No Demons But Us

by A. S. Etaski

  Without an army at one’s back—the reason the members of the House Barracks were banned from Court—there were only the periodic, successful poisonings or “accidents” which changed the status quo. Even when those happened, it did not mean that either the killer or the real hand behind the assassination received precisely what she wanted. There were always females tumbling and stumbling in the wake of the death of another, whether one could argue they should have seen it coming or not.

  The Nobles together at Court, all from different Houses, were like home but with far more variables. This was why the Davrin at the Court needed the Valsharess, the Red Sisters, and Braqth’s Priestesses. This was why we needed the glimpses of royal purple robes and blood-red uniforms. We required reminders of structure, of order and consequence. Otherwise, the escalation of petty hubris never paused.

  This was why I focused my energies on male conquests and bedroom antics for my first turns at Court. I could learn to plot and move at my own pace; I could enjoy myself and never worry about stuffing my gut with an unwanted child. And perhaps most importantly, no one died. Rarely was anyone even injured. I built my own reputation, such as it was, as a “safe” cait who didn’t lose her temper, who didn’t invite other females to humiliate a bua, who didn’t tend to brag to others about the details. I kept my mouth shut, most of my bragging held within the smirk on my lips.

  From this, I enjoyed popularity among the bored and curious sons wanting sensual indulgence with only mild social consequences for them or me. As a solitary, middle House representative with small actions and plots that mattered not at all in the long run, they soon learned I was there to play.

  None of the Top Five Houses got near me, male or not, and the rest sniffed and sputtered a bit as I slipped away with their Sons, but again, my relative discretion saw few elder females seeking more than a snide, public comment or an attempt to slip a purge potion into my dinner as her revenge. I could handle that.

  I always made sure these buas were sensually rewarded for their efforts, giving me a sign of their interest. I learned so much of the male form, of their physical limits and mental boundaries. Once naked, they were endlessly fascinating to manipulate. Even as I was not the only Noble female playing this way, this game did not see all that many children conceived and born as far as I could tell. Transactions and alliances of this nature were short-term goals, diversion, and excitement, and any disappointment when conception did not happen was brief and transient.

  I barely understood how fertility changed in buas and caits anyway, and I had none of my own to consider. For all I followed, it required a fertility potion to plan for it; otherwise, it seemed to happen at random. This was fine with me. I knew if it worked every time a cock seeded a slit, if many pregnancies occurred all at once, it would throw things out of balance down here. We needed a lot of slaves and Houses working to feed those in the Great Cavern as it was.

  This game of mine was pure entertainment, a type of theater that appealed to Davrin nature, and a chance to pretend to be somewhere else for a while. Some of us wanted to be because every cycle indeed was the same, broken only when we received another reminder from the Valsharess that She still held absolute power over us all.

  In addition to the numerous chances to seize and ride cock, I witnessed many more formal tortures, executions, and rituals than I ever had at House Thalluen. Not only me and the rest of the Court but many times, much of the common-bloods of Sivaraus bore witness as well. These events all had the intended effect: my fears and emotions were in a whorl at the grating sounds, at the scent and sight of blood, and the shock of such creative or magically-inflicted agony. I was afraid, but hiding it from everyone else, and I was fervently glad it wasn’t me on the platform or the altar.

  Once was more than enough. Let it never be so again.

  By my fifth anniversary residing at Court, I had built a stable of Noble sons I could tick off as knowing the shape of their cock and not once had I returned to see Mother or Kaltra. I had expected to continue in this vein when, upon waking one cycle, I was “selected” to participate in one of the few Priestess rituals that required a fair number of Nobles to complete.

  “Take this with you to the eve meal,” a messenger cait from the Sanctuary said at my suite doors, delivering a small, blushing vial sealed with wax and imprinted with Braqth’s Spider symbol. “Do not drink it until after you’ve eaten.”

  Uh-oh.

  I knew better than to display any reaction but that of thrilled elation, despite the shadow of wariness in my heart after I closed the door.

