by Reed James
The farmer rolled onto his face and clawed at the ground, ripping up clumps of grass as he continued his fruitless fight. I merely observed him. Nothing stirred inside of me as I watched the farmer struggle for his life.
Should I feel pity for the man?
Should I cheer for my master to win?
It really did not matter. I was created to serve. If my master failed, I would return to the Collegiate Tower and serve another mage.
Footsteps approached. A woman walked down the trail. “Alleth?”
The woman was a plump Thosian, her hair falling loose about the shoulders of her nightgown. Her feet were bare as she walked closer, peering into the darkness as the man, presumably Alleth and her husband, wrestled with my master's soul.
I sighed. There were always complications.
I rose and walked to the woman.
“Who's that?” she demanded, her voice cracking. A tremble ran through her.
What would it be like to be afraid?
The woman licked her lips and took a step back until she realized I was female. “What is going on? Who are you? Where are your clothes?” She peered over my shoulder at the writhing farmer. “Is that Alleth?”
“Yes,” I answered as I moved within arms length of her.
“Is he—”
I sprang. My hands seized her neck. She let out a strangled cry and grabbed my wrists. I tightened. The bones of her neck shifted beneath my fingers and her heartbeat pulsed through her veins. I applied the right amount of force at the precise spot and twisted.
Her neck broke.
She collapsed in a heap. She wasn't dead yet. Her eyes stared up at me. Her lungs and heart were paralyzed. If I had broken a vertebra lower, she would still live and only her limbs would be paralyzed. I left her to die and walked back to continue my vigil.
Chapter Five: Milky Exorcism
Xerathalasia – The Village of Etian, The Magery of Thosi
I was disappointed when I woke up the next morning and my cock was gone. My heat had ended. Well, I had enjoyed myself. My cock had experienced a great deal of pleasure. It had been a most satisfying few days.
Faoril slept beside me, her back facing me. She had stolen the covers during the night. They bunched around her body. I hadn't noticed. I was used to sleeping naked outdoors. Unlike humans, I did not need to wear clothing or have blankets unless the temperature plunged to extreme colds.
I could go naked in the snow.
“Faoril,” I said in the human's tongue as I rolled out of bed. “Wake up.”
The mage made a muttered sound that could have been a no.
I shook my head. I seized the blanket and yanked. Faoril gasped as it flipped her over and sent her landing hard on the floor. The mage groaned and popped her head over the edge. Her short, light-brown hair framed her angry face. Her normally inquisitive eyes were red from lack of sleep.
“Hey? What was that for?”
“Morning,” I answered.
“What?”
“Morning,” I said slower. “We have a journey. We cannot sleep in.”
“Right,” yawned Faoril. She rubbed at her eyes, then reached over and grabbed her silver nose piercing off the nightstand and inserted it into the hole on her right nostril. It glinted as she stretched.
What a strange affectation. Sophia had a pair of piercings—belly and tongue—that represented status within her order. Did Faoril's? Or was her piercing merely decoration.
Faoril grabbed her robe and concentrated. The stains of travel vanished from her clothing and she gave a self-satisfied nod. “I still had some of your cum lurking in my system.”
“Useful.” I grabbed my belt and strapped it about my slim waist. My quiver, knife, and pouch of supplies, such as my spare bow strings, hung from it. The belt was the only clothing I wore. I grabbed my unstrung bow and marched from the room and into the common area.
I ordered raw vegetables to break my fast.
Sophia and Angela looked equally bedraggled as Faoril when they plodded down the stairs. Angela's armor clanked. She sat at the table. Sophia slumped into her seat and put her head on her arms.
“I did not sleep,” she groaned. “The world still feels...off.”
“That is unusual,” Faoril announced. “I would have thought the fabric of reality would have settled by now.” She sat down at the last seat and pulled out the journal of the foul warlock Fireeyes.
“Are you really reading that?” Sophia groaned. “That man was foul. He desecrated those poor men he dominated.”
