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

This story is continued (and how!).

The story so far heavily references both “Sisterhood” and “Subterrane”.

Chapter 6

It was easier to spy on those at Court; the tunnel system saw to it. Less easy to spy on a House proper, on their own turf, their own plantation, especially when one couldn’t be detected and any slips or witnesses had to be dealt with. It could get sticky quickly as not always could it mean the death of the detector, so better to not be detected in the first place.

D’Shea had been sending me to alternating locations; House Itlaun and House Aurenthin. One guess who the Drow of interest were.

I enjoyed watching Jael Aurenthietti much more than Curgia and her House’s Consort, by far. In the former, I saw evidence of an iron will and a gleeful level of furious energy. I did not know anything of her past—D’Shea didn’t want me to know so as not to color my reports—but it was a joy to watch her practice her martial skills and sometimes listen as her double-talk went right past those who looked down on her for being of a low House.

Jael wanted so much more; I could smell the determination.

She clearly wasn’t right for the part of a Matron; her impulse-control wasn’t the best and she was more reactive than proactive, and granted, that role was already taken by her oldest Sister anyway. Three females would have to die before she would get a chance, but I didn’t think that she wanted it anyway.

She was a solitary one in her family; she volunteered for patrols and her Matron seemed just as pleased to let her go. Her violent sparring was only against others with which she had no close connection beyond similar training. Indeed, she even seemed rather anti-social.

Not often did I observe her having sex, but what I saw was just enough. It caused me to reflect that whichever Red Sisters had been watching me at Court before they came for me…well, it explained some of my reputation coming in and a comment Jaunda had made in more than a handful of our couplings: “Come on, I know you like it.”

Jael was a fierce one even having sex. I witnessed a few of both sexes, but slightly more female. I didn’t know if that was significant or not. The Red Sisters would have witnessed me taking only males, never females, and quite a lot of them; that was significant.

The most interesting detail I gleaned was that she was usually overbearing the other to be dominant—using quiet threats and physical power—but it almost seemed she was slightly disappointed when they submitted, even after a healthy struggle.

It made me wonder whether some part of her—with the females especially—almost wished someone were strong enough to defeat her. It would wipe that sneer of contempt from her face.

I knew there were plenty of Red Sisters who could do that for her.

I thought she was right for us, and it wasn’t just the fact that then she would be the youngest Red Sister, although that was a side-benefit for me. She was also right for Rausery, more so than D’Shea. That was according to plan as well. I wanted us to Collect her, for certain, but wouldn’t push it too hard. If I mentioned no flaws at all, D’Shea would think less of my evaluation.

Impulsive. Strong temper. Bitter toward Priestesses and Houses above hers.

But give her some direction, something to do outside of the “don’t overturn the bridge” norm of society, re-train her perception to minimize the lop-sided importance of her House’s number, and she would be unbreakable and loyal.

Rausery would love her.

By comparison…or more contrast, I quickly grew bored watching Curgia and Tulia and their Mother and Aunt. Middling-to-low status, medium-term plotting, much business and merchant speak, utter fear and compliance with any suggestions, directives, or hints which came from the Priestesses. They over-analyzed every detail, tying their own web tighter and smaller around themselves in their anxiety. Making it even more boring, from what I could tell, it had nothing to do with me.

The only interesting part was that after a few months I could spot the same subtle signs of pregnancy in both sisters, except one was gloriously proud of it and the other was trying desperately to hide it.

Guess which was which?

To be honest, most of my spying was slow-paced; Jael was the very pleasant exception in that she could not seem to be idle for long.

Even watching the Consort mate with one of the House Nobles was boring; they never tapped his potential, never saw him as more than a prize, a status-symbol, and treated him like fine crystal. They were also as mechanical as Tulia had been on the altar. As for him, he was compliant and placid, and he orgasmed oh-so-prettily for them, performing as expected.

I honestly wondered how his interest in sex did not flag after a time.

I sighed; watching House Itlaun was so frustrating and mind-numbingly tedious.

Occasionally I would speak with the Consort. The first time it had been Gaelan and me. We had wanted to establish his recollection and immediately connect the Red Sisters with my face.

Since I’d been naked and raping him at the time he met me, he wouldn’t necessarily know what it had been about when Gaelan had arrived to drag me off him. It worked well enough; he accepted that he’d been attacked by a Red Sister for an unknown reason, and rescued by one in turn. It added to the mystique of us, even if it did nothing for my pride, leaving him to wonder why one Red Sister would hog-tie another and take her away somewhere…only to bring her back, fully clothed and equipped this time.

He also understood what was expected of him. I was not surprised to discover that it was not the first time for him to be an informant.

The next time, however, I had been instructed to gather intelligence alone; Gaelan would have a different assignment. Oh, the Consort hadn’t been pleased that “the other Red Sister” was not there to provide an easier way to report; he’d barely made any eye contact with me before, preferring to deal with her, though he knew neither of our names.

I had savored that first encounter; delightful and surprising, and still so clear in my memory. It had led to more than I would have guessed as well.

Per the Priestesses’ requirements, he’d been given his own quarters at House Itlaun. It made complete sense, and he’d be telling the Priestesses much of what went on in this House. The advantage we believed the Red Sisters had in his case was that he truly would not want his Priestesses knowing about his encounter with me. While he was likely aware that it could cause some strife for me and cause friction between the two powerful groups, we had to highlight for him the fact that he should care more about his own fate than mine.

This Consort would not be as valuable if it was well-known among the Nobles that he’d once been “despoiled,” taken by force while under the protection of another House. Following that, he wouldn’t be as valuable to the Priestesses as an informer. Then… who knew where he’d be? He would be sent somewhere, but who knew where? Better to follow the path he knew; it had its better qualities and luxuries, and all he had to do was remain silent.

It was why I had been sent here alone; to see to it.

“Where is the Other?” the Consort had asked after setting the sound-dampener ward and giving us privacy.

“Only myself this eve,” I smiled, showing my desire and a bit of sinister playfulness.

He swallowed. I could see the dread on his face and had already anticipated why. He believed he would now be required to couple with me anytime I demanded, and he would still have to remain silent about it. He expected the blackmail, considered it a foregone conclusion.

