Archive for September 2013

Author’s Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. (c) Etaski 2013

The bridge which leads to answers which leads to questions. :)


Chapter 7

My short time being the youngest Red Sister had taught me many things, or reinforced lessons learned from my family. One of them was that lying out of fear, with far less knowledge of a situation than the one to whom I am lying, never worked in my favor. A successful lie, as with any bluff, worked best from a position of strength—or the outward illusion of strength.

I did not have either in Brom’s room.

I stood without weapons or armor, with my hands braced against a chest of drawers near a Human-sized bed. I was still looking at the firebird design of the gold ring in front of me, a decorated echo to the simpler magical ring I wore on my right hand.

The large Man loomed over my back—an allowance which had started out a playful curiosity on my part but shifted quickly to one of threat and vulnerability when I recognized his ring. He had his left arm hooked around my torso, palming my right breast and pressing fingers firmly into my side through my black shirt. My feet were bare, but he wore thick, hard-soled boots that could crush my toes quite easily.

There was no space between my back and his chest; the building and aggressive heat was notable and I kept my hands in full view for survival—for both me and my unborn. Brom seemed to note my intent, and his large, right hand moved back from near my own on the chest to brush my hair to the side, take the cord of Kurn’s ruby pendant and to lift that over my head. He flung it far behind us; I heard it land and likely slide beneath a piece of furniture. Next he slid that hand down to squeeze my right buttock through my black leathers.

Despite that first, unpleasant, cold wave that had passed through me in those moments when I realized I had been completely fooled and led into a trap where I may not walk out, I understood what was unsaid now and almost felt better for a moment.

Thanks to my Sisters, being bested and forced to couple on male-dominant terms was not an additional fear or anger to lump on top of the rest. In my experience, that it would be fighting the wrong battle. Some of my tension now softened, just a little, because the fact that Brom still wanted to mount me most likely meant I would not be killed immediately.

He had squeezed my flesh firmly, but it had not hurt. Time would tell if this would be only to pleasure himself or to torture and injure me as a surrogate for vengeance against the Valsharess. If the latter, my battle would not be sex; it would be either straight killing or pure endurance. One of the two. The sex was the least important part in that scenario.

I still had time; I could still talk, which meant I still had a chance.

“I do not know who you are, Brom,” I murmured. “I was never supposed to know of the ring or the mage who wore it. Perhaps my queen once searched for him, but I do not know when this was, or if it is still the case… or even if the target was you. You do not match the description.”

The innkeeper—which was probably the least accurate name of many—listened as I answered his questions, even the one that had been more threat to intimidate me and make clear his stance with the queen.

“Not in this form,” he said, and he placed his right hand back beside mine where I could see it, and I watched as the magic shimmer and show one reality passing to the next.

The hand aged, it had more wrinkles but did not lack in strength from the moment before. The light brown hair that had lightly coated his wrist and the back of his hand turned to silver with touches of black and grey. The hand matched exactly what I had seen in Rausery’s memory, even neither wearing the ring nor holding the red-rune dagger.

“Look up,” he commanded.

I raised my eyes to the small mirror atop the chest of drawers, and he shifted slightly so that we could make eye contact without turning my head. I’d never seen the face before, but it looked like an older, more venerable version of what he had been at the start of the evening. The bone structure remained the same, still different from the pale Men around him in the tavern though it was hard for me to say exactly why. His eyes were the same intense, slate grey; he possessed more creases around those eyes and the corners of his mouth, but again, he had not lost any strength showing me what lay beneath the illusion. He was still a big Man.

Most striking to me was how his hair had become pure white, like mine, and that his skin was now quite a bit darker brown than it had been before. His coloring was more Drow than not, even if I saw a purely Human form in every other way. It seemed to combat the age lines in my view, and he looked mature and experienced, even attractive to me. His aura throbbed with power and he possessed an unnamed presence, truly appearing like a male counterpoint to the Valsharess.

How old was he?

He eyes narrowed at me in the mirror, one brow quirked, and he grunted, “Hm. You don’t know my face.”

“No,” I confirmed.

“And my name?”

“If it is not Brom, then no.”

One corner of his mouth drew up. “How old are you, Sirana? You can’t be far into your second century.”

I tamped down the temptation to be embarrassed or irritated about that, I could not change my youth after all, but I did believe—somehow—that this Human was much older than me. Only a strongly magical being might ever have the chance to extend his life beyond the natural span for his race.

Magical, and with strong ambition and the motivation.

“I am that,” I answered.

“Perhaps that is why it was so easy,” he murmured, his lips close to my hair. “It must be your first time on the surface in all your life. You have never seen the sunrise before this journey, have you?”

He waited and stared at me in the mirror.

“True,” I answered, trying to keep my face and my tone neutral.

He didn’t say more at first, he just stared in the mirror and I felt the pads of his fingers against my ribs begin to rub my skin through the shirt as his palm moved in slow circles against my breast. Quite unbidden, my nipple hardened and I felt the sensitivity again, that edge of pleasure-pain as my breasts felt more swollen and tender than they had when Rausery had touched them atop the mountain under the Moons.

More than this, some part of my own aura was being manipulated by his, I was sure. I’d long since stopped suppressing it and he would have my pitiable measure by comparison. The uneven flush of energy would arouse me, I already knew, because that was how I’d learned to respond to a challenge for dominance. I could submit and be used quite thoroughly, or I could best the other and top them; looking toward either result did not change the somatic response to a challenge. I grew hot between my legs regardless.

“Many things I want to know from you, now that we’re both unmasked,” Brom said, inhaling near my neck, his right hand disappearing again and I felt him tugging at the leather thongs at my hip. “But I will better be able to concentrate once we’ve finished what we started. Will you be foolish and try to deny me?”

The unique feeling of someone else loosening my leathers encouraged blood flow to my sex and I felt my netherlips swelling; soon my sex ached. I was not with Jaunda or another of my Sisters, and I was long out of a training scenario. This Man could very well try to kill me as he mated me, but…if he meant what he just said, that he had questions for me for afterward, then I did not think he would unless he lost control in a big way.

I had yet to observe the sorcerer lose any control yet.

He had switched his grip around my torso to untie the thong at my left hip next, loosening my pants considerably but not so they’d slip down. Before I’d even decided if that last question was worth an answer, he slipped his hand down the back—not unlike I’d done to Kurn very recently to drug him—and, with his calloused palm cupping my backside, his two middle fingers slid between my cheeks and thighs, and ran over the slick glaze already gracing my sex.

I bit back a gasp at the surge of pleasure—long weeks without sex for me worked in his favor as well—and I saw him smile in the mirror. He could still tell I’d liked it even without sound as my body tensed and I arched my back just slightly, pressing my rump into his hand. What was more interesting to me was that he shivered, his eyes closing for a moment as some sort of intense feeling had swept through him as well and I felt him push his erection into my left hip.

It was the first time he’d taken his eyes off me.

“Yes,” he said thickly as he looked back in the mirror, “you will take me however I like. You are young, but not stupid enough to fight at this point.”

True, not at this point. There were many ways to fight, but as soon as I had closed and secured the doors to his den myself, that had made it certain that—should he so choose— I would discover how Human cock varied from Drow or Draegloth, or even Duergar.

“Have you met many stupid Drow?” I asked without attitude, more curiosity, as his right hand finally released my breast and he used both hands to push my leathers down to mid-thigh. I could feel the air cooling the moisture on my lips and my sex tingled in anticipation of being filled.

Brom ran his hands across my bare backside, along my hips and flanks then my ribs, pushing my shirt up to bunch at my shoulders while exploring my skin. He paused when he saw the healing cuts on my back; the small bandages Gavin had used had already been removed much earlier when they’d gotten soaked in the rain.

“You may let go of the chest long enough to remove your shirt.”

I released the finely-carved, wooden chest to draw my shirt over my head and strip it off, tossing to the right. I placed my hands back afterward, now wearing nothing but my leather pants bunched just above my knees. He grunted at my cooperation and I felt him touch the new scabs on my back. I tensed, he whispered, and I felt the distinct warmth of healing energy spreading across my injuries. They itched a little, but I knew they were closing, the scabs falling off.

It only took a moment, and Brom smoothed his palm over the new skin before again reaching to cup my tender breasts in both hands, squeezing them before running one down my still-flat stomach to play with my mound fur. He stroked my naked netherlips with an oddly light touch for his size. Hot lips kissed my bare shoulder and he pressed the ridge of his erection, still trapped beneath his trousers, against my bare ass.

I could not keep my breath even, and I had nearly forgotten to expect a response to my question when he spoke something quietly that sent tremors down my spine.

“Yulansho ignithi Drowh bregna,” he murmured in my native language.

The accent not so much odd as it was…old.

There was the classic beauty of the Valsharess and some of the older Houses, like Jael’s House Aurenthin, varying in appearance from the majority after all the time spent in the Underdark breeding to maintain our place and grow our power. Unlike House Aurenthin, however, the queen—and perhaps the Prime—also had a slightly different manner of speech than those of us so much younger than them. Perhaps because they kept themselves apart more often, or seemed to remember so much more.

This Man had spoken to me in Drow, with a nearly flawless lilt very similar to my queen. That astonished me far more than what he’d actually said, which was: “No Drow child is born stupid but can be tempted to act so.”

If the pronunciation and tone both had been poor, I’d have thought he was simply insulting me directly, but they weren’t. His voice had the controlled, underlying, second tone that meant the words were double-edged at least. He may be poking at my pride on how easy it had been to get me in this position, but he meant something else with that answer.

This darker-skinned, white-haired Man understood my race very well, and he’d been waiting for one of us to cross paths with him again. I had to accept that. I was fleetingly glad that it hadn’t been Gaelan to run into him, and any other flitting thought of mine that wanted to deny this could even be possible was banished as it would only hold me back. I’d already frozen up once; I would not do so again.

It eventually dawned on me—as Brom enjoyed my skin, squeezing and stroking and kissing just about every part of me he could reach from thighs to ears—that my lack of direct participation, my passiveness, did not antagonize him. It did not tempt him to show his contempt by treating me more harshly to force a stronger reaction from me. Many Drow I knew would have reacted that way to my standing here being touched, and so would have Kurn.

Speaking of him, Brom soon found the bite on my inner thigh during his exploration. He caressed that as well, his magic soothing as he asked, “Any others?”

“No,” I said.

His voice was slightly more threatening when he next spoke. “Which of them did this? This is only two or three days old.”

It was newer than that—barely a day—but Shyntre’s pellets helped.

“One of the Ma’ab,” I answered readily enough. “Kurn.”

“Ah. The big one that called you a whore?”


“Of course.” He paused, stroking my healed, smooth, inner thigh. “Unwilling?”

I smiled slightly. “I do not care for bites that hard, Brom. But that was the worst he managed from trying, nothing more. I did worse to him.”

He chuckled darkly. “I shall remember that.”

The innkeeper straightened up and raised his hands off me only long enough to unthread his own belt, loosen his trousers, and push them down with a shush of familiar sound. He pressed a hot, hard, and thick member to my naked skin, his hands again on my flawless skin as he rubbed himself over my ass at first and then between my cheeks.

I could feel the wiry hair of his bush, but also the hair on his thighs and testicles as well on my backside and upper thighs. I wasn’t sure what to think of that; it was different.

Nonetheless, I moved my hips to enhance the feeling for both of us and he seemed to purr deep in his chest. He took hold of the back of my neck with one large hand, gripping harder as if to test if I would begin to fight now—I stubbornly stuffed down the urge to do so—and his other hand adjusted his rod to point downward until the head glided over my wet sex instead of up between my buttocks.

“You’ll allow this from me, Sirana?” he growled hotly in my ear, returning to Common. “Or are you waiting until the last moment to play hard to get, as you must have with Kurn? You are about to run out of time to try with me.”

“I agreed to mutual pleasure with the innkeeper,” I answered. “I still do not know who else you may be, sorcerer, but this is pleasurable enough. Thank you for the healing.”

He laughed low. “It must be convenient for you to keep the bargain, or you know you can’t alter it.”

He forced me to adjust the tilt of my hips because it wasn’t quite right for him to take me, and I knew how I presented to him, my ass thrust out and tilted up as my back arched. I felt him finally press his large knob into the softest and wettest spot between my legs, and he gripped my neck harder, seizing my right hip with his other hand as he pushed hard to fill me.

My eyes widened as I realized how broad he was. I’d taken as wide before in the various Feldeus, or even more so as in the case of Kerse’s knot, but all those were widest at the base. Brom had only begun, and the way he thrust in, letting my body wet his dry cock before withdrawing some and then trusting again, sinking deeper each time, I knew without looking that the breadth was nearly uniform all the way down.

His hairy skin soon pressed up against mine; he was fully seated, my body wrapped snug around him. I felt the tip nudging uncomfortably at my womb before he withdrew slowly and then sank in again to bottom out. He held still, holding my neck and hip and keeping my sex spread wide open and clutching reflexively at his whenever we shifted any weight. I shivered from the tension; I wanted more movement, and yet I wondered if the depth or further roughness was safe for my unborn.

“Aia Innathi,” he whispered, as if out of breath, and these words I didn’t recognize at all, though I thought it was with the same reverence as if someone was calling on a deity in prayer.

Brom swallowed and continued in Common, “Do you know of magical conception, Sirana?”

He gave us a few long strokes and I sucked in air before answering; it felt very intense. I thought it better to play on my younger age.

“The…Priestesses use it to aid those favored by the queen,” I said, trying not to give any specifics about Draegloth or Lolth rituals or Consorts.

He grunted and fucked me harder for a few strokes; I winced at one that struck my womb and I squirmed a bit against the hold on my neck.

“Not so deep,” I gasped.

He did not acknowledge that directly, but he did not punish with intent immediately afterward, even as he kept thrusting. “The more magical the creature, Sirana… the greater the possibility to breed with another race entirely. I know this to be fact.”

My eyes rolled upward at a particularly nice thrust as Brom continued reaming my pussy, and a magical surge seeming to enhance it. I shook my head, trying to focus past it. “How…?”

He slipped easily into my native tongue. “When you return, do you think your queen would appreciate a gift from me, for old time’s sake? She always did like new sources of magic.”

I felt my sex clamp down on him as if I had any chance of expelling him once I caught his meaning. My mind whirled as I tried to think through the lust and the way his aura battered at me as his excitement grew. I wasn’t sure whether his magic could even edge this coupling in that direction at all if I was already pregnant. Could arcane magic overcome divine magic somehow? Would it have to? What was done was done…

It couldn’t be…something like that could only be bloody and damaging to every part of me, like Kerse and his ritual had been. It couldn’t be an instant effect; to oust one babe and replace it with another in an instant. I used this very thought to snuff that stubborn, irrational swell of fear inside me, to remind myself that I had time.

*Calm down…*

Regardless of the magic, however, I did not want him to know that he was too late in being able to seed my womb. He had said “when” I return. He meant to see me leave alive, at least at this moment.

“No, don’t,” I said aloud, shifting my hands to different spots on the chest, as if I meant to turn and look back at him. “Don’t put your seed in me, Brom. She doesn’t allow half-bloods to breed, if they are even allowed to live past birth.”

Brom’s breath shuddered excitedly with my words, and he leaned to force more of his weight onto me through his hand on my neck. It pushed my arms down and forced me again to look at the gold ring that had begun this battle of wills.

“She would have a law like that now,” he growled and now started stabbing into me harder, using me as that surrogate I had suspected he wanted from the start. I pushed past the discomfort to focus on what he was saying. He was still speaking in Drow, low and aggressive as he rammed into me.

“She always did loathe any of my lineage… regardless that her sister chose me first. She *chose* to bear me heirs. What does the demon-worshipper tell her followers these days, that I somehow forced my wife stay with me? As if even the power of *my* bloodline could bend such an extraordinary will for so long!”

I wasn’t sure I could even fathom that tirade quickly enough before Brom slowed his pace, keeping a tight hold on me even as I wasn’t trying to get away. He huffed a short, bitter laugh when I looked up, as he read my face in the mirror quite accurately.

“She doesn’t say anything at all, does she?”

I swallowed, feeling an ache deep inside me, and every full, slow stroke as the interrogation continued. I kept my voice neutral. “I am not in Her confidence, sorcerer. I do not know what She says.”

“But it is not part of your lore, is it?”

“Why would it be?”

He sounded insulted. “Do you know what came before your current queen? Anything at all?”

I hesitated, but shook my head slightly. “No. Nothing.”

Brom pulled out quickly, startling me, and grabbed me painfully by the hair to force my back straight again. His strength was considerable. He spun me around by the shoulders and stared down directly into my eyes.

His expression barely contained his fury, and I could still feel the heat bleeding off him. His wet cock trailed my own juices along my hip and belly as he stood close enough to press it against me, looking down.

“On the whole,” he murmured dangerously, “I am not surprised. Given how long it took to find out where she had gone, and even longer after that to locate an area where the nearest portal might be, based only on gossip and vague legendary tales… I knew there had to be a reason I have seen none of you in millennia. You don’t remember this world anymore.”

I asked a question before my mind could seize up at this. “Are…are you certain my queen is the same Drow as your dead mate’s sister, sorcerer? Perhaps she is long dead and another has taken her place.”

Brom narrowed his eyes at me, then smiled slightly in acknowledgment. “What is your queen’s name?”

I pursed my lips briefly. “No one knows. She is the Valsharess.”

“Let me look at a memory of her face. I will tell you.”

I shook my head warily.

“I can break into your mind if you force me to,” he whispered, leaning closer. “I am giving you a choice, young one.”

“It is no choice. You will take more.”

“Let the memory come to the fore, focus only on that. I only need a glimpse and I will not take more because I think you more valuable as you are than as a puppet stripped of her will…which is what will happen if I have to take what I want by force. You were the one to bring up the possibility, Sirana, and you could be right. Now give me some way to confirm it.”

Even my not allowing another thought cross “the fore”— that he could find unexpected challenge in trying to read me against my will—I still did not want to test it against someone who might be as old as my queen…if he was telling the truth…if he wasn’t just insane and living a very elaborate illusion.

Then again, how could he speak my language so perfectly and sound so much like my queen doing it? And he was right about the general population now living underground knowing nothing of what came before. Whether he knew what came before or not was beside the point; we still didn’t know.

I nodded and focused on my last memory of the queen, standing in what was to be Shyntre’s new quarters, as Her fingernail had punctured my tongue and my mouth filled with blood.

There were no memories of the exact words said at that moment, they were gone, but I remembered and saw clearly Her aged beauty, felt her Her terrifying, oppressive aura that made it hard to breathe. I remembered hating Her for everything She had taken by force and demand. For benefit or detriment, She the first reason I was even in this place, held within the power of this centuries-old Human mage who did not fear my kind in the least.

A bluish sheen of magic seemed to shine over Brom’s eyes as he concentrated on me; most of his erection had gone and he remained in thought as he finally released whatever spell he was using and lifted his gaze up. I was glad to be free of it. The queen and the sorcerer had this in common.

I realized then that we both still stood with our pants around our thighs. It bothered me now to have the physical distraction and restraint during such an exchange as this, and I stepped back slowly to strip the rest of the way so I could be fully naked.

The sorcerer blinked as he focused on me, chuckled then took my lead—after a fashion. He sat on the bed and indicated with a silent gesture—a Drow gesture— that I should remove his boots for him.

I felt a flash of irritation and insult, but his smile—chillingly easy for me to read on a different race—promised something in return, something that I wanted, if I did as he asked. Otherwise, our conversation would not continue for a while.

I yanked the boots off with hard jerks that made him laugh a bit louder; I took it the next step to strip his dark brown trousers as well without his asking. He was leaning back on his hands and when his legs were free, they widened as he relaxed on the mattress, his genitals deeply flushed, red, and sticky between his very dark, brown thighs.

At last he nodded. “It is she, your queen. The one I remember. And she has erased your heritage prior to her coming into power.” He gave me an odd look and a smile. “But you are not wholly loyal to her, are you? You only fear her for what she can do, and what others might do to protect the balance of power. Did you run away? Is that why you are up here?”

I shook my head. “No. I was sent by Her. I am still going to Manalar.”

I waited to see if his opinion varied on that; he did not say one way or another.

Brom reached for me instead, catching my waist and one wrist and pulling me onto his bed with him. My bruised pride thought for a moment that I should fight harder, resist more, but really what would that do more than waste energy and focus? Nothing, unless I wanted to act in a certain way to deceive him, but I already knew that Brom would be very difficult for me to fool. Especially now.

He pressed me onto my back and leaned over me to kiss my mouth; his eyes closed briefly as mine remained open, and the softened edge made me wary. It was the same as the first time, when he’d been playing at being a forty-year-old Man eager and almost begging to bed an independent Woman he greatly admired.

How quickly that had changed…though it was better this way. Had I not seen that ring, he would still be playing me like an instrument. More than he was now, with me still fully believing that I was the one tricking him.

His tongue tasted my lips and the inside of my mouth before drawing harder and making that distinct sucking noise, and he inhaled at the same time. I enjoyed kissing for the same reasons, being able to explore the sensitive orifice of another body at my pleasure, to use all my senses doing so, while the other did not usually dare to bite—like Auslan, restrained, accepting, submitting.

Brom lifted his head and breathed out as he shifted down to start nuzzling and licking my tingling nipples, the flat of his hand sliding down my abdomen and settling at my inner thigh. I was not relaxed and my thighs closed on his hand by reflex; he lifted his head to make eye contact again with a sigh of exasperation.

“I would rather you be more engaged, young one. I remember much more bold and confident Drow in my day, not passive virgins more afraid of the act despite their scent of invitation.”

I stared coldly at him. “If you dare compare me to a long-dead mate, Brom, then a stiff body would be closer to the reality, would it not?”

The anger that seized his face and the aggressive pulse of his aura I fully expected; the ferocity of my own response, not quite so.

I lashed out and struck his larynx in a hard jab, though I avoided crushing it; it took his voice and his breath but broke neither. I followed up with a paralyzing blow to a nerve bundle at the junction of his right arm; the numbness should last for several minutes at least and spread all the way from shoulder to fingertips.

A naked mage without his voice or his hands was only a Human male, even an old one.

Following through, I rolled and rammed his chest with my shoulder to send him onto his back, leaping to kneel with my full weight on his chest. After striking the companion nerves of his left arm, I watched his face turn a dark shade of red, as red as his cock had been just after he’d fucked me. He now struggled to draw in any air at all between the pain in his throat and my knees digging into his pectoral muscle, my body compressing his ribs. His hands trembled but he could not raise his arms yet.

I slapped him across the face and it got his attention very quickly despite the other sources of distraction.

“I am engaged now, Ree Fon,” I hissed in Drow, using the echo of the name I heard in Rausery’s mind. “Is this better, mage? You ask, you shall receive.”

I slid back somewhat and reached behind me to grasp his male member…which to my surprise had become like iron as I’d mishandled him. I caressed the hot, broad meat and he almost choked as he finally managed to inhale once. The red faded a little from his face and his eyes had lost the panicked, pinkish look as he had been suffocating.

His arms still wouldn’t work properly but would recover soon, sooner than expected. I would receive some payback soon, but for now I knocked his reaching hands to the side once more and slid yet further down his body.

Straddling one of his well-muscled thighs, my knee in perfect position to crush his testicles if necessary, I reclaimed his erection and put it straight into my mouth, sucking on it and servicing it with as much enthusiasm as I had many a Feldeu, able to use my hand in tandem with my mouth. I tasted my own sex as I worked as much saliva as I could over his entire length, until it started dripping onto his balls.

The sorcerer groaned hoarsely first, acknowledging the pleasure, but it grew in volume to an injured, frustrated roar as he sat up and tried to seize me with both hands. He could not manage fine gestures to cast a spell, but his hands were still big, and they could grasp now.

I drew my mouth off him quickly and punched him in the jaw on his way up, sending him half-way back down. It had not been hard not enough to fracture bone—I doubted I had the strength on him without magical enhancement—but it had shocked him again and gave me enough time to laugh aloud so I knew for certain that he heard it.

This only incensed him; he would chase me about the room if necessary, but I did not really want that—my spit making his cock glisten now would dry out if I did that. I played at some evasion on the bed when he rose up faster this time, to make him work for it, but within two lunges he got a very good hold on me and used his much greater reach and weight to every advantage. He grappled me, yanked my arms behind my back and pressed me face-down, smothering my nose and mouth as he made sure he could keep my legs apart and my hands secured.

One of his large hands held both my wrists crossed at the small of my back, and the other gripped the back of my head, pushing my face hard into the bedding; there was still a small tremor there in his arms from the fading numbness. His legs were braced wide inside of mine, holding them open.

I went still and arched my bottom up to brush his scrotum and the underside of his erection. After a full ten seconds, he finally allowed me to breathe unfettered, taking his hand off of my head so I could turn it to the side and inhale fully.

We each breathed heavily for several, quiet moments. Without a word passed between us, he pressed the spit-slick head of his cock up against my back hole. I widened my eyes so that he could see it clearly, sucked in a breath for effect—and in encouragement, whether he realized it or not. I suppressed my urge to smile completely, even as I relaxed to allow the large, mushroom-shaped head of his cock to open me up and pop inside more easily as he leaned in. I groaned, feeling a bit of a sting as his Human rod spread my tight ring wider than it had been in quite a while.

He felt even broader in this hole than he had in my pussy, but I knew the pain wouldn’t last long as my netherlips were already beginning to tingle in excitement as he lunged ever deeper in regular thrusts, grunting a few times in pleasure. I braced my knees well as I could to hold my ass up to receive him, thinking that only Kerse’s knot had been wider. Eventually I felt his hairy testicles pressed against my cunt, his hips flush against my buttocks. He was in deeper than should be comfortable, but I didn’t care.

“Your netherhole trembles around my staff, my deft, little fighter,” he murmured in flawless Drow over my back. “Is it in pain or pleasure? Or a bit of both?”

His throat was still bruised, I could tell it in his voice, but he sounded in control once again. In fact, he sounded quite “engaged.”

“Don’t just plug it, merchant,” I hissed in my native tongue. “Fuck it and find out.”

I was certain Brom trembled in response.

He rode me in leisured strokes at first, going at his own pace and perhaps trying to read my signs. I made more sound than I had up to this point, mewls, grunts, and moans that helped focus my pleasure even as I made the appearance like it hurt with every stroke, in and out. Interestingly he did not use this as reason to thrust more savagely, as I’d expected, though he continued to enjoy my clutching hole regardless and even either added more of his saliva or scooped lubricant from my pussy when it began to get dry.

It gave me time and a consistency of stimulation at a rate I was not really used to, and it felt as if I would rise to climax whether I made the effort or not. I wanted to, but I also often worked for it, for the timing, either making myself come sooner or later than my dominant partner planned.

Here, it seemed to be rising sooner, and the more I relaxed, the more the swelling flush of sensation invited the floodgates to open wide. It was odd being ridden this way, rather unlike my Sisters, but still felt very, very good. At last, I could no longer hold it back.

*Oh, Lolth…fuck…fuck, yes…*

When my breath stopped for a moment and Brom felt the first, rippling squeezes around his cock, he released my hands and reached beneath my hips to press the pads of his fingers right on my swollen lips and the tiny nub hidden within. I squealed at the added, intense sensation piled atop my orgasm and felt my ass clutch him harder as I rode the rushes of pleasure in higher, sharper waves.

I moaned in a long breath, the side of my face pressed to the mattress, the sound becoming a pleasurable growl when Brom thrust harder at last. Now he quite reminded me of Jaunda as he removed his hand from my sex, grabbed my hips, and fairly pounded my quivering hole. I used my new freedom of movement to brace myself on my forearms, fully giving him my ass. I felt no shock or insult, no distracting anger being plundered this way by a non-Drow male, though I felt plenty of aggression and pleasure and challenge.

I had long felt I understood what the Sisterhood had done to me. Now I had the proof that I did; I could apply it both to protect myself and to use what I learned for a later time.

“Innathi gru…” he grunted in that other language, gasping and on the very cusp of climax, I knew it. “Lo’wicova—”

His voice cut off as he barked something unintelligible and slammed in deep, holding himself there to spill his seed deep inside my body. I felt a secondary spasm of pleasure sweep through me as his cock pulsed in my back passage and I even fancied that I could feel the thick, white ropes of fluid erupting and spreading warmth inside me.

A thought fleeted across my mind that, as often as I’d taken a phallus in my rear since joining the Sisterhood, not that often was there to be male spunk leaking out later. There had been Shyntre, Kerse, and that unnamed soldier from my trials. Two of the three were dead.

Now there was this ageless Human, as he pulled his thick member back out with a mutual groan from both of us. My netherhole twitched as it shrank back down, a touch of male fluid smearing and cooling on the hot, raw rim of my anus, soothing it.

It had been more than worth it. Perhaps Brom had meant that only that if a Drow female was ready to breed, not already breeding, then he could impregnate her, and maybe he was even lying about that… but without knowing more or understanding better how powerful of a mage he was, I would not accept any such magical threat to my first baby.

I’d much rather take it in my ass, and peak in pleasure doing it. He’d been just as content to do it that way as well, after I’d fought him. I felt better having been correct on something, like I could understand part of how he responded in lust.

Brom’s skin was moist, on his face, shoulders, and back especially, and his scent much stronger as he got off the bed. I watched him stand at the pot on the far, more discreet side of the bed, and he urinated into it, bracing himself with one arm against the wooden wall, his head down. His back was fully to me and I figured it possibly overconfident but more likely that he was tempting me just to see what I’d do.

I hadn’t forgotten that I was still trapped in his den and his aura was on par with our strongest female mages. I sat upright on the bed—which was decidedly not stuffed with hay but something much softer and silent—and made myself and my throbbing netherhole more comfortable watching him.

When he had finished, he motioned to the pot, still speaking in Drow. “If you need. I’ll get the warm wash and cloths.”

That was only a good idea because it was inevitable anyway.

I got up and squatted over the waste pot with my back to the wall, facing the rest of the room, not only emptying my bladder but squeezing out some of that spunk he’d just deposited. Brom cast a spell with a careful gesture that heated the water inside a second, metal pitcher set aside from the one with the drinking water; in a short time I could see the steam gently rising up. The mage poured that into a wash basin and added a viscous liquid from a small bottle that developed suds in the water with a little agitation.

“You wash first,” he said without looking at me, and it didn’t sound like a request.

I padded over to him, silent on bare feet and strong board, I knew, because he looked over at last to make sure I wasn’t doing something else. I smirked and gladly took one well-woven washcloth, dipping it into water that was just shy of scalding. Wringing it out, I used it to gently cleanse my sticky flesh and sore orifices. The heat seeping into my tender slit and netherhole was pure luxury as I felt them relax, soon nice and clean as I patted at my skin.

While I did this, Brom washed his thighs, cock, and scrotum thoroughly as well and then, after setting that cloth back aside, he took a second cloth, dipped that, and used it to wipe down his face, neck, chest and pits, which smelled strongest to my nose. I watched with some fascination before he handed me a fresh cloth, and I did the same. The ritual was practical but deliberate, solely for purpose of hygiene, especially following what we’d done…but from what I had been told, most Humans did not bother.

Kurn and Gavin and the others went days without washing, from what I could smell. Maybe it was just harder to follow on the road, Brom had his own quarters and amenities to hand, but somehow I did not think so.

The sorcerer wordlessly and efficiently gathered up those amenities when we were finished, setting the washcloths by the door to be taken later. After unlatching a smallish, sliding metal panel that seemed to have some sort of chute built inside, he dumped first the waste pot, used the soapy water to rinse it out, and dumped the rest of the used water out before closing up the panel again. I stared the entire time as he set the vessels back in their places.

It was notable that he seemed to have similar standards to the Nobility of the City in how he kept his room and himself clean and nicely scented. Any consort to a powerful Drow would have done the same to please her, and that was what this Man was claiming to have been, once. The sire of multiple Drow children.

Where were those children, if that was the case? Had any of the survived as long as the sire? Or maybe they had never existed.

I was not going to break the silence first. The “innkeeper” was reworking his plans; this was plain on his face. He hadn’t firmly chosen a path for after impulsively trying to bully me when I’d realized he had been fooling me. When next he looked directly at me after fucking me, a smile seemed to spread almost unwillingly and he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Ah,” he breathed ruefully. “Sirana.”

“Oh. You recall a name with a face?” I asked with a cocked brow.

“Or a name with a very enticing ass,” he returned in playful taunt.

Before I could respond, the smirk faded and he touched his sore throat, then briefly rubbed the left side of his jaw. I became aware he was using some of that same healing magic on himself.

“A nice ass, and a precise strike. Impressive enough. Not quite what I expected when you were being so compliant…though I should have, especially when you goaded me.”

I didn’t have to say anything in return; I just smiled.

He walked over to where the cheese, roots, and fruit still lay, popping several pieces into his mouth and chewing. “I left you your ring. Why didn’t you use it?”

I glanced at Callitro’s ring and shrugged. “You’re a mage. As well, I didn’t need to. You did not try to kill me.”

“You’re too valuable to me to kill you lightly,” he said. “I’ll note you did not attempt permanent damage to me, either, though I suspect you could have.”

“You gave away my value much earlier, when I uncovered your ploy.”

He shrugged in a bit of irritation. “You recognized the phoenix.”

“Phoenix? Is that what it is? You said quite a lot else besides that.”

His frown deepened at my tone, but then softened just before he grinned unexpectedly. “Heh. I believe I have actually missed this game… Many old memories I thought I’d forgotten returned as I saw your image in the minds of the others, Sirana, when they first arrived at the inn. I have not spoken this language is a very long time. I shall take my various missteps in exchange for the clarity I have now, having bedded you.”

I did not take that as a compliment. It sounded to me almost the same as if someone had just nudged a sleeping dragon awake.

He considered my nudity for a moment, seeming to enjoy it, before he looked back to my face. “I also have the feeling that even knowing what little I’ve told you would mean execution before your queen, should you report this. For you, and any others you may tell.”

I did not respond to that; I hadn’t explicitly thought it yet, but knew he was right. I wasn’t in a good place between this Man and my queen.

“You called me ‘Ree Fon,’” he said next. “Why?”

“Is it your name?”

“Answer my question first.”

I expelled a breath and considered how to explain as the sorcerer cleaned the platter of all remaining food. “I saw the ring on your hand in a mind-read spell, like you did me to see the Valsharess’s face, and I heard a whisper that sounded like those words. But it was only a brief flash, an accident.”

“Accident,” he repeated skeptically. “And whoever knew even those two details just accepted it to happen?”

“She didn’t know, and I will tell you no more,” I said stubbornly, adding, “Shall I call you Ree Fon?”

He smirked as he poured himself some of the remaining wine in his goblet. “Cris-ri-phon. Cris, if you wish, although any at this inn today will not recognize that name if you should blurt it out. I am Brom. It suites the land and the present time better.”

“How old are you, then?”

An odd expression passed across his face at that and he didn’t answer. He looked toward the door leading to the hall, his attention clearly somewhere else for several seconds.

“What?” I asked.

“The enforcers from Manalar are awake rather early,” he said blithely as he took a sip of the deep red liquid. “Perhaps they feel they have self-appointed business this morning before breakfast.”

Brom was watching me for a reaction, and I tried to decide what it should be. I was missing some link but…

He said, “Your ‘servant,’ if that’s what he is, seemed to be having a restless sleep just before you came down to the kitchen.”

“How would you know that?”

“He stopped suppressing his aura. I wager if it continued during our visit, even the Witch Hunters could feel it eventually. If they are awake now, they will have done some preparation and planning. They hate necromancers.”

I fully understood the threat now and I felt my eyes widen in genuine alarm. Brom chuckled as I moved toward the bed to collect my shirt and leathers, slipping into them efficiently and barely holding back the haste that would waste my motions as I quickly braided my hair.

The sorcerer did not block me as I continued on to don boots, armor, and tools, but he kept talking in an easy, calm voice.

“You are safe in here, Sirana, they aren’t powerful enough to feel you even without the wards and likely don’t even know you are here. You could let them take care of your travel companions and be on their way. I could even offer an illusion spell they can’t penetrate, and introduce you to them. You could get much better information on where you wish to go.”

How tempting, making it sound like he would just let me go.

As for the details, it was a potentially useful plan, and one that could help me locate Jael much faster, possibly with the sorcerer’s more direct help. But not only did that put Jael in unknown danger from him, but it also conflicted with the other two plans: the Warpstone Cult and Gaelan, and Sarilis set up in his Tower. I had wanted Gavin’s help sensing an aura that might be Gaelan’s in this area, and I still had the agreement with him to help him take down his master.

My blind need to destroy Sarilis had drastically changed now that I knew a very dangerous secret of the Valsharess—putting into question whether I would ever be able to return to the Underdark—but it was still too large of a secret of which I knew too little about to be able to say right at this moment. Certainly not in the little time I had to decide.

If I let Gavin be taken or killed by the Witch Hunters this morning—trading him and Gaelan for Jael and Brom—then I would have regret for that choice. I knew it.

Brom would wait, as he has been, and Jael may still be traveling toward her goal. Gavin and Gaelan were the two in the greater, more imminent danger. Especially Gavin. Losing him meant I lost several options all at once.

“I need the necromancer,” I said bluntly as I finished securing my torso piece and set upon my bracers.

“I’m surprised,” the sorcerer said. “The Drow I knew loathed the very existence of the undead.”

“Things change with millennia, Cris-ri-phon,” I enunciated the name with some exaggeration, cinching the last buckle on my left bracer and lifting my tool belt.

“So I see,” he commented sarcastically, and a bit cryptically. He paused. “What if I do not wish to let you put yourself in harm’s way? Witch Hunters are among the most fanatical of the Malanar faith.”

