This is my first erotic story and my hope with it is to create a plot at least as engaging as the sex scenes. This first chapter is light on the hanky panky but it’ll pick up as the story progresses. Hope you enjoy reading!
——
Vinitus was a fiefdom unlike any other in Izar. It was private, even hermetic. In the bloodied history of Izar, Vinitus stood out like a sapphire in the mud. Vinits did not make alliances, nor did they make enemies. They did not recruit soldiers, nor send them on campaigns. Protected from the outside world by an arcane order of magi, they had no need to partake in the tradition—or in their words, plague—of conquest that their neighbours considered a way of life. Another difference was the population. Both The Rekeap—Vinitus’ capital city—and its surrounding farms and villages were populated entirely by women.
It was rare for a Vinit to leave their fiefdom, though it did happen on occasion. Every few years a woman would leave the capital and attempt to travel between territories, spouting nonsense about peace and love. They were something of a novelty entertainment to many an army. A child that entertained them with adorable, impossible ideas. They’d usually last at least a day or two before amusement waned and baser desires waxed.
If a Vinit leaving their home was rare, then an outsider entering the fiefdom was an event for the history books. There was no immigration to Vinitus, not even for women. Yet, once or twice a century, cloaked and hooded magi ride forth from The Rekeap to claim an individual—usually a woman—and take them back to the city. Nobody knows why. Some say to join their order, others say to use for sadistic experiments.
***
The journey to Vinitus was a long one. Two weeks on horseback had left Cale’s balls feeling like they’d been stomped on by a boulderhoof. He wanted to pull his pants down to check on them but these witches hadn’t let him out of their sight for even a moment. *Chosen for greatness.* That’s what they kept saying. Somehow Cale couldn’t help but feel their definition of greatness wasn’t quite the same as his.
He’d been so close to winning his father’s confidence. One, maybe two more battlefield victories would’ve done it. This time next year he would’ve been the youngest ruling lord, in charge of the most powerful state in recorded history. Arnax was his. Everyone had said it would be. That was a dream now. Something that could’ve, but wouldn’t be. His life was coming to an end a mere twenty-seven years after it began. The witches had come for him and nobody, not even Arnax, dared defy Vinitus.
Three escorted him, one on either side and another a short distance ahead, leading the way. The two beside him hadn’t spoken a word, and the other only barked orders. He didn’t even know their names.
They passed into the outer edges of Vinitus just before midday and Cale was intrigued by the strange vineyards that were present on every farmstead. Rows and rows of foreign, identical plants. These plants weren’t similar, they really were identical. Each purple vine was twisted in the same way, red and blue leaves jutted from branches at exactly the same angles. Cale stopped his horse and eyed the plants. The witch leading them didn’t seem to notice but the other two stopped as well. They eyed each other as Cale dismounted but didn’t say anything as he walked toward the field. He knelt and took a leaf in his hand. A soft gasp sounded from behind him as he pulled a blue leaf from one vine, then its twin off the vine beside it, and studied the identical vein patterns. There were no fruits growing in them. Cale uprooted a vine and glanced at the roots. No vegetables either.
“Back on your horse.” A familiar, hard voice said from behind him.
He turned to find the head witch looking down at him, impatience more than obvious on her face. “What are these?” He held up the plant.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She said. The edge of her lip curled upward slightly then flattened again. “Back on your horse, now.”
They came to a small village about an hour before sunset. The sky was a delicate sapphire with wispy clouds cracking its surface. The sun was slowly descending, preparing to melt away behind the horizon. Their leader raised her open palm and slowed her horse. “We’ll rest here tonight, then ride hard for the next three days, exchanging our horses at each village.”
After reigning in behind her, Cale dismounted and waddled along the road beside his horse. He didn’t care that they were watching anymore, he had to take a look. He unbuckled his belt and with one hand held the waist of my pants at a distance to see inside while the other carefully lifted his balls. Amazingly, they were intact with only light bruising.
Giggling broke out from both his left and right. He let go of his pants and looked from side to side. The witches beside him were holding their reigns with one hand while the other struggled to stifle their laughter. They weren’t the only ones. Everybody in sight was staring. Not at their group, at him. A blacksmith stood with her hammer raised and mouth agape. A sheep shearer sat on a stool with a half-naked sheep, her eyes wide. A group of small girls whispered and giggled.
“Why are they looking at me like that?” Cale asked the head witch. “Did I offend them?”
“We’re in Vinitus now, Cale.” She said without looking back.
*Okay…*
“Do you remember the last time we claimed a man?” The witch on his left asked.
He shook his head.
“He shouldn’t. It was over a hundred years ago.” The one on the right said. “Most people outside The Rekeap haven’t seen one in decades, some never have.”
