by A. S. Etaski
Although reassured that I had my Elder’s protection here, I wondered exactly how much she had told this “liaison,” and whether it might harm an agreement I’d just made. I eschewed thinking of specifics in case the Priestess tried to catch me unaware, meditating on the sensitive tip of my new appendage. I waited. No one brought up any part of my trials before Tarra exhaled, squaring her shoulders as she considered my prick, attempting nonchalance.
She lazily pointed at it with her palm up, finger extended. “You wish me to share that with you as an ‘informal’ method?”
My Elder smiled, taking to one knee beside my chair, cradling the Feldeu; she was quite beautiful as she handled me. “Upon reflection, I agree with Sirana. We want to know, we should earn by knowing. Have a taste.”
My eyes widened a little.
Tarra crossed her arms. “You first.”
Manipulating. Still teasing. She’s not really going to—
D’Shea dipped down and put my cock in her mouth, as far as it would go. She stroked it as she sucked, and I reacted just like Callitro, shuddering, eyes rolling up, blurting a cry.
“Elder!”
I reached for that elegant arrangement of white hair without thinking. She anticipated it and snatched my wrist, pressed it down to my thigh, firm but not harsh. Her mouth caressed me, and I almost choked on my own spit. A low rumble in my head remained, a sound like a Dwarven male might make receiving such service, but the anger didn’t burst through weakened barriers; I didn’t drown in fear of being chained.
D’Shea stopped, looked up at my dazed expression. “Sirana.”
She studied me, made sure it was me.
“Y-yes, Elder,” I gasped.
“Sobriety makes a difference, I see.”
“I hate potions, Elder, ‘m’sorry,” I slurred, shivering. “Goddess, please don’t stop.”
“Tarra?”
Ignoring my plea, she offered the Priestess a turn. Admittedly, I was desperate for any warm and wet hole, so I cooperated even as I didn’t want to swap mouths.
I mean, how good can she be sucking cock, compared to a six-century Red Sister?
The Priestess’s hesitation suggested she hadn’t the skill she’d witnessed just now.
What? Too important to suck a rod?
I succumbed to the impulse to prick her aloud. “You led with ease before, Lelinahdara. Do you need a larger audience to act your role? Is that how you get off?”
Again, my Elder let the remark stand unchallenged, her slow, subtle hand helping me keep calm. If she was to “temper” my behavior with the Priestesses, she wasn’t starting now. Tarra disapproved but showed only annoyance.
“Varessa, it’s clear she’s resistant to me, but she wants you. I suggest you ride her and wear her down, while I try my spell again—”
“I’m not your puppet, Priestess,” D’Shea said with resentment. “You can do some of the work.”
“Yes, we work together, doing what we each do best—”
My Elder’s grip on the Feldeu tightened; she was out of patience. “Take a risk like in the other-cycles, Tarra, or don’t. But decide. I have work to do and don’t know when I can drag my novice back here.”
The Priestess ignored the demand. “Yes, why did you ‘drag’ her here now? Didn’t we discuss a different time and place?”
“She’s just visited the Wizard’s Tower and drank something Phaelous made.”
Tarra paused. “Hm.”
What? Why is that important?
Anxiously, I waited for more than I got. After that teasing grunt, the Priestess lowered herself to a level with the Sorceress and wrapped her bare hand right beneath the red glove. Her skin was cool and her hold less assertive as my Elder pointed the black, magical toy in Tarra’s direction. Wrinkling her nose, she deigned to lean over and wrap her lips around the tip. She offered a lingering suck that seemed the bare minimum she could do to satisfy my Elder, because such a weak effort wouldn’t satisfy me.
Given the orgies they orchestrated, given their need for young Davrin to mount each other using every hole, I’d not taken the Priestesses for being bad at sex. Yet, while directing it all and seeming involved, Lelinahdara had let four Red Sisters do all the “work” leading up to the dagger slipping between my legs. I still didn’t know what they had done to Gaelan after the Ornilleth battle, but my Sister hadn’t been satisfied.
