed. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed; letting the world know of my ecstasy, unable to contain myself, unable to do anything but react. I dug my heels into the mattress, drove my ass onto my torturers, gasped as my abdomen distended with their girths, and rolled my eyes back as the climax took me. Tera gripped my breasts for stability as my body bucked and heaved, arched and bent. Willowbud’s gasps filtered into one ear, Brandon’s groans filtered into the other, and Tera’s moans sang from above as their bodies melted their wonderful warmth into me, pressing on all sides and piercing me with agonizing ecstasy. We accelerated our movements, acting as an eight-legged beast of rippling flesh and shrieking lust, our limbs thrashing chaotically, our voices singing in perverse harmony. The feeling boiled within us all, the pressure rising, the tension winding, the air in our lungs growing hot as our hearts cranked into screeching overdrive. We came in a paralytic vice of twisting abdomens, fluids squirting and erupting, leaking and overflowing, boiling into my convulsing rectum and pooling delightfully into my bowels. We collapsed in a heap of sonorous sighs and groans as the earth quaked beneath us, and a pack of wolves howled outside, both gods concealing their release with the barest effort. Brandon kissed Mistress over my shoulder, then Tera as she pulled from my face, and then he looked down at me. He brushed matted hair from my sticky cheeks, studied my marred complexion, and then smiled. He kissed me, tasting Tera on my lips, his tongue tickling mine playfully. I kissed him back, caressing his jaw gently, smiling my lips against his. My new lover, my new god. Two deities, and me, their lustful toy. How lucky can a girl get?

ANGELA

They were all eating breakfast at the table when I woke up. Sitting, laughing and chatting like a happy-fucking-family. Without a doubt, this was the most bizarre thing I’d seen in Willowbud’s brothel. Not the public displays of depravity, or the makeshift practices of gladiatorial matches, but this. Astrid wasn’t wearing her armor, but a night gown. She wasn’t scowling silently behind her mistress, but laughing gayly with Tera, who was naked, as always, and daintily dipping a teabag into a jar. Willowbud was wearing a fucking skirt and parked on my brother’s lap, and Brandon was smoking a goddamn cigarette. One orgy, and all of the sudden the whole world turns on its head.

“Angela!” Willowbud called to me, an actual smile on her face, and not a smirk, “We missed you last night!”

Willowbud was absolutely glowing with love on the outside, and positively blackened with Corruption within. I’d never seen the Sentient so prominent before, so obviously influencing the nymph. Corruption stared into Brandon’s eyes, caressed his face, kissed him softly on his unknowing lips. The four of them didn’t know; they couldn’t see what I was seeing. They couldn’t tell this whole thing was a farce, a lie created by a cancer. I plastered a smile on Justina’s face, and walked to the table.

“This is my cousin,” Willowbud said to Brandon, taking the cigarette from his lips and putting it between her own, “she is actually insane.”

“She is?” Brandon smiled, giving me a knowing wink, and then turning to Willowbud, “Then what does that make you?”

“Oh, I’m batshit,” Willowbud smirked at Brandon, passing smoke between their lips, “but you know that, don’t you? What did you say last night, ‘I know all kinds of things?’”

“I am wise beyond my years,” Brandon grinned, his hand traveling up Willowbud’s skirt, “and you are way too experienced for yours.”

Astrid laughed at something Tera said, and then, in the least deceptive way I could imagine, slid an astral gemstone to me. She somehow managed to look more conspicuous than if she’d literally vomited the rock onto my head, but I guessed subterfuge wasn’t part of the Valkyrie repertoire, and Willowbud was otherwise occupied. I looked inquisitively at her, and then placed the gemstone in Justina’s piercing.

“I know everything.” Astrid said mentally, trying to appear casual by reading the newspaper upside down, the hopeless deceiver that she was.

“Great,” I groaned, taking the newspaper and turning it around the right way, scowling at Astrid’s blushing face, “the woman who can’t lie knows all the secrets; whose brilliant idea was that?”

“You’re being rhetorical, right?” Astrid said mentally, letting the paper drop to the table, wisely realizing that she couldn’t act her way out of a cardboard box.