I snatched up my cloak in a tight grip as I focused my scowl on him. We held eye contact as I put it on, and then I reached for something on my belt. He tensed and I felt his magic gathering to prepare. I lifted up the small, black vial that Sarilis had given me.

“This is intended for Manalar. If I am not to leave now to protect own my plans, I will use it here, just to spite you for wrecking them.”

It was partial bluff, not something I truly wished to do but something I could certainly be pushed toward doing. Brom could tell this and focused on the vial, as if trying to read what was inside it. He could try to snatch it or destroy it, or even shift it somewhere else entirely with his magic, so I added:

“There are a few more in your inn, and my companions could easily drop one during an attack in close quarters.”

The sorcerer was subtle about showing any wariness on his face, but the fact that his aura dampened and I felt a ward on the door dispel itself before I had even known was there was enough for me.

“Be very careful with that, Sirana. Go, if you must. See if you can stop them from taking your half-dead boy the rest of the way to the Greylands.”

I secured the vial and surged toward the door; it unlatched and opened under my hand without a whisper of protest. I sprinted out into the dimly lit hall and passed the kitchen and the common room in short order. The sound of many boots, armor, and weapons on the upper level was clear to me as I hit the stairs and took them two at a time.

The sound of a door splintering under a heavy force lashed at my ears as I changed direction to come around the back way from the second hall. Witch Hunters were standing at Kurn’s door as well, blocking the way I’d come down.

They were already inside Gavin’s room.


It seemed odd that no one opened their doors; as I passed, I could tell other guests were just coming awake but they were not coming out. Perhaps they did not want to get involved and hoped the Witch Hunters would not break down their own door.

I noted three open doors, empty rooms that smelled of metal and heavy mixes of herbs and oil. There would be at least six, if two to a room, but given my glimpse of the four at Kurn’s door, that would have to mean only two were attacking Gavin.

It did not sound like just two. At least one of them had brought a torch by which to see; I could see the light flickering inside as vague shadows were thrown upon the wall.

One Witch Hunter crouched on the ground directly blocking the broken doorway, gloved hands covering a ruined, bleeding face. He wore a helmet that protected his head, but it would appear Gavin had aimed straight for the face with something that slashed at him as he entered. The Man was shouting angrily and in pain.

“Nomilu sancji!” one inside the room bellowed. “Get him, hold the devil-worshipper!”

Another Man screeched in surprise as I heard a hard scrape of metal on metal; if I had to guess, Gavin was using his spade in desperate melee—and that was likely what caused the deep gouge in the face of the Witch Hunter on the ground.

“Curse you, desecrator!

“Grave robber!”

More struggle as a lower voice chanted, “Our Lord, we beseech your aid cleansing this blight upon your world!”

I was still counting. There were four inside, and the one injured at the door. Four going after the Ma’ab. Nine total. Interesting that they chose to send more after Gavin than Kurn and Castis combined.

More noise filled the hall as Kurn simply opened his door and shouted gleefully, “Tired of holing up an’ shivering, huh?! Come get it!”

He was going to have a lovely time getting full swings in that room without hitting Castis. I didn’t have time to roll my eyes or get distracted; the others had to see to themselves. Gavin didn’t have a chance for survival once he ran out of space to cast anything in the small room. I had a loosened pouch in one hand and a fighting dagger in the other as my ball of Darkness came upon the injured one now trying to stagger to his feet. He just barely saw it coming.

“Devil! Devil swallowing the light!” he screamed, mostly as a warning to the others but there was terror as well as he disappeared from anyone’s view.

It was almost too easy; I could tell exactly where his bare throat was just from his shouting. He didn’t know enough to silence himself where I would have more chance of missing with my blade.

I didn’t waste the powder on him; the point of my dagger entered his throat first, my momentum sending the rest through to lay open his windpipe and begin the blood spurting with force, spraying across the walls. I jumped over his body as it slumped, and I continued into the room.

My swell of magical darkness filled over half the space and enveloped two of the four Witch Hunters. These next two I did fling powder into their eyes, using a controlled arc that dusted each face with a small amount. One choked and started coughing immediately before shrieking in pain as his eyes began to suffer greatly.

The other had better reflexes and, based on his voice, something thick covering his nose and mouth; perhaps he had even squeezed his eyes closed at the right moment. He shifted back quickly to squeak a fast, forced warning through his aching throat. “Summoned! Brothers, he’s s-summoned a d-devil to s-save him!”

“Holy light dispel the darkness! Cleanse damned flesh with your fire!”

I heard both a hiss and Gavin’s hoarse cry; I smelled the particular combination of burning oil and meat that meant the flesh was still living. From the sound of it, they were doing all they could to cause him added pain in addition to the burn; stomping their boots, striking him, anything to break his mage’s concentration, to dispel the magic, to make me go away.

I made no sound but thought of Gavin’s curse. *Worms rot your belly…*

I knew perfectly well that mages were in no position to focus and cast their magic when they were being physically mauled, and the only “ranged” weapon I had that wouldn’t have a chance of hitting Gavin by mistake was one of my spiders. I loosened my pouch, called one of my babies out and tossed it toward the Witch Hunter on the right side, the one holding the hot metal.

*Bite twice under the armor.*

It landed on the armored leg and would take a moment for the spider to reach the exposed flesh, but it gave me time to dispose of the two choking. They were not giving up easily and were fumbling for things at their belts; one flung something that splashed into my face, croaking a few foreign words, but it had no more effect on me than water.

In fact, I thought it might have been just water though I refrained from licking my lips, just in case.

I didn’t know what else to expect, however, and couldn’t have them at my back before going for the last hale one. As I engaged them, the one who’d burned Gavin screamed and slapped at himself when my spider got him, the tiny body protected by his own half plate as my guardian arachnid bit a second time and hid out there until I could call it back again. The Witch Hunter stumbled, wailing in horror and anger at what he began to feel: the unstoppable wave of toxic destruction of his own living flesh.

“D-didn’t work! K-kill him! S-stop his evil….arrghh!” The spider-damned Witch Hunter threw himself into the darkness with me, not knowing at all what he faced but was yet another block I had to get out of the way as the other two finally dropped permanently, gushing blood across the floor. I hissed in exasperation being held back yet longer.

*Lolth damn you, just die!*

Gavin and the last Witch Hunter were fighting hard with each other from the sound of it; it only lasted a few short seconds, but they were desperate ones. It took me just a moment too long to slip my blade point into the inguinal gap in the armor of the swelling, poisoned Hunter and to dodge around his massive body as he finally crashed writhing to the floor. In that moment, Gavin had been struck so hard I heard his breath stop completely and the two collapsed to the floor.

“For Musanlo!”

The subtle sound of sharpened metal sliding home into flesh was distinct and Gavin’s entire body jerked, his heels striking the wooden floor. I knew it had been a solid, well-aimed thrust between the ribs.

Pure heat and a killing need gripped me as I came upon the last Witch Hunter, enveloping him in darkness and grabbing his armor from behind to haul him up to his knees. I had time to draw my blade forward and back again, twice directly across his covered face, slicing cloth and very sensitive flesh; cheeks, nose, lips.

He screamed and finally could be pulled to the side away from my mage.

*Too late…damn you…*

In pure frustration, I made that last one suffer, giving him numerous cuts across face, neck, arms, legs, knees, and a few vicious jabs in the gut just above his crotch, all before he actually collapsed to the ground. He shook and shivered against the floor, murmuring prayers through bloody lips and making some attempt to get up.

“Stay down, dog,” I hissed, and ruined his throat as I had the first one outside the door.

As soon as he stopped moving and the other poisoned one finally stopped thrashing, I heard Kurn, Castis, and Rithal—minus Mathias, that was interesting—still engaged with the other Witch Hunters, but they seemed to be having a good time somehow. I didn’t care at all to come help them. I was not having a good time, and I kicked the last body another time before rolling it so it wouldn’t crowd me and stain my boots further as I stood next to Gavin.

I dispelled the Darkness and turned to look at the apprentice’s body, for some brief moment actually thinking that it wouldn’t be to my eyes what I knew it to be by my ears.

*Don’t be stupid,* I told myself. *They killed him.*

Gavin lay on his side with his back to the wall, one arm outstretched, his eyes closed; when he’d landed on the ground, the Witch Hunter had had the apprentice pinned between him and the wall. The long shirt in which Gavin had been sleeping still covered him to the knees, but the garment was now slowly being soaked in dark red blood, spreading outward from his chest due to a small, ornate silver dagger completely lodged in his chest, driven in all the way to the hilt and through his heart.

His feet and shins were damaged and bleeding from his attackers’ boots, and he had a large burn welt at his neck and collar bone that looked like a smith’s red-hot poker had been pressed there, the flesh in the middle white while the skin around it was blistered red. The edge of his linen undergarment was singed black.

I looked around, numbly curious, and saw what I thought would explain it—a straight, iron rod with two ties in the middle, one rounded end, and a leather grip. The torch they’d brought had been hastily dropped in our ceramic water pitcher nearby, now extinguished, but if the iron bar had been tied to the torch leading up to the attack, one end of it would have been hot enough to cause the burn. I noted Gavin’s blood-stained spade as well, lying next to the table that held the pitcher and torch.

Tremors passed through my right hand as I gripped my blooded dagger hard, barely having the presence of mind to call my one spider back to me from the body it had killed. It did so with a slowness that suggested exhaustion, but I could at least have that tool back.

Next I stepped forward to check for a pulse or a breath on the apprentice, simply to be thorough, and because I didn’t know what else to do at that moment.

He had neither.

*Damn it!*

Not only to lose him, as I hadn’t wanted to, as I’d agreed to help keep him alive on this journey so he could help me with Sarilis…now he couldn’t help with Gaelan, either, and I didn’t even have the option of taking Brom up on his offer of introducing me to the Witch Hunters to learn more of Manalar, because I’d just killed most of them trying to prevent this…

I shook my head slowly twice, putting stained, gloved fingertips on my forehead as my head pounded alongside my heart much harder for a few moments. I drew in shivering breaths and tried to calm down, to slow the rush that only told me I hated being powerless, which I already knew but dwelling on it was useless now. It would not help me; it certainly wouldn’t make Gavin breathe again.

Now I had to face Brom and Kurn and Sarilis…and I was starting over in allies. I was alone again. All that effort wasted due to some harried enforcers who took it upon themselves to break into our room.

I stood up, wiped off my dagger on the pant leg of a body and sheathed it. I went to the splintered door frame, looking out carefully though I could hear that there was further activity down in the common room beyond Kurn’s crowing. There were more Men, and I could hear Brom’s voice giving commands. Was the Ma’ab not done yet? What was he doing, drawing it out? He should have had them down by now.


I was about to step outside to take the back hallway again to meet up with Brom—what else could I do?—when it felt as though a dribble of some near-frozen mountain stream was being poured down my back. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood up and some heavy, dark shade seemed to tease at the edge of my mind as if I would soon have another waking nightmare.

*No…no,* I stubbornly told myself. I couldn’t lose time right now; I knew better. *Not here, not now. Just look at Gavin if you need reason to see why you have to remain aware…*

My eyes did slide toward his body again, as if to reinforce the reason, and something kept me staring at him for longer than necessary.

What was it, what was different? Something was, though he hadn’t moved and was still as he’d fallen. A faint amount of light that allowed me to see a bit of color now spilled in from torches farther down the hall.

I stepped back into the room to get away from the door frame as I scanned the room. Nothing was moving; there were just the five bodies I’d slain, and the one they had before I could stop them.

Yet something tingled in the back of my head, like the ley lines, like at the Tower, but yet not. I looked at Gavin again but consciously tried to relax and paid more attention to my peripheral vision around him, waiting for a few moments. It was a common skill for those in the Underdark; if something seemed to move but one couldn’t detect it while looking right at it…well, then, just do not look right at it.

There seemed to be dark shadows in the far end of the room, not of my making, not the sphere of magical Darkness that no light could penetrate. More like tendrils of long hair moving, waving slowly underwater. They were deeper than any natural shadow had any business being on the Surface, even at night. Yet I still wasn’t sure if I actually saw what I thought I saw.

Swallowing in unease, I shifted my gaze to Gavin’s still, pale face, my periphery following the way the tendrils seemed to be coalescing around the silver blade in his chest but being repelled as the metal looked all the brighter next to them, a dim halo of light pushing out against the dark.

Was this another dream? Was I actually in reverie this whole time?

No. I could not doubt my sanity that much. Brom had happened. The attack had happened. Gavin was dead.

I couldn’t leave the room, though. Not much time had passed, I was sure, though it seemed to slow down as if I was still in some moment of intense focus. There was no battle that involved me anymore, but…

My heart tripped and my next breath was almost painful when I thought I saw a shrouded, female silhouette—very briefly—against the wall above Gavin’s body. It looked as though she should have been standing right in front of him with a candle set at her back, casting her wavering shadow upon the wall. But all I could see was the curves of a charcoal grey form.

*Oh Lolth…*

Were my reveries becoming real somehow? The silhouette had always been in white before, wearing a white gown and standing with the Sun behind her on red dunes…this wasn’t the same form, was it?

Before the shape faded, I watched as she kneeled down and reached as if to take hold of the dagger’s hilt. The shadow pulled back—like the tendrils, also repelled. Then she disappeared from my periphery entirely.

*Take the dagger out?*

The thought only occurred to me now to do so. I didn’t see what good that might do, unless I just wanted to add a somewhat inferiorly-crafted dagger to my collection… but would it do any harm?

I stepped over one of the Witch Hunters on my way back to Gavin’s body, considering that the blood had stopped flowing as the necromancer’s heart had ceased beating; he hadn’t bled nearly as much as his attackers. I lowered myself to one knee before him, in the same spot that the shrouded female would have been if she’d been physical.

Without thinking overly much on what I was about to do, I placed one hand on his shoulder to brace his torso as I took hold of the hilt, pulling firmly to get the blade out of his heart in one, slow, smooth draw. There was the usual resistance of metal in flesh, and a bit of blood followed but not much. As I looked at the soiled blade, I saw the bit of tarnish on the bar and realized it was probably made of pure silver.

Gavin’s shoulder seemed to become colder for a moment, the fading life-heat being sucked away much faster somehow, and I jerked my gloved hand back in pure fright, if I was honest. When his eyelids twitched, I just about drove the silver dagger back in, just from the instinct that kicked in as my heart surged and fear rushed through me.

I stumbled back with less than my usual grace instead of stabbing him, putting some distance between myself and his body as I watched his large, bony hand flex. Then he drew an actual breath; I heard it with my own ears. Gavin’s body had drawn air into lungs!

Trembling, I listened hard, and caught the distinct lub-lub of a heart beating when it hadn’t been before. As it did, I noticed a darker, more viscous fluid ooze out of both his chest wound and the corner of his mouth. It could have been blood, but I wasn’t sure…the scent was different somehow. His gaunt face had never had much color, but now it seemed to dry a bit and lose even the bit of flesh color it had had.

What was happening to his body? What had I just done?

Gavin opened his eyes next, and I did not recognize them at all. That inky blackness that had seeped into the whites of his eyes whenever he called his magic had returned, but the deep, almost black irises of his Ma’ab heritage here gone. Now they were a pale, icy blue—a bit like Rithal’s, except now they seemed to glow in the dark room.

I would have attacked, would have tried to destroy the creature with the silver blade again out of sheer desperation than I’d lose my one chance—but he spoke. A mix of bright red and near-black blood came out in a cough right before he croaked a question.

“Are the Hunters dead?”

The voice was the same, perfect in the tone and inflection I’d become familiar with over the weeks of travel. Surely something else from the “Greylands” that might want to possess a newly dead body wouldn’t have had it so convincing in the very first words?


“Yes,” I answered warily. “But…who are you?”

A very familiar expression crossed his face, even lying on his side and waiting to gain more strength before sitting up. It was that same eloquent expression of before, a skeptical, raised brow and twist of his broad mouth when he thought I was trying to play him or tease him.

Except now I wasn’t.

“Sirana, did you take a blow to the head?”

“Tell me your name,” I insisted stubbornly.

He acquiesced. “It’s Gavin.”

I blinked and tamped down the maddening urge to actually feel uplifted, hopeful… it was so inappropriate and I was still trembling.



“You…you were dead.” I lifted the naked, blooded dagger slightly. “This was lodged in your heart.”

His new, black and ice blue eyes fell on the dagger and he showed me a hint of a smile. “Told you I had talents. Although—”

He carefully placed his palm down to help push himself up to sit, leaning against the wall with a grunt and a groan. He took another breath, and if I didn’t know better, I would have said that the deep wound in his chest wasn’t oozing any blood anymore.

“—this is one I would rather have not used,” he finished.

That was the moment when I noticed that his teeth, his fingernails, and toenails had all turned black, but not as though they were rotting. There was no smell of that nature and they looked strong enough. Solid.

But they were black.

“What did you do?” I whispered. “How…how could you return…why…?”

Gavin seemed to take a few moments to decide which of my unfocused selection of half-questions he wanted to answer. “I wanted it, I suppose. My Patroness granted it.”

I tilted one pointed ear toward him. “…’Patroness’?”

If I broke that down into parts and translated literally, I thought it meant “male head of family who was female.” I didn’t understand it at all and he could read that on my face.

“My…” He hesitated, trying for a different word or phrase. “My true master. She’s taught me much of what I know, or guided me toward that knowledge. She offers her gratitude for your help, by the way.”

I was stunned. Gavin had a “true” master besides Sarilis? She? The dark grey shade that had appeared female, and the elegant tendrils waving like silk… that made some strange kind of sense now.

Gavin had a mistress.

I drew in breath to speak even though I didn’t know what to ask, but stopped the moment I heard Brom’s voice. I had to strain to hear the words.

“Secure the upstairs. Amelda, gather all the guests in the common room and see that they drink the tea.”

“Shit,” I whispered, standing quickly. “Get up. Gavin, the innkeeper isn’t what he appears to be. He knows what I am. Whatever happens, do not attack him.”

Gavin arched a brow—looking somehow the same and yet so different now—but didn’t say anything. He looked over and leaned to reach for his spade, long fingers barely touching to tug it closer to him. He was able to get a grip on it and he used it to brace himself as he got to his feet. The bloody rents on his feet and legs were more blackish than bright red now, I noticed, and they were closing at an unnatural rate.

Gavin was somewhat more than Human now.

I couldn’t dwell on it right now, though; I was surrounded by many more Human Men that I did not truly know what any of them intended for me, if not to kill or possess me. I moved toward the shutters, thinking I could exit out the window, but stepped back the moment I felt the pain of a ward in touching it.

The sorcerer had blocked that way out already; he might have done so even before I’d gone into reverie, but then wouldn’t Gavin have felt it? I might have been able to break it now by sheer force of will, if not for the real possibility that it might also start my womb bleeding from the stress.

Only if I was sure I would die otherwise…

I wasn’t sure. Cris-ri-phon had said I was too valuable to kill lightly, and I had reason to believe him, even if it was still a threat to my purpose.

I heard more voices, a mix of Men who sounded like those with martial discipline and those of the guests who had been trembling in their rooms.

“Gather your things.”

“Wh-what’s happened…?”

“Who attacked—?”

“It’s over now. Please gather your possessions and come downstairs.”


“Where is Brom? I demand an explanation for this!”

“Downstairs, sir. Master Brom will join us shortly. All will be taken care of.”

The swell of voices almost covered his footsteps, but I caught the movement of shadow as our host approached the broken door. He inspected the damage briefly and stepped over the body of the first Witch Hunter, scanning and noting the others dead.

Cris-ri-phon had returned entirely to Brom the innkeeper in his appearance. His skin was much lighter though still tan, his hair a lustrous, chestnut brown, and an easy two or three decades of time had been melted off of his face. He was dressed the same as when he’d first greeted us out of the storm, except now I noted a stout blade at his hip as well as a necklace he hadn’t been wearing earlier tucked beneath his white shirt.

When he smiled at me without showing his teeth, grey eyes looking over me as if to determine if I was injured but also in appreciation, I abruptly became aware of my nether regions, poorly timed as it was. I was still sore in both holes.

His gaze next landed on Gavin, and he stopped abruptly to stand with two bodies behind him and three between him and us. Brom and I both caught Gavin’s gaze flicking down to the bodies of the Witch Hunters, as if he considered what it would take to raise them as a blockade. Brom’s eyes narrowed in response and raked the other mage, and I became aware of the old sorcerer’s pulsing aura again.

Surely it had become something Gavin could see. I sneaked a glance at my ally.

Oh yes. My newly-risen necromancer could see the sorcerer’s aura alright. Gavin flinched as if he’d been looking directly at a lightning flash when it cut the Sky.

Brom smiled to show very white teeth then, still focused more on Gavin than me, though he also noted the silver dagger I held with Gavin’s lifeblood on it. He chuckled very softly. “My, my… I see someone else has been exploring some limits tonight. Did you enjoy your journey, Master Gavin?”

“A bit chilly, but revealing,” the necromancer responded.

Brom nodded, his manner turning gracious and remaining every bit the host he had started out to be. “I admire any who have the guts to try, even if the results vary somewhat. I must apologize for the violation of your privacy, young apprentice. Had I not gotten so…deeply in discussion with our lady, here, I would have seen it coming sooner. I see your underclothes are unsalvageable. I shall have Cheri find you replacements soon as practical, if you will accept?”

Gavin glanced at me with his new, unsettling eyes, and my answering shrug was very slight. I had no objection.

He looked back at Brom and nodded. “Please.”

The sorcerer was both encouraged and amused. “I also have a spare cellar not being used for much at the moment. Once our business is properly seen to, I could have the bodies collected down there for your use. You should have some time where you can be left alone. Would you care to accept, apprentice? It is a gracious offer, and not one I make lightly but for the pleasure of your companion.”

Gavin and I both shifted warily. We knew that Brom had nailed not only my ally’s general introverted nature, offering the opportunity and the means to recover and even practice his birthright and his sole ambition after such a stark shift in his existence, but the sorcerer had also made it clear that he offered such an invitation only because of me.

I understood that Brom wouldn’t kill Gavin right off; that would be too hasty. He’d keep him around as a host’s gesture, at minimum, while he and I further explored our “business,” which was far from finished.

My apprentice seemed to look carefully around the room, especially the windows where I’d felt the ward, and back at Brom, where he pursed his lips at whatever it was that he saw. Finally he nodded.

“Yes. I would accept.”

My breath eased out as I was glad to be certain that Gavin grasped what I did: Brom was too powerful to match in a mage’s duel like the brief one with Castis. My ally may not have dazzling social experience or much love of intrigue, but he was intelligent enough to understand a dagger wrapped in velvet when presented with one.

Brom smiled widely at this. “Excellent.”

A blond Man well-equipped with the basics of melee poked his head in. “Sir?”

“Yes, Cameron.”

“All the guests are downstairs and have enjoyed your hospitality. Amelda awaits further instruction.”

“Tell her just to keep the bodies out of the way, let the guests eat breakfast and leave soon as possible. Has the sun risen?”

“Not quite, my lord, but the sky lightens.”


“And these, sir?” Cameron indicated my kills on the floor.

“Leave them here for now, they are out of the way.”

A second Man with light brown hair and light eyes showed up next. “Sir. Something in one of the Witch Hunter’s rooms you should see. We didn’t want to move the body yet.”

Brom frowned slightly but glanced at me and Gavin. “Care to come with me? We have a bit of time as people shuffle out, it seems.”

He turned to step again over the bodies and in to the hall. After another glance at each other, Gavin and I followed with Brom’s men at our backs. Knowing not what else to do with it, I quickly wiped the silver blade off and knotted it loosely to my belt by the hilt.

We took the second hallway where I’d come through before, passing the empty rooms of the enforcers of Manalar on my way to help Gavin.

Or that I had thought had been empty.

The master of the inn stepped inside the third room from the balcony, the door currently guarded by two other Men, making a total of four warily surrounding Gavin and myself.

I could tell they were confused and even a little afraid—they weren’t sure what they were looking at in either of us, the corpse-like apprentice still being covered in blood and dressed in just a soiled, natural linen longshirt, and me just being me, of course—but their responses seemed muted compared to someone who’d perhaps never seen or expected to see anything non-Human.

I made as if to step in as well, but one of them actually blocked me with his taller body; my eyes were level with the hard leather armor protecting his torso from a hard stab straight on. I looked up with a faintly threatening scowl and I could see his eyes respond, pupils constricting, and his scent seemed to sour just a bit in fear. But he didn’t move.

“Master Brom?” I asked aloud, still holding the soldier’s green eyes.

“Actually, let her in, Leif. I would have her opinion on this.”

The Men let me slide by but still kept Gavin where he was and surrounded him; my apprentice was wary but seemed like he could handle this bit of pressure. I came forward into a room very similar to the one we’d slept in, except in the corner had a scorched spot and a body.

I noted details as I approached. A fire had begun eating the wooden table and had barely spread to the wall behind it; I smelled acrid, smoking oil and herbs. The table had been covered with a blanket and the room’s ceramic pitcher that had contained any water now lay on its side on the floor, its entire contents spilled uselessly across the wood.

Whoever had done that had known the water would not douse an oil fire and had used a blanket to smother it instead. That one had not been the Witch Hunter, who laid face-down, limp with his spine partly twisted.

It was clear to me that the body had been dead well before hitting the floor; I knew if I looked, I could find the bumps and abrasions on the head, arms, possibly hands that showed no attempt had been made to catch himself. I saw two clean insertion points in his back, one at each kidney.

“Did you kill this one, Sirana?” Brom asked.

“No,” I answered. “I was busy when this one died.”

He nodded, believing me. “May I have your thoughts, then, my lady?”

He had a small smile as he stood up to give me more room around the body, but yet I would almost have said that he seemed irritated or otherwise unhappy with what was before him.

I noted general details first, from a few angles, prior to kneeling and inspecting the body’s injuries. It was interesting to me, and I could guess now why Brom wasn’t happy. There wasn’t anyone in our party besides me who had the weapons and skill to backstab someone this way.

“Two daggers, angled upward through the side gaps,” I said. “Pierced both kidneys and lungs at the same time, may have struck the heart as well, there is not much blood.” I focused on the right hand. “And he’s missing his third finger; it’s been severed.”

“Trophy?” Brom asked.

I shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Clearly an assassin, and yet it was not you.”

I smiled playfully. “And you dislike not knowing who else in your inn had these skills without your knowledge. Whoever it was prevented this Hunter from starting a blaze we likely would have been too late to stop.”

Brom was still frowning but exhaled with some tension leaving his shoulders. Next he contemplated Gavin still standing just outside. “Is it within your skills to interrogate the newly dead, apprentice?”

Brom’s men shifted uneasily at the question and I was able to get a clear line of sight on my ally’s face. Gavin seemed dryly amused both at the inquiry and the nervousness of his guards.

“Indeed it is. You’d have to have your questions prepared.”

“I want to know if he saw his killer’s face,” Brom said readily. “If not, I wish to know if he or any in his group had a bounty on their head.”

Looking at the placement of the wounds again, and their precision, I doubted that the arsonist would have seen anything other than the fire he’d been starting, but…given that I knew nothing about this aspect of Gavin’s nature, and Brom did seem to know more, I was content to remain an observer.

Gavin said, “If I may have the garment replacement you offered and can clean up just a bit, I will need to gather my things first. We should not take too long, spirits do not linger forever.”

I suppressed my smile but thought Gavin’s timing was excellent in this case. Brom wanted something from him, so he’d have to help the apprentice collect himself quickly if that’s what it took. The sorcerer knew this, too, choosing not to try to force what he wanted in a dominance of will, like his choice not to “break” my mind when he wanted to see what the Valsharess looked like.

Brom stepped forward to one of the Men, saying low, “Ask Cheri for a tall man’s longshirt and some soap and water. Bring it up to the back room for her, don’t let her see this man or the bodies, and don’t speak to anyone.”

The guard nodded and left. Meanwhile, Gavin was escorted back to the room with two of the three remaining guards, and I waited patiently with Brom next to the body. The sorcerer watched me carefully and seemed more than once to reminisce for a moment what I looked like naked; his smile possessed an arrogant, suggestive quality that relayed his satisfaction at the outcome in his bed.

Odd to think I’d seen the same expression often on Jaunda’s face.

“My lord.”

Yet another Man arrived to report. This one had reddish-orange hair of a brightness that surprised me; I’d never seen the like on any except Rithal, and I thought it had been a dwarven thing for some odd reason. How many colors were there in Humans? Did the two races share blood?

Brom sighed quietly, covering his annoyance at being interrupted once again from his thoughts. “Yes, Ian?”

“The party you asked us to sequester is threatening to get riotous. They want to see you. Mathias, especially.”

“Of course,” Brom said. “Bring them up. Just as well that they see this little show. How long before the guests leave?”

“They are doing so now.”

“And they don’t look directly at the damage or the bodies?”

“No, lord, they’re oblivious.”

“Good. Go get the others.”

Ian bowed and left.

I quirked a brow at Brom, feeling in my gut a familiar, uncoiling surge of realization I felt whenever I made a new connection. “Mathias ‘especially’?”

The sorcerer smiled widely at me. “The skin hunter has a few friends here from previous years, Ian knows him. Mathias used to work for me. How do you suppose he found this place in the middle of yesterday’s storm?”

My face hardened. “He already knew it to be here.”

“And that it was safe for outcasts like him,” Brom added. “Do not blame him, Sirana. I had to nudge quite strongly to get him to go back out to find you, to bring you here to me. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to do so just after drying off, but the dwarf offered to accompany him.”

That explained much better why Mathias was so firm in wanting me to ride with him on his horse. Gavin’s mare may indeed have become lame with continued stress, but regardless, Mathias had direct control over following Brom’s “suggestion.” And to say he had already made a deal to “include” me…I really should have been more wary.

I considered this and something he’d said before. “Skin hunter? Not bounty hunter?”

“One of the Witch Hunters is still alive, though neutralized,” the sorcerer replied. “You’ll likely have opportunity to see what I mean. I have rather missed his skills when he left us. I’d like to see what you think.”

I could hear the others tromping up the stairs and crossing the balcony. Kurn was muttering threats to Ian as he led them in. It was a tight squeeze overall, Brom’s Men clustered about and blocking the hallway off, my associates just stepping in to crowd the door, the one stepping forward being the Hellhound.

Kurn barely noted anything in the room except for me and Brom, and in an action so foolish I simply could not fathom it, he strode up to the innkeeper and puffed up, using his slight bit of height on the older man to stand chest-to-chest, clearly trying to intimidate him. He looked as though he had donned his armor in haste, but it had afforded the protection needed in a fight.

“What are you doing in here with her, magician?” the Hellhound demanded loudly. “And why is everyone downstairs acting like they don’t see us?”

Brom smiled, partly showing his amusement but it also reminded me of a wolf showing his fangs. His grey eyes seemed to flash as he met Kurn’s glare head-on. “Because they do not see you, Ma’ab. Nor do they hear you. I’ve set an illusion and a ward on my property.”

The Hellhound tried to speak again but the sorcerer cut him off to look at the rest of us. “We shall not receive any new guests today. If anyone approaches, it will cross their mind that they have other errands to attend to rather than come here. You may accept the hospitality and the privacy I shall afford you by sheer generosity.”

Generosity, indeed… It was in Brom’s interest that everyone not involved in this confrontation simply leave with a small case of amnesia, and that no one new interrupted something he had been waiting a long time to see happen.

It also meant no one remaining inside would leave unless or until it suited him. Even someone not able to see his aura should have understood the threat of what they faced just on this evidence alone. Kurn did not, or simply chose not to believe it, even as he understood the innkeeper was also a magic user.

“You can’t keep us here,” he said now. “We have a mission.”

“It will wait,” Brom replied evenly.

“No. It won’t.”

“Then I suggest you cooperate and do not obstruct, Ma’ab, we will be finished with business sooner. Now stand back from me, I dislike you fouling my air.”

“I’ll foul your guts if you do not release us.”

“Everything in due time.”

“Kurn,” Castis said with worry from the door; he could clearly see at least some of Brom’s aura. “Stand down, brother.”

The Hellhound didn’t so do quite yet, and a certain cool air seemed to drop over Brom as his eyes narrowed.

Kurn gestured at me. “You didn’t answer. What are you doing with her?”

The sorcerer tilted his head slightly and smiled with amusement. “I am thoroughly enjoying her company. She assists me at my request, as does her servant. I believe I hear him now. Make room for him, men.”

Kurn didn’t have time to do more than shoot me an odd, hateful look that I wasn’t quite sure I could interpret before Gavin made his way into the room.

Just about everyone shrank away from my ally, almost unconsciously, as if not wanting him to even brush them. He had wiped the blood and mystery fluids away, was fully dressed in his usual, tattered, grey robe and worn boots, though I knew he’d have his added protection on beneath as well. He had gathered his entire bundle, all his possessions from the room, but could set it down now while still carrying a smaller kit in one hand.

“Welcome back, Master Gavin,” Brom said cordially, giving a subtle chin-nod.

I watched as my travel companions all absorbed the changes: the blanched, dry, parchment quality of his skin and his cold gaze like an icy pit, the skeletal hands with the black fingernails. Castis muttered something in the Ma’ab tongue that may have been an oath, and Kurn had a look of disgust twisting his nose and mouth as he finally moved back from Brom. Rithal and Mathias were openly staring.

Doing something generally out of character, Gavin smiled—or rather, simply drew back his lips. Mathais gasped at seeing the black teeth. I had the sneaking suspicion that Gavin had finally looked at his appearance in a mirror as he had been collecting himself.

“By what Hell…?” Mathias murmured.

“If you’ll all keep your questions for later,” Brom said sternly, “I have need of the necromancer’s skills right now. We are wasting time. Gavin, if you please. You know my questions.”

I watched with a degree of wary fascination as Gavin nodded and moved to roll the body onto its back without asking anyone’s help. It seemed to be fairly easy for him to do, though the Witch Hunter was not a slight Man. Gavin kneeled beside the body, putting his back to the wall so that he faced the rest of the room. I did not get the impression that it was because he wanted an audience as he just simply did not want to be performing his magic with a whole group of armed men at his back.

It still turned out that we were his audience as we watched him in near silence. Gavin removed the helmet to reveal the dead Man’s blond head and drew out a pinky-sized bit of material from his kit. He used it to draw a precise symbol on the pale, clammy forehead in black grease—waterproof, I realized—then exchanged that for a small scalpel he used to cut the pad of his own left index finger.

Very dark, thick blood welled up and Gavin smeared his finger across the corpse’s lips, muttering very quietly; as I focused harder to hear, I knew it to be the same language he’d been speaking in his last nightmare. The one with the unsettling undertone, perhaps the one in which he communed with his otherworldly “Patroness.”

Thinking of that other world, I felt the temperature in the room dropping, becoming cooler, even with as many bodies as we had crammed in here. I was not the only one to notice. The Ma’ab brothers muttered something to each other in their native tongue, and several sets of boots shifted. Brom stood firmly between Gavin and the others, watching every detail while letting him work.

Breathing in slowly and in deep concentration, Gavin reached with his long-fingered hand as if he meant to dig into the chest cavity of the body. I felt my jaw loosen when his hand somehow passed through into it, bloodless and causing no damage, his wrist flexing as he closed his hand into a fist out of sight. As he drew his hand back out, a vaporous, dripping, pale glow surrounded his hand in a haze.

At first it was only a ball of…something…wavering about Gavin’s curled hand like a flame on a candlewick, but after a few moments it began to take the vague, transparent form of the Man lying dead on his back. It was still tenuously connected to the body, but Gavin clearly controlled the form in his grip.

It was difficult to rip my eyes away from the spectacle, but I did so to glance at Brom, who was smiling and looking very pleased.

Gavin’s eerie, vaguely glowing eyes looked straight at the spirit. There were no pleasantries, no introduction.

“Did you see the face of your killer?” he asked.

The ghost’s mouth moved, but there was a death rattle at the back of the corpse’s throat that drew all our attention as air escaped. I took a step back as Mathias uttered a sound of alarm.

“No…” The word to pass through the dead’s actual mouth was hollow, flat, and drawn out as if under great strain to speak even that one word.

Gavin narrowed his eyes as I saw an odd pulse at his temple. He squeezed the apparition, closing his hand as if around something solid. “What qualities can you say to describe your killer?”

There was a short pause as the throat and jaw strained to form a word once again. “Quiet…”

“Nothing else?”


It was about as I expected, though Brom was frowning at the lack of a useful answer. He reminded Gavin, “A bounty?”

A subtle nod, and he asked, “Who holds any contracts on you or your brotherhood?”

The corpse continued to strain, but the spirit’s mouth moved more this time as its words passed through the body.

“Our enemies…hire…the Guild…as vengeance for those…heretics…condemned or…cleansed.”

Gavin and the solidity of the ghost both seemed to be weakening as more fluttering pulses rose at the necromancer’s temple and a tremor passed through him. Still, he clenched his hand again and asked, “What was on your right, third finger?”


Brom nodded. “That is enough for now, Master Gavin. Do not lose control.”

The apprentice exhaled out in a slow, deep release, lowering his hand closer to the corpse, and the coalescence of vapor dispelled quickly, disappearing completely from our view. Gavin touched his temple and took a deep breath before tucking up his kit and standing to add it to his things.

“Useful, then, Master Brom?” Mathias asked, and the innkeeper nodded with a smile.

“Enough so. The summoned dead do not knowingly lie. What they say is always true to their knowledge.”

My first thought to this was that I couldn’t imagine the Valsharess allowing any necromancer to exist in the City. If death was practiced as being the final silencing of an enemy or opponent even beyond a compulsion, and the final victory, how would things change to have a mage who could call back sure, lost knowledge like that?

Among other things, that might be one reason for Brom’s comment about the Drow he knew hating a death mage’s very existence. It unbalanced the Game, and I could imagine many of us fighting over possession of such a weapon. The fact that this particular mage was male would only make that part worse, just as we would fight over a Consort like Auslan who received visions.

