Shackles of Hate. Chapter 25: Of Schemes and Plots

By: SinfulWolf

Sipping at a glass of wine, Lelthina watched the sun rise over the city of Driftafay as she looked out her open window. Her sheer robes flowed gently around her as the breeze wafted into the room, the richly tailored garb open to let show bare skin. Though the robe did nothing to hide what it did cover. As shadows began to very slowly retreat from the streets and buildings of the city, Lelthina wished she had a balcony to stand upon. Telva’s room certainly did. She could stand out there dressed as she was, without any real concern of anyone seeing her nakedness, so high above the city. Not that it mattered if they did, it seemed more and more of them were following the dark Goddess whose claws seem to sink ever deeper into the lands of humans and elves each time the sun rose.

Just like that the once purely political desire to have the Winterstone Princess removed had turned personal once again in the governess’s mind. Absently she licked her lips, letting her thoughts drift back to the woman whose fault it was. Lillium had gotten into her mind so firmly, so that now, after an evening of passionate sex with the rather skilled Sienna, Lelthina was daydreaming about the succubus again. Chewing on her lip as she remembered those last moments Lillium had spent in the abandoned farmhouse.

Turning away from the window she looked at Sienna, still sleeping, sheets draped only over her hips. The slow rise and fall of her breasts, nipples stiff from the slight chill of the breeze washing into the room. Lelthina touched the marks on her own breast as she set her wine down and moved towards her bed. In her mind she knew it had been a mistake to take Sienna to her bed. But Lelthina had needed it, and now that the mistake had been made she merely wanted it. And a queen could take whatever she wanted.

As she reached the foot of her bed, Sienna’s eyes opened slowly. She looked up at her new lover with that smirk that was quickly shifting from insufferable to endearing. Even attractive in its own way. Reaching up to her shoulders, Lelthina let her robe fall away, and began to crawl onto the bed, pulling the sheets away. Sienna shifted, watching as her superior started kissing her toes, her feet, her shins. Slowly Lelthina worked her way upwards, earning a deeper breathing from the captain.

There were no words, just a slight gasp as Lelthina let her lips begin to trail along Sienna’s lean thigh. Then a moan when tongue lashed out between the tart lips of her cunt. Reaching above herself, Sienna grasped the headboards, and let out something close to a whimper when Lelthina’s kisses continued to climb higher. Moving across the hard muscle of her stomach, and to the curves of her breasts. Sienna’s display of Elvish perfection. Letting her tongue swirl around each nipple slowly in turn. Letting the warm trails cool under the breeze that washed into the room. Bit gently at each one, drawing fresh moans from the soldier.

Still Lelthina climbed higher. Dragging her breasts over Sienna’s body now. Licking and kissing at the captain’s neck, her jaw. Finally their lips met, each tasting lingering flavours of themselves upon the lips of the other. On the dancing tongues of the other. In this room, there was no rank or authority. Just a desire to taste the skin of the other. To give and take pleasure from the other. Then Lelthina broke the kiss. Straddling her lover now she continued to climb. Now feeling Sienna’s lips and tongue on her skin. Just as eager as the night before. Gentler though. Savouring the flavours.

Her thighs continued to move upwards, the tips of her breasts gliding over an outstretched tongue and moist lips. Lelthina let her own moan out now, as she moved higher. Felt Sienna’s hands move away from the headboard to run down her sides. Ghosting over her ribs as lips found a rising stomach. A tongue dipping into a passing navel.

Then hands grasped Lelthina’s rear. Squeezed it tightly, as her pussy settled over Sienna’s mouth. Lelthina let out a gentle moan at the soft kiss that started. The caress of lips upon her entrance. The gentle push of tongue to open her. To reveal her intimacy. Then the tongue pushed inwards. Not far, playing and caressing just inside. Making Lelthina’s hips start to move. To grind against the face beneath her. Earning more earnest motions of the tongue. Gliding from the lips of her cunt to the glistening button of her clit. Flicking over it, letting her lip drag across it.

Now the governess held the headboard, her back arched with breasts pushed outwards. She moaned hungrily to the ceiling, as she rode her lover’s face. Let that tongue coax her deeper into infatuation with a woman that was supposed to be her enemy. To draw her deeper into a faith that should be outlawed. Fingers curled tightly over the top of the headboard, Lelthina’s hips rocked hard and eagerly. Hands grasped her rear, squeezing tightly, pulling at those rear cheeks.

The governess just let her moans pour out, not caring who heard. Indeed, she somewhat hoped someone did. The rumours they could spark might actually help her current path.

Nails now dragged down her stomach, and her head lowered. Unbound hair hung before her breasts as she breathed out her pleasure in low sounds, her hips refusing to stop moving. Grinding ever harder against Sienna’s mouth, feeling the captain’s tongue caressing inside her.

Hands then grasped her hips, and Lelthina felt herself flipped over. Her hands torn from the head board as her back hit pillows and blankets. Hips lifted upwards, the governess wrapped her legs firmly around Sienna’s diving head. Pulling her tighter against her needy cunt. She moaned loudly again, one hand upon her own breast and squeezing, the other grasping a pillow tight. Sienna’s breasts pressed firmly against the back of Lelthina’s thighs, hard nipples near digging into the skin.

When her orgasm finally started to wash over her, Lelthina’s hand snapped upwards. Grasping Sienna by the hair and pulling down. The captain’s eyes flicked up, staring down at her superior along the expanse of her naked form. Her lips and tongue still working eagerly to guide the noblewoman through the heights of her bliss. Higher into pleasure, and deeper into her carnal desires. When her climax finally struck, Lelthina threw her head back and let her moan sound out loud and clear. Her toes curling behind Sienna’s head.

Only then did the captain slow. Letting the ministrations of her tongue become a crawl until legs had relaxed enough for her to escape their clutch. She knelt there, her face and neck smeared in glistening juices. Her smirk slowly creeping over her features as she looked down at her lover. Watching Lelthina slowly regain her breath. Then, Sienna lowered herself, and gently kissed the governess. For a moment their lips merely caressed, until Lelthina opened her mouth to let the captain’s tongue in. Tasting herself in that slow kiss. When it finally broke they stared at each other a long moment.

“Are you hoping for something in return?” Lelthina told the other woman, trying to match that smirk, unsure if she managed to succeed.

“Always. But I shall wait for the next time,” Sienna replied, and Lelthina was impressed by the woman’s arrogance. Once again, the bloodthirsty soldier was right; there would be a next time.

“Good. You know what Lillium wants. The sooner she gets her prize the sooner I can claim the crown of Winterstone.”

“And the sooner you can fuck her.”

“I wasn’t the only one drooling in that farmhouse,” Lelthina ran her thumb along Sienna’s lower lip as she spoke, then brought it to her own mouth and let her tongue flick across it. Sienna just kept her smirk, giving Lelthina the answer she wanted. In her mind, the governess had to congratulate the captain. She was one of only two she would allow such crass words. Though, the thought of Lillium made her think it may be three.

“Just remember who you serve,” Lelthina said, and Sienna replied by leaning down and wrapping her lips around a nipple and slowly dragging her tongue over it. Coaxing a small moan from Lelthina, and starting to stir the embers of lust again.

