Author: trixieadara

Embrace of the Goddess [Part 2 of 3] [FF] [Fantasy] [BDSM] [Mind Control] [Corruption] [Twins]

Embrace of the Goddess: Epilogue

Part 2: The Princesses

Tiriniel’s Temple of Dawn’s First light was the chief gem in the crown of Azora’s temples. It was dome shaped with spires shooting out of every radial point like the sun rising above the horizon. Acolyte’s from all over creation made pilgrimages to this holy sight. It is said that Azora first touched down here when she came to dwell with mortals, though Maloth knew that to be a convenient lie. They both fell, kicking and pulling on each other’s hair, as they crashed to this stinking realm of decay and frailty. They landed in a swamp now called Acheron’s Gap. It’s mostly inhabited by gator farmers. No. That didn’t fit the grand narrative of Azora, the grand lie. That would be Maloth’s first order of business. She would set the record straight, including how she was consumed by her sister, slumbering in the consciousness of the goddess these people worshipped. For the whole time, some part of them worshipped Maloth, and that secret would make the transition of power easy. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Epilogue [Part 1 of 3] [FF] [BDSM] [Fantasy] [Corruption] [Monsters] [Dark]

Embrace of the Goddess: Epilogue (Part 1 of 3)

By Trixie Adara

Maloth

The city had fallen when the goddess arrived. Hours ago, Iriel had summoned her to Tiriniel, the last bastion of the elves. Tiriniel, the shining white city that watched over the Falls of Shadrath. Tiriniel, home of the largest temple of Azora. The last temple of Azora.

This was it, the beginning of the end.

Maloth was in her chambers, devouring the soul of a sweet mother of four. The poor woman was trapped in a lifeless marriage, and worshipping Azora was the only speck of ecstasy she could find in her life. It was the new shred of humanity in Maloth that made her think of it as “saving” the middle-aged woman. Her soul was rich and luscious, like a dark chocolate truffle, and Maloth was enjoying the flip as her prey — now soulless — was wearing Iriel’s strap-on, pinning her oldest daughter — twenty with thick and wavy red hair — to the chamber floor and plowing her. The mother was getting a lot off her chest as she listed all the things her daughter never appreciated about her. She spanked her daughter hard as she fucked her, but it wasn’t playful. It wasn’t the teasing spank of lovers. Her daughter cried out in agony as her mother struck the same spot again and again. The skin grew pink to red, but the mother kept striking. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Part 12.5 [FF] [BDSM] [Fantasy] [Corruption] [Demon] [Futa]

Chapter 12.5: The New Goddess

When Iriel woke, the table was shattered and replaced by shards of onyx. There were voices filling the chamber, and Iriel slowly got to her feet to take in her surroundings.

The Pools of Maloth were once more green and beautiful. Even the fetid pools themselves were no longer bubbling and tar-like. They were clear and steaming. Iriel spun around and saw three people standing by Maloth’s throne, and one stranger sitting on the throne itself.

“There you are,” Orilana’s voice said from across the table. “I knew you’d wake up soon.”

Iriel held her head. She pulled it away and didn’t see blood, just her beautiful and blackened claws. She looked around for her lover but didn’t find her among the four strangers gathered ahead.

“Come,” Orilana said. She spoke softly and casually, but Iriel’s body moved as though the command were barked at her. She rushed towards the throne. Three of the bodies became apparent quickly. Melior had one knee bent in genuflection before the throne. Zelum was on both knees with her head down while holding the chains of a strong and bruised half-orc. Iriel recognized her as Orilana’s former lieutenant, Harza. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Part 12 [FF] [BDSM] [Fantasy] [Corruption] [Monster] [Dark]

**Chapter 12: The Ritual**

**Iriel**

Maloth was ready.

The paladins have all been subdued. Rella was assigned to deal with them as she pleased. The Abbey rang with moans of pleasure and shrieks of pain. Or was it shrieks of pleasure and moans of pain? It didn’t matter. The Abbey was theirs. They’d won.

Maloth had won.

A dark cloud hung over the Abbey and the mountain it was nestled into. No one had been able to visit in months, but now nearby villagers began to talk. One low and thick cloud, purple and filled with black lightning, hung over the Abbey. Just the Abbey. It didn’t move. It didn’t burst. It hovered and waited.

Maloth was ready.

The Staff of the Eclipse went with Iriel everywhere. Her goddess wouldn’t let her put it down. She wouldn’t let her sleep for fear that her eyes would fall away from it. She wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Not Prim or Rella or Melior. No one. They needed it for the ritual.

Maloth was ready. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Part 11 [FF] [Fantasy] [Mind Control] [Corruption] [BDSM]

Chapter 11: All’s Fair

Iriel

Iriel closed her eyes and sank back into her chair as the two corrupted oreads slithered out of the room, leaving a trail of smoke and drying lava behind them. Prim had escaped from her prison. She should be on her way here shortly, though Iriel wasn’t so sure. Prim could run out into the world and go hunting again for all she knew. She was a wild card, skipping the High Priestess and only bending to Maloth’s will directly.

Honestly? Iriel didn’t care. Closing her eyes felt so good. There was a stinging relief, not unlike stretching a sore muscle. Maloth had forbidden her to sleep. Against Iriel’s will, her body fucked women late into the night. She was manipulated like Maloth’s puppet, forced to corrupt captured paladins, forced to reward obedient sluts or demons. They all wanted to be close to Maloth and that meant fucking the High Priestess.

But Maloth wasn’t enslaved to ritual. That was the goddess’s convenient excuse. The real reason was that Iriel’s resolve was weaker this way. Any member of her church could walk in the door, and Iriel would fuck them with the slightest nudge from Maloth. Two weeks ago, she’d buck and flail, bite, and snarl. The first time she failed to win was with Rella’s corruption. Now, each fight was harder, and Maloth’s victory came quicker each time. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Part 10 [FF] [Fantasy] [Mind Control] [Corruption] [Demon] [Vampire]