It was curious for me now to consider Gavin’s Ma’ab mother then, and what she may have been like?

The thought led me to glance at Kurn and Castis who—apart from Brom—did indeed look the least unsettled by Gavin’s talents, as if they could have seen it before or perhaps just heard of it, knew it to be possible. Mathias and Rithal and all of Brom’s men showed varying levels of utter disbelief and horror, as if it couldn’t be real—it even overshadowed my alien presence for the moment.

“What is the Guild?” I asked bluntly.

Brom looked at me with a subtle, teasing twitch to his mouth. His men remembered I was there and at least one kept his focus on me as the others watched the rest.

“Probably Manalar’s largest competition by organization, influence, and reach over multiple cities.”

“Until the Ma’ab army shows up at their doorstep,” Kurn growled.

The innkeeper shrugged, unimpressed. “Even if the Ma’ab wins that battle, warrior, I wager they don’t have the slightest idea how to contend with the Guild next. You can’t make them cede their territory easily. They have no temples and no political boundaries to take by force. They are a shadow organization within all the current fiefdoms, and if it takes them years to strategically assassinate your most powerful leaders and see your infant empire crumbling down, they will. It is how they came to be in the first place.”

There was a pause as nobody said anything to that. Kurn and Castis were both glaring.

“You sound to know much,” the Hellhound replied with plain suspicion. “Crowing their strengths. Are you part of the Guild, ‘innkeeper’?”

I watched Brom’s face carefully; it was too direct of a question to be very effective, certainly no surprise, but still, it wasn’t outside of possibility. Kurn had a point.

“I do business with them from time to time,” Brom answered easily enough, not seeming to care that he said so in front of many people. “Trade information mostly, I pay no dues and take no tasks. That puts me on the outside.”

But he would know how to contact them. Sarilis had been talking about the “eastern taskers” as ones he had no dealings with but who filled the same niche near Manalar as “the Guild.” They had to be one and the same if they were of any size and power, as he claimed.

The ancient sorcerer overall wasn’t happy that a likely Guild member had gotten inside his inn—and possibly back out—without his knowledge, but that same assassin had stopped his place from being damaged by a potentially uncontrollable oil fire set by the Manalar fanatics. Surely it was a sign that the Guild considered this innkeeper an ally, at the very least.

I had yet to discover whether dealing with this Man, even in order to find the Guild connected to a half-Drow, could even be worth it. Brom had been Rausery’s task, not mine, and she had centuries of experience over me and likely knowledge of him that I didn’t. Simply my being hesitant to break any of his wards put me at a severe disadvantage, never mind what his possible responses might be to learning the reason why I was hesitant. I was not in a good bargaining position unless I could learn something more, something useful.

“Have all the guests left, Leif?” he said now.

“Aye, my lord.”

“And the surviving zealot?”

“Awaiting your pleasure, lord.”

“Gather the bodies in the back room and bring them down, along with this one, collect them together and sort their belongings.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Brom gestured to the rest of us and smiled. “If you will, come with me down to the great room. I believe we have deals of our own to work out.”


Brom was gone from us briefly as he swept his own inn, perhaps to check for the Guild assassin, if he was still here.

Standing in the great room, I noted that the entire place was shuttered and closed; no daylight was getting in despite the dawn, and the place was lit with oil lamps. No one would be able to look in, it closed out the outside world, and it would happen to be much more comfortable for me. I wondered if Cris did that on purpose or if it was just a side-effect of the privacy he wanted?

In the more familiar glow, I saw plenty of evidence that my travel companions had led their four Witch Hunters down to the main floor to fight them, and they had broken quite a bit of the inn’s furniture.

Three bodies had been lined up and stripped of weapons; I did not see the fourth, presuming him to be the prisoner. By the look of it, each had taken one opponent; I saw one with a scorched face, another with several deep sword wounds, and the last with an axe strike to the chest that had actually caved in the armor.

I had to suppose that they had been drawing it out longer than necessary; they were not injured badly at all, almost as if the Witch Hunters had had no magical offense themselves. I hadn’t seen the zealots use anything that implied it in Gavin’s room either; one had thrown water on me and another had burned Gavin with a hot iron. Otherwise, it was all straight martial fighting.

I wondered what that might mean about the level of magic in general at Manalar? They had some, obviously, or we wouldn’t be off to spoil their holy pool, but to not offer any to their “enforcers”? Curious.

“So what did you do while the Witch Hunters came for us?” Kurn asked me, low and through clenched teeth. “Watch me fight and finger your cunt, as always?”

I raised a brow but did smile, flicking my eyes up where Brom’s men were bringing down the rest of the Witch Hunters from upstairs. I did not need to say anything as five bodies eventually appeared, in addition to the sixth from the previous room, all lined up next to the first three.

The Hellhound grunted, frowning. “And how many of Brom’s men did you need to help overcome all those in one small room?”

“None,” I answered.

“She is quite efficient,” Gavin spoke up, surprising me as he’d never done so before. “Taking them from behind before they could offer resistance. I’m sure you’re familiar with such things, Kurn.”

The big man’s face changed color, paling before turning three shades darker, and he somehow seemed to grow in size as he turned on Gavin with a snarl, making him back up by getting too close. Really, it was only Kurn’s response that helped me catch that double-meaning in Common, though by Gavin’s surprise, I genuinely thought that the apprentice hadn’t meant it in but the one way.

Even if he was right about both.

“Tactics,” I said clearly, circling to get behind Gavin and pull him back by the shoulders quite a few more steps, so that I could move in front and not be chest-to-chest with Kurn. Fortunately, Gavin didn’t fight me and moved well out of the way.

I looked up at the Hellhound’s black eyes as he focused on me, having actually put myself between him and my apprentice, as I said I would not do. “He meant you are familiar with such tactics, Kurn. Correct?”

“Only in a cowardly backstabber such as yourself,” he growled, the scent of his breath and skin similar to when we’d clashed, but more sour.

“Oh? Are you starting to remember?” I asked.

He showed me gritted teeth, grinding them and very much wanting to break my neck with his bare hands… but he wrenched his eyes from mine to look at Gavin behind me. “And what happened to you, eunuch? You look like a possessed corpse now.”

It was Castis that spoke this time. “His aura’s changed. He’s…part…I don’t know—”

“Undead?” Gavin asked, showing his own black teeth just for effect.

Castis wrinkled his nose slightly. “Yes.”

“Close. It’s not that simple, of course. Unlike an undead, I do hunger and thirst. My flesh still tires. For now, at least.”

*That sounds ambitious,* I thought.

“What triggered this kind of transformation?” Castis asked with grudging—I dared to think professional—curiosity.

His Ma’ab brother’s shift in topic also gave Kurn the opportunity to calm himself further and step back rather than accuse in front of everyone that I had violated him, or give me the opportunity to say what had happened, to taunt him with it. I could see that he was willing to drop it, but only until later.

He would be thinking afresh of the canyon trap now, as I was.

Gavin did not answer, just watched the other mage. I took his lead and said nothing. Not only was it a sting to my pride that I had failed to prevent his death, as was my goal—regardless that he had come back from it somehow— but besides that, these males still had many odd times where they simply wouldn’t ask me directly what they wanted to know. Even if they knew I had been a witness, they assumed I would not answer. This was one of those times.

“So what else can ye do?” Rithal asked the apprentice in a low rumble, no longer indifferent toward Gavin’s presence as he’d been before. Now his tone was slightly hostile, even as he’d watched each of us and made no comment until now. “Other than wrench souls outta bodies an’ force them tah speak?”

Gavin surely understood the change in tone; his response was flat and unhelpful. “I suppose we shall both find out, won’t we?”

“We shall find out a lot of things,” Brom said in a strong voice that filled the room as he returned. “First, I will know more of your actual mission, Ma’ab. You go to Manalar, that is true. But why? And why do you have such an eclectic band to carry it out?”

“You will spread it back to the Guild, innkeeper,” Kurn said. “We’ll not tell you.”

Brom quirked one brow then looked around his inn quite deliberately. “Very well. You may try to leave by way of the front door.”

Kurn and Castis shared a doubtful glance.

“You set a ward,” Castis said.

“That’s right, I did.”

“So release it,” Kurn said.

“No.” Brom looked at Rithal next. “What about you, dwarf? You carry one of the black vials as well.”

Rithal looked toward me briefly in accusation; he was right about it being me who told him of those, but wouldn’t know at the time I’d been threatening the innkeeper with it. He thought I was cooperating with Brom.

The dwarf cleared his throat slightly and, oddly, did not answer with his usual directness. “The Guild would like tah see the theocracy gutted from the inside, I think.”

The sorcerer nodded once, very elegantly. “Indeed, I wager they would. You are helping the Ma’ab horde?”

“No,” Rithal said. “They’re on their own, tah win er lose. I am returning judgment in kind on the Priesthood. Tha’s all.”

“I see.” Brom looked at me and smiled. “And you. Do any of your companions know why you are here?”

“No,” I said flatly. “And neither do you.”

“Not from lack of trying, my dear. Your discipline is outstanding, even under interrogation.” Brom winked, then looked back at Kurn, who looked like he wanted to slit my throat before breaking my neck. “And you, Kurn, you want back into the good graces of the Hellhounds. Do you even think that’s possible?”

The big Ma’ab’s face turned deep red very quickly. His voice was harsh. “Yes. To win a battle large as this for them and strengthen our connection to our gods? To set and accomplish a goal that few can? Yes!”

Brom’s grey eyes slipped straight over Castis to Mathias, who had been just about as inconspicuous as he could possibly be. I took a moment to note that the quiet Man still wore my sapphire pendant beneath his shirt.

“And you, Mathias? What has changed since I saw you last? Do you have any better control now?”

Everyone else I our party reacted as I had not long ago.

“You traitor!” Castis spat. “You brought us into this trap?!”

Mathias raised his hands, palms out. “It was only the storm! We needed shelter and I knew we’d be safe here. Lord Brom agreed—”

“‘Lord’ Brom?” Kurn blurted, turning his snarl on the innkeeper. “Who are you, magician? What are you?”

“Someone Mathias was right not to cross back in the day,” the older man answered with a casual scratch to his jaw. “Where I you, I wouldn’t harm him now, Ma’ab, it would be pointless. He meant you no harm, and he’s one of the finest interrogators of the living I have known recently. He can pull as much information as you want out of the last zealot.”

Most of our party’s expressions were doubtful, including mine. Quiet, unassuming Mathias? A confessor? Our scout and game finder?

“Fanatics are hard to break and still be useful,” I commented quietly and Brom nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I know. Mathias can do it. I think you might find it particularly interesting, Sirana. He doesn’t like to work on women much, I think it’s the pitch of their screams, but men always start babbling to him like he’s their priest, sooner or later.”

Mathias’s face was deeply flushed and he had lowered his eyes; I couldn’t believe it, he was blushing under Brom’s praise.

“With your direction to the questions,” Brom said to me, almost intimately, as he took a few steps closer, “he wouldn’t miss anything you wanted to know. Whatever you’re searching for, you’d be closer to it after talking with the enforcer.”

He was trying to persuade me. Why? It did not seem like this needed any kind persuasion; of course we should question the living Witch Hunter, the same as we did the dead one. If Gavin had looked better recovered, I would have asked him to speak to the rest of them…but I’d seen enough to know the questions had to be specific, and it took extraordinary concentration and power to keep that connection to another plane of existence. Gavin had only recently risen himself; he was not yet up to that task.

The time available to question the dead was finite, and as with all magic there were limitations. Mathias didn’t use magic, though. There would only be the physical, spiritual, and mental limitations. Taking the proper time in that case was required.

I watched the “skin hunter” for a few moments, and realized that he was looking to me as if for permission. He already responded quite naturally to Brom’s command, whether he still worked for him officially or not, but Brom was passing that authority on to me, standing next to me, advising me on how best to use this Man’s skills.

I nodded. “A good idea.”

Kurn interjected with a grunt. “How fast to soften the Witch Hunter, Mathias?”

Those medium brown eyes, which I had thought unremarkable overall in his unremarkable face, brightened with such interest and love of a challenge as to surprise me. He looked from me to Kurn and back indecisively.

“How much time do you need, Mathias?” I rephrased, and he focused on me.

“I’m not sure, it depends, Sirana, but I would ask you give me half a day to start. I would report to you,” he glanced quickly at the Ma’ab and Rithal, “all of you, of course, regularly. When he’s ready, you’ll know.”

I hadn’t thought our bounty hunter capable of highs or lows, but I could see clearly now that I’d been wrong. He was capable of passionate interest, he just had a very specific switch that needed to be thrown.

Brom had just shown it to me.

“Excellent,” the innkeeper said now. “Then please consider my hospitality extended for the duration, along with the previous agreement of your best guests’ behavior. The entire inn is yours, and my staff will set up fresh rooms for you.” The sorcerer looked at Gavin. “Would you like that cellar space, now, as well, apprentice?”

Gavin glanced at most of us in short order, a bit longer at me, but in light of the fact that we would remain here for the time being, he would ultimately choose the same as Mathias: his true interest. I nodded very slightly in agreement; Gavin would need time to strengthen his new form anyway, and probably communicate somehow with his mistress.

He said, “Yes, please. I should make good use of it.”

“Cameron, Ian, help the necromancer with that, and in moving the bodies. Lief, assist Mathias in setting up our prisoner in his favorite spot.”

It was about then that I noticed a small team of female Humans entering the great room, keeping a wide berth and slipping upstairs with supplies and linens in their arms. They were amazingly quiet and behaved just as I would expect servants to act…

…except for one. She still stood at the hallway that led to the kitchen; she wasn’t carrying anything like the other girls though appeared a similar young age. She was dressed a bit better than the others, her dress a rich blue instead of some muted earth tone. Her features were lighter, more delicate—not nearly as heavy as the Men—and her face was smooth as mine in seeming to grow no hair. Her hair was thick, black, and with a wave and bounce that was unfamiliar to me, although I thought if Brom let his hair grow that long, it might behave the same way.

She also had the same shape of the sorcerer’s eyes, I realized with a start, except they were Ma’ab black. She looked a bit displeased as she regarded me.

“Amelda,” Brom said fondly, and her frown shifted quickly to a smile.

“Yes, father.”

I remembered the name. She was the one who made the tea for the guests, and apparently a daughter who “awaited instructions” from her sire. An interesting thought.

“See to the Ma’ab personally, if you would.”

She nodded once and walked forward with a sway to her hips that Kurn definitely noticed, though Castis made to ignore. Both of them looked fascinated by her face, though, in some fashion. I figured they could see the Ma’ab blood in her—even I could see it— and she was familiar to them, even calming after a long time in foreign lands.

So this was a Human Woman. Rithal shook his head once and scowled more deeply, looking at me and his host, but interestingly, he said nothing.

“You have a Ma’ab daughter, Brom?” Castis asked, though Kurn was silent, still looking at her.

“Surely, I do. Her mother was an extraordinary witch, you might be curious of Amelda’s talents, Castis. So now you see why I wish to know more about your quest for your empire, blood warriors? But we have time to talk later. Relax for now.”

“Come, let me show you our practice room,” Amelda crooned, and I felt an odd air hovering in the room as she lightly touched Kurn’s bracer and kept going down the second hall opposite from the kitchen, common room, and Brom’s quarters. After a bizarre moment where the air seemed to become heavy enough to press us to the ground, both Ma’ab finally shuffled off hesitantly to follow her and the feeling lifted.

“Is that a good idea?” I murmured to the sorcerer, thinking of the Hellhound’s general opinion of females.

“She’s curious,” was all Brom would murmur back.

“And what trick or offer have ye to try an’ tempt me, sorcerer?” Rithal growled, the thick leather of his glove squeaking as he fisted his right hand and faced us directly. “An’ is the Elf helpin’ yeh?”

I rolled my eyes upward; my speaking very little as I watched every detail in the room seemed to make even Rithal forget that he could just ask me.

“I am as surprised as you, dwarf.”

He blinked and looked straight at me, and I frowned back at him. Rithal made an obvious attempt to read me and Brom waited to see what he decided about my truthfulness.

“Perhaps,” he granted, “but he wants something from ye, Sirana.”

“True,” Brom said with easy, forthright calm, “but it’s only a matter of time before I release your party to continue your mission, master dwarf. Or at least you and the Ma’ab, as I believe in the simplicity of your motives and would even like to see you succeed. Be patient for now, cause no trouble, and there will be no trouble from me. Help yourself to food and ale, just ask for Elana in the kitchen, while Sirana and I discuss a few things.”

Rithal’s beard and brows moved with his thoughts as he weighed the larger Man’s words. There wasn’t a lot to respond to with such directness; either the dwarf accepted—even under protest—or he resisted. He knew that.

With a low, rumbling sigh, the dward nodded reluctantly. “I’ll take the offer of ale while I wait.”

“All that you want,” the innkeeper said graciously and with a very broad smile and before long, my last travel companion vanished from view.

Cris-ri-phon had separated us all quite efficiently, and now he and I were alone. He smiled down at me.

“Now, if you’ve finally aided your apprentice to your full satisfaction, and you no longer plan to desecrate my inn or destroy yourself with your black vial…perhaps we may continue our conversation in peace within my room, Blue Eyes.”


The sorcerer did not wait long after securing his bedroom to trap my face again in his large hands and press another kiss onto my mouth. His illusion faded once again to show me his pure white hair and darker, more weathered skin.

“I think I should enjoy having you again,” he breathed against my cheek, forcibly shoving me up against the wall next to one of his displays of boxes and art, “after seeing what you did. A single Drow against so many Witch Hunters. Your race has not lost their taste for blood or their skill, I see.”

I struggled because I didn’t like this from him, being given no space, moved around and handled like a sack of supplies. It was with intense dislike that I was not able to keep track of his hands as they took liberty to touch my armor far too near my belt and weapons for my liking.

He was too large and too strong, his aura too distracting; I couldn’t get free, I couldn’t get away.

The helpless frustration of thinking I had lost Gavin, of knowing I was in a bad place regardless, all of it had not truly settled, there had been no time, and I felt it rise again as Cris-ri-phon mashed my tender breast through my armor with his palm. My training overtook my wariness and my forethought for a moment as I reached to release my spiders.

Cris gripped my wrist and slammed it hard against the wall; I had to swallow my cry at the painful jolt top my hand.

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t do that, my dark assassin. We shall both regret it.”

“Then get back from me,” I demanded. “Don’t hold me against the wall. I hate this!”

Heat was pouring out of him like before when he was aroused, and he frowned dangerously for a moment as he considered simply continuing this way. I tensed, preparing to respond to whatever he chose. It would be a long time of him trying to force my weapons away from me, a piece at a time, unless he just wanted to make me completely unresponsive in some way and fuck me while unconscious.

That was as possible as any other outcome, but the natural consequences of this path would be rebellion at every turn later on, no matter how long it continued. He would not get cooperation nor as much information, and he would have to be on constant guard unless he just wanted to break me and, by his own words, lessen my value to him.

Drow did not tire easily when set on revenge for some action taken against them.

Cris seemed to realize this through his haze of desire and, perhaps after considering the intriguing challenge for a moment, he ultimately discarded it in favor of something more far-seeing. He stepped back from me, giving me space and I shifted away, more toward the middle of the room where I could maneuver.

“Will you disarm yourself completely?” he asked.

“What of the ‘conversation’ you mentioned?”

“After I’ve bedded you again. I will have you, then we will talk.”

I could take the trade or I could completely decline. If I declined, then what? Try to overcome him as he had just chosen not to do with me? If I tried, even if I succeeded, I would not get that same cooperation and information trade, and I would have to watch my back for the next time as things escalated as I still may not be able to leave. I had no doubt Cris-ri-phon would respond exactly as my own race would to being thwarted.

So. It was a yes. Yes, I would trade and I would fuck him, albeit under threat.

Now I could either slowly, resentfully remove my things, or I could strip naked with confidence. This wasn’t unlike my earliest months as a Red Sister novice—once trapped, it was going to happen eventually, why waste time and effort that would be better spent on the sating, even overwhelming, his physical demands?

Cris perked up as I swiftly flipped off my blood-spattered cloak, tossing it over the back of the chair in which I’d sat at the beginning of our meeting, then loosened my bracers in a few short movements and tossed them onto the seat. I scowled at him as I did this, but it was in a manner of inviting him to meet a confrontation rather than any throat-showing bitterness at submitting.

“If you’re not ‘disarmed’ as well by the time I am done,” I said, efficient but not reckless in removing my weapons and tools, “I make no apologies for damage done to your clothing.”

He grinned broadly and began to strip.

It was a contest to see who finished first—I’d gotten a small headstart, but had the more elaborate outfit—and he was stepping toward me nude as I flipped my shirt and final piece over my head. The necklace he had donned after I went to help Gavin turned out to be Kurn’s ruby. Great.

The next moment I decided to test how difficult it was to get behind him.

He reacted quickly to my tumble to his right; only a lucky strike to his wrist with my momentum fully behind it prevented him from catching good hold on me, and I came up in a crouch to hit a moderately painful nerve point in his side, but not the kidney as I’d planned—he’s spun too much and protected his back.

His fingers dug into me as they snapped onto my upper arm the next moment, but I took hold of that wrist and used his own body to brace as I thrust my heel up into his hard gut, intentionally avoiding his erection—and he realized it.

Still, air rushed from his lungs and he looked surprised enough as I twisted free, but his recovery was quick as he attacked with a barehanded, offensive style with which I was not familiar. I could only dodge a strike or guide it to the side with a slap; I could not block them directly or it would hurt too much.

Cris grunted a laugh as he struggled to get the rest of his wind back, his face darker flushed than it should be for the amount of effort so far, had I not spent his wind in the second move. Still, he seemed very pleased, enjoying the chase and sure that he would catch me eventually.

He was correct, of course, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t choose when to be caught, to some extent.

I never did get behind him in those few, intense moments, but I did manage a feint that opened him up long enough for me to jump straight onto his torso—as I had with Kerse what seemed quite long ago. One of Cris’s broad hands clapped and gripped directly onto my ass, supporting me as my legs went around his waist, and his other arm encircled my back to hold my breasts pressed to the wiry, grey-and-black mix of hair on his chest.

Our lips met at the same time, though not from lack of trying to force the kiss on the other. It was pure force and aggression—not sensual but plenty of sensation and power exchange in it. He sucked too hard of course and I bit him when I got the chance; we separated briefly then dove in again with battling tongues, heavy, moist breaths, and wet, slurping sounds.

The sorcerer growled, his chest vibrating, as he carried me over to his bed and tried to toss me onto it. His problem was that I wouldn’t let go so easily; my ankles were locked at the small of his back, as were my wrists behind his thick neck and one fist was in his white hair. I growled back and he laughed, his arm around my back tightening as his hand on my ass slid to press one finger straight into my back portal without any lubricant.

I sucked in a breath and automatically relaxed my anus at both the fresh burn and older soreness from a few hours ago, my training actually working against me as it also relaxed my legs just enough for Cris to break my hold. Once my lower body was loose, I did not have any good way to continue and I let go, landing naked on the bed.

The sorcerer’s eyes were bright and cutting as he looked down at me, his mottled, dark red cock standing out straight and leaking clear fluid at the tip. His hands shot out to seize me again and I got in close, struck out in return to land a hard jab to the meat of his neck—avoiding the windpipe this time—since some instinct told me what was coming next.

He made some satisfying grunt at being struck, but it didn’t stop him from gripping my braid at the base of my neck and hauling my head closer until my mouth hovered over his rod. I already had my mouth open—the coy pursing of lips as the wet head was pressed and smeared over the face wasn’t a step I tended to indulge much… unless Jaunda wanted to play at it.

Cris forced his meat between my lips and pushed my head down, holding me very tightly as his Human cock nudged at the back of my throat.

“Don’t bite,” he rasped, tremors from the fighting and lust coursing through his body.

Oh, how easily it would be to stop the game right now…. A simple command from him wasn’t enough to stop me from doing just that, but my own training demanded that I would have to be sure of a follow-up move to kill him outright if I wanted to take that step. I didn’t have such a follow-up.

I still disobeyed, though.

I closed my lips tightly around him and used my tongue along the underside of his member—more or less as my Lead liked it—and he groaned aloud. His free hand clutched and smoothed and stroked the skin of my back and shoulder as he held my hair, moving his hips more than his hand was moving my head. I gently rested my teeth on him so he could feel it and his hand tightened in warning.

“Do not…” he whispered, pure violence bleeding into his tone.

I flicked my tongue again in answer, rested my teeth again, and squeezed gently with my jaw, applying pressure on his shaft but making no effort to cut into it.

He paused, warily curious, and when I did the same sequence again, he hummed, moved his cock in and out between my lips a few times, and pressed it back in so I could mouth him that way again, adding a little more pressure and holding a little longer each time. He groaned and let me continue quite a few times.

“Bite a little harder,” he dared to say once, and it made me want to chuckle as I complied.

I was indeed “biting” him, but gently, squeezing down and holding for gradually longer periods, so pressure would build in the head of his penis and his breath hissed in pleasure as I would just as slowly release to let the blood surge into his cock again. I knew it to be intense, and something my Lead had always enjoyed. She was the one who taught me.

Cris enjoyed my skills, willing to let the pure force of our encounter back down as I became much more familiar with the musky scent of his bush. He did not release my hair, however, and my hands resting on his hips could feel the muscles flex and twitch as he got closer to his peak.

I slid one hand to caress his testicles but he did not allow that much risk—his available hand trapped mine and he began to thrust much harder into my mouth, trying to get over that rapidly approaching edge before I did something to disrupt it.

His cock swelled between my lips and he was truly trembling as he gasped another of his foreign phrases, and then, just when I had expected to taste jets of male seed spreading across my tongue, he jerked my head back and had to release my hand to grip his own erection. He stroked twice and the first pulse of hot semen shot across my lips and cheeks.

I struggled despite the pain of his grip, digging my fingernails into his thigh deep enough to break skin. He growled both in release and pain as I growled in anger. He tried not to be too distracted by my fingers but was unable to stop me as I rose up higher on my knees, arching my back against his hold on my scruff. I felt the rest of his ejaculation marking my throat and collar bone, and sprinkling onto my violet-tipped breasts as I leaned back from him as much as I could.

Marking my face was probably one thing Jaunda would have done aplenty had she been able to, simply because I wouldn’t have been able to stop her, but I had never considered semen in the eye an enjoyable thing in the least. It stung, and the first time it had happened, I had done it to myself not knowing quite what to expect as I stroked the young male Drow off for the first time.

Cris could paint my skin with his male fluid if he felt the need, but I did not have to accept it in my eyes. They hurt enough already just being on the Surface, even in a windowless, Sunless room lit with lamps.

When he’d finished, he used his grip to toss me back from him as he gasped heavily and I landed on my back with my legs open. He looked down on me, his pearly cum glistening on my dark skin, across my lips and part of my cheeks, my throat, a little farther down in artfully arrayed droplets. He was smiling and looked quite satisfied.

“Lick your lips,” he ordered, watching intently.

“No. You taste instead,” I returned with a smile.

He huffed a short laugh, one knee hitting the mattress between my thighs as he lunged for my forearms, preventing me from wiping away his seed from my face. Next he braced his elbows at my thighs and held me wide open. I thought it similar to the way I’d held both Jael and Shyntre when I’d wanted to give them oral sex, whether they accepted or not.

“Indeed, I shall taste,” he said thickly, yanking my backside closer to the edge so he could kneel comfortably from the floor instead of being ass-up on the bed.

I tensed and couldn’t suppress a shiver as his tongue slid once, teasingly, along my puffy, purple netherlips. He inhaled the scent of my white bush and licked a bit of sweat from my inner thigh—right about where Kurn had bitten me—before exhaling in supreme pleasure.

“Zenebreva ithir jih,” he muttered with a drunken smile, and I heard and understood the tone, if not the exact meaning. What language was this?

Cris started sucking hungrily on my slit, and the way that he held me immobile, using his weight to keep me both down and open with his large hands closed on my forearms, I could do little but grip his forearms in kind and at least brace to shift my hips as needed to pleasure myself.

He feasted with a very firm touch; he lacked subtlety while he was this excited. His tongue took turns slapping at my nub and piercing my hole to stroke me on the inside; his teeth nipped playfully at my netherlips before bathing them with his whole mouth.

This was more for his own satisfaction than learning my own responses to see what truly caused me to writhe. But given that this play had begun as a purely physical test and not one of memory like the first time, I was hot enough still to approach the edge this way. Several of my Sisters had been like this, too.

My breath caught and surged, I shifted my hips frequently, what little bit that I could. Cris encouraged me with vibrating hums and growls, entirely focused on forcing me to climax. All signs suggested he would not stop before I’d reached my pleasure, though some part of me almost expected that he might leave me wanting.

I worked for the proper angle and stimulation, feeling my core begin to tighten up as I got closer. Little warning surges rose and fell in my lower regions as my pussy seemed to open and flutter, as if promising ecstasy to any phallus willing to serve my yearning need as it became engorged in blood.

“Ah…!” I cried softly at first, the intensity of the sensation hurting as much as it pleased as his tongue pressed directly on my nub. “N-ngh—!”

Cris released both my arms at once, using one hand to hike one of my legs higher, holding behind the knee. The other he used to replaced his tongue, laying his thumb across my pleasure spot and pressing down. The new angle and pressure not only kept my orgasm coming but allowed him to lean down and thrust his slick tongue between my cheeks, piercing my half-raw netherhole.

I gasped and shrieked; it was all I needed to feel the first waves spreading through my sex and my body as the tension finally began to unravel. The fact that I knew he could feel my backside clenching down over and over again on his rimming tongue made it even better. “Yes, ah, goddess! Ah!”

Cris let me ride most of the way down before crawling up on the bed and bodily shifting me upward to make room for him. I was still groggy and coasting, my heart pounding, but the next moment I felt him push his cock into my snug and very welcoming pussy.

He shifted to lift my hips off the bed and leave me looking up at him with my body braced on my upper back, my legs wide and him thrusting between them. I could already feel the crack of my ass becoming wet from the movement of our coupling, and my eyes landed on Kurn’s ruby around his neck. It glowed subtly with power.

“Aia Innathi,” he said hoarsely and held my hips, fucking me with such enthusiasm… more than Kerse, I would have said. “So…you feel so…”

He growled something I couldn’t make out; he kept switching languages.

The first time I felt him strike my womb, though, I lifted one leg and struck him with the heel of my foot. It jolted him out of a near-trance and his eyes seemed to flash in irritation.

“Stop,” I gasped. “Not so deep.”

He smirked and shifted quickly, lowering my hips back to the mattress but taking my wrists instead to pin them out away from my body. As I tensed to do something, I hadn’t chosen yet, he lay atop me entirely, using almost his full weight. He continued humping me but, as I’d demanded, not so deep that he was hurting me.

The new problem was that I had a fair amount of trouble breathing; his weight compressed my ribs and pressed my entire body into the mattress as I lay in a form-fitting dent. Whenever I tried to speak, he pushed his weight heavier and cut off my breath as he thrust harder into my body. I squirmed and gasped, not feeling much pleasure as this angle did not reach any of my sensitive spots. I could do little but punish him with some light bruises on his calves from the heels of my feet; I could not escape. He just kept thrusting into me, over and over and over.

It was very clear he intended to seed my sex this time and was trying to keep me under control for long enough for him to peak a second time. He was smart to keep his face outside of biting range and did not try to kiss me. My mute expression of impotent rage met his laughing eyes and lust-slackened mouth as he moaned, preparing to spill his cream inside me.

“No…” I managed an aborted croak on one gasp, my head beginning to throb at my temples from the lack of regular air even as I strained against him.

I felt cold fear mix with the afterglow in my belly. Such an unknown risk to me, to the unborn I wanted to keep. Could Cris-ri-phon force my present pregnancy to end, to start over? Did he mean to keep me trapped here until he’d studded himself on me as he claimed to have done with some long-dead Drow?

“N-no, Cris—” I forced out, and he seemed to sense my panic.

“Don’t worry, little fighter,” he gasped, thrusting faster, harder. “It rarely… happens… without a surge of… wild magic.”

His expression shifted oddly between a smile and a grimace right before he gasped and cried out, and I felt is cock throb within my tightly clutching channel as he finished at last inside me. I flexed and struggled but I could no more stop his deposit between my legs than I could get a full breath. He collapsed atop me completely and I was smothered, unable to make a sound as my lungs ached for air.

I bit at his cheek immediately when he’d lowered his head to enjoy the afterglow. He reacted quickly and jerked away, rising partially up, his angry expression softening somewhat when I sucked in my first full breath in quite a while.

“Get off me!” I cried.

He chuckled but pushed himself up on his arms and withdrew from my sopping, ruffled slit, moving to the side as I rolled out of the divot in the mattress. My inner thighs were stiff as I brought my legs back together, having been held wide and apart for so long. It had taken Cris a while to climax that second time, and our skin was sticky for having been pressed together so long; we’d smeared the seed from his first spending all over ourselves.

The fresh semen oozing out now as I sat and discreetly bore down, right on his blanket just for spite, did not feel like just a little bit. Somehow he was still a breeding male, despite his apparent age.

I also noticed the receding pressure of his aura and my head cleared a bit faster as I breathed. I had to suppress the rise of heat in my gut and the urge to attack him, attack to kill. That wouldn’t be smart, even if I had hated the last part of that coupling.

Now I had to admit I feared an evident truth as well. The longer I stayed here, the more dangerous it would be for my freedom and the safety of my baby. I had to get out of this shuttered inn, and in a way that would not set this…this…”magician”—which was not even powerful enough of a word—to tracking or following me. I could not simply escape; I had to negotiate with him.

The thought seemed overwhelming at that moment. I did not know enough about him. I still did not know for certain what he wanted, other than to mate his first Drow in a long time.

I could imagine Jaunda’s response to my hesitation. *Don’t know, huh? So find out.*

Yes, he had promised a talk afterward. Yet…in what ways would discovering what I needed to know change everything for me? Would I ever be able to go back to the Sisterhood?

*Everything changed for me the moment the Illithid got loose. I am following the natural course, the consequences of that.*

I would be for years to come; I only just realized it in that moment. If I remained alive, it would not be, for me, unlike the Man sitting on the bed… who still remembered what the Valsharess had done to him long ago.

“Feel better?” Cris asked, and I looked at him. He had been watching me very carefully in those few moments of quiet.

I nodded. “I am not…used to mating that way.”

“In what way?”

“Male on top, controlling everything.”

“I could tell.”

“Very little pleasure in that position.”

“Duly noted.” He leaned to brush the back of his hand against my shoulder. “Unfortunately one does not simply let the assassin kneel astride you the first time. Or the first few times.” He smiled in admiring amusement. “As stunning of a view as I’m sure that is.”

I absorbed that. “Meaning you allow it at times.”

“At times,” he repeated. “It depends how dangerous the female is.” He grinned. “I have a penchant for dangerous females.”

“Would a Ma’ab witch be considered dangerous, then?” I asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“You are thinking of Amelda’s mother. Yes, she was a dangerous one.”

“How did you find such a one if they are far away now?”

“They’ve been nosing around for decades, and the Ma’ab women are a breath of fresh air for how willful they can be,” he replied. “Unlike most powers in this area right now, the Ma’ab women can actually wield true power in their politics and religion. It’s a pity the military is starting to rebel against their decisions.”

“How do you know that?”

He smiled. “Amelda spent the first part of her life with her mother before she was killed. Kurn seems to support that change happening.” He shrugged. “I’d thought they might have the potential to become an empire like mine, but they are squabbling around the wrong things too soon.”

“Like yours,” I seized. “When? Where?”

He tilted his head almost coyly. “Are you certain you want to know that, Sirana? I shall be happy to tell you, as it is part of your heritage, but then you have put yourself in quite a quandary concerning your own place with your queen and your race’s history.”

I was already in a quandary.

“Meaning, what?” I said. “You would wish me to return to tell the tale?”

“I think telling the tale at this point will only get you executed. But you would have other options.”

I did not like the way he looked at me when he said that. One of those options, no doubt in my mind, was staying willingly with him, protected and dependent on him for resources and contacts on the Surface. I would be away from all my Sisters, and I would be assumed to be either a demoness or the submissive sex, every day. It would also mean I very well might give birth on the Surface and any magic and history my child might learn would primarily come from Cris-ri-phon. He might wish me to breed with me as well.

I knew did not match well in such a place; it was not my nature. I may yet be able to do better.

And choosing to learn no more than what he’d said before? This would not put me back to the time before the Man with the phoenix ring had his arms around me and told me that my queen had killed her own sister… before he claimed that a Drow had chosen a non-Drow to sire her children.

It was too late for that.

I nodded. “I am certain. I want to know your history with my race, what my queen has done, if you say She is the same as your wife’s sister.”

Cris looked content with my answer but did not start speaking immediately. He looked around his quarters first, scanning, although what he was seeing, I did not know. His white brows drew down and he frowned as he focused on something.

“A moment,” he said, and if I had thought it a tease at first, or a bait and switch, I changed my mind when I saw him approach one of his many displays.

Something elongated and wrapped in a finely decorated black silk was hanging halfway over the edge and seemed about to fall to the floor. Cris shifted it back onto its stand where it was secure.

Once satisfied with that, the Human sorcerer returned to the bed and sat with a low breath, comfortable being nude and sticky or perhaps thinking of some place or some time far away. Eventually he looked at me. “Where to start?”

I shrugged. “How many children did you sire with your Drow ‘wife.’”

“An odd place to start.”

“But a one-word answer that tells me more than just that.”

He started to smile, his grey eyes brightening in humor. “Eleven.”

My jaw dropped open and he laughed aloud.