“Go now. See to your company. Start spreading your faith, start recruiting, start purging. Do whatever you need to do to ensure I have a purely loyal company and that there are those loyal to me among the others. When you have enough to capture Telva, come find me.”

“At once… my queen,” Sienna purred, lifting her head from Lelthina’s breasts, letting her hair glide along that perfect skin.

The captain rose from the bed, slowly dressing in a style that was more Morkatan influenced. The leather pants near skin tight, the tunic almost a corset. It was dangerous, but Lelthina let the card be played. The sword was strapped to her hip, and the captain even bowed before departing.

Sienna was proving to be more than a pawn, and Lelthina had all intentions to use that piece to its full advantage. She laid back and savoured the afterglow of sex for a few moments longer, until she heard a soft knock at her door. Almost dainty.

“Enter,” she called, not bothering to cover herself. She had never been one for much modesty, but lately she found herself savouring her own sexuality more and more.

A slight elven woman entered. She wore a richly tailored dress though no jewellery, and her makeup made her look rather pretty. Deliah closed the door behind her, then turned and bowed to Lelthina. She didn’t make any observations about Lelthina’s state of undress. And being the governess’s handmaiden for the past twenty years, she undoubtedly knew about the affair that had begun the night before.

“You asked to see me first thing my lady. I figured to wait until your guest left,” Deliah said as she rose.

“There is no need to be coy. We both know that I was fucking in here,” Lelthina said as she slipped out of bed and slipped on her sheer robe once more. She glanced over at her handmaiden, as if first recognizing her attractiveness. Lelthina pondered then if there was something to be said for this corruption she’d heard about.

More, she pondered if it even mattered. She’d set her path, and corrupted or not she would see it through. Deliah didn’t acknowledge the eyes raking over her overtly, but she knew. She came forward.

“You’ve always preferred tact before my lady. If you rather I drop it I can. At least in private of course,” the woman said, and Lelthina wondered if the woman was utterly submissive, or just too damn loyal to even gather ambitions of her own.

“Drop it in private. Now, you know what you must do?” Lelthina said, walking with swaying hips to her table to recollect her glass of wine. Taking a slow sip she then moved to her desk and picked up a small scroll.

“Of course. I have also gathered the forged letters from Pharno. The letters will all be dispatched within the hour,” Deliah said, holding out her hand. Lelthina set the scroll into her handmaiden’s grip, and watched the woman bow again and turn to walk towards the door.

“Deliah. I want you to look into something for me,” she said then, and the handmaiden turned, an eyebrow raised with curiosity.

“If you can do it without Pharno knowing the better. But start looking into this cult of Morkate. Find out how many in the city worship her, and how quickly this cult is spreading. Both amongst elves and humans.”

The eyebrow levelled out and the handmaiden bowed once more without expression. As she left and let the door close behind her, Lelthina turned again to the window and looked out over the awakening city and took a long sip of her wine.

Corruption or not, she would wear the crown of Winterstone, and she would break the Coalition from within. And from the ashes she would rebuild, and the Kazdruk would find the true terror that could reside in the Elves.


Walking out through the open gates of Castle Volgras, Sarya lifted her head towards the sun. She breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes, savouring the feel of it on her face. Lifting her hands, she ran fingertips from beneath her eyes and down her form. Feeling the tight leather tunic she’d been given by Lillium, the undersides of the cups looking as if they’d been slashed open, showing the soft underside of her breasts, curving slightly towards the centre. Hands down lower to the leather skirt hugging her hips and cut low in the rear to show the cleft of her ass.

It felt heavenly to be out of the dungeon finally. To be well fed and sexually satiated. A chamber to herself, and even a slave. Collared and currently cowering in the bed she was forced to share with Sarya. Isolde had wanted it, even as Sarya took a sexual vengeance upon the prostitute turned slave. Forgiveness had come, for Isolde had served Morkate well and in a way Sarya as well. But her plots and schemes still tasted of betrayal. And for it, the woman who wanted to be a slave had to be punished.

It was the old Goldulin way. The ways that had lifted the island people who worshipped Morkate into an empire that held sway over the world. Sarya had studied well as she rose to Centurion. And had seen how the worship of Oan had dimmed the ruthlessness that kept Goldulin in power. It was good to worship Morkate openly once again, out from the shadows of cult safe houses.

Opening her eyes, Sarya lowered her gaze and began to walk into the town built around the base of the castle. She had wanted to speak to Lillium to find their plans for the coming days, but the succubus was no where to be found. All she had was the concubine Rania telling her from the naked and tangled limbs of her sisters that their mistress had gone out in the morning. To where the vampiric concubine would not say.

So Sarya came to walk and explore the town. To see the helots drilling in the square under newly promoted commanders. Centurions Sarya had been told, to emulate the old empire. Their discipline was impressive for beasts that were meant to be nothing but pillagers, rapists, and cannon fodder for the Kazdruk war machine. Their movements crisp as shields snapped into positions and wicked blades readied. Sarya couldn’t wait to get back into drilling. There was much she could teach them.

There were humans around as well. Some slaves, shuffling with only loincloths, leather collars, and shackles around their wrists and ankles. Many tattooed on the back of their shoulder as well. But it seemed there were free folk as well. Morkate worshippers that had come to settle here believing the harbinger would take them from under the oncoming tyranny of the Kazdruk and save them from the scheming elves. Each of them wore cloth and leather garments that revealed plenty of skin. The place was actually looking like a proper town with the buzz of merchants, the ringing of forges, and the chatter of people moving about. The slaves shuffling with heads down and the citizens ignoring the soldiers as a part of life.

It reminded Sarya of home. Of the way it had been in the old days. She smiled, walking along the main street. She glanced into an alley to see a man thrusting into a slave he had pressed against the wall. She moaned in pleasure, but there was a look of fear in her eyes. The man was preventing her from completing her work, and gauging by the whip marks across her back, this was not the first time she had been late due to such circumstances.

The man glanced up, his pants around his thighs, his hips slapping against the woman’s rump. He noted Sarya watching and he offered a friendly smile and waved, as if everything was perfectly normal. The slave didn’t even call to Sarya for help. She knew her place. The centurion waved at the man and continued on her way, taking a winding route through back roads to get to the temple of Morkate.

On the west side she noted the pallisades and gates of a barracks compound. She stepped in through the front gates, the two helot guards saluting her as she walked between them. Within was a tall three story building that housed the garrison not stationed in the castle itself. In the flattened dirt of the courtyard were two dozen helot soldiers sparring with each other, their swords flashing. A few helots wearing crimson sashes walked around the outside, whips coiled in their hands as they watched and barked out corrections. Sarya watched a moment to take notes.

The helots were not using their shields enough. The shield was an extension to a Goldulin legionnaire, as important as the sword. She would have to start instilling that. She was pleased with those that seemed to be taking the role of Centurions though. Lillium and Lorth had done impressive things with the helots they had under their command. Skirting around the edge of the barracks courtyard, Sarya found herself at the forge. A helot stood shirtless over his anvil, pounding away at a rod of metal, slowly shaping it into one of the wicked looking swords of the helots.

He glanced up at Sarya, then turned his head over to a male slave dripping sweat. And cum along his thighs as well, and from the state of his walk Sarya guessed that the helot blacksmith had chosen this slave for more than his usefulness at the forge.

