No Demons But Us

by A. S. Etaski

  The first opening I gave her, she swept my feet out from under me, and I fell again. My vision turned pure red; I was blind, my mind blank as I rolled, got my feet, and charged back. My opponent was ready for me; she turned and connected a well-placed kick to my head, and I went down, stunned.

  In that time, she rolled me, tied my hands behind my back and my ankles to my hands with the other leather thong I’d set aside, taking back the lasso she’d used at the start. My throat was sore, my neck burned; I coughed and drooled a little. I made a sound halfway between a moan and a growl, blinking blearily toward the table and its movement. I mostly saw two sets of feet and legs, but I knew she had removed the root from my farmer’s mouth because I heard him moaning in relief and gasping for air.

  She asked quietly, “Did you release inside her? Even one time?”

  “N-no, Red Sister,” he panted, his relief at being able to claim this palatable. “No, what you see on me is…my only release.”

  “Looks like it. Impressive.”

  She sounded amused at the quantity that implied. Meanwhile, my womb, no, my entire gut, felt like a bed of smoldering coals threatening to flare up again. I pulled at the restraints. They were too tight.

  “Let me go!” I demanded in a deadly voice. “Get away from him!”

  The farmer still lashed to the table flinched, but the Red Sister didn’t even acknowledge me. Instead, she cut him free, and he rolled off the table, pulling down his wrap to cover himself. Falling to his knees, trembling, he kept his eyes on the floor. I could see the damp stains all over his clothes. He hadn’t lasted two instants after I’d been pulled off before spurting his load.

  What a waste, I thought viciously.

  “You will tell your Matron nothing of this,” the Red Sister commanded him. “You will clean yourself up and never speak of it.”

  “Nothing happened, Red Sister,” he answered. “This cycle was as uneventful as the last.”

  He sounded like he believed it.

  “I need your clothes,” she said. “I will burn them while you watch.”

  He didn’t hesitate to strip nude in front of her, and I groaned in abject misery at what had been taken away. But for rope burns I saw around his wrists, he was flawless.

  The Red Sister did as she promised, lighting a cooking fire and disposing of his ruined clothing. I wasted time on useless threats as my lust seized me again, and the Red Sister gagged me. Meanwhile, my stolen prize grabbed a blanket from another room to cover his body. The lone male watched in silence as the red warrior collected my dagger from the counter, attached it to her belt, and then collected me from the floor in her arms. I thrashed and struggled indignantly, gnashing my teeth and snarling in frustration, her fine, leather armor a clashing sensation with the tools against my bare skin as she carried me outside.

  There was a mount waiting in full tack and bridle, the Davrin-bred reptilians kept only by the elite and wealthy. The Queen’s Sister threw me belly-down just in front of the saddle before mounting up behind me. Her arm pressed me down firmly when I arched my back, preventing me from squirming my way off. Next, it sank into my addled mind that my ankles were still tied to my wrists, and toppling off for spite might break my neck, or if it didn’t, how would I run?

  I was covered in sweat and quivering, but the distance from the Davrin male helped to clear my head a little. The lizard carried us away, and I was given quiet enough to replay what had just happened. Everything from the moment I broke the surface of the water in the reservoir. What was that total and terrifying loss of control? How could I rape him like that? Was I mad?

  I didn’t even know his name.

  Soon I focused on the ridge of the mount’s back pressing into me; it was difficult to breathe. I tried to look over my shoulder, but the Sister would just turn my head back toward the passing ground. I could see her long, red boots, though, and wondered at my urge to rub my cheek against them.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  “You remember you’re fertile now, don’t you?” she asked.

  I resisted spewing expletives at her. How could I forget? These Abyssal surges of mating heats had been everything about my life for cycles!

  “You can’t catch right now,” she added.

  “And if I do?” I asked caustically.

  “Well, for one, you would force a decision not in your hands which you might not like. Do you want details?”