“I will add that we cheated a bit with magic, they were not all natural Elfish conceptions, which I trust are still spaced out several decades at least?”

I barely nodded.

He nodded as well. “And we discovered that a human hybrid develops a little faster than the full-blooded cousins.”

It seemed quite clear and obvious, then, why our queen would have acted against her sister. She was changing the Drow race every bit as much as Wilsira had been caught doing.

“So you are Human, then.”

“In a manner of speaking. There hasn’t been one of my bloodline as potent ever since the fall, nor will there ever be again.”

I hesitated in which direction to take this. Bloodline? The fall? I resisted the tangent, wanting to stay focused on his mate, on my race and the Valsharess.

“Even still,” I said, “how long did that take, to bear so many with her?”

He tried to think, perhaps not remembering so clearly anymore. “A few centuries, perhaps.”

“Do any still live?”

His expression darkened quickly. “No. Not a one. But not from the theoretical shortened lifespan, being ‘only’ half-Drow. Your queen had them collected and killed the same day she attacked her sister giving birth to what would have been our twelfth child.”

I felt a cold rush pass through me as my eyes widened. “She…what? During birth?”

Cris nodded, watching me with simmering anger.

“How do you know? Where were you?”

Most of his face seemed to harden into granite and I felt his aura pulse. “Away. Leading the armies. When I returned, I found her and the rest rotting. Most of the servants, too. Enough evidence had been left that I’d thought it had been my brother performing a coup against me, so I went after him. I killed him even as he shouted his innocence. I… did not think it could have been her sister, not during that specific time.”

His eyes focused on me and I had the strong urge to shrink back from what I saw in them. “Wasn’t that one of the few sanctions that all of Elvish kind followed?”

I could only nod. We did, even now.


“How do you know?” I asked again.

“All the items I had seen present at my wife’s birthing before had been left there as a taunt, and the babe had been ripped out of her body.”

I felt nausea and could not hide it; Cris seemed satisfied at my reaction.

“Why would the V-…why would She do that?”

“Why do you think she did it? She’s queen now, Sirana, and has been for over two thousand years with control over all of you, even your memory.”

I stared and started to shake my head, then stopped. And swallowed. “Wait… your wife had… had been queen?”

He nodded once. “Wise enough to know that she needed allies to stand against the Noldor, even powerful as she was. She chose me as her primary general, and only sire, and I served her well for a long time. When she was murdered, the alliances broke apart and the Noldor and their allies succeeded in driving the Drow away and breaking the back of my empire. I did not know where my queen’s sister had fled and I could not follow. I had my own banishment to survive. I swore to find a way back no matter how long it took.”

I could see such a tale unfolding in my mind, but…but how could I know that it was true? To be fooled as I had been so once again… Why would Lolth allow the Valsharess to remain on the throne if she had done such a thing?

He watched me and added quietly, “My memory has not always been with me, as clear as it is now. But I see before me an exotic youth of my greatest allies to prove that you still exist.”

I did not have ready questions for a revelation this big, so I found myself focusing on the smallest word that made the least amount of sense in that statement. “Exotic?”

“You do not look as I remember, and it was the Noldor who often had blue or green eyes. You are still Drow, I can see that clearly, but you have changed…adapted to the underground, I must think.”

That, and we used some Priestess ritual to create the Consorts, who probably changed the appearance of the Nobility in much less time than it should have taken by natural breeding. Why would the Valsharess have wanted that, if She was so against change? Or maybe it wasn’t change, but only magical half-breeds She did not want. Or maybe Her visions had told Her something else…?

“I would ask a more specific question about you, Sirana,” he said. “A return for what I’ve shared of me.”

I blinked and focused on him with a nod. “I’m listening.”

“It’s an odd thing to ask, perhaps, but…our first coupling, I know you wanted to avoid taking my seed in your womb, to the point you were willing to have me mount your back portal instead. At the time, I was intent on proving to you I could take you however I wanted regardless of how you fought. But after my head cleared I saw how you manipulated me.”

I kept watching and waiting for the question.

Cris shook his head slightly. “It should have hurt you much more, even as I had no intent to be brutal. The ease of it, the pleasure you received despite my size, and actually peaking…?” He huffed a laugh. “You undid me and I could not hold back at that. I can only assume you are very familiar with such penetration.”

“Is that your question?”

He shook his head. “I know the answer is yes. But the female Drow I knew, as a whole, would not have that familiarity. Mostly as it was seen as intended for males, since they get more pleasure from the pressure to their sex gland anyway. Only a female either with a very specific leaning or trained for it would behave as you did. Which is it, and why?”

I had experimented once I’d discovered males, of course, and enjoyed it prior to the Sisterhood, but it was definitely the training that gave it such a fine edge for me now. But how to explain? It would show more of our current culture, with the Red Sisters’ appetites being generally feared by the Nobles, than I had realized. And this occurs to him just seeing how I enjoyed having my netherhole reamed?

It was a odd question, but quite perceptive.

“Trained,” I granted, trying to simplify so hopefully he would ask no deeper questions, “though I suppose I always had the penchant. As an…assassin…it makes me resilient to male dominance with enemies if I am captured. As you discovered.”

He smirked briefly but it didn’t hold. “Implying there are males being used to train you in such a way.”

“Yes, a few.” I wasn’t going to talk about the Feldeu.

“Interesting,” he said. “I did not sense any horror or denial at my using you the way I did. You met me half way, held fast against me.”

“It would have changed had you begun bleeding me, Cris.”

“No doubt. A useful tactic against males too sure of their own power while using their cocks, and a good reminder for me.” The sorcerer grinned. “Oddly specific training for your being from a matriarchy so far away, though. You reacted worse to being pinned and receiving no pleasure yourself as I smothered you.”

I shrugged with a slight frown, unsure how much to say. I’d been held down and given no pleasure before, but usually at least two or three other females, not one big male.

Though mostly, I had just been afraid of his claimed fertility magic.

“You were forcing your seed into my womb, Cris, despite my protest…like you wanted me to catch.”

He smiled. “The idea is enticing.”

My frown grew with my anger. “I cannot afford a pregnancy now.”

“Then your queen should have provided the means to remain infertile while on this ‘mission.’”

I felt a hotter flash, at both of them. “I understood it would not be possible with Humans or dwarves, and you said yourself it required a surge of ‘wild magic.’ Far away from male Drow, it shouldn’t happen.”

“Not often,” he granted. “But still possible. The more magical, the more likely.”

Lolth dammit…and the Valsharess would have known that since She witnessed her own sister conceive. She knew Cris-ri-phon still existed as well, or Rausery wouldn’t have been compelled to search for him. Perhaps She had not seen that I would meet him, but yes, it was Her fault if She had played the odds every time some of us had been sent to the Surface. What would She do if we actually caught from a magical male not of our race?

“And now?” I asked. “Did you put me at risk?”

His smile had an arrogant slant. “If I had, you’d have known it. You’d still be drunk on the magic.”

Again Cris-ri-phon looked up at the room to frown at something that distracted him; I held my tongue as I watched carefully when he got up again. Angry as I felt, at least I could believe that he truly did not know I was already pregnant and he did not put my own at risk just now, so I considered that the larger win over his imperious disrespect.

My pride aside, all I truly needed was to be allowed to leave this inn, to continue to seek Gaelan and Jael, and I would have won this challenge.

I watched as the sorcerer went to the same display as before; the wrapped item had once again been spun and was hanging halfway over the edge of the shelf. This time, instead of putting it back as it had been, Cris lifted it down carefully.

My trained eye realized even before he pulled the ribbon holding it closed that it was either a long dagger or a short sword in that wrapping. Like when Gavin’s “mistress” had seemed to fill the room upstairs after he’d died, I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A hot tingle instead of a cold trickle flowed down my back.

“I had wondered if it could sense you. Now I know,” the immortal Man said now, unveiling a familiar red and black hilt. “Of course it would. Your race made this.”

*Oh, goddess…* I lifted my hand in an instinctive, defensive gesture, but put it back down before he turned to me.

Cris-ri-phon stepped forward to bring the dagger from my dreams toward me, as the silhouette had, though at least he was not brandishing it.

“It was imbued with magic from the start but has developed some level of sentience over the centuries. I think it is as happy as I am to see one of you again.”

I’d never seen the scabbard before, I realized, but it matched the colors and style of the hilt, lining up in a single design. As thin strokes of bright red curved around the mostly-black hilt, so too did lines of fire cut through darkness along the length of the sheath to the tip. I considered that only a magical blade could have somehow kept its hard leather sheath in nearly new condition for as long as the blade remained sharp.

“The first time it is drawn by anyone, there is a contest of wills,” Cris-ri-phon said. “The dagger must accept being wielded by its carrier. One can have no self-doubt in that moment.”

He joined me back on the bed and placed the blade down on the blanket between us, a very small smile on his mouth.

“I do not doubt you have the necessary will, Sirana, and if you should want to claim it back for your race…well, it has made it clear to me that it wants you to try. Don’t think it won’t test you, though.”

I tried to decide just what this dagger’s place had been in my dreams. Threatening, but only when the wielder was threatening. On its own, it simply drew my attention to it. What Cris said now made sense, but…I did not think weapons such as this were common now. Had they ever been?

“How many like this did we make, when you knew us?” I asked.

“Very few,” he said readily. “And they can be undone by a wizard powerful enough to dispel whatever the source happens to be.”

“Source. Such as?”

Cris shrugged. “Something imprisoned or bonded to it, such as a spirit, devil, or demon…a telepathic share with some shade or impression that is drawn from the user…or a link to the elsewhere. Whatever the source, it is very difficult to stabilize, and very dangerous. This one had been passed through others a few times since I lost track of it after the fall, but I recaptured it eventually, as I did the others. A few I had to dispel, they’d become unstable in other hands.”

I pursed my lips. “But you did not want to ‘dispel’ this one.”

He half-smiled, wryness tinged with…something. Regret? “It was a reminder. It was proof it had not been some extended delusion on my part. It belonged to my wife, the previous queen.”

A weapon companion to a Matriarch. I felt just enough doubt then that I knew I would not touch it at that moment.

“What happens if one fails the test of will?” I asked.

“It varies,” he said. “I’ve seen simple rejection; the would-be carrier can’t touch it without thinking themselves in pain. I’ve seen a push toward madness, an inability to release one’s grip or control where it was swung. In one or two cases, I watched the drawer die after being forced to stab himself. Which brings me to the particular source of this blade’s power.”

I watched and waited, paying full attention as his smile took on a darker edge.

“You saw the spirit that Master Gavin tugged from the newly dead, correct?”

I nodded.

“The dagger draws on that, takes it in, sends it elsewhere. The power exchange rejuvenates the magic of the blade. It was designed as an eternal punishment for when my queen thought it warranted. She did not have to use it often because it was so feared, though sometimes it was simply needed to sate its thirst. It had a name…but the closest translation I can give you is ‘Soul Drinker.’”

Against I felt some strange feeling creep up my back. “And…you would see me take this blade…?”

He shook his head. “This blade wants to you to draw it. Only do so when you’ve decided to claim it back for the Drow.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion and he laughed aloud.

“Sirana, if you might think this would be an overt plan for vengeance against your queen, only know that Soul Drinker is as willful as my queen was. Not only that, but as much as I might like the image of that murdering linshok being drawn into the elsewhere against her will, if she has remained alive this long then I think one as young and inexperienced as you would not have the opportunity to sink a dagger between her ribs in the first place. This is simply my passing on what I know of your heritage, and leaving it to you what you think of it.”

Indeed, what I thought of it…all of it. Maddeningly, I did not know what to think. I should have more questions, and yet I did not know where to start. My mind felt muddled, it may have been his aura doing that or it may have been the odd, high pitch that seemed to be humming in the background whenever I looked at “Soul Drinker.”

Cris’s tale had a huge gap in time between then and now…I could try to go farther back, the beginning of the war, perhaps? What would it matter to me now, in this inn?

“Do you mean to let me go, then?” I asked. “Whether or not I take this heritage piece with me?”

“Tell me why you are so keen to go.”

“I don’t like being kept.”

He chuckled. “Fair. And your goals? That black vial at Manalar?”

“To be dropped into their holy pool.”

His white brows rose up and he looked thoughtful…then absolutely gleeful. He purred, “I should be able to feel that even from here…” He leaned back and laughed out loud. “Oh, most tempting on that alone. But you will be lucky to survive that, Sirana. You do realize, yes?”

“Of course. But I have been lucky thus far.”

He shook his head skeptically. “To be given such a task, and you would you follow through with it showing all the determination of someone who expects to live? Either you are supremely unrealistic, or there is much you are not saying, young one.”

“Very well, I do seek the Guild. Where can I find them?”

If my head did not seem as clear around him or this dagger to be subtle, then it was time to put more cards on the table for trade.

He blinked grey eyes in surprise. “Hm. Well. I believe there is a presence in Augran, west of here, but it is out of the way for Manalar, which is more south. Just as the cannibals are out of the way as well, you must go further north for them.”

It was my turn to blink.

“I haven’t forgotten, Sirana. You are interested in the Warpstone Cult, too. I would still give you the means to break them and pay you, if you wish. I do want them gone. Soul Drinker would be especially harmful to them—it disrupts focused will and those creatures barely have one upon which to act—as well, your necromancer and the Ma’ab caster can focus energy upon them which would be devastating. Kurn, Mathias, and the dwarf would be little more than body shields, but you are still the first group I have met who could complete the task. I warn against getting the cannibal’s fluids in the eyes, mouth, or an open wound…they are contagious to a degree.”

“Why haven’t you taken care of the cult?” I asked, listening to the advice but unable to ignore this part. “You are powerful enough.”

He smiled. “I am, but it would require quite a lot of energy from a single mage. My particular brand of magic would draw unwanted attention from… interested parties, shall we say, which would force me to leave this place quite soon. I was not ready to leave, I was waiting for you. Now you are here…and you have a curious interest as well. You can get what you wish, I will help you, and I may remain here a little longer.”

“And that earlier comment about forbidding me to put myself in harm’s way?”

“We had not yet had opportunity to talk as we are now, and I wanted to see if it would work on you. It did not, and I am not surprised.”

I felt uneasy about this cooperation somehow. He did not seem like the kind to back up and take back shows of dominance, and I truly did not know what he planned next now that he had found a single Drow after searching for so long.

But then, he knew I had told him very little of why I was here as well and, like the Valshress, he had not yet discovered a way to lift ready thoughts from my mind. He may be taking the same course as me, trying to gain enough insight to get what he wanted.

So he was acting more as he was before, as Brom, the admiring, respectful innkeeper not obstructive to my goals… despite the force and control he’d used both times we had coupled.

“Did you discover anything of the other assassin?” I asked, turned the direction sharply again.

Cris narrowed his eyes a bit, surprising me with his answer. “I’ll keep that to myself for now, Sirana.”

I felt a bubble of a laugh as a thought struck me, though I did not voice it. “I would guess that means your ward was set at the time the oil fire was smothered.”

He frowned.

“And she, or he, got out. So that one is magical.”

Cris hissed a breath, admitting defeat on that one point. “Not necessarily. A magical tool could allow the same result, and I know the Guild possesses such items.”

I smiled a bit. “A touch on the pride?”

“I dislike any uninvited, arriving or leaving, and if it was the Guild, they should know better.”

“If it was the Guild,” I repeated.

He smiled, and swapped the fact that he did not find anything in his search for turning focus around on me again. “And you want to contact them in Augran. Why? Want to offer your services, perhaps? You are not planning to die in a suicide mission but I have made it more difficult to return. Are you looking to earn resources in exile?”

“Do you think they would be interested?” I asked, feeling a bit more on my game, if only for the moment. I got more comfortable sitting cross-legged. “They have probably not seen my kind before.”

“True,” Cris granted. “Though there are a few Noldor here and there, so perhaps it is not a good idea.”

His answer was a two-for-one that, fortunately, my utter surprise and shock was the natural and appropriate response. First, Cris did not know of the half-Drow I sought, even though Sarilis had been able to make a connection based on the stories of the shadow-walker. This made sense, because if Cris ever had, he no doubt would have gone searching for him with the same tenacity and stubbornness he had sat here waiting for one of us to cross the midway again.

Second… *There are pale elves in the Guild, too?!*

How could that be?

“They…must not recognize you,” I said, my voice a bit soft.

“I have not given them the chance to recognize me,” he said with a wolfish smile.

I let my shoulder slump a bit. “I suppose perhaps it is not a good idea to offer my services, then.”

“Indeed, not. But if you seek a place to stay in safety after completing your tasks, Sirana, I would always welcome you.”

And there verbalized the offer than had been plain on his face earlier.

I nodded. “I will have to rethink some things. It would seem I am not heading to Augran after all.”

This mage had never made a connection with the stories and the race he sought. How could that be? Sarilis had mentioned tales of a planar mage, or a pet demon, or someone who walked through walls. Nothing pointed directly at the Drow, there were many others known in his magical world and long life that could accomplish the same. Sarilia had only made the connection because I had actually said I sought a demon within the organization, and he had already discussed it with Rausery. Even back then it had probably been a lucky guess.

For the first time, I wondered if Sarilis and Rausery were wrong about a half-Drow in the Guild. The Valsharess would have to be wrong as well, going straightly on Rausery’s word. Would one of Her visions have confirmed it for Her?

*Must be. She had a physical description of him. He exists, I have to go on that.*

Unlike with Sarilis, however, I had avoided asking directly about that individual, and that was for the better with this particular Man. I would have to forego further knowledge from him about the Guild or I would trade very little for his inevitable interference. I could not see Cris-ri-phon failing to hunt that particular male.

“What do you see in the vial?” I asked him. “I already knew to be very careful before you told me, I know it will disrupt their god connection and transform those drawing their magic from the sacred pool into berserkers.”

Cris-ri-phon half-smiled. “It will certainly do that. It was not your servant who made it, is it?”

“No, his master.”


“Because he is plotting with the Ma’ab and the dwarf against Manalar. He does not wish their religion to spread.”

“Hm. If he cares that much then he must not have crossed back over from the Greylands yet. Powerful to have created as foul a thing as you carry on you in the first place, but I dare say his apprentice now has his own advantage from hard-won experience.” Cris smiled a bit, as if oddly proud of the young Human.

It struck me then how often Sarilis had mentioned his age and his mortality, how he had questioned me intently on my race and our lifespan; it was certainly on his mind in a way that it was not in Cris-ri-phon. Gavin was even beginning to show signs of…I wasn’t sure, perhaps something like the “unbreakable” mentality when a warrior survived the impossible once, whether by luck or design. I would have to watch him closely that he did not get reckless.

But Sarilis feared aging and dying; ironic that he was surrounded by only the dead.

Certainly he was searching for a way to continue on, as Cris had…

“I think we are at the same place, Sirana,” Cris said. “There is no way this master necromancer told you the complete consequences of dropping that vial into the pool.”

“Would you know any more?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“No. I am sorry, but while it is not only necromancers who may cross that particular boundary, my magic has far too much in common with Elvish. For obvious reasons. You could ask your Master Gavin, however. It may be beyond his training to make at this time, but given enough time—and he just bought himself a notable amount of it— that boy can likely learning anything of the craft. He has potential and I’ll be curious how he fares over the next few decades, provided he doesn’t get ‘cleansed’ with holy fire at Manalar.”

Cris definitely had my attention. “I suppose you have read his aura then?”

He nodded. “Much more powerful than Castis, never mind they are different schools of training. I can offer that the last I’ve run into a similar one has been perhaps…thirty, forty years? A few in every generation of Humans are especially bright, but not all find the training they need. These days especially they must avoid being killed out of superstition and fear before they are able to act on their ambition to find a teacher. It was not always this way. We used to seek out and recruit them, to mold them as we needed…” He trailed off and sighed.

“When did that change?” I asked.

“It began changing after the war, when your kind disappeared and the Noldor enjoyed victory but did not follow up on their goals. Further wars following soon after destroyed a lot of schools, libraries, and archives. I’ve heard a few of your pale cousins say Humans brought it on themselves, these dark times; I have never understood exactly how they came to that conclusion given that they won and should have maintained the power they had fought and died for. Something changed for them as well, but I do not know what.

“I was one of their greatest enemies once, and it is largely that fact that I have endless ‘champions’ backed by the pale Elves coming after me. The pale ones do not face me themselves but hope a moderately magical Human will succeed in finally making me go away.”

I blinked my way out of was seemed a hypnotic voice as I listened to him, and something came to mind. Champion. “Have you heard of someone being called the ‘Godblood’? Might he be after you?”

Cris’s grey eyes narrowed and he considered too long for me to think it so. He shrugged. “This is somewhat new, I take it?”

I nodded. “Within the last decade. A holy warrior of Manalar faith, if I understand the story correctly.”

The sorcerer snorted in derision. “Ah. Well. I’m sure he would not take kindly to my presence if he knew I was here, but no, I have not heard much on this. Perhaps I will need to change that. I take it he is known to the Noldor somehow?”

I nodded. “They champion him.”

Cris gave me an odd look. “And he is Manalar? The Manalar take anything not human and try to burn it, Sirana. That includes the Noldor.”

“Well…” I hesitated. “Perhaps I get the story wrong. He travels to Manalar to test them, so it goes, and they likely will not welcome his coming word.”

Wasn’t that about what Gavin had said of the monastery teachings?

“Hm. Interesting.” Cris did indeed look intrigued. “And that is all you know? How did this come up?”

“Your mentioning Noldor sending ‘champions’ after you. He is one of theirs—” My words stopped and my attention was drawn away from the sorcerer sitting across from me when I felt something cold touch my knee. I looked down and gasped softly.

Soul Drinker’s red-rune pommel was touching me; it had pivoted just enough so as not to be lying straight between us anymore like some sort of border, but with its grip toward me and the point toward Cris-ri-phon. The high pitch was still there as if it wanted to talk to me but I was not listening with the correct ears.

I looked up at him, feeling tiny bumps spread across my shoulders.

“I did not do that,” he said flatly. “You have seen the dagger pivot on the shelf.”

“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I only see the end result, and I know magic moves items with force of will. Surely you can do that.”

He shrugged. “I can. But I did not with this dagger, on this day. Make of it what you will.”

I got up off the bed and made my way toward his wash basin; all of the sweat and fluids had long since dried on my skin. Suddenly I wanted to be clean.

“Would you like me to warm it for you, Sirana?” he asked quietly from the bed.

“Please,” I answered, not looking behind me, just then beginning to feel the swiftly-approaching emptiness in my belly as well. I would need to eat soon.

He whispered his chant and soon the fresh water in one of the pitchers was steaming gently. I began washing myself as I had the first time, unsettled more so than I had been then. I wanted to be dressed, and I needed to do something to clear my head.

“I would suggest checking on Mathias,” he said as if he understood that I needed to leave the room. “He is in an outbuilding, apart and behind the inn, the ward will allow you to go that far. I am serious in that I would like to hear your thoughts on him.”

Because it would tell him something of the Drow now, I figured, but I nodded all the same as I begin to dress in silence.

“I see more benefit in releasing you than keeping you, Sirana,” he said plainly. “Be assured of that. But I am not finished with our visit yet.”

*And if I am?* I thought, but did not bother to say it aloud. He would be host until he tired of it, or I could persuade him otherwise, that was clear. How long, though? Days? Weeks?

“We have further conversation yet. And further pleasures, if you want them.”

I heard the smile enter his tone.

“And if I do not?” I asked.

“Surely you are not pouting, Sirana.”

“You offered the choice, Cris, do you not mean it?”

“I do, but do not make it while angry with me.”

“Difficult when you threaten to force a child on me just to spite the queen.”

He grunted. “You want an agreement otherwise?”

“You expect pleasure otherwise?”

“I suppose not. Very well, Sirana, I agree.”

I nodded once. “I also have no interest in repeating your last position. There was no pleasure there.”

“Unused to being bested by someone so much bigger, little fighter?”

I expelled a breath. I had been bested many times, but mostly by my Sisters… It did feel different with a Human male, the size difference, but perhaps…I was forgetting my lessons.

I sighed next, intentionally relaxing, letting the tension drain from my shoulders. “I will take pleasure if that is what you offer. Being crushed and unable to breathe, being thrust into from that angle, was not pleasurable in the least. That is all I will say of it.”

“Then I shall not repeat it. Perhaps you would like to be on top?”

“We’ll see.”

“I look forward to it. Take Soul Drinker with you. You do not have to draw it, but I will get no peace if you do not.”

I looked at him and narrowed my eyes; he was smiling but did not seem to be joking. The dagger’s pommel had already begun to spin toward me again like some lodestone. I had wanted peace as well to eat; I wanted to get away from this Man’s aura and clear my head, not have it replaced by a supposedly intelligent dagger as old as he was….

And yet…if I had not seen it in my dreams, if my first dream had not shown me what it must feel like to be stabbed by it, to have one’s essence drawn out into the “elsewhere” that made me fear it…would I not be curious about such a powerful new tool? Especially given that I was now in an impossible position with the Valsharess regardless? He had also said that it would be powerful against the Warpstone cult, which would help Gaelan…

I sighed quietly and finished dressing as Cris got up to wash as well, then I walked back to the bed where Soul Drinker was hovering partly off the edge of the mattress.

*Very well.*

I reached out to take hold of it by the decorated scabbard, and the moment my gloved hand closed around it…the subtle, high pitch stopped. My hand seemed to tingle even through my glove, but nothing else happened.

“Oh, thank you,” Cris-ri-phon sighed, rubbing the cloth over his face. “That has been going on for almost two hours now.”

The dagger was a bit shorter than my fighting daggers, but not by much despite that it was also much lighter than it appeared it should be. I was not sure where I would put it; I would already have to dispose of the Witch Hunter’s dagger somewhere, I could not have it flopping on my belt all the time, which was really quite full…

I would hold Soul Drinker in my fist for the time being; it seemed content with that.

I felt the ward on the door dispel as I approached it, and I let myself out to get some distance from the sorcerer, even if I would not get distance from his tale as I held a large piece of it in my hand.


Rithal had left the kitchen while I’d been sequestered in Brom’s room, though “Elana” was still there, working busily with the two children I’d seen sleeping by the hearth last night. They were preparing for the next big meal that had to feed no fewer than twenty large men and five or six women.

Elana looked older than Amelda, her skin weathered, lightly brown, her hair a muted blonde simply plaited. She wore a sturdy, modest dress of deep green with a well-used, practical, natural linen cloth tied around her somewhat plump waist. Her boots were practical and well-worked. Compared to the pink, tender hands of the young Humans taking her direction, her own hands were aged and calloused.

Elana saw me first and gasped aloud, badly startling the young ones who were frozen and wide-eyed the next moment, but stammered out a greeting. “M’lady….h-how may I serve?”

“Just food,” I said. “Like the dwarf.”

She nodded, eyes glancing at the dagger in my hand but she seemed more concerned about me. “And ale?”


“Care more for meat or plant? Bean or grain?”

I smiled a bit; she wasn’t assuming that she knew how to feed me. I kind of liked that about her. “Bit of all. I will try anything.”

“An’ where will you eat?”

I indicated the work table inside the kitchen. “Here. I shan’t linger.”

Elana nodded and collected a gathering of cheese, fruit, and vegetable rather like Cris’s self-chosen platter last night, but also a chunk of bread, some of the same paste as I’d pilfered before but with softer shreds of dried meat with different seasonings.

It was cold, but it was fast. I sat, setting the Soul Drinker blade down atop the table where it would be visible at all times, and dug right in.

The three kept busy but kept sneaking looks, which I ignored. They wanted to say something, probably many things, but were too afraid. I decided, after looking up at the two children who froze in place again when we made brief eye contact, that these might be one male and one female child, but I had no idea of the age. The boy had hair blonde like honey and was a little taller but as soft-faced as the red-blonde girl, and neither had traits that would suggest they were nearing breeding age yet.

“How many years are those two?” I asked Elana, indicating the children.

Her dull blue eyes blinked and she glanced warily at them before back at me, wiping her hands on the cloth around her waist. “Ah…Layne is nine years, m’Lady,” she indicated the male child, “and Imara is seven.”

I tilted my head. They did look just a little older than a Drow child around the same age, but knowing the changes these Humans would undergo well before they reached twenty years was what struck me most. The first decade was fast growth for Drow, seeming almost to match these Human children—as if they knew they had to develop to be capable as quickly as possible—but things slowed down significantly from there.

The slow transition from puberty to the full adult took at least fifty more years, sometimes a little longer, and trying to breed one under sixty was not only pointless but distasteful as well. It was similar for the Draegloth, who I knew now to be arrested in their growth at right around that sixth decade.

During that time, whatever magic would develop in the child did so, as they learned their preferences and specialties, and they had some time to learn proficiencies before mating became another factor. The physical change was constant but minute, almost unnoticeable until it had been more than half a century.

And yet…by the time a Drow was finally ready to mate, most Humans would be ready to die, if not dead already. If my child was birthed and survived, she or he would be an eternal youth to these two young Humans, for the whole of their lives.

It gave me something to think about with how the Godblood might view Tamuril.

“They are your breed?” I asked.

Elana blushed a very bright red, and at first I thought she was angered. The next moment I saw that she wasn’t. Was that shame? Embarrassment? For what? I noted that her son seemed to loosen up and responded with a frown as well; he was no longer frozen.

“Yes, m’Lady.” The cook didn’t know what else to add to that; neither did I.

I nodded and chewed more meat.

“You sayin’ we should have a da, an’ mum a husband?” Layne said with spirit, showing some of the anger I’d thought his mother had had.

“Shh, Layne!” Elana scolded him.

I quirked my eyebrow and swallowed. “Husband?”

The Woman blinked at me with some astonishment. “You…don’ know what ’tis, m’Lady? A husband?”

I shook my head. “You are the mother, that is all I asked.”

“Not hintin’ our mum’s a bad name for having us, then?” Layne challenged while Imara shrunk somewhat behind him.


“No…” I drew the word out, confused but amused at the dynamic. Frustrated tutors and sires often spoke to Noble daughters that way, unable to actually strike them as the birth mother might.

I made eye contact with the boy; interesting to see he was so much more spirited than his silent, cowering sister. “Tell me, what is ‘bad’ in breeding new youth?”

Layne looked frustrated and looked at his mother for direction, clearly confused as I was. What was I missing…?

Sarilis’s little lesson back at the Tower returned to me, about Human “bastards” and Gavin’s upbringing, and I thought I understood. Elana had chosen her sire, or sires, but she was not the primary female to either of them. There was no agreement or partnership or inherited wealth, and other Humans considered her a drain on resources because of it, or perhaps a would-be usurper to another Woman?

I did not see it here, in that Elana earned her keep, as did her children. Not unlike a servant or a merchant.

“You…do not marry?” Elana asked me, tentatively, as if she would not be surprised if I did not respond.

“No,” I answered. “I count children through the mother. Sires come and go.”

Elana smiled just a little bit and Layne’s face softened somewhat as Imara stopped shrinking and looked more curious.

“That they do,” the mother sighed. I would have said with some regret, except that she reached out to embrace her two children, who clutched back at her as if seeking comfort.

I pursed my lips, unsure whether to think such a display of vulnerability in front of me was foolish for this Human, but watched with curiosity all the same.

“Our Lord Brom treats you as an honored guest,” Elana said to me after releasing the two youths and gesturing for them to return to their duties. “I am grateful to him that he lets us remain here to work for him. He does not seem to judge me, either.”

“Judge you?”

“For not being a wife to anyone, but having children.”

Wife…that word I knew from Cris. His queen, his mate; they had shared power, built an empire. Did that make him a ‘husband,’ then? I chewed in thought, but quickly realized I’d just finished the food before me.

“More?” she asked.


“Yes, if you please.”

“Weapons and appetite both like a man,” she seemed to tease with a smile, but placed more food in front of me—on the far side of the black and red blade—and did not ask me any further questions.


After I was well-sated, I left the busy and fire-heated kitchen but did not head toward the back exit of the inn down the second hallway, as Cris had suggested. I wanted to check on Gavin; not only to gauge him a little more after such a shift in his existence, but because he had all the bodies of the Witch Hunters, except for one living one.

I’d said as we’d dried off last night that I might have wondered about Gavin’s specific collection of items if I did not already know of his interests. Anyone looking over my possessions would learn much of my function as well. I wanted to know what the Witch Hunters carried on them before I ever spoke with a living one.

So I had asked Elana which way to the “spare” cellar. She told me of a floor panel and stairway, in the storeroom down a short hall to the left of the kitchen; her pantry and main cellar were to the right.

It meant she would have watched Cameron and Ian dragging bodies briefly through her domain. Given both her and the youths’ demeanors, I did not think they had gotten a good look at Gavin, who had likely covered himself up, or they would have had more response to my asking where he had gone.

It also said something interesting about how often they might see dead bodies “disappearing” at this inn.

I found Cameron and Ian standing inside the stone storeroom that felt—like the Tower—constructed partially belowground. The door I sought was already lifted open with wooden stairs leading down into darkness, and I heard subtle movement and shifting down below.

From the way the two young Men looked at me, I would have said that they had overheard some of my conversation with Elana and the children. They showed the respect and courtesy that their employer expected, but they were truly baffled by me, as well as quite nervous as eyes flicked at the long dagger in my fist; not drawn, but it may still seem I intended to use it.

“What is your business here, m’Lady?”

“I will see my servant,” I stated flatly.

They gave me no further challenge, just bowed their heads slightly and made a bit more room for me to pass. So “Lord Brom” had not explicitly forbid this; that was good for our getting along more easily. I did not like the idea that they could shut and bar the cellar door behind me, but felt the risk fairly low at this point, and if nothing else, it would be an opportunity to test Gavin in a way that had not come up before.

I stepped silently down the wooden stairs, which was quite a feat but unnecessary as Gavin clearly knew I was coming. If he hadn’t heard the voices—unlikely—then my aura would be flickering to his sight even before I stepped into his modest light from three carefully set lamps set on dusty shelves.

There was a fair amount of floor space available—a good thing as nine bodies were down here with the necromancer—as well as a single table upon which one of the bodies lay mostly naked. A few chairs had been shifted out of the way, and several wash basins of varying shades of liquid—from clear to red to black—lay lined up along one side with the bodies. The apprentice had quickly converted one of the many sets of shelves to a makeshift workbench upon which his tools were arranged.

Estimating how long I’d been with Cris, I realized Gavin had had enough time to prepare each of the nine bodies similarly: armor, bracers, and boots were stacked in one less convenient corner, clothes next to that. Weapons had been lined up on one standing shelf fixed to the wall, and all the other odd-shaped possessions placed upon the one next to that. That side of the room looked a little like one of the supply and armor rooms in the cloister back home.

The other side of the room showed the other eight, recently washed and naked corpses with the wash basins. I had not walked in on any active plans for the moment; this all felt like preparation.

“You’ve been busy,” Gavin said, and I blinked in surprise.

“I was about to say the same.”

“I always keep busy.”

“Why do I look so?”

He nodded to the blade in my hand. He kept his voice low, accustomed by now to me being able to hear him just fine with a mutter. “That is new… and powerful. I wager Brom would not easily part with it unless you were busy doing what you do. Though I do hope it did not involve sleight of hand, or poison and blade.”

I smiled slightly, if a bit wryly. “No, it did not.”

Although the comment did make me wonder how much time it would take for such an opening in different circumstances, ones in which the sorcerer had no interest to give me gifts. How often did the sorcerer let down his guard?

Gavin stood in deep shadow cast by the lamps; his hood was up and most of him was covered except for his pale hands, which were only lightly stained in a few streaks of blood. I was aware of the stale scent of a little-used room, but the chill was bizarre in that it seemed there had been no warm bodies in here until I arrived, even with Gavin working.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Closer to determining his interest in you?”

“A bit.”

I glanced over my shoulder toward the open door at the top of the stairs and Gavin nodded. He waited for me to speak.

“I am curious to see the Witch Hunters’ possessions,” I said a bit more loudly.

The necromancer did not seem much annoyed at being interrupted or delayed in whatever he was to do with the bodies; perhaps he had his own inquiries to make of me, although I was not sure what I would say. Like before, however, Gavin responded well to being asked to share knowledge that was not personal. It was a good place to start again with him, and it was information I needed regardless.

He beckoned to me and stepped over to the corner with the armor and weapons first; daggers of various metals, swords, clubs, and the usual bracers, shin guards, helmets, and the rest. He kept his voice low enough that I did not think the Humans above could hear him, perhaps a low drone at best.

“The most predictable and boring of the pieces, you knew these just engaging them. Although picking through their other things, I would count your choice of cover to be the best you could have done. A spell of yours, that black sphere?”

I nodded. “I told you once I did not need my eyes to fight.”

“A rare compliment between both magic and martial skills,” he commented, his tone approaching appreciation.

My eyes spotted a silver dagger, and it not only reminded me of the one on my belt, which I removed now, but also of my failure which rose afresh with a bitter sting. Gavin had said he would rather have not used whatever “talent” had brought him back in a black-eyed form, and I would not be surprised if he harbored some grudge or resentment.

I did not really want to continue as if nothing had happened without bringing it up myself, even if Gavin not only seemed his usual self but also…motivated. Perhaps in the end, it was a means to get to where he wanted to be, but I would not assume that if it meant my only ally was no longer an ally.

I looked over at Gavin and lifted the silver dagger that had once been buried in his chest. It was flat in my gloved palm, naked but non-threatening. Still, he regarded it with an entirely closed face even as I sensed him tense.

I added that silver dagger to the rest of the Witch Hunter weapons as I spoke. “It was our agreement I would do what I could to defend you against physical attacks, as you have for me against magical. I…regret failing to stop them, Gavin.”

He quirked a black eyebrow and shrugged very slightly. “There were quite a few of them for only one of you, and in a small space,” he said, all reason without emotion. “Prevention may have been the only chance to succeed there.”