“Keep the fire hot you little shit. Get more wood in the flames, now. Or I’ll use this hammer to fuck your ass tonight instead of my cock,” the blacksmith snarled.

The look of fear in the slave’s eyes suggested the helot wasn’t joking. He ran to gather more wood and toss it into the flames, and began to pump on the bellows. As he worked his loincloth shifted and Sarya noted the small cage his cock was ensnared in. Stopping a few steps away from the forge, Sarya examined the rack of freshly made swords.

“Centurion. Good to see that you’re out of the dungeon,” he said, with a hint of respect. Sarya was still getting used to it from helots.

“Just taking a walk. Wanted to see what my future soldiers are using,” she said, the blacksmith stepped back, his powerful chest glistening with sweat as he indicated the racks of swords.

“Usual fare for our kind. Serrated blades to rip and tear with glee,” he said, almost laughing as he turned back.

“Stop making them serrated. Arrow heads sure, but not blades. Smooth edges, and a better point. It’ll make it easier to pull the blade free, and to kill more from there,” Sarya said, making sure to use the argument of more bloodshed to get her point across. The blacksmith looked at her, frowning. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Make two types of blades for each soldier. One to take pleasure from the kill, and one to simply kill. I need my soldiers efficient. And there will be more glory for it,” Sarya relented, and pursed her lips. It would take some work to get used to working with those that were once enemies. Those she had killed so many of as her nation had crumbled around her. “I’ll come by later. I have some plans that might interest you.”

The blacksmith closed his mouth and nodded, turning back to his work. The ring of the hammer on the red hot steel cutting out any further conversation. So Sarya turned and walked from the compound and started a quick line towards the temple.

She passed what looked like a brothel. The slaves here in better garb but clearly still slaves. They danced outside to entice visitors within, but some sat on the front porch nursing growing bellies, which seemed odd for a brothel. It clicked though when she took note of a helot leaving with a grin as he fixed his belt. It wasn’t a brothel, it was a breeding house.

That was something new to her. She looked ahead, moving through a street filled with merchants hawking their wares as free folk moved and shopped for their needs and wants. Slaves a common sight carrying crates or purchased goods for their masters.

Eventually though Sarya found herself walking through the doors of the Temple of Morkate, still in the process of being refurnished. Passing between a pair of statues of naked men and women entwined in lustful embraces, and past a few acolytes tending to the desires of a few worshippers, Sarya reached the door to Aela’s personal chambers. She knocked, and heard the priestess call for her to enter.

Opening the door and walking in, Sarya spotted the tattooed priestess standing at the foot of her bed holding a whip in one hand and a needle dripping black ink in the other. On the high priestess’s bed was an acolyte. Naked save a blindfold, and kneeling on all fours. She had her head forward, her hip and lower back already covered in the runes of Morkate that would mark her as a servant of the goddess of blood and lust.

“She has been most promising in her learnings thus far. I think she’ll make an excellent priestess. Of course, once we’re firmly established it will take more time to rise in rank, but we have to start somewhere,” Aela told the centurion, turning away from her task and dragging the tip of the whip over the naked woman’s rump. The acolyte moaned softly, but didn’t move even as Aela walked across the room to her desk.


“Yes,” Sarya said, savouring the view of the acolyte before joining Aela at her desk. Taking a goblet she sipped softly, and winced.

“I know. Not very good. I’ll have to get a barrel of something better next time. Still, it is wine, sour it may be. But you’re not here to talk wine,” Aela said, smirking and taking a long gulp. “Or stare at pretty women. You have a whore all to yourself for that I hear.”

“I’ve come to talk about my turning.”

“Of course you have. Tired of hiding and eager to serve your goddess. And without being turned, the Harbinger won’t let you leave the village.”

“No, she won’t. And she’s not here at the moment. So, when is it happening? And what do I have to do to prepare?”

“Tonight, and nothing. I’ll explain everything at the ceremony, but I’m ready finally. You’ll be joining the honoured ranks of Morkate’s chosen. To deliver her swift vengeance upon the world. And of course… I believe the Harbinger has a mission specifically for you,” Aela said, gesturing to a pair of open tomes on the desk. One written in Kazdruk, the other was in Aela’s hand; her own grimoire of stolen knowledge.

“Special mission? I was told I was going to be tr-,” a finger pressed to Sarya’s lips to cut her off. It tasted vaguely of ink and wine, with just a hint of a woman’s cunt.

“You’ll discover when you need to,” Aela said, then leaned in. Her bared breasts crushing against Sarya’s leather clad ones.

Their bodies pressed tightly together, Aela leaned up to whisper in Sarya’s ear. But she nibbled and licked to make it look like teasing to an outsider.

“We may be being watched. Until I find out more about this Niseht, we must be careful,” Aela said so quietly she was scarcely heard.

Sarya nodded though, and the high priestess peeled off her.

“I’ll see you tonight Centurion. You’ll be closer than ever to the Goddess then.”


Three wooden carriages were being pulled down the road by teams of horses. In front and behind of each one a small group of soldiers marched with their spear tips glistening in the sun. Thaden watched them come closer to his position, and that of fifty other insurgents. Many of them holding tight to cross bows of stolen swords. One of two ambushes to happen today. Kira’s little resistance group was still growing as refugees set up tents in the camp deep in the woods. Now there were enough fighters for more than one attack, and while Kira led one further to the north, Thaden was entrusted with this one.

The one coming from Volgras he noted. Kira’s behaviour was growing increasingly odd of late, and he was growing more concerned. Ever since she’d fought her sister, she’d been growing distant.

“Those are humans,” someone whispered, pulling Thaden from his thoughts. He blinked and looked at the enemy soldiers dressed in Kazdruk armour, and was surprised to find the observation correct. The enemy guarding the carriages were indeed human.

“Doesn’t matter. They serve the Kazdruk, so they are the enemy. Remember, those carriages are full of supplies for the Kazdruk raiders in the north. We take them out, we make it easier to root those bastards out,” Thaden said, glancing at those under him. He saw heads nodding, and faces full of grim determination.

Turning back towards the small column he raised his hand. Watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The better the moment, the less people he would lose.

The first carriage rolled past him, the wheels creaking slightly. He did another count of the enemy soldiers. Thirty in total. They looked tired as well. Perfect.

When the second carriage came just before him, Thaden dropped his hand. A flurry of crossbow bolts flew out into the road. Eleven soldiers were immediately killed, the bolts punching through their armour and piercing flesh. As they fell to the ground, the remainder panicked. Some tried to turn and raise their shields to face the attackers while others dropped their weapons and ran.

Insurgents leapt up from their cover on the other side of the road. In silence they charged the soldiers facing away from them and smashed into their lines. With axe, club, and sword they hacked and bashed at the enemy. Screams filled the air as the soldiers panic increased. Those standing to fight turned to try and defend themselves as Thaden led his first half out from the woods. A quiet run, and they entered the melee.

The twangs of crossbows sounded as the runners were shot down as they fled. Their bodies dropping onto the road with bolts sticking from their backs.