  “Fortunate Pole-Clutcher,” remarked Baedit Lospursareci later on, at the formal dining before the ritual. She had noticed the sealed vial near my plate. “Most of us need to be here a decade or more before we were noticed for such honor.”

  She was an older female, a Third Daughter like me but quite a few steps higher in the Seventh House, yet our similar title was enough justification to be seated next to me if she wished. Baedit was one of those Nobles not at all pleased I had lured her nephew into my arms in the web garden just a few cycles ago, and I knew to be wary of her smirk.

  She said, “I dare say you’ve been honing your skills for this moment since you arrived, Envi’s Daughter.”

  “Rohenvi’s Daughter,” I corrected, holding my chin up at the name, if only for pride’s sake.

  “Oh, I am aware, little Thalluensareci.” Baedit chuckled, sipping delicately at a taste-tested glass which had not left her hand all eve. “I remember Rohenvi when she was here parading around for her own studs. She avoided nursing her haughty mouth on slippery netherlips, too, and from what I heard, she was only interested in the swords going in one particular sheath. She must have been rather modest teaching you the way of things.”

  I gave her a wordless look, and she snickered.

  “From the way you go at things, I’d say she sent you here to catch as quickly as possible, even from a male at random, and give her a grandchild. Maybe more than one?”

  All my effort went into the restraint of grinding my teeth; if I didn’t, she would hear it.

  The Noble shrugged, sipped from her glass again. “But I understand the Twelfth House needs more children to survive, else I shouldn’t be surprised if it is simply absorbed into another within the next hundred turns. The First Daughter, strangely, seemed neither tempted nor was required to perform her primary duty before she died, and I haven’t heard any happy news in the new Heir. The only female bearing any Nobles at all for the last three centuries is the Matron herself, isn’t it so? One Daughter a century? No Sons? Rather stagnant for a middle House.”

  This wasn’t the first time I’d endured such talk—threats and insults disguised as curiosities—but this was one of the most precise collections of needles to be jabbed in a tiny area, one after another. Baedit must have been collecting comparison details between my Mother and me almost since I got here.

  I had never offered even a hint of my barrenness, however, and I knew my Mother hadn’t shared that detail with any contact upon sending me here. The Red Sisters knew of my condition, though they weren’t known for spreading gossip but instead collecting it into a bottomless, black cave, where it never came out except with a poison dart attached.

  “You haven’t taken your tonic yet,” the elder nudged me. “Be certain to quaff it before they come to collect you for the ceremony. Even the novice Priestesses will be able to tell who hasn’t drunk their ‘aid’ for the ritual, and they never treat gently those who delay them.”

  Controlling my expression lest someone connected to the Priesthood see it, I glanced at the vial sealed with wax. I thought again of Jilrina’s plays at being a Priestess, of her scouring unreliable sources for details of what went on inside the Sanctuary. I thought of all the potions she must have purchased to force down my throat on her little altar at the back of our estate. Most of them seemed to have no real effect beyond sedating me, sometimes leaving a headache or naus
ea afterward.

  Sitting at Court decades later, an ugly, cold fear spread over my stomach as I admitted to myself that I didn’t want to break that seal and drink whatever was in that vial.

  This one is real.

  My mind raced through possible means of evasion, of bowing out of the ceremony and still be blameless. Maybe I could manage food poisoning in a quarter mark.

  The tall, main doors opened, and everyone dining now stood at the first flash of elegant, purple robes and novice gowns in black and white. A shudder of terror gripped me which Baedit noted with a raised brow, and I cursed myself lividly in my own head.

  They’ll see! Do it! Don’t think!

  I reached for the vial, broke the seal, lifted it to my lips. A thick syrup touched my tongue just as I realized that everyone else who had been chosen got up but needed assistance to walk; most were guided toward the Priestesses by someone from their own House. A luxury I didn’t have.

  Fuck.