I pursed my lips. “Do you imply some curiosity on your part exactly where I was, that prevention was not an option?”

“If you bring it up,” he said blandly.

At my hesitation, Gavin let out a quiet breath, his new, blue and black eyes quite eerie in the dim lamplight. “I remember getting up to lock the door behind you as you left but then returned to sleep. I admit I did not hear them until they began throwing themselves against the door. I’d foolishly left my spell components with my robe to dry. A strike with my spade after they shattered the wood was all I could manage.”

“Troubling dreams, then?” I asked. “They must have continued after I left.”

“They always do. I wonder at my need for sleep when it is never restful.”

I could see that; he often looked tired and irritable even as he constantly worked. “Brom said he could tell when you stopped suppressing your aura in your sleep, but he did not mention it to me until he knew the Witch Hunters had left their rooms for ours.”

Gavin’s mouth twitched a little in thought. “Suggesting a test from Brom. You left abruptly to catch up to them.”

I nodded. “Though I had to threaten him with the black vial first.”

“Ah. So that’s how he knew. Amusing to imagine. You are saying, then, that the innkeeper kept you, and that was why you were too late to keep them from breaking in to capture me.”

I hated hearing it spoken like that…yet it was true. My confusion and hesitations when near the sorcerer, and my wariness of his connection to my race, would not help in anticipating any fight coming from other directions. That was proven.

I nodded once, displeased that I could not really tell if I was offering a reason or an excuse. Part of it depended on how the necromancer took it. I had chosen to leave Brom and come help him, for whatever that was worth, But Gavin did not even need to believe that.

He pondered in silence for a while and I let him be as I waited for him to respond. He did eventually after staring off into the shadows for a while.

“What did Brom want? I can’t imagine you discovered nothing.”

“He offered a paid task first,” I said. “To convince the rest of you to cull a group of cannibals just north of here.”

“Odd that he did not make the offer to Kurn, as our brave leader.”

I smirked at the irony in his tone, but sighed. “Indeed. It was his way of convincing me that he did not think me a ‘whore.’ He wanted to bed me, but offered a different task first along with conversation before making his real motive clear.”

Gavin’s expression was slanted, but after a moment he nodded. “I might imagine you are quite attractive to those with enough power to fear very little. What was your answer?”

I shrugged. “I thought it a good thing to have an ally at this inn, a sanctuary should we need it coming back from Manalar. I agreed.”

The necromancer seemed to find some amusement in that. “We?”

“Yes. You and I returning to your false master’s Tower.”

“Indeed. So you were coupling as the Witch Hunters plotted. Sounds very pleasant.”

I frowned at him. “Then tell me why I would need to threaten Brom to let me come to your aid?”

It did not take him long. “I figure because in your intimacy, you discovered just how powerful he is. Was it his idea?”


“You unmasked him?”

I nodded, feeling tension come into my shoulders again.

“Mm-hm,” he mused. “And by your expression, I might guess that, unlike with Kurn, he was the one in control of your encounter.”

I exhaled but nodded again.

“Interesting to witness some limits, Sirana. If you are admitting this to ask me where I stand, then I still consider us allies despite my death. Indeed, it has brought me closer to my Patroness, and even those of the Greylands can express gratitude. She told me it was not simple luck that you thought to remove the silver dagger from my heart. You saw her, even for the briefest of moments, and understood.”

His smile did not show his black teeth but still seemed otherworldly in the deep shadow of his hood.

I felt that chill up my spine again. “Gavin…who exactly is your ‘Patroness’?”

Gavin tilted his head in thought. “What do you know of the Greylands?”

I shook my head. “Only that you and Sarilis and Brom consider it a place of power that has some clear effect on skewing your natural longevity.”

“Curious description. Anyone I know would refer to it as the spirit world.”

“There is no such place in my race’s lore.”

“Interesting. There are no stories where your consciousness or your life force exists beyond your body?”

“No. We live long already and practice no necromancy. There are other planes of existence…the Abyss, for example, but they are…out.” I shrugged. “I was thinking the Greylands as the same.”

“Not too far, I suppose,” he mused. “More that it is the natural pathway through which souls migrate. Like a bridge between ours and the various other planes. One does not have to take the bridge to cross a river, but it is often the more chosen and easier path.”

As when he’d spoken of the Godblood, I listened with a strong degree of fascination as he continued.

“One’s body or soul can enter the Greylands and return out, though not easily. The Lords of the Greylands have made pacts over the millennia with deities to help their followers, to guide their souls to those other planes. But not all races have such a pact. I would have to assume Elves do not, as I’ve seen nothing to suggest they have anything to do with the Greylands. I suppose I might learn more if I were to see one die.”

I blinked with an unwelcome discomfort at that last comment, though I had to remind myself to consider the source. At Court, or with Shyntre at one time, I would have taken that as threat and intent; it would have meant that the speaker indeed still held a grudge and might try to make it happen.

In Gavin…it seemed more simple, academic curiosity. He might not seek my death specifically to answer that puzzle, but he would not let the opportunity go to waste should an Elf die near him, regardless whether it was me or not.

I had begun to believe it was important that I grasp these distinctions between mages. More recently, I was being introduced to the life magic, such as Tamuril’s and Auslan’s, and the death magic that was Sarilis, Gavin, and his mistress.

I needed to understand to accomplish my own mission, and Gavin’s frightening yet non-threatening comment was just further evidence that we were not that different at times. Certainly it offered reason never to underestimate a necromancer, just for what they might like to discover about one’s body and essence when one wasn’t breathing anymore….surely that was as horrible a fate as the Driders?

I nodded slowly, pondering the rest. “Power exchange. That is how some deities gain their power.”

“And maintain it,” he added. “Most, if not all. The Grey Lords are merchants in trade for that power.”

“And your Patroness?”

“She is called the Grey Maiden, and she is one of those Lords.”

“And she offers to teach you more than Sarilis.”

“She taught me long before Sarilis,” he corrected. “Led me to the Tower over time.”

“Which you still want.”


“What does she want?”

Gavin paused. “Faithful service.”

Of course she did. I gave him one of his own skeptical expressions back at him.

“Her motives are not entirely clear,” he granted. “I cannot even begin to understand the mentality of one that has existed as long as she has, any more than I can fully grasp the mind and motives of a Drow assassin.”

That was nice to hear if only for the fact that Gavin did not like intrigue all that much, so he was not trying to flatter me.

He also had a point. This “Grey Maiden” did not sound to be doing anything that Lolth did not do as well…except perhaps for bringing followers back from the dead.

“What does she think of this journey you are on?” I asked. “It was Sarilis’s idea, you did not want to go.”

Gavin lifted his chin a bit and looked upward for a moment. “She is for it. And given your goal to destroy the old goat for your queen, so am I. Though I still recall that you search for more of your—”

I hissed, “Shh!”

I hesitated, glanced back toward where Brom’s men would be, before leaning close to whisper near his face. I noted his scent had diminished, and it was not my imagination; the apprentice was just not giving off as much body heat as he used to, nor was he perspiring.

“Brom can’t know there are other Drow on the Surface, and he can’t know I carry a child, either. Do not be careless with what you know, do not think about it around him if you still wish to protect our agreement to gain you your Tower.”

He blinked slowly, nonplussed. “I am aware he can glean surface thoughts from the others if he wishes. My connection to the grave affords some small protection as my mind is often wandering in whispers that others either cannot hear or cannot make sense of.” He tilted his head. “And you somehow coupled with him without that particular latter thought coming up even once?”

My face hardened. “I have been trained to be resistant.”

Maybe. Although given how it had been a major fear and did indeed come up often…I had to suppose whatever psionic “noise” had protected me from D’Shea before and from the Valsharess finding that secret now also protected me from Cris-ri-phon. I could only consider myself exceedingly lucky.

Was this the very reason why Auslan had said in his vision that it was necessary that I catch before going to the Surface? That it would somehow help me survive? I would not breed a half-blood of my own by this former consort of the Drow, but…no, that did not seem enough. If I did return to the Underdark, the queen would only spare me until I birthed the full-blood and then very well might execute me for treason, for my knowing that she had only come to power by doing what we all had been forbidden to do.

Cris’s fertility alone can’t have been the reason for Auslan’s vision.

“Impressive,” Gavin commented. “Care to offer a bit more reason why we should keep the sorcerer in the dark?”

The burden of that knowledge was such that, at first, I did not know where to start…but I knew that he would be content with something true, even if it was not the whole, just as I did not know the whole of his own history or future.

“He has been searching for Drow for many years,” I said. “He is old enough to remember us and the Noldor once being more common.”

Gavin blinked his pale blue eyes but nodded without saying anything at first as he pondered. I was familiar enough with the expression that I could well guess; the apprentice had seen enough in the sorcerer’s aura to somehow support such a claim.

“What does he intend to do now that he has found one?” he asked.

I shook my head. “He has not made it clear. He hints that he will release me, but I do not know when nor what he wants from me before he does.”

“And if he is willing to release one of us but not both?”

“I will not stay,” I whispered with more vehemence than I would have thought wise. “And I must leave before he senses my unborn.”

Gavin nodded.

“And you would not stay, yes?” I asked. “You have a mistress and a goal, you would not be tempted by him.”


I felt better that he said this with such calm certainty. The “Grey Maiden” did have prior claim on him and he would not turn his back on her easily. He need not have any bond to me beyond the shared goal, but knowing where his true loyalty lay—and that it was strong—was just as valuable to me.

Gavin motioned toward my right hand, which still held a quiet Soul Drinker. The blade was not between us, but on the outside, and that was probably a good thing.

“This is likely part of his reasoning, Sirana. If you did not steal it or kill him for it, then he gave it to you.”

I shook my head. “More offered me the opportunity to pick it up. He says it was made my by race a long time ago.”

“I might believe that. It has an aura almost like a living body, though not quite.”

“He said it had gained some sentience due to the magic.”

“Not unheard of, if exceedingly rare. Quite the relic you have.” Gavin tilted his head curiously. “Have you drawn it?”

I shook my head. “No. I am…wary to do so.”

Gavin grunted. “But you picked it up. That means you will eventually.”

I didn’t reply, but lifted up and forward to hold with both hands. My eyes trailed down the red curves and edgings that wasn’t script but seemed to imply one. In my dreams, the scarlet runes had been on the bright metal blade itself, glowing low in threat.

*Odd that it would be bright metal that would flash and reflect the light,* I thought. All of my Underdark blades were matte black so as not to give myself away by bouncing any light at all.

Crystal, Nicole, and Joey were motionless as they heard the shrill feminine voice calling for permission to come on to their yacht. Joey had just fucked his sisters senseless, and evidence of that was all over. Joey was propped up on his elbows, completely naked; his 8 inch member sticking obscenely straight up, glistening with the combined juices of his twin sisters. Nicole was sprawled on her back, also completely naked. Her flimsy white bikini had long ago been tossed aside. Her breasts were rosy pink from the attention they had received and her bald pussy was swollen with Joey’s cum still slipping down the soft skin onto the padded bench below. Crystal looked down to take stock of her own situation, which didn’t seem as bad. Her light blue bikini top had been folded down at some point to expose most of her breasts. Her bottoms were quite askew, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed quickly. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, removing the semen that Nicole hadn’t gotten to, and set her bikini to rights before getting up.

“Oh fuck, who could that be?” Crystal’s voice quavered with concern. They were anchored off a relatively remote island. Not that anyone else never went there, but who would be approaching their boat, asking to come aboard so late? “Come on, get up and get dressed! We need to clean up before we get caught!”

“Get caught doing what?” Nicole slurred a little. Crystal realized that her sister was much more intoxicated than she was. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, we’re all adults.”

“This is incest you idiot! Come on, get up!”

The voice below called up again as Crystal quickly organized her thoughts.

“Ok, I’ll go see what they want. Obviously, they can’t know that you are our brother. Joey, we met you at a college recruiting event that you are in town for. You go to University of Florida. You are not our brother!”

As her siblings started to stir, Crystal rushed down the stairs to the main deck. Her mind was spinning as she lept down the spiral staircase. She had just gone down on her twin sister, gotten fucked by her older brother, and then sucked him to completion right out of Nicole’s pussy. She was going to need some serious thinking time if she was going to stay out of therapy. But then on top of all that, someone was tying up alongside their boat, asking to come aboard? It was just too much for her to take in!

She shot out the sliding glass doors to the deck that adjoined the living/dining room on the main deck. Hands planted firmly on the wooden rail, she leaned out, peering into the dusk. A few yards away a small wakeboarding boat was bobbing on the small swell, waves that barely affected the Maretto Yacht.

“Yoo-hoooooo!” A shrill voice called, that Crystal suddenly recognized. “Can we come aboard, Captain?”

Oh my god, thought Crystal. That can only be Ashley! Ashley Christianson was a former cheerleader from Crystal and Nicole’s high school squad. She had graduated with them, though just barely, and was now headed to, well…Crystal didn’t really know where. She couldn’t imagine she got into any college; she had graduated with a C average. The girls had never been very good friends with Ashley, more like acquaintances. She was part of the “in crowd” that the girls rarely spent time with; though they knew that she was basically just tolerated in that crowd. Her shrill voice and constant talking didn’t help, but it was really her sluttiness that alienated her from the rest of the girls. Word was that her bedpost notches were over 100, though that was hard for Crystal to believe. She did know that Ashley had slept through about half the baseball team, 3 of them in one sitting.

“Ashley? Is that you?”

“Ha! I knew this was your boat! Sounds like some good times are happening aboard. Hahaha. Can we board?”

Crystal knew that she couldn’t turn her away, that would seem suspicious, and probably have Ashley talking more anyway. Her alcohol clouded mind couldn’t come to any other conclusion than to let her aboard.

“Um, uhh, ya I guess. Pull up alongside. Wait, let me get the bumpers.”

Crystal’s boat training managed to push past the drunk shroud and she rushed to find the side bumpers. After hanging three over the side, she watched as the smaller boat slowly moved into position. With a gentle sigh, it squeezed up next to the yacht. A stern and bow line were tossed aboard and before Crystal could even grab one, a tall blond man jumped on deck and grabbed one.

“Pull that one tight,” he said, somewhat urgently.

They both pulled the lines tight and secured them, leaving the two boats gently rocking alongside each other. Crystal skimmed through her memory of the boating regulations she had to learn for the license to try to remember if it was ok to leave boats tied up like this. Before she could come to a conclusion, Ashley climbed aboard, not without some commotion.

A small hand grasped the rail tightly as Ashley heaved herself up with one hand.

“Damnit, Roger, help me!” She yelled. “Pull me up, I can’t…make it…help me…to deck.”

She huffed that fragmented sentence as Roger, who was apparently the blond guy, reached over and pulled her up. Crystal took in her acquaintance as she stood on the deck. Ashley was a petite girl; 5’3″, 107lbs. Crystal was very familiar with her measurements since she had been the flyer on the squad; the girl that gets thrown in the air. Her normally perfect bleached hair was pulled into a messy pony tail and she seemed to be missing her usual layers of makeup, leading Crystal to assume she had been swimming at some point that day. The bikini was something to behold. Crystal knew that she and her sister wore skimpy bikinis, but liked to think it was done in a classy manner. Ashley had a cheap looking, triangle top bikini on. The top was the adjustable type, and she had it cinched in until it was basically two strips, just barely covering her nipple. Plenty of her small boobs were visible on either side. The bottom was clearly designed to just barely cover her cooch, and was covered in a see through sarong. She clutched a Mike’s Hard Lemonade in her left hand, which had made it so difficult to climb aboard.

“Nicole!!” She screeched as she launched into a hug. “It’s so great to see you! It’s been, like, a month!”

“Hey Ash. I’m actually Crystal. It has been a while.” Crystal tried to disengage without getting the lemonade spilled on her. It was clear that Ashley was at least as drunk as she was.

“Well, who can ever tell you apart?” Crystal ignored that. “So this is the famous yacht, eh? It’s gorgeous! I can’t wait to see it! But first, sounded like you and your guests were already having quite a party. I could hear that orgy across the lake!”

“What? No! It wasn’t, I mean. Well, we hadn’t…”

“Haha, its fine. You know I’m not judging.” Ashley winked. “Well, are you going to stand here all night?”

So Crystal, not sure what else to do, let Ashley and Roger (whom still hadn’t been formally introduced) through the main deck and up the stairs. To her great relief, things looked somewhat normal up there. Nicole and Joey had put their suits back on and were settled into the tub. Nicole was low enough that you couldn’t tell her top was transparent.

“Nicole, look who I found. It’s Ashley!” Crystal announced, almost as a warning.

“Holy shit, this is awesome!” Ashley’s eyes roamed across the oversized hot tub, the built-in bar, the flying cockpit, and then back to the two occupants of the hot tub. “Oh, and this is Roger. He works for my dad.” Roger gave a little nod and mumbled something. He clearly wasn’t the brightest.

“And this is Joey,” Nicole introduced their brother. “We know him through college recruiting. He goes to Florida State.”

“University of Florida,” Joey corrected.

“Well, looks like you are quite the recruiter,” Ashley winked at him. Eyeing the bottle of Scotch sitting out, “Do you have anything else to drink?”

Since her two siblings were in the hot tub, and Crystal realized that for Nicole to get out, she would reveal her transparent bikini, she volunteered to grab some other refreshments. To make things simple, she just grabbed a case of beer and brought it up to the fly deck. When she got back, she found the two guests had made themselves at home in the hot tub. As she passed around beers, Joey was finishing up the story of how they had all “met”.

“…ya, so we talked a while at the booth. And since I don’t know the area, they offered to show me where I could get some good grub. Then they invited me out here, and we’ve been hanging out since then.”

Crystal slipped into the tub next to her sister. She sipped the cold beer and could feel herself getting a little light headed as the alcohol she had already consumed was accelerated by the heat of the water. The twins were sharing one side, while Joey was on an adjacent side. Ashley was perched on Roger’s lap opposite the girls.

“Ok, but someone was definitely doin the nasty,” Ashley said with a grin. “We could hear that quite a ways off.”

No one said anything for a second, but Ashley saw both girls glance very quickly at each other, and detected a hint of nervousness. The wheels started turning and a big grin spread across her face.

“Oh. My. God.” Paris Hilton seemed to be a prime influence in Ashley’s life. “He did both of you, didn’t he! Joey, did you fuck both these hot little bitches?”

Joey’s face went even redder than the drink and heat could make it. “What, no! It wasn’t…of course not!” He glanced at his sisters with panic in his eyes, clearly unsure of how to handle this. Nicole was less inhibited than Crystal under normal circumstances, but particularly when she had been drinking more. And Crystal herself was feeling the effects much more than she had even a few minutes ago.

“Guess we’re busted,” Nicole said. “We both liked him; I mean he’s a hot guy. So we didn’t want to choose who got him. I mean, we’re twins, we know how to share!” She put her arm around Crystal, who pitched in.

“Ya, we share everything anyway. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked enough times.”

“Wow, that is so hot!” Ashley was practically squealing. She was constantly walking around the locker room in her birthday suit, so the girls knew that her smaller breasts sported relatively large nipples. They could now see those, prominently pressing at the small triangles covering them. “But isn’t that, like, incest? I mean, you guys are sister!”

“No! Not at all!” Crystal protested, thinking if only you knew. “It’s not like we did anything to each other!”

She jumped as she felt Nicole’s hand, hidden by the bubbles, grasp her thigh tightly. She tried to cover it by taking a long drink from the beer in her hand, finishing it off. Her twins hand worked its way up her thigh and just reached her pussy, brushing against it lightly, when Crystal lunged to the side to grab another beer. She looked at Ashley, who was still digesting everything and didn’t seem to notice.

“Man, so, Joey, lucky you! That’s, like, every guys dream! I bet Roger here would welcome a chance with two hot twins, wouldn’t you, baby?” Roger nodded vigorously with a “Hell ya”, earning himself a playful punch. Crystal doubted they were an exclusive couple. “So what was it like? I mean, I know they look the same, but do they feel the same?”

“Well, no, I don’t know. Of course they were different,” Joey stammered, the red flush fading as the color drained from his face. Crystal realized how uncomfortable this must be for him, having a discussion about sleeping with his sisters with two perfect strangers.

“Do you think you could tell them apart?” Ashley asked coyly. “You know, by just being inside them? If you were, like, blindfolded or something.” After letting Joey emit a few nonsensical stammers, she issued the challenge that Crystal somehow knew was coming. “I bet you couldn’t. I bet, if you were blindfolded and fucked them both right now, you couldn’t tell the difference.”

Crystal had always enjoyed showing off the fact that she had a great body. But she never considered herself much of an exhibitionist. Aside from what had happened with her sister present, that day and in the past, she had never done anything sexual in front of a third party. Yet the thought of getting pounded once again by Joey in front of Ashley and some guy she had just met was a huge turn on. She felt her pussy tingle as she worked through her next beer, slowly catching up with her sister.

Thought apparently she had a little more drinking to do before catching all the way up.

“I’m down!” Nicole stated, slurring her words a bit. She stood up, her well saturated white bikini clearly showing her magnificent tits. “Sounds like some fun.”

“Nicole!” Crystal said sternly, shocked at her acceptance of this crazy situation and even crazier plan. Joey just sat, somewhat flabbergasted. “You can’t be serious!”

“Sure, why not! Joey, I’m sure you are ready for another round. You can’t say you didn’t like it before.” She leaned over to him and reached her hand under the bubbles, clearly finding his hard on. “Crystal, what do you say? You want to have some fun?”

Crystal wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was increasingly light headed, and now she suspected it was more than just the alcohol that was causing it. “I don’t know, this is all a bit much.”

“Comeon, sis!” Nicole leaned in close, resting her beer and one hand on the side of the tub, with her other on the submerged bench Crystal was sitting on to steady herself.

“I really want this, I’m so horny!” She whispered in her sister’s ear. “And I have a feeling that you are too.” Nicole’s hand moved to between Crystal’s legs and she gently cupped her pussy before moving the fabric to the side and sliding a finger inside her twin.

“Oh my god, what the fuck. Let’s do it!”



Girlish squeals of delight seemed to be all around as Joey sat silently. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to do this, his cock was painfully hard. But was he really going to fuck his twin sisters again, in front of two strangers?

“Ok, I guess. It will be a little weird with two people watching though,” Joey stammered, half-heartedly looking for a way out.

“Well, what if only one person watched?” Ashley asked innocently. “Roger, do you want to accept the challenge too? Think about it! If both guys do it, you can see who can guess correctly. Besides, than no one is left out.”

“That sounds pretty hot,” Nicole said. “But you will still be left out.”

“I’ll be fine watching, trust me.”

“Man, didn’t know you were such a perv,” Nicole teased the smaller girl.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Ashley said with an almost evil grin.

Crystal wasn’t sure about letting this guy fuck her. But she was horny, especially given everything that had already happened. She was also quite drunk by now. This is already beyond insane, and I’ll probably regret it tomorrow. But what the hell, might as well do it up right.

“Ok, as long as he is up to the challenge,” Crystal tried to sound confident.

“Oh, I think I’ll do just fine.”

“Ohmygod, this is going to be so sexy!” Ashley sprang into action. “We’re going to need some blind folds for the guys. Let’s see, I think your tops will work just fine. Comeon, hand them over! Ok, here are the rules.” Ashley made the rules up as she blindfolded the two guys with the minimal material afforded her by the skimpy bikini tops. “You’ll get 6 minutes with each girl, I’ll give the word for when to switch. No peeking, of course, and no touching. Other than your dicks, obviously. Girls, you will have to stay bend over the side there, I’ll arrange you once these blindfolds are complete so they don’t know where you are. No touching for you guys either, and no making any sounds. Nothing that could identify you. Got it?”

Ashley ended up having to use her sarong in addition to Nicole’s top to adequately blindfold Joey. She did manage to effectively shutter Roger’s eyes using Crystal’s top.

“Ok, de-robe everyone!” Ashley announced. The girls were suddenly naked, standing in the hot tub of their father’s yacht. They watched the boys pull their shorts down. Both were already extremely hard, though it was clear that Joey had at least two inches on Roger. Ashley whistled before turning back to the girls. She repositioned them, causing lots of commotion presumably to try to confuse the guys. Nicole bent over the side quickly, clearly excited. Crystal was a little more apprehensive and was about to voice her concerns when Ashley reminded her that she had to stay silent lest she give herself away. A hand on her back encouraged her to bend over, and Crystal found herself sticking her naked ass out to her brother and a guy she had just met. Her elbows rested on the vinyl cover of the padded platform and she let her head droop down. She felt a hand on hers and looked up to see her sister smiling at her, squeezing her hand. Although no words were allowed, Crystal knew that Nicole was saying loosen up, this is gonna be fun! She returned her forehead to the pad and decided to not look at who was going to take her first.

Crystal found her hands had balled up into tight fists. It felt like she had been waiting for hours, bent over naked, but it had really been just a few seconds while Ashley had arranged the guys. Eyes squeezed shut tight, Crystal let out a silent gasp when she felt the hand on her wet pussy. The fingers were so slim and delicate she knew it had to be Ashley. The inquisitive fingers gently brushed over her bald lips before pulling one aside. That alone was nearly enough to set Crystal off, but the cock that thrust in next took her the rest of the way. She came almost right away. The teasing, the anticipation, Nicole’s fingers, and the exhibitionist excitement that was coursing through her body needed just the pressure of a cock to set her off. She struggled to keep it silent. Only when she came down for the orgasm did she realize that it must be Roger inside her. Although he was thrusting hard, he was no were near as big as Joey.

Crystal expected to be a little disappointed with the lack of size. She had just recently been filled to the brim by her brother’s massive dong. Although Roger was average, not small or anything, it paled in comparison. That is, until he started really working it. He clearly had more experience than Joey, and the effects on Crystal were incredible. She stifled a groan as her pussy, which was always much more sensitive after an orgasm, absorbed the amazing sensations. His dick was touching every part of her insides, and more. It felt as if he were somehow moving it in a figure eight. Unbelievably, she felt another orgasm approaching when suddenly Ashley yelled “Time!” and Roger pulled out of her.

She looked over her shoulder to see a somewhat comical scene. Roger and Joey, both blindfolded and fully erect, were frozen, clearly terrified of bumping into each other. Ashley came to the rescue and got them into place. A sharp gasp told Crystal that Roger had just entered her sister. She wondered how he felt, replacing Joey’s larger member. She didn’t have wonder long. Looking over her shoulder, Ashley’s small hand made his dick look even bigger as she guided him forward. Dripping wet and needing no help from Ashley this time, Crystal pushed her face into the cushion and steeled herself for the invasion.

Her mind exploded as her brother’s massive cock pulled her apart, threatening to rip her at the seams, as he pushed all the way into her in one thrust. He stayed there, bottomed out, for a moment before pulling back out and starting his slow, powerful thrusts. True, he didn’t maneuver quite as expertly as Roger, but there was no replacement for sheer mass. She bit her lip in ecstasy as he slid in and out of her. Turning her head, she saw Nicole, propped up on her elbows with her back arched and her bit tits swinging below her, as Roger worked his magic on her. Behind her, Crystal could make out Ashley through the steam of the tub, sitting on the edge, furiously rubbing her own pussy as she watched the twins get pounded.


I knew by the look on his face, by the way he looked at me, that something had changed. I could tell that he had been with another woman; he had been unfaithful. It was time to let him know that that was unacceptable behavior.

“A weekend getaway,” I proposed. “It might be just what we need.” He seemed less than pleased. He had already left me in his mind. That might be true, but I was determined that he wouldn’t forget me as well.

I had rented a cabin for us, deep in the woods, away from the rest of the world; far enough away that no one would hear him scream. As we walked through the doorway of our retreat, I was pleased to see that all the arrangements that I had requested had been fulfilled. I smiled when I realized how well the caretaker would be compensated.

It seemed to be a harmless scene until one looked closer. Did he see the hooks embedded in the ceiling rafters? Did he realize the coiled whip hanging on the wall was not for decoration? I took all of this in as he brought in the luggage.

The first step, I thought to myself, was to make him relax. His favorite liquor was set out on the bar. I poured him one drink and then another. I sent him into the bathroom to clean up and to give myself time to prep for him. I pulled a length of rope from my bag. Grabbing a chair from the kitchen, I climbed up and rigged the rope through the hooks.

When he came out of the bathroom, fully dressed once more, he looked up and gave me a shrug. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the kink. It’s just that this was our same old kink. What used to excite him had now turned vanilla. I hoped to renew his interest.

“You brought me all the way up here for this?” he asked.

“Humor me.”

I walked behind him and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. As it slid to the floor, my hands played across his chest. I could feel his heart beat quicken as I pinched his nipples. Perhaps I had not entirely lost my touch.

First I tied his wrists together and then tied the rope to the hooks. It raised his heels slightly off the floor. Our eyes met when my hands went to his waistband. Without breaking eye contact, I unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly. I saw his cock twitch when it hit the open air. I went down to my knees and began to suck it. I popped the head in and out of my mouth softly. His moan told me I that I was headed in the right direction. With his balls in my hand, my mouth went further and further down the shaft until my nose bumped his stomach. Fighting my gag reflex, I stayed there. Of course, I stopped before allowing him to cum. There was still the matter of his infidelity to address. This was not going to be easy on him.

Getting off my knees, I walked over to the whip and took it off the wall. I could feel his eyes following me. A whip was definitely not vanilla for us and his eyes widened. This gave him his first clue that something big was in store for him.

“OK, enough of the games.”

“Games? Do you think I would go through all of this trouble for a game?” I paused. “I know.”

“You know? What do you think you know?” I could sense a bit of unease creeping into his voice.

I whispered to him, “I know about her.” Caught in his lies, he hung his head.

Before he could start spinning a defense, the whip came down across his back. I had been practicing and I knew by the way his body played, that my time had not been wasted. He groaned as he struggled to regain his tenuous footing. The look in his eyes, though, told me that I still had a long way to go before I had broken him.

The whip came down again…hard. A thin line of blood appeared across his back. He arched and swung from the hook. He had begun panting and he whispered my name. Until I had him pleading, I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

“Shut up,” I commanded. “When I want you to talk, I’ll let you know.”

Obviously he hadn’t learned his lesson because he opened his mouth again. Again, the whip came down and broke his skin; over and over. He seemed to give up quickly but I knew he could take much more that I had given him. With a kick, I spun him around to face me. I brought the whip down across his chest. I switched my stance and branded an X across his body. The whip wrapped around him and bit into his back. I moved down and began working over his stomach; from the left and then from the right. The blood was beginning to flow. His moaning only got louder when I picked up the bottle of liquor and poured it over his fresh wounds.

I realized I was working up a sweat. As I pulled off my sweater, his eyes remained down. “Look at me,” I said. When his eyes met mine, I unhooked my bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes followed. I lifted his chin so that I could look him in the eye. “I hope you understand that this is the last time. I promise you, after tonight, you will never fuck another woman.”

I could tell he still had a bit of fight left in him by the way he was struggling against the restraints. He thought he still had a chance of talking his way out of this. As his mouth opened, I slapped it shut again. “Your mouth is such a bother to me,” I said as I peeled off my jeans and sweaty panties. Walking into the kitchen, I returned with a roll of duct tape. I ripped a piece off and pasted it across his mouth. There was a knock on the door and he jerked his head in that direction.

“Oh yes,” I said. “I know you’ve had worse. I realize that I’m not man enough for you. Luckily this place comes with a caretaker.” I opened the door and in walked my new friend. He was easily six feet tall, closer to six and a half. He had played football for many years and had retained his physique, wearing his 275 pounds well. He ducked his head when he stepped over the threshold.

“Am I too early?” he asked. “I couldn’t wait any longer,” and he rubbed the crotch of his pants.

It seemed to dawn on my pet that the caretaker would be taking over for me. He struggled, gauging the rope and hook, hoping he could get himself free.

“My poor, sweet idiot,” I laughed. “You’re always so cock sure of yourself, aren’t you?” He shook his head and mumbled through the tape. I patted his face to placate him. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your turn to talk.”

Turning to the caretaker, I said, “Go ahead. Make yourself comfortable.”

He began to strip, avidly looking at the naked man. He was grinning and licking his big lips. He was a brutal looking fellow. His arms, legs, and chest were strong and muscular but not the least of his body was the impressive size of his genitals. His balls hung low and were the size of small lemons surrounded by a thick patch of bristly, black hair. What got my attention the most was his long, thick, black monster cock jutting out at rigid attention.

I picked up the whip again. The bleeding of Pet’s chest had stopped so I first re-opened those wounds: first his chest and then his stomach. When he realized I was moving lower, he twisted his body away from me.

“Caretaker, can you help me?”

Now completely naked, he approached my pet. With a smile on his face, he grabbed Pet’s hips and slowly turned him to face me again. The whip met with virgin territory and cut his flesh just below his pubic hair line. While that certainly got his attention, there was no way out for him since Caretaker held him firmly. The whip cut lower-an inch above the base of his cock. One more flick of my wrist and his cock jumped. It began to bleed immediately.

I met Caretaker’s gaze and nodded my consent. He spun Pet around and dropped to his knees. He began to suck Pet’s cock-to lick the blood away before it fell to the floor. He started to get greedy and I had to push him away.

“Not yet,” I said.

He looked disappointed but by then we all knew who was in charge. He got up from the floor but retained his grip on Pet’s waist. Again and again the whip broke skin. Pet’s cock was bleeding more profusely now; blood pooling on the floor as he cried pitifully.

“Don’t worry, sissy. You get to keep your cock. Although by the end of the night, you may never want to use it again. How many times do we have to go through this?”

He looked at me questioningly.

“You have a problem staying faithful.” I drew my right hand back and slapped his face as hard as I could. It felt so good to punish him that I drew my back hand across his face as well. I took his jaw in my hand to make sure I had his undivided attention. “Now you get to talk.”

I ripped the tape from his mouth and ignored his moan.

“Repeat after me. For my disobedience, for my lack of control, I deserve to be punished.”

Tearfully and through stifled sobs he began, “For…for my disobedience,” and he paused. The whip sang through the air and a line of blood sprang from his cock again. He screamed.

“For my disobedience, for my lack of control, I deserve to be punished.”

“Say it again, bitch, louder!”

“For my disobedience, for my lack of control, I deserve to be punished.” The last was whispered and he hung his head, beaten.

I looked at Caretaker. “Take him down now. He’s yours.” The caretaker took a knife from the counter and cut the ropes that suspended Pet, who fell to the floor.

He gave an excited grin and moved forward.

“Wait,” I said as I dropped to my knees beside my pet. “Are you paying attention? Today you lose your manhood. I’m going to make sure that you are never interested in another woman again.”

“Caretaker, I want you to make sure that our pet here becomes skilled at properly pleasing his lovers.”

“Are you watching, Pet? I hope so because you will be tested very soon.”

With that, I leaned forward and took the caretaker’s massive cock into my mouth. I started licking the bulbous tip, slowly allowing a bit of the muscle into my mouth, wetting it and sucking it as I slowly moved forward. My eyes started to water and I backed off. Looking up at him, I said, “You may need to help me.”

He looked questioningly at me and I gestured for him to put his hands on the back of my head, nodding devilishly. He put his hands there and began to pull my mouth onto his huge cock, closing his eyes in pleasure. More of his cock was buried in my mouth as I began sucking again, moaning softly. My mouth was soft and wet and hot as Caretaker felt the tip of his cock enter my throat. He pulled back a bit as I looked up into his eyes and nodded. Understanding me, he pulled on me as he pushed forward once more, forcefully, beginning to bury more of his cock into my throat. Deeper and deeper he went. Every time he pulled, more of his cock was buried in my throat. With a cry he pushed the entire length of himself into me. He could feel me buck against it and felt me gag. He held his cock all the way down my throat. His eyes were closed in ecstasy as he came in my mouth. I pulled back and took a minute to catch my breath.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied.

“Would you like more?” I asked him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Pet, were you watching?” He looked to the floor and slowly nodded his head.

“Good! Excellent! Caretaker, Pet, here, will show us what he has learned.” His eyes widened and a look of horror crossed his face as he fully understood what was asked of him. The caretaker licked his big lips.

“You had better have watched closely, Pet, because if you don’t do a VERY good job, it will not go well for you.” “Caretaker, you will settle for nothing less that complete satisfaction. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wicked grin on his broad face. He moved forward toward Pet with his large, black cock eagerly twitching and with strings of pre-cum dripping from the head, oozing in a thin stream toward the floor.

“Alright, my pet. Show us what you’ve learned.”

The caretaker placed the dark purple head of his cock against Pet’s lips. Pet turned his face to the side.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. That will never do.” I picked up my whip and gave him several lashing blows across his shoulders and naked ass. Small beads of blood welled up on his buttocks. “Now,” I said, “let’s try this again.” With a small nod, I motioned Caretaker forward again. Once again, his cock was at Pet’s lips. Reluctantly he opened his mouth, his face filled with disgust. Slowly but ever so surely, Caretaker began to shove the length of his cock down Pet’s throat.

“Take it, bitch!” I yelled at him. “Take all of it. Show me how badly you want it.” I took the knife and sliced the bindings from his wrists. I pulled them around back to Caretaker’s ass. “Grab it, my little pet. Show me some enthusiasm. Pull him into you.”

Inch by inch Caretaker’s cock was disappearing into Pet’s unwilling mouth. He was turning him into a bona fide cock sucker. He gave me a questioning look and I nodded. He put his hands on the back of Pet’s head and began to force himself further. He was gaining on the virgin mouth and throat at the end of his cock. Pet was moaning and struggling, gagging as the cock pushed relentlessly deeper. I picked up the whip again and slashed his ass. Tears were streaming down his face and he was slobbering.

“Take it, bitch! You know you want it. Show me that you love it. Show momma that you can do this. You’re such a good cock sucker.”