Just like that, it was over. The ambush successful. Not a single Kazdruk loyal human left standing, and from a quick count only one of his had fallen. Gutted by a wild swipe of a spear. The man might yet live if he got proper medical attention. Wiping blood from his own sword, Thaden glanced at the carriages.

“Let’s get this done quick. Steal the horses too,” he said, before frowning as he knelt by a body.

He pried a helmet off one corpse and looked down at a face frozen in fear, with a leather collar secured tightly around his neck. His insurgents were already reaching to open the carriages when it dawned on him what had happened. Far too late.

The sides of the carriages opened, and bolts shot out from them. A dozen fell dead, a few more screaming as they grasped at their wounds. Armoured helots burst out from the carriages, swords drawn and already swinging, cleaving into the men and women that had just ambushed them. The trap had been perfectly laid.

Then a scream, and Thaden’s head turned to the front carriage. His eyes widened as a woman’s head was lopped from her shoulders in a spray of blood, and his blood ran cold as he saw the killer.

Lillium was grinning, blood running across her face, dripping down into her cleavage as she moved across the killing ground. Her body twisted, and sword dancing as insurgents tried to get to her. A crossbow bolt punched through a wing, and the succubus groaned before she flicked an axe into her hand with the toe of her boot. With a quick throw, the crossbow man fell back, the axe splitting his skull in two.

The succubus moved toward, ducking beneath a high swing with a sword. Her wings shot out wife, knocking two insurgents to the ground. As she rose, she slashed upwards. Her blade cut the man’s leg off at the thigh. His scream of pain cut short as the return swing came down on his falling form. Biting through his neck and severing another head. A woman rushed Lillium, only to have a set of claws grasp her throat. With a quick pull of her arm, Lillium ripped out the woman’s neck. Blood sprayed across the smiling succubus, who ignored the falling body to thrust her blade into a man’s gut. Thaden watched the tip emerge from the small of his back, blood dripping from the black sword. Before the image even fully sank into his mind, the sword twisted and swung out wide. The man fell, clutching at his entrails as a nearby insurgent’s arm was severed at the elbow. The limb landing in the dirt, and the wounded man stabbed through the chest by a helot.

Thaden couldn’t move. He could only stare. Fear clutching him as his forced was slaughtered all around him. Blood soaking into the road, and those left alive fled into the forest. There was no silence this time, Thaden could hear crashing trees as they ran as fast as they could from the blood thirsty monster that was their leader’s sister.

“Let them run,” Lillium commanded, and the pursuing helots stopped before they even got to the woodline.

Thaden was all alone. He dropped his sword, knowing it was fruitless to try and fight. He turned and stared at Lillium as she approached, trying not to stare at the blood of friends and comrades that ran into her cleavage.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t even pause. Her sword ran through him, snapping his bottom few ribs and opening his lung. Gasping for breath he tasted blood in his mouth. He gasped for breath as Lillium pulled him closer. Dragging him along her sword. Feeling it sink in deeper and cut his lungs open further. Crimson froth bubbled at his lips as she clutched his back and held him against her alluring form. Feeling the hard metal of her corset, and the softness of her cleavage against his chest. Her hand gliding sensually along his back as she leaned in. Her lips at his cheek, his ear. The tongue gliding along the shell of it.

“Should you get to your heaven. Tell Oan I’ll come for him someday,” she said as Thaden bled out in her arms.

Then she bit him. Her fangs sinking into his neck, his blood pumping into her mouth as she groaned against his skin. Her tongue teasing him, and in his shame, Thaden felt his cock stirring in that moment. Hardening in his pants until he felt it touching her thigh, his hips almost involuntarily grinding against her leg. She twisted her sword in his chest and continued to feast until life had fled his body.

Pulling her fangs back, Lillium pushed the man off her sword and watched it hit the ground. She stared at him, slowly licking her lips.

“Almost would have been worth it to fuck him first,” she purred, putting a boot on his chest, letting her heel sink into his sternum.

A nearby helot glanced at her in confusion, but Lillium didn’t bother to explain herself. Instead, standing above her sister’s lover, she swiped her sword in a downwards arc and severed his head. Grasping it by the hair she stood, resting her sword on her shoulder. Glancing both ways down the road, she looked at the piles of bodies. Near sixty dead men and women lay around her. Their blood soaking into the earth beneath her feet. She felt thirsty, and horny, and felt so good to be free of the spire again.

Picking up a spear she jammed Thaden’s head onto its point, and planted her trophy on the side of the road.

“Mutilate the others,” Lillium commanded, and her helots roared out in blood lust, and they fell upon the dead with descending blades.

The baroness of Volgras watched it all, savouring the sight. She knew it would be difficult to find Kira out there in the wilderness. But perhaps, she could make Kira come to her. With a slight smile she took one of the horses, and mounted it, and waited for her soldiers to complete their grisly task.


The elf known as Voryna stretched her arms as she awoke. Though, Aeltha couldn’t quite call her an elf anymore. The former slave rose from her slumber and yawned, showing her new canines. Her fingertips exploring her new horns. The other elf that she had been experimenting upon, Bryla, turned over as she started to awake shortly after. The high sorceress grinned as she watched the beautiful creatures, her own pair of slaves near drooling as the new born succubi stirred and rose.

The first successful Elven succubi, and no vampire blood. Pure Kazdruk corruption flowing through their veins, and willingly accepted. Offers of pleasantries and an escape from the tortures of the slave cells had been enough. They had been willing to give anything to get out from the daily routine of rape and beatings.

Now they were more Kazdruk than Elven, and Aeltha thought she might have finally perfected the succubus formula. Or at least, the succubi that would control her ferals. They started to coo and purr as their senses came to them, their hands starting to explore each other, their lips eagerly looking to taste and tease the other. Small little nibbles drawing increasingly lustful groans. Aeltha watched the pair, who were clearly aware they were being watched. Their red eyes veined with blue darting over to glance at their audience.

“Aren’t they excellent?” Aeltha told the corrupted elvish twins that served as her servants and slaves. She was careful not to use the word perfect again. Not until all the testing was complete.

“Yes mistress,” the twins purred, moving closer together as they watched the succubi, their own hands started to caress each other. Something Aeltha made note of, even as her cock stirred. So she moved forward, resisting the temptation to take all four of them right now.

Instead she snapped her fingers, and gestured with her hand for the two new succubi to rise. Vornya and Bryla both got to their feet, their hands holding each other, breasts crushed together. Their cheeks rubbing against one another as they stared at Aeltha.

“How might we serve Mistress?” they said as one, their words mixing together into a sweet song.

“A final test, of your capabilities. And a theory I have,” Aeltha said, guiding the two to her hidden door, and opening it to the chamber of pillars and clinking chains. At the far end, seen only as a shifting shadow, Neicul awaited. His growls rumbling in his throat. For he stared at two elven slaves, chained to a wall. Gagged so they could not scream, or help throw in a variable to Aeltha’s experiment.

For the one chained upon the left, after some promises, had agreed to undergo the transformation to succubus. To become something better than Elf. The one on the right though had somehow managed to hold onto her defiance. She would even now be pulling against her chains had her wrists not been rubbed raw by metal shackles, and her exhausted flesh failed her. It was very near time to set Neicul free in his prison. To see which of the two he murdered.