  I swallowed, nearly gagged at the bitter-sweetness, and scooted back my chair to slip by my dinner companions of the eve. I approached the Priestess novices and curtsied in my pale green, spider-silk gown beside another female Noble showing more drunkenness and attempting to do the same. The apprentice frowned at my relative sobriety, whispering something under her breath to scrutinize me and I waited, offering another curtsy as I hadn’t the fucking clue what to do next.

  “Good,” the novice Priestess said, nodding in satisfaction even as I expected her soon to report to a superior how I’d delayed quaffing the vial until the last possible moment.

  A good fourth of the dining hall had been gathered up, and we were now escorted out. Equal numbers female and male, all Davrin, of course, and each of us under two centuries old. The Priestesses had chosen only those with less experience and more youth.

  I couldn’t help wrinkling one nostril in bleary, private comment as my stomach rebelled at this apparent requirement. Perhaps Jilrina had heard about it and sought to mimic it as well, except she had chosen much younger than anyone here. This may be the most for which I could be grateful this eve: no children were collected to bear witness, not as there often were at executions.

  This was the first time I would pass outside the Palace and its grounds since I’d arrived, although we as a group never went outside the massive structure. The Palace was connected to the Sanctuary by open public doors and hallways, and probably many private ones unseen. Even the public doors were well-guarded. Any time prior, when I’d crossed in front of them on my way somewhere else, I’d never done more than quickly appraise the value of the gold webbing and amethyst spiders which decorated the entrance to the Sanctuary.

  When our dinner group arrived at the entrance, those extravagant, giant doors were already open. A Red Sister stood on each side, standing tall and intimidating even without clear weapons in their gloved hands. Their hard, unreadable eyes were on us as we were shuffled through the archway into a long, void-black hallway, clustered together. I could barely sort out my quickened heartbeat from those others around me.

  Someone slipped a hand into mine, either seeking mutual protection or merely preventing me from falling over as the Priestess’ potion spread through me, twisting my vision and lightening my head. I looked over before I could decide whether to pull my hand away.

  Micraen.

  I left my hand resting in his.

  We were herded into a large altar room lit by standing, iron lanterns drawing a rectangle of light along the stone walls. The Priestesses-in-training moved through various clusters, flashes of black and white pushing a few staggering, young Nobles into different groups.

  “No sisters with her brothers!” one of the novices shouted. “No brothers with brothers! Sisters and cousins may remain together.”

  Without needing such shoves, I noticed that Micraen wasn’t the only bua I’d once bedded sidling up to me now. I recognized Yeri, Tohni, and Reaf along with Micraen, as individual conquests from four separate Houses. Fuzzily I detected a pattern; each of them was the only bua from his House here this eve. He had, at best, a sister here. No cousins, apparently; too old to be selected, perhaps.

  Above our heads, the ceiling was bedecked with purple and gold banners, and the walls were clothed in rich, colorful tapestries meant to convey Braqth in Her Aspect of the Queen of Intrigue and Sensation. It was my first solid hint why we were here. I swallowed in relief that I wasn’t in a room with the Aspect of Endless Descent or that of Battle Madness and Blood Drinking.

  We were all ordered to kneel; she who spoke must be the elder Priestess, I guessed by the dress and appearance. I stood up on my knees, weaving to remain upright while some sat down on their haunches with legs folded beneath. My vision wasn’t clear, and some of the words the Priestesses spoke next seemed muddled; I vaguely worried I’d miss some vital instruction that would ruin the ritual, yet any fear at the thought was muted and numb. I felt in full the effects of the vial by now; I was warm, floating, and open to whatever would happen.

  As chanting-turned-singing began to rise from the front platform, three hands touched my backside through my dress while we listened. I glanced to one side, nearly fell over, and the Noble Sons surrounding me caught my fall, one caressing my breast while he had the chance.

  We all seemed to be floating. The buas’ hands were almost reverent, even being too bold and familiar. My heart pounded, and I didn’t tell them to stop. I glanced around and saw their erections in top shape, be it through trousers, robe, or sarong. Licking my lips, I smoothed my hand over my crotch; my breath hitching at the sensitivity. Watching me, they began rubbing themselves through their clothes, too.

