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 Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2012
Sirana’s story continues here from “Sisterhood” and “Subterrane.” While there will still be plenty of the darker sexual themes, I wanted to focus more on story going forward, and showing more about this incarnation of Drow and of the Red Sisters.
As before, my goal is that you need not have read the previous two stories to understand this one–but knowing the backstory in more than summary might be more enjoyable.
Thank you for reading.
“Who are you watching, Thall?”
Reluctantly I turned my gaze away from the cliff and from practice drills taking place down below us and toward the quiet whisper. I tried to focus on Jaunda as my eyes switched from the vision in light to deeper shadows. I could still tell she was smiling.
She was a ranking Red Sister known simply as a Lead, who answered directly to an Elder, and she was one of my primary trainers. Other than being a Sister, I didn’t have a specific rank myself. Almost in response to that, Jaunda had taken to calling me by my former House’s name, Thalluen. Later she’d truncated it quite intentionally, perhaps as a joke or perhaps to test my reaction—it sounded so much like a reference to magical slavery with which we Drow were quite familiar.
I hadn’t had a reaction; that would have been unwise and I’d overcome impulsive violence in reaction to name-calling years ago. But if one name was as good as another, then she was just as pleased to use it as I was neutral to hear it.
The important thing now was that I answered to it, but only from her. She understood it to be deference to her rank; I understood that she liked having a pet name for me which no one else used. Thus, it made me “one of hers.”
She didn’t have to know that we did not agree on this.
Elder D’Shea had been correct about Jaunda, however; she was straightforward and easy to predict though not lacking in brains. She was also physically more powerful than most other Red Sisters, indeed most other female Drow, and delighted in knowing all the smallest jabs which caused the most pain. She was nothing if not tenacious with a grudge, preferring a hundred smaller paybacks to one or two larger strikes, and like so many of us she had a long memory. I’d heard, but had not seen, however, that if one threatened her outright, triggered her legendary temper, she would only stop short of killing another Sister. Anyone else would be dead.
I had come to realize that she was a good example of the Red Sisters as a whole; a larger-than-normal appetite for brutal testing both physical and mental, for endurance, and for dominance that took any number of forms, far from the least of which was sex.
To me it made sense and set the bar over which to try to leap, though I knew the majority of Nobles really didn’t want this type of physical threat in their own Houses or even between rivals, certainly not the ruling females. If their bodies were their own temples in their minds, they didn’t want them desecrated, violated. That was only supposed to happen to underlings, males, and slaves.
It provided me insight as to why the very first tests of any potential candidate were sexual, whether they could withstand a rape by a Draegloth and male Drow and recover quickly, before facing some other test of something they feared… and only _then_ pushing them out into the wilderness to press their bodies to the limit. Why waste the time testing a warrior’s physical prowess if their mind broke at the first violation?
It made Jaunda and the other Sisters very interesting to me in spite of myself, in spite of everything they had done to me thus far.
Some of their responses I’d seen day to day…small paybacks in the time and manner of one’s own choosing was something I could understand. For Jaunda, they were nearly all physical retribution translated into mental, and after a while, I observed that the pain avoidance would become pure reflex in those she targeted and a visible warning to others.
I understood this well—my eldest, deceased sister could make me flinch on numerous occasions with a motion—and I had taken steps to avoid having such a “trained” response to Jaunda. My upbringing had made it necessary to learn more mental tricks and spiritual resilience, and I didn’t tend to rate the physical as the “ultimate” payback, unless I decided to kill them.
However I quickly learned, like some other Sisters, that Jaunda would protect her territory, and it made my initiation into the Sisterhood following my time in the wilderness a little smoother than it might have been otherwise.
Elder Rausery had been the most painful test—many had warned me it would be—but few others cared to get Jaunda’s hackles raised by dogging the youngest Sister’s heels well beyond the point where they’d taken her measure and found her worthy. I let them jostle with each other and accepted the “protection” from Jaunda, for now.
It was better for the time being that I be “one of hers” and service her the way she wanted only on occasion, rather than to resist her and be caught in her web or anyone else’s, to be jabbed at daily. I was still “The New One”, still at the bottom, so being someone’s favorite made no difference to me—except that the lessening of demanding, horny slits mashed to my face when I wasn’t enduring D’Shea’s lessons gave me some spare energy to observe wherever I was taken around the City.