Under normal circumstances, he would be right. However, I knew perfectly well D’Shea was testing my control, and she’d explained that she didn’t want him so without hope with long-term abuse that he felt he had nothing to lose in revealing what had happened to the Priestesses. He didn’t know this, however, and we far preferred to leave him wondering when or if I would take him again, rather than to enlighten him that he was actually safe from me.

It was true that I wanted the Red Sisters more than I wanted his perfect body.

Resolve came over his face the next moment then. How I loved the honest expressions I could see.

“What do you want?” he asked, his left hand flexing nervously.

“An update since my last visit, gorgeous one.”

He tilted his head slightly at the compliment but nodded, giving me that which he knew. Or claimed to. Unlike the reports to the Priestesses, he could be lying to us and we had taken what he said so far with a grain of salt. My assignment here tonight was to determine whether or not his only reason for being completely truthful might be to avoid being regularly used by me.

D’Shea would love having the leverage if I could get it.

“I see. Is that all?” I asked.

He nodded.

“And are you lying, either in fact or by omission?”

“No, Red Sister.”

He didn’t look away at first as I stared at his fine eyes, but he soon grew uncomfortable with my silence and my gaze and blinked, looking to the side and shifting his weight on his well-formed sandaled feet. He wore a similar style outfit to the first time I’d seen him, but this time the cloth wrapping his waist and draped artfully over one shoulder was finer quality. He likely wore nothing else beneath.

I smiled salaciously, trailing a hot gaze up his legs, lingering on his crotch, waist, chest and shoulders, and ending with an appreciative hum as I nodded, as if making a decision. I loved that his hair was down, free-flowing; it was a contrast to mine when on a mission: tight-plaited and bound against the back of my neck. He also wore a different circlet around his throat; still of the round belly symbol but integrated with House Itlaun’s crest. It looked brand-new, very recently made.

“I guess I have some spare time, then.”

His eyes widened a fraction and he took a step back. “Red Sister, no, please, I’ve told you before, if my Mistress—”

I closed the distance between us threateningly even as he backed up. My voice was coarse. “Where do you think your *telling* me anything from your lying mouth is going to have the result you want?”

“I’m not lying!” he exclaimed, bumping into the wardrobe with his back and giving it a startled glance before looking back at me. “Forgive my slip. Not telling you, I’m begging of you.”

I ignored that. “It conflicts with another report about Curgia’s condition, dear one,” I said more quietly as I got chest-to-chest, well within his space. “One of you is lying.”

I took hold of the bottom of his wrap, my soft leather glove brushing along his thigh as I started to raise it up. He still had the spirit to grab another part of the cloth—not my wrist, the Consort did have intelligence—and try to hold it down. It was taut enough that one sharp tug on my part would probably tear it.

I would have loved to; the sound would be satisfying and would stroke my hunger. But then he’d have to explain it to his Mistresses.

“I’m not the liar, the other is,” he said boldly. “I can’t be the sire of whatever piglet Curgia is carrying. I’ve been around enough times in these Houses, I know she wouldn’t be hiding it if I were.”

“And under which circumstances would you guess she would hide it?”

“Anything unplanned and unapproved,” he said.

“Vague theory, nothing more. Any thoughts on Curgia specifically?”

The Consorts jaw tightened. “I don’t know. Would guessing count as lying with you?”

“Not when I ask you for your opinion. Which I am.”

He breathed out and swallowed, still uncomfortable with me caging him against the wardrobe. “I’d say she was forced somehow.”

I quirked one brow. “Sounds unlikely. What if it was just from a dalliance with a low-born slave?”

He shook his head. “I know how badly they wanted a Consort. Curgia is not impulsive. And…and I am familiar with the signs of force, Red Sister. I have been able to observe it my whole existence around me.”

“And even experience it once,” I quipped. “But why would those signs be the same in a female? I assume you’ve been watching males, observing from afar and being glad that it wasn’t you. And it doesn’t happen to females. Being forced is a male fate, isn’t it?”

I knew very well otherwise, of course, I just wanted his reaction. He looked delightfully angry for a few seconds, his life energy churning and spinning beneath his skin from his chest up to his face, before he got himself under control again.

“Females are forced just as males are. And now *you* are lying, Red Sister,” he said, hissing the last word a little.

“Oh?” I wanted to hear this.

“The Consorts all know why even the highest *female* Nobles fear you. You are the worst and most cruel of the rapists, and no gender is excused. I’m not even certain children are spared.”

For a moment, I felt a reaction similar to his at the comment; that hot flash of anger and insult. However, I smirked and didn’t enlighten him that we didn’t torture children that way. Kill them, perhaps, only when absolutely necessary and when the entire House had been condemned…but I knew none of my Sisters who would be aroused by the too-young age of a thin, prepubescent Drow.

We still protected and supported the gift and ability to bear those young in the first place, and it was explicitly forbidden by the Red Sister Prime (in case one of us somehow did get the idea to experiment).

The Consort could see in the dark as well as I could; he’d have to interpret that somatic response of mine on his own. Damning though it was, even for us, my leaders would prefer we not let it leak that there were actually some limits to what the Red Sisters would do to any Nobles who got out of line.

Time for a distraction.

I let go of the cloth of his wrap and slid my hand toward his inner thigh, reaching beneath and up to cup his testicles and he jumped. We were both breathing much more quickly and he actually did push at my wrist to get me to remove my hand. I let my hand go back to his thigh as I leaned to sniff his neck.

He smelled so good…

“Please, don’t,” he gasped.

“Who would know? No one, unless you told them. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Just leave me be, please, I’m not worth the risk!”

“Don’t you want me?”

Given our “conversation” thus far, it should have been a ridiculous question; I was teasing him again, pushing the situation to get him where I wanted him. But I also asked right then because I was somewhat surprised…. He was partially erect when I caressed his privates again, this time over the surface of the cloth.

“I’ll get caught. Everyone always gets caught, sooner or later!” he said vehemently.

I blinked. That hadn’t been the “No” I was expecting.