“Knowledge should always be digested,” Faoril answered. “As I explained, the moral injustice has already been performed. Now the more moral choice is to try to find practical and beneficial uses from his research. Then, perhaps, those he tortured and killed would not have died completely in vain.”
I didn't hide my shudder.
“Yeah, it seems wrong still,” Angela muttered.
Faoril looked at us, then sighed and slipped it away. “So we keep riding all day?”
Angela nodded.
Faoril sighed.
Sophia perked up. “Did Xera's massage help?”
A smile crossed Faoril's lips. “Yes, it did.”
Pride beat in my heart. I had made her cum hard after my sexy massage.
“Maybe I should receive one,” Sophia purred. “You could tie me up then massage away all my aches.”
Angela grinned. “I would love to watch it.”
“I will,” I promised Sophia, patting the young woman's hand. She was an infectious creature. She couldn't stay moody for long. Her playful desires always came to the forefront.
Sophia smiled as we chatted. Our breakfast was delivered: scrambled goose eggs and strips of fried pig, known as bacon, for the humans. I munched on my carrot and shook my head as they devoured animal flesh.
And eggs. Those were unhatched birds. Humans were such a confounding species. Kind and loving on one hand, and casually able to slaughter and eat another creature on the other. At least wolves do not have self-awareness. They relied on their instincts when they killed.
Sophia leaned back when she finished eating. “I hope this ripple goes away. It is so annoying.”
“What does it feel like?” Faoril asked, her eyes sharp.
“Like my skin is coated in foul oil.” Sophia sighed. “It clings to me. And more keeps lapping against me. Everything is turbulent. The barrier feels so thin.”
“Maybe it's a by-product of killing Fireeyes,” Angela suggested. “He was into all that death.”
“But this event happened many hours later.” Faoril pulled out her notebook and scrawled notes with a quill that required no ink. The words seemed burned into the paper. “So strange. Keep me informed throughout the day, Sophia.”
“I will,” the acolyte nodded. “Ooh, I wish I had time to take a bath.”
“No time,” sighed Angela. “We need to head down the road. We cannot tarry.”
~ * ~
Acolyte Sophia
We rode through Etian as the sun began its climb over the eastern horizon. I pulled up my hood to help shield my eyes as we rode to the northeast, following the highway to Allenoth. The turbulence between realities washed over me, coating me in fresh foulness.
I shivered as we passed the village's lichyard behind the temple to Firmare, the goddess of farming.
Eyes watched me. The spirits of the dead that lingered in their graves instead of passing on to their rest in the afterlife watched me. I worked my shoulders and glanced at the lichyard. The spirits sensed the turbulence. They wanted to cross over into our world.
The dead sometimes had trouble remembering they were dead. They could manifest in dozens of different ways, some harmful, some helpful, and some just mischievous. Who the spirit was in life influenced how they behaved in undeath.
I heeled Purity to a faster trot to come alongside Angela on her mighty warhorse Midnight.
“Someone's in a hurry,” my lover smiled. Her red hair burned like fire in the r
ising sun.
“Just...want to put distance between us and the lichyard.”
We rode north up the highway. Farmers worked the fields in between the villages that dotted the road. It seemed every hour we were passing through the next village. Wagons rumbled up and down the road, passing on our right.
Normally, the wagons and merchants bullied anyone off the road, but when they saw a knight riding at the head of a column, they moved aside for us.
The wagons were filled with goods and food. Large cities needed a constant supply of food brought in from the surrounding villages. When I was young, my mother had hired tutors to teach me about estate management. Mother owned many large estates back in Secare.
I always found it boring. It was probably why mother encouraged me to join the priesthood of Saphique and trained my younger sister instead. As a priestess, I was ineligible for inheritance. My sister would make a far better Duchess than me.
Every village had a lichyard, and the dead peering from their graves reminded me of the turbulence. Even though my robes were spotless—a quick prayer to Saphique every morning ensured they were pure white again—and my traveling cloak was freshened, I felt dipped in mud.
I hoped this would end. I couldn't stand this feeling for too long. It was depressing.