I had come to realize I’d been too narrow in my focus while still a Noble; I didn’t know enough of what really went on outside of Court and it was a disadvantage. I didn’t abide by a disadvantage once I became aware of it. Not if I could act on it.
Jaunda was showing her teeth in a smile; I could detect the dull gleam from the torchlight far below us. “Well?” she prompted.
*The army,* I replied in a silent gesture, choosing our sign language over a verbal conversation. The torchlight affected our Dark Vision, blurring our expressions slightly, but we could see each other’s outlines just fine.
She gestured smartly back. *I didn’t ask what. I asked who.*
Like I said, Jaunda wasn’t lacking in brains.
*No one specific.*
*Of course.* She might have smirked, but the tilt to her head told me she was waiting for more.
I looked back down at the drills. Good quality armor, gleaming weapons, surprising grace and a lack of wasted effort that I wouldn’t have guessed such a large group of Drow could attain. There existed all-female units, of course, but also a fair number of all-male. They tended to keep them separate, for good reason.
The one below us was all-male.
Jaunda watched me a little longer then tapped my shoulder to gain my attention again. *You are searching for someone.*
I smiled without showing my teeth. *I am.*
*You won’t find him here, the soldier from your trials.*
Jaunda’s skepticism caused me to grit my teeth a bit, though my smile stayed as it was. *Why is that?*
*Because he is not one to keep his silence.*
I thought on that, first picturing the fighter who’d been instructed to overpower me during my first trials, the pawn who had joined up with one of the wizards from the Tower in subjugating me in the secret chamber.
Even though he’d had no choice except to force himself into my body and rut it as, under normal circumstances, no male Drow could ever hope to do and live… even though I knew perfectly well the source of that directive had been the Red Sister Prime herself, I also knew he’d enjoyed it. That alone made me want to find him and kill him, to slit his throat just as I had the Duergar I’d met in the Underdark.
I knew Jaunda had to be right however. The fighter wouldn’t be free to live among the other males; he would certainly talk of the Red Sisters. Fortunate that I hadn’t wasted a lot of time on this; it had just been an opportunity today, and it wasn’t as though I had learned nothing new from watching our army regardless. Oh, I had.
Perhaps the Sisterhood had already killed him for me. I would have to find out.
The angry wizard who’d partnered with him would still be alive, though, and he would be at the Tower with the rest of the male magic users. That wizard had used multiple tactics, testing my will, trying to dominate me and make me ask for more of what they’d done to me. A time or two, I’d been concerned he would succeed, though ultimately he did not. The last thing I remembered of him was the way he’d thrust into my netherhole as brutally as he could as they held me down, slamming into me over and over until he’d left his seed there. Spiteful, bitter seed.
Unlike the fighter, however, the wizard would know how to keep his mouth shut; his very training in the arts of magic all but guaranteed it. The Red Sister Prime and the Valsharess would let him live to continue studying magic as he inherently had more worth. They might even use him in such a way again if he didn’t betray the Sisterhood. Perhaps I hadn’t been his first “initiate” and there were other Sisters who had known him.
Yes, it should be the wizard for whom I searched anyway.
*Was he executed?* I signed to Jaunda of the fighter. I saw no reason not to try the direct route first with the most direct Red Sister.
Unfortunately Jaunda just smiled wider and made no reply. I knew what that meant: another test.
I shook my head slowly, arching an eyebrow and whispered aloud, “I’ve mentioned before you’re all spider-bitten sluts, haven’t I?”
The elder Red Sister laughed loudly in a sudden burst, projecting her voice on purpose and causing it to bounce off the ceiling of the cavern. I noted the sudden tension and lack of focus in the unit below as a few of them looked up and saw us. One of them pointed up just as a rod cracked down on his hand for the trouble.
“You most of any of us, Thall,” she purred, leaning and brushing my hair to the side. She nipped my ear then bit my neck. Not only did I let her do this but felt a genuine stab of pleasure when she did.
What did I think of that? Well, it was better than the alternative.