Chapter 10: Conversations with Monsters
Orilana
You gasp as your lover’s lips pull apart from yours like a dancer. She brings them to your chin, tasting the salt of your flesh. The lips trail their way down your neck, and she hesitates. You have seen how her minions devour there, how they take the life from the thick and pulsing vein. You have long wondered if she would do the same. Half of you resents her for not doing it, but that part is insane with lust. The other part, still cold and pious, fears death at the hand of a monster.
But your lover does not make your perverted musings a reality. She trails her kisses down your chest. With her lips between your breasts, you whimper. She has to stop. She has to give them her attention. Once more the wild part demands that she pierce them. Something calls out in your blood. It screams behind the flesh to be free through any means necessary. Losing a little blood is nothing to have it out out out. The neck. The nipple. Anywhere she wants to pierce you, to break down your body and insert herself.
But she doesn’t stop. She kisses down your stomach, and as her lips tickle the soft and curling hair between your legs, you arch your back and moan. Other times, you’ve called out for goddesses. But now only your lover’s name escapes your lips, coming from deep inside you. The breath is hot like a chasm all the way to the abyss. It doesn’t matter. The source is irrelevant to the beauty. Her name can never be defiled. It can never be impure.
“Iriel,” you cry.
***
Orilana slipped out of bed, and the transcripts she’d been reading fell to the floor. Her body was drenched with sweat, but they didn’t have water for baths. They didn’t have much of anything. Iriel had taken the Abbey. What had started as a rebellion was now a takeover, and Orilana’s paladins were the tiny insurgent force trying to hold out. They could hardly leave their cave these days. Iriel’s monsters and dryads kept careful watch. Though Orilana assumed they were being some twisted form of merciful. They had to have a way through. The oreads alone could tunnel through and kill them all.
What was Iriel waiting for?
They had asked Prim some form of that question a dozen times. But the vampire wouldn’t answer questions. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t talk. She had all manner of things to say to each paladin that guarded her. She would taunt them, speculating how their blood would taste. She would tease them about their virginity and purity, making lewd comments and drinking in their bodies with lurid glances. She would wonder aloud about the amount of pubic hair they had and what color it was. She would think aloud about where their scars were, and if she could open them up with her teeth.
They had taken to plugging their ears with wax or strips of cloth when they watched her.
Harza suggested they gag the demon, but Orilana knew that eventually Prim would slip. She would say something she didn’t intend. She would give something away. Guards kept their ears plugged, but nearby, a paladin would transcribe all of Prim’s comments and mutterings. When she was done, she went to confession and cleansed herself of the abominable comments. After that, she would give the transcripts to Orilana to read over.
There was no one for Orilana to confess to.
Orilana splashed water on her face and didn’t bother to dry it. She let the droplets run down her chin and neck, slide down her back and chest. The cool water was a sweet relief, and she could pretend for a moment it was a bath. But after taking a deep breath, she went to her desk, grabbed a piece of parchment, her quill, and began to write her doom:
Dear Iriel,
I have debated over and over if I should write you. To say it is a temptation would be a lie. I am not tempted to speak with you. For I know that you are no more than Maloth. The beast has twisted your mind. She has slithered inside of you and corrupted all that is good. There is no more Iriel. My best friend is dead, and the archenemy of all that is good and beautiful killed her.
But in a war, it may be appropriate for the corresponding generals to speak with each other, to broker terms, to potentially discuss peace. That is what I am here to write you about. I want you to know that there will be no peace. We will not surrender. You shall not have us. If you storm through the walls of our cavern, breaking stone and flesh, we will slit our own throats before you will corrupt us.
I will slit my own throat before you corrupt me.
But I’m sure you know the state of my paladins and our resources. I’m sure there are spies in our ranks as there are spies in yours. I know you have the Abbey. I know dark powers that haven’t walked the earth in a millennia sleep in your bed. I know that we are up against the night itself, as inevitable as each setting sun. So, there is only one question left:
What are you waiting for?
There was a knock at the door. Orilana flinched, stood up, sat back down, grabbed the piece of parchment, and crumpled it up.
“Come in,” she shouted.
The door opened, and Harza entered with an eager look on her half-orc face. “She’s talking,” she said.
“The prisoner?”
Harza nodded. The half-orc was dirty and ragged like everyone else, but she didn’t complain about it once. Her hair was now matted down and plastered to her scalp, but she smiled often. It was a simple but elegant balm to Orilana’s weary soul.
“All she does is talk,” Orilana said.
“Not raving or insulting or …” Harza looked away. “Whatever else she does.”
Orilana frowned. “Actually talking?”
Harza nodded. “But she has one condition.”
“And that is?”
“She’ll only talk to you.”
Orilana tapped the corner of her desk. This had to be another trap. Prim was just another iteration of Farryn. She would be another mouthpiece for whatever foulness Maloth had in store. It was probably all disinformation. But maybe it could be more. Maybe they could bind her to something. She would need a priestess of acolyte capable of it.
“Go get Rella. Make sure she’s there,” Orilana said. The veiled girl was a welcome surprise. Her story was vague about how she’d escaped the Abbey, so Orilana assumed it was tragic and traumatizing. But having someone who knew the ways of divine magic, of spells and bindings and rituals beyond what paladins were taught, could be the difference in this war.
“Yes, Captain,” Harza said. She left and closed the door behind her. Orilana took the balled-up piece of parchment, uncrumpled it, and read it one last time. Then she crumpled it up again, grabbed a candle, and burned the letter.
***
Rella
The unfortunate thing about her new powers was that Rella didn’t get the chance to show them off to anybody. The morons around her saw the veil and didn’t think anything of it. Rella had half a mind to flay the mind of an unsuspecting paladin, put the veil on the poor girl, and let her go around the dirty cave in her place.
Maloth had blessed her with the ability to take any shape, any appearance. She could be Iriel or Prim or Farryn or Orilana in a heartbeat. She could be dark and lovely. She could be pale and fierce. Her skin was its own veil now. The only one who saw what she was beneath it, who could ever see the crooked nudity of her soul, was Maloth. She had worshipped at the altar of her goddess — Iriel’s flesh — hungrily these past weeks. Iriel became crueler and bored. She devised new ways to torment Rella, to punish her for her wicked deeds. But no punishment was enough; all of them brought pain and pleasure in equal amounts. Iriel didn’t cum anymore when they fucked, but every breath was orgasmic to Rella now. Life with Maloth was torment and bliss in perfect harmony.
Rella was given a simple task: bring Prim in as a distraction and find the Staff of the Eclipse. It was simple because the paladins would trust her and depend on her. Simple because she could change her appearance with the smallest amount of willpower. Simple because the paladins love trusting people and she’d already brought them a prize. She would let Prim distract them while she looked for the Staff, and then slip out with Orilana’s face.
Of course, that had been the plan before Harza found her and demanded she attend Prim’s interrogation. They were in a separate location from other prisoners — one made for Prim. There was a constant beam of sunlight dropping down and decorating the bars. They ringed the cage with holy water, and they kept two guards posted that changed every hour. Down the hall, a scribe copied every delightful thing Prim had to say.
Harza shoved some wax in her ears and handed them to Rella. “You’ll want these.”
Rella looked down and scoffed. “How will I hear the Captain’s command.”
“You’ll know if she needs you by the bleeding and screaming.”
Rella closed Harza’s hand, wrapping the lovely half-orc’s fingers around the wax. “I won’t hear the screaming with these in. Trust me. The beast won’t turn me. You forget that I brought her to you.”
Harza looked at Rella for a long moment, shrugged, and let Rella approach. Orilana was already there. The Captain’s black hair was in a messy braid with fraying hairs all around her. She stank as all the paladins did, and her pale grey skin looked sickly under the torchlight.
“Cap —” Orilana held up a hand and silenced the veiled woman.
“I talk,” she said. “I may need you to compel her, bind her, or kill her. Prepare the necessary spells.”
Rella bowed. “As you wish.”
“Finally,” Prim said. Her silver hair was dirty and wet. The vampire had long abandoned her paladin’s armor for simple and tight fighting clothes made in a quiet black fabric for catching her prey. The pants were torn, and the shoulders were ripped by Rella to make Prim’s entrance more dramatic.
“I want to know why Iriel is stalling,” Orilana said. “Are you prepared to discuss that?”
Prim sneered in response.
Orilana looked at Rella. “She’s going to lie, you know?”
Rella nodded. “I know.”
“Oh come, Rella,” Prim said. “Let’s not play games. Do you remember our sweet chats through the twisting caverns of this abominable rock?”
Rella reached for her magic immediately. White and burning light danced around her fingertips. Was Prim going to give her up? Iriel said the vampire was wily, but she wouldn’t ruin Maloth’s plans for a laugh, would she?
“I remember shackling your mouth shut,” Rella said. She forced her voice to stay even, trying not to let the shape of her true magic — thick purple smoke — show in front of the paladins.
Prim laughed and turned her attention to Orilana. “I wanted to tell you that you have lovely eyes.”
Orilana took a step back. “What?”
“That’s all. If you can stand to hear it without plugging your ears like the rest of these cowards, I just wanted to tell you that you have lovely eyes. That’s why I came here.”
“You didn’t come here,” Rella said. “I dragged you.”
Prim’s head turned lazily as her eyes settled on Rella. “Come now,” was all she said. She turned back to Orilana with a smirk on her face. Rella fumed.
Orilana shook her head. “If this is all you have to say to me, you’ve wasted my time.” The Captain turned and grabbed Rella’s elbow. “Come, acolyte.”
“Your beauty astounds me,” Prim shouted after them as they walked. “Even now. Do the heavens know you’ve stolen the stars for your eyes?”
Orilana whirled around and grabbed the bars of Prim’s cage. Rella held her breath. If Prim wanted to attack, this would be the time. But Prim watched Orilana carefully. The vampire’s condescending smirk was gone. Her face was placid, almost eager.
“What’s your game?” Orilana asked.
Prim shook her head. She sank to her knees and cast her eyes down. The chains binding her rattled as she sank. “I’m not playing any games. I’m tired of games.”
“This sounds like the kind of thing you’ve been saying to my paladins. Trying to lower their guard.”
Prim looked up at her. Her eyes were wide, and Rella thought they looked wet. “Would you ever lower your guard around something like me? Now that I’ve become this …” Prim turned her head away and whispered, “Monster.”
Orilana let her hands slip further through the bars, as though she wanted to reach out and hold Prim. There was a long moment between them. Rella waited for Prim to lunge and rip Orilana’s hands away from her wrists. She waited for Orilana to summon her magic and blast the demon back. She waited for the catch, but nothing happened. As time passed, both women softened. Orilana pulled her hands back through the bars and stepped away from the cage.
“I’m sorry for being a brat,” Prim said. “Before I became this. I never got the chance to apologize or change.”
Orilana shook her head. “It’s too late for that now.”
Prim shook her head. “No. It’s not.”
Orilana gasped and stepped closer to the bars. “What?”
“Maloth is freedom. Maloth is choice. She never forces anything on us we don’t want.”
Orilana scoffed. “More propaganda.”
Prim shook her head. “It’s not that. There’s a way back. Azora can save me.”
“I’m supposed to believe you want to be saved?”
“You think I let her drag me back here? Rella?” Prim sneered at the veiled woman.
“I think you’re planning something. That’s why you’re here.”
“If I —” Prim looked down again. Her shoulder shook, and a large teardrop fell from her face and splattered on the stone floor of her cell. Rella didn’t know the vampire was biologically capable of crying. “Will you assume I’m lying no matter what I tell you?”
“Yes.”
“If I say that Maloth was in my heart long before Iriel betrayed me?”
Orilana said nothing. Her hands turned into fists, and her jaw clenched.
“If I say that I’ve loved you for a long, long time. That Maloth has just given me permission to have what I’ve always longed for, to be what I’ve always been?”
“A murderer?”
“You think — That’s all I am to you?”
“That’s all I see. A demon who would kill me and everyone I love.”
“I didn’t choose to become this. I want to go back. I want to be with Azora. I want to be with you.”
Orilana shook her head and stepped away.
“It’s always been you, Orilana.” Prim’s voice cracked as stood up and strained against the chains of her cell. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I let them take me.” Orilana kept walking away. She waved for Rella to follow. “When I heard it was you against Maloth, I had to come back. I had to switch sides. I had to —”
Orilana slipped out of sight, and Prim sunk to her knees, defeated. With her head cast down, and her body wrapped in shadow, Rella almost missed the condescending smirk that danced along the vampire’s lips.
Almost.
***
Orilana
Orilana didn’t sleep that night. Serra came back and reported that another group of paladins were taken by surprise. Oreads and naiads oozed out of the walls and forced themselves on the women. Cries of pain turned to moans of pleasures, and within the hour, the paladins were either pierced or taken to the pools for transformation. All night Orilana thought of a mountain of monsters beneath her. But these were her sisters and friends. They had fought the darkness with her. They were the last bastion of light in a dimming world.
Now they were nothing but holes to be filled.
When Orilana knew sleep wouldn’t come, she got out of bed and went to her desk. She grabbed another piece of parchment, and started writing:
Dear Iriel,
I don’t hate you. I want you to know that before the end. Before you kill me or I kill you, I want you to know that there is no hatred in me for my best friend, Iriel. There is no spite for the High Priestess of Azora. I do not even blame you for your weakness. You were the door Maloth chose to enter the world, but I don’t think you would have opened it if you knew what it would bring. I don’t think you would walk where I couldn’t follow.
You’ve beaten us. By the time you get this, it won’t matter, if I send this at all. Every time one of my paladins falls, an enemy rises up. And no matter what games you play with Prim, I won’t fall for her trap. But a stalemate serves you. I want you to know that I won’t quit. I won’t surrender. You can call it pride or vanity, but I still believe in goodness. I believe in doing the right thing. I don’t think temperance, prudence, or modesty are to be scoffed at. I don’t think they are shackles around our souls. I believe in Azora.
And I believe in you.
When I fight you, when I snarl and hiss and force you to kill me before you turn me into a demon, I want you to know that it isn’t Iriel I hate. You kissed me, and I staggered away, afraid. I hurt you, but in that moment, I could only see the smoke and dark shape Maloth had twisted you into. I could only see what Maloth had taken away from me. I hate her for that. I will never forgive her. Never bend my knee. Never submit. Too many people have died for her pleasure. Too many souls have been twisted, dreams and passions snuffed out, because Maloth believes the height of existence is pleasure.
She is wrong. There are deeper forces that make life worth living: unity, sisterhood, faith, hope, and love. Yes, love. You know that I love you. But the thing pounding on my door, sending nightmares to me each night — for I know it is you — is not my love, my Iriel. It is the monster that has locked her away, and if I cannot save her, if she will not let me save her, I would rather burn than join the twisted dance macabre she is forced through each day.
You are not wrong. You were never wrong. Not your desires or passions or urges. For I loved you before Maloth corrupted you. And if you can find your way back to me, back to that, then maybe there is a way out of this war. Maybe together, we can avenge our fallen sisters, avenge the time we lost to Maloth’s games, and I may try once more, to kiss you for the first time.
I’ll do it properly this time, I promise.
Love,
Your Captain