The dead pressed on the fabric. Normally, only the strongest or most tortured spirits could cross between realities. Thank the Gods those were rare. But they could cause such trouble when they did. I feared that the dead were already crossing over.
I grew more tense. I expected trouble.
“What is it?” Xera asked as noon approached.
I shook my head.
“You are tense.” The elf's eyes were too keen.
“Is it the turbulence?” Faoril asked.
I glanced back at her. She read from the evil warlock's journal again. I snapped, “How can you read and ride at the same time?”
“The horse knows where to go,” Faoril shrugged. “This is easier, though it made my stomach queasy at first. I wonder why.” The mage looked up. “And you did not answer my question.”
“Yes. Pater's cock, it's the turbulence.” My skin tightened. I wanted to rip it off. I just wanted this sensation to go away. “I can feel the dead in the lichyard. Some of their spirits are clawing at the fabric. It's so weak. There will be spirits manifesting.”
“That is serious,” Faoril sighed. “I am beginning to think this is not the action of a mage. Or if it was, then something went terribly wrong with their spell.”
“Can you do something to fix it?” I demanded.
“Without knowing what caused the source, I might exacerbate the problem. I have not heard of this effect, though mages do not have the sensitivity that the servants of the divine seem to possess.”
I ground my teeth.
“Something is going on in the village ahead,” reported Angela. “A crowd is forming.”
“Yes, I can hear the shouts,” Xera nodded. “I did not realize that was out of the normal. I thought, perhaps, it was a festival. They are crowding the streets.”
“There are no festivals right now,” Faoril frowned.
Angela nodded and heeled her charger forward. Midnight responded. The stallion snorted eagerly. His heavy hooves clapped on the hard-packed road. Xera's long strides allowed her to easily pace the stallion's trot. I glanced back at Faoril. She pulled out a vial of cum and held it in her hands.
“How do I make my horse go faster?” Faoril asked.
“Tap your heels into her flank,” I answered her. I heeled Purity and trotted forward.
“Oh, my,” Faoril gasped behind me.
I glanced back and almost forgot about the foul turbulence. The mage's face was pale, and she held her reigns in a tight grip, her knuckles whitening. Buttercup, Faoril's mare, trotted happily down the road, her straw tail swishing back and forth.
“Don't fall,” I admonished.
The village of Geresh looked like all the other villages we passed today—roofs made of thatch, walls whitewashed, clotheslines hanging with the morning wash. In the village square, the crowd gathered.
“They are frightened,” Xera observed.
I focused on the crowd. The men and women shifted. “Someone needs to do something,” a woman screeched. “My daughter has been possessed.”
Possessed. My hands tightened on my arms as I hugged myself. A spirit had crossed over into our world.
“And she's fucking my daughter,” another woman shouted. “You have to control her.”
“Where's the priestess?” a man roared. “This is a priestess's duty.”
“She went out to the Verian farm to assist in the calving,” someone answered.
Angela trotted forward her stallion. The ringing of Midnight's hooves on the cobblestone road of the village drew attention. Men and women gasped at the sight of her, and then a cheer went up.
“It's a knight.”
“She'll rescue my Seldyn,” a grateful woman cried out.
The brown-haired Thosians parted for us. In the center were two naked, eighteen-year-old women. One was on her hands and knees, her large tits, topped by rosy nipples, swaying back and forth and her pigtails gripped in the hands of the second girl. She knelt behind the kneeling girl, gripping the pigtails as she fucked the first girl with a black, spectral cock.
“That's it,” hissed the second girl. “You love my cock, whore.” Her voice was strange, almost like two voices speaking at the same time. Her words were slightly offset. “You love it.”
“Gods, yes,” moaned the first girl. “Fuck me, Seldyn. Oh, yes.”
What type of spirit was this?
“Sophia?” Angela asked as she dismounted. The knight glanced at me, her green eyes confused. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
“You can save my Seldyn from the spirit's possession, right?” an older woman sobbed as she fell to her knees before Angela.