“Come,” she said, and I followed.
I’d been well-tested so far, but still had a lot to learn.
The Palace and Court were positioned on a rise to look down on the rest of the City; it was both symbolism and practicality. Grand, lovely architecture of smooth stone rose up to mimic the massive stalagmites of the Underdark, built with sweat and magic, glorified with decorated balconies and moulded windows. The dwellings possessed graceful curves, organic in nature despite the polished finish to the outside that made it difficult for anyone to climb up from the outside in their natural state.
Within the multi-spired Palace and centered in clusters of smaller Court houses were spider gardens and Underdark groves, each decorated to the taste of their Mistress. This was where I’d spent the past fifteen years before the Sisterhood had chosen me; likely they’d been watching the whole time, from within these very walls and from viewpoints I never knew had been there.
I’d gone looking for secret passages before, in and around the Palace and the array of stately structures that made up the main population of the Court. It amazed me how little I’d found, but then I hadn’t known what to look for. I did not understand how to see past the glamour set to “encourage” someone to pass over a suspiciously clean wall or to ignore the slight draft at their ankles. I knew now that I should be grateful Lolth hadn’t been playful one day and allowed me to “find” one.
There were several types of wards protecting the doors to hidden passages, and I had been shown only one so far: the easiest, I was told, those leading to secret passages, and where I had only to stare as though seeing in my periphery and mutter a banal word for the switch to reveal itself.
“Best remember to disarm it as well,” Jaunda had said, almost in passing, as she demonstrated.
Even with seeing past the glamour and disarming the trap, I knew the passageways still saved us time getting from point to point, and more importantly they allowed me to see behind the scenes than I ever would have as a mere Noble.
Spy slits were ubiquitous in this hive of treachery, most of them used by the Nobles or servants of Priestesses, but there was also a second maze. The brief nausea I felt passing into them suggested that we’d shifted in space, something called a “pocket dimension,” I’d been told. Simply put, we had our own underground system in which to watch what went on a Court.
These tunnels were smaller than the wider, straighter passages of dressed stone that I’d seen during my escort from the initiation chamber of candles to the hidden sacrificial altar. The smell was closer and oddly sterile. There was just enough height to stand and turn around, but most martial moves would be restricted in the tight space. There were intersections, but no internal rooms or alternate doorways until one exited to the Red Sisters’ quarters, and one could easily get lost in the maze long before reaching that point if they weren’t supposed to be there.
Most of our spy slits looked down into a room from a higher vantage point. One didn’t have to glance in every spy slit, but I had found the temptation compelling at first. Every time I had slowed Jaunda’s pace with my curiosity, however, it always resulted in some molestation on her part in the close darkness, and no matter what she did, I had to remain silent. This she made clear. Magical glyphs near each slit dampened sound, so even if my will should waver and I uttered a cry, it would still be swallowed up in thick darkness. I didn’t find the experiences to my liking—too much like the early abuse of my childhood of which I literally couldn’t speak for decades. Soon I found it in me to ignore the spy slits while following Jaunda…
…unless she stopped first. Then it meant she wanted me to witness something.
*Hold,* she gestured now, leaning to peer down into a slit, squinting a little and then grinning widely. She motioned for me to come closer. *As I’ve shown you.*
As she had “shown me” was a comfortable stance either standing or kneeling before the spy slit. I was to place naked hands upon one of two sets of glyphs, which would glow dimly once warmed by life-heat. I pulled off my gloves now, tucked them at my belt, and chose to stand, my feet comfortably placed, with my hands covering the higher set of glyphs. The hair at my nape rose slightly as I felt the magic slither over my hands and bond with them, connecting securely, unbreakably, until the release word was uttered.
I had refused to touch the Glyphs the first time, until Jaunda had explained more and told me the release word. She’d laughed but seemed pleased with my forethought. I didn’t know as much magic as some, but basic survival taught me to be cautious about touching runes that sparkled in darkness without knowing more about them.
I knew now that those imbued carvings amplified my hearing and sight just enough that I would be able to hear even a whisper in that room below and to see as if looking through a viewscope. I might even be able to read a missive or map held at the right angle; I could certainly study faces in minute detail.