Orilana finished the letter, stood up, grabbed the candle, and burned it. Then with the strength of her convictions stirring within her, she grabbed her sword and left her tiny room. She knew what she was going to do, what she needed to do. She had stalled long enough, and that had cost lives. Hope had cost lives.
Harza looked up from a conversation with wounded paladins, saw the Captain, and ran to Orilana’s side. “You alright?” she asked as she matched Orilana’s stride.
“I think I know what I need to do.”
“You think?”
“Just need one more bit of information.”
“Permission to speak candidly?” Harza said.
Orilana paused and turned to her. Something about the bite in Harza’s tone reminded Orilana of Prim, of an argument they had in Iriel’s office. Orilana looked deep into Harza’s dark eyes, looking for any changes in her second. Prim’s hair had changed when she’d been corrupted, but Harza looked like Harza. The only change was the obvious fatigue and grime that clung to her.
“Granted,” said Orilana, but her hand gripped her sword tightly. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again.
“There is a war going on,” Harza said. “I doubt paladins of an abbey have been trained for war, but I need you to start thinking in terms of a general and not a theologian.”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Harza shook her head. “I think you’re too close to the problem.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Any other tips for me?”
Harza clenched her fists, rocked on her heels, and looked around the crowded cavern. It had once been crowded with warriors and weapons. Now there were cots and bedrolls pressed against each other with the wounded moaning while other paladins made their best attempts at proper healing magic.
Where in the dawn’s light was Rella? They could use an acolyte for some proper healing.
Harza took a step closer to Orilana. Close enough to slide a knife through the weak points of Orilana’s armor. Close enough to kiss. “Tell me what you need to know to be sure. Whatever it is you’re about to go find out with that sword white-knuckled in your hand. What is it?”
Orilana took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I want to know if our people can be saved.”
“And by our people you mean Iriel.”
“If Iriel is saved this whole war is won in a single stroke.”
“She’s lying.”
“Iriel?”
“Iriel. Prim. All of them. You can’t trust anyone. You can’t even trust me. This is war, Captain. It isn’t theology, not anymore. I don’t care about the proper tenants of Azora when I have to hold the hands of a dying friend and lie to them by saying everything is going to be alright. It isn’t.”
“Then what would you have me do? Stage an attack?”
“Would they expect that?”
“And if I can’t trust you? If this is another nightmare sent by Maloth to plague me?”
“Then don’t trust me. Trust yourself. Trust what you’ve known and always known.”
Orilana opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. That’s what she had been doing, what she was trying to do. For so long, trusting Azora and Iriel had been the same thing. Now she was forced to choose between them. Which came first? Which owned the most real estate in her heart?
“I’m going to get my answer.” Orilana swallowed. “A true answer. Then I’ll know what to do. I’ll act decisively from then on.”
Harza nodded. Her eyes darted to something behind Orilana, and the captain spun to see Rella enter the room. “Is she part of your plan?” Harza asked.
Orilana nodded.
“I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t have to. I do.”
Harza’s eyes went back to Orilana. “You shouldn’t trust her either.”
“She’s an acolyte.”
“Everything we fight used to be an acolyte or a paladin. That doesn’t mean much anymore.” Harza nodded in Rella’s direction. “And I don’t like that veil. It’s like she has permission to hide something.”
“No one’s hiding anything.”
“Everyone’s hiding something. You’re surrounded by enemies. Don’t forget that.”
Orilana nodded. “You coming?”
Harza nodded. “If for no other reason than to keep an eye on her.”
“Suit yourself.”
Orilana beckoned Rella over and ordered her to follow them for one last interrogation with Prim. As they walked through the corridors to the separate location where they held Prim, Rella had to half jog to keep up with the long-legged and impatient warriors.
“There’s something I wanted to speak to you about before you talk to her again,” Rella said breathlessly. Though if it were nerves or the climb, Orilana couldn’t tell.
“I’ll want a zone of truth around her. On top of that, compel her to answer my questions thoroughly and honestly.”
“She’s too strong for that,” Rella said. “And there’s something else you should —”
“I’ll weaken her,” Orilana said.
“Yes, but I need to talk to you about —”
“You bound her before, yes?” Harza asked. “How did you do it the first time.”
“A bit of luck,” Rella snapped. “I’d hate to depend on it twice.” Harza huffed but said nothing more. “As I was saying, there is something you should know before we go in there.”
Orilana paused before rounding the corner of another passageway and exposing them to Prim’s ears. “Yes?”
“Iriel had tasked me to research more about the specifics between Maloth and Azora, their origins, conflict, and Maloth’s supposed demise.”
“Was this before or after her corruption?” Harza asked.
“Before.” Rella turned her face towards the half-orc, letting her bright green eyes bear down on her. She turned back to Orilana. “I believe she wanted to know more about Maloth, empower the goddess, prevent a future demise, or perhaps corrupt me.”
“And did it corrupt you?” Harza asked.
“I spent weeks in tomes finding alternate and arcane translations while the Abbey went to hell,” Rella said, ignoring Harza. “There was one interesting phraseology that I discovered, but when I brought it up to Iriel, she barely flinched.”
Harza sighed. “More theology?”
“Hush,” Orilana snapped. “Go on, acolyte.”
“Well, before she tasked me with this, I was already dealing with translations inaccuracies between the elvish, celestial, abyssal, and infernal translations of the Divine Dictations, and —”
“The point,” Harza snapped. “Find it now.”
Rella looked at Harza slowly. “Azora didn’t slay Maloth. She consumed her. Absorbed her. Took her essence inside her. Within Azora there is always a bit of Maloth, and I assume now because of the nature of Iriel, the other side is true for Maloth. The sister goddesses are closer to two sides of the same coin rather than two enemies.”
Harza sighed. “What does this have to —”
“Quiet,” Orilana said. She stepped closer to Rella and put her hands on the veiled woman’s shoulder. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “What does that mean for Iriel?”
“It means she may be inside there. There may be a way out. What Prim is saying may not be entirely false.” Rella reached up and grabbed Orilana’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “It means there may be hope.”
Orilana was quiet for a long time. This was the answer she needed, but Harza was right. No one could be trusted. She would get her answers. She wasn’t going to leave Prim’s cell without it.
“Let’s go,” she said. She let go of Rella, and the three women moved down the stone passage. As they got closer, they heard the low singing of Prim. She was singing a hymn about the rising dawn being a promise of darkness’s end. She had a lovely voice.
When they reached the cell, Orilana waited while Rella prepared the zone of truth. Prim didn’t stop singing as Rella worked, but she kept her eyes fixed on Orilana. The captain thought of the vampire’s lie, that she loved her. Even if it were true, Prim’s love could only be a cruel hunger now.
And Orilana’s heart belonged to another.
“Harza, get ready,” Orilana commanded. She looked at guards. “Let me in.”
“Captain?” one asked.
“Let me in.”
“The prisoner is chained,” Harza said. “Let the Captain in.”
The guards obeyed. Prim kept singing about starlight and moonlight reminding us of Azora when everything felt lost. Before the door swung open, they drew their swords and gripped them tight. Harza and Orilana did the same. But Prim was hunched and relaxed. She was weary and filthy. Yet her voice and her smile were stunning.
It’s a trap, Orilana had to remind herself. It’s all a trick.
Orilana stepped into the cage and ordered them to close it behind them. They obeyed. As the lock clicked, Prim finally stopped singing.
“Lovely song,” Prim said.
“Foul from your lips,” Orilana said. “Sounds like you’re mocking it.”
“You know, I think if Maloth had songs like that, people wouldn’t be so afraid of her.”
“Is that your angle for today? Maloth is the victim of a bad reputation. Gossip is her downfall?”
Prim smirked. “Rethought my words?”
Orilana sheathed her sword. “I’m going to beat you soon.”
“Oh goodie,” Prim said flatly.
“I want you to know that I don’t believe in torture.”
“But beating is —”
“So I’m going to take your chains off. You’re welcome to defend yourself.”
“Captain?” Harza asked.
Orilana didn’t turn back at them. It didn’t matter. She was out of time. “I’m going to compel you to answer my questions. But Rella tells me you’ll need to be softened up a bit.”
“Beating plus forcing me against my will to answer by magical means,” Prim said with another smirk. “Doesn’t sound like torture at all.”
Orilana ignored and began unshackling her. It was a magical binding that only Orilana and Serra knew the word to break. She braced herself for some quick movement from Prim, but the vampire stayed still as the first chain fell to the floor. She only rubbed her wrists once the second one fell.
“Now you’ll feel okay beating me?” Prim asked.
Orilana draws her sword. “You don’t have to defend herself if you don’t want to.”
“I submit to the spell,” Prim said. She leaned to the left, looking beyond Orilana to Rella. “That’s how it works, right? She doesn’t have to beat me if I submit to it?”
“You what?” Orilana asked.
“Th-that’s right,” Rella said.
Prim nodded to herself. “Good. I submit then.” Her smile widened. “It’s not Maloth that’s afraid of the truth.”
“Do it,” Harza said. “Do it now.”
“Yes, yes.” Rella began chanting in celestial, but Orilana kept her hands on her sword. She widened her stance. She’d fought some of Prim’s spawn. The vampires were incredibly fast. She’d have to imagine Prim was faster. This was a trick, it all had to be.
A pale golden light filled the room like faerie fire. The air was lighter and cleaner, but something about it clung to Orilana’s throat.
“Are you in love with Iriel?” Prim asked.
“Of course.” Orilana blushed at how quickly she spoke the words. She wanted to turn around and see Harza’s reaction, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Prim.
“You tricked me,” Orilana said.
“I did,” Prim said. “Afraid of the truth?”
“Yes.” She took a step back. One hand lifted from her sword and covered her mouth.
“Leave Captain,” Harza said. “This is a trick.”
Orilana uncovered her mouth. “I can’t until I have my answers,” Orilana said.
“Do you enjoy the dreams she’s been sending you?” Prim asked.
“Yes.” Orilana covered her mouth again. This time she turned around to see the shocked expression on Harza’s face. Prim’s laughter filled the chamber.
“Perhaps we should take turns,” Prim said. “After all, this is your torture chamber.”
Harza, Rella, and the other guards didn’t say anything. Did they wonder what dreams Prim spoke of? Did it matter? If Orilana liked anything Maloth or Iriel was doing, she was contaminated. Doomed. But they kept their eyes on Orilana, waiting to see what her next move was. Slowly, Orilana turned back around. She was being clumsy, falling for each trick. She shouldn’t take her eyes off the vampire. She needed to keep her hands on her blade.
“Is this a trap?” Orilana asked.
“Yes.” Prim shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“Why are you here?”
“To get the Staff of the Eclipse.”
“What do you need it for?”
“A ritual.” Prim sighed and rolled her shoulders. It was hard to believe she was under the effect of Rella’s spell. She spoke casually as she betrayed her goddess and High Priestess. “Maloth needs an avatar,” she said. “An actual body she can inhabit so she can leave her celestial cage and enter the material plane. Once she’s here, her power can grow, and she won’t need an avatar anymore.”
The heat of embarrassment that had flushed Orilana’s skin was replaced by the cold of dread. “Iriel will be the avatar?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Prim smirked. “Honest. My turn for a question?”
“What?” Orilana’s head buzzed as she imagined Iriel dead and gone, nothing but a true husk for Maloth to fill. The other monsters kept some part of themselves though it was twisted and broken. If what Prim said was true — and of course it was — then Iriel would be dead and gone forever. There would be nothing left.
“Does someone need to be good to be loveable?” Prim asked.
“No,” Orilana said without thinking. There was the light pat of footsteps on stone, but Orilana’s mind whirled and vision blurred. She had to save Iriel. That had to be her next question. How can she save Iriel?
“Then what’s keeping you from Iriel?”
“We have chosen different paths.”
“Then choose her path,” Prim said. Orilana felt the vampire’s breath on her neck. She spun in time, but Prim didn’t lunge for her throat. She lunged for Orilana’s lips. Harza and the guards shouted, but Orilana was too shocked to move. Prim kissed her, but Orilana’s mind floated away.
***
At the end of one path is a white and shining city. The other is covered in barbs and snakes, but an elven woman with copper hair and rich honey skin stands naked and waiting for you. You forget all about the beautiful city and the haunting music calling you to its gates. You cross to your lover and wrap her in your arms. Let the snakes and thorns bite you. You kiss her, and the poison filling your body doesn’t burn anymore. You don’t feel the heat of the city aflame. You don’t care as Iriel’s claws drag long wounds across your back. You don’t feel the pain of her fangs biting your lips, moving down your neck, to the soft spot where it meets the shoulder.
You only cry out her name as she pierces you, fucking your neck with her fangs.
***
Rella
“Iriel,” Orilana moaned as Prim sank her teeth into the captain. Outside of the cage, the guards and Harza sprang into action. Rella wasn’t sure what Prim had been planning, but she acted quickly. Her spell lashed out and wrapped around one paladin, breaking the poor girl’s neck. She reached for the other, but Harza had already opened the cage. Inside, Orilana came to her senses and threw Prim off her. Prim backed away, smiling and licking the captain’s blood from her chin.
The two paladins circled the vampire. There was no more banter or games between them. Rella sent a thick tendril of magic down one the other guard’s throat, choking her slowly. While she was distracted, there was a quick flash of golden light, snarls, and the sounds of blade cutting through flesh. In the time it took Rella to look, Prim darted out of the cage with a large gash along her forearm.
“Bind her!” Orilana shouted as she sprinted after the impossibly quick demon. Harza ran after them, limping from a wound. Rella prepared the spell and lashed it around Harza’s throat and legs. The half-orc fell with a cry, but Orilana didn’t look back. She kept running after Prim, leaving Rella alone with her prey.
“I hear you don’t like me very much,” Rella said. “Let’s see if we can’t fix that.”
***
In the Captain’s small chamber, Harza sighed with relief when she finally found the Staff of the Eclipse. She took it out and admired the ancient artifact. She’d thought there would be a rush of power or some surging ecstasy when she touched it. There wasn’t. The staff was made of twinning onyx and gold. At the head, there was a pennant of the shining sun. Wrapped around that sun was a crescent moon, appearing mostly eclipsed.
On the bed, the other Harza moaned. Though Rella wasn’t sure if that was from pleasure or pain. She shrugged. They were the same thing to Maloth in the end. She looked back at the fun tableau she left for Orilana: Harza, the refined half-orc captain, was bound to the bed. Each limb got its own corner, keeping her spread eagle. She was naked, and Rella admired the beautiful scarring and musculature of the lithe woman. She simply had to try on that skin before she left the little camp and returned to Iriel.
Bound with her face buried deep in Harza’s pussy was a random paladin Rella convinced to come with them. She had dark skin and smooth features, with a kinky mane of hair. Her hands and knees were bound, keeping her kneeling with her arms behind her back. Those bindings were then attached to the bed. Another binding around the beautiful girl’s neck kept her head in place. But just to be sure, Rella gave her a powerful spell. If she wanted to breathe, she’d have to lick. It didn’t matter if she enjoyed it, she couldn’t even pass out and let her body take over. The spell was stronger than that.
Harza writhed against her bindings pointless. Rella chuckled. “It’s amazing when you reach that point that something feels too good. When something hurts just right?” Rella shook her head, the one that was now identical to Harza’s. With a ripple of her power, Rella’s form flickered. Then, at the front of the room Orilana stood with the Staff of the Eclipse in her hands.
“When you get free from this,” Rella said to Harza. “Know that I’ll still get off on the memory of it. I imagine you will as well. Eventually.”
Harza only moaned in response.
Rella/Orilana laughed and stepped out of the room. Outside, the cavern was in chaos. Paladins were arming themselves. Some turned to Rella/Orilana and asked for order, but she gave them vague answers about preparing for attack. There were mutters about it being a suicide mission to attack now.
Rella smirked. That wouldn’t be so bad, now would it?