In the seconds following as I kept touching him, he became fully erect, much harder than when I’d forced an erection from him during our first encounter, and he suppressed most of a moan. I looked at his eyes, some of my ardor shoved to the side with difficulty as my higher functions focused more tightly on his words as he spoke again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he pleaded, quivering close to me. “Red Sister, I would lie beneath you if I had the choice, but I don’t and I can’t. I can promise that I’ll never lie by fact or omission, to you or any Red Sister, if you will just not…force me. It jeopardizes everything I have, and each time you do it, the more likely I’ll be caught and punished. It won’t matter that I had no choice.”

That was exactly what D’Shea had wanted me to make him understand on this assignment, but it seemed she already had that edge. None of us had quite realized he’d thought about it to the same place that we had; we thought we would have to convince him.

I was silent for several long moments before I spoke again.

“Why would you lie under me?” I asked, only because I wanted to know. Maybe I’d understand after I had time to think why he was erect when he was cornered and had plenty of reason to hate me, but right now I was bewildered. Why was it a temptation for him now?

He hadn’t stopped shaking but he tried to slow his breathing, swallowing before speaking. “You see me, and you like what you see.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “I also hurt you. And enjoyed it.”

“You tested me. And didn’t find me lacking.” Another swallow, a flash at that lovely throat. “No one has ever dared…I’ve wondered how I would react if someone tried. Now I know. And you know. You’re the only one who does.”

The stiff rod still in my hand pulsed once.

“Used to being treated like the thinnest crystal glass, hm?” I asked, and he nodded, giving another little push at my wrist with his hand to get me to let go of his erection. Very reluctantly, I did.

He spoke in a quick, hushed voice. “When you found me, wh-what were you doing out there, Red Sister?” he asked. “You were naked and injured and muddy and seemed a little….well, all you had was a blade. The only direction you could have come from was the wilderness. Had you been attacked? I saw the bitemark; it wasn’t from a creature but something on two legs. Did they rob you?”

Observant and intelligent enough to use deductive reasoning, and he’d done some studying somewhere. How long had I been underestimating the males at Court? I actually felt foolish now. It was a good thing I’d already confessed about the dwarf and the rape to D’Shea, or this one might have something I didn’t want her to know.

I smirked and chuckled softly, nodding. “Attacked? Yes. Robbed? No. I was already exactly as you saw me when they attacked, and I kept my blade. The attackers lost their lives; I was only bitten out of a desperate last act.”

Let him think it had been more than one who overwhelmed me. It was easier to accept and better for the Sisters’ reputation than what had actually happened.

He nodded, his eyes wide with interest. He’d stopped shaking. “Why were you nude with only a blade?”

I quirked my brow at him. “You’ve received all the information you’re getting about that, Consort.”

“Yes, Red Sister.” He’d expected that reply, I saw. He just had to try.

As the saying went, give a thread, take a tapestry.

I ran my gloved hand greedily down from his neck to shoulder and arm; I couldn’t feel his skin but it drew his attention back to its proper place as he realized I hadn’t yet agreed to his bargain: truthful reports in exchange for being spared molestation and…temptation.

Wasn’t that last quality a kick in the teeth.

I tilted my head and covered his mouth with mine in a deep kiss, trapping him by bracing both arms on either side of him against the wardrobe. He tensed immensely, rigid and fearful, but now I knew with some desire as well. My persistence eventually resulted in his opening his mouth for me. It was hot and slick and tasted of fine wine and spice. My hands left the wardrobe and cupped his jaw and sliding my gloved fingers into his hair, holding him steady as I kissed deeper.

I remained ever-aware of the location of his hands. He kept them flat and open, pressed to the wardrobe. It was not a refusal to touch me or a sign of avoidance. He was showing me that he would not take action or steal anything as I had my fill of his mouth. It was a sign of acceptance. My hips moved of their own accord, my mound coming in contact with his member, and, damn him to Lolth, he responded in kind.

I was only torturing myself at this point.

He was shaking again when I drew back; so was I, if I was honest.

This was too dangerous. This had to be the last time.

“Agreed,” I said huskily, releasing his face and dropping my hands to my sides. “I’ll not molest you or tease you at all so long as your intelligence to any Red Sister is the complete truth as you know it.”

My Consort nodded immediately. “Yes. Agreed. Thank you.”

I stepped back from him. Time to go.

I was probably going to regret for the rest of my life that there wasn’t a win-win way to fuck him.

Before leaving, however, I asked him, “Do Consorts have names?”

My eyes detected an energy flare in his face in the dark, even if his expression hadn’t changed much; he’d still had a strong emotional reaction to the question. “Yes. But it’s different with every House we’re given to, and only those in that House can know it.”

How many ways the Priestesses controlled everything they could, even a Consort’s identity.

“Well. I shall call you Auslan, if it’s all the same to you,” I said, mostly on impulse.

He blinked those fine eyes. “Auslan” referred to uncovered treasure in our language. He nodded. “As you wish, Red Sister.”

His tone lacked both apathy and displeasure, though I knew it hadn’t contained delight or satisfaction either. I wondered what emotion he’d just felt, being named in secret yet again?

This time not even the Priestesses knew it.


Though I had taken my time leaving House Itlaun with care so as not to be seen, with the distance grew my frustration and the ache between my legs. I could blame my Consort for it; he never had to admit he would have me, if it were possible. He could have kept that gorgeous mouth shut.

I didn’t care to return and give my report just yet; it could wait. I wanted cock first; real cock, not another Sister, not the Feldeu.

I decided it was time to visit Callitro and see his progress on my request if he wasn’t already finished. I even risked wasting another pregnancy-prevention draught by swallowing it along the way, since it would take me some time to get to the Tower even through my Sisters’ channels.

I had already been delayed or preempted numerous times even trying to see him, or to begin my search for the invisible wizard. D’Shea had been “training” me most of my sleep periods with her Feldeu, making me wear it and increasing my endurance and my control of it, bit by bit. It was very slow going right now.

At this time, I did not like it as much as some Sisters did. True, it was beyond pleasure that I felt when it was bonded to me, but I wanted nothing more than to direct the pace, to wallow in the heat and moisture, to see to my need…and D’Shea wouldn’t allow it. After the first time, I did not get the opportunity take her, to force the penetration when I chose, and to fuck her that willfully, as I had the first time.