My first glance now revealed that there were three individuals down below, the door was closed and probably warded. I had to study the most prominent face for I did not know it.
She was a Priestess, no doubt, an older one with a black spider crown holding her blonde-streaked hair back and swept up into a partial scalp lock. Her gown was royal purple and cut in a classic design that I had seen often, but her silver belt was unique. The decorative end made of many tiny chains looped and draped around each other to nearly cradle her left hip in ornate shining metal against a dark backdrop. If that belt wasn’t an heirloom or a status symbol, I’d swallow dwarf piss.
She sat looking dignified with her back straight, though it was in a rather small, grey, fiberstalk chair that looked more useful for its portability than its grandeur. Next to her was a small table, again made of fiberstalk, round and decorated with ritual props familiar to me thanks to a blood sister hoping to become a Priestess, though the quality here was much, much better than hers had been.
One prop that was already being used was the black candle with the red dots marking each hour; the single candle gave enough light to see by, and allowed us to see all colors. The room itself was rather small and sparse, like an interrogation room with only the bare minimum furnishing. It seemed odd to me for a moment that an elder Priestess wouldn’t be in a more comfortable room to have a meeting.
My eyes next drifted to the figure nearest her and I felt a very real shock; my mouth opened in a silent gasp as my heart seized hot for a moment before the sensation spread through the rest of me. It was Kerse, my first test during my trial; the Draegloth with whom I’d sparred and coupled with on the glassy floor of the candle chamber.
Every Priestess gave birth to one Drow-demon hybrid, conceived during her final test to become a holy guardian for Lolth. If her control of her magic and will was strong enough, she survived coitus with a member of the Abyss. Then if she survived the birthing, she had a Lolth-blessed servant for the life of her service, and her House gained power by association—though the Draegloth were by no means a popular dream among most Drow, due to their appearance. I’d known some who would rather ignore a Draegloth’s presence in a room, if at all possible, status symbol or not.
Like any Draegloth, Kerse could be used for anything his mother saw fit, and though I’d never met her, she’d seen fit to loan him to the Red Sisters to test me. I’d evaded and resisted him, actually interacted with him until I had coaxed his name from him. Armed with that knowledge, I’d fucked him gleefully…and reveled in a very memorable orgasm, if the flush that speared through my body now was any indication.
Now I understood why Jaunda stopped at this slit; this had to be Kerse’s mother, the one I had been warned would be unhappy with the way I had bargained a deal with her son. My deal—trading his name for a deep, willing dip into my sex—conflicted directly with his mother’s own command, which had been to force-fuck me regardless of my will. It was a challenge to her authority and maybe a confusing chink in his loyalty to her.
I’d wondered once or twice before if he had been soundly punished for the mistake he made with me. I could not see any physical evidence of anything permanent. Even crouched by his dam, he was taller than her, powerful, monstrous. With black skin, yellow eyes, and a white, shaggy mane of hair that sprouted along his spine to his middle back, he possessed an ugly, toothy muzzle, bestial face, and large, intimidating talons on his strong hands. Unlike the first time I’d seen him, a simple dark green wrap circled his groin and hid his endowment from view. I was rather sorry for that.
I became aware of Jaunda standing very close behind me, too close for my peace of mind, to tell the truth. With one hand she swept my cloak to one side and slid her other hand directly between my legs, reaching around from the back. I jumped and wanted to turn, but felt her clasp her arm around my waist and tighten her grip on my sex through my leathers. The stiff leather covering her chest pressed into the same covering my back, and her mouth was right next to me ear.
“Still and silent, Thall,” she hissed.
I obeyed, though my legs began to shift.
“Keep them open.” She made it clear she wasn’t removing her hand from my crotch until she was ready, and I was not to close my legs.
I had figured this was her intent as soon as she touched me. I was to remain helpless with my hands pressed to the Glyphs; I’d be watching this room and putting up with whatever she wanted to do in silence, until Jaunda was satisfied and ready to leave. It would be just like the times before when I could not resist stealing glances inside the rooms and was being disciplined.
Though this time…I had been invited to look.