Embrace of the Goddess Part 9 [FF] [Mind Control] [Fantasy] [Corruption] [Dreams]

Chapter 9: Dreams & Prisons
Orilana
You walk through your mother’s garden. Each tulip and primrose are in bloom. The scent is thick in the air, like the summer heat of a muggy swamp. It wraps around you, caressing your skin, sliding up and down your back, your neck, your legs.
You walk for hours, lured be some strange yet familiar scent. It is sickly sweet, like an overripe strawberry. It’s the wrong season, and you go deeper and deeper into the garden, looking for it.
As you go, the walls of the garden crumble. There are vines and flowers. Animals roam. The flowers don’t lose their beauty for the savagery. The wildlife revel in your sight, in the sound of your steps in their wilderness, in the taste of your scent mingling with theirs.
You spot the source of the smell: a carpet of jasmine flowers that cover a ruined throne. The smell is right, but the rot is wrong. The flowers are in bloom. Your timing is perfect. You reach out and pluck one, then hiss from the sting of the thornless plant.
Blood swells on your fingertips. You bring them to your lips and suck, but it is not the iron you’ve known your whole life. It is the pungent and sticky scent that haunts the shattered garden. You pull the finger away, but the blood returns quickly. You suck at it again, and the same taste washes over you like lover’s hands. You sigh into it, but when you pull the finger away, it’s still bleeding.
So you keep feeding.
***
Orilana took another bath when she woke up. Water was in short supply in the corner of the Abbey where the paladins were hiding, but she couldn’t lead her people drenched in sweat and reeking of lust. There was a rebellion to put down — an incursion by the worst foe of their goddess — and she could barely keep her mind focused on the task at hand.
This would have been a lot easier if Iriel had never kissed her. Fighting Maloth was going to be hard enough, but trying to fight off her best friend crushed her. Add the kiss and —
“Captain?” asked Harza.
“Hm?” Orilana looked at the small council of paladins that she was meeting with. They all stared at her. Two of them were covered in dirt and gore from a night of patrolling and fighting off demons and nymphs.
“We’re running out of cells for the … afflicted,” said Harza. The half-orc sergeant’s bravery and reliability made her an easy choice for second-in-command. She was lithe and muscular, with the sides of her hair shaved, and the hair on top spiky and dark when it wasn’t matted down by a helmet or sweat. Her dark green skin and tusks made her the target of rumors and speculation from other paladins — Orcs were often a wild and dangerous foe — but there was none gentler in the Abbey than Harza.
“Ah, right. How many from last night’s raid?”
“We just said —”
“I know,” sighed Orilana. “I apologize. I’m not getting much sleep.”
Eyes darted around the room at each other. That could be interpreted several ways, but the conclusion was the same: maybe Orilana wasn’t fit to lead them.
“Three,” said one of the elven paladins.
Orilana shook her head. “Pierced, charmed, or worse?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “We cut down anyone beyond ch—”
“That’s enough,” said Harza softly. “Just answer the Captain’s question.”
“Three charmed,” said the elf with a bite. “Two were put down.”
Orilana ran her hands through her hair. On one hand, Maloth didn’t want to kill any of the paladins. She seduced and corrupted them, but the demon goddess was never the one doing the ripping and slaying. The paladins had to cut down their own sisters that were pierced or forced into the pools. Anyone simply charmed was forced to sit in a cell until they detoxed or the charm could be dispelled.
But they were running out of cells in this shabby cave.
“We can’t keep this up forever,” said a human woman still wrapped in bandages. Kivyet had ripped the piercings out of her nipples before their power took effect. She was still recovering but refused to abandon her role as guard or councilor.
“I know,” said Orilana.
“No,” said Harza softly. “We don’t mean a few more weeks or months. We may be talking days before we’re too small to defend this place.”
“Exactly,” said Kivyet.
“But we have the Staff of Eclipse,” said Orilana.
“And have you any breakthroughs in using it?” asked a pale half-elf with bright red hair.
“No,” said Orilana. She had been forced to stay with the Staff of Eclipse night after night, trying to make sense of its power. Perhaps it could cure those afflicted. It may even save Iriel. But paladins were trained in the combat magic and only the most basic of healing and casting. They weren’t skilled enough to do much with it.
“If you can’t maintain the stamina to defeat a stronger opponent, what do you do?” Serra, an Aasimar that was usually silent during these meetings, said.
“Run,” said Orilana.
“And when you can’t?” The angelic woman turned her pale white eyes on her. Serra had always been more angel than woman. It made most of the paladins distrust her, though Orilana thought it should always have done the opposite.
“End it quick, probably at a high cost.”
“How can we end it?” asked Kivyet. “We’re outnumbered.”
“We need information,” said the elven woman.
“I agree,” said Harza. “We need to know what Iriel wants and what she can or can’t do.”
Orilana nodded. “If Maloth had really returned, she could have blasted us out of this cave.”
“So she must need something.”
“The staff,” said Serra.
“For what?”
“That,” said Serra as she stood. “Is what we need to find out.”
The few paladins with a mind for the intricacies of magic had looked at the piercings they’d taken from a few women. They didn’t know how they worked beyond controlling those that were pierced. The paladins were cut off from the library and anything else more reliable. They were fighting blind.
“Send a team,” said Orilana. “A stealth operation.”
“Who wants to go?”
They all raised their hands.
“Kivyet, you’re hurt,” said Orilana.
“I don’t plan to do much fighting,” said the woman. “Besides, I don’t need nipples to sneak.”
The half-elf woman flinched at the thought of having damaged nipples. Some said Kivyet had none, but that wasn’t true.
“I need some here to help me watch over this.”
“I’ll stay,” said Harza. “But I’m willing to go if that will be better.”
“You stay,” said Orilana. “The rest?” she looked at the wounded and tired women and the impassive and almost immortal eyes of Serra. “Rest up. Gather whatever you need. You get the best. If we’re not going to last long, there’s no point in saving it for a rainy day. This is it.”
The women nodded in agreement. “Agreed,” said Serra. They all stood up, feeling the ending of the meeting.
“Dismissed,” said Orilana.
***
You run through the smoke of the burning building. From deep inside, you hear the cries of a woman, panicked and afraid. You call out to her and calm her. But the smoke drowns out your voice. It drowns out vision and smell. Your body awakens and burns. It lusts for oxygen, but only drinks in smoke upon smoke.
The walls crumble around you, and the way is shut behind you. You follow the voice, the only hope of life in this abandoned place. It’s high and desperate. It’s almost a shriek. You want to tell her to conserve air.
You find her in the bedroom, but the woman there is charred to a husk. There is a silhouette of shadow and smoke lying beside her. The shadow’s legs are spread, and one hand is between them. The shrieking comes from the smoke, and now it sounds like moaning.
Behind you, the building collapses until there is nothing but this room and the smoke. The ash of the corpse flutters away. There is only the smoke and the flame. There is only the heat and the moans. There is only the fire. There is only the smoke as it floats towards you and presses against you.
When the moans wrap around you, you don’t know where they come from anymore.
***
“I’m not convinced it’s wrong,” said Harza over breakfast.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Still not getting sleep?”
Orilana rubbed her eyes. “No.”
“Maybe you should take less baths.”
The Captain lifted her head to stare down the half-orc. Harza looked appropriately ashamed and turned away. “Guess not,” she muttered.
“The cold baths keep me awake,” said Orilana. “That’s how —”
“You don’t need to explain it to me,” said Harza. “I apologize, Captain. I overstepped.”
Orilana finished the last of her dried apple. Her stomach grumbled for more, but that wasn’t going to happen. She refused to lose because they were starved out. She’d conserve, for now.
“Do you have siblings, Sergeant?”
Harza shook her head. “Just a tribe, but I don’t — for obvious reasons, I don’t —”
“I understand.” Orilana knew that Harza came from a brutal people. They had asked her to butcher some slaves to make a point. She couldn’t do it. They claimed it was her human side and sent her away. Even during her interview to join the Abbey, getting her to talk about it was like pulling her tusks.
“I have six sisters,” said Orilana. “And the more time we spend cramped in this tiny cave, the more I’m starting to feel like a girl in my mother’s house.”
“How so?”
“Too many eyes. Too much pressure. Too much …” Orilana waved her hands as she struggled to find the word.
“No privacy,” said Harza.
“Yeah.”
“It was the same in the tribe, though some of the things fancy elves want privacy for are a bit silly to Orcs.”
“Such as?”
“Well no Orc blinks when they hear rutting from the tent nearby, but I imagine it’d be the scandal of the Abbey.”
“Oh,” Orilana blushed and looked away.
“Though that’d be debauchery here, I guess,” said Harza.
“Not exactly.”
“But I thought with our battle against Maloth and —”
“Azora isn’t against love making between consensual adults. What Maloth is suggesting is different.”
“What about two women?” asked Harza.
“I don’t think Azora frowns on that.”
“Then what are we —”
“Maloth is a predatory creature,” said Orilana. “Azora is a goddess of love and respect. Nothing that happens between the worshippers of Maloth is built on that. They celebrate lust and hunger and carnality and taking. They have perverted Azora’s gifts.”
“Among the Orcs, I have seen some horrible things that I know Azora would condemn. I have also seen beautiful things that I think Azora would condemn.”
Orilana sighed. “I wish I could leave theology to the theologians.”
Harza smirked. It twisted the pale silver scar on one cheek. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m not fighting Maloth’s theology. Nor am I proselytizing for Azora. I’ll leave that for the clerics if we can save them.”
“But what about —”
“We’re fighting Maloth. A demon goddess. She possesses people and takes them against their will. She hurts them for fun, for pleasure. She turns them into monsters. I don’t care who’s right and who’s wrong when it comes to sex. Maloth is wrongness herself.”
Harza shrugs. “Makes sense to me.”
They fell into a silence, but the questions still lingered with Orilana. If she weren’t a member of the Abbey, if she weren’t a paladin, would she want to have these experiences with other people? Other women? It seemed strange to think that her role as a paladin — that being in service to Azora — would disqualify her from ever making love. Though it was technically her vow, why would Azora keep her servants from the thing she blessed and encouraged among her followers? Azora was a goddess of love. Why shouldn’t Orilana be allowed to make love to a man or a woman if she wanted?
Who was she kidding? She was thinking about Iriel.
Slaying Maloth was an obvious good. It was Iriel that muddled the water. Her friend was listening to darkness incarnate.
Not her friend, not quite. Iriel had — no.
It didn’t matter. Perhaps the information her team gathered could tell her what Maloth wanted. But maybe — if they were lucky — it could tell her how to reverse the change. It wasn’t just for Iriel’s sake. Or at least, it wasn’t entirely for Iriel’s sake. If Orilana could undo the hurt Maloth had done to her sisterhood and the Abbey, then they could start to rebuild. As it stood, there was no perfect fix for this. Even if they won, the Abbey would be crippled for generations. They would battle and sweat only to be crippled at the end. Sometimes Orilana wondered if it would be better to give in, to run into the burning building instead of away from —
“What’s that?” Harza jerked her head around and several other paladins stood up. There was some commotion from the entrance to the cave. Orilana stood up and moved to the front of the crowd gathering. There she saw the team she’d sent down into the Abbey. Kivyet and Serra were dragging a lanky and bony demon with brown skin down to the prisons they had. The crowd parted for Orilana, and the captain followed her two paladins down to the side cavern where they kept prisoners.
“Where are —”
“Didn’t make it,” said Harza from behind her.
Orilana stifle the urge to curse.
The demon howled and lunged to one side, pushing Kivyet away from her and freeing one arm. But Serra grabbed the free wrist like a viper. Her hands glowed white, and the demon’s skin crackled and peeled away as the stench of burning flesh and rotten meat filled the passageway. The demon shrieked and bucked, but Serra was unyielding. Smoke rose from the skin, and eventually the demon sagged and gave up.
“What is it?” asked Harza.
Kivyet turned and looked at her.
“You mean you don’t recognize Farryn?”
Orilana gasped. Farryn, the red-haired wonder and apprentice to Fella. She had been one of the greatest minds of the Abbey, and one of the most promising wielders of magic. Now she was nothing more than tight skin and bones that stuck out and looked like armor over a wraith. Her once beautiful and fiery hair was now wiry and dull. She had long claws and — no. She was nothing like Farryn. There was nothing of the former acolyte left in that body.
“Lock her up,” said Orilana. “Our best guards if we have to.”
“I’ll watch her,” said Serra. “I don’t have to sleep as much as —”
“You should sleep,” said Harza. “You don’t want to —”
“I’ll watch her.” Serra’s voice was cold and hollow. “For the sake of my two sisters, I’ll find the strength.”
The rest of the paladins were silent as Serra and Kivyet took Farryn to a cell. The two women looked battered and weary. Orilana dreaded the report they would give her. Every time she tried to imagine what Maloth would do to one of her paladins, the dark goddess did something worse.
“I can’t believe that’s Farryn,” whispered Harza next to Orilana.
“Neither can I. But there’s one bit of good news.”
“What’s that?”
“She’ll have answers for us.”
***
You wander through a maze of mirrors. You’re reflected in a dozen lights and shapes. The sight of your pale ashen skin and dark hair anchor you. The lines of your muscles remind you that you can smash your way out. You’re not trapped here.
And yet you keep walking.
As you go, the reflections twist into nightmares. You see yourself at a thousand wicked angles. You are a succubus with wings and a flaming whip. You are a pale shadow with fangs glistening red. You are hoofed and clawed. You are horned and dark. You are pale and twisted. You are tall and bony. You are curvy and seductive. You are large and muscular. You are hunched and crooked. You are beautiful and horrible. You are everything you feared.
And yet you keep walking.
The maze leads to a dark chamber lit by torches on the wall. In the center is a pentagram drawn on onyx stone in red salt or chalk or blood. It stains the floor and captures the light of it. Laying in the center, naked and waiting for you, is a demon. Her hair is black and cascades down her back. She has horns, claws, hooves, and a tail flicking. Her skin is a pale lavender, and smoke billows out of her like breath in the cold. Her eyes are solid black and glitter like obsidian.