“Get my little pet in there to kill the one on the right,” Aeltha told Bryla and Voryna.

“At once mistress,” they purred together, slipping into the chamber without any fear. Both slaves lifted their heads as the succubi entered the chamber. Both recognized them from a previous life. The left one, the one that might well join them, looked on with envy. The other was in shock, and hurt. Of course she did though, Voryna and Bryla had betrayed her, and her kin.

The freshly born succubi though ignored their former kin. Instead moving into the shadows as the doors shut behind them. Pale torchlight flickering into life to illuminate the way as Aeltha watched from her green orb. As the succubi approached, Aeltha firmly guided the face of one of her body slaves down towards her crotch.

Voryna came to Neicul first, purring at him, calming him. Her hand gliding along the cock that had been left exposed since it plunged into Lillium’s cunt. Voryna though gently stroked it, then pressed herself to his chest, whispering into his ear.

All the while Aeltha was able to enjoy soft lips on her own thick cock. Sliding further down along her shaft until the cock greedy whore had much of it down her throat. Her twin sister giggled, sliding to her own knees to aid. Letting Aeltha watch the show. To see every act the two succubi made, and more importantly, the reaction Neicul had to them.

He seemed confused a moment. Head twitching between the two as they sandwiched him. Whispering in his ear. Both stroking his cock and fondling his balls as they ground themselves against him. Their lips spilling the poison honey of their wishes into his ear. The target for him to kill. Precum dribbled over their hands already, and Neicul seemed agitated.

The feral beast that was once Yuldasha’s brother pulled against his chains, but neither succubi relented. It took a moment for Aeltha to realize that Neicul was not trying to get at the temptresses caressing him. He was glaring at the two elves.

It was time. Her fingers traced along her scrying orb, and sparking traces of magic sunk into the glass. Soon coursing along the chains that held her pet. The shackles fell from his limbs, and his neck. The beast glanced down at them for but a second. Long enough for the two succubi to slip away from him.

Then he roared. Furious, full of primal rage. Neicul charged across the chamber, ignoring the dangling chains that struck his shoulders. His feet pounded, and Aeltha felt her heart beating in her chest as she stared. She dared not to let herself hope. No, she just watched as the distance between Feral Kazdruk and bound elves shrunk. Both of them now in a panic as the raging beast closed in upon them. Thrashing in their shackles, blood starting to trickle from wrists and ankles.

Neicul grabbed the resistant elf by the neck. Her eyes wide for a moment before Neicul yanked her from the wall. Through the orb, Aeltha heard the crunch of bones as one shoulder was dislocated, and a thumb pulled off as the hand was forced through the shackle. Neicul stared a moment, confused why his prey did not come to him. So he kept pulling, and screams filled the room.

Screams of agony from the spirited elf being pulled off the wall. And terror from the woman beside her, watching this all take place right beside her, not sure if she was to be next.

Neicul roared and screamed in fury, and gave up trying to free the elf. Instead, turning to smashing her head against the wall while the succubi slowly approached from behind. Letting their pet do his messy work. Again and again the head was smashed against the thick stone, soon leaving smears of crimson every time it was pulled away. Soon enough clumps of once beautiful hair, before the skull broke apart.

Standing there, gripping a naked slave’s corpse in his hands, Neicul finally stopped. He was staring at the mush that was once a head. Now just bits of bone and gore. He let go, the body flopping, hanging by one dislocated arm. A grotesque puddle of blood and bits of brain beneath her.

The succubi moved in then. Their hands pulling him away. Congratulating him on being such a good boy. The still living slave stopped screaming, though she stared at her comrade with wide eyes. Aeltha grinned at the success. So they could be controlled then. She leaned her head back and let out a moan, her cum gushing down the throat of one body slave.

The high sorceress looked down at her body slaves.

“Time to fetch me some more prisoners. We have work to do,” was all she told them.

Within the chamber, the succubi had mounted Neicul, their backs to one another. One riding his cock, the other straddling his face. Moaning up to the ceiling as their hips moved, shoulder blades rubbing together.

Beneath them, Neicul revelled in the delights of the flesh.


One of Velkra’s signallers put a war horn to his lips. Standing stark naked on the piece of wall they had captured, he grasped his hard cock and blew into the horn. The sound carried outwards even as his hips thrust towards the waiting humans. Velkra’s talon all began to stomp their feet or the butts of halberds on the stone they had taken from the humans.

Velkra did not intend to push further inwards, into the woods. She intended to sweep along the wall, taking more and more of it, broadening the breach she had made so that the other talons and their helots could swarm into the forest and slay any who remained.

She grinned, holding her warscythe at her side. Down on the beach more Kazdruk warriors whipped their helots into a frenzy, pushing them forward to take the wall.

“Let’s see who spills more blood today,” Velkra said, and her warriors yelled out as they built themselves into a frenzy. She gestured forwards, and the Kazdruk tore through the barricade they had erected. Corpses, discarded armour, and bits of debris tumbling off the wall as the Kazdruk charged along its length.

It felt good to feel the adrenaline of coming battle again. Her teeth bared in a wild grin as her braids trailed behind her. To feel the grip of a weapon in her hand again, to know that soon she would be spilling blood, and fucking taken slaves. It had been far too long wallowing in the Spire.

Their roars filled the air as they hefted their weapons, running towards the next juncture. Even from here Velkra could see the terror in the human sentries, raising their crossbows to fire into the charging masses. They seemed confused as to where to fire, whether at the talon coming at them from the flank, or the helots rushing up the beach.

Too confused. Velkra frowned, not hearing shouted orders. No human who thought he was in command. Trying to be heard above the fear. It was just the sentries. She slowed, brows furrowing further as she assessed what she saw and heard before her.

The helots were dropping to the few crossbows, but not as many as there should have been. And she had only seen a single of her own warriors fall. They crashed into the second barricade. The one the humans had made from logs, lashings and crude spikes. It did nothing to slow the hulking kazdruk, who tore it down with barely a pause. The Helots even were already scaling the walls. The humans were breaking and running.

It was too easy.

“Halt. Stop!” Velkra screamed.

A few looked back at her. Confused, even with drool running from their lips. Some didn’t hear, but most of her talon managed to stop themselves. Velkra’s eyes darted from the scaling helots to the wood line. The woodline she saw the humans starting to gather in. Collecting themselves.

They hadn’t broken.

“Off the walls. Get off the walls,” Velkra screamed, the first to rush to the edge and leap off towards the last tuft of grass before it all turned to sand.

Her talon glanced amongst each other, but Velkra was their commander until someone challenged her and won. So they followed, jumping off the wall as the helots sneered, and their kazdruk handlers mocked them loudly. A few of Velkra’s warriors either didn’t hear or ignored her, and pushed further along, and started to leap towards the other side.

On the sands again, Velkra’s talon looked amongst each other in confusion, then to Velkra in anger. She led them further downwards. Towards the lapping waters and the old helot barricades they had hid behind for months. Their blood still boiling, eager to see combat. To see violence, and claim spoils.

“Why do we run from the fight? The humans were cowering, fleeing like their little virgin wenches,” one dared to say, and Velkra resisted the temptation to kill him. Instead she crouched, and looked towards the wall.