  Goddess, yes…

  The Priestesses’ voices became a drone, the air seemed hot, and my little group was not the only one daring to relieve boredom in evident and flirtatious lust. Most seemed to be pairing up, with the female the clear dominant. A couple collected in threes—two caits roughly and greedily sharing a bua—and some of the pairs and small clusters were entirely female, struggling for control even before their clothes were off. I saw no twos or threes which were all male; every Noble Son was attached to at least one Noble Daughter, not of his House, and she often held his cock by the figurative leash.

  My group was unusual. Four Sons serving one Noble Daughter. Eight dark hands touching me. Over my buttocks. Between my legs through the gown. Now tugging at the threads and laces, exposing my breasts and my shoulders. One dove in to suckle a turgid, purple nipple.

  Oh, Goddess!

  “Braqth’ne Kash’et!” cried the elder Priestess, lifting a scepter high in the air from atop her platform.

  With the writhing lake of bodies spread out upon the floor, I could barely see what was happening upon the Altar. I also ceased to care when Micraen and the others eagerly stripped me nude and, in the struggle to get free of the confining dress, I fell forward onto my palms, barely remaining on my knees. My legs still parted, I flinched when the pads of fingers glided over my netherlips, testing my receptivity. I needn’t worry about a repeat of my first time with Micraen; I was dripping, my fluid oozing with abundance.

  “F-fuck me,” I growled, quivering in that undignified position. I didn’t want to move; I only wanted to feel—

  One of them plunged his cock into my sex, and I sucked in a breath and wailed in relief. The other three pinched my nipples and caressed my belly and flanks while the first stroked and serviced me like a well-trained stud. I climaxed swiftly; I should have been surprised about that but was drowning in the gasps and cries surrounding me while the Priestesses whipped the Nobles into a drunken orgy.

  The quality of the light seemed to change, from crisp, silvery blue from the lanterns on the side walls to a warm red glow from the direction of the high platform. I couldn’t lift my head to make out the reason for the odd light as the first bua to mount me now pulled out, having spilled inside me at some point during my own gripping peak. I waited for the next in l
ine to seek his relief and help me come again.

  I yelped to feel something entirely different and intensely sensitive. Looking over one shoulder to blink, I was shocked to see the next male—Reaf of House Bovritz—with his face buried between my buttocks. There was that startling, wet swipe again.

  He…he’s licking my netherhole!

  In all my conquests, this was the first time I was bent over exposing my slit and bud at the same time, and I’d never asked for a service such as this! My mouth hung open as the knowledgeable tip of his tongue stroked and teased the tight pucker open, making it flutter around his probing tongue, out of my control. Somehow my drenched folds swelled even more as my breeding hole ached for another rut.

  H-He knew how to do this, and he didn’t ask before? Oh! Fuck, yes!

  Reaf stopped slurping my ass and had finally mounted me properly, taking my cunt despite my inability to articulate that command. I grunted and blubbered something like approval as his hips slapped my haunches, my eyes rolling up. Goddess, I was wet! Too wet. He might have to go for quite some time to reach his summit.

  The third bua couldn’t wait. He slithered on his back underneath me, slipping his lovely feet in between my parted knees and encouraged me to resettle my hands just to the outsides of his shoulders. I chuckled as my tits jiggled above his face with Reaf’s thrusts; I looked down at this new one with his sweet face and wide, eager eyes.

  Tohni, I recalled though failed to think of the House. Instead, the next thought was, He likes kissing.

  I settled down on my elbows, pressing my tits to him while keeping my hips in the air for Reaf. I pressed my lips to Tohni’s mouth, and he kissed me back; I felt his shaking arms go around me as he hummed. I didn’t think Reaf had climaxed yet, but he pulled out and, solely by pressing down on my butt, encouraged me to sit and take Tohni’s cock next. Eagerly, I did so, and my new bua groaned and humped upward as Reaf guided him inside.

  Three in my snatch without even wiping down. A personal best!

  Almost immediately, I would perform another.