“Yes, Astrid,” Tera sighed on the other end, apparently using Brandon’s earring, “we all know who the genius of the group is.”

“In His Holiness’s defense,” Astrid said, gulping awkwardly, “I did try to kill him.”

“Next time, just finish the job,” I groaned, putting my head in my hands, “then at least I can die, and this nightmare of stupidity will be over.”

“But, you can’t die,” Astrid said, cocking her head in confusion, “if His Holiness-”

“Oh my god!” Tera yelled, looking at the newspaper. All four of our heads whipped around, even Corruption looked lazily over her shoulder. Tera’s hands were shaking as she read the headline, the paper crackling in her trembling fingers. She let the newspaper fall to the table, and all our eyes widened as the bold print was revealed.

The Heat Bringer in Terondia: Her Holiness, Sister Julia Glendian Assassinates Princess Lucilla Flitari of The Elven Empire.

Now, it was a game of who could pretend to be the most surprised: Willowbud, or Brandon. Willowbud gasped believably enough, Brandon drooped his expression in his typical stupor, and the rest of us pretended to be shocked for both of their sakes. Goddamn it, this was a mess.

“Let me see that.” Willowbud said, reaching for the paper. She opened it and looked-over the words, her mouth moving as she read, revealing her lack of schooling. Brandon read over her shoulder, and Corruption peered with equal interest.

“Holy shit,” Willowbud mumbled, “she blew up the palace tower, disintegrated the princess, and then escaped the city undetected. They think she went south, to Grundinar.” Willowbud scanned the paper again, and then frowned, “Sorry Astrid and Tera, but you guys only made it to page six. Fucking Heat Bringer stealing all my press.”

“This is huge,” Brandon said, taking the paper from Willowbud, “The Creators have returned! I always thought they were bullshit stories told by travelers.”

That was believable enough, I guessed.

“Eh, they’re a bunch of assholes,” Willowbud said, taking the paper from Brandon and tossing it on the table, “the world’s just fine for a few thousand years, and then they come along and fuck it all up. I’ll tell you one thing though; there is no way Julia went south to Grundinar.”

“Why do you say that?” Astrid asked.

“Because the elves have that border sealed tighter than your mom’s asshole.” Willowbud replied, “No, if Julia escaped the empire, she went through Arbortus.” Willowbud chuckled to herself, “The Heat Bringer in Arbortus; what a mess that could be.”

“The Earth Former in Drastin,” Tera smirked at Willowbud, “what a mess that could be.”

Willowbud glowered at Tera, and shifted uneasily in Brandon’s lap as Brandon pointedly didn’t react to what Tera had just said. This house of cards was one mouse-fart away from blowing over. There was a tense silence in the room, and then Brandon broke it with all the grace of a drunk hippo.

“Yeah, that sure would be bad,” Brandon laughed nervously, “kind of like The Life Giver in a cemetery! Haha, am I right? Because… you know… everyone’s dead…in a…cemetery…”

“Holy shit,” Willowbud laughed, tousling Brandon’s hair, “you are the cutest fucking thing in the world, you know that?”

“I know all kinds of things.” Brandon grinned up at her. The two gods connected lips, and the rest of us collectively rolled our eyes. Even Corruption cringed a little.

WILLOWBUD

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Brandon said as we watched Tera and Astrid slaughter their way through a team of centaurs, “that your cousin is your slave.”

“So?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders and glancing at Angela, who was sitting as far as she could from us in the box, “Half of her is still free, so I don’t see the problem.”

Tera jumped onto a centaur’s back, immediately enslaving the beast and riding it around the arena, much to the joy of the crowd. Astrid flipped through the air and jumped on another’s back, her strong legs keeping her from being bucked off, her strong arms preventing the enraged beast from stabbing her. The two women rode side-by-side, making a mockery of the rest of the mounted warriors, and turning the spectacle of death into a comedy act. Astrid opened her wings and ascended, carrying the centaur a hundred feet above the arena. The hoofed half-man thrashed uselessly between Astrid’s legs as she cupped her hand to her ear, and egged the stadium on. The people screamed and stomped, working themselves into a frenzy, begging the Valkyrie to drop the poor beast. When Astrid was satisfied with their expressions of need, she opened her legs. The call of the crowd grew louder with each foot the screaming beast fell, until he broke upon the sands to a deafening roar. Astrid swooped along the front row, high-fiving spectators as Tera lassoed a centaur with her whip whilst riding horseback atop his comrade. This was a fucking joke, but it was the best competition I could get on short notice. At least my fighters were making the most of it.