She smiles and purrs at the sight of you.
One clawed hand reaches down and begins to idly tease the demon’s pussy. She moans, and you burn with lust and shame. It is then that you remember your nudity. In each reflection of the twisted halls, you were bare. You are bare. There is no armor to defend yourself, no sword to cut the demon down. There is no hiding.
The demon whispers your name, and with her free hand beckons you to come closer. You recognize her voice though her body is twisted: Iriel. She’s inviting you into the pentagram, to join her dark ritual. The hand at her pussy moves faster, and she moans your name this time. You want to flee, to strike, to lash out.
And yet you keep walking.
Walking towards your lover.
***
Farryn’s cackling filled the prisons. No matter what they did to her, there was no breaking the demon. They were running out of time. Two days of interrogating, and the demon only mocked them. Some of the paladins reported Farryn appearing in their nightmares. Some said they couldn’t sleep through the sound of her high pitched and cruel laughter.
No matter how much time Orilana spent with Farryn, she could never get over the demon’s body. The twisted lines and cruel protrusions. It looked as though it hurt for the creature to move, to breathe, to be. And yet there was a terrible feline grace to each of Farryn’s movements. The power in the beast was undeniable. It seemed to enjoy what it had become. Orilana wondered if Iriel felt the same.
Somebody said something.
The captain flexed her hands and looked down at her fingers. They were calloused and scarred from hundreds of fights. She kept her nails short, but they were perpetually dirty with sweat and dirt. They weren’t what she thought of as feminine, but at least they weren’t the crooked claws of Farryn.
Or the crooked claws of Iriel.
Iriel.
Orilana had assumed her best friend was in agony as she was transformed into a monstrosity. But perhaps that’s not it. Perhaps she’s loving it as much as Farryn. Perhaps she’s powerful and feels complete. What would it be like to trade fingertips for claws? What kind of lover could Iriel make with claws? Would it be pleasure or pain? Could it be both?
“Captain,” snapped Harza.
“Huh?” Orilana looked up. Harza and Serra were both looking at her. On the ground, in chains, Farryn was laughing at the captain.
“What do you think?” said the half-orc. Harza was haggard and worn out. Even Serra had lost her luster and intimidating presence over the last two days.
“About?”
Serra sighed. “She’s not getting sleep,” said Harza to the half-angel. “It’s okay.”
“None of us are getting sleep,” said Serra. “If she can’t focus, she should go get some sleep.”
Sleep. Where more dreams would haunt Orilana. “No,” said the captain quickly. “I’m fine. Just catch me up. I apologize.”
“I’ve asked permission to … encourage it to talk,” said Serra. Her hands glowed white.
“Torture?”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Harza. “We’re better than that. We don’t need to —”
“This is a war,” snapped Serra. “We don’t have time to —”
“If we sink to their level, then we’re no better than —”
“It’s a demon. Why on earth are you protecting a demon that —”
“She’s our sister. Perhaps there’s a way to change her back and —”
“Enough!” roared Orilana. She stood up, and her two sergeants looked at her. Her head throbbed with pain. Orilana turned to Farryn and approached the demon. It smiled wide, revealing teeth that were sharpened to points. “Is there a way to turn you back?”
Farryn laughed at them.
Serra sighed. “This is what I’m talking —”
“No!” snapped Orilana. “Leave me alone with her.”
“Captain?” asked Harza. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Double or triple the guard at the door. I don’t care. If she escapes, cut her down.”
Serra stepped up to Orilana’s side. “Captain, I can —”
“No,” said Orilana. “I’ll do this.” She turned and looked at her two sergeants. They looked at her like she was crazy. Perhaps she was. Perhaps the sleep deprivation was getting to them all.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t,” said Farryn. Her voice was grating and cruel. She clearly delighted in their fear and uncertainty.
Serra grabbed for her blade. “Captain, let me —”
“Go,” said Orilana softly.
Harza and Serra gave each other one last nervous glance and towards the door of the prisons. Around them, other women that were still afflicted with charms moaned and whimpered at the sight of flesh. Most of them thrust against the bars of their prisons in erotic despair. The paladins did their best to ignore them.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” asked Farryn.
“I have questions.”
“Nothing new there.”
Orilana looked down at her hands. She was picking at her thumbnail, imagining how it would feel if it were a claw.
“There’s no way to change you back, is there?” said Orilana softly.
“I wouldn’t want it if there was.”
Orilana shook her head. “That’s a manifestation of your affliction.”
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” Farryn laughed. “The twisted soul or the twisted flesh.” The bony demon shrugged against the chains binding her to a pole in the center of her cell. “Same paradox.”
“Maloth says you were always this way?”
Farryn’s smile spread, showing her sharpened teeth. It kept going until it revealed her entire huge mouth. Orilana looked away. “We all are,” said Farryn.
“I don’t believe that.”
Orilana thought of Iriel. She hadn’t always been a monster. Even when Orilana saw her last. When they had … kissed. Iriel wasn’t a monster then, not completely. The beastly flesh her friend was trapped in didn’t match the demon haunting Orilana’s dreams. Maybe she wasn’t done transforming. Which means it can’t all reflect who she always was.
“The piercings,” said Orilana, looking back up at Farryn. “They control you?”
“They open our minds.”
Orilana arched an eyebrow. “Now you’re talking?”
Farryn ran her tongue over her teeth. “It’s just us monsters here.”
“I’m not a —”
“She’s got plans for you, you know?”
Orilana’s chest tightened. “Iriel? Or …”
Farryn laughed. “There is no Iriel.”
“The High Priestess,” clarified Orilana. Maybe Iriel was using a different name now. Maybe she was as corrupted as Farryn, but her best friend had to be under there somewhere. She had to be. “She has plans for me?”
“Oh yes. Talks about you all the time.”
Orilana stepped closer. “What does she say?”
“You know she wants you, don’t you?” Farryn chuckled to herself. “Fool says she loves you.”
Orilana gasped. Iriel had said it before, and she said it back, but she assumed it was a trap. She ran from Iriel because she felt the walls closing in around her. It had to be a trap. Maloth was a seducer, and she had taught Iriel her ways. What better way to lower Orilana’s defenses and lure her under Maloth’s sway? Iriel had offered her something Orilana ached for but never named.
“She says it still?” whispered Orilana, stepping closer.
“Not to just anyone, but I’ve been helping her with her little projects. Sometimes she mutters it in her sleep.”
“Projects? The piercings. You helped make the piercings, didn’t you? You were always an exquisite artificer.”
“Still am.”
“What do they do?” Orilana stepped closer. She was inches from the bars of Farryn’s cell. “What are they?”
“Made from Maloth’s bones. Did you know that?”
Orilana nodded. “We knew it was bone, but … no.” She shook her head. “We didn’t know.”
“They power a little spell to make someone more compliant.” Farryn chuckled. “But the newer models will make someone horny and desperate and docile and eager to have all their friends get piercings too.” The beast smiled wide again, revealing her whole mouth. “They’ll be piercing each other in the end. Like a goddamn plague.”
“And … Iriel. Is she —”
“There is no Iriel.”
“The High Priestess. Is she pierced as well?”
Orilana’s lips parted, and she closed her eyes. She imagined the ringed piercings of white bones with glowing purple runes adorning her best friend’s breasts. She forced herself to see them on copper skin and pink nipples rather than the lavender and dark purple that Iriel undoubtedly had now. She wanted to see Iriel as she used to be, even if it was naked and pierced.
No. Orilana opened her eyes. Not naked. Not anything like that.
“Not pierced,” said Farryn. “She doesn’t need it.”
“She isn’t … she’s not forced?”
Farryn laughed. “She invited it.”
“Was she tricked? Seduced?”
But Farryn didn’t answer. The bony demon just laughed and laughed. If she weren’t chained to a pole, Orilana could imagine the demon falling to her side and holding her stomach as laughter shook her to her core.
“Tell me!” said Orilana. She stepped forward and wrapped her hands around the bars of Farryn’s cell.
Farryn lifted her cold and lifeless eyes to Orilana as she calmed down. “Not every woman is a victim here.” She spoke softly, and Orilana was unnerved by the strange gentleness.
“What?”
“Sure, some are. Some are perfect angels. We pierce them, drown them in the pools, and they’re reborn. But some of us have been waiting our whole lives to be free of these shackles.” She shrugged against the chains holding her to the pole and laughed at her own joke.
“Are you —”
“Ask Fella and Mola.” Farryn laughed again. “Or Melior as they are now. They were naughty girls before. Shameful what they did. But now they delight in it.”
“But Iriel —”
“Maybe she’s no different. Maybe she’s been longing to feel a woman’s lips over every inch of her body for a long time?” Farryn shrugged again, and her chains rattled. “Maybe it’s you she’s been imagining doing all that kissing.”
“Iriel?”
“You ever had your pussy licked?” Farryn said it simply, as though asking if Orilana had ever been to Tinue.
“What? No. I —”
“Can you imagine having a beautiful woman between your legs? Her soft and wet tongue gliding over you? Setting each nerve in your body on fire?”
Orilana sighed and pressed against the bars. Her grip tightened to hold her up as her knees softened. Iriel in the pentagram. She hadn’t imagined it, but she dreamt it. It was real as a memory. Iriel licked her, and though Orilana writhed among the blood marking the ritual, she didn’t pull away.
“You hold her head in place and drive her deeper,” said Farryn.
That’s exactly what Orilana did in her dream.
“Her tongue slithers inside you.”
Yes.
“Reaching spots you didn’t know you had.”
“Yes,” whispered Orilana.
“Melting you in the most exquisite kind of death.”
“Yes.”
Around her, in the other prison cells, the charmed women were writhing against the bars of their cells and moaning. They made a symphony of their pleasure, and Orilana felt the heat of their hot breath on her neck. She turned to look at them and —
Farryn dashed out the chains she had broken long ago and grabbed Orilana’s hands through the bar, holding the captain in place while the other prisoners kept moaning.
“We’re not so different,” said Farryn.
Orilana tried to pull away, but Farryn’s sharp claws dug into her wrists. “Please,” whimpered Orilana.
“I’m not the one trapped,” said Farryn. Then she let go of Orilana’s hands and stepped back into her cell. She licked the blood from her fingertips and laughed as Orilana backed away.
The captain turned and left the prisons. She climbed the steps and opened the door. Harza stepped up first, asking what happened, but Orilana only turned to Serra and told her to make the demon talk. Harza asked about Orilana’s bleeding wrists, but the captain walked past them all. Her head was fuzzy and still burning.
I’m not the one trapped.
Orilana walked through the caves to the tiny room that was reserved for her at the back. Other paladins asked her if she was okay. Some asked her questions about their food stores or the timeline for the next attack. But Orilana ignored them all.
You ever had your pussy licked?
She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She didn’t bother to peel off her clothes or even get into her cot. She leaned against the door and slid her hands into her breeches, reaching between her legs. She was wet. Goddess, she was soaked. She should be ashamed to —
But she pushed through, sliding a finger over her clit while the others casually glided between the lips of her pussy. She closed her eyes and revisited the dream. She could feel Iriel’s hair in her hands. She tried to imagine her fingers were the High Priestess’s tongue. She wanted to feel Iriel deep inside of her. All the way. She didn’t care about the pentagram or the thin door separating her from her troops. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She wanted Iriel. Iriel. Iriel.
“Iriel,” she whispered.
A howl ripped through the caves as Serra began forcing Farryn to talk. But at the end of each shriek there was an upturn, as though the pain was a question. It may have confused the other paladins, but Orilana could hear it now. It was pleasure. It was the quick slip of a moan. Pain was heaven to Farryn. There was no way to force her to talk without power. None of them had enough to compel the demon.
But Farryn’s moans echoing throughout the caves only pushed Orilana further. Her knees softened and sagged as she played with herself faster. She tried to slide more fingers inside of herself and regretted not stripping. She couldn’t get the angle. She needed more. She needed it deeper. Iriel had a long tongue — a demon’s tongue. She could slide all the way inside Orilana. There was no place Iriel couldn’t reach, no crevice she couldn’t slip through and taste.
“Iriel,” moaned Orilana as she slid further down the door. There was more chaos and rumbling in the caves behind them, but Orilana didn’t care. She was so close. She needed to cum. Days and weeks. Even a lifetime of celibacy. She needed to break, to try it, to give herself permission. Maybe Farryn was right. Maybe some were always born different, born off. Maybe Iriel was that way, but maybe Orilana was too. Maybe they could be that together.
“Iriel,” moaned Orilana. She was close. She was —
“Captain!” There was a banging on the door behind Orilana.
“Just one minute,” said Orilana. She was breathless. They must be able to hear it in her voice — the lust and debauchery. They must know what she was doing in here. They knew she’s touching herself, that she’s giving herself over to —
“Captain!” The banging was harder and incessant. “It’s an emergency.”
Orilana whimpered as she pulled her hand free and adjusted her breeches. She looked for something to wipe her hands on but settled for her pants. She opened the door, and Harza was standing there with seven other paladins.
“What?” snarled Orilana.
Harza jumped at the tone of her captain. “There’s someone here to —”
“Iriel?” asked Orilana. She hated the softness in her voice, the obvious eagerness, but her heart leapt at the thought of —
“No,” said Harza. “Rella.”
“The acolyte?”
“Yes. It seems she’s escaped the other side and brought another prisoner.”
Orilana pushed through the crowd of paladins and stormed back through her camp. There was a crowd at the cave entrance, and the moaning from Farryn had stopped. The crowd parted for Orilana, and she walked with Harza to the entrance of the cave where several guards were talking to another woman.
Orilana recognized her immediately by her thick white veil that covered her head to toe, only revealing her captivating eyes. She was the one that had always been bothering Iriel. She was devout and almost fanatical. How did she escape?
But Orilana’s questions faded as she saw the prisoner beside the acolyte. She was in chains, with an iron mask latched over her face, especially her mouth. But the ghostly white hair and amused eyes left no doubt. Orilana’s old sergeant had arrived.
“Hello Prim,” Orilana said.