“And what did…” now seemed as good a time as any. “What did you do with him?”
“Oh, many things.” The head witch said, again without turning around. “Here,” she pointed to a large building beside the stables that could only be the inn.. “Wait outside while I get us rooms. I don’t want everybody inside gawking.”
*Strange thing to care about.*
The light was fading when Cale got to his room upstairs. Candles were lit in each corner of the low roof, yet no wax dropped down their sides. The witches had rented him his own room while they shared one across the hall. Apparently they weren’t concerned about him running off. *Idiots.*
Cale had always made sure his soldiers knew to finish off a defeated enemy. Cowards were known to play up wounds, pretend to die and flee once the real men were either celebrating victory or feeding the scavengers. These witches had never fought a battle. What did they know? What right did they have to uproot his life, to snatch his dream away from him? Cale’s mouth felt dry and his thoughts sped up. *Not yet. Sunset. In the dark. Get away. Might find me. Could kill them. Could kill them? Nope. Run then. Might find me. Take hostage? Won’t work. Too slow. Fuck this. Fuck them. I should be a king! Shouldn’t I? Eye itches. Wet. Bleeding? Oh.*
Cale picked up a chair and threw it against the wall. It went through the window and glass crashed down onto the roof of the inn’s first-floor tavern, followed by a thud. A warm breeze washed over his face. The night air called to him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and grabbed a candelabra from the wall then smashed the remaining bits of jagged glass. He threw the blanket from his bed over the frame and climbed out backwards onto the first floor roof.
“Are you a coward?” A soft, almost ghostly voice said from behind him.
Cale span around, prepared to run. On the roof before him was a young woman in a white nightgown that matched her almost waist-length hair. Cale had never seen hair that like that before. It caught the light of the moon in a way that seemed… intentional. “What did you call me?”
The woman cocked her head to the side. “Earlier, you were thinking about how cowards run away.”
*How did she…* “Witch.” He hissed.
The witch giggled. “I like that better than ‘mage’”. She was staring up at his chin and her hair seemed to dim a shade.
*The beard. She’s probably never seen one.* Suddenly it felt strangely itchy, so Cale scratched it.
The witch’s eyes widened and she pressed down with her index and middle fingers onto her teeth. “Are you afraid?”
Cale snorted. “In the other fiefdoms we exchange hostages before doing business. I’ve been held captive in enemy cities dozens of times.”
“You don’t know what they’re going to do.” She reached for Cale’s hand but he stepped backward. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
Cale balled his hands to a fist. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“My name is Ellie,” the witch bit her bottom lip and her hair seemed to dim once more, “and I want to be first.”
Ellie took another step toward Cale and reached again for his hand. This time he gave it to her. He still didn’t know what she wanted, but something made him want to give her. He watched as she ran her fingers over his palm; amazed at the rough, calloused skin. She lifted his hand to her face and pressed her cheek against it.
“So… craggly.” She whispered.
*So what?* “Are you okay?” he said, pointing to his head. “Up here.”
“I’m not sure.” Ellie lifted her nightgown over her head and dropped it off the side of the roof. Standing in nothing but her undergarments, she took Cale’s hand once more and moved it to her bare chest, gasping as his hand landed on her small breast. Her nipples were stiff.
This was not good. Cale had heard stories of this from the men he’d once commanded. Some witches liked to trick men in such a way. Get them all hot and bothered, then, when their cock is full of blood, they’d cut it off and drink the blood like wine from a Stalkat’s horn. This must be his punishment for trying to escape.
Ellie pressed her body in close to Cale’s and he could feel his trousers growing dreadfully tight. She noticed. His cock pressed against her crotch and she gasped as it grew.
“I want to touch it.” Ellie whispered. Her hair dimmed again. It wasn’t white anymore but light grey.
Once again Cale felt his unease vanish. This was just an naïve young woman before him. There was no harm in helping her. He fumbled with his buckle until he got it undone and moved to reach inside his pants.
“I’ll do that.” Ellie said, shooing his hands away. She pulled at the waist of his pants and peered inside. There it was, straining against the confines of Cale’s breeches… his cock.
Cale smiled as she reached for it, and winced as she freed it from his trousers. He still hurt from riding that stupid horse.
Ellie noticed his discomfort. “Is something wrong?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.
Cale stood with his hands by his sides. “Bit sore is all. I’m fine.”
“I can fix that.” Ellie grinned and her hair became positively musty. The hand that still held his cock glowed with concentrated moonlight.
His pain receded and was replaced by the soothing warmth of Ellie’s hand.
“Better?” She smiled in a way that said she already knew the answer, and started to slowly move her hand up and down his shaft.