I believed that she knew I would take the opening if given it, but only while wearing the Feldeu. Unsettling images came into my mind every time we coupled. Sometimes I thought I wanted to test that composure of hers, to see how it held up under certain acts… such as a rough drilling between her buttocks perhaps, like the Surface Elf who Jaunda had speared. I wanted her presenting to me on her knees.

She often spoke well of my flexibility, but what about hers?

D’Shea had asked once whether I wanted to borrow the large Feldeu. “To use on Gaelan, perhaps?”

I’d been quiet for a long time, conflicted. The pleasure versus the loss of control, the fact that I could easily breech the boundaries of my deal with Gaelan without realizing it. I could easily do something I’d wish I hadn’t later.

My Elder’d had to remind me to answer her: “Yes or no, Sirana?”


She’d noted the reaction and nodded, but didn’t probe me about it.

I knew nothing of how this kind of training may or may not differ from that of other Red Sisters under D’Shea’s hand. I did not even know if D’Shea had introduced all of them to the Feldeu or not, as she had with me. She’d only made it clear that the way it affected me was not typical, thanks to the encounter with the Deurgar.

The Priestess Lelinahdara had worked with just D’Shea and me a few times since my first time wearing a Feldeu. In spite of what my Elder had said about the other Sisters understanding what had happened in the wilderness—about each of them having their own tale—she hadn’t yet made it widely known to them. She had asked me to wait and keep it to myself for now. I figured it was likely the Red Sister Prime knew but she gave no indication, and neither did Rausery or anyone else.

Lelinahdara tried to bring the imprint to the surface, even exorcise it, and get that knowledge about the Duergar that we wanted. It had not worked yet, and I was not enjoying those trials. I could agree to cooperate while conscious, I could even open my legs and don the Feldeu to “open the connection,” as the Priestess said…but it changed drastically when she worked her magic on me in that alternated state in which my self-control was greatly weakened anyway.

I was only lucky D’Shea believed Lelinahdara when she said that it was the nature of the imprint, that it was not willful disobedience. Apparently the Duergar that I had killed had had significant willpower and stubbornness as qualities of his nature.

“The divine magic is not softening the resistance when I can sense it, and I can only sense it when she wears the phallus,” the Priestess had said quietly, wiping her forehead. “I think we are using the wrong kind of energy. We may need a psion, Elder.”

Finding one of those on our side in the Underdark would be like finding diamonds encrusted on a living spider. As far as I knew, D’Shea and Lelinahdara were still “researching.” As for me, I could wait. I did not want to obsess about a memory.

I still felt completely myself when I did not wear the magical phallus; there were no dreams or reveries, no impulses or thoughts that seemed alien to me. It was only when I wore the erection and was flooded with its magic that I became confused, and so far, I’d worn it only with D’Shea. I noted, after the first failed attempts to clean out my head, that she did not offer to let me borrow the Feldeu again.

I could still allow penetration of myself, though, anytime that I wanted.

And after my too-revealing meeting with Auslan, I wanted Callitro as a reasonable, much safer substitute. I was going to the Tower; hopefully I wouldn’t be interrupted like the first and only time I’d been there.

I’d been doing a little more research about the place since becoming a Red Sister, for obvious reasons perhaps, but also because I finally noted that wizards had been a rarity at Court. Yet there were last counted to be one-hundred and twenty-three of them in the City, all with permanent quarters at the Tower.

This was a clear contrast to the females who developed a talent for magic. They studied at Court or sometimes with a private tutor at their own House. There were two-hundred and forty-six of them in the City at last count.

The school and dormitories for male wizards was commonly called the Tower because it loomed over all but the Palace which also housed the Priesthood. It could be called free-standing, I supposed. It had been built into and around a gigantic, natural column, where a stalagmite and stalactite had met in the middle of the cavern’s floor and ceiling. There were many levels, all basically circular in floor plan, though the largest few floors both at the base and the crown of the structure contained only either twenty or so individual quarters or three to four larger functional rooms, such as a kitchen or cleaning room. The center levels were smaller than that, and I knew there had to be room made for libraries and archives, in addition to the large set of Drow wizards with their many specialties.

I understood the male wizards were functionally a very solitary group, eating, sleeping, and studying alone for a better portion of their time. It didn’t mean, however, that they didn’t receive “customers” or gossip amongst each other in different parts of the Tower, or have some of the largest sets of pointed ears catching all that was whispered whenever they had a purpose for leaving it.

Hoarding knowledge was their basis for living, after all. If any single, male-oriented group could ever pose a threat to the Valsharess, it would likely be the wizards—assuming they could work together for long enough, which wasn’t likely. But it was still one reason they were not allowed to come to Court without invitation, and were not allowed free-reign to wander the Drow City unescorted.

Some Drow chose to trade that tighter leash for the knowledge and practice of magic, and some simply demonstrated the proficiency while young and were forcibly relocated. I had a standing bet with myself that my invisible wizard had been of the latter category. He had not behaved as if he had willingly moved into the Tower.

Callitro, on the other hand, had gone willingly. He’d told me during our first visit. I was allowed to see him because the Red Sister Prime knew and approved, and Callitro’s own headmaster, Phaelous, also knew. This was the one area where I was required to have my comings and goings noted; even a Red Sister wasn’t exempt.

On the whole, I thought, not many Red Sisters visited this place unless they were on assignment for straight execution, with a document signed by the Valsharess. Phaelous could not bar the Sister entrance, but there were simply no stealth-killings of wizards in the Tower. Unless it was from among their own.

“Sister,” the headmaster acknowledged as I approached the first gate, which had no physical guards. “Your name and purpose?”

I’d heard his voice on the air when I passed the first ward signaling my approach.

I thought back the answer as it began to get harder to step forward over the mushroom field leading to the second gate. *Sirana, to receive an update from Callitro in person.*

I heard an amused grunt. “You’ve taken an infertility draught?”

I rolled my eyes. *Yes.*

“Proceed. The constructs will let you pass.”

The second gate was guarded by two of the same kind of pale-skinned giants that had guarded the main chamber leading to the Valsharess’s throne room. I was glad I didn’t have to speak to them the way D’Shea had, but I tensed, ready to move fast if they did.