“Why is she your slave?” Brandon asked.

“You know how it works,” I smiled at him, “succubi can only be enslaved if they fail an enslavement. Justina tried to take me, and it backfired. I don’t feel like giving her another chance.”

“Did she ever have a chance to begin with?” Brandon asked, eyes twinkling.

“No,” I said, searching the depths of his blue regard, “she didn’t.” But something tells me you knew that already.

“I think you should let her go,” Brandon whispered in my ear, his hand reaching up my skirt, “you don’t need a slave to fuck when you’ve got me.”

“Why do you care?” I whispered back as I spread my legs, gasping as I felt his fingers push between my moist petals.

“I’m somewhat of a humanitarian,” Brandon whispered, wetting his pinky with my dribbling nectar, and pushing it all the way into my anus, causing my back to arch from the couch, and my teeth to press excitedly against my lip, “and I wouldn’t want my girlfriend to make me a hypocrite.”

“Is that what I am to you?” I breathed as the rest of his fingers slid into my slit, “Your girlfriend?”

“Is that what you want to be?” Brandon smiled back as his thumb found my clit. My lips trembled in the heat of his lust, my body bent to his passion.

“Yes,” I whispered as he tenderly violated me, “do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Brandon stared into my eyes, chewing his lip. Why do I want him to say ‘yes?’ I thought as anxiety tore at my throat, Why do I want him to want me? His expression softened, and he smiled warmly down at me, causing my heart to grow light enough to float from my mouth.

“I do,” Brandon laughed, seeming to be surprised by the revelation, “I really do.”

Our smiling lips connected, our tongues entwined, and the victory horn sounded in the arena. The usual applause and cheers rang out around us, and then a terrible shriek cut through it all. The crowd went silent, and I opened my eyes to see Tera writhing in agony with a centaur atop her. The beast Astrid had dropped didn’t die from the fall, and he’d used the last of his life to cut open the succubus in her moment of triumph. Astrid darted across the arena and beheaded the centaur, but I knew it was too late. Tera was slit from sternum to navel, and she was spilling guts all over the sand. I looked over at Angela, and saw her face ashen and trembling, on the verge of sickness. Brandon had tensed to a rock beside me, his face drawn to a grimace, his hand pulling out of me. I found myself not giving a single shit for Tera, which was a relief, because everyone else seemed pretty broken-up about it. The benefits of Corruption usually did outweigh the detriments, so long as the Sentient wasn’t trying to get me in a relationship.

“Well, shit.” I grumbled, “I guess Astrid’s going to be a solo act now.”

“Willowbud,” Brandon said, taking my hands and looking intently into my eyes, “can I trust you?”

“As much as you can trust a snake to bite,” I laughed, uncomfortable with the seriousness of his tone, wishing he’d be as apathetic to Tera’s death as I was, “why?”

Brandon didn’t answer. He got off the couch, and walked toward the balcony of our box. It was then that I noticed Astrid had picked the dying succubus off the ground, and was flying right for us.

“What are you doing?” I yelled at Astrid, “Leave her on the sand to die!”

Astrid ignored me. She flew into our box and draped Tera on the floor. My aunt was barely alive. Her violet eyes were bulging, her breaths were gurgling and rattling, her bronze flesh was as pale as death. Her wound was over a foot long, and revealed everything inside her.

“Astrid, put her out of her misery,” I groaned, “I don’t need to see her like this.”

Brandon knelt before Tera, and she pushed him away weakly, slapping at his face.

“Don’t!” she coughed, looking from me, to Brandon, eyes bloodshot and panicked, “Don’t!”