I felt my anger rise; I hadn’t made a mistake in judgment to deserve it this time. Jaunda had recognized the Draegloth and decided to take some advantage of me. My anger felt old and tired somehow, sluggish but so similar to the anger against my abusive, late sister. All that she had done to me then I had sustained in silence as well; and now? I didn’t like that Jaunda got off on this type of power. Or maybe I just didn’t like her using it against me.
She began massaging me through the black leather—I’d hadn’t yet earned the red uniform, but I had earned a practical one at least—and I tightened my jaw stoically and focused back into the room below me.
The other Drow in the room was bowing, on her knees before the Priestess, Kerse’s mother. She was young but perhaps not as young as me, with much shorter hair; she wore a Noble’s dress, cut to be loose and teasing around the torso, long to the floor from the waist, with slits on both sides from ankle to mid-thigh. One did not do any hard work wearing such a dress. It was brilliant blue, and all her jewelry was gold and platinum, accenting her wealth. I was looking for an insignia or something to tell me to which House she belonged, or for her to raise her face off the floor. Perhaps I knew her.
“Rise, Curgia,” said the Priestess in an imperious alto voice, the deepness exceeded only by the Red Sister Prime. “As much as I condone prostrating for the glory of Lolth, this is thinly veiled self-indulgence. You are trying to appeal to my vanity, not to my connection with our Goddess.”
Curgia—who was indeed known to me from Court, though she was very new—raised herself up straight again. She remained on her knees, no doubt thinking about the grit getting into the fine fabric as her classic copper eyes flicked downward a moment. She looked too arrogant for her own good, and from the way small strands of hair were sticking to her temples, getting on her knees hadn’t been the first attempt to persuade the Priestess to give her whatever it was she sought.
“That is not true, Priestess! I ask in all earnestness. Your recommendation of House Itlaun for the next worship ball would allow us our first opportunity in four score of years to tithe to Lolth well beyond our normal means. We only wish a chance to prove it.”
“In exchange for the unlimited use of a Bred Consort.”
Jaunda breathed out on my neck and pressed harder on my sex as she continued massaging me. My body was stiff as the sensation increased and even moved toward pleasurable, but I was still paying very close attention to the conversation.
The younger Drow tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “If our offering does not buy us one, then we would gladly accept him for only a term, if it pleases you.”
“Lolth decides the term, not me. Only She can speak for your offering.”
“Yes, but She speaks through you,” Cugia replied in a testy tone. “Is there anything I could offer in advance of the auction to persuade you to recommend us?”
Kerse’s mother looked briefly offended and I could guess why; Curgia was pushing a deal, a blatant transaction that had little to do with faith. Although I did not think other Houses that had been favored with Bred Consorts claimed them in a procedure much different from this, I could see that the Nobles who gained one were not nearly so clumsy in their presentation to the clergy.
Despite the fact that my opinion of those “faith auctions” matched Curgia’s, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to show one’s impatience and desperation to a Priestess, no matter how many hours I’d been made to stand or kneel before her. I wondered what I’d missed thus far, because not only did Kerse’s mother next smile ever-so-briefly, but she relaxed her previously stiff posture. It was the same change in posture a spider takes when it knows its prey can’t leave its web and has to wait for mealtime.
“Perhaps there is,” she said slowly, deeply. “I require a show of faith, young Curgia. Your distinctly secular vocabulary disturbs me, but perhaps the only problem is that your merchant-bred family has gotten too used to each other, and your manners require only a bit of polish. You do have faith in your Goddess’s choices, in her Valsharess and her Priestesses, am I right?”
Curgia nodded energetically, looking likewise offended at the description of her family and their manners. “Of course I have faith, Wilsirathon, Chosen of Lolth. That is why I come to you, to help place our House in the path of change. We have seen recent fortune and it’s a sign from Lolth that we must pursue aggressively to get our name out there again!”
I almost winced at the lapse back into what is essentially merchant-speak for marketing. But at least now I knew Kerse’s mother’s title, Athon. It meant she had forgone her birthright, with the Valsharess’s approval. Unlike Lelinadara—the Priestess who had tested and healed me—who was a favored daughter but not first born, this Priestess was First Born female of her House Wilsira, and would have been acting Matron if she had not had a higher calling. As it was, the second-born was Matron but the influence of the Wilsirathon on the House Rule was unavoidable. No doubt the second sister made many trips here for “discussion.”