As the elderly wizard had said, though, they just stayed still and let me pass without looking at me.

I wondered, since my invisible wizard had said my name in that chamber all those months ago and I would need to identify myself every time I came here, whether he already knew very well that I had purpose here.

Possibly. If he did, it would make it harder to identify him if he decided to hide.

The stone double-doors parted as I approached; they didn’t open wide, but only enough for me to slip through. Phaelous stood on the other side in an otherwise empty and sparsely decorated lobby. He had very nearly solid blonde hair; it implied at first that he was older even than the Valsharess, but then I looked at his eyes. He was not as old as She, probably by a few centuries if I hazarded a guess, but his life and the magic he practiced had taken its toll. He was pre-maturely gold, but still respectfully aged.

He smiled at me, which surprised me just like it had the first time. I did not know why except that it showed creases and fine lines that I simply was not used to seeing. His eyes may be younger, but the lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth were far deeper than the Valsharess’s.

“Welcome, young Red Sister. As you are not here with an executive order then the rules of preservation apply on these grounds.”

“I know. No maiming, disfigurement, poisoning, or any action that would debilitate a wizard lastingly in applying his trade.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Callitro is still on the seventeenth level, room five. Please do not deviate from your path.”

Phaelous had lost whatever mystique he ever held for the Red Sisters long ago, I saw it in his eyes, although there was absolutely nothing wrong with his manners. It was just as well that we spoke frankly. He lived on the bottom floor and managed a lot of the Tower from there; the entrance to this place was solid, warded, protected.

It still made me wonder what “fail-safes” the ruling bodies would no doubt have. This place couldn’t be impregnable to all females or it wouldn’t be allowed to exist. Still, at this point in time, I wasn’t sure how I was going to find a way to identify the wizard from my trial, certainly not if I couldn’t wander around the place, or even get in without a reason.

Fortunately my primary purpose this time was to get my favorite toy between my legs. Nice and simple. I could do that.

A body passed from level to level, and sometimes around a level, via teleportation circles; aside from the small windows coiling around the Tower and allowing one to look out over the City, the place was sealed into compartments. I supposed stairs were impractical, as was cutting consecutive holes in each floor through which to levitate. The former was slow and potentially dangerous, while the latter was a literal bottleneck if many needed to move at once, and could compromise the sound construction.

I did not need to actively use magic to use the circles; it would work for any of Drow blood who made it past Phaelous. I went from the base to level seventeen in a heartbeat and a slight surge of stomach upset. I could immediately smell spice and eclectic components, old fiberstalk parchment and burning candles. There was a very small stone pressed into the wall about every ten feet which glowed magically, but very mellow. My eyes adjusted and I could see the hall bending around the curve on both sides of me. Because of the light, I could see the door to my left was labeled “17-1″ and the door to my right was labeled “17-12″. Callitro’s room was just across from me, if I could walk through the center support column.

I was aware of at least one door sliding open slightly as I walked past, and I said without looking back, “About your business.”

The door immediately closed again.

Suppressing a smile, I reached 17-5 quickly and placed my gloved hand on a smooth piece of polished stone on the right side of the door.

“Who is there?” I could hear Callitro’s muffled voice through the thin stone.

I took my hand off the soundless door-summons. Phaelous could have given him warning; interesting that he hadn’t. “Guess.”

My eager battle mage managed to open the door very quickly and was consciously pressing his lips together, remaining silent until I could step inside and have the door shut behind us.

“Red Sister, a pleasure to—”

“Take off your robe.”

He blinked. “I…um—huh?”

I closed the space between us, starting to tug at his wizard’s belt as I said to him, “Are you finished with my ring? Yes or no?”

“Um, no, that’s what—”

“Then we fuck now. If we have time later, we’ll talk.”

Callitro nodded, his eyes wide as it struck him that perhaps he should begin to get in the mood, right now. He looked down at my hands just as I released the cinch on his waist. “H-here, let me—”

He took his own belt lined with pouches from me and placed it very gently atop a low array of parchment on his workbench. He removed his rings from his fingers and an amulet from around his neck. His study robe was different from his battle one in that it opened in front and folded over itself, the dark skin of his chest showing only in a thin “V.” I seized it once he’d removed his belt and magic items, taking hold and pushing it open like a set of drapes.

Some lithe flesh was revealed, but there was another knot securing the robe at his waist on the inside, and I plucked impatiently at that to tug it loose. Callitro smothered a snicker in his throat.

“I heard that.”

“Apologies, Red Sister. Do you want me to—?”

I slapped his hand away. “I have it.”

I unthreaded the knot in reasonable time and found myself staring at a rather heavy-looking package as my hands went by feel to his shoulders and pushed the fabric off him, where it felt to his sandaled feet in a heap. I saw his cock jump once, his testicles contracting slightly in the abrupt change in temperature but quickly recovering as his erection started to grow.

“You’re staring.”

Fortunately for him, he didn’t sound completely casual or teasing—I could hear just enough nervousness that I didn’t feel the need to put the fear of the Red Sisters into him just yet.

And I definitely was staring. By all appearances, he thought it exciting enough. He wasn’t as graceful or as beautiful as Auslan, but he would do quite nicely.

I looked upwards, happy to see a reasonably high ceiling and various plants and parts drying on ropes hanging from hooks.

“You have a spare few of those, I expect?” I asked, pointing up at the suspended spell components.

He glanced up, looked at me slightly bewildered but nodded.

“Set one up, then wrap the rope loosely around your wrists and hold on to it. Your hands will remain above your head every moment until I say otherwise.”

Based on this second hesitation, I was beginning to suspect that Callitro probably hadn’t gotten out of the Tower a lot, and when he had, those he may have served had been…well, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, they hadn’t made him do this, or at least not this quickly, without any playing or flirting.

It was amusing to think he’d invited me to approach him so openly at the worship ball, excited and dazzled by my outfit, not really knowing what he was submitting to… although I supposed my impulsive kiss after the fight with the Illithids had definitely confused the matter. What did he think, that I would just embrace him in full uniform again, or allow him the same? Neither of us could afford to be that stupid a second time.