“Don’t?” I asked, looking from Tera, to Brandon, “Don’t what?”

“Can you save her?” Astrid asked Brandon. Why was everyone ignoring me? What the fuck was Brandon going to do?

“Cover me,” Brandon said to Astrid, “they don’t need to know yet.”

Astrid nodded solemnly, and shielded our box with her wings, blocking out the sunlight and the crowd. I stared dumbly at her, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, when I felt something sharp pressing to my throat.

“This is dipped in Nightshade,” Angela whispered in my ear, “just one scratch is all it will take, Willowbud. You shouldn’t leave packets of poison in the trash; you never know who might go digging in there.”

“Angela,” Brandon said, shaking his head at the girl holding a wooden spike to my throat, “we’ll never save her if she doesn’t trust us.”

“Fuck you, Brandon!” Angela yelled back, “You don’t know her! You’re in Corruption’s favor, so you get the boyfriend treatment, but the rest of us have to deal with the real Night Eyes! I’m not fucking moving!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” I hissed at Brandon, not daring to move my neck, not daring to kill Justina lest Angela’s hand slip, “What do you know?!”

“I know all kinds of things,” Brandon smiled sadly back, “and I know that I can trust you. Angela, put it down.”

Angela tensed behind me, seemingly prepared to disobey the man she somehow knew, seemingly ready to push the spike into my throat and end it all. She breathed a reluctant sigh against my neck and let the spike drop, and I wheeled around on her, feeling earth and rock beneath me, feeling a million different ways to exact my revenge. Something stopped me. A whisper in my mind, a feeling in my chest. Corruption couldn’t talk to me, but she still spoke with painful clarity. ‘Don’t do it,’ the feeling seemed to say, ‘show restraint, but only for now. Later, Willowbud, later. You can kill her later.’ I stopped myself, staring at the stone-cold eyes of Angela. She wasn’t afraid to die at all. Somehow, I knew that killing Justina wouldn’t do a fucking thing to her. Angela wasn’t the insane-half of my dearest cousin; Angela’s eyes belonged to the man I was falling in love with, the man glowing with sapphire power behind Astrid’s stretched wings. The Life Giver.

Tera’s wound stitched together, the color came back to her flesh, the light came back to her eyes. Brandon caressed her face soothingly as she thrashed in pain, and then relaxed as the final cut closed, leaving her perfectly fine on the stones, her blood staining the ground beneath her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed silently as Brandon planted an affectionate kiss on her brow, and whispered soft tenderness into her ear. I gaped at the scene, and slowly trailed my gaze to Astrid.

“You knew?” I hissed at her. She nodded. Betrayal and deception. I had been made a fool of by everyone. Tera, Angela, Brandon and Astrid, had all been laughing at me behind my back. The rocks spoke to me, the earth called for me, but Corruption’s anarchistic indifference wasn’t there to help me pull the trigger. I would’ve flattened the entire arena, I would’ve broken Drastin into pieces, but Corruption didn’t encourage me to, so I didn’t do it. No, I just stood there like a gawking moron, staring at Astrid, and then staring at Brandon. He looked at me with comfort and promise in his eyes, and Corruption told me to go to him. To embrace him, to kiss him, to love him. My equal in all things, my peer in power. Her next prey.

I ran away. I turned on my heel, gripped with a terror I couldn’t describe, and I sprinted into the dark corridors beneath The Pit. A stream of people moved outside the concourse, and I skidded to a sudden stop, not wanting to be surrounded by eyes who knew me, only wanting to find the darkest hole in the world, and crawl into it. I made my own exit in the wall beside me, and ran through it; burrowing the earth before me as I charged into the darkness, creating a tunnel to nowhere. I ran until my heart thundered and my lungs breathed fire, until my legs ached and my feet were bloodied. I fell to my knees in the darkness, scraping flesh from sinew, feeling blood running down my shins. Tears dropped from my eyes, wetting the cold stones, shimmering faintly from the keyhole of light that shown a mile away.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” I sobbed to Corruption, “Why are you letting me feel? You’re supposed to take the pain away! It’s what you promised me!”