  I scowled at the ground but was silent. This was new territory. I’d never had to be concerned before. Although I blamed my infertility from a botched ritual for my banishment to Court, I didn’t want to blame my fertility from a successful one for ending my life before ever having my chance at the Sisterhood.

  The realization came back around for me in full. I’m fertile.

  “For another,” the Sister continued, “the particular stud you attacked was a poor choice.”

  I sneered. “He was the best choice.”

  “I agree, one of the best. In fact, had you been of clear mind, would you have wondered why there was a circlet around his neck? One with a crest on it?”

  I was quiet. I had noticed the circlet as part of his jewelry. I hadn’t seen any crest, even being right on top of him.

  “Which House?” I asked warily. My cunt was buzzing but talking with another helped me think of something besides that.

  “Not just the House, Sirana. The crest. D’Verin’s standard, but with the round belly silhouette.”

  My stomach went cold.

  “Fffuuuck,” I hissed with the abrupt pounding of my heart.

  I can tell you are no commoner, Mistress. Please think about what you are doing.

  He’d been trying to tell me. How could I have expected that?

  You didn’t have to, because he wore the goddess-damned circlet, you cunthead.

  I blurted, “What the fuck was a Royal Consort doing way out there all alone?!”

  The Red Sister chuckled. “The land plot is D’Verin, and I hear Bred Consorts sometimes ask for odd rewards in their service to a Matron. It seemed he asked for some solitude, and it was granted.”

  “What?!” I barked. “That’s the stupidest thing to do with a Consort!”

  “Shh, Sirana. The second stupidest, maybe,” she teased me. “There were protections in place. I know you must have bullied him into releasing the Wards in the house, but the ones around the plot’s borders weren’t tripped. I think Elder D’Shea will find that very interesting.”

  When I said nothing, the Red Sister continued to poke at me. “You could have carried a sought-after line. Elder D’Shea would probably lose you to the fangs of the Driders after you gave birth. No telling whether D’Verin would get the child or whether she would be raised by the Priestesses.”

  Never. I ground my teeth, too furious with the very idea to think about being fed to monsters. “Are you saying you saved my life?”

  “We both know I did, Sirana.”

  “And how did you just happen to be in the right spot to interrupt?” I asked with very little grace.

  She laughed softly. “I was far too late, as far as I’m concerned. We’ve been watching you. My Elder will have to check you over, just to be sure you didn’t catch just now.”

  My stomach heated up a little in anxiety, but not from a thought of pregnancy. “Watching me. For how long?”

  She was silent a moment, but answered, “You’ll figure that out. You’re smart.”

  Damn it.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere more comfortable.”

  “Why?”

  “No demons but us, Sirana.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. This had all been some test, I knew, but I didn’t know how I’d fared. Fortunately, this Red Sister granted me one small mercy there.

  “While you’re in heat like this, you’d best stick to the Sisters. We can fuck you three ways from the Abyss until the effects of the ritual wear off
.”

  Meaning that it will wear off. Oh, Goddess, thank you!

  Such relief at that moment, before the rest of it sank in.

  “Wait, what?” I turned my head to look at her again, and this time she let me see her face inside her red hood. My eyes widened. “Gaelan?”

  The youngest Red Sister I’d seen thus far grinned at me and caressed my naked backside, then gave me a sharp slap which made me jerk on the saddle. It sparked and fanned my arousal in an instant, just that one smack, and I groaned. Her gloved hand caressed me some more and slipped between my thighs, stroking my tacky netherlips; I garbled an encouragement before she withdrew quickly and slapped my other cheek.

  “Slit.” My nipples tightened and brushed against the saddle as I gasped for breath. “Don’t tease me.”

  “Why not?”

  Her hand slid down my back and over my bottom, making my skin tingle and come alive. Her fingers returned to my netherlips, slipping right between them and into my soggy sex. I stiffened and found myself trying to hump back against them, but she withdrew her hand again, leaving me empty, my hands able to grab at nothing.

  “Oh, Braqth,” I moaned in agony.

  “Will you repay me in kind, Sirana? I think you owe me.”