I waited impatiently, tense and letting Callitro see the hunger on my face, my gaze raking him again and again as he retrieved a longer strand of rope with a clip-link on one end. His erection had diminished but I knew that was only temporary; I was doing plenty to make him nervous. His hands shook slightly as he stood on a chair to snap the link in place on an open hook. He tested the hold and stepped off the chair again, pushing it out of the way. Glancing at me again, he began winding the rope several times around his wrists, until it was short enough to be over his head, his arms at a bent and relaxed angle.

“Is this…satisfactory?” he asked.

I nodded. It was. I could see his hands, complex gestures were beyond him, and he was completely naked but for his sandals.

I finally pulled off my gloves, tucking them at my waist, and stepped forward to begin caressing his body. He gasped softly and his erection slowly began to harden again. As I kneeled down to remove his sandals for him, I smelled the rich scent coming from his groin; on impulse I nuzzled the trimmed fur at the base of his cock and he made a small sound which he had tried to swallow.

He helped push the sandals out of the way a moment before I opened my mouth and engulfed his member, wanting to taste him now. My tongue flicked madly, my lips were tight around him and he went completely rigid; he would have gargled in his throat if I hadn’t just heard him swallow. I was still in excellent practice thanks to the Sisters and massaged and manipulated his sex with my mouth, my lips and tongue, even with my teeth. I teased the soft spot on the underside of his shaft, applying pin-pointed pressure with my tongue, and sometimes I used my thumb and forefinger to tug and roll at the bit of loose skin just beneath the tender ridge on which I nibbled in between longer strokes.

Callitro began to whimper in helpless abandon as my treatment got more intense and I saw him shaking his head when I looked up; he’d been doing it for a while. I slowed and took another look at him; his wrists were still loosely bound by the rope but his hands gripped the slack, the tension very apparent. His eyes were closed and his teeth were gritted.

“S-Sister…I-I…won’t last long,” he said when he had the breath again to speak. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t know….you were coming, I didn’t prepare—”

“Shut up and spurt in my mouth.”

His eyes popped open, wide in disbelief for only a second before I started on him again, stroking and mouthing him with an increasingly demanding pace. I saw his eyes roll once and he lost focus, his body getting tighter as he fast approached his release.

“Ah…oh, Lolth…ah, ah, yes!” he gasped, and his lovely cock swelled up once more between my lips before flexing and loosing the first shot of his fluid into my mouth. His voice left him as he finished his climax hanging from the rope, five or six more strong jets striking the back or roof of my mouth as he shuddered again and again. His legs weakened but he kept hold on the rope by pure reflex.

I collected every drop, but didn’t swallow it quite yet.

Standing up slowly after sucking my mouth off him, I was looking down at him now. I took hold of his chin and made him look at me. I had a smirk on my face which at least told him he should be more wary of something, and eventually it occurred to him that I hadn’t spoken because I still had something in my mouth.

I read in the next instant that he was, at best, neutral with the thought of tasting his own seed in a very wet kiss. I was horny enough to figure that meant he wouldn’t choke on it.

I drew out the kiss, my hands caressing his flanks, gripping and playing hard with his buttocks, until Callitro made a sound. Any sound, I didn’t really care, but when he made it, it was a peep that told me I was either hurting him or he was past the limit of his tolerance and might actually try to jerk away.

It was good enough to make me laugh, finally lifting my mouth off him.

“You are very, very tasty, Callitro,” I murmured, grinning wide and running my thumb over the fragrant, mixed fluids wetting his chin. My own mouth and cheeks were chilling quickly as well but I was far more used to it than he was. Certain Red Sisters could squirt a lot more.

He swallowed and licked his lips before pursing them again. The wariness reduced a little at the words of approval and he cleared his throat. “I’m glad you think so, Red Sister.”

But he didn’t agree. How sad that he wasn’t more proud of the intoxicating effect of his semen on a female. It made me chuckle again.

“Well. Now that you’ll last longer the second time…” I began significantly, removing first my weapons and then my own belt, setting them each in turn on the floor by his bed.

Callitro swiveled to watch me begin to unbuckle my bracers. His hands started to loosen on the rope. “Shall I—?”

“Don’t you dare let go,” I growled, and he went still and quiet again.

The wizard watched and hardly blinked as I disrobed, removing my uniform piece by piece. I was very efficient about it, and it was certainly not for his visual benefit, even though his mouth was open as he stared.

I could see the difference between us that fascinated him, even past our gender; we were both young and of an age, only a decade or two apart, and of a healthy weight. However, it was apparent that I was very physical, doing whatever I did outside, and he was not, mostly being kept in the Tower. Neither of us were what one might call muscular compared to many other races, no Drow was. Even the Red Sisters relied far more on speed, dexterity, and endurance than strength to kill. But the definition and tone of my muscles was stark, and his much more subtle.

In spite of his high interest in seeing me naked, however, he still hadn’t had enough time to recover physically. When I touched him, nothing obstructing the heat coming off our skins, he grimaced and shrugged apologetically as he remained limp. I half-smiled; in truth I was glad. I wanted to try out something on my tool belt for the first time. It was why I’d hurried the first round. For whatever reason, it worked better, and for much longer, after the target had already orgasmed once.

“I could create a potion perhaps—” he began but I cut him off.

“That would take longer than to simply wait for your rebound.” I bent over to pluck my belt off the floor and quickly nudged open a pouch.

“What’s that?” he asked immediately upon seeing me straighten up.

I smirked and held a white, elongated and waxy substance in my open palm. It was a little smaller than my thumb and had been compressed into a smooth, cylindrical shape with soft, blunt ends. We Sisters called it an interrogation tool of sorts, but I could also use it to hurry things up so I could get my own release.

The young battle mage was tense as I went around behind him; I heard him suck in a breath when my breasts pressed to his back and I reached one arm around to draw him close. My other hand held the suppository between thumb and middle finger, and I began to work it between his buttocks.

He jumped and tried to draw away from me. He sounded slightly panicked as I held him tighter. “What are you doing, Red Sister?”

“Providing a short cut. Trust me, you won’t care in a few moments.”