Embrace of the Goddess Part 9 [FF] [Mind Control] [Fantasy] [Corruption] [Dreams]

Chapter 9: Dreams & Prisons
Orilana
You walk through your mother’s garden. Each tulip and primrose are in bloom. The scent is thick in the air, like the summer heat of a muggy swamp. It wraps around you, caressing your skin, sliding up and down your back, your neck, your legs.
You walk for hours, lured be some strange yet familiar scent. It is sickly sweet, like an overripe strawberry. It’s the wrong season, and you go deeper and deeper into the garden, looking for it.
As you go, the walls of the garden crumble. There are vines and flowers. Animals roam. The flowers don’t lose their beauty for the savagery. The wildlife revel in your sight, in the sound of your steps in their wilderness, in the taste of your scent mingling with theirs.
You spot the source of the smell: a carpet of jasmine flowers that cover a ruined throne. The smell is right, but the rot is wrong. The flowers are in bloom. Your timing is perfect. You reach out and pluck one, then hiss from the sting of the thornless plant.
Blood swells on your fingertips. You bring them to your lips and suck, but it is not the iron you’ve known your whole life. It is the pungent and sticky scent that haunts the shattered garden. You pull the finger away, but the blood returns quickly. You suck at it again, and the same taste washes over you like lover’s hands. You sigh into it, but when you pull the finger away, it’s still bleeding.
So you keep feeding.
***
Orilana took another bath when she woke up. Water was in short supply in the corner of the Abbey where the paladins were hiding, but she couldn’t lead her people drenched in sweat and reeking of lust. There was a rebellion to put down — an incursion by the worst foe of their goddess — and she could barely keep her mind focused on the task at hand.
This would have been a lot easier if Iriel had never kissed her. Fighting Maloth was going to be hard enough, but trying to fight off her best friend crushed her. Add the kiss and —
“Captain?” asked Harza.
“Hm?” Orilana looked at the small council of paladins that she was meeting with. They all stared at her. Two of them were covered in dirt and gore from a night of patrolling and fighting off demons and nymphs.
“We’re running out of cells for the … afflicted,” said Harza. The half-orc sergeant’s bravery and reliability made her an easy choice for second-in-command. She was lithe and muscular, with the sides of her hair shaved, and the hair on top spiky and dark when it wasn’t matted down by a helmet or sweat. Her dark green skin and tusks made her the target of rumors and speculation from other paladins — Orcs were often a wild and dangerous foe — but there was none gentler in the Abbey than Harza.
“Ah, right. How many from last night’s raid?”
“We just said —”
“I know,” sighed Orilana. “I apologize. I’m not getting much sleep.”
Eyes darted around the room at each other. That could be interpreted several ways, but the conclusion was the same: maybe Orilana wasn’t fit to lead them.
“Three,” said one of the elven paladins.
Orilana shook her head. “Pierced, charmed, or worse?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “We cut down anyone beyond ch—”
“That’s enough,” said Harza softly. “Just answer the Captain’s question.”
“Three charmed,” said the elf with a bite. “Two were put down.”
Orilana ran her hands through her hair. On one hand, Maloth didn’t want to kill any of the paladins. She seduced and corrupted them, but the demon goddess was never the one doing the ripping and slaying. The paladins had to cut down their own sisters that were pierced or forced into the pools. Anyone simply charmed was forced to sit in a cell until they detoxed or the charm could be dispelled.
But they were running out of cells in this shabby cave.
“We can’t keep this up forever,” said a human woman still wrapped in bandages. Kivyet had ripped the piercings out of her nipples before their power took effect. She was still recovering but refused to abandon her role as guard or councilor.
“I know,” said Orilana.
“No,” said Harza softly. “We don’t mean a few more weeks or months. We may be talking days before we’re too small to defend this place.”
“Exactly,” said Kivyet.
“But we have the Staff of Eclipse,” said Orilana.
“And have you any breakthroughs in using it?” asked a pale half-elf with bright red hair.
“No,” said Orilana. She had been forced to stay with the Staff of Eclipse night after night, trying to make sense of its power. Perhaps it could cure those afflicted. It may even save Iriel. But paladins were trained in the combat magic and only the most basic of healing and casting. They weren’t skilled enough to do much with it.
“If you can’t maintain the stamina to defeat a stronger opponent, what do you do?” Serra, an Aasimar that was usually silent during these meetings, said.
“Run,” said Orilana.
“And when you can’t?” The angelic woman turned her pale white eyes on her. Serra had always been more angel than woman. It made most of the paladins distrust her, though Orilana thought it should always have done the opposite.
“End it quick, probably at a high cost.”
“How can we end it?” asked Kivyet. “We’re outnumbered.”
“We need information,” said the elven woman.
“I agree,” said Harza. “We need to know what Iriel wants and what she can or can’t do.”
Orilana nodded. “If Maloth had really returned, she could have blasted us out of this cave.”
“So she must need something.”
“The staff,” said Serra.
“For what?”
“That,” said Serra as she stood. “Is what we need to find out.”
The few paladins with a mind for the intricacies of magic had looked at the piercings they’d taken from a few women. They didn’t know how they worked beyond controlling those that were pierced. The paladins were cut off from the library and anything else more reliable. They were fighting blind.
“Send a team,” said Orilana. “A stealth operation.”
“Who wants to go?”
They all raised their hands.
“Kivyet, you’re hurt,” said Orilana.
“I don’t plan to do much fighting,” said the woman. “Besides, I don’t need nipples to sneak.”
The half-elf woman flinched at the thought of having damaged nipples. Some said Kivyet had none, but that wasn’t true.
“I need some here to help me watch over this.”
“I’ll stay,” said Harza. “But I’m willing to go if that will be better.”
“You stay,” said Orilana. “The rest?” she looked at the wounded and tired women and the impassive and almost immortal eyes of Serra. “Rest up. Gather whatever you need. You get the best. If we’re not going to last long, there’s no point in saving it for a rainy day. This is it.”
The women nodded in agreement. “Agreed,” said Serra. They all stood up, feeling the ending of the meeting.
“Dismissed,” said Orilana.
***
You run through the smoke of the burning building. From deep inside, you hear the cries of a woman, panicked and afraid. You call out to her and calm her. But the smoke drowns out your voice. It drowns out vision and smell. Your body awakens and burns. It lusts for oxygen, but only drinks in smoke upon smoke.
The walls crumble around you, and the way is shut behind you. You follow the voice, the only hope of life in this abandoned place. It’s high and desperate. It’s almost a shriek. You want to tell her to conserve air.
You find her in the bedroom, but the woman there is charred to a husk. There is a silhouette of shadow and smoke lying beside her. The shadow’s legs are spread, and one hand is between them. The shrieking comes from the smoke, and now it sounds like moaning.
Behind you, the building collapses until there is nothing but this room and the smoke. The ash of the corpse flutters away. There is only the smoke and the flame. There is only the heat and the moans. There is only the fire. There is only the smoke as it floats towards you and presses against you.
When the moans wrap around you, you don’t know where they come from anymore.
***
“I’m not convinced it’s wrong,” said Harza over breakfast.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Still not getting sleep?”
Orilana rubbed her eyes. “No.”
“Maybe you should take less baths.”
The Captain lifted her head to stare down the half-orc. Harza looked appropriately ashamed and turned away. “Guess not,” she muttered.
“The cold baths keep me awake,” said Orilana. “That’s how —”
“You don’t need to explain it to me,” said Harza. “I apologize, Captain. I overstepped.”
Orilana finished the last of her dried apple. Her stomach grumbled for more, but that wasn’t going to happen. She refused to lose because they were starved out. She’d conserve, for now.
“Do you have siblings, Sergeant?”
Harza shook her head. “Just a tribe, but I don’t — for obvious reasons, I don’t —”
“I understand.” Orilana knew that Harza came from a brutal people. They had asked her to butcher some slaves to make a point. She couldn’t do it. They claimed it was her human side and sent her away. Even during her interview to join the Abbey, getting her to talk about it was like pulling her tusks.
“I have six sisters,” said Orilana. “And the more time we spend cramped in this tiny cave, the more I’m starting to feel like a girl in my mother’s house.”
“How so?”
“Too many eyes. Too much pressure. Too much …” Orilana waved her hands as she struggled to find the word.
“No privacy,” said Harza.
“Yeah.”
“It was the same in the tribe, though some of the things fancy elves want privacy for are a bit silly to Orcs.”
“Such as?”
“Well no Orc blinks when they hear rutting from the tent nearby, but I imagine it’d be the scandal of the Abbey.”
“Oh,” Orilana blushed and looked away.
“Though that’d be debauchery here, I guess,” said Harza.
“Not exactly.”
“But I thought with our battle against Maloth and —”
“Azora isn’t against love making between consensual adults. What Maloth is suggesting is different.”
“What about two women?” asked Harza.
“I don’t think Azora frowns on that.”
“Then what are we —”
“Maloth is a predatory creature,” said Orilana. “Azora is a goddess of love and respect. Nothing that happens between the worshippers of Maloth is built on that. They celebrate lust and hunger and carnality and taking. They have perverted Azora’s gifts.”
“Among the Orcs, I have seen some horrible things that I know Azora would condemn. I have also seen beautiful things that I think Azora would condemn.”
Orilana sighed. “I wish I could leave theology to the theologians.”
Harza smirked. It twisted the pale silver scar on one cheek. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m not fighting Maloth’s theology. Nor am I proselytizing for Azora. I’ll leave that for the clerics if we can save them.”
“But what about —”
“We’re fighting Maloth. A demon goddess. She possesses people and takes them against their will. She hurts them for fun, for pleasure. She turns them into monsters. I don’t care who’s right and who’s wrong when it comes to sex. Maloth is wrongness herself.”
Harza shrugs. “Makes sense to me.”
They fell into a silence, but the questions still lingered with Orilana. If she weren’t a member of the Abbey, if she weren’t a paladin, would she want to have these experiences with other people? Other women? It seemed strange to think that her role as a paladin — that being in service to Azora — would disqualify her from ever making love. Though it was technically her vow, why would Azora keep her servants from the thing she blessed and encouraged among her followers? Azora was a goddess of love. Why shouldn’t Orilana be allowed to make love to a man or a woman if she wanted?
Who was she kidding? She was thinking about Iriel.
Slaying Maloth was an obvious good. It was Iriel that muddled the water. Her friend was listening to darkness incarnate.
Not her friend, not quite. Iriel had — no.
It didn’t matter. Perhaps the information her team gathered could tell her what Maloth wanted. But maybe — if they were lucky — it could tell her how to reverse the change. It wasn’t just for Iriel’s sake. Or at least, it wasn’t entirely for Iriel’s sake. If Orilana could undo the hurt Maloth had done to her sisterhood and the Abbey, then they could start to rebuild. As it stood, there was no perfect fix for this. Even if they won, the Abbey would be crippled for generations. They would battle and sweat only to be crippled at the end. Sometimes Orilana wondered if it would be better to give in, to run into the burning building instead of away from —
“What’s that?” Harza jerked her head around and several other paladins stood up. There was some commotion from the entrance to the cave. Orilana stood up and moved to the front of the crowd gathering. There she saw the team she’d sent down into the Abbey. Kivyet and Serra were dragging a lanky and bony demon with brown skin down to the prisons they had. The crowd parted for Orilana, and the captain followed her two paladins down to the side cavern where they kept prisoners.
“Where are —”
“Didn’t make it,” said Harza from behind her.
Orilana stifle the urge to curse.
The demon howled and lunged to one side, pushing Kivyet away from her and freeing one arm. But Serra grabbed the free wrist like a viper. Her hands glowed white, and the demon’s skin crackled and peeled away as the stench of burning flesh and rotten meat filled the passageway. The demon shrieked and bucked, but Serra was unyielding. Smoke rose from the skin, and eventually the demon sagged and gave up.
“What is it?” asked Harza.
Kivyet turned and looked at her.
“You mean you don’t recognize Farryn?”
Orilana gasped. Farryn, the red-haired wonder and apprentice to Fella. She had been one of the greatest minds of the Abbey, and one of the most promising wielders of magic. Now she was nothing more than tight skin and bones that stuck out and looked like armor over a wraith. Her once beautiful and fiery hair was now wiry and dull. She had long claws and — no. She was nothing like Farryn. There was nothing of the former acolyte left in that body.
“Lock her up,” said Orilana. “Our best guards if we have to.”
“I’ll watch her,” said Serra. “I don’t have to sleep as much as —”
“You should sleep,” said Harza. “You don’t want to —”
“I’ll watch her.” Serra’s voice was cold and hollow. “For the sake of my two sisters, I’ll find the strength.”
The rest of the paladins were silent as Serra and Kivyet took Farryn to a cell. The two women looked battered and weary. Orilana dreaded the report they would give her. Every time she tried to imagine what Maloth would do to one of her paladins, the dark goddess did something worse.
“I can’t believe that’s Farryn,” whispered Harza next to Orilana.
“Neither can I. But there’s one bit of good news.”
“What’s that?”
“She’ll have answers for us.”
***
You wander through a maze of mirrors. You’re reflected in a dozen lights and shapes. The sight of your pale ashen skin and dark hair anchor you. The lines of your muscles remind you that you can smash your way out. You’re not trapped here.
And yet you keep walking.
As you go, the reflections twist into nightmares. You see yourself at a thousand wicked angles. You are a succubus with wings and a flaming whip. You are a pale shadow with fangs glistening red. You are hoofed and clawed. You are horned and dark. You are pale and twisted. You are tall and bony. You are curvy and seductive. You are large and muscular. You are hunched and crooked. You are beautiful and horrible. You are everything you feared.
And yet you keep walking.
The maze leads to a dark chamber lit by torches on the wall. In the center is a pentagram drawn on onyx stone in red salt or chalk or blood. It stains the floor and captures the light of it. Laying in the center, naked and waiting for you, is a demon. Her hair is black and cascades down her back. She has horns, claws, hooves, and a tail flicking. Her skin is a pale lavender, and smoke billows out of her like breath in the cold. Her eyes are solid black and glitter like obsidian.