  My teeth gritted. I wanted to say yes. “In kind, meaning?”

  “Well.” Her hand returned to my crotch. “You know what my mouth feels like here.”

  She flicked my clitoris, and I cried out.

  “And you know what it feels like…here.” She plunged two fingers into my slit, and I thrashed very much like the Consort had before she withdrew. “And, most especially, here.”

  She pressed a finger straight into my anus and held it there as I strained, unable to be still. That she wouldn’t move it was torturous; I was very, very close to climaxing.

  “I want to know how your mouth feels.”

  “Please, please,” I begged.

  Even if this had been the wizard and not Gaelan, I still would have begged. There was no fooling myself.

  “Will you repay me in kind, Sirana?”

  “Yes,” I gasped. “Yes.”

  “If we have the means to satisfy your every craving, would you submit to anything we told you?”

  “Yes!” I cried, angry for losing my climax, for falling back from the edge. “What d-do you want?”

  “We want quite a lot.”

  Gaelan urged the lizard mount to climb at one point, and I tensed as I waited to roll off, but she held me tightly against her, one arm clasped about my waist as I was pressed into her warm belly and thighs. Discomfort started to overtake my arousal as Gaelan stopped playing with me; the position in which I was tied with my head hanging down for the last quarter mark took its toll, and I moaned softly in pain when jostled.

  I became aware of us riding into a cave. It was just big enough for Gaelan to lean down, covering me cross-ways with her chin close to the body of the lizard. It was deep; I lost track of time before Gaelan could sit up straight again, but finally, she stopped the mount and got off, tethering the lazy-eyed animal to a post near the exit.

  I heard her drawing a blade and tensed before realizing she had severed my bonds. She gave me plenty of time to unfold my legs and try to bring my arms forward. I would have fallen off if she hadn’t caught me and set me to the ground.

  I looked at her. She was familiar, I thought. Maybe from somewhere before the trials in the candle chamber, but I couldn’t place it. Around Court, perhaps? The Red Sisters might not always wear their uniforms when they were watching us. She began rubbing the circulation back into my limbs, which hurt almost as much as just before they had gone numb.

  “Shh, don’t be too loud,” she said as I made my discomfort known.

  I made no reply, but I studied her face as pins and needles swept through my calves, to focus on something other than pain. Gaelan was fine-boned compared to some, her large eyes tilted slightly upward, her cheeks high and her nose on the short side but broader at the nostril. Her lips were fuller than mine, her chin strong enough, and I saw a swollen spot where I’d managed to strike her jaw, though I barely remembered connecting. Her hair was tied up in a tight braid and coiled at her nape.

  After she finished, I sighed, relaxing a moment, and Gaelan ran her hand up my thigh, cupping my mound and I flinched, gulping down a cry as my sex flared to life again. She chuckled and pointed farther back into the cavern.

  “Go to the chaise.”

  I blinked and turned my head. She was correct, there was a chaise back there, plus a few other seats against the stone wall. The chamber also contained a small fountain built into the stone; only as I recognized it did I smell a bit of fresh water though no burble or trickle. The simple furniture looked to be set up as a place from which to watch whatever might be happening in the middle, which was a clear space but with a few convenient chains hanging down, bolted into the rock above. It was then that I recognized several familiar devices and contraptions pushed along the opposite side from the furniture.

  “This is an interrogation room,” I murmured.

  “Still more comfortable than bare stone or farmers’ mud, wouldn’t you say? And private.” She paused before repeating, “Go to the chaise.”

  She hadn’t said how to get there, though, so I made an actual effort to stand and walk there as she removed her gloves. She took the opportunity to touch me as I first rolled stiffly to all fours, tugging on my fur before dipping a bare finger inside my sex and I gasped and lost track of what I was doing for a moment. I stayed on all fours, waiting for more.

  With a firm pat to my rump leaving a wet fingerprint, she encouraged me to move forward. “Go on.”