“No, you don’t have to drug me, please—”

“Think of it as a solid version of that potion you offered to make, except that it’s ready immediately and will have the same effect.”

He squirmed and began working very hard to avoid having something inserted into his backside. As long as he held on tight to the rope, which he did, I considered it that he was just playing hard to get.

I would get impatient soon, though; I didn’t have all the time in the Underdark.

“Callitro,” I growled warningly, “You’ve had your release. I will have mine. It’s fair.”

“Please, Red Sister, it’s dry and I’ve never…taken anything—”

“You jest.”

“No. Sister, you’re only my third, and the other two weren’t interested in that part of me at all!” He was gasping from his efforts and his anxiety.

“Well, relax, it won’t hurt as much.”

“I can’t, not in this position…” he continued to protest and resist.

I almost got angry and frustrated enough to just use force….except that he might be even less cooperative the next time. Right now, he was my only way into the Tower. At least a little finesse was required here, even if there wasn’t enough time to do a proper job seducing him again. Besides, he’d given me an opening, a concession implying he would accept in exchange for his submission.

“I see,” I said, trying to sound a little less overbearing. “Let go of the rope, then.”

He did so slowly, unwinding it from his wrists and lowering his arms as though they were stiff. He rubbed at his wrists and looked at me without holding eye contact for long. I nodded toward his simple bed in the corner of the room.

“On your knees. Get comfortable, and I would try to relax if I were you. I won’t be happy with you if we are interrupted again before I get what I came here for.”

The battle mage nodded and obeyed, getting on all fours, although he was still tense as any virgin with his back hunched up.

I got behind him, kneeling between his legs and pressing my hand onto his lower back. “Arch your back.”

He complied, self-conscious about the added exposure and easier access he’d just provided.

I tentatively touched the white insert to the tip on my tongue, intending to wet it that way, but the instant I felt a tingle I stopped, making a face. I supposed it had to be the other way; I didn’t want to waste more time searching for some kind of lubricant in his rather disorganized living-and-working quarters. Not only that, but knowing my luck today, it would be some substance that would interfere with this suppository even working properly. I already knew it worked just fine with natural body fluids.

I leaned down and parted him a little more with my hands, flicking my tongue against his puckered hole. He squealed in surprise.

“Hold still!” I said from between his cheeks before continuing to lick him, using plenty of my saliva to make him wet.

“Sur-surprised me.” He gasped loudly when I stiffened my oral probe and pierced him a few times. “That… feels good, Red Sister,” he admitted, perhaps hoping to get on my good side again.

“It should.”

I leaned back up and positioned one blunt end of the insert into the center of his ring. He tightened up by reflex but I just waited a moment until it had passed, and then pressed in with my index finger, smoothly opening him up. The salvia definitely helped.

He grunted. “It’s…doing something—”

Then he yelped as I pushed not only the rest of the substance into him but half my finger as well, making sure it would stay inside his body where it could dissolve completely and enter his bloodstream. I withdrew when it felt like many tiny bubbles were fizzing around my finger.

Callitro was gripping the blankets as his breathing quickened and he trembled, looking back at me with wide eyes. Knowing more magic and alchemy than the average Drow, he was much more afraid of what had just been introduced to his system than someone blissfully ignorant. I felt sorry for him that he couldn’t just relax and enjoy the ride.

I reached between his legs to caress his delicate sack, soon sliding forward to wrap my fingers around a quickly hardening cock. I stroked him, and he moaned. Excellent.

“On your back, Callitro,” I cooed, and he got down and rolled over, my favorite toy jutting up proudly and ready for use in record time. I wasted no more of it; I counted myself lucky that I hadn’t received a summons already.

“You will hold back your release until I say you may have it. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” he gasped, and I ignored the lack of my title to save time.

I straddled my playmate and set to pierce myself on him, to get him as far inside me as possible. Even better, I knew he could squirt and line my channel with his real, delightful semen, it could be such volume as to leak out all over my thighs and his balls, and it would pose no threat to me.

I rode him energetically; oh, it was wonderful, so familiar…my first real coupling with a male since I was a Noble. I loved his cries of abandon and echoed them, the slap of our flesh and the sucking wetness harmonizing with a hard fuck. I think we got louder than I would have thought wise—the battle mage didn’t care, he was barely aware of anything but the overwhelming strokes along his sex—but I didn’t care to cover his mouth, either…it was exactly what I needed to ramp myself up higher each time.

*One…two….oh, Lolth, please let’s go for a third…!*

Callitro’s fingers were digging in hard to my hips as he started grinding his teeth loud enough that I heard it. “Please…please…it hurts…”

I leaned down, still rolling my hips along his length, hissing luridly, “Only if you suck my cunt as I sit on your face.”

He nodded urgently. “Yes….yes! Anything, Sister!”

“Then squirt it all inside my hungry twat, wizard. I’m ready to drain you dry.”

He yelled as he came, muscles standing out in his neck from the strain as he jerked and pulsed inside me. I barely gave him time to finish before I lifted off him and crawled up to straddle his face next so he could make good on our agreement.

Unlike when he was completely sober, he did not hesitate now to stick his tongue where he had just deposited his seed. He gripped my backside with both hands. I laughed and moaned in delight, feeling his eager tongue and lips sucking and throttling my sex. I quickly came again for that third and final time then I smeared our mixed juices farther across his face, marking him just for fun, before I climbed off.

Callitro couldn’t get up; he lay naked and coated in sweat and fluid on his bed. I knew he’d be partially paralyzed for a few hours after the rush and crushing orgasm that had hit him triggered the next stage of the suppository. His head lolled from side to side, he could speak, if slowly, and he could lift his hand in a vague gesture if he really tried, but that was about it. His eyes were lazy, half-closed, and he murmured something unintelligible as I helped myself to his wash basin to clean myself up.

“W-when…?” he asked louder, only as I began quickly dressing myself.

“You’ll be able to walk in a few hours,” I said matter-of-factly. I knew from personal experience, after all. “Relax and enjoy it. You’ll be fine.”

“N-no…when might you return?”

I paused and quirked my brow. “I have no way to know. But I think that’s just the drug in your system talking. You might be ready for a break from me when you come down.”

