The Creators: Book One

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.