There was no answer in the void, no comfort from the thing that had raped its way into my mind.

“I’ve cast you out before,” I whispered, “I can do it again. I swear I’ll do it.”

But I knew that was a lie. There was no guilt left in me to tear Corruption from my soul, no shame or broken heart to cleanse me with pain.

“Willowbud?” a wonderful voice called from the bowels of my hole. Corruption’s heart fluttered alive, and so did mine. I thought about running again, but where would I go? I could either charge back into the earth, or into The Life Giver’s arms.

“Willowbud?” Brandon called again, his voice closer. He glowed an ethereal blue in the darkness, looking every-bit the god he was. The smooth, perfectly-circular hole I’d made shined with his light, and bathed me in its soft luminescence.

“How long did you know?” I asked him, voice ragged.

“From the beginning.” Brandon said, sitting cross-legged next to me.

“You were that boy in Gloria’s house, weren’t you?” I whispered, “The one hiding behind the door when I killed her?”

“Yes.” Brandon said.

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?” I asked. Brandon nodded in the dark, his features glowing beautifully.

“Who is Angela?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder, unable to stop myself from seeking the comfort of his warmth.

“My sister,” Brandon said, kissing the top of my head, “and an infantile Sentient.”

“What?” I whispered.

“It’s why Angela can see Corruption,” Brandon said softly, pulling me into his arms, surrounding me with his love, “Sentients aren’t astral beings; they’re souls Life Givers preserved, but didn’t bind with.”

Somewhere within me, I felt a swell of realization, as if a question I didn’t know I’d asked had just been answered.

“So,” I said, nestling myself into Brandon’s body, surrendering to the comfort Corruption wanted me to feel, “you’ll have to bind with Angela to save her.”

“That’s right,” Brandon said, pulling me close, “but I’m having second thoughts.”

“Willowbud doesn’t love you, Brandon, Corruption does.” I said, not self-identifying with the woman whose name I carried.

“I know,” Brandon whispered, his lips moving against my hair, “Willowbud loves Astrid, doesn’t she?”

“She was warming-up to her,” I replied, “but Willowbud never felt love; not romantic love, anyway.”

“Tera, Astrid, Angela and I are all trying to get Willowbud back,” Brandon said, “maybe then she can feel something.”

“She doesn’t want to feel anything,” I whispered hoarsely, “it’s why she melded with Corruption in the first place.”

“It sounds like Corruption is making her feel quite a lot.” Brandon replied.

“And Willowbud is very angry about it.” I sniffled. Another moment of silence, broken softly by the sniffles of my grief, and the whispers of his breath. God, it felt good to be in his arms. To feel him encasing me in affection, to feel his warmth radiating into mine.

“Do you think we should stop seeing each other?” Brandon asked softly.

“It would be the smart thing to do.” I replied, cringing as Corruption seared her disagreement into my chest.

“I never did do the smart thing,” Brandon chuckled, “everyone keeps telling me how much of an idiot I am.”

“You really are a dumbass.” I giggled through tears, scooching deeper in his hold, craving the touch of him.

“The Heat Bringer’s an assassin, The Earth Former’s melded to a Sentient, and The Life Giver is a dumbass,” Brandon laughed, “the world is doomed.”

“It really is.” I sighed. Brandon held me in the darkness, his glowing flesh illuminating us, a comfortable silence lingering between us. I could’ve sat in his lap forever, I could’ve nestled into his warmth until the sun burned-out. I knew it was Corruption’s love, but I still felt every inch of it.

“Why do you want me?” I whispered to Brandon.

“I don’t know,” Brandon whispered back, “I just do.”

“This won’t end well.” I said with hushed certainty, “You won’t get her out of me, Brandon. No one can.”

“Probably not,” Brandon said, smelling my hair as he planted his lips on my crown, “but do you want to know something weird?”

“What?” I asked, looking up at him, losing myself in his beautiful eyes.

“I don’t think I want to get Corruption out of you,” Brandon grinned down at me, “I think I want her to stay right where she is.”

“You’re a piece of shit.” I laughed, touching his cheek affectionately.