The caretaker was getting into it now as he advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated, getting into Pet’s throat further with every thrust. He was being violated completely and as the cock invaded him, I continued to work his ass over with my whip. With an excited grunt, the caretaker buried his cock all the way down to his large, swollen balls and held it there; hands on the back of Pet’s head. He began grinding and fucking Pet’s throat like it was a pussy; all the way in and all the way out. Pet was slobbering and crying. He was being used like a slutty cock sucking whore! He was giving no resistance.

“Show me, Pet. Pull him into you. Grab that ass and pull him all the way in. Make me believe you want that cock.”

Caretaker was enjoying the throat fuck immensely. He shot me another questioning look.

“I shook my head. NO! Enough, Caretaker. We have other business to finish first.” The caretaker pulled his cock out the ravaged throat until the head rested on Pet’s lips.

“Kiss it,” I said. “Kiss it and tell him ‘thank you’”. Tears were pouring from Pet’s eyes, his nose was running as he kissed the black cock in front of his face. “Now repeat after me; for my disobedience, for my lack of control, I deserve to be punished.” He repeated my command, obviously a broken man.

“I’m glad you see the error of your ways.” With that, I grabbed his wrists and had the caretaker bind them behind his back again. I gestured toward the chair and Caretaker steered the pet over the back of it. I picked up my whip and told Caretaker to move up in front of him.

“Lube that cock up well, my pet, because we all know what comes next, don’t we?” As I began the ass whipping for one last time, Pet was again confronted with the caretaker’s cock. Each lash of the whip forced him forward further and forced his mouth onto Caretaker’s cock. “Suck it, make love to it. You’re going to want it very wet and sloppy,” I told my pet. Wiser, he now did was he was told to do.

“Caretaker,” I said lovingly, “take him and fuck him raw. Make him your bitch,” I crooned.

Walking around the back of the chair, Caretaker gazed at Pet’s wide open, bent over ass. Lining up with Pet’s asshole, he placed the head of his big, veiny, black cock at the winking little hole. Grabbing Pet’s ass cheeks in his large hands, he took a deep breath and pushed the head all the way into Pet’s asshole.

Pet threw his head back and screamed, “No! Oh God, take it out! Take it out!”

Caretaker grasped Pet’s ass cheeks firmly, took a deep breath, and plunged the entire length of his cock all the way into his ass; never stopping until his large balls were resting on the pet’s own balls.

“Oh, Jesus. Take it out. I’ll be good. You’ll never have any trouble out of me again. Just please,” he whimpered, “take it out.”

I laughed at his final attempt to get into my good graces. “Now you’ll see what I meant when I said that you would never fuck another woman. You’re going to be some man’s bitch from now on and you’re going to love it. You’re going to be everyone’s piece of ass quite literally, you piece of shit.”

With his eyes closed and his head thrown back, the caretaker gave himself over to the sheer pleasure of fucking Pet’s ass brutally. Grabbing handfuls of his ass, Caretaker took the final plunge and came inside my pet violently.

With a look of satisfaction on both of our faces, I told Caretaker, “He’s yours for the rest of the weekend. Make sure you and the guys get your fill of him but have him home by Sunday night. My plans for him aren’t finished.

It was going to be a party to remember.

Janet knew that. It was the first time that she was invited to an employee’s party and she knew it’d be just great. At 29, Janet didn’t have many chances to attend parties. She was the modern woman’s ideal — a, strong liberated San Francisco woman, daughter of a congresswoman, progressive in her ways. She’s been at the leading edge of things since childhood. She always had high grades, ever since basic school. She was Class President, sat in the joint board meetings, led her school in rallies and protests alike. She had her bachelor’s degree in Business and Management from UC Berkley and within three months of graduating, already sat in a San Francisco office of a large landscaping firm. Three years later, she was offered the promotion of running a field office in the foothills — a big promotion for a 26 years old woman, no doubt. She reluctantly let go of the liberated city aura of San Francisco and took her brand new hybrid to what she personally thought of as Redneck Country. She found herself in Grass Valley, a town so alien to her lifestyle it could as well have been in another world. The people all drove big gas guzzlers, pulling large horse trailers behind them and it seemed like everyone owned a shotgun and couldn’t stop talking about sports fishing and raising birds, pigs or goats. The town had no decent sushi place, the closest health food store was down in Auburn, some 15 miles away. The coffee shops were all so… unrefined.

But it was all worth it to her. She had always been on her way to the top and this promotion was just one more step on her way. She had 19 landscapers on her staff — little more than gardeners but saying she managed “landscapers” sounded so much more artistic. They were all locals, all married and most had kids. She had nothing in common with them — big, gruff men who talked football, baseball and war. She secretly despised them, although she’d never admit that to anyone. They were little people, with no initiative, no control over the course of their life. She, on the other hand, was always in control, always in charge. Responsibility could be heavy, challenging even, but she was always strong enough to handle whatever life had to throw on her plate.

So what if she didn’t really have time to party? She didn’t need parties or romance or friends to get personal satisfaction. She could always count her successes and take the pride in knowing she was on her way up… and if her employees didn’t invite her to parties they held, so what?

Which was why she found it strange that she was excited about Bob’s party. Perhaps it was because she never got invited to the parties. Maybe it was because of the chance to see how a local party looked like.

“Or maybe I’m just enjoying a nice Sunday afternoon,” she told herself as she drove her blue hybrid into Bob’s driveway. The driveway was packed with local cars — SUVs, pickups, not a single hybrid. The only pretty car she noticed around was a perfectly restored late 60s Chevy Corvette but just the thought of how much gas that old monster must drink soured her opinion of the classic car.

There was loud country music playing in the backyard. Trace Adkins or some other redneck, she thought. They all sounded the same to her, but she knew better than to expect cultural music at this event.

She stepped out of her hybrid, straightened her burgundy dress and donned her best smile. She entered through a small gate in the ugly chickenwire fence.

“Janet,” Bob smiled to her. He was a 34 years old man, descendant of Gold Rush miners and prospectors and looked the part — large, loud, with a thick bushy beard and big callused hands.

“Bob,” she said, “your house looks really nice.”

“Thank you,” he said, “it’s good that you came. Please, make yourself at home. Something to drink?”

He showed her to a table of what appeared to be the local equivalent of bottled water — Miller Lite. She hated beer. Fortunately, she foresaw that and was ready in advance.

“I wasn’t sure what would be appropriate to bring,” she smiled politely, “I hope this bottle of wine works”

He took the bottle — a $30 bottle of Zinfandel from a good Napa Valley winery — shrugged and said “Sure, let me get a bottle opener.”

She managed not to sigh. At least she’ll have good wine to drink.

Half an hour and two glasses of Zinfandel later, she was about ready to find an excuse and leave. The party was horrible. Her employees and their wives were all rednecks. They were talking on and on about the most boring of things — Guns! Hunting! Fishing! Some were sitting around a small TV in the porch watching a baseball game! The women were just as bad — all they could talk about was their kids and their churches. She knew little about children and cared less about religion. She was positively bored stiff. In addition, her bladder was starting to complain, reminding her of too many coffee cups since she woke up this morning.

* . * . *

Ren escorted the two sorceresses through the lush grass field towards the large pools of water and chairs that stood above them.

Airi was a beautiful blonde blue-eyed woman with long flowing blonde hair, a flat chest but a firm, round luscious bottom. She wore a long dark blue Victorian dress with red trim and lace that covered her thin form.

Elisse was slightly taller, with shoulder-length white silky hair and extremely pale skin. Her womanly figure was covered by a flowing white dress.

When the girls reached the two chairs, Ren ran his hand gently over both their stomachs, holding his hand in place and looking over the two beauties.

“Okay, so when you girls sit down, you’ll have your panties off and use your magic to pump the water into each other from your buttholes. Whoever screams that they give up first loses, and has to chug a ton of water until she almost bursts, okay?”

The two blushing girls nodded, and Elisse bent over slightly while holding onto the chair to let Ren get her ready. He raised up the back of her dress to her waist, revealing her smooth creamy pale thighs and round ass, before slowly sliding her panties off to reveal her pink butthole and pussy. She sighed a little and looked back at Ren as he massaged her gorgeous ass a little, running his fingers through the crevice and near her tight little anus. He put his arm around the girl and helped her sit down, sliding his hand under the chair and through the hole in the bottom of it before touching Elisse’s butthole with his fingers.


“About as comfortable as I can be, knowing that my stomach is about to be pumped full.”

He kissed her on her neck gently before focusing his attention to Airi. He pulled the back of her dress up a bit, and slid off her black panties to reveal her gorgeous pale ass, exposing her tight butthole and pink slit. He helped her sit down, and massaged her asshole a little from under the chair, to make sure she was properly exposed for the water to come up.

“Alright, girls. When I say three, use your magic to pump water up each other’s asses.”

Airi solemnly nodded, whilst Elisse eyed her opponent.

As soon as Ren said three, he watched a spiral of water shoot up from underneath the two girls, forcing its way up their bowels.

Airi gave a sharp gasp and spread her legs a little bit, leaning back and clutching her knees whilst Elisse leaned forward, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. Both the girls were sitting with their luscious thighs exposed and their dresses pulled up to their waists, bellies just started to bulge a little as they filled with water. Ren got down near Elisse and watched as her stomach began pushing against her dress, swelling rounder and rounder very slowly as the girl groaned softly and leaned back in her seat. Airi’s belly was a little bigger and more round than Elisse’s at this point, and she was pursing her lips and emitting long “ooohs” as her ass was pumped full of water. The rounded form beneath Airi’s dress continued the grow as the girl held her gorgeous pale creamy legs open a bit more to make room, one hand rubbing the sphere in her lap and the other holding her knee.

Elisse was groaning louder as her belly grew fuller, looking to be pregnant at this point. Ren went over to Airi and gently raised up the front of her dress to reveal a her beautiful round pale belly. He ran his ends gently across the water filled stomach, eying her cute innie belly-button as he stroked her luscious smooth skin. Her belly grew more taught as the water continued pumped her tight butt, the girl groaning loudly and holding Ren’s shoulders tightly as he kissed and massaged her water-bloated belly. Suddenly, he heard Elisse shout for him, and went over to her after kissing Airi’s big rounded belly a little more. Elisse had her legs open, and a big swollen belly bulging out between them which she held in both hands.

“Oh god, I’m going to burst!”

“Just relax, Elisse. Breathe.”

He raised up her dress to reveal the gorgeous sphere of pale flesh beneath and rubbed it gently, whilst kissing it. Her belly was extremely soft, and very full to bursting. Suddenly, he heard Airi scream in agony “Okay! I give up!”

Both the girls stopped using their magic and sat their, rubbing their swollen bare bellies and groaning in agony.

Ren helped Airi up first, holding her huge belly with one hand and massaging her tight pale ass with the other as she bent over and released a huge torrent of water all over the grass. Ren then helped Elisse stand up, holding her rounded belly as she bent over and released a huge torrent of water all over the grass.

Ren helped Airi get her panties back on before escorting her to the water hose that was spewing the clear fluid all over the grass. She blushed and scowled at the hose as Ren picked it up and placed it near her luscious pink lips. Elisse was still sore, but able to stand and watch as Ren gently pushed the hose into Airi’s mouth and held it there, while putting his arm around her. The bulges running down Airi’s pale throat were all the evidence Ren needed that this young beauty was going to have a big swollen belly soon.

Sure enough, the front of Airi’s dress began to round out as her belly pushed forward, slowly filling with water. Her face was still calm as she chugged and chugged from the hose, one hand held over her swollen belly that continued to balloon outwards. Elisse went in and began raising the front of Airi’s dress until her pregnant-looking stomach was bulging above her little black panties. The girl continued to grow until her stomach was as big as when she was getting water pumped up her butt a few minutes earlier, and then she could take no more. Water poured out of her mouth as Ren pulled out he hose and let it run over the girls huge round belly. He massaged her glistening stomach gently as she groaned and held it in both hands, running her fingers over the delicate skin.

As Consuelo sat down on the toilet that morning, she put one hand under her massive belly for support and the other down between her legs. She rubbed at her well-bearded crotch and accidentally slipped a finger into her gaping hole. The downward pressure of her unborn child was beginning to push her apart, but she continued to rub until a torrent of acrid urine came forth. She closed her eyes and let the warm flood wash over her fingers.

The bathroom was her main sanctuary these days as her four children screamed and ran around on the other side the door. She tried to screen out the noise the best she could and let her mind wander, but just then her son pounded on the door with the complaint that he had to use the toilet.

“Una momento, Mijo!” she replied tensely.

The boy stomped away and whined.

She closed her eyes again and returned to her travels as she continued to rub her swollen labia and finger her dilated vagina. She imagined herself on a beach in a lounge chair with her big, pregnant belly exposed for everyone to see.

A handsome man approaches her and offers to rub oil on her beautiful pot belly. She agrees and he puts oil on his hands but then moves behind her. He has her kneel on the blanket as he wraps his masculine arms around her midriff and begins to rub the oil on your stomach. But soon he is working his hands under and around her bra and gripping her milk-swollen tits lustfully. Then one hand plunges down the front of your bathing suit and works its way into her gaping love canal. Soon her tits are out of her bra and her cunt is in full possession of this man. He pushes her head to the blanket and removes her suit bottom roughly before she can object. His stiff member finds its way inside of her with surprising speed and soon he is riding her like a stallion in heat.

The people around them seem to be indifferent to their public fucking and this makes it even better. Then she feels his cock grow inside of her and she readies herself for his ejaculation. He pulls out and walks around to masturbate himself onto her waiting breasts and belly. When he is drained, she rubs his cum around over her voluptuous torso. Then the handsome stranger walks away with his cock still erect and swinging just as her husband returns with the food from the snack bar. She smiles and loves the world she is in.

Back in the bathroom Consuelo continued to fuck herself hard with two fingers as her fantasy faded from her mind. Her cunt was fully open and soaked at this point and she felt a tidal surge she knew quite well begin to rise up inside her. She looked to the ceiling hoping for a fleeting vision of the holy mother as her orgasm began to crest. Her face contorted silently as the throbbing pulsations moved up from her deep cunt into the rest of her body. She saw herself at the top of a mountain starting to go into free fall as the rumbling waves ran through her. Then she left her body momentarily before landing in a warm sea.

Her fingers continued to thrash about inside of her for several more minutes until the waves dissipated and her body fell limp.

She rose weakly and stuck a huge wad of toilet paper over her drenched fuck hole as she heard crying from the other side of the door. She pulled up her underwear and then opened the door to her real life. Her four year-old son had had an accident in his pants and was crying for shame. She picked him up and carried him into the kitchen where she quickly made waffles for the children’s breakfast. Then her mother arrived and she handed her son over to her so she could get changed for work.

“Te amo, Mommie!” she shouted minutes later on her way out the door.

Consuelo arrived at the Marshall estate an hour later. She entered through the kitchen and sat down at the servant’s table. It was there that she saw Lupe, the cook’s assistant, crying alone.

Que paso, Lupe?” she asked.

The girl wiped her eyes and told her the bad news. She was pregnant.

A cold chill swept through Consuelo when she heard this. It was a sense of foreboding. She asked the girl who the father was, but she became frightened.

“Imposible,” she kept repeating, “Imposible.”

Then the staff manager, Marko, entered the room. He was young, tall and handsome and had a definite idea of his own importance. Lupe’s reaction to his entrance told the whole story. Consuelo thought back to all the compliments he had heaped on Lupe from the start, but she didn’t want to believe it.

Why would Marko get involved with such a plain-looking, simple-minded girl like Lupe? Would he fuck anything given the opportunity?

“Vamanos! Vamanos!” Marko called to them, clapping his hands.

Consuelo rose slowly and leered at him as she left the kitchen.

A few hours later when she was vacuuming the library she felt two hands suddenly grip her breasts from behind. Startled, she spun around angrily to find Marko standing there with a broad grin on his face.

“That’s very funny.” she said to him spitefully before returning to work.

“Wow! Are we in a bad mood today?” he queried over the drone of the vacuum.

She gave him a look of contempt and continued with her cleaning. Annoyed, Marko switched off the machine and confronted her.

“What’s the problem here?” he asked seriously.

“Did you fuck that girl?! Consuelo blurted out.

“What girl? he replied with a wronged expression.

“You know WHAT girl. Lupe!”

“Lupe! Why would I fuck Lupe?!

“Because maybe you’re a fucking bastard!” she replied with all her Latin fierceness.

“Mi amor, por favor,” he cajoled in a whisper, “I would never go near that girl. Not when I have a hot, sexy, beautiful woman like you to keep me happy!”

As he said this he put his hand on her ass and kissed her neck. This made Consuelo feel weak again like she had in the bathroom earlier that day. Had she perhaps judged him too quickly? Marko saw her doubt and continued.

“You know how much I missed you yesterday? he asked her.

“No, how much?” she replied, smiling coyly now.

“This much.” he said, taking her hand and putting it on his bulging groin.

He kissed her neck again and put his other hand under her shirt on her huge belly. The heat and adrenaline immediately rose up from her neck into her face like a forest fire. She was his once more.

He pulled her into the adjoining office and locked the door.

“How’s my momma’s cunt today?” he asked as he felt her up from behind and ground his cock into her ass.

She closed her eyes and caressed the back of his head and cock with her hands as he went down her neck again and undid her pants. Then he reached into her panties and found the wadded tissue from the morning, still wet. He pulled it out and held it to his nose.

“Were you thinking about me this morning?” he teased.

Consuelo could only nod and moan.

He finally got her naked, just the way he liked her, belly and ass popping out in a ridiculous way, over-flowing tits aching to be sucked. He pushed her onto the leather couch and held her legs up and back to reveal the bushy mother hole that was begging to be pile-driven. But first he had to taste the salty, smelly cunt that she had obviously neglected to wash. He put his tongue in and lapped at the tangy brine of it.

“Iye!” Consuelo called out.

His cock couldn’t take anymore of this so he dropped his pants and slid his eager tool deep inside her sloppy prenatal twat. The smell of her morning cum rose up and intoxicated him as he penetrated her right to the edge of her uterine wall. Yes, he thought, the baby was right there and ready to drop and this made him fuck her harder. She watched his face carefully as she squeezed her own milk out of her tits. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he would come all over her waiting belly, but for now she concentrated on the good pounding he was giving her. It all made her feel beautiful and desired and young.

He suddenly groaned and began stroking off his cock onto her stomach and pubic mound. He never did last very long inside her. It seems all her over-sized, protruding body parts had that strong of an effect on him. She looked down contently at the semen he had surrendered and she felt like a real woman again.

Later that day, as Consuelo was cleaning one of the upstairs bathrooms, she heard Spanish voices coming from behind a closed door. She put her ear to the wood and realized it was Lupe pleading with Marko.

“But what will I do now?” she asked him in tears.

“Find a man and get married.” he told her coldly.

“But this is your baby!” she cried out.

After that, Consuelo couldn’t listen anymore. Her heart was in her throat and her blood was racing. She was being played by yet another man, just as her husband played her with his girlfriends on the side. Marko was just another whore, which meant there was nothing special about her. She was just another cunt to be used and discarded.

She went downstairs and then out to the fresh air of the garden to clear her head. She could still feel his cock inside her and that was the worst part. Everything seemed to be building within her; all the insults and betrayals seemed to all rise at once. She had had enough of the bullshit of men she decided.

She got up and walked further back into the property to the horse stables since being around these graceful creatures had always had a soothing effect on her. Once inside she took her shoes off to feel the cool, brown dirt and straw under her feet. The horses all turned and whinnied as she passed, no doubt smelling the sex pheromones being blasted out from between her legs.

She stopped at the stall of a black mare that looked at her with placid eyes. The horse’s coat shone and was firm and velvet smooth to the touch. She instantly imagined herself riding it through the woods bareback, her body being tossed about by its charging power. She entered the stall and put her face against its flank. The girth of its muscular frame made her want to wrap her naked pregnant body around it and her state of mind was such that this seemed like a very good idea. Impulsively, she stripped herself of her uniform and underwear and mounted the horse in her beautiful, curvaceous nakedness.

Once atop the mare, Consuelo pressed her ripe mound against its spine and slowly shifted her weigh back and forth. Soon she had put her hips into the movement, her round buttocks flexing forcefully each time she pulled up. She tilted forward and set her perfect belly down on the mare’s back, supporting herself with her arms as she clinched the mare’s body with her strong thighs. She was riding through the woods now as the naked fertility goddess she was. Her ass began to bounce up and down on the animal as she closed her eyes and traveled off to the woods. But just then she heard the sound of a man clearing his throat! She opened her eyes to find the stable hand standing right in front of her with a somewhat confused expression on his face.

The shock of the intrusion by this man set something off inside of her. She dismounted the horse agilely and exited the stall to confront him in all her potent nakedness. Her eyes were blazing as this mild-mannered Mexican man stared at her in disbelief.

“What are you looking at!” she yelled, her face now twisted in rage.

The man could only shake his head in fear.

“I asked you, what are you looking at!” she yelled again.

When the man couldn’t reply she grabbed a riding crop from the wall and began beating him. She lashed at him in broad strokes as he tried vainly to block the blows with his arms. She soon had him down on the dirt as she held his collar and beat his back and legs, her belly and tits shaking from the effort.

“Get on your hands and knees!” she commanded him.

He quickly complied and as soon as he did she mounted his back and began whipping his posterior.

“Ride! Ride!” she ordered, kicking his legs with her heels.

The horses around them became spooked and neighed in their stalls, but the stable hand did as he was commanded and scuffled around on his hands and knees as Consuelo rode him like the queen of Sheba. Then she ordered him to stop as she stood up over him and released a hot stream of urine onto his shirt. She told him to stay in that position as she retrieved her clothes. When she was dressed again she walked up and whipped him once more on the ass before throwing away the crop and heading outside.

The next morning as Consuelo finger fucked herself on the toilet her fantasy was quite different. This time when the handsome man approached her on the beach she tied his masculine arms behind him and then bound his cock and testicles with a string so that his cock remained fully engorged but was unable to ejaculate. Then she whipped his naked ass with a riding crop as a warm-up for the pain to come. This time HE was on the blanket face down, ass in the air and SHE was fucking him, sliding the handle of that crop into his asshole and massaging his prostate with it. She had seen her father do this with bulls to get semen on the farm. But unlike the bulls, this handsome man would not be allowed to come. She rubbed his prostate with that crop until he begged for release. But there would be no more coming for him, not into her, or onto her. He would be brought right to the edge and then denied, again and again and again.

Consuelo’s orgasm was very intense that morning and she did see the sweet Virgin briefly, looking down on her with a compassionate smile. The Virgin had been right not to ever let a man inside of her and this was wisdom she had to remember.

But Consuelo didn’t learn her lesson about going around with an unwashed, cum-soaked pussy, because that very day her fertile twat came to the attention of another man’s nose at the playground where she took her kids. He introduced himself as a doctor who specialized in pain relief. So days later when he invited her to his office for an evaluation she couldn’t resist. During the evaluation she told him about the back pain she was having so he had her sit in a special chair as he worked the vertebra she complained about. Then he had her assume a prone position on her knees that stretched the back muscles. However the clinical gown she was wearing then parted and exposed her ass and pubic beard to him and he was unable to stop his hand from delving into her pungent garden. He pretended it was part of the treatment and began to rub and then penetrate her with his fingers. She realized then that this was not going to be a regular visit to the doctor.

So it wasn’t long before Consuelo’s smelly cunt was hosting yet another rock hard cock, as the good doctor fucked her from behind harder than anyone else had.

“When I saw your huge belly and smelled your dirty cunt I knew I had to fuck you!” he confessed in the heat of action.

She gripped the exam table and grimaced as her tits and belly shook from the pounding she was taking.

“Iye, doctor, Iye!” she moaned to encourage him.

Consuelo realized then that she loved to be used by men and ridden like a bitch in the field. It was what her nature called for, it was what her ripe pussy called for; fucking, and lots of it.

The doctor began to moan and Consuelo got excited, but as he shot his load deep into her, her water broke, flooding out over his cock and drenching the table. He told her to stay in that position and push and soon the head of the baby was crowning at her vagina. Her smelly twat was now divesting itself of its cargo and it wasn’t long before the infant was kicking and screaming in the stunned doctors arms.

“It’s a girl!” he announced.

Consuelo turned around and laid down in the puddle of cum and afterbirth. Then she took her fifth child to her swollen tit and pacified it. She was a woman and this was her role in the world.

Linda Jamison stood in front of the man and fought back tears, determined not to cry. The news that she had just received from this man shook her to the core. She would never have believed it, not about Michael. He just didn’t seem to be that type of person.

Then again, what did “that” type of person look like? She knew judges, policemen, doctors, lawyers, bankers, people from all walks of life, shared the same affliction as Michael.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” Mr. Foswell said as he looked over at the obviously-unhappy brunette. He knew that she had dolled herself up to convince him to work out a deal and he was willing to cut her some slack, but not too much slack. She was a looker, but men with his kind of money could snap their fingers and find twenty more just like her. He looked at her again. Okay, maybe five, ten tops. She was sure a gorgeous woman and he thought Michael was an idiot for risking his marriage in this way. The more he looked into Linda Jamison’s beautiful almond eyes, the more she seemed to draw him in. Maybe only one or two women had what she had. Yeah, Michael was a fucking idiot for risking his marriage to this gorgeous and exotic-looking honey.

“How much?” Linda asked, trying to keep the tears from her voice and remain calm. “How much does my husband owe you?”

Foswell looked at the brunette beauty and he had to admire her strength. She hadn’t crumpled when he called her home and she hadn’t panicked when he said he was sending someone to pick her up. The men that worked for him were a bit scary looking, but it was all for show. Foswell ran a legitimate business after taking over from his father – who didn’t. He used his gangster dad’s reputation to handle cheaters and welshers and 95% of the time, it worked out fine.

“He’s into me for a quarter million,” Foswell said to the young woman. He watched her jaw drop and her eyes go wide. To her credit, she did not cry, faint or crumple to the ground. If anything, she looked furious.

“That’s almost what he earns in a year,” Linda said with anger in her soft voice. “How could he be so damned stupid?” She loved Michael. She had been the happiest girl in the world when they had married two short years ago. She had known a number of men, but none like her husband. She had waited 33 years for a man like him, tall, handsome and successful. They had even talked of having a family. That would have to wait. It was obvious her husband had a problem and she needed to do something about it. First, she had to find a way to settle things with Mr. Foswell.

“We don’t have that kind of money,” Linda said and looked at him with pleading eyes. An idea struck her. “We have a huge home and it’s all in my name. I can take out a second mortgage on the house and pay you most of the money – in a week, would that be okay?”

Foswell admired the young woman, she had moxie. “Yeah, but what about the rest? Tell you what – I need a few cocktail waitresses to take some extra shifts. You’re hotter’n hell, you come work for me and I’ll deduct the remaining debt from your wages.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t intend to work for free,” Linda stated plainly.

“Doll, with your face and body, you’ll clean up in tips,” Foswell told her. “Believe me; you won’t be workin’ for free. Do we have a deal?”

She extended her hand and Foswell didn’t think he’d ever touched skin that soft. “We do,” Linda said to him with great appreciation. “Thank you, I’ll make sure you get what you’re entitled to.”

As she drove her sporty little MG home, Linda’s wheels were spinning, but not in the car. She now knew that Michael was a compulsive gambler and his “poker nights” were spent losing most of their savings. She was going to find a way to put a stop to that. She thought that part of Michael knew he had a problem and that is why he had insisted the house be in her name only. That had saved their bacon, now what? She would have to find a way to pay off their second mortgage. Michael could easily gamble away their money again.

Then, it hit her. A Linda Michael had never met resurfaced. It was the survivor instinct of a young woman who was on her own at 16 and at 18, had done what she needed to do to survive. A Linda who was wily and smart and who got whatever she went after. This Linda was going to insure their future and if Michael got out of line, she could deal with his ass. She loved him, but the Linda that was now driving the MG was a survivor above all else.

Michael had met the attractive brunette in a nightclub and offered to buy her a drink. They got to talking and he danced with her. She was surprised because most men couldn’t dance, although he could – very well. She was dying to know if he moved equally well in bed. As it turned out, he did. So well, that she never bothered to tell him why she had been in the club in the first place.

Linda had been a high-class call girl since the age of 18. A friend had shown her the way and helped her set up a website presence. She had been doing very well and was supposed to meet her date at the club when his wife got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. Linda got paid in advance, so she had time to kill. She was in the club looking to see if she could attract another man – or hot lady, Linda sometimes partied with women. In a leopard print hat and matching boots, with her hair down and a very short skirt, she remembered Michael telling her that she stood out from the crowd like sunshine through a field of black clouds.

She found herself falling for Michael after their first-ever “date”. He was funny and chatty and talkative. She also found out he was very successful. He took her to a restaurant where dinner cost as much as she earned for a few hours of kinky sex.

So many times over the next few weeks, Linda had wanted to tell Michael what she did for a living. She didn’t intend to be deceptive, although she wondered if he’d end it if he knew. She scaled back her working schedule; she was no longer the desperate woman of some years earlier. She had savings and investments and owned her small condo outright. When Michael asked her to marry him, she accepted. She had a few final flings with favorite customers and left that world behind.

Now, it was time for THAT Linda to return. She had to control their life and she knew how. The same way she had for most of her life – with sex.

Michael had a higher sex drive than many of her former clients. Linda rarely went unsatisfied in bed. Okay, it was time to up the ante. Michael wanted this and he wanted that. She was going to treat their sex life as a game, but completely everything was in favor of the house. He could have whatever it was he wanted – but everything as of now was going to cost him. She walked into their spacious home and looked in the mirror. She hadn’t lost her looks, not one iota.

She called the bank and made arrangements for their second mortgage. Mr. Dillon could not have been more helpful and he told her no, as she was the sole name on the mortgage, Michael would not necessarily have to be informed. Only in case of an emergency. When she finished the arrangements, knowing how much debt Michael had put them into, Linda was seething. She looked in the mirror again.

Oh yeah, sex was going to cost her husband big-time.

Michael came home on time from his job and acted as if nothing was wrong. She had to give him credit; he knew how to keep a secret. His was almost as big as hers. All throughout dinner, he didn’t mention Foswell or his huge debt, although Linda knew Foswell had contacted him. She tried to push her resentment down, telling herself he had a problem. She needed to deal with things one step at a time. She went upstairs and came down dressed in a slinky black teddy and her sluttiest pair of 5-inch stiletto heels. “In the mood for a fuck, handsome?” She purred as she leaned in close. She knew her husband would never turn down a horny woman, so she had his interest.

“Of course, what did you have in mind?” Michael asked as his sexy wife sat on his lap. He’d never seen this teddy before and there was a wild, feral look in her eyes.

“Baby, we’re going to play a game,” she purred, keeping up the pretense of knowing nothing about his problems. “I’m going to act as a call girl and sex is going to cost you. A blowjob and a hot fuck will cost you – oh, let’s say, $1500. What do you think, am I worth it?”

“Of course you are baby, but are you serious?” Michael chuckled.

Linda kept up her act. “Uh-huh, I could use a little mad money so that I can buy more naughty things like this little outfit,” she grinned and did a small pirouette. “Do you like it?”

“You bet I do,” Michael grinned as he got out his wallet. “Okay, I’ll play along.” He handed her 15 $100 dollar bills and watched in amazement as she put them in a drawer for safe keeping. She led him upstairs to their bedroom and he couldn’t help noticing her persona seemed different. She seemed wilder, nastier, almost – dare he say it – a bit of a slut?

Whatever had gotten into Linda, that night he got a far different wife than the one he was used to. She sucked and fondled and gave him the noisiest, wettest blowjob of his life and instead of spitting out his cum, she swallowed it and made quite the production out of it. He got her wet by eating her, but she wasn’t as anxious for oral as she normally was. He waited for her to mount him, as she usually liked to be on top, but she looked at him with her gorgeous dark eyes and asked him how he wanted to fuck.

“Well, we always …”

“You’re the customer lover, you get whatever you want. You paid for it,” Linda smiled.

Michael looked at his gorgeous wife as if he was seeing a different woman. She had even kept her sexy heels on in bed, something he found to be a real turn-on! “Are you serious?” He asked with a chuckle.

They almost always fucked with Linda on top, because it was her favorite and he liked to please her. It wasn’t his favorite, he liked doggy, so he requested that. Linda nodded and let him slip it in from behind. She let him slam her pussy with as much strength as he could muster up. Linda wasn’t totally mercenary about it, she enjoyed the fuck and let him go as long as he wanted. She made him cum again and then, they were done.

“Another round?” He asked with a happy smile.

“If you’ve got another $1500, sure,” Linda told him. He looked at her with astonishment. “I told you babe, I want to have a bit of mad money, so you’re going to provide it for a while. In exchange, you get a whore for a wife. A slut who will please you in bed. I might decide to fuck you for my own pleasure every so often, but get used to the new status quo.” Linda rolled over and fell asleep while her husband stared at her. Something had changed, drastically changed. He liked a bit of it, the unbridled Linda was incredible, yet it troubled him somewhat as well. Oh well – they were still newlyweds in a sense, they’d adjust.

Linda went to the bank early the next day, about an hour after Michael had left for work. She wore a clingy white sweater and a short black skirt with high heels. She got a check from Mr. Dillon and he gave her a reasonable rate for her second mortgage as she was such a “valued customer”. Linda smiled and thanked him, sure her naughty attire had nothing to do with it. She handed back $1000 in cash towards her first payment and banked the remainder in her account. Michael never checked there. She would buy some new pieces of lingerie from that account every so often. In the meantime, she had several trashy outfits from her former career that he had never seen before.

Michael had a busy week at work and Linda played the supportive wife, cooking all of his meals and keeping the house tidy. She also started her job at the casino and found she liked it. The other hostesses were cute and Foswell had been right, the tips were enormous. She was astonished to find out what he paid his girls. “I pay the best, so I get the best,” he told her as she moved about in her new, short black uniform. He still couldn’t believe the hot brunette cookie had managed to come up with 200 Grand on her own. He had underestimated her.

Linda could easily have started up her old career again and was occasionally tempted. Part of her was still furious with Michael, addiction or no addiction. A lot of the customers were good looking. She could have gone the “women only” route and done fine, it was easy to spot girl-loving girls because of the way they tipped or looked her over. Linda’s survivor instincts were still working, she wasn’t ready to make any moves as yet, but she wasn’t ruling anything out either.

By the end of the week, Linda was horny as hell and almost abandoned her plan. Fortunately for her, Michael was not a man who could hold out for sex too much longer. He needed a release after a stressful week. He asked Linda if they could go upstairs and fuck and she smiled sweetly. “Certainly darling, did you have anything particular in mind?”

He smiled back at his sensual, exotic wife. Part of this arrangement might work out to his advantage, although he couldn’t afford to play poker and screw his whore-wife. His libido won out, of course. “I’ve always wanted to fuck those great tits of yours, maybe give you a pearl necklace?” He grinned. Linda had many customers in her past career who had done that, it was no big deal. Still, she wasn’t telling Michael that.

“Sure tiger, I think with the other things included we can do that for 2 Grand,” she smiled sweetly. Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head, but if sex with Linda tonight was anything like it had been before, it would be worth it. The money had turned her libido on to overdrive. He handed her two $1000 bills, which she put in her purse. “I’m going upstairs to shower and put on something really slutty,” Linda told him. “Finish loading the dishwasher and join me when you’re done.”

Michael got his chores done and almost ran up the stairs. It seemed odd, to be doing chores and living with a woman he was paying to fuck, but it also had an air of kinky fun to it. He stopped in his tracks when he got to their bedroom. Linda was wearing a white lace bodysuit with holes cut out on the sides. She wore another pair of stilettos, this pair white and also with a silver tip. If his money was going towards buying clothes like this, it was money well spent.

“Come on in handsome, I don’t bite,” Linda said with a throaty purr. “I might scratch and nibble, if you get me too hot. I hope you’re ready for a hot fuck baby, this gets me really fucking wet.”

Michael had never seen this side of his wife before. Yeah, she loved sex, but this Linda almost craved it and wasn’t afraid to be a total slut. She had a good time undressing him and then sucked his cock even more vigorously than the last time. Again, she swallowed his cum and then she let him have fun with her tits before undressing her. Her bodysuit was flimsy and she was glad he was careful with it, because it had been expensive. He ate her cunt with more vigor than she had ever known. When Linda was a “working girl”, very few of her customers ever got to do that. She afforded Michael that honor because he was her husband and he was very, very good at it – now he was even better.

This night, Michael fucked his whore wife in the Missionary position, something they had only done a few times during their sex life. Then Linda got some oil and lubed up her titties. She squeezed them together and let her man fuck her jugs before cumming all over her. It wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of, but she was now 2 thousand richer and another step closer to paying their bills. Plus, Michael hadn’t gone to “poker night”, she knew he couldn’t afford to do both.

She went to the bank before going to work the next day and got some astonished looks when she made another payment on their mortgage. She deposited the remainder, plus her tip money, into her other account. Linda decided to go shopping the next day and get some new lingerie, a pair of heels, some toys and other supplies. To be the perfect whore-slut, one had to stay on top of things. She sailed through work that afternoon and walked away with a few hundred in tips and an offer from a very attractive black woman. She smiled sweetly and told the girl she’d think about it – and she would. The woman was hot as hell.

The lingerie boutique Linda visited was very upscale, she had used it in the past because everything they sold was of the highest quality. Linda figured that she would likely end up spending four figures on her new inventory, but it would be money well spent and she would reap some of the rewards as well. The new-old Linda was getting some of the best fucking of her life.

She was putting items on the counter that she intended to purchase when a woman she recognized approached her. It was the store’s owner, whom Linda knew from years earlier. “I thought I recognized you,” the woman said, giving Linda a small kiss on the cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“I got married,” Linda smiled and the woman – what was her name? – looked back at her.