He smiled lazily at me; supreme satisfaction lined his seed-smeared face. “Oh…but they were…r-right.”

I simply had to finish dressing and arming myself at that point, double-checking everything before I could pause again, even though this comment sent an insistent demand through my clearing head. Now that I wasn’t so damned fuck-stupid, I would take advantage yet again. The suppository was working as it should; not only so powerful that it eventually forced an orgasm, but made the paralysis following it an ideal a period of time where one might get any surprising bit of truth from the recipient.

“‘They’ were right about what, Callitro?”

“About Red Sisters…your hunger…is legendary…”

Silly fawning. I approached the bed, looking down at him. “Who are ‘they’?”

“Elder wizzzards,” he slurred, blinking blearily at me.

“And what do they know of our hunger?”

“Sisters have always used them…like you used me.”

I folded my arms. “Any they enjoy it?”

“Not all. But ssome…times…any female is…welcome here. A Red Sissster… overpowering. So beautiful…strong…deadly.”

I could guess I was listening to a type of heroine worship now, rather than real information. It seemed Callitro had heard from other wizards some titillating sex stories and he had wanted to try it himself. Now that he had…? Well, I’d wait until he sobered up to see that. He couldn’t have heard that many *accurate* stories if he wasn’t comfortable with me putting something in his ass.

Still. There was knowledge here if I asked the right question.

“Do you know of any who do not enjoy being used by a Red Sister, Callitro,” I asked quietly and levelly.

He was silent for a few moments, blinked twice, and finally answered slowly, “I think so. Posssibly.”

“Their names?”

“Raegel and Shyntre…Oran, perhapss…” He stopped.

“Why do you think so? Have they bedded down with one that you know?”

“I don’ know. They speak ill of the Sissters…if you come up….I’ve argued…beffore.”

It did sound promising, although I bore in mind that Callitro wouldn’t necessarily come in contact with every dissenter in the Tower. Now, was my wizard the type who would vocally complain to other wizards? I thought he might be; he had too much temper to remain totally silent if someone romanticized us.

“Which levels are they on?” I asked.

“Raegel and Shyntre are just above me. Oran is two below.”

Eighteen and Fifteen. Alright.

There was a sound, a small ding that drifted into the air, and then a voice just outside the door and I tensed.

“Callitro? Are you in there?”

He ignored the voice, staring glaze-eyed up at his ceiling. I went still and listened harder.

There was a second one, I heard a hand brush the door in a different spot and there was enough time a shared gesture exchange if they were communicating at all.

The first one called again, louder. “Callitro?”

My training said to remain stealthy and not give myself away; under most circumstances, that would be to my advantage. But really, what was the point here? We’d clearly been heard, more than one knew I was here, and Callitro’s status would change in some way now that I’d been here.

I felt like opening the door, very suddenly, and I did not suppress the wide grin as they both blurted a curse and stumbled back from me. The speaker even stepped on his robes and fell on his backside.

I moved into the hall and backing them up further. I left the door open behind me. “I’m afraid he’s not in condition for gossip quite yet. Surely you can wait.”

Both wizards had enormous eyes and seemed unable to decide what to do.

“Do either of you have quarters just one up,” I pointed toward the ceiling.

They glanced at each other, taking time to absorb the abrupt question, and the first shook his head in the negative. “We live here.”

“Retrieve one. Bring him here.”

I leaned against Callitro’s entrance casually and folded my arms; clearly I was not leaving.

Another glance, then one finally found his voice. “Who?”

Why not? Catch a spider by a leg…pick any leg.

“Either Raegel or Shyntre.”

I saw an interesting reaction in the second, very quiet one; it was a change in his brow and eyes that seemed one of recognition, and I focused on him, trusting the timing to be natural and not delayed. “Wait. Make it Shyntre specifically.”

The second one nodded before the first one did; now I knew it was the right choice. There was a connection here, and the second wizard thought he knew a reason for my presence and my command. I was glad someone knew. Maybe this wasn’t “my” wizard, but I was going to take anything I could from this.

Then again, it just might be.

“You go,” I motioned to the second wizard. “Tell him Callitro said he was right and he needs to talk to him. Don’t make one gesture about me. Remember I know where you reverie. And you,” the first wizard frowned slightly, “stay until he returns.”

After a subtle swallow, they both complied. The second wizard didn’t seem too hesitant, so I could assume the story was not one he would have trouble telling.

I had the first one come into Callitro’s room with me and close the door; he inhaled the scent in the room on reflex and stared open-mouthed at his level-mate’s reclining, nude, and very sticky body. The young battle mage was unconscious by this point; it was the eventuality if one didn’t actively work to keep them semi-aware and talking. It worked for me.

I reached to close my hand on the back of the wizard’s neck and the stress just coursed through him.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Just let them in when they come back, and don’t touch anything but the door. I’ll be standing behind you; don’t give me away. Do this and I won’t touch you.”

He nodded.

I couldn’t do much about the almost tangible tension in the air, but hopefully one could think it had more to do with Callitro supposedly confessing to the other wizard when the two of them showed up. I blew out the one candle that lit the room and stepped back into a smaller area of the room, going very still.

We waited as our eyes adjusted.

The standing wizard in the room seemed to breathe only when the soft ding sounded again, announcing someone at the door. He opened it readily. “Yes, yes, come in. He’s asked for you, Shyntre.”

Not bad, and nice of him to confirm the identity for me. His voice wavered, however; he’d have to work on that.

The second wizard looked around, clearly bewildered and looking for another, and I had to slip behind them just as the new arrival noticed and started to tense.

The door shut with a dull thump and all three jumped, the two from this floor uttering curses again, moving back from me and closer to Callitro’s bed. The two no-names glanced back at the body on the bed again, but the one from the floor above didn’t. He stared right at me.

In that one moment I could determine he was about the right height, older than any of these three by a century if it was a cycle. His experienced, reasonably handsome face was completely still and he made no reflexive or sudden moves, but I saw the incredible spike of life energy starting in his chest and blooming in all directions. A fight or flight response. I could barely hear his heartbeat in the next moment.

I needed only one thing more to determine if it was my uniform or my face to which he had reacted so strongly.

June 2018
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