Cale closed his eyes. It felt so good it didn’t make sense. Cale had been inside his fair share of women, yet nothing he’d ever experienced compared to this… and it was just her hand! What might her mouth feel like… or her… Cale grunted and the storm erupted. Rope after rope of his seed fired out of cock and hit Ellie in the stomach, chest and face.
Ellie giggled and wiped a glob of semen from her face with her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth then scrunched her nose.
“No good?” Cale asked with a smirk.
“It’s okay.” Ellie shrugged. “The way people around here talk about it, like it’s some kind of gift from above, you’d think it’d taste more… divine? Like cocoa-bricks.”
“Like what?”
This time is was Ellie that smirked. “Off to bed young man. Oh, and don’t tell Harriet or those other two bitches about this, okay?”
Cale raised an eyebrow. *Young man?* “You mean,” he pointed to his softening cock. “about this?”
Ellie giggled and held her hand out to her side. “That, and about me being a witch. They’d take me off with them if they knew, make me join their creepy ‘order’.” Something whizzed through the air and Ellie caught it as it passed her. It was her nightgown. “Remember who it was that had you first.” With that the young witch winked, slipped her nightgown over her head, and flew away.
Cale stood alone on the rooftop, his flaccid cock still out.
“What in damnation do you think you’re doing?” That harsh voice, Harriet, called from behind him.
***
Cale had seen The Rekeap in paintings, but like anybody else that didn’t want to be struck by lightning, he’d never been close enough to see it in person. Situated on a cliff that overlooked the sea, it was naturally fortified from the north and east by thousand foot drops. A low stone wall ran around the city’s perimeter, but its purpose seemed more to distinguish the capital from the surrounding farmland than than for any form of protection. In the centre of the city stood The Helix—a massive stone spiral that housed the witches. The structure must’ve been five hundred feet tall, and wide enough—Cale knew—for dozens of witches to live comfortably at various sections along its hollowed out interior. There were dormitories and class rooms, offices and workshops, kitchens, even a pair of grand halls inside that spiral building.
Surrounding The Helix was a ring of twelve noble keeps. The tallest of these couldn’t be more than half as tall as the building they surrounded, but most were far wider, and far more ostentatiously decorated. Each garden they rode past was a manicured mini-forest, each window a piece of art in an etched and stained glass gallery.
Surrounding the noble keeps were smaller manors, markets, taverns, and workshops. When Cale and his escorts had ridden down those busy streets they’d drawn the overt attention of everyone person—woman—in sight. Not so for the noble keeps. These streets were quiet. The occasional carriage rolled by however, and a few curtains were peeled back to show a forehead and pair of eyes watching him.
Finally, they reached the base of The Helix. There was no scaffolding or support beams holding it upright. Nothing but the building’s entrance was even touching the ground. Ellie was right. These people were creepy.
In the centre of The Helix—on the ground—was a stable. Three days hard riding had sounded horrible enough; three days hard riding bound in manacles had been damnation. The chains attached to his arms and legs had been looped through a ring attached to the underside of his saddle. These kept him on the horse, but prevented him from gripping the saddle’s horn. With the horse galloping as fast as it had been, well, whoever had said ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ had never tried to dismount a horse after three days of testicular torment. Harriet waved her hand and the chains fell from his limbs. For a moment he didn’t move, but eventually he pressed a foot into the stirrup and lifted a leg over the horse. He didn’t climb, but fell to the ground. A sharp rock pressed into his back and compared to his balls, it felt wonderful.
“On your feet.” Harriet said.
Cale groaned as he got to his feet.
“When we go inside, he’ll want to talk to you alone. He’ll make you swear not to tell anybody what he tells you, especially not me.” Harriet wasn’t looking at him, instead meeting each of the horse’s eyes in turn, she then pointed to the stable gates. The horses went as directed.
“He?” Cale frowned. “Who are you talking about?”
“You’re going to tell me anyway, got it?” Harriet grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him toward the large, wooden double-doors, followed by the other two whose names Cale still didn’t know.
“No.” Cale dug his heels into the dirt, but Harriet with her unnatural strength simply shoved him forward. “What are you talking about?”
Two women—presumably witches—stood on either side of the doors in red silk vestments with embroidered gold spirals running down the sleeves. They held staves that were nothing more than smooth, rounded lengths of wood with cloth wrapped around the shaft where they gripped. They made his escorts in their brown roughspun robes seem like little more than servants.
Nobody knew how Vinitus’ government operated, but Cale knew a hierarchy when he smelled one. However high this totem pole went, Harriet and her assistants were nowhere near the top of it. That meant there would be something they needed—if Cale could figure out what that something was, well, perhaps he could turn it into leverage.
“Why don’t you have those?” Cale nodded towards the staves as they reached the doors.