  I had to crawl for the first little ways but regained unsteady feet. She didn’t obstruct my efforts further, only paced me, standing behind where I could not see her without turning—though I didn’t dare turn. When I reached the lounge, I stood there looking at it.

  Gaelan came into my view at the head of the chaise, and she gestured. “On your hands and knees, facing me.”

  That would mean I should take to the foot of the chaise. I got down slowly on all fours with my knees not quite at the edge and positioned myself. The velvety material was cool and a bit dusty, but soft; infinitely preferable to the hard stone. My sex pulsed in anticipation, as if I could expect someone—or more than one—to step up and satisfy me from behind, as during the ritual orgy from a decade ago.

  Not impossible.

  A Red Sister, maybe this one, could have the tool I craved most, even being female. I’d seen enough executions by them, I knew they used false phalli in painful and terrifying ways. From the sound of her voice so far, Gaelan did not sound as though she intended to cause me pain. Not as long as I obeyed.

  I watched the Red Sister disarm and undress. I should have been paying better attention to every detail, memorizing every piece she removed.

  Cloak, satchel, gloves, bracers, a belt of pouches, weapons, small vials—

  When she tugged off her leather boots, slow and sensual, to reveal long legs and red-stocking feet, I surprised myself. The reveal of her bare, wiggling toes was startlingly arousing. She stood again, unbuckling the red leather armor, peeling off pieces to reveal either more skin or dark, soft, form-fitting underclothes against chafing. Those were also removed.

  I stared, my mind muddled. With the air on my empty sex alongside my insatiate appetite, I did not have the focus as I wished, and I kept waiting to see something like the black toys they strapped to themselves before someone was going to die. But even looking for a distinctly male trait, part of me was embarrassed to admit that this naked Red Sister, with all her female characteristics, was as alluring and attractive in her way as the bound Consort had been.

  Gaelan took down her hair, too, removed it from the severe braid as I’d demanded of the pretty bua only marks earlier. It was much longer than it had looked. It flowed white and soft, matching the tuft between
her legs. She was beautiful, standing with a poised grace that mimicked the very Spider Lady we worshipped: light on one’s feet, defined muscles coiled, ready for action.

  She smiled at my expression. “Shall I show you more?”

  It took me a moment.

  “All you can,” I forced out, figuring she would anyway. I didn’t know which to expect, if I might recognize pure female lust and techniques all too well, or if she really would, somehow, satisfy my “every” craving.

  She leaned down to pluck up a small leather satchel from her pile of belongings. My eyes widened, tightly focused on that bag. What she pulled from it caused me to exhale. An erect, black phallus of right size. It flopped and waved with a realistic weight to it, so it wasn’t made of glass or marble. It was the right color for Davrin flesh as well. I swallowed, an unfortunate thought and disgust showing on my face.

  Gaelan laughed, sitting on the edge of the chaise facing me, her legs wide apart where I could see her all of her. “No, Sirana. It’s not a body part.”

  “Why does it look so real?”

  “It’s a magical device. Fine craftsmanship, no?”

  I pursed my lips. I supposed it was, but it was unwieldy. “Want me to use it on myself?”

  “No, I’m going to fuck you with it. And get off on it, too.”

  I almost snorted my disbelief in her face, even as my sex complained of asking questions when there was a penetrating toy so near. “Oh? Where’s your harness?”

  “Don’t need one. Here, watch.”

  I watched with wide eyes as she parted her netherlips with one hand and fit one end of the phallus into her sex with a pleasured sigh. Then she stroked and molded the very realistic erection to conform to her body. She murmured a soft word, and a spell was fulfilled, magic plucking at the very edge of my senses.

  There was a shimmer like that in an illusion; the phallus connected to her and anchored itself in what appeared a solid hold. It didn’t look to me as though she was suddenly male; there were no testicles, and I could still trace the ridge back to the part that was lodged inside her body, her cunt visibly wrapped around it and holding it close. However, she needed no strap or halter to keep it in place, just as she said. She lifted both hands in the air with flare and grinned, sporting a proud and satisfactory cock.