“Oh, I see,” the owner – Jen-something? – Linda knew she’d get it “The marriage didn’t work out?”

“No, we’re still married, I’m not in the business any longer,” Linda told her. “We’re just experimenting with some new ideas.”

“I see,” the owner – Colleen, that was it! – said to Linda. “My husband and I have experimented for years, that’s why we own the store. I was actually hoping that you were still in the business, actually,” Colleen sighed. She began to put Linda’s purchases into a neat little pile while they talked.


“My husband and I were looking to have a threesome, but not with anyone we know,” Colleen told her. “We just want to have a no-strings-attached fucking good time and both of us thought of you. As if by magic, here you are.”

The old Linda popped up at that second. “Okay, I might be interested – can we make a deal?” Colleen’s blue eyes lit up and she nodded. “I’ll come over to your home and fuck with the pair of you for an evening. I’ll be a total whore, for one night – and in exchange, you give me a good deal on all of this stuff!” Linda knew she would be cheating on her husband, but at this point, it was more money in the bank. A one-time deal that she could use to make another payment on their home.

“You have a deal,” Colleen smiled. “I won’t charge you a thing for your items, they’re on the house. I remember that some of my regulars partied with you. They said that you’re a total slut in bed, which is just what Aaron and I want.”

The two women worked out the particulars. The following Saturday, Michael was going on a fishing trip with his friends. He had heard from Foswell, who had informed him a “friend” had paid off his tab, but that he shouldn’t come to his tables again. Michael thanked his lucky stars and hung up. It couldn’t have been Linda, she knew nothing about his addiction and if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet about it. He went on his trip and decided to join Gamblers Anonymous when he got back and rebuild their savings. Linda deserved a secure future and she’d been so wild in the sack lately. Maybe it was time to revisit the idea of kids?

Linda watched her husband drive away and phoned Colleen. She got dressed in a slutty PVC outfit and called a cab to take her to Colleen’s home. She wasn’t there 15 minutes before she had Aaron’s big cock in her mouth and Colleen’s lips glued to her pussy. She felt like such a slut again and realized that this woman was the true Linda. She loved her husband, but she needed the excitement of extra sex. She was going to work again, just every so often, to keep her slutty desires at bay. Michael would never find out because she intended to keep blinding him with kinky sex.

In the evening we were in the mom’s bedroom. Usha asked, “Mom please tell me your and our father’s story. I’m so exited to hear it.”

“When my husband died, I came here to live with Rekha and her husband. Rudra! Your parents make very much noisses during their sex sessions. One night I started to watch there lovemaking through window.” Aunt says.

“I was pregnant then. Your father was fucking me.” Mom says.


“Oh God…. Your ass is so tight Rekha. You are so fucking hot darling.” Raj (my father) said. “Fuck my ass hard Raj. Fuck me with your hard cock. Tear my ass. Aaahhhhhh.” Rekha (my mom) said. “Fuck my pussy with your fingers and my ass with my cock. Oh yeah… It feels so great. aaahh.”

Suddenly Raj saw Pooja on the window of room. She was fingering her pussy. “Rekha! Your sister is watching us having sex through window.” Raj whispered in Rekha’s ear. “Lets catch her now. She is not looking at us now. She is busy in fingering herself. Now it’s time to give her some real pleasure.” Rekha said.

They catch Pooja fingering her cunt. She was shocked to see us there. “Lets go in my bedroom and have some real fun. Raj will be very happy to have us both sisters.”

Rekha undressed Pooja. She said, “Raj! Now Pooja is also your wife. It’s your duty to satisfy our needs.” Pooja’s cunt was so wet. Rekha started licking her cunt and Raj inserted his cock in her mouth. “Suck my cock and make it hard again. So i can fuck you.” Raj said.

“Oh.. Oh God.. Your mouth feels so good Rekha. Suck my Pussy sister.” Pooja moaned. “Keep sucking me. Fuck your sister with your mouth.”

Raj started to suck Pooja’s boobs. “Your boobs are so huge Pooja.” Raj says. “Oh yes.. Suck my boobs Raj. Lick my nipples. Suck my pussy Rekha. I’m going to cum.. Oh God… I’m cumming…” Pooja screamed. Rekha drink her pussy juice and kissed Raj. They shared Pooja’s cunt juice. Raj was rock hard. It was hard for him to control himself. Raj inserted his hard cock in Pooja’s wet cunt.

“Aaaaaahhhhh.. Slowly Raj.. It’s paining. Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Forgive me God… I’m fucking my sister’s husband.. I’m fucking my own brother in law… Fuck me hard Raj.” Pooja moaned. “Oh Pooja you are so fucking tight.” Raj screamed. Rekha sat on the face of Pooja and she started to lick her cunt. “Oh.. Sister your mouth feel so good on my pussy. Please don’t stop. Fuck me with your mouth.” Rekha moaned.

Raj and Rekha start kissing. “Oh God.. Raj keep fucking me. I’m going to cum again. Fuck me hard Raj. Oh..” Pooja moaned. “Your tight cunt making me cum also. I’m also going to cum.” Raj said.

“Cum inside my pussy. Make me pregnant just like my sister. Fuck me Raj. I’m cumming… Aaahhh oh God.. I’m cumming..” Pooja screamed. “Me too. I’m filling your cunt with my seed. Take it you slut. I’m cumming.” Raj screamed.

After Raj and Pooja’s climaxes, They concentrated on Rekha. Pooja was sucking her pussy while Raj was playing with her boobs.

“Lick my cunt sister. I’m going to cum soon. Play with my boobs Raj. Suck my nipples. Fuck me with your mouth you slut. I’m cumming…. Oooh God… I’m cumming…” Rekha screamed.

She came on Pooja’s mouth. Pooja drank all her juices. After great sex session they slept in each other’s arms.


“After some time we discocer that Pooja was pregnant so we moved here. But unfortunately your father died just after that in a accident.” Rekha said.

“It’s story of our love. We missed your father very much. But now we have Raj as our husband. Thank you Usha for thinking about us.” Pooja said.

“You are welcome mom. Hearing about our father and you both made me so horny. Now I just want a great fucking.” Usha said. Once again we all are busy in our lovemaking. Mom moved even closer and whispered in her ear, “I would like to thank you in a much more intimate way.” I started by working my mouth all over Usha’s pussy.

She was pretty juicy already, when my tongue dove deep into her love tunnel. She had her legs spread wide and pulled back, as I was lapping at her slit and pushing my fingers into her pussy.

“Oh God Rudra, you are sending me over the edge,” she was practically screaming! When I got that area good and wet, I had her get on all fours.

“What are you going to do?” Usha asked.

“Something new tonight,” was my reply.

I was rubbing my mushroom head up and down her slicked up area, she thought I was going to bury my cock in the usual place. Instead, I pushed the head past her ass muscles.

“No, not there, please,” Usha was begging for me to stop.

I pushed as hard as I could, and my cock was inside now, to the hilt.

“Aaaahhhh, no!” Usha screamed. I started to ram her ass as deeply as I could. I could hear my balls slapping those beautiful asscheeks as I pummeled her behind. She pushed back against my rod and I gave her all I had. That tight ass of hers was making my seed boil up. I slammed one more time into her tight butt and then shot all my seed, like a raging volcano. It felt like I blew a gallon of cum into her tummy!

I finally squirted my last bit of cum into her. I slowly pulled out. All our love juices were coated onto my cock. Mom wrapped her mouth around my shaft and licked me clean of all our love spunk. I was hard again. I stood behind aunt, reaching my arm around her. I pulled her tightly to me. My still hard member was up against her ass crack. I was sliding it up and down. This was making aunt very excited.

I told her to put her hands on the wall and bend at the waist. The tip of my cock was able to easily slip into her ass. We both got into a rocking motion. Aunt was pushing back against me and I was thrusting my pole into her. We were so close now. I jammed my cock into her hard.

“Cum with me aunt, let it go!”

“Fuck me, oh fuck me, Rudra!”

We fucked like two demons until we were both drained. Now it was mom’s turn. Usha take my cock in her mouth and aunt started sucking mom’s cunt. “Get on your fucking knees mom!” I sais. Mom obediently got on her knees. Her ass raised high in the air. She began moaning loudly as my thick cockhead slightly penetrated her sensitive asshole.

“Ah… ahh… ahhh… …fuck me! …fuck me! …fuck me! AHHHHHHHhhhhh…” Mom moaned. “Ooooohhhh that feels nice, I’m going to love riding your cock.”

I continued to fuck her ass, the strokes were full, long and hard. I thrust into her several times as I dumped my load into her ass grunting like an animal as I did it.

“UNNH… UNNNH… UNNNH…” until my load was spent inside her ass. Mom also climaxed with me.

“Anyone for a shower?” Usha asked. One by one we joined her in the shower and then one by one we got out, dried ourselves off and then went to the queen-sized bed in my bedroom. Me, mom, aunt and Usha, none of us were awake long.

Disclaimer: The following is a work of pure sexual fantasy and is intended for adult audiences ONLY. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading NOW and go tell your parent and/or guardian that you need stricter internet supervision. Any physical resemblance to a real person that any fictional character herein may bear is probably intentional and is meant as a compliment. Furthermore, all fictional characters in the following fantasy are professionals and good at what they do. So please, don’t try this at home; if such things were even physically possible. If you still insist on trying this at home, please send all pictures and feedback about the experience to myself via the CONTACT tab on my profile. If I can’t stop you I can at least make sure you’re doing it right. Consider yourself disclaimed.

The Dermott Clinic, Part I

“G’mornin’! I’m Georgiana, and welcome to the Dermott Women’s Clinic. Do y’all have an appointment?” asked the bubbly brunette receptionist with the deep southern drawl at the front desk of the clinic.

“Good morning, and yes we do. Wilder: Laura, Cora and Emily,” replied Laura. “We have 9:00 AM appointments for full physicals.”

The perky twenty-something receptionist chewed her lower lip in deep concentration as she navigated the software running on her monitor for a few seconds; deeper concentration than the simple task should have demanded. Obviously, clicking on a few buttons and greeting patients was stretching her simple mental capacity to its limits. Laura was certain that the young woman was in her present position more as eye candy than a productive member of the clinic’s nursing staff. Her first impression of the young receptionist was only strengthened as she gazed down across the desk into the deep cleavage of the massive breasts that threatened to pop out of her tight, low-cut nurse’s uniform. Laura was certain that if the woman moved too quickly, they just might. Despite her annoyance at having to deal with perceptibly stupid people, the affect of the bubbly young woman wasn’t lost on her. Quick mental images of what she’d like to do to the buxom brunette if she had the chance flashed through her mind.

“Ah yes! Here ya are. If I could just get y’alls thumb prints on the scanner, I’ll check y’all into the computer here, and ya can have a seat,” the empty-headed receptionist said cheerfully; her bulging breasts bouncing around deliciously as she motioned towards the scan pad located in front of her on the desk. The motion itself was way more jerky than it had any right to be; with mouth watering results.

Laura tore her gaze from the woman’s dancing mammaries to look Georgiana in the eyes once again. “Ah… Yes… Girls, she needs your thumb prints,” she said in slight embarrassment as she scanned herself in first.

Georgina only smiled more brightly. It was as if the phrase, ‘My face is up here, pervert’ had never once in her life occurred to her to say.

It probably hadn’t.

“Thank y’all kindly,” Georgina said as she turned every precious IQ point at her disposal to the monitor in front of her and tapped the keyboard a few times. Once again, Laura took the opportunity to gaze longingly down the woman’s cleavage.

Hey, Laura thought to herself, if you got it, flaunt it, I guess.

“Alrighty,” she announced proudly after a few seconds. “It found all y’alls records and yur checked in. If y’all could have a seat, a nurse will call ya back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Laura responded and turned towards the room’s rows of comfortable chairs; thankful that she didn’t have to listen to that bimbo’s annoying accent anymore. Perhaps a nice big ball gag would do her wonders for her conversational skills…

Come now Laura! Get your mind out of the gutter! she admonished herself firmly. You don’t have to get your panties wet over every big-boobed bimbo you run across; if you actually wore panties that is.

“Just your type, right mom?” inquired Emily with a smile on her face as the three Wilders found a trio of adjacent seats in the half full waiting room.

“I think she’s every woman’s type,” Laura replied quietly. “Just as long as she doesn’t say too much that is.”

“She’s certainly my type,” Cora agreed as she glanced over her shoulder to watch Georgiana greet the next pair of women that were coming into the clinic with equal enthusiasm and air-headed devotion. “She can say whatever she wants!”

“You can do better, honey,” Laura told her daughter. “I’m sure she’s dynamite in the sack, but what would you two talk about when you’re not having sex?”

“With a body like that, I don’t think there would be much time we wouldn’t be having sex; so I don’t see the problem,” Cora countered skillfully.

“She has a point, mom,” Emily agreed as her gaze followed her sister’s to watch the receptionist’s tits bounce around as she went about her entry-level job.

Ah… To be young and dumb again, Laura thought. She didn’t say anything further, in order to allow her two youngest daughters to peel the receptionist’s tight clothes off with their eyes and mind-fuck the sexy brunette senseless.

As Laura was observing the lust-filled expressions on the faces of her two teenagers, her phone beeped softly. The notification was immediately followed by a slightly painful stretching sensation as the Dilation Master XXL that Amanda had buckled into her mother’s spacious bottom that morning sensed that Laura was no longer in motion. The ingenious device was one of a new line of ‘smart’ plugs being marketed by Anal by Design at the Women’s Health and Wellness Expo. The model Laura wore today was one of the toys that her eldest daughter had brought home last night in her little bag of goodies.

The Dilation Master XXL was designed to remain at a pre-programmed diameter to match that of a woman’s normal daily plug; it would stay at this size as the wearer went about her day. This was the plug’s Retention mode. However, as soon as she stopped moving – like, say: sitting at her desk, attending a management meeting, or waiting in a clinic’s waiting room – the smart plug would sense the lack of movement and automatically start expanding itself into its Expanded mode. Of course, there were many safety features built into the device: It wouldn’t expand while the wearer was driving; that could be dangerous. There were also built-in pressure sensors to ensure that, when enlarging occurred, the plug would not grow to dimensions that could physically damage the wearer. The plug’s control app on Laura’s phone also had an override button that would force the plug to contract to its normal Retention size. Optionally, this last feature could be disabled provided that at least one phone the plug was registered to keep this safety feature enabled.

The plug’s Expanded size could either be pre-programmed at the same time the Retention size was, or an optional Maximized mode was available. This setting would utilize the data recorded from the plug’s pressure sensors to keep up a grueling outwards pressure on the enclosing rectum without regard to how large the plug actually got. This optional setting was what Amanda had set Laura’s Dilation Master to after it had been safely locked in place.

Her phone beeped yet again when the plug’s expansion halted several seconds later. Laura groaned softly from the intense discomfort in her nether hole as she checked her phone.

Dilation Master XXL Control Dashboard

Laura’s Plug:

Mode: Maximized

Dilation: 5.91″

Duration: 0:00:06


- You have been dilated past 5 7/8″ today! Congratulations!

Amanda’s Plug:

Mode: Retention

Dilation: 5.5″

Duration: 2:07:21

Damn! Amanda thought as she did some mental arithmetic. 5.91 inches is a little over five and seven eighths inches! This thing might have me at six inches in diameter by the time I get home tonight.

Shit! I’ve only been at five and seven eighths inches as my maximum capacity for a day and a half now and I’m already getting wider? I guess my butt’s remembering how wide it used to expand when Dave was still around.

As her Laura’s phone attested to, Amanda had joined her mother earlier that day by inserting one of the Dilation Masters she’d brought home up her own bubble butt. Both of them had registered each other’s plugs with their phones so that they could monitor the other’s progress throughout the day. Laura had to admit that it was fun knowing how wide-open her daughter was stretched at this very moment. She assumed since Amanda’s plug was in Retention mode that she was up and moving around the Expo; chances were, the busy woman wouldn’t have very many opportunities to experience the plug’s Expanded mode today. Honestly, a normal dilation plug would have probably worked just as well for Amanda while she worked Anal by Design’s booth at the Women’s Expo. Although, the novelty of having an expensive digital toy up both their butts was fun!

Laura closed her eyes and breathed deeper to accustom herself to the interesting sensation of being stretched past her previous maximum; it was a sensation she imagined she’d be feeling a lot over the coming weeks. When she opened them again, she felt she had the pain in her butt under mental control.

The Wilder matriarch began to look around to give herself a chance to take stock of the familiar waiting room. Not much had changed since the last time she’d been here for a checkup a year and a half or so ago. Some of the posters, handouts and advertisements had changed, but the art on the walls and the overall décor hadn’t.

She picked up one of the folding handouts on the end table next to her. This one had an image of two identical looking young women in their late twenties holding hands on the front cover. The title read ‘Do You Need a Corset?’. Laura looked again at the two women, who were identically dressed in light sundresses. Sure enough, the outline of a large anal violator lodged in her backside was clearly visible on the abdomen of the one on the right. Laura opened the pamphlet to glance at the pictures and read some of the text; mostly to pass the time until her name was called.

On the left panel, both women were turned around and holding the other’s sun dress up so that the bases of the pair’s impaling daily plugs were clearly visible. The pamphlet went on to describe that the twin sisters had worn a matching pair of five inch wide, eighteen inch long plugs to go out shopping for shoes that morning. One had worn a corset and the other hadn’t. In pictures and text, the handout went on to describe the benefits of harsh corseting in concealing the larger plugs that were the fashion these days. The right panel even had a step-by-step walkthrough on how to properly insert a five inch plug into a corseted woman. Laura’s eye’s lingered on the picture of the corseted sister’s fleshy pink and wide open asshole just before her smiling sister filled it with the black latex plug. There was a local lingerie company’s name at the bottom of the pamphlet along with a web address and a phone number.

Well, duh! Laura thought to herself as she put the bi-fold back on the table. Tell me something I don’t know!

Picking up the next one, she scanned its front. The image was an old-school, green line-only technical-like schematic of what appeared to be a woman’s intestinal tract filled with a large fuzzy mass that she assumed to be a plug. This one was titled, ‘Certified Capacity™ developed by Anal Dynamics Inc.’ Flipping it open, Laura scanned the informational document about using advanced mathematical modeling and proprietary algorithms to determine the maximum size of dildo that could be physically inserted.

Interesting, she thought. Although I’m sure Dave has already had me open to the largest size my body can physically take. I don’t need some geeky engineer telling me that I’ve already reached my maximum; I can feel it quite well enough when I get there, thank you very much!

“Ever thought about having yourself checked out for that?” said a voice to the side. Laura looked up from her reading to note an attractive blonde woman sitting on the other side of the end table from her. She looked to be about the same age as Laura, but not quite as stacked in the curves department; although she made up for it by obviously being a workout junkie.

“Pardon?” Laura answered at the unexpected small talk.

“The Certified Capacity,” said the other woman, holding up the same pamphlet Laura was flipping through. “My husband and I have been seeing advertisements for it lately and I was asking if you’d ever considered it. I’m Sandy, by the way. Please to meet you,” she continued holding out her hand.

“Laura,” she answered, shaking the offered hand, “and no, I haven’t,” she said, putting the handout back on the end table.

“I’m certain I am too, but Mark – my husband – wanted me to come in and have the screening done anyway. I think he just wants the validation that he’s doing a good job with my wellbeing, to be honest,” Sandy said, continuing the [mostly] one-sided conversation.

Laura was slightly taken aback by the other woman’s forwardness to a complete stranger. Discussions of such personal information were best left to the family, close friends, and the medical community.

She was about to politely attempt to back herself out of the idle chitchat when a pleasant soprano announcement came: “Wilder? Laura Wilder?”

Saved by the proverbial bell, Laura thought. She looked up and saw a pretty brunette nurse with a medical tablet standing in the half open door leading to the clinic’s back area. Laura raised her hand to gain attention, made eye contact to let the nurse know she had heard her name called, gathered up her purse, and bid her two youngest daughters – who were still trying their best not to be too obvious while gawking at the bubbly receptionist – a quick goodbye. Smiling apologetically at Sandy, she got up and made her way towards the waiting nurse.

As she did so, her Dilation Master XXL sensed that she was in motion again and obediently shrank back to its Retention mode; a healthy five and three quarter inches wide. Laura heard the notification sound from her phone in her purse as it did so.

“Good luck in there,” she heard Sandy comment as she walked away.

“You too,” she answered; glad to be away from her.

As she approached the thirty-something nurse, she allowed her eyes to assess the attractive woman. She wore the same white, skin-tight, ultra-low cut uniform that Georgiana wore, although she didn’t fill out the bust area quite as spectacularly. Not to say she was flat chested. Hardly! Laura’s expert eyes estimated that her impressive bosom was very close to her own; somewhere in the 34FF or 36EE range. While Laura considered herself blessed in the tits department, some women – like the astonishingly dumb yet equally over-endowed Georgiana – hand her beat hands down.

Just below her assigned nurse’s womanly gifts, the uniform had a built-in, white, patent-leather corset that compressed and shaped her waist perfectly, while at the same time uplifted and pressed her breasts together to produce a glorious amount of cleavage. The corset, combined with the garment’s low cut front, shaped the nurse’s breasts into mouthwatering, fleshy orbs high on her chest and allowed just the hint of bottom boob to display as the cleavage separated just before the blouse finally came together. Laura had to resist the urge to bury her face in the pretty woman’s chest and motorboat to her heart’s content.

Moving down from there, her wide, shapely hips filled out and complimented her voluptuous figure beautifully. Just below them, the uniform’s tight skirt finally ended a few inches above her knees to reveal white stocking encased legs which ended in five or six inch white, patent-leather high heeled shoes that matched the corset perfectly.

The end result was that Laura couldn’t decide if the woman looked more like an incredibly sexy, yet professional, nurse or a leather-clad seraphim come down from on high. In actuality, it didn’t really matter; the woman was a knockout! Though, while Laura didn’t recognize this particular nurse, she was glad that the uniforms hadn’t changed since her last visit; she’d always been fond of them. She actually had her own nursing uniform somewhere back in her closet at home; she’d bought it for Dave as an anniversary present a decade or so ago as he’d liked the uniforms just as much as she did.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wilder,” the angelic beauty said extending her free hand to Laura, “I’m Nurse Melissa and I’ll be your assigned nurse for this morning’s procedure.” The wide smile and bright gray eyes that went along with the greeting sold Laura on her mental image of this Melissa as a heavenly being.

“Hello, Nurse Melissa,” Laura replied taking the woman’s soft hand in her own and shaking it firmly. “And please, call me Laura.”

“It would be a pleasure, Laura. First names are so much better than all that normal formality, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more, Melissa!”

“Now if you’ll follow me to the examination room,” she said as she stepped back to open the door completely for Laura to enter. Laura smiled back and stepped through the portal to follow the enchanting, leather-clad nurse and almost ran into a young, blond nurse on her way out.

“Hey!” the blonde in a matching uniform said in surprise.

Although the uniform was where the similarities ended between the two nurses. While Melissa was tall and curvaceous, this new nurse was on the short side and obviously very muscular. Laura’s nurse had breasts almost the size of her own, while Blondie had much smaller, but still respectable, D cups; by Laura’s expert estimation. Most importantly, Melissa had a beautiful, warm, friendly face, the other nurse’s was attractive – undoubtedly – yet cold and detached.

“My fault entirely,” Laura replied. “I just couldn’t take my eyes off of your delightful coworker, Melissa, over there,” she said with a quick wink towards the giggling brunette. Laura couldn’t help herself but join her nurse in a soft chuckle.

“You mean Nurse Melissa, ma’am,” the blond said sternly, sucking all levity out of the situation. “Apology accepted. Please be mindful to watch where you’re going; there’s a lot of sensitive equipment around here!” she added and turned back towards the door to continue her mission.

Subdued slightly in their schoolgirl-esque giggling, Laura and Melissa turned to head towards the waiting examination room. As they began walking down the hall, Laura quietly inquired, “What’s up her butt?”

“Whatever it is, it’s nowhere big enough, I can assure you,” Melissa said equally as quietly, but still smiling. “Don’t worry. That’s just ‘Nurse’ Lana; she treats everyone that way. All business, that one!”

“Ah… So you’re saying she just needs a proper fucking then?” Laura asked with a mischievous smile.

“Don’t we all?” Melissa questioned back with her own roguish grin, and then started giggling again.

Laura found her nurse’s laughter quite endearing. “Yes. Yes, I believe we all do,” she answered, giggling herself.

“Cora and Emily Wilder?” came an announcement from behind her. Laura turned her head to get a better, quick glance at this ‘Nurse’ Lana – who would evidently be performing the physicals on her daughters – and did a double take at what she saw. Stopping abruptly in her tracks, she snapped her head back around to Melissa – who had continued to walk a few paces before noticing that Laura had quit walking next to her- to look at the brunette nurse from this new angle.

While, from the front, the nurses’ uniforms looked identical to the ones they’d been wearing for years here at the Dermott Clinic, the backs had a slight, but significant, modification. The tight skirt now had a circular cutout that went from mid-buttock to mid thigh to reveal the white garters extending from the base of their corsets to the tops of their lacey, white stockings; and the bases of the sizable, black latex plugs buckled securely in place deep within their rectums by their white leather plug-straps and tiny, stainless steel padlocks.

The ebony colored plugs were the only non-white element of their entire ensemble; which made the contrast all that much more profound.

“Oh my! That’s new!” was all Laura could get out past her astonishment at the nurses’ scandalous outfits.

“Oh. The cutouts?” Melissa said looking over her shoulder at the swell of her full bottom. “Yeah, they’re relatively new here. The Dermott’s decided to update our dress code about a year ago to keep pace with the newest trends in the medical community,” she said matter-of-factly. “The idea is that we’re all adults and medical professionals here, so we should be the last people to be ashamed of our anal training. Kind of a ‘Lead by Example’ mentality.

“Actually, these modifications are based on a popular Italian design that’s getting pretty common over in Europe. That being said, it took quite a while to get used to being on full display like this,” she added with slight embarrassment. “This dress may be borderline passé in Rome or Paris or Milan, but it could get a girl arrested for indecency here in the States. Needless to say, we don’t wear these out in public!” she added emphatically.

“My goodness,” Laura finally said as she rediscovered her ability to walk once again – her momentary concern about the sternness of the nurse assigned to her daughters forgotten by the shock of the new nursing uniforms – and started following Melissa down the hall; eye’s welded to the nurse’s well shaped bottom and the base of the obviously large plug locked inside it as they walked. “Am I getting that old and out-dated?” she asked the younger woman.

“No. Of course not!” Melissa said as she glanced backwards to run her own eyes up and down Laura’s body appraisingly. Her patient filled out every curve of her deep blue business skirt suit like it was a comfortable second skin. The slightly older woman moved with a cat-like grace that made walking around on six inch spiked heels look almost trivial; and the way the redheaded cougar’s hips swayed as she walked… Melissa licked her lips in complete approval.

“You look splendid! It’s just that culture changes slowly; especially here in America. You have to remember: we’re all basically descendants of immigrant pilgrims who were so uptight and religiously conservative that the British – of all people – kicked them out,” she said with a smile. “Give us a generation or two and we’ll catch up to those hoity-toity Europeans.

“Of course, God only knows what they’ll be up to in another thirty or forty years!” she added as both women again giggled softly.

“No kidding! A conservative little black dress in Paris will probably consist of nothing but an enormous butt plug, nipple clamps and a few feet of dental floss!” Laura said as she laughed.

“Now that would be interesting to wear!” Melissa said as she mentally pictured the beautiful woman before her in the described outfit. The thought made her bald, and not very well hidden, pussy moisten noticeably.

“Ah, here we are: Room 34B,” the pretty brunette nurse said as she directed Laura into the examination room. “If you’d please disrobe, we can get started with a few cleansing enemas,” Melissa said as she ushered Laura into the room and closed the soundproof glass door.

“Would you like me to help you undress?” she asked hopefully.

“That would be lovely, Melissa,” Laura answered wholeheartedly as her fingers began working the buttons to her form-fitting business suit’s jacket.

Melissa’s smile broadened and she crossed the room to the undressing older woman and kneeled down to unzip the tight, deep blue skirt that matched the suit’s jacket. Despite her familiarity with the position, she couldn’t help but grunt softly as the massive plug locked into her nether hole repositioned itself inside her body and smashed into the base of her lungs.

“Problems, Melissa?” Laura asked – knowing full well what had elicited the quiet grunt – as her jacket came off and she began working on her white silk blouse.

“No, ma’am,” Melissa replied unzipping Laura’s skirt. With a quickness that she hoped didn’t give away her desire to get the other woman naked, the skirt came down and she had her first glance at the base of the anal violator buried deep within her charge’s well-toned bottom. As the latex base came into full view while she slid the skirt down Laura’s muscular legs, she puckered her lips as its true size registered. This woman’s anal wellbeing was well taken care of.

Melissa wondered who her patient’s current keeper was; Laura’s medical records indicated that she was a widow. Yup, I’ll be needing our extra-large equipment this morning, Melissa commented to herself with cool, professional consideration. Good! I was hoping that would be the case! She was about to unbuckle the massive latex plug from its hiding place before she noticed the small padlock on Laura’s dildo strap’s buckle.

“Um… Laura, I hope you have the key for this.” Not that it really mattered all that much; there were lock cutters in the drawer for just such occasions. Forgetting the key to a locked dildo strap was a daily occurrence here. It was an honest and innocent mistake a lot of women made.

“Oh! Of course. It’s in my purse. If you could be kind enough to fetch it for me?” Laura asked politely as she finished unbuttoning her blouse and shrugged it off her shoulder to reveal the strong, red velvet, boned corset underneath. The expensively constructed lingerie incorporated full cups to support and display her beautiful 34FF rack to maximum effect.

It would actually have been easier for Laura herself to retrieve the key, but she loved hearing the pretty brunette grunting in discomfort as her plug shifted around.

“Of course!” Melissa replied happily as she stood up to fetch her patient’s purse; managing to come within inches of the swell of Laura’s, mostly hidden, tit meat in the process. As she did so, the wide rectal dilator fastened deep within her bowels went about rearranging her internal organs as it repositioned itself. Laura was not disappointed at the soft sound of pleasure mixed with pain that escaped Melissa’s lips; exactly at breast level!

* * *

“Nurse Lana, what’s your button all about?” Cora asked as she watched the physically powerful blonde nurse strap her sister down to a gynecological chair identical to her own.

“Oh this thing? It’s for some ridiculous promotion we have to wear for one of our suppliers,” she responded.

The button read:

Hi, I’m Nurse [ Lana ]

Ask me about my Certified Capacity.

I’m [ 69% ] there!

Certified Capacity™ developed by Anal Dynamics Inc.

“It says we’re supposed to ask you about your ‘Certified Capacity’. So may we ask, Nurse Lana?” Emily inquired, following her sister’s lead.

“No. No, you may not,” Lana snapped.

She was actually pretty embarrassed about her paltry sixty nine percent achievement and didn’t like to talk about it; it was the lowest of any nurse working at the clinic. In actuality, she wouldn’t even be that far along if it weren’t for the numerous anal workshops the Dermotts insisted their nursing staff attended after hours. Lana wasn’t particularly interested in her own anal training; she merely endured as little of it as she could in order to keep her position here at the Dermott Clinic secure. Lana didn’t come from what polite society considered a ‘proper’ upbringing. Her mother had always been too busy whoring it up to teach her daughters much of anything; and she didn’t even know who her father was. The fact that a woman who didn’t like anal penetration at all worked for a clinic specializing in the anal wellbeing of women throughout the community was one of Lana’s life’s great ironies.

“Lana…” began Emily again, but was interrupted by a sharp slap to the underside of her naked right breast.


“Please, Emily,” the blonde said disapprovingly, “I’ve asked you before: Call me ‘Nurse’ Lana. Professionalism has to be maintained here!” she added, glaring down at the buck naked, and tightly bound, eighteen year-old.

Emily stared up at the blonde nurse in surprise. Their mother never mentioned anything about spanking being involved during a checkup; butt, breast, or any other kind.

“‘Nurse’ Lana, do all the patients get restrained like this,” questioned Emily carefully as the heavy-handed nurse finished tightly securing the thick band of leather across the top of her chest; securing her to the adjustable gynecological chair. Having only recently become of age, and having never received a proper checkup, Emily was naturally curious about the procedures employed by the clinic.

“Of course, Emily,” Lana replied reassuringly as she collected the eighteen year-old’s wrists to buckle them into the waiting cuffs just above and behind the bound girl’s head. Emily had to bend her elbows about ninety degrees and stretch slightly for Lana to securely bind her arms out of the way.

“We don’t treat anyone of our patients any more special than the next one,” the cool and collected young nurse continued as she went about checking and retightening this strap and that.

“How long do we stay in these chairs, ‘Nurse’ Lana?” Cora asked curiously from her identically bound position in her own chair on the other side of the dual patient examination room. Both chairs where at a forty five degree offset from the other; pointing directly at the soundproof glass door – which also meant directly out into the well-etravelled hallway.

“How long? Well, you’ll be secured to your MGCs for the remainder of your physicals; which should take about an hour or two; depending on how much work we need to do with you,” Lana said helpfully as she stood back, wiped the thin layer of sweat from her brow, and admired her handiwork.

The perspiration annoyed her. Lana knew why the clinic’s ambient air temperature was kept fairly warm: For the comfort of their naked and restrained clientele. Not that she approved in the slightest! Tightly bound women were in no position to complain about anything; anything at all. Cooler air would have made for much stiffer nipples on her patients; which in turn would have made for much more effective tit slaps when they inevitably misbehaved. No, Lana did not understand the Dermott Clinic’s owners’ – Doctors Nick and Veronica – insistence on the comfort of their patients. Surely, the comfort of their dedicated staff was of far greater importance!

Resuming her inspection: Each naked girl was secured to one of the clinic’s standard MGC units: Multi-purpose Gynecological Chair. In addition to their secured arms and upper chest straps, lower straps were firmly buckled below the girls’ breasts, leaving the abdominal region free of anything that would only get in the way of the myriad procedures available here at the Dermott Women’s Clinic. Cora and Emily’s legs were bent ninety degrees at the knee and securely bound to the chair’s adjustable legs; these were already positioned so that the girls’ legs were pulled up and apart and their knees were almost six inches on either side of their toned stomachs.

The chairs were currently inclined at a comfortable forty-five degrees. This was the best angle to initially secure a female to them; as well as conduct the cleansing enemas that were always the first step in any procedure conducted by the clinic. The seat portions of the device were actually mounted on a pivot with a nearly one hundred and eighty degree range of motion. The patient could be positioned anywhere from head up ass down, to ass up head down, depending on the requirements of the procedure that needed to be applied.

The positioning of the MGC spread all of a woman’s lower holes open for examination while the restraints permitted rigorous procedures to be performed without the [unnecessary] help of the patient. While the extreme spreading was primarily intended to provide unrestricted access to the anal region, both Emily and Cora’s pussies were also pulled wide enough open to display the pink, wet folds of their inner flesh; their arousal clearly visible in the room’s bright light.

While there were many companies producing MGCs these days, the Dermott Clinic had secured a contract a few years ago with a smaller, locally owned company called Anal by Design to replace all of their aging MGCs – as well as their numerous attachments and optional equipment – with newer, top-of-the-line models. Lana was happy with the decision by the Dermotts to go with Anal by Design because she actually knew the co-owner, Amanda Wilder, from college. Humiliating, degrading and basically doing everything in her power to increase the woman’s pain and suffering had been one of the highlights of her college career.

Wait! Amanda Wilder? Wilder! Cora and Emily… Wilder? thought Lana as she quickly scanned her two charges’ records on her medical tablet; the significance of their last name dawning on her at last. Holy shit! What are the odds of that! she said to herself as a fresh, evil smile grew across her face. Sure enough, the family field on their medical records read: Cora and Emily Wilder. Siblings: Naomi, Mary, and… Amanda! Lana knew there was a reason she’d gotten up this morning!

“So it says here that you’re the kid sisters of Amanda Wilder. Is that correct?” Lana asked finally glancing up from her tablet.

“Yeah,” Cora after a second.

“Why?” asked Emily.

Lana only laughed softly. “Wow. Talk about coincidence! I went to college with Amanda years ago! We were actually really good friends, even though I was in the medical track and she was in engineering,” she lied. “We even had a few classes together and partied about every other weekend.”

(Translation: We never spoke outside of the one medical trial that we both participated in, and I really loved taking advantage of her. Now I need you two to trust me completely so that I can do the same to her kid sisters!)

“Really?” both girls said in unison, their curiosity peaked. “I really don’t remember Amanda being that much of a party girl,” Emily finished.

“Oh, she was,” Lana said, weaving her lie expertly. “Those engineering-type people are pretty uptight most of the time, but get a few drinks in them and wow! They’re a hoot!” And by that I mean boring, Lana reminded herself.

“Nursing students however… well… we’re a naturally sociable group. It’s no wonder the engineers wanted to party with us,” she said as her mind relived a few of the more… interesting… moments of her college career.

“You don’t need to tell your mother or sister about that though. We wouldn’t want to get your big sister in trouble, now would we,” she added smiling as best she could at the two young women. She could feel them warming up to her. Excellent…

“We actually had most of our fun during a class for a clinical trial for Formula 24 that the campus was running. I was her assigned nursing student. I think we both got college credit out of it; or something like that.”

“She never told us about that,” Cora said, obviously wanting Lana to explain what a clinical trial consists of.

“No she didn’t,” Emily added, working in concert with her sister to try and pry some more details on a heretofore unknown chapter of their big sister’s college days out of their nurse.