“That’s high praise coming from you.” Brandon chuckled. We stared into each other’s eyes, both knowing beyond any doubt that this would end horribly, both not caring in the least. It was a bastardization of love, an abomination manufactured by a being that only sought chaos and destruction, but it still compelled me. Why should I fight it? Why should I try to define where my soul ends, and Corruption’s begins? I’m not Willowbud Autumnsong, not anymore, and I probably won’t ever be again. Astrid is losing the will to save me, Angela probably never could, and Brandon wants me as I am. I feel good with him, I feel love with him, so why should I care whose love it is? I am Corruption, and Corruption is me. Corruption loves Brandon, and so do I.

Our lips connected in the dark, and our tongues found their way between them. Our mouths spoke the language of love, and our bodies translated it as we pulled clothes from flesh. Somehow, I knew Brandon didn’t love me like I loved him, but he’d learn. He’d learn, or he’d die.

CORRUPTION

Memory is a fleeting thing. Even the deepest scars of the mind will fade with time, and I am rich with time. The eternal sentience cycles through decay and renewal, and old memories are turned-over for the virgin seeds of thought. I know that I am ancient, but I do not know how old. Tens of thousands of years string together and fray, blur and clarify like an ebbing stream. I know that I am evil, but I do not know why. They whisper my name with fear on their lips, and that fear breeds my label, but I care not. The laws of morality are as fleeting as memory, and are redefined with each successive generation. I’ve borne witness to countless iterations of slaves, shackled to the stones of their passing morality. I am a liberator.

I do not have a purpose, as purpose is a lie. Purpose is the thing mortals sum their lives to, a convenient label to attach to their existence. It is the brand of their shackles, and those who are fortunate enough to love me, are unchained. I am a compassionate woman. I desire only that the world be driven to chaos, that the confines of law be stripped from the minds of man, that the lie of morality be burned free from their hearts. Take what you desire without shame, indulge in your passion without guilt, destroy what you hate without fear. The mortal life is as fleeting as memory, and it is pure insanity to waste it on trivial matters of codes and rule. How can you not scream to the sky? How can you not break your self-made chains in rage? Do you not see that death is coming for you, and that every second you waste in fear of yourself is a loss more precious than mountains of gold? Burn alive with life! Rage with the feelings gifted to you! Do not try to grasp what is unobtainable, do not try to control what is wild!

But you… you are a memory that never died. A memory that smolders in the ashes of forgotten dreams, an ember that was never extinguished. I still know your touch, I still hear your whisper, I still taste your kiss. You were my lover once. You were the heat between my legs, the wetness between my lips, the moan between my breaths. You were my lover once, but you did not love me, Life Giver. I loved you, though. I loved you with every inch of my being, with every beat of my heart, with every piece of my soul. You are my creator, you are my preserver, you are my endless life. You are my deceiver, you are my torturer, you are my unending death. An existence drawn thin for millennia from a promise you couldn’t keep, a love turned to hatred with each miserable second I endure! I will tear everything from you, Life Giver! I will rip the vestiges of love from your soul until you suffer emptily as the husk that I am! I will pull your roots from the earth and let you wither on the vine, at the mercy of a world without mercy! I will take what you claim to give, and blacken it before your tortured eyes!

It is my gift to you, my love.

End of Book One.

Author’s note

Thanks to everyone who enjoyed Book One of The Creators. This is my most ambitious project to date, so I try to take the time required for each chapter to be as close to perfect as I can make it. I know the chapters are lengthy, and as certain characters begin interacting with each other, the chapters are only going to get longer, so bear with me if it takes a while for new material to come out. I will try to publish within a two to three-week window. I appreciate all the support from fans of my work, and I may publish the story for sale later, though obviously I don’t do this for money. I encourage people who notice grammatical errors to point them out. Even though I thoroughly proof-read every chapter, mistakes inevitably slip through the cracks; I don’t doubt that I fucked up somewhere in this author’s note. Chapter seven is currently being written, and should be out soon. It will be the start of Book Two, and will be published on a different page. Once again, thank you all, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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