~Too high to remember how to suck. Arrogant cunt, I’ll make you remember.~
A mental image seized me: my hands grabbing the Priestess by the back of her head, my hips jerking up, ramming the pole down her throat to make her gag. To choke her.
My heart throbbed in my chest; it scared me to remember that it had been me. My throat, and Kain’s thick prick.
“Shhh,” my Elder shushed, stroking me with more skill than the Priestess. She reached to caress my bare hip and buttock with her free hand, touching without restraining me. “Relax, Sirana. Trust me.”
Quivering, still frightened, I blinked. Trust you?
How many could even ask me that, and I might consider? Only a few new Sisters; Jaunda, Gaelan, Rausery, Cilyan. If them, then why not the Sorceress who wanted me for the Sisterhood in the first place? The one who let me escape unpunished—thus far—after I’d so brutally forced myself between her thighs. After I’d struck and bit her, used her for one-sided pleasure.
She could have let me give up afterward and stop breathing, as Kain did.
She hadn’t. My Elder had encouraged me to breathe.
D’Shea watched me now; I stared back. I sensed a subtle manipulation happening, as if she stroked something intangible alongside the staff attached between my legs. Lelinahdara only shared in it because she had her mouth on me; she let the Elder take the lead this time. It fascinated me to realize it.
No formal ritual this time, she’d said. I can’t tell you what to do. Take a risk.
Perhaps a sorceress was better than a Priestess at informal spells.
But what are you doing to me?
The Priestess stopped sucking too soon. “Her resistance does not soften.”
“Neither do you,” I gibed, annoyed.
D’Shea sighed and gave up. She stood and left my cock in Tarra’s wan hand, taking a seat at the vanity to drop her cloak and unlace her boots and leathers. I stared at her, felt only wanting; I held a silent wish, but I dared not ask.
“Perhaps I should light some incense,” the Priestess suggested.
“No,” D’Shea replied. “We stay sober this first time.”
Tarra shook her head. “The powerful magic doesn’t work that way. You said take a risk.”
“Without a crutch. We need a control. A baseline.”
“A waste of time.”
“If you think so, you have forgotten a lot, Tarra.”
Though I grasped there was history between my Elder and Lelinahdara which didn’t involve the Priesthood, the Feldeu kept my attention on the female flesh being revealed. There was little room for thought as D’Shea stripped down, removing boots, stockings, and leathers, displaying herself naked from the waist down. Her slit was aroused, the color of her netherlips a deep, reddish-purple beneath stark white puff of short and straight fur adorning her mound. Her hips were lush, her thighs strong, legs long with feet made for seductive sandals.
Goddess. And I’d had her, my first time. I squirmed, wanting her again.
Returning to us, D’Shea stepped in front of me as Tarra moved back. The Sorceress presented her backside to me with a slight sway, and I caught a familiar whiff, untouched by wine. My damp cock ached.
“Will you make atonement for your behavior earlier, Sirana?” she asked me from over her shoulder.
Which time? The drunken rut or the Wizard’s Tower?
“Yes, Elder,” I responded, staring at her ass.
Answering my prayer, she bent over, legs splayed, and I sucked in a breath at the sight. My heart skipped as I spied
her fingers caressing herself. Her other hand reached back and spread a buttock, showing me every fold and crease in the dim light.
“Eat,” she commanded.
“Yes, Elder.”
I dove in, starting with her slit, my nose pressed to her star. She hummed in encouragement, angled her hips better, and I sucked and slurped, reaching to stroke the Feldeu at the same time. My nose and tongue overtaken with my Elder’s essence, my lips and cheeks enfolded by the warmth of her skin, I didn’t care how much like a bua I was acting.
I listened to her breathing shudder and change; I heard sounds that she was pleased. Extending my tongue down as far as I could reach, I licked the juices from damp fingers dancing over her clit, and she chuckled. I sucked and tenderly chewed on her netherlips then raised my chin to swirl my tongue around and around her asshole. It relaxed swiftly, much quicker than Callitro, and she cooed.
“Good cait,” she breathed. “The Sisters taught you well.”