“Quiet.” Harriet whispered.
The witches guarding the doors frowned at Cale, then nodded at Harriet and rapped on the doors. They opened inwards onto a foyer as large as any grand hall he’d seen. He felt the urge to run around the side of the building and check its width again but Harriet shoved him inside. The enormous room had a gradual curve that went up and to the right. Lining either side of the room were rustic benches and long tables—seated at which, watching him, was the enemy. At least a hundred witches in vestments of all colours, as fine or finer than those worn by the guards outside. Most eyed him with indifference; a few regarded him curiously; several, he noticed, were blushing a bright red.
Another table sat on a dais that ran along the far end of the room, behind which sat three witches wearing silver circlets—each studded with a different ring of precious stones. There were enough sapphires, emeralds and rubies at that table to feed a lesser fiefdom for several years. Beside the far table was a single, empty wooden chair, padded with animal furs.
Cale and his escorts walked the length of the hall and stopped before the high table. The three crowned witches looked down their long noses at him. They were ancient. Cale studied them as they studied him. Hard, yellow eyes; sharp, grey teeth; blackened veins running up their necks. These creatures were every bit the monster that the legends of his homeland warned of. If he’d had a weapon, Cale would’ve rushed them. He’d die, but maybe the sheer stupidity of the action would’ve shocked them enough to let him take one of them out.
“Bring him in.” The witch sitting in the centre called out to another seated at the end of the left lower bench. The woman stood and hurried off through a passageway at the far end of the room. She returned a moment later but paused in the entryway, seemingly waiting for somebody. She stepped backward and a man followed, holding onto her arm for support.
Cale frowned. *A man? In Vinitus?*
*You’re there.* A voice spoke in his mind, but it wasn’t his. It sounded like…
*Ellie?*
*Did you miss me?*
Cale’s eyes widened. He almost yelled out, but thankfully restrained himself. The room seemed to demand silence as the old man was lead to the padded chair. He was taking his sweet time. *Where are you?*
*Far away. Outside Vinitus.*
*What are you doing in my head?*
Cale could hear her giggling. *I’m waiting to meet somebody. Thought I’d kill time by poking around. You’ve got some really weird stuff in here.*
Perhaps he should feel violated knowing that somebody else had access to his thoughts and memories, but with everything that happened the past few days, it felt nice to have somebody to talk to. To think to? Whatever.
“Let me have a look at him.” The man—now seated—said, quietly enough that Cane almost hadn’t heard him.
Harriet shoved him forward. “Every single thing he says.” She whispered as they drew close to the old man.
Old was an understatement, even ancient would be putting it mildly. His arms withered to the point that his skin hung as loose as his wooden robes. His head was mostly bald, but a few patches of long, white, wispy hair remained.
His cloudy eyes looked to Cale’s right. “Ah, yes, there you are, lad.”
“Umm,” Cale scratched his side. “Hello.”
“Come, sit.” He said, patting the air beside him.
Cale frowned, then turned to Harriet who snapped her fingers. An identical padded chair appeared in the spot he’d patted. Cale sat down beside him.
“My name is Piadrian. It’s nice to meet you at last.” He seemed to be looking up Cale’s nostrils.
“Cale.”
“Cale, you didn’t choose to come to Vinitus, and you probably aren’t thrilled to be here.”
Cale said nothing.
“But you’ve a solemn task ahead of you. A duty to the entire world.”
Murmuring broke out amongst the tables.
“Silence!” The witch on the left of the high table—the one with rubies in her circlet—shouted. Her voice was unnaturally loud.
Piadrian turned to her. “Thank you, Prue.” He turned back to Cale “You will have noticed that other than myself, you are the only man in this entire fiefdom.”
“I…” Cale both saw and felt every eye in the room on him. “I have.”
“I like where this is going.* Ellie’s voice said in his head.
“The magi have many powers. Indeed, even the non-magical women of this fiefdom have skills that outsiders do not.”
Prue sighed. “Get on with it, old man.”
Harriet was staring at Prue, her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed.
“Though they are many,” Piadrian continued, apparently unaware of the interruption, “the abilities of the women of Vinitus do not include self-reproduction.”
“What are you talking about?” Cale asked.
*Oh my god.* Ellie’s voice was positively giddy. *He means you’re here to fuck the entire city.*
——
Advice on tagging would be appreciated. Is there a master list to select from or do we just add what we think is appropriate?
**(Spoilers!)**
In the next chapter…
Piadrian speaks privately with Cale about his duties and learns a shocking secret pertaining to why he was chosen. Cale’s ‘services’ are procured by a noblewoman and a certain mind-invading witch gets jealous.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jqtfxo/vinitus_chapter_one