She smiles and purrs at the sight of you.
One clawed hand reaches down and begins to idly tease the demon’s pussy. She moans, and you burn with lust and shame. It is then that you remember your nudity. In each reflection of the twisted halls, you were bare. You are bare. There is no armor to defend yourself, no sword to cut the demon down. There is no hiding.
The demon whispers your name, and with her free hand beckons you to come closer. You recognize her voice though her body is twisted: Iriel. She’s inviting you into the pentagram, to join her dark ritual. The hand at her pussy moves faster, and she moans your name this time. You want to flee, to strike, to lash out.
And yet you keep walking.
Walking towards your lover.
***
Farryn’s cackling filled the prisons. No matter what they did to her, there was no breaking the demon. They were running out of time. Two days of interrogating, and the demon only mocked them. Some of the paladins reported Farryn appearing in their nightmares. Some said they couldn’t sleep through the sound of her high pitched and cruel laughter.
No matter how much time Orilana spent with Farryn, she could never get over the demon’s body. The twisted lines and cruel protrusions. It looked as though it hurt for the creature to move, to breathe, to be. And yet there was a terrible feline grace to each of Farryn’s movements. The power in the beast was undeniable. It seemed to enjoy what it had become. Orilana wondered if Iriel felt the same.
Somebody said something.
The captain flexed her hands and looked down at her fingers. They were calloused and scarred from hundreds of fights. She kept her nails short, but they were perpetually dirty with sweat and dirt. They weren’t what she thought of as feminine, but at least they weren’t the crooked claws of Farryn.
Or the crooked claws of Iriel.
Iriel.
Orilana had assumed her best friend was in agony as she was transformed into a monstrosity. But perhaps that’s not it. Perhaps she’s loving it as much as Farryn. Perhaps she’s powerful and feels complete. What would it be like to trade fingertips for claws? What kind of lover could Iriel make with claws? Would it be pleasure or pain? Could it be both?
“Captain,” snapped Harza.
“Huh?” Orilana looked up. Harza and Serra were both looking at her. On the ground, in chains, Farryn was laughing at the captain.
“What do you think?” said the half-orc. Harza was haggard and worn out. Even Serra had lost her luster and intimidating presence over the last two days.
“About?”
Serra sighed. “She’s not getting sleep,” said Harza to the half-angel. “It’s okay.”
“None of us are getting sleep,” said Serra. “If she can’t focus, she should go get some sleep.”
Sleep. Where more dreams would haunt Orilana. “No,” said the captain quickly. “I’m fine. Just catch me up. I apologize.”
“I’ve asked permission to … encourage it to talk,” said Serra. Her hands glowed white.
“Torture?”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Harza. “We’re better than that. We don’t need to —”
“This is a war,” snapped Serra. “We don’t have time to —”
“If we sink to their level, then we’re no better than —”
“It’s a demon. Why on earth are you protecting a demon that —”
“She’s our sister. Perhaps there’s a way to change her back and —”
“Enough!” roared Orilana. She stood up, and her two sergeants looked at her. Her head throbbed with pain. Orilana turned to Farryn and approached the demon. It smiled wide, revealing teeth that were sharpened to points. “Is there a way to turn you back?”
Farryn laughed at them.
Serra sighed. “This is what I’m talking —”
“No!” snapped Orilana. “Leave me alone with her.”
“Captain?” asked Harza. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Double or triple the guard at the door. I don’t care. If she escapes, cut her down.”
Serra stepped up to Orilana’s side. “Captain, I can —”
“No,” said Orilana. “I’ll do this.” She turned and looked at her two sergeants. They looked at her like she was crazy. Perhaps she was. Perhaps the sleep deprivation was getting to them all.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t,” said Farryn. Her voice was grating and cruel. She clearly delighted in their fear and uncertainty.
Serra grabbed for her blade. “Captain, let me —”
“Go,” said Orilana softly.
Harza and Serra gave each other one last nervous glance and towards the door of the prisons. Around them, other women that were still afflicted with charms moaned and whimpered at the sight of flesh. Most of them thrust against the bars of their prisons in erotic despair. The paladins did their best to ignore them.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” asked Farryn.
“I have questions.”
“Nothing new there.”
Orilana looked down at her hands. She was picking at her thumbnail, imagining how it would feel if it were a claw.
“There’s no way to change you back, is there?” said Orilana softly.
“I wouldn’t want it if there was.”
Orilana shook her head. “That’s a manifestation of your affliction.”
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” Farryn laughed. “The twisted soul or the twisted flesh.” The bony demon shrugged against the chains binding her to a pole in the center of her cell. “Same paradox.”
“Maloth says you were always this way?”
Farryn’s smile spread, showing her sharpened teeth. It kept going until it revealed her entire huge mouth. Orilana looked away. “We all are,” said Farryn.
“I don’t believe that.”
Orilana thought of Iriel. She hadn’t always been a monster. Even when Orilana saw her last. When they had … kissed. Iriel wasn’t a monster then, not completely. The beastly flesh her friend was trapped in didn’t match the demon haunting Orilana’s dreams. Maybe she wasn’t done transforming. Which means it can’t all reflect who she always was.
“The piercings,” said Orilana, looking back up at Farryn. “They control you?”
“They open our minds.”
Orilana arched an eyebrow. “Now you’re talking?”
Farryn ran her tongue over her teeth. “It’s just us monsters here.”
“I’m not a —”
“She’s got plans for you, you know?”
Orilana’s chest tightened. “Iriel? Or …”
Farryn laughed. “There is no Iriel.”
“The High Priestess,” clarified Orilana. Maybe Iriel was using a different name now. Maybe she was as corrupted as Farryn, but her best friend had to be under there somewhere. She had to be. “She has plans for me?”
“Oh yes. Talks about you all the time.”
Orilana stepped closer. “What does she say?”
“You know she wants you, don’t you?” Farryn chuckled to herself. “Fool says she loves you.”
Orilana gasped. Iriel had said it before, and she said it back, but she assumed it was a trap. She ran from Iriel because she felt the walls closing in around her. It had to be a trap. Maloth was a seducer, and she had taught Iriel her ways. What better way to lower Orilana’s defenses and lure her under Maloth’s sway? Iriel had offered her something Orilana ached for but never named.
“She says it still?” whispered Orilana, stepping closer.
“Not to just anyone, but I’ve been helping her with her little projects. Sometimes she mutters it in her sleep.”
“Projects? The piercings. You helped make the piercings, didn’t you? You were always an exquisite artificer.”
“Still am.”
“What do they do?” Orilana stepped closer. She was inches from the bars of Farryn’s cell. “What are they?”
“Made from Maloth’s bones. Did you know that?”
Orilana nodded. “We knew it was bone, but … no.” She shook her head. “We didn’t know.”
“They power a little spell to make someone more compliant.” Farryn chuckled. “But the newer models will make someone horny and desperate and docile and eager to have all their friends get piercings too.” The beast smiled wide again, revealing her whole mouth. “They’ll be piercing each other in the end. Like a goddamn plague.”
“And … Iriel. Is she —”
“There is no Iriel.”
“The High Priestess. Is she pierced as well?”
Orilana’s lips parted, and she closed her eyes. She imagined the ringed piercings of white bones with glowing purple runes adorning her best friend’s breasts. She forced herself to see them on copper skin and pink nipples rather than the lavender and dark purple that Iriel undoubtedly had now. She wanted to see Iriel as she used to be, even if it was naked and pierced.
No. Orilana opened her eyes. Not naked. Not anything like that.
“Not pierced,” said Farryn. “She doesn’t need it.”
“She isn’t … she’s not forced?”
Farryn laughed. “She invited it.”
“Was she tricked? Seduced?”
But Farryn didn’t answer. The bony demon just laughed and laughed. If she weren’t chained to a pole, Orilana could imagine the demon falling to her side and holding her stomach as laughter shook her to her core.
“Tell me!” said Orilana. She stepped forward and wrapped her hands around the bars of Farryn’s cell.
Farryn lifted her cold and lifeless eyes to Orilana as she calmed down. “Not every woman is a victim here.” She spoke softly, and Orilana was unnerved by the strange gentleness.
“What?”
“Sure, some are. Some are perfect angels. We pierce them, drown them in the pools, and they’re reborn. But some of us have been waiting our whole lives to be free of these shackles.” She shrugged against the chains holding her to the pole and laughed at her own joke.
“Are you —”
“Ask Fella and Mola.” Farryn laughed again. “Or Melior as they are now. They were naughty girls before. Shameful what they did. But now they delight in it.”
“But Iriel —”
“Maybe she’s no different. Maybe she’s been longing to feel a woman’s lips over every inch of her body for a long time?” Farryn shrugged again, and her chains rattled. “Maybe it’s you she’s been imagining doing all that kissing.”
“Iriel?”
“You ever had your pussy licked?” Farryn said it simply, as though asking if Orilana had ever been to Tinue.
“What? No. I —”
“Can you imagine having a beautiful woman between your legs? Her soft and wet tongue gliding over you? Setting each nerve in your body on fire?”
Orilana sighed and pressed against the bars. Her grip tightened to hold her up as her knees softened. Iriel in the pentagram. She hadn’t imagined it, but she dreamt it. It was real as a memory. Iriel licked her, and though Orilana writhed among the blood marking the ritual, she didn’t pull away.
“You hold her head in place and drive her deeper,” said Farryn.
That’s exactly what Orilana did in her dream.
“Her tongue slithers inside you.”
Yes.
“Reaching spots you didn’t know you had.”
“Yes,” whispered Orilana.
“Melting you in the most exquisite kind of death.”
“Yes.”
Around her, in the other prison cells, the charmed women were writhing against the bars of their cells and moaning. They made a symphony of their pleasure, and Orilana felt the heat of their hot breath on her neck. She turned to look at them and —
Farryn dashed out the chains she had broken long ago and grabbed Orilana’s hands through the bar, holding the captain in place while the other prisoners kept moaning.
“We’re not so different,” said Farryn.
Orilana tried to pull away, but Farryn’s sharp claws dug into her wrists. “Please,” whimpered Orilana.
“I’m not the one trapped,” said Farryn. Then she let go of Orilana’s hands and stepped back into her cell. She licked the blood from her fingertips and laughed as Orilana backed away.
The captain turned and left the prisons. She climbed the steps and opened the door. Harza stepped up first, asking what happened, but Orilana only turned to Serra and told her to make the demon talk. Harza asked about Orilana’s bleeding wrists, but the captain walked past them all. Her head was fuzzy and still burning.
I’m not the one trapped.
Orilana walked through the caves to the tiny room that was reserved for her at the back. Other paladins asked her if she was okay. Some asked her questions about their food stores or the timeline for the next attack. But Orilana ignored them all.
You ever had your pussy licked?
She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She didn’t bother to peel off her clothes or even get into her cot. She leaned against the door and slid her hands into her breeches, reaching between her legs. She was wet. Goddess, she was soaked. She should be ashamed to —
But she pushed through, sliding a finger over her clit while the others casually glided between the lips of her pussy. She closed her eyes and revisited the dream. She could feel Iriel’s hair in her hands. She tried to imagine her fingers were the High Priestess’s tongue. She wanted to feel Iriel deep inside of her. All the way. She didn’t care about the pentagram or the thin door separating her from her troops. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She wanted Iriel. Iriel. Iriel.
“Iriel,” she whispered.
A howl ripped through the caves as Serra began forcing Farryn to talk. But at the end of each shriek there was an upturn, as though the pain was a question. It may have confused the other paladins, but Orilana could hear it now. It was pleasure. It was the quick slip of a moan. Pain was heaven to Farryn. There was no way to force her to talk without power. None of them had enough to compel the demon.
But Farryn’s moans echoing throughout the caves only pushed Orilana further. Her knees softened and sagged as she played with herself faster. She tried to slide more fingers inside of herself and regretted not stripping. She couldn’t get the angle. She needed more. She needed it deeper. Iriel had a long tongue — a demon’s tongue. She could slide all the way inside Orilana. There was no place Iriel couldn’t reach, no crevice she couldn’t slip through and taste.
“Iriel,” moaned Orilana as she slid further down the door. There was more chaos and rumbling in the caves behind them, but Orilana didn’t care. She was so close. She needed to cum. Days and weeks. Even a lifetime of celibacy. She needed to break, to try it, to give herself permission. Maybe Farryn was right. Maybe some were always born different, born off. Maybe Iriel was that way, but maybe Orilana was too. Maybe they could be that together.
“Iriel,” moaned Orilana. She was close. She was —
“Captain!” There was a banging on the door behind Orilana.
“Just one minute,” said Orilana. She was breathless. They must be able to hear it in her voice — the lust and debauchery. They must know what she was doing in here. They knew she’s touching herself, that she’s giving herself over to —
“Captain!” The banging was harder and incessant. “It’s an emergency.”
Orilana whimpered as she pulled her hand free and adjusted her breeches. She looked for something to wipe her hands on but settled for her pants. She opened the door, and Harza was standing there with seven other paladins.
“What?” snarled Orilana.
Harza jumped at the tone of her captain. “There’s someone here to —”
“Iriel?” asked Orilana. She hated the softness in her voice, the obvious eagerness, but her heart leapt at the thought of —
“No,” said Harza. “Rella.”
“The acolyte?”
“Yes. It seems she’s escaped the other side and brought another prisoner.”
Orilana pushed through the crowd of paladins and stormed back through her camp. There was a crowd at the cave entrance, and the moaning from Farryn had stopped. The crowd parted for Orilana, and she walked with Harza to the entrance of the cave where several guards were talking to another woman.
Orilana recognized her immediately by her thick white veil that covered her head to toe, only revealing her captivating eyes. She was the one that had always been bothering Iriel. She was devout and almost fanatical. How did she escape?
But Orilana’s questions faded as she saw the prisoner beside the acolyte. She was in chains, with an iron mask latched over her face, especially her mouth. But the ghostly white hair and amused eyes left no doubt. Orilana’s old sergeant had arrived.
“Hello Prim,” Orilana said.