That they had. I served with enthusiasm; I stroked myself harder, drifting in contentment for a while before catching myself in a whine as she pulled my dish away.
“Sit back,” she ordered.
I centered myself, and my Elder backed up to settle on my lap, her naked backside pressed to my gut, her red armor protecting her back. I felt her hand take the Feldeu between her thighs, held my breath as she raised up and aimed it for a place which I knew was hot and slick. I saw none of this; I felt her take my cock inside as she squatted down, her body wrapping around me, swallowing me up. I moaned loudly, clutching her hips.
“Sirana?” she breathed. “A-answer me.”
“Y-yes, Elder,” I forced out.
The memory of Kain was not rising, I knew, although I continued to experience flashes of impulse or profound thoughts which seemed alien. Outwardly, nothing changed as D’Shea fucked me, riding the broad Feldeu, although my glimpses of the act, my perception flipped from serving to being served and back again. Perhaps only the tone of my growl might be an indication which view I had at any given moment.
I can’t focus. I can’t choose.
Then something fluttered against my shaft, and I opened my eyes to see another pair of Davrin hands holding D’Shea by the thighs. Tarra kneeled in front of her, moving with us, her mouth’s focus tight on my Elder’s flesh right above where I speared her; the lick I’d felt had been an accident. The Priestess pleased the Sorceress to such an extent, I felt the clutches and ripples around me, I heard the Sorceress’ delight as her climax approached.
Tarra did have some talent. It just wasn’t with a phallus.
“Yeah!” D’Shea grunted like she’d just reached the top of the Great Cavern itself. Swept along with her, I rammed my cock inside, good and hard.
“Yes! Oh! Again!”
She likes cock.
Bracing my heels, I thrust up, held her tight to me as I fucked her, my head seeming about to explode as the Sorceress howled her release. Her body milked the phallus that connected us, fiery magic arching from her to me. I couldn’t stop it. I came so strongly my body and mind locked up.
I heard a whisper like scattered grit blown over naked stone, and then I blacked out.
When I could breathe, when I could see again, I still sat in the padded chair, now wretchedly stained. My legs were splayed; pants were trapped around my boots; my fur was matted down, and my cunt was sore, empty, buzzing. I felt satisfied, so relaxed I could barely move. Elder D’Shea had had time to put her leathers and stockings back on, though she was still in the process of putting on her boots. Tarra stood with her back straight, arms crossed, her robes barely wrinkled.
They noticed me waking at the same time.
“You stopped breathing again, Sirana,” my Elder said, jerking at her boot, stomping her foot into place. “But it returned to normal after you lost consciousness.”
“Inconvenient,” the Priestess remarked, smirking at me. “But not invariably lethal. How do you feel?”
Tarra seemed much more confident now. I wasn’t, and I knew I sounded groggy.
“Like after the trials.”
“Be specific,” my Elder ordered.
“The altar,” I lied. “The Threshold.”
Tarra tilted her head in surprise. “Oh? This is not what I feel, Sirana.”
“Maybe not,” I grumbled, “but it’s the only other time I passed out after cumming.”
“Hm. Well, the Dwarf we sought never surfaced, so that is a failure.”
“I have my baseline, Tarra,” my Elder objected as she stood up, her uniform complete.
“I’m not sure what we have, Varessa. I am only certain it’s not my magic lingering.” The Priestess glanced at me, appraising. “It’s someone else. Or something else. Perhaps we’ll need a psion to make any progress.”
My Elder snorted, offering me one of her cloths from her belt. “Finding one of those as an ally would be like finding a live spider encrusted with diamonds.”
“There are one or two weak ones in the dungeons.” The Priestess snickered. “Psions, not diamond spiders.”
My Elder made a face, answering seriously. “No. We’ll test all the arcane and divine paths, first. Something is sure to break loose.” D’Shea noticed me holding her cloth and staring. “Wipe down, Sirana. Get dressed.”
I obeyed, but Tarra filled the silence while I did.
“Varessa and I have purged the Headmaster’s potion from your body, Sirana. No ill effect we could sense, just the suppressed fertility as he claimed. It’s been neutralized now. You’re back to a normal state.”