“Will you prove it to me, right now beneath the eyes of Lolth, young one?” the elder Priestess, and I saw Kerse shift then, raising his head to look at his mother with interest in his eyes.
Curgia didn’t notice, or perhaps she merely refused to look at the Draegloth as so many others did, but I felt a shudder go through me in what almost seemed a premonition. I felt Jaunda’s breath just before her lips closed on my earlobe and her strokes on me became slower.
“Yes, I will, Priestess. Anything.”
Jaunda chuckled low in my ear, and I finally realized how hot my crotch had become from her attention, how hot my entire body felt. She had thought my shudder was purely from her actions, and while I knew it had more to do with Kerse’s suddenly intense eyes, I also felt real pleasure in her touch. My anger and resentment had dissolved into anticipation both for the “anything” Curgia might do, and what Jaunda no doubt would do.
My trainer unbuckled my belt threaded with pouches in record time, letting that fall. The sound was muffled to the softest “paff” in the passageway. Next she began unlacing the leather thongs at my hips, loosening my pants and sliding her hand down my naked flank to my nest of white fur atop my slit. I opened my mouth as her finger slid inside me, though I managed to close my throat against any sound. I usually received better treatment from her if I didn’t make the Glyphs work for me in keeping the quiet, but it was all relative.
I heard my trainer sigh then, and my next epiphany was that Jaunda wasn’t punishing me now as she had before. Yes, my hands were still firmly trapped on the Glyphs, muffling our noise and heightening our senses, and yes, my legs were still open as she fondled me. That was the same. But she wasn’t whispering insults and jabbing into me, she wasn’t using pressure points to blend any possible pleasure with pain. She was caressing my mound and merely breathing. It was exploration, not discipline.
I smiled, arched and pressed my backside against her, and heard the barest murmur of approval as she thrust her hips forward once. When she did nothing more than keep her fingers moving slowly in my twat, I took the hint to return my attention to the room.
Wilsirathon let Curgia’s last word hang in the air a long time, until the Noble began to fidget again. Kerse was looking directly at her—a rather shocking display of insolence under public custom—but she still did not acknowledge he was there. I found myself hoping that Kerse would get a try at her snatch—and wouldn’t she hate it if he succeeded! I felt a spike in my own arousal imagining him humping her; I’d never liked her.
“Remain on your knees,” the Priestess said now, “and place your elbows on the ground. Let us take a moment of reverence for our Lady of the Web.”
Curgia hesitated a little too long in my opinion, but she slowly lowered herself to rest on her elbows, still trying to look up at the Priestess. I grinned; the young Noble’s hips were higher up than anything else so it was easy to imagine Wilsirathon walking behind her, lifting her dress up, and inviting Kerse to mount her. Curgia wasn’t a warrior; I wondered if she would fight or just protest?
“Place your forehead on the ground.”
Nothing was quick about this; I heard murmured prayers for several minutes as Curgia kept her eyes down and subtly started inching her legs together, as Kerse weaved slowly, and even I was getting impatient. What was the proof she wanted to see?
Finally the elder Priestess stood up from her chair and walked toward her worshipping trader, circling around her as I had imgined, studying her form. Kerse stayed where he was. Wilsirathon tapped her own cheek with a bejeweled finger, her expression thoughtful and bemused. I watched for sadism as well, but if it was there, it was well-hidden. How could she not love where she stood, how Curgia presented? I glanced at Kerse again and took comfort in my prediction; he did have an erection beneath that cloth.
“Is it you?” Wilsirathon asked.
“Priestess?” the younger replied in confusion.
“Who is to conceive first, should your House be so favored with a Consort? Is it you?”
I saw Curgia swallow; I wasn’t sure why. If she was the one fighting hard for the purchase of a Bred Consort, then why shouldn’t she enjoy the fruits first? This thought, however, brought back to me both the intense, divine orgasm when I’d first impaled myself on such a gorgeous male…and it also brought back the fact that I’d forced his participation despite his protests, taken him without permission, so desperate I’d been in divine need.