Embrace of the Goddess Chapter 8 [FF] [Fantasy] [Mind Control] [Corruption]

Chapter 8: Rella & The High Priestess

Iriel

Iriel managed to dismiss Zara and the other naiads from her chamber without a snarl. Barely. She raised a hand and pinched her fingers, pulling away from her body like she caught a stray hair. As she pulled, the sweat crept off her body, following the motion of her fingers. She flung the sweat against the wall and stepped into her bath chamber.

The mirror was still covered.

Iriel grabbed a brush and straightened out her hair. She sighed as she smoothed out the first knot. She didn’t mind the pain. Pain was purifying. Over and over, she pulled at the thick and wavy black hair she’d been cursed with by Maloth and smoothed it out. It was annoying to do it without a mirror, but that just meant she had to double and triple check each spot. It meant more brush strokes which meant less time having to do anything else, like sitting at that stupid desk. Read more »

Embrace of the Goddess Part 7 [FF] [Mind Control] [BDSM] [Corruption] [Modesty] [Fantasy]

Chapter 7: Rella & The Demon

Rella

Dust flew through air as the stack of books in Rella’s arms tumbled over the desk.

“Goodness,” whispered the young woman. She looked around the private study room in the library but didn’t spot any of the dryads that roamed around to help people. She pulled her veil aside and carefully coughed into her fist before putting the veil back in place. Then she quickly went about picking up and re-stacking the four thick tomes she brought with her: Maloth and Azora, The Twin’s War, The Age of Darkness, and In Defense of Chastity. She had been through these books before, but her research was coming up short. She didn’t want to disappoint Iriel and admit that no one had done much work in recording the workings or worship of Maloth. Neither did she want to admit the other possibility: that someone had destroyed all those books.

“Are you alright?” sang a voice from behind her.

Rella spun and caught sight of one of Iriel’s liberated dryads. She was conscientious of keeping her eyes up, looking straight into the nymph’s eyes. Her skin was a pale and sickly green — especially in contrast with her shining verdant eyes — and her hair was a lush and wavy red. Read more »