“Because they did not cower. They lured,” Velkra said. The insubordinate warrior frowned, spat on the ground and took a single step before a deafening explosion shook the ground. The warriors were thrown to the ground in heaps.

Velkra though saw it all. See the ball of fire that rose upwards from beneath the humans’ wall. Saw the mortar and stone break apart into chunks as they were ripped up into the air. Helots and Kazdruk alike did not have a chance to scream as their bodies, or pieces of them, were thrown across the beach. Dirt, rock, blood, bone, and chunks of flesh fell from the sky.

In the aftermath, came the groaning of Kazdruk wounded. Helots and purebloods crawling in the mess of the wall. Velkra looked at her warriors who stared in stunned silence. Further down the beach, they all heard another explosion. Then another. Growing ever more distant.

“Cowards,” one of the warriors said, rising to her feet with halberd in hand.

“Smart. How much of this invasion force will be left now? After months of trying to take it, they have taken it from us,” Velkra said, peering through the smoke and dust. From within she heard groans cut violently short. She looked to the others.

“We go forward quietly. They are killing the wounded. We counter their counter attack,” she said, and placed a finger to her lips.

Her talon nodded, and gripped their weapons again. They started to rush forward again. This time there were no war cries. No threats or beating of weapons. They stayed hunched, avoiding anything on the ground that might cause noise. The sand beneath their sands scarcely a whisper.

The smoke was just starting to settle when they entered. Passing chunks of the dead, and seeing some buried beneath the debris. They began to see shapes ahead though. Dark shadows in the brown of the dust. A line of them starting to become more solid. Soon the glint of armour seen.

“Hey, ther-” Velkra took the first kill, the man ripped open groin to shoulder by her scythe, his leather armour unable to even try to stop it. Now her talon shouted. Now they yelled. Now the panic in the humans was not a ruse. They did not expect many survivors. Did not expect organized resistance. The line was already crumbling as the talon smashed into it.

Steel and fist flared and sliced and smashed. New screams filled the air as the humans desperately tried to peel back to get themselves organized. But now the Kazdruk were angry. Furious. And now they were getting their taste of blood as they ravaged their way into the human line.

One man was standing his ground, blade in hand and smeared in blood. Two kazdruk already lay lifeless at his feet, and Velkra watched him duck beneath an axe swung at his head. His sword slashed upwards taking the warrior at the wrist. She screamed out, and kicked him in the chest sending him flying backwards.

The man hadn’t expected that, and was gasping for breath as the amputated kazdruk warrior rushed towards him. Ripping off her loincloth to show a hardening cock as blood pumped out from the stump at her wrist. The man on his back struggled to get his breath back, fumbling for the sword at his side. But the warrior stomped on his forearm with a cloven hoof.

He screamed now, feeling the bones snapping and grinding together. Drool spattered on his face as the kazdruk gripped him by the back of his open faced helmet and shoved her cock into his mouth. With balls slapping against her chin she thrust hard into him. Fucking his throat as he gagged and sobbed around the thick meat plunging in and out of his mouth.

When she pulled free the man was coughing up cum, spattering it across his chest and face. But she wasn’t done and soon had him flipped over onto his belly, tearing away at his breeches, and pistoning herself into his rear. He screamed in agony as he was ravaged.

Velkra moved past the scene, her war scythe spinning and lopping off a woman’s leg, before crushing her skull underfoot so she could behead one of her comrades. The blood sprayed across her arms, as she lunged to the side. The blade of her scythe opening a man’s guts. He took another few stumbling steps, tangling his entrails around his legs before falling to a dying heap in what was quickly turning into a quagmire of bloody mud.

Now the humans were running, many of them tossing away weapons or bits of armour to try and run faster. Velkra stood over the corpse of a man clutching a crossbow that had already been loosed. Sweat was beaded on her skin, streaked through with blood and gore. Bits of grit and mud stuck to her, and her breasts heaved as she breathed it all in.

“Don’t follow,” she called to her warriors. This time, even smeared in blood, they listened attentively. Not one ran after the fleeing humans. Velkra smirked. The move had been smart for the humans, but they had accidentally solidified her command over the talon.

“Gather any who live, we go back to where we were. Establish camp and prepare for the next attack,” Velkra said.

She listened to her warriors moving amongst the dead and dying. Killing those that could not be saved. Velkra turned back to look at the amputated warrior. She was slumped over her victim, passed out from blood loss. Her cock still buried in his ass. The man cried quietly to himself, cum smeared over his lips, and dribbling over his balls to the ground.

At her feet she heard a groan of pain. She looked down to see a kazdruk pureblood. One of those that had mocked her talon and led his helots into a trap. There was little left of him below the rib cage. She smirked down at him, placing the tip of her spear against his neck. He tilted his head back, and with a quick swipe, Velkra opened his throat and watched him bleed out.

“Get me a runner. We need to see what has happened along the beach,” she called out, already walking back to where her camp would be established once more.


Looking down from the top of the hill, Layli saw just an open field littered with long dead skeletons. She looked over at the scout beside her. There were no carrion birds anymore. The flesh had long been picked clean from the dead. Looters had taken anything of value. All that was left was bleached bones covered in some tattered and rotted strips of cloth. The eternal grins of the abandoned skulls left to stare at sky or dirt.

“The map says this is the Atzgol Plains,” he said, tapping at leather tube at his hip. “According to the reports, this is where the Cozlac clan fell.”

Layli nodded slowly. What might have once been beautiful fields of lush green was now a wasteland of Kazdruk corruption. Their influence seeping into the earth and showing in the skies above. She couldn’t even begin to count the skeletons laying down there below. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the rising dust of the Warhost moving northwards, still a few hours behind. To the east on a hill that overlooked the plains, was a simple looking chapel. To Oan likely. Something worth examining.

When her eyes moved forward again she noted something else in the middle of the field. She frowned, thinking it a skeleton on its knees. But it was hard to tell.

“What is that?” she asked, already urging her horse forward. The scout beside her frowned.

“I don’t know.”

The pair of them rode down to the edge of the battlefield and dismounted. They had no wish to upset the spirits of the dead that may be trapped in this tragic field. Leaving their horses snorting and pawing at the seemingly lifeless earth, scout and shawrapaht moved ahead towards the battlefield’s centre. They picked their way carefully between the scattered dead, feeling wind and dust buffet their forms as they proceeded deeper.

Eventually they came upon what looked to be a shrine. A spear was planted in the ground and surrounded by carefully placed kazdruk and helot skulls. A human skeleton was placed on the spear, the skull covering the bladed tip. Layli stared up at it, frowning.

“This doesn’t seem like a shrine to Oan,” the scout said quietly, and Layli nodded.

“Or Kazdruk. Why would they put their own skulls around the base of it? The human’s almost seems revered here.”

“Something new then?”

“Maybe. But for who?”

“What are we marching into Layli?” the scout had a hint of fear in his voice as he spoke. Staring upwards still at the shrine, his arms wrapped around himself.

“We’ll find out. Come let’s examine that chapel,” Layli said, starting to pick her way across the battlefield again.

The scout stared at the shrine for a few more moments before following. Their horses trailing around the edges. Dust carried in the wind swirled around their boots as they left the battlefield finally and started climbing towards the chapel. Even here there was the occasional bone or arrow shaft stuck into the ground. An old path was mostly obscured by blowing dust and lack of care.