“Yes,” the knight nodded. “Right, Sophia? How do we stop it?”
“I...” What is it? “I can exorcise the spirit.”
“It is a karabasan,” Faoril observed. “See the spectral, black cock. A male spirit has possessed her.”
“A male?” gasped the mother.
“Right.” My lessons returned to me. Karabasan were spirits of horny men, often who died as result of their appetites. When they broke over to our side of reality, they were like an incubus, finding a woman in her sleep and fucking her. When the woman came, the spirit would possess her body. She would sprout the spectral cock and be driven to keep fucking women. With every woman the spirit fucked, he would grow stronger and stronger, slowly transforming the girl into a man and consuming her soul.
Then the karabasan would live again and his host would have her spirit thrown into the Astral Realm.
“What is that?” Angela asked.
“Bad. We must stop it.”
“That's it, little slut,” hissed Seldyn. “Cum on my cock like the whore you are.”
The first girl shuddered and moaned.
“Every time she cums in a girl, she grows stronger,” I gasped. “Angela, Xera, you'll need to hold her down while I exorcise her. Faoril, I will need you to stimulate my body.”
“Stimulate?” Faoril asked. “you mean, play with your pussy.”
“Yes.”
Angela rushed forward, her armor clinking. The mail loincloth swayed between her legs. She grasped Seldyn's shoulders and hauled the possessed woman out of the first girl's pussy. The kneeling girl collapsed, shuddering in orgasm. Angela wrestled the struggling girl to the ground.
“No,” hissed Seldyn. “You bitch. That was my cunt. She belonged to me. I deserved to dump my cum in her.”
“Pater's cock,” growled Angela. “She's fighting me like a cat avoiding a bath.”
Xera appeared and seized Seldyn's legs, pinning them to the ground. The spectral cock, complete with a set of thick balls, thrust up from the girl's pussy. It was black and translucent, per
ched right over her clit.
“Cunts,” snarled Seldyn, the second voice growing stronger.
Angela seized the possessed girl's hands and pinned them above her head. She struggled to keep Seldyn's hands pinned, her conical breasts jiggling and the spectral cock waving. The poor thing. I shuddered that she had been afflicted with that cock.
“I will save you,” I told her, slipping off my cloak and draping it over Purity's saddle. I didn't like all the men around, but it was more important to free the girl then to worry about my modesty.
I unbelted my robe and slipped it off my petite body. I shuddered; the men all looked at me, hunger in their eyes. But I wasn't naked for them. I had sworn oaths to never let a man's cock into my pussy. I was a lesbian priestess of Saphique.
Faoril was right beside me as I marched up to the struggling girl. My nipples hardened and my pussy grew wet. I fell to my knees beside the struggling girl, taking a deep breath. I had never performed an exorcism.
I couldn't mess this up.
I took a deep breath as I pinched my nipple, summoning my milk. Faoril was right behind me, pressing into my body. Her hand shot down to my pussy, caressing my folds with her delicate fingers. Hot flutters of pleasure washed through me. Milk beaded my nipple, wetting my fingers.
“Saphique, anoint my breast milk with your blessed touch,” I prayed. “Let it drive away evil spirits and return them to their place of rest.”
My Goddess's blessing crashed through me. My breasts warmed as she enchanted my breast milk. “Okay, Seldyn,” I cooed, lowering my nipple. “Here, drink from this.”
“No,” hissed the spirit in control. The karabasan jerked Seldyn's head away.
I pinched my nipple and let a drop of my breast milk drip down to Seldyn's lips. The girl shuddered and writhed. Her body thrashed. The girl's eyes grew focused for a moment, the real her breaking through.
“Keep fingering me, Faoril,” I commanded as I leaned over and forced my nipple into Seldyn's lips. “Hold her head.”
Angela seized the possessed girl's head. I squeezed my breast, squirting my milk into her mouth. The girl thrashed. Her spectral cock wavered for a moment, almost vanishing, but then it reappeared almost fully real. Faoril probed at my pussy with her fingers, building my pleasure.