“Well, it basically starts off with a machine called an Anal Agitator,” Lana said as she began explaining the only truthful part of her college experience. As she did so, she reached behind herself to pull out a pair of latex gloves from the dispenser built into her butt plug.

While she began pulling the gloves on, Emily stopped her in mid sentence. “Okay, wait a second, La… ‘Nurse’ Lana. Where did the gloves come from?” she asked.

Lana stopped her reminiscing in annoyance. “It’s not nice to interrupt people!” she said as she delivered three sharp slaps to the underside of each of Emily’s perky tits. Emily yipped slightly as the first blow fell, and then rode out the remaining impacts in silence.

Despite herself, Emily was too much like her mother not to enjoy the rough treatment of her breasts; unexpected as it was.

For Lana’s part, she couldn’t wait until Cora started screwing up. The much larger breasts the elder sister sported were just begging for harsh punishment!

As she finished her impromptu corporal reprimand of the younger sister, she realized that these two girls were new and didn’t know about some of her uniform’s more interesting features. “The gloves you were asking about? Well, all the nurses’ plugs have a latex glove dispenser built into them. That way we’re never far from them when they’re needed,” she explained. To emphasize her point, she turned around and bent over to give the two young women an unobstructed view of her painfully plugged ass and her perpetually moist vaginal lips, which were fully exposed just underneath. Two fingers of the next glove protruded from the hole in the base of her sizeable plug; ready for dispensing.

“You should be proud,” she went on as she stood back up and turned around – a small grunt escaping her lips as she did so. “Your sister’s company designed them; along with the MGCs you’re strapped to right now.”

“Really?” asked the girls in unison.

“Oh yes. Her company designed a lot of the equipment you’ll soon be experiencing here at the clinic,” Lana continued. “You should really compliment her on her creativity and ingenuity!” she said sincerely. Lana had no problem giving praise where praise was due.

“Now hush up so I can tell my story and get your dilation disks installed for your first set of enemas.”

Dilation disks were basically inch thick plates of latex with a groove along the edge and holes in the center. The groove was for a woman’s sphincter to rest in and the holes were for inlet and outlet enema hoses to be attached to. As was standard practice, each of the eighteen year-olds were soon fitted with a disk equal to the size of the daily plug they had entered the clinic with: Three and a quarter inches for Emily and four and a quarter inches for Cora.

As Lana went on to describe, in vivid details, how their big sister had been anally pulverized by the Agitators every week, Cora and Emily listened with great interest. She only had to embellish Amanda’s enjoyment a little to keep them spell-bound. They were so caught up in the story that the only sounds they made were the occasional moan or groan as Lana inserted the thick disks into their anuses and then worked the long inlet hoses deep into the girls’ rectal tracts for their high colonic enemas.

* * *

“Pretty cool addition to our uniform, huh?” Melissa asked as she stood up and turned around to put her latex gloves on.

While Laura had found her nurse’s plug to be an interesting storage space for office supplies, she’d already discussed their design with Amanda a few years ago while they were being developed. The plugs themselves were actually hollowed out along their entire length. The inner walls of the plugs were reinforced by a harder plastic to make up for the lack of a solid core of latex. The mouths of the plugs were threaded so that any number of ‘covers’ could be screwed in. The base model was a simple lid to secure items inside the rectal cavity. Amanda’s initial idea was to incorporate the plugs into swimwear so that women would have a secure place to store their valuables while at the beach. The design with a lockable lid came next; so that the valuables stored inside the woman’s body were even more secure.

From there, Amanda had conceived many variations on this basic theme: purse, toiletry container, small suitcase, wine cooler, soda can dispenser, massage oil dispenser… by now, Anal by Design had hundreds of options available to their customers, all stemming from the same basic design. As such, a latex glove dispenser was less of a novelty to Laura than it probably should have been to someone who had never actually seen the model before.

“Yes, they are,” she answered. “What won’t they think of next?” Laura had been more interested in trying to judge the diameter of the plug sealed within her new friend’s rectum but had been distracted by the sight of the nurse’s cleanly shaven, and visibly dripping, pussy lips. Laura unconsciously licked her own lips with curiosity as she wondered how the pretty brunette tasted; probably not as good as Emily; but then again, nobody did.

Pulling up and taking a seat on a nearby stool at last, Melissa grimaced as her full weight came to rest on the plug embedded deeply in her rectum. She used her weight to pull the stool closer to her patient, situating herself between Laura’s widely spread legs and holes. Laura smiled down at her pleasantly.

Pumping some pre-warmed lubricating gel onto her latex-clad hands from the MGC’s dispenser, Melissa admired the widely gaping hole leading into the depths of Laura’s abdomen. With the lubricant evenly distributed up to her wrists, she wasted no time in sinking both hands up Laura’s backside. Laura groaned in pleasure at the intrusion into her previously empty hole. While not technically a part of the procedure, Melissa just had to put something up Laura’s amazing asshole. She made sure the impromptu fisting was a quick one as she breathed deeply from the older woman’s growing musk of arousal. Not that Laura would ever complain about her breach of protocol.

Trying to regain some of her professional composure, Melissa said, “I’m just lubing you up a little so I can install your dilation ring.” Regretfully, she removed her hands from the stretchy chasm and began massaging the lubricant into the rectal sphincter like she was supposed to. This was accomplished by taking the ring of loose muscle between fingers and thumbs and rubbing firmly in circular motions all around its perimeter. She allowed this process to last a little longer than it was supposed to, but Laura seemed to be enjoying it; the older woman’s cruelly restrained hips where moving in small circles around her working fingers.

This first stage complete, Melissa picked up the selected five and three quarter inch dilation ring and began to press it home passed Laura’s recently massaged sphincter. Despite the obvious training that asshole had undergone in the past, getting any disk this size secured into a woman’s bottom took skill and patience.

Looking down between her restrained and widely spread legs, past her equally spread and now clearly leaking cunt, Laura watched the brunette nurse as she secured the wide dilation disk into her well stretched sphincter. The bound redhead was enjoying the sight of her brunette nurse’s large tits being pressed together and kneaded delectably by her biceps as she worked. It was then that she noticed the button pinned to the front of the nurse’s lapel. It read:

Hi, I’m Nurse [ Melissa ]

Ask me about my Certified Capacity.

I’m [ 90% ] there!

Certified Capacity™ developed by Anal Dynamics Inc.

Certified Capacity? Laura thought. That’s what I was reading about in the lobby. Deciding to bite on the hook of shameless advertising, she asked: “So you’re ninety percent there, huh?”

“Hmm?” the distracted woman asked initially. Then, looking down at her swelling chest and remembering her button, “Oh! Yes: ninety percent,” she said proudly. Then, “Damn it!” as she accidently pushed the dilation disk all the way through Laura’s sphincter and into her colon, causing the bound woman to jump at the unexpected penetration of her bottom hole. “Sorry about that, these things are tricky.” It was an easy task to turn the disk sideways, extract it, and try again.

“But yes, my maximum capacity is now ninety percent of my Certified Capacity,” Melissa said as she again started to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Which means what in inches?”

“Umm… Oh, sorry. I’m distracted. Six inches is my current maximum dilation; six and three quarters is my Certified diameter. Have you ever had your Certified Capacity tested?”

“Six and three quarters? Wow, honey! That’s pretty big!” Laura said in amazement as she took a second look at the nurse’s figure. She couldn’t quite imagine something so massive being shoved up the pretty brunette’s backside without a hospital visit to follow immediate afterwards. “And no I haven’t. I’ve read a little bit about it though.”

“Well, it’s fairly new. You can read all about the science behind it online, but they basically take elasticity measurements, age, family history, body type, x-rays, MRIs, and a few other data, feed it all into a program developed by the tech wienies over at Anal Dynamics, and bam! The maximum size you can be dilated to before risking serious injury.

“Got it!” proclaimed Melissa suddenly as the thick dilation disk seated itself correctly inside Laura’s stretched anus. Laura jumped slightly as she was once again stretched to the size of today’s daily plug. She had to admit that the sensation of having just her asshole widely expanded while the rest of her rectum was basically empty was odd; but then again it always was when the nurses at the Dermott Clinic preformed the necessary high colonic cleansing enemas.

“And you’d be surprised at the calculated diameters the Certified Capacity program come up with, Laura. Someone with your beautiful bottom and stretchy sphincter? Why, I’d honestly be shocked if it calculated anything less than seven whole inches!”

“Seven inches! Melissa, don’t toy with me. That’s huge!” Laura commented seriously. For all her late-husband’s efforts to ensure his loving wife was properly cared for and experienced a deep fulfillment in their relationship – which translated into ever-increasing, and increasingly painful, anal penetrations – Laura hadn’t really come all that close to a seven inch dilation. To hear the possibility that her anal opening could be stretched to that extreme sounded preposterous!

“Well, we’re a registered Anal Dynamics partner. We can schedule you in for a screening as part of your physical, if you’d like,” the brunette nurse said with a twinkle in her eye. “Personally, I’m really interested in finding out what science says we can fit up inside you,” she added as she caressed the bound redhead’s bottom around the perimeter of the installed dilation disk.

“I don’t know,” said the busty, reclining woman. “Is it really all that accurate?”

“It has a great track record so far,” Melissa said encouragingly. “You’ve met out perky receptionist, Georgiana, right?”

“She’s hard to miss,” Laura replied dryly.

“Well, she’s one of the youngest women in the country to have reached her Certified Capacity,” Melissa stated proudly. “Of course, the rich little tart spent almost eighteen months in a Spanish anal expansion clinic on the Mediterranean to accomplish it, but it’s still impressive none the less. Would you like a demonstration?”

“A demonstration? What’s involved in that?” Laura inquired skeptically

“Well, since she spent so much effort expanding herself, she prefers to be kept dilated to the maximum at all times. That’s one of the reasons she’s just a receptionist – well, that and she’s as dumb as a box of rocks – instead of a nurse. Being a nurse means being on your feet all the time. With the sizes we’re talking about, that just isn’t possible.”

“You’re telling me that the blonde bombshell manning your front desk is mounted on some kind of maximum – “Certified” – capacity dildo? Oh, this I have to see!”

“I’ll arrange it!” Melissa said as she tapped a request into her tablet.

* * *

Lana had just finished describing how much fun she had had wheeling their oldest sister around campus with a maximum capacity dilation dildo working copious amounts of F-24 into her tenderized anal cavity. She found it particularly arousing that she’d now had the pleasure of playing with three of the Wilder girls’ defenseless butts. Who knows, she thought; if karma keeps up like this, I may get through the whole family! But playtime was over – it was time to get back to the serious work.

“I’m sure you’ve had high colonic enemas before at home, girls,” Lana went on as she finished feeding the thin, thirty six inch inlet tube deep into Emily’s squirming backside, “But here at the Dermott Clinic, we believe in very high colonic enemas to clean our patients out .”

Cora had already been hooked up to the plumbing before Lana had started on Emily. Now with both young women ready to go, the sadistic nurse stepped back and brought up the MGCs’ controls on her medical tablet. She knew, coming from the same mother as the legendary Amanda Wilder, that the two youngest Wilders could probably take a bit higher pressure than a normal cleansing enema called for. Bringing up the MGC’s enema attachment’s settings screen on the tablet, she keyed in the supervisor’s override code – that she wasn’t supposed to have – and unlocked the higher pressure levels. Whistling a happy tune, Lana set the enema pressure for thirty percent over the allowed maximum, adjusted the temperature to its highest safe level, and pressed the Execute button. She then stood back to watch the show as the girls’ abdomens began to fill with water.

“I realize this is your first time for a checkup here at the Dermott Clinic, so I’ve selected a medium pressure level for your cleansing enemas. I wouldn’t want you two to feel too uncomfortable on your first visit; we want you to come back to us, after all,” Lana said with an evil smirk.

“Thanks, ‘Nurse’ Lana,” Cora said sincerely as she felt the rising pressure in her guts as the water continued to flow in, but not out.

“You’re welcome. If you’d like, I can set it up in the system so that you come to me on each of your visits in the future. Since I have such a long history with your sister, I’ll be sure to take excellent care of you two.”

“That would be great,” Cora said as the pressure slowly built up.

“Excellent! I just need your thumb prints on the request forms,” Lana said as she moved behind the MGCs to collect her new assigned playthings’ agreements; sealing their fates for their futures at the Dermott Clinic.

“Now just sit back and relax and let the enemas clean you out.”

Cora and Emily were still getting used to the odd sensations of water filling their colons from depths that almost reached their small intestines, when they started to notice the unexpected heat that was creeping into their guts. They soon discovered first hand that Lana had set the temperature of the flow to almost scalding.

“Could you turn the temperature down a little bit, Lana?” Cora asked as she squirmed in futility at her bonds; trying to escape the water that was rushing into her colon. “I think you have it a little bit too hot.”

Lana smiled happily as she stepped over to the black haired beauty, who was helplessly bound and defenseless, only to deliver half a dozen hard, open-handed slaps to the underside of the girl’s round, young 34Ds; three to each breast. She kept the spacing of her strikes far enough apart to give herself ample time to admire the athletic beauty’s boobs as they rippled and danced under the solid impacts.

Cora cried out in surprise as the blows landed.

“That’s ‘Nurse’ Lana, my pretty little patient!” she scolded firmly. “I swear! Did your mother not teach you any respect for authority figures?” she added, shaking her head sadly as she idly played with Cora’s now very stiff nipples.

“And of course the water is a little warm! Whoever heard of a cold enema doing any good for anybody?”

“I’m sorry, ‘Nurse’ Lana!” Cora said quickly, fearing more slaps to her tender breasts. “But please, ‘Nurse’ Lana, just turn the temperature down a tiny bit?”

“Nonsense, girl! I’d be remiss in my duties if I did that,” the sadistic blonde said, giving Cora’s nipples a good, final pinch. “Now be good little patients and let the enemas clean out those dirty asses yours. I’m beginning to wonder if either one of you has ever received a proper enema in your entire lives.”

Properly mollified, the youngest Wilder sisters sat silently as their bellies filled with hot water. Lana walked round and round the pair observing the readings on her medical tablet and watching the two teenage stomachs begin to bloat noticeably.

It took less than a minute for the preset pressure to be achieved and the outlet ports begin to empty the slightly dirty water out of the bound young women. However, the inlet ports continued to pump water in at the same rate that water was being allowed to exit, so the pressure was maintained at a constant level. The heat from the scalding enemas was causing the pair to turn red and begin perspiring all over their bodies as their internal temperatures began to spike.

Cora first, followed quickly by Emily, began to moan quietly at the intense flushing. The corner of Lana’s lips twitched with pleasure at the two eighteen year-olds’ suffering.

Laying her tablet aside, the toned nurse stepped between the suffering girls and placed a hand on each of their sweaty tits. Her fingers found their hard nipples and began rolling them harshly between index finger and thumb. This only amplified the moans escaping the two severely bound young women as the new and painful sensations emanating from their boiling colons mixed with the familiar pain being inflicted on their nipples; pain their bodies knew how to process. Lana wasn’t surprised at all to see both women’s hips begin to gyrate slowly despite their blistering, high-pressure enemas.

“See? I think you’re both starting to enjoy yourselves,” Lana said as her hands moved to the other two neglected nipples to continue administering her agonizing areola manipulation.

“How… How long does this last?” asked Emily, and immediately braced herself as she realized, too late, that she forgot to properly address the strict nurse.

A dozen, slow, firm slaps rained down on Emily’s and then Cora’s exposed and defenseless tits. Lana took her time delivering each blow; ensuring her aim was perfectly placed.

“How many times do I have to remind you both?” the blonde nurse asked in exasperation as her blows fell. She took her time and reveled in the sight of the firm, teenage tits jiggling from the powerful impacts. “It’s ‘Nurse’ Lana! From now one, if one of you forgets, both of you suffer the consequences! And it was only scheduled for fifteen minutes, but I think you’ve earned yourselves an extra five.”

Cora looked like she was about to protest, but stopped herself short.

“Did you have something to say, young lady?” Lana asked sternly as she resumed the firm rolling of the girls’ tender nubs.

“No, ‘Nurse’ Lana!” Cora said quickly.

“I didn’t think so,” the certified bitch said as she concentrated on playing with the girls’ stinging tits.

God! Emily thought to herself. I think I hate going to the doctor’s office!

* * *

“Well, that was just lovely,” Laura said as the last of the lukewarm water drained from her squeaky clean colon. “I’ve always found the high colonics given here to be a bit uncomfortable, but I really enjoyed yours!”

“Why thank you!” beamed Melissa. “I’ve had a lot of practice over the years; if you hadn’t noticed,” said the flirty nurse as she curtsied slightly and motioned with her hands at the white nurse’s uniform she had virtually painted onto her curvy body.

“Oh! You’re a nurse!” Laura said equally as flirtatiously. “I hadn’t discerned that,” she added and started to giggle.

“Well, if you’d stop staring at my rack long enough to notice my whole outfit, you might have made the connection before now!” Melissa said, joining the older woman in her musical laughter.

“But I like your tits,” Laura said defensibly. “They’re gorgeous and all but popping out of your dress. What’s not to like?”

“Yours are pretty stunning too,” Melissa responded as she gently pinched the closest nipple of the severely bound redhead.

Laura’s breath sucked in quickly at the soft touch; her back arching to give the nurse better access; not that she achieved much as restrained to the MGC as she was. “If you’re going to do that, baby, do it right,” Laura demanded in her best ‘smoldering temptress’ voice.

“Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am. Is this more to your liking, ma’am?” Melissa asked as she reached over and took both hard nipples in her fingers and rolled them around cruelly.

“That’s better,” the reclining cougar cooed as she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations coming from her favorite pain points.

Melissa swore she could visibly see her patient’s already well lubricated pussy grow wetter still. She made a mental note of the apparent way that Laura liked her nipples treated; information like that could come in handy down the road.

“Ahem,” coughed the sweet brunette nurse. Reluctantly, she released the large, pink nubs from her grasp and tried to interject a shred of professionalism back into the room; an attempt which failed utterly. “Let’s get that disk out of you so we can move on to the next phase,” she said as she crouched down and started removing hoses; grunting audibly as she did so.

“More problems?” asked Laura playfully in response to the soft sound of discomfort.

“No, it’s just,” Melissa started to answer, before she realized she was being toyed with. Playfully, she swatted the widely spread woman on the inner thigh; inches from the dripping cunt that was at her eye level.

Laura jumped slightly at the swat; replying, “Hey!” and smiling.

Having gotten her point across, Melissa returned her attention to extracting the five and three quarter inch dilation disk from her patient’s relaxed anal ring; a process much easier than installing it in the first place. With a soft, wet sucking noise, the disk came free of the reclining woman’s asshole; leaving an impressive gaping portal, some five inches across, leading deep into the recesses her wet, pink innards. Melissa could see almost a foot into her new friend’s lightly tanned body before the folds of flesh obstructed her view.

Placing the used latex disk aside for later cleaning, Melissa picked up her next implement of rectal maintenance from the nearby counter: a huge, stainless steel speculum with four expanding blades. Squirting lubricant onto her free hand, she spread the viscous liquid evenly along the length of each blade before lining up the imposing looking tool with Laura’s still widely gaping nether hole.

Laura’s breath sucked in quickly as Melissa began pressing the cold metal of the extra large anal speculum’s expansion blades into her widespread and pre-dilated ass. Emily was right – she thought, remembering her daughter’s earlier comment from last night – there really is no other reason than pure, unadulterated sadism that nurses don’t warm these things up before shoving them into some poor woman’s backside – ice cold!

The bound woman’s reaction wasn’t lost on Melissa as she pushed even more unyielding steel into Laura’s loose rectal chute. “Sorry about that,” she said as she expertly twisted and turned the twenty inch long anal expander around the bends and past the corners of her patient’s well-stretched colon. “I honestly don’t know why we don’t warm these things up first. I guess it’s just a medieval tradition that we in the medical community feel is worth continuing.” Actually, she added silently to herself, that basically sums up the situation pretty accurately.

“Well it’s a tradition that I think is long overdue for extinction!” Laura said and gasped again as the pretty nurse worked the tips of the speculum blades past a particularly difficult spot deep within her guts.

Melissa could feel her stunning patient tensing slightly at the cold touch of the speculum’s blades. Not wanting her charge to feel uncomfortable, she let go of the half inserted tool with her lubricated hand and brought it up to begin massaging Laura’s protruding clitoris. The extra encouragement wasn’t totally necessary, and she actually rarely did it; except for in the occasional instances where her patient was freaking out or something. Melissa just wanted to ensure Laura was as relaxed as possible around her. As the bound and gaping woman’s tension quickly melted away – and Melissa hear a soft sigh of contentedness escape Laura’s lips – she knew she’d succeeded.

London, June 2, 1928

Isabella rolls her eyes as the man on top of her thrust hard for the last time as he found his release. She felt his hot, sticky seed filling her pussy. The man lay heavily on her, seeming not to notice the young woman growing bored under him. Isabella pushed against his chest and breathes deeply when he finally rolls to the side, smirking to himself.

“I’ve had better,” he said and reaches for the bottle of gin on the beautiful mahogany bedside table. The man leant back against the red velvet headboard and gazes at the room; it’s extremely grand. Though every room in the underground mansion is the same; grand, ancient and if the Vampire’s wish it…inescapable.

The bed in which he has just enjoyed Isabella is also ornately carved mahogany; the sides of the bed depict scenes of naked women dancing suggestively with mythical creatures. The sheets are deep red silk, embroidered with golden suns. The rest of room follows the same theme; blood red velvet curtains, tied open with golden ropes. A large erotically carved wardrobe stands against the wall, as a beautiful dressing table on which are numerous coloured glass bottles of perfume and scent. Painted portraits of previous owners of the room crowd the walls; every one of the women is stunningly beautiful, raven haired or golden it makes no difference…All have the same piercing gaze and the slightly glazed look of one who has lost the will to fight.

Isabella sits up slowly and looks at the man, aware of the tacky feeling on her thighs as she slips out of the bed, “Well chose someone else next time. I have four sisters.” The young woman pulls on a soft velvet dressing gown and pulls her mass of soft dark curls out so they fall gently down her back. “I’d rather you chose someone else, your cock is pitiful!”

The man coughs and sprays gin all over himself and the bed, “You what-”

However, Isabella has already swept across the room and walks out of the room, leaving her client alone. Within moments a young man grabs her wrist and glares, “Isabella!” He looks strikingly similar to Isabella with the same dark hair, piercing green eyes and ivory skin, though he has a malevolent air about him that Isabella lacks, unless provoked, “What have I told you about insulting the clients? He paid a large sum of money to fuck you and expects to be treated with respect!”

“No, he expects me to act like his cock is amazing. No doubt you saw, it was tiny and I barely felt it, Dorian!” Isabella wrenches free of his grasp, her hand goes to his throat and within half a second he is pinned to the wall. Isabella’s fangs extend and her eyes darken in anger, “My dear brother, you are a strange Vampire…Watching your sisters fuck humans,” her hand finds Dorian’s half erect cock under his beautifully tailored pants and rubs, “Do you like that?” She releases her grip on his neck.

Dorian smirks and strokes her cheek, “Ah my dear little sister…You’ve a skilled hand. So tell me sweet sister, why did the man say he’d had better?” Dorian feels his cock harden slowly under Isabella’s skilled rubbing. The young Vampire looks around to check they are alone in the corridor; the mansion is as quiet as the grave…

His sister shrugs, “Sophia glamours them into thinking she is a virgin, nearly every time. Human males seem to like the idea of being the first to explore…unchartered territory,” Isabella laughs, “Strange beings…I much prefer a mature woman.” She winks and kisses his throat, her fangs just grazing the skin.

Dorian rests his head against the wall and moans softly as her Tongue strokes over his skin, “Yes, I know of you appetites in the bedroom. Do not forget that I was the one who took your own virginity when you came of age.” He reaches out and pulls open her robe, baring her breasts to his lustful eyes. Dorian moves like lighting so Isabella is pinned to the wall rather than himself, his hands go at once to her breasts, “Your breasts were small then…but no less,” Dorian’s mouth seals around a hard nipple and sucks briefly before he answers, “delicious. If I remember rightly…I made you come by doing this,” the young Vampire Lord sinks his sharp, snow white fangs into his sister’s breast and drinks deeply. Rivulets of blood run down Isabella’s toned stomach.

The young woman moans and cradles her brother’s head as he drinks deeply, “Oh…Dorian, ah!” She smiles to herself and closes her eyes, giving herself over to the pleasure that is building between her legs, pleasure which is coming directly from her brother’s fangs. Isabella feels her brother’s tongue sweep across the bite marks, healing the wounds at once before he pulls back and kisses her deeply; the taste of her blood on his lips is the last straw…Isabella moans and comes hard; her fragrant juices soak the soft curls between her legs.

Dorian grins and kisses her deeply before whispering against her lips, “I want you…Now,” he lifts his sister up, supporting her with his hands under her thighs, “wraps your legs around me,” he demands. Isabella obeys without hesitation; her lust for her elder brother has to be sated. Dorian supports her with ease and quickly unlaces his breeches and frees his considerable length, “Now…sweet sister, what shall I do with this?” He smirks and gestures to his cock, now firmly held in his graceful hand.

Isabella, though far from being an innocent and being unable to blush due to her lack of humanity, feels warmth spread to her face and knows that had she been human, she would have blushed like a nun, “Please brother…fuck me hard! I’m your good little whore, Dorian. Fuck. Me.” She makes sure to put stress on the final words, letting her brother know that if he isn’t buried inside her in the next three seconds she will go mad from lust and desire.

Her brother gives her what she wants and thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in her exquisitely tight pussy, “Ah…My god sister, I do believe you’ve grown tighter!” Dorian groans and pulls back before thrusting deeply once more, a smirk forms on his blood stained lips, “You. Are. Mine. Sweet Sister.” He punctuates each word with a hard and sharp thrust, each of which makes Isabella cry out in pleasure.

“Oh, Bella…Can you not keep your activities to you room,” a voice mutters from behind Dorian. Isabella opens her eyes and glances behind her brother’s handsome head to see her elder sister, Katherine, who like her sisters is beautiful and ruthlessly cunning. However, Katherine is the only one of the sisters who did not go along with Dorian’s pursuit of pleasure. The others, Sophia, Amelia and Isabella succumbed to his charms and were quickly intoxicated then drawn into Dorian’s depraved world. Perhaps Katherine avoided this fate because, unlike her sisters, she was older than Dorian and by the time the young Lord had begun to realise his own charm, she had already become infatuated with another woman and had no desire to bed her younger brother for his pleasure. Katherine shakes her head and sighs, “Now I remember why I do not visit the main estate often! Honestly, fucking your brother in the corridors! Have you no shame?”

Isabella smirks and moans as Dorian pulls out of her before adjusting himself. He turns and gives a small bow to Katherine, “Sister, how rarely you visit…How was I to know you were coming? If I had known, of course I would have made sure our delightful younger sister was…” he pauses, as if considering his choice of words, “decent and completely clothed.” Dorian glances back at Isabella and watches as she pulls her robe around her.

Katherine sighs, “Do not patronise me, Dorian. I know perfectly well you and my beloved sisters are completely absorbed in your own decadent behaviour but I hope it has not escaped your memory that the ball is being held in a few hours’ time?”

It’s only then that Isabella takes note of what her elder sister is wearing…A deep blue ball gown, cut to fit tightly at the waist with the full skirt falling elegantly to the floor, the bodice is tight and gives her a stunning cleavage, the sleeves of the gown are snug and go to her shoulders. A string of pearls graces Katherine’s swan like neck and a diamond bracelets gleams at her wrist.

Isabella laughs softly, “Oh dear…Katherine, blue does so suit you! You nearly outrank our Lady mother for beauty. As I recall…Blue was her favourite colour also. I much prefer red…I believe it’s the only colour a Vampire can wear with honesty.” The younger woman turns her back on her sister then kisses her brother deeply, their tongues dancing before Isabella smiles and takes her leave.

Dorian watches her go, his eyes following her hungrily…He almost takes a step to go after her, keen to finish what he started but he manages to stop himself, “So Katherine…Did you come to find me, merely to stop me reaching my pleasure with our angelic sister or was there a proper reason?” He runs his hand through her raven hair and fixes his emerald eyes upon his elder sister’s face; Dorian has always found Katherine mildly intimidating…She was never enchanted by him and always looked at him with contempt.

The eldest sibling shakes her head and sighs, “Honestly Dorian, does this life satisfy you, really and truly?” Katherine watches her younger brother, her eyes shining with distain, “Do you plan to spend your immortal life…fucking your sisters, humans and god knows what else, drinking those vile human drinks and wasting your time?”

The young lord shrugs, “For now I have no plans to change,” he moves closer to Katherine and runs his fingers across her cleavage, “Are you jealous…is that it? Regretting that you never gave into me when I came to your room and slipped my hand under your nightgown?” Dorian smirks and looks into her eyes, lust evidently gleaming there.

Katherine glares and pushes him away with considerable strength, her hand shoots out and pins Dorian to the wall once more, though unlike when Isabella did it earlier…there is no hint of playfulness, “Touch me again, Dorian…And I’ll make sure you lose not only the hand, but also something you value much more.” Her hand tightens briefly on his throat; her fangs gleaming in the candle light…As suddenly as it occurs Katherine releases her brother and sweeps off down the corridor to oversee the preparation for the ball.

Dorian watches her go then smirks and rubs his neck before going off to find his sister, Amelia, who is a two years older than Isabella at 23 years old. Although Dorian has always favoured his youngest sister over Amelia and Sophia…He has a soft spot for Amelia. She was the first of his sisters he fucked and the one he bedded most often in his early 20s. He wanders down the corridor and smirks as a young woman passes him, a human male who has obviously been glamoured as his eyes are glazed and unfocused, on her arm, “Alright Pearl?” Dorian calls over his shoulder as the half-dressed girl pulls the young man into a room.

The young Vampire giggles and calls, “Yes, Milord, just got this one to see to…Though I doubt he’ll even notice I’m fucking him! Sophia’s had this one more times than I can count and I dunno how much of him is left!”

Dorian laughs and keeps walking through the elegant hall walls of the mansion; every hallway is richly carpeted in red, the walls are panelled mahogany and display more painted portraits of long gone family members; most have dark hair, pale skin and green eyes though a handful have golden curls and grey eyes. He reaches Amelia’s bedroom door and stands listening, a smirk playing across his pouty lips; from inside the room he can hear soft sounds…Amelia is clearly enjoying a meal. The young Lord considers leaving her to it then shakes his head and grins, Dorian has never stopped to consider other people’s feelings and is not about to start. He pushes the door open and stands watching as his naked sister, his eyes lingering on the soft blonde curls that rest on her pillow , Amelia moans and arches her back…between her legs a young blonde man is drinking from a bite mark on Amelia’s inner thigh.

The blonde Vampire looks up and quickly wipes his mouth, “Sorry, my Lord, I…I thought we were alone.” The young man sits back on the bed and swallows.

Amelia sits up and glares playfully, “Do I have to remind you about a closed door in the mansion, dear brother?” She glances at the blonde man and smirks, “You can go…whatever your name is. My dear brother can finish me.” The young man slips off the bed and hurries from the room, still naked. Amelia watches him go then grins as Dorian crosses to the bed, pulls her to him and kisses her deeply.

“Ah…my beloved little sister, what am I to think?” Dorian pushes Amelia down onto the bed and smirks, “I find you giving blood to someone else?” He mimes heartbreak then pins her down as he gets on top of her, “I thought you were mine…” Dorian pulls the ties of his pants and frees his hard cock; the sight of Amelia giving blood to another made him rock hard. He cups Amelia’s face and smiles, “Ah…my beautiful sister…”

“Don’t you have to get ready for the ball? It is in Isabella’s honour,” Amelia grins and looks up at her brother, conscious of his cock being rubbed against her smooth pussy.

Dorian laughs, “We have time for some fun and besides…Isabella will keep herself amused until I arrive. I completely forgot about the ball, I was otherwise indisposed this morning and it escaped my mind. Katherine of course has not forgotten.” Although Amelia was the sister who Dorian went to most often in his early twenties, the sisters all knew that, if any of them had Dorian’s heart, it was Isabella. Though Katherine had always maintained that Dorian had no heart…but she also said the same of Isabella, so perhaps they were well suited to each other.

Amelia smirks, “Yes, I heard you this morning. Who was it? Isabella was busy with her clients, a human by the name of…Michael, I believe, and I know for a fact that Sophia was herself indisposed with a certain young gentlemen who was in my room not five moments ago. So, dear brother, do tell…Who were you with?” Amelia’s eyes are alight with mischief as she jokes softly, “My god…Katherine?!”

“Katherine, by the gods no!” Dorian laughs and leans down to kiss Amelia’s neck, his fangs grazing the skin softly, “No, our beloved older sister does not enjoy my favours and I doubt she ever will. Far too…what did mother call her? Toffee nosed? She considers it below herself to serve her brother or our human clients. They do love you girls,” Dorian grins and pulls himself up to look down at Amelia, “and we’re carrying on our father’s wish…the more human’s you girls attract to the mansion, the more ‘willing’ recruits we have to our numbers.”

“Hah! Yes, willing recruits, what a phrase! Lured first to bed then to the night,” Amelia pulls her brother’s lips to hers and kisses him deeply, “Now…fuck me before we have Isabella storming in and asking me to tie her corset! She seems to forget we have maids for such things.”

Two Hours Later

The massive party was not confined to the large ballroom as Katherine had originally planned; as soon as Isabella had seen the preparations and noticed that her sister had scaled down the ball considerably…She had set the servants to work and the result was that Isabella’s had had no less that nine rooms turned over to her party and the throng of guests. The rooms she had taken over included the main ballroom, the smaller hall which was normally used for dinner, three reception rooms, the library, Dorian’s large elegantly study and several bedrooms.

After directing this into operation, Isabella had swept passed her sister with a call of, “I’m off to dress!” and disappeared into her room, leaving Katherine to deal with the early arriving guests and the disgruntled servants.

Isabella stands at the top of the marble stair case, leaning casually on the banister and watching guests arrive, every now and again she makes comments to her maid, Anne, “Oh god, Lady Elizabeth…Will you look at her Anne? What is she wearing! She is far too told to be wearing gold silk,” Isabella smirks and tosses her dark curls, her eyes glittering. The young Lady herself is wearing a stunning gown in crimson and black; a tight corset with black lacing at the back then a full skirt. Her arms and shoulders are bare, showing off her soft ivory skin. A ruby choker shines at her throat and glints as she moves to watch another guest arrive, “Who’s that?” Isabella points to a dark haired young man, evidently a vampire as the only humans at the party are the pets of various Lords and Ladies and they are dressed simply…This young man is dressed elegantly and looks quite the young Lord.

Anne moves closer to her Mistress and watches the young man before smiling, “That is Lord Damien’s youngest son. I think his name is Gregory and he’s 23 years old. He’s unmarried and has no children,” Anne smiles again and watches her Mistress’s eyes which are following Gregory’s movements as he bows to Dorian and kisses her sisters by the hand.

“Hmm,” Isabella glances at Anne and smiles, “Well, I should really go and let my dear Dorian introduce me. If I’m honest, I would have rather celebrated my acceptance into the Vampire community by holding a private party with a few dozen humans and the odd aristocratic Vampire. Katherine did insist on inviting every Lord and Lady, as well as a dozen or so lower Vampires who have some connection with our family. I told her I didn’t want this,” Isabella gestures around to the crowds of people below, “but she was having none of it! That’s why I demanded more rooms; if she wants a big party…She should do the work.” The young Lady tosses her curls and walks to the staircase.

Her Ladies maid, Anne, hurries forward and calls in her soft, musical voice which is a stark difference to Isabella’s seductive voice yet it is still pleasing to the ears, “Lady Isabella Christina Black, beloved sister to Lord Dorian and Princess of House Black.” The crowd stop what they are doing and turn towards the staircase, all watching as Isabella descends the stairs; Anne follows close behind, ready to serve if she’s needed.

Dorian watches his sister, his eyes tracing the curves on her body, he smiles appreciatively at her tight corset before stepping forward and taking her hand, “Sister,” he kisses her cheek, knowing that not everyone in the room is aware of the…special relationship between the siblings and to be seen to show anything other than brotherly affection would be foolish. Dorian leads Isabella towards himself and holds out his free arm to gesture towards her, “Friends, tonight we come together to welcome the beautiful Isabella into our ranks. She has shown her devotion to the cause and has gained much experience. I am proud to call her my sister,” Dorian smiles and kisses her hand while everyone else toasts her by raising their glasses.

Isabella smiles graciously and bows her head as if she is shy before saying softly, in an innocent voice, “Thank you, brother. I could never have achieved it without the support of you, and my dear sisters.”

“Ah, she is so modest,” Dorian releases her hand and smiles at the crowd, “my friends, dance, drink and enjoy yourselves. My girls are at your disposal. All I ask is…that you keep the blood off carpets,” he laughs, “I just had them redone!”

Everyone laughs and some drift off towards the other rooms; however among the remaining Vampires who stand by the staircase are Gregory and his father, Lord Damien. Dorian turns to Lord Damien and smiles, “My Lord, how rare you visit us…Is your Lady wife here? I know my sister Katherine would love to see her again. They were close.”

Lord Damien takes a sip of blood from his goblet and inclines his head slightly, “Lady Anne is indisposed, she is with child and I do not want her exposed to,” Damien nods to the room opposite them where what seems to be an orgy is just beginning; naked Vampires and their human pets writhe and dance to the tune of lust. Lord Damien glances at his son then manages a forced smile, “I thank you for inviting us though. My son has often spoken of wishing to meet your…delightful sisters. I shall leave him to enjoy the party; I should be with my wife. As you will one day know, a Vampire pregnancy is dangerous to both mother and child; I wish to remain with my wife.”

September 2013
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