As they approached the chapel, they noted the dirt smeared across the stained glass windows. The dried blood stains on the stones and in the oaken doors. Layli frowned, putting her hand against the door, the other falling to the hilt of her blade. She pushed, hearing the hinges protest as the door swung inwards.

A man in a priest’s robes knelt before the altar, his head bowed. Whispering quietly to himself in the gloom of the chapel. The tall candles around him had long since turned to nothing more than hardened wax caught dribbling down the wrought iron sticks. The pews filling the small structure covered in a layer of dust with cobwebs stretched between them.

Slowly letting her fingers relax, Layli moved forward with the scout staying by the doorway. The priest tilted his head slightly, before finally looking back over his shoulder. He was emaciated, and dark circles sagged under his eyes. With cracked lips he tried to speak.

“Do the demons finally come for my soul, or are you Oan’s angels sent to end my misery?” he said, voice raspy. He coughed hard after speaking, and Layli squatted just beside him. Watching him, seeing the way his robes hung loosely from his form.

“Neither. We are of the Scytar, we’re here to kill Kazdruk,” Layli told him, and he laughed. A dry sound that just left him coughing again, spittle flecking his lips once he recovered.

“To the sea you should go. They all come from there. Raping and enslaving, burning and conquering. But you are fools to go up there… Del Helshan is all but lost. The devil Morkate rises again. Her influence seeps out from the cracks in the world and good people find themselves twisted and perverse. Oan is dying,” he all but screamed the words out before doubling over, coughing again.

When he sat up, looking at Layli with bloodshot eyes, he reached for her. Grasped her hands.

“All will be lost, and the damned will rule whatever rubble is left.”

Layli looked over at the scout as the priest continued to scream. The man standing by the door shook his head and turned to leave. Wind blew dust into the chapel from where he left the doors open, his form quickly vanishing beyond the crest of the hill.

Layli stood. She didn’t think the man would give her much more in way of answers. He had prostrated himself on the floor, drooling now as he screamed onto the tiles his knees had kept clear of dust. The occasional sob breaking through his increasingly incoherent shouts.

She had taken four steps when he lifted himself up again.

“Please,” he muttered, and Layli turned to regard him. A trail of snot running from his left nostril, his eyes bloodshot and downcast. She stood there, looking at the pitiful sight.

“Send me to Oan. I cannot bring myself to face Morkate’s servants again… I pray you are stronger than I,” he said finally looking up at her.

Taking hold of her blade, Layli raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling the sword free. The man’s lips twisted in something like a smile, his head leaning back to expose his neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want? We can take you with us,” Layli said, gesturing with her chin towards the open doorway. In the distance the dust clouds of the approaching warband were steadily encroaching.

The man just shook his head, still staring at the ceiling.

“I am broken in spirit as much as body and mind. I cannot bring myself to fight. I want to see what lies beyond, to know that there is hope for this world. Because I just can’t see it anymore.”

Layli nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. Sword raised she approached the kneeling priest, and brought the blade down.


Standing on the dais beside the altar to Morkate, Lillium looked over the desecrated church of Oan. Now a temple to Morkate. The succubus was clad only in a cloak of black and red lace, hanging open at the front and exposing her pale skin. She stared at the doors as the opened, and the free folk of Volgras began to stream into their place of prayer. All of them, rich and poor alike, clad in simple grey robes that they discarded into a chaotic heap near the entrance.

Naked and smiling they moved forward towards the dais. Each of them prostrating themselves before the harbinger of their newly found Goddess. More and more streaming in as Lillium watched them all. She let her tongue slither along her lips as her claws glided over Viviane’s scalp, feeling her thick locks running between her fingers. Felt the whore’s breasts against her thighs, her tongue teasing at the glistening folks of her cunt while the former knight moaned softly.

As the temple began to fill, the front few rows began to look over each other. Hands started to drift, touching bared skin. Man, woman, it didn’t matter as the collected lust of them began to gather and build. Lillium smiled, before her eyes caught Mia at the other end of the stage. She wore only a skirt on her tattooed form, and held an ornate box with gold hinges in her hands. The acolyte stared straight ahead, but chewed gently on her lower lip. Watching Viviane’s lapping tongue.

Then the back doors opened and the two last figures entered. Aela, wearing only a mask of lace that obscured the upper portion of her face. Her eyes were surrounded with thick kohl, blending with the mask, and her painted lips curled in a sensual smile as she walked to the altar.

“People of Volgras, you are gathered to feel the touch of Morkate. You are gathered to see one of her chosen emerge from the flesh of her long faithful servant,” the priestess said, raising her arms into the air as a naked Sarya stepped around her and lay upon her back atop the altar.

People watched the collection of beautiful women, their curious hands becoming more bold. Grasping and groping one another as their eyes drank in the flesh on display before them. The smell of such closely pack bodies already starting to overpower the incense Aela had her novices and acolytes light earlier. Its smoke rising to the ceiling, trailing the aphrodisiac through the chamber. Making the followers of the Dark Goddess flush as fingers wrapped around cocks. As breasts were firmly grasped and fondled.

“See her display herself, ready to accept the pleasures of Morkate,” Aela purred, gesturing to Lillium, who gently pushed Viviane towards the edge of the dais. The whore looked up at her mistress, who gave her the slightest of smirks. Unwilling to disappoint her mistress, perhaps even afraid to, Viviane smiled and slithered off the dais.

“Join her in her lust, her pleasure,” Aela continued, moving around to Sarya’s head, starting to remind Lillium of her own corruption. Her own rebirth. The succubus smiled, brows furrowed into an expression menacing and sensual. Dark claws ran along Sarya’s thigh, and the soldier let out a soft gasp as her legs parted. Lillium, still in her cloak of lace knelt down between her legs, and pressed her lips to Sarya’s opening. Tasting her as Lillium let her tongue push inside the woman before her.

Now Sarya moaned, feeling the harbinger inside her. And the people of the audience began to grind against one another. Not caring who it was. Feeling bared flesh against their own as Aela moved around to stand above Sarya’s head. The centurion could smell the tartness of the priestess, and soon felt it on her lips.

Before hundreds of people the priestess leaned downwards. Her hair mingling with Lillium’s as the harbinger thrust her tongue deeper and curled in within. The priestess let her lips and tongue tease along Sarya’s stomach, as her hips pressed downwards. Grinding against an increasingly eager mouth. Feeling a skilled tongue gliding along the petals of her entrance. Making her moan against the hard ridged skin of a soldier’s abs.

The audience was starting to plunge fingers inside one another. Their moans starting to raise in volume as their bodies twisted together. Lips finding each other, or finding breasts of flat chests. Mouths wrapping around cocks, and tongues plunging into cunts much like upon the dais. The smell of sex beginning to fully mingle with the incense. The sounds of it all rising higher. Filling Lillium’s ears as she shifted her gaze. Staring upwards along Sarya’s hardened form, and into Aela’s half concealed face.