And I was tempted to swallow as well. The very concept of the Bred Consorts were a whole fungus field of potential social blunders, so far removed were they from our daily lives and so coveted was their seed. Even though I hadn’t realized what he’d been when I’d violated his perfect body, I’d still committed a sin in the eyes of the Priesthood, much worse than Curgia’s frank bargaining. Only the Red Sisterhood’s secrecy protected me from outright punishment, I knew.
“The ball is mere cycles away, a cluster of hours” the Priestess continued. “Are you purifying yourself already to heighten your receptivity?”
Kerse’s mother moved quickly—surprising us both—and lifted Curgia’s dress to expose her raised backside; like most of us who were well-off, she had no underclothes. The young Noble’s legs were pressed together, making it hard to see her sex even if I hadn’t been at a side-view angle from her anyway. But her skin was smooth and healthy, her curves softer and more fleshy than mine for being mercantile over military.
Curgia moved to rise up on her arms, perhaps to move forward, as she opened her mouth to say something.
“STAY AS YOU ARE!” Wilsirathon barked so loudly that it echoed and hurt my ears. Jaunda behind me hissed in discomfort and her fingers stopped moving inside me for a moment.
We all waited as Curgia froze then reluctantly settled down. The Priestess then leaned down and took a dignified whiff of her scent, not thrusting her nose into the Noble’s crotch at all but still lifting the warm air near her skin. She stroked and patted the younger Drow’s haunches before straightening herself, leaving the dress resting on her hips. I saw a spread of tiny bumps arise on Curgia’s flesh and I knew she felt vulnerable.
“I can smell it,” the Priestess said, walking around to the front again. “The fertility herbs, their essence seeping through your skin. You have been preparing, I daresay bathing your insides with them. So certain, are you?”
“Hopeful,” the young one murmured, trying to downplay it. “Why not give it the best chance? It is my Matron’s goal, I will do whatever I can to make it so.”
“Indeed. Not aging well, is she? That she’d want you as the broodmare.”
If there hadn’t been candlelight in the room, I’d have bet that Curgia’s rage would have shown like a beacon in the dark. “I was chosen, and I am loyal to my House.”
“And the status means nothing to you?”
“Status means everything. That’s why I’m here.”
“But you have been saying you’re not here primarily for yourself,” the Priestess continued. “If your House were favored with a Consort, could you see another conceive first, ahead of you?”
Curgia was silent.
“I’ve given you much of my time, and you’ve said many things, Noble. I want to know if you will back them up, in the name of Lolth. If your House is worthy of my support.”
The young Noble’s body language began to show obvious signs of nervousness and dread; I could see her toes flex in her sandals, her chest expand more, her bottom lip tremble. “How?”
“Give up your own plans to conceive first, and I will grant my recommendation to House Itlaun at the ball.”
Curgia tentatively raised her head, and when she wasn’t shouted at again, she looked up at the Priestess. Her expression seemed to ask, *That’s all?*
I thought she was right to be suspicious.
“You’ll notice I added ‘first’,” Wilsirathon smiled encouragingly, still without the sadism I had fully expected to see. “You may still conceive. Doesn’t that speak well for the length of the term that your House might keep the Consort?”
Curgia nodded carefully. “Yes, Priestess.”
“So? Can you give up first claim, young merchant?”
The air was heavy and the merchant was obviously having trouble coming to terms with the deal. She wanted to make a counter-offer, but she wasn’t in the position—literally and socially—to do so. All her usual tactics were useless and she was at a loss.
She could only agree, or refuse and leave, and House Itlaun would not have another chance at a Consort for another generation. Jaunda and I waited in near stillness for her answer. I’d been watching Kerse, too, and his interest in the exchange had not wavered; he watched and listened to everything.
“Very well,” Curgia said, the bitterness loaded in her throat. “I will…give up first claim, if you will recommend my House for Lolth’s Blessing at this season’s ball.”
The elder nodded in satisfaction. “I still require a guarantee, a show of faith, young Noble. I know merchants find ways to go back on a deal.”
“It is a sacred agreement, Priestess, I would not dare!”