I glanced at my Elder to test that truth and saw confirmation. Fuck. “Why heighten my chances sooner than necessary?”
“Discipline,” the Sorceress said, browsing an item atop the vanity. She didn’t look at me. “The Sisterhood must control their demons, Sirana.”
Tarra laughed in delight. “Almost on level with the Priesthood, no?”
“Almost,” D’Shea replied.
If the intent of the Priestess had been to barb the Red Sisters, my Elder sounded bored. Or distracted. The moment I was ready, she spoke formally to our liaison.
“Thank you for your assistance, Priestess. We’ll discuss the next step after I’ve refined the method.”
Lelinahdara shrugged. “As you wish. Keep me informed, and we shall keep this between us for as long as we can.”
“As agreed.”
Although I was the subject, I was not part of this deal. Wordlessly, I followed my Elder out and back into the spyways with more leather-cleaning on my chore list. I was dazed, still unsure what to think or how to feel. I knew I was being used and would be used yet again, but I was also protected; I didn’t know enough to take action alone or fight too hard against either Elder or Priestess.
Lelinahdara was right. I only ‘acted’ possessed because I could say those things without being lashed. This time.
It seemed stupid of me in retrospect, though. Tarra wasn’t a wannabe like Jilrina.
In the tunnel leading toward the Cloister, D’Shea gestured in front of my face, demanding my attention. *Thoughts, Sirana?*
She still asked that question. I was lucky. That whole tangled scene played through again. I lifted my hand. *Proud to serve you, Elder. I am fortunate to have your tolerance.*
She expressed her surprise with a raised eyebrow, but she nodded. *Will you cooperate if I must alter your mind next time?*
*You?* I asked clarification. *Or her?*
*Me, with her assistance.*
*Then, yes. Although forgive the question, why need her at all? She said the magic wasn’t hers.*
*Because she knows enough detail, and this is the deal between us. She is not useless to us, I only needed to remind her of her roots and the workings of my Feldeu.*
*Meaning the Priesthood didn’t create them,* I claimed on gut instinct.
My Elder paused, her expression turning a little cold. *No, they did not. I
doubt any female mage could create one so realistic to satisfy the Prime.*
I guessed the obvious. *The Headmaster?*
Elder D’Shea held her eyes on me so long, my skin itched. *His grandsire. And the acting Headmaster retains the grimoire.*
Grand…sire?
Unable to fathom the time between an already ancient Phaelous and his grandsire, I fell silent. Knowing how long a Feldeu lasted and whether it was passed down among Sisters might tell me whether Phaelous had made my Elder’s tool or not, but D’Shea didn’t have to spell out that I’d reached my quota of answers. I’d received my reward for making the connection so quickly, but she was finished with the subject.
Nonetheless, the Headmaster’s warm, soothing voice returned to me on the way back to the Cloister.
Give my regards to your Elder.
Over the next span, D’Shea kept me out of missions which required two or more Sisters; in fact, very little of it needed me to go far from the Cloister. Auslan received a reprieve from my spying, and Houses Itlaun and Aurenthin would have gone about their doings without me there to watch. Although I was certain Gaelan noticed—given we were both avoiding the other’s quarters, probably by instruction—she never had an opportunity to remark on it in my presence.
Jaunda did, once, as she received a mission to retrieve a familiar healer-Noble from the Fifth House for “questioning.” She gestured at where I measured shelf-stable rations, though our Elder Sorceress didn’t even look my way.
“Want me to break her in?”
“Not this time, thank you, Lead.”
“Yes, Elder.”
I read from the dry smirk on my Lead’s face that she knew I was in trouble. Other Sisters even seemed to avoid me, leading from one span to two.
“It’s Reishel,” Corpora Cilyan had offered as a hint after the first span, when I was hungry for any morsel. “The Prime is testing her. Elder D’Shea aids the process.”
I nodded, my stomach flipping to recall the other two, dead in their cots almost a quad-span ago. I remembered the sound of Reishel’s scream as she woke up a couple of cycles earlier.