Slowly Lillium rose upwards as she noted Mia moving. The High Priestess of Morkate sat upwards as well. Her hips grinding downwards, juices flowing over Sarya’s lips. Dribbling along her cheeks and down her tongue. The centurion moaned in pleasure, and whined as Lillium’s tongue pulled away though the sound was muffled by the priestess.

Mia walked forward, slow and sensual, feeling many eyes upon her. Though many were now closed or turning to look to whatever lover they’d found. The acolyte opened the box, revealing a leather harness and a dildo fashioned from the severed cock of the executed Kazdruk warrior. Lillium stared at the toy, even as Mia began to fasten the straps of the harness around her mistresss’s thighs and hips.

Pressing a firm kiss to Lillium’s navel, letting her tongue glide over it, Mia slid the dildo through a thick metal ring, small little spikes clamping into it, holding it tight. The succubus rose, feeling te attention bathed upon her. She glanced, seeing Viviane staring with awe at her mistress, while a woman kissed her neck and stroked her clit. The lust in the room was palpable, and the centurion upon the altar squirmed with her need.

The Baroness of Volgras stepped forward, her hips gliding along the insides of Sarya’s thighs. The bottom tips of her wings dragging along Sarya’s sides. Feeling the hardness of her abs, her ribs. The succubus grinned, watching the centurion. Watching her body writhe upon now warm stone, her hands gripping the curves of Aela’s ass. Fingers squeezing in tight as she let her tongue delve deep into the priestess, the priestess who let her moans carry through the temple.

Teasing the woman beneath her with the tip of her strap on, Lillium watched her continuing the squirm.

“Take her harbinger. You have showed us of Morkate’s sensuality. Show us her power,” the priestess said, the words nearly a moan.

Thrusting forward, Lillium filled Sarya’s cunt with the Kazdruk formed dildo. Sarya’s back arched, her muffled moan pouring into Aela’s pussy. Claws clutching at Sarya’s hips, thin trails of crimson starting to seep down, Lillium built up a hard fast pace. She couldn’t hear the sounds of it though. Not above the rising moans as the followers who watched began to fuck each other in time with Lilium’s hard thrusts. Viviane herself feeling a cock pushing itself into her ass. Her mouth opening in a long moan as she watched her mistress ravage the woman who had sent her here in another life.

The smell of sex flooded the room. The moans of hundreds forming a choir of lust. Hands smacked against flesh, as other felt themselves penetrated. So many twisted with each other. Contorting in lust and whatever positions they could manage. A sea of bared flesh glistening with sweat. Through it all, knowing only half the eyes were upon her now, Lillium ravaged her former enemy. Watched her breasts bounce from each hard thrust. Watched her fingers curling in an almost desperate clutch of Aela’s ass.

Long lines of blood ran along Sarya’s hips to her thighs as the baroness continued to fuck her, savouring the feel of her dildo crushing against her clit. Enjoying the delicious view before her as she listened to hundreds of moans filling her ear. Neighbours fucked each other, emptying their seed over their skin and inside one another. Cum began to smear across breasts and faces. Men and women tasting the release of lovers, feeling the sticky heat on their skin as the harbinger continued to ravage the new chosen of Morkate.

Climbing off of Sarya’s face, Aela moaned softly, licking her lips, her thighs glistening from her arousal, and at least one orgasm. She moved to stand at the head of the altar, letting Sarya’s moans pour upwards towards the ceiling. Her eyes were closed, even as she tried to lean back to get the taste of the priestess again. Lillium grinned at the slight, thrusting hard into her.

“Morkate gives us pleasure, and we must give her blood in turn,” Aela called out, picking up a knife from Mia’s box as a naked helot walked onto the stage. His hard cock swaying with each step, body covered in tattoos to Morkate.

He positioned himself near Mia’s head, pressing the tip of his cock to Sarya’s lips, and began to push himself inwards. The centurion eagerly opened her mouth, letting the cock push deep. Lillium’s hard thrusts forcing her to take more. Her throat starting to bulge as it entered her throat, that invading cock quickly getting slathered in thick saliva.

Grasping Sarya’s hand, Aela pulled in away from the helot’s body. The centurion did not resist, screaming around the cock in her throat as Lillium continued to fuck her. Bubbles of spit forming around the base of the cock shoved between her clamped lips.

Fingers gliding along Sarya’s forearm, Aela brought the knife downwards, pressing gently to the skin.

“Take this offering of the blood of your warrior lustful Morkate. Take her life, and fill her with your power. Your desire, and your rage,” she said, slipping the knife into the skin. There was a slight garbled groan of pain that was drowned out by the chorus of moans and grunts that filled the temple. The orgy in full swing. Lillium let herself glance downwards to find Viviane on her knees, riding a man’s cock as another fucked her mouth and throat, a woman licking at her breasts.

The succubus smirked, turning back to Sarya. Seeing her pale now as Aela dragged the knife downwards. Blood spilled outwards from the cut, dripping off her fingertips. People in the orgy began to bite and scratch. More grunts and squeals of pain mixed with the sounds of pleasure. But no one wanted out. Lost to their own needs, and the needs of whoever was next to them. Uncaring who they took to themselves.

Lillium leaned downwards. Felt her breasts pressing to Sarya’s own. The succubus let her tongue glide along Sarya’s lips, feeling her body weakening beneath her. She licked the cock plunging into the centurion’s throat. Tasting the thick spit that washed it.

Then she worked downwards, kissing and letting her fangs drag across the skin.

Then the succubus bit downwards. Felt her fangs pierce skin, and Sarya moaned, feeling more of her essence fading from her veins. Lillium feasted, feeling the blood sliding over her lips, along her tongue, and down her throat. All the while still fucking. Ravaging the dying woman beneath her.

Rising again, Lillium starred down at the woman beneath her. Her skin near white as she struggled to breath, struggled to remain awake.

“Taste the blood of our Harbinger. The flesh of Morkate to walk this world,” Aela called out, likely unheard by the mass of flesh grinding and fucking throughout the temple.

The priestess though took her knife and slid it across the bottom of Lillium’s right breast. Blood welled at the lips of the wound, and began to dribble over Sarya’s own. Life faded, her eyes fluttered, but Lillium presented her breast.

The weakened soldier suckled at the wound, tasting the blood that would flow through her veins as well. But strength soon faded from her, and she lost consciousness upon the altar.

The helot began to pull himself free, shooting cum down her throat. Smearing it across her tongue and blood smeared lips as he pulled free of her relaxing throat. Aela grinned at the sight beneath her as Mia came forth. One final object coming out from the box.

A vial. A potion she’d concocted from Aeltha’s notes. She did not have Nera’s blood, but she’d made due with Lillium’s, and the executed Kazdruk. Among many other ingredients. She tilted Sarya’s head back and poured it down her throat.

“She will rise when Morkate deems it,” she said, though inwardly guessed it to be close to twelve hours, perhaps a full day.

Only then did Lillium pull out, and turned her eyes towards the orgy. Knowing Aela had the continuation of Sarya’s care well in hand, the harbinger slipped free of her cloak, and stepped out into the mass of flesh to find her whore, with full intentions to savour the pleasures of the orgy. Hands immediately reached out to caress her. To touch her. To smear cum across her skin.

Lillium spread her wings, to let them caress her people. Her barony. The first castle of an empire of blood and pleasure.

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