Lolth’s Chosen finally chuckled. “And you know how well our own Lady changes her mind.”
The young Drow’s mouth hung open a bit as she tried to work out how the Priestess could be so zealous of her faith yet acknowledge how fickle the Goddess really was. In that time, Wilsirathon gestured to Kerse, who came forward immediately and very eagerly, crouching again beside his mother. She reached casually to untuck his groin wrap and pull it away, displaying the very first sight I’d ever had of the Draegloth: turgid and ready to couple.
Curgia’s eyes found him as well and they widened considerably. She started to shake her head.
“Where is that guarantee, Curgia?” the Priestess asked quietly, and I could hear the threat in her deep voice. “Show me the faith in our agreement.”
The younger Drow trembled, and I saw actual tears come to her eyes. “What guarantee do you want?”
“See to my son’s need,” came the reply, and it felt unfinished to me when Kerse scooted forward on all fours and crawled partly over Curgia’s prone body, his erection clearly aimed at her lips as the white crown of her head brushed against his dark belly.
“Oh, this is good,” Jaunda said to me, the glee evident even in a whisper, as her fingers started moving faster again as she started to grind herself against my backside.
I agreed with the sentiment, the pleasure of her touch enhanced by the view. While I’d imagined a reluctant mounting originally, Kerse thrusting into this Noble’s mouth was just as good of a show.
Curgia hesitated a long time again as Kerse snuffled over her backside, rumbling low in his chest and sounding pleased as his mother watched silently. The young one was trying to find justification for willingly letting the rigid, demonic rod slip past her teeth.
*Come on, merchant, what else can you do?* I thought. *With all those fertility herbs in your blood, just be glad he isn’t plundering your quim…*
The kneeling Drow must have had the same thought because she suddenly opened her mouth and took him as far as she could, actually seeming to make an effort to pleasure him. I saw a flash of pink tongue as she tilted her head, licking and swirling at him, and Kerse rumbled louder, his muscles tightening as he stretched his throat and lifted his head upward, a drop of spit falling onto her exposed buttocks.
The Draegloth humped at her throat with some restraint as he glanced twice at the Priestess. I wondered briefly if he was picking up subtle signals from her, but Jaunda was dry humping me hard with her crotch by now; it was getting distracting. I watched Kerse reach both huge hands to maul Curgia’s flesh, first fumbling underneath for her covered breasts, pawing at her sides, and then moving to squeeze and knead her exposed haunches. It didn’t take long before he was licking and slobbering in her crack.
I heard Curgia squeak and squeal a few times, writhing. I didn’t think she was enjoying it; they were sounds of protest and distaste. I remembered the way Kerse had licked me once from nub to pucker; frankly, it hadn’t been that bad.
Jaunda eased off grinding into me, her hand leaving my twat entirely as she drew back, and I left the sight of Curgia’s dismay to glance back over my shoulder.
The elder Red Sister was getting something out of her pouch before undoing her own belt to set it down near our feet. Then she loosened and pushed down her red leathers expertly and I realized she was inserting a stiff phallus into herself.
She was going to fuck me against the wall as we watched. However many times I’d been disciplined against the wall just like this, she’d never brought out the phallus before. She reserved that for playtime.
My wet slit pulsed once in desire, aching for the penetration, but I couldn’t remove my hands from the wall to push down my own pants the rest of the way. I had to wait for Jaunda’s strong hands to shove them down. She did so impatiently, kicking my ankles wider before aiming the head at my drooling nethermouth, pressing and spearing it inside me with one stroke.
I choked on a groan as the force of Jaunda’s thrusts pushed me closer to the stone. Even after these couple months, after being subjected to it many times, I didn’t quite understand how it was that, in just this one secretive group, the Red Sister roleplaying the weaker sex always maintained dominance and control over the coupling. It was supposed to be the other way around.
The only consistency seemed to be in the jealously-guarded phallus itself. Instead of an unfeeling, unwieldy, and all-too-fake pole, the Red Sisters would regularly use a magical one on each other. It not only became life-like and solid when temporarily bound with a Sister’s body, but she could also feel the inside of her partner through it as well. She could achieve climax rather like a male did, but without the messy spurting.