No Demons But Us

by A. S. Etaski

  Reaf didn’t move out of the way but instead climbed over me, gripping my shoulder and wedging the head of his unsated pole between my ass cheeks. Without pause, he pushed on the bud he had teased so delightfully before.

  “W-What—Oh!!”

  My netherhole held little resistance to any pressure, despite it knowing only a tentative finger or two until then. Wet from Reaf’s saliva and now meeting his blunt spear coated thick with my own lubricant, the virginal hole splayed open for him in obscene submission. Such a stretch seized my mind! I hardly felt a twinge of pain, and no burning as I would have if I had been sober and not surrounded by chants and grunts of other Nobles receiving the same.

  I cried out loudly as Reaf penetrated his full length, my voice lost among many others and held still while both pricks were squeezed together, tight inside my body. I was suspended within the sensations of our Goddess, held tight in the grip of ritual magic. I didn’t fight or protest straddling one bua from above with another on top of me, his cock deep in my ass.

  “Sirana!” Reaf gasped, drawing halfway out and pushing back in all the way to his white fur. “Yes, oh my Goddess, yes!”

  “Yes!” I echoed, shaking at the unfamiliar invasion, yet still, I relaxed back against him and wanted more.

  “Yes! More, Children of Braqth!” the Priestess commanded, her rich voice filling the chamber above us. “Each climax, every one of your screams gets us closer! Deny Our Mistress of the Web no part of your body which She demands! Submit to us! Spread your young legs wide, Nobles! Service them, young Sons, until they can take no more!”

  Tohni and Reaf fucked both my orifices with such enthusiasm, pinning me between them and moving together such that I couldn’t catch my breath. My mouth was open, drooling when I was caught up in an unexpected rise, groaning through a second, shuddering orgasm. When a hard, smooth phallus slipped between my lips and settled on my tongue, I sucked him readily, delighted and proud to be pleasuring so many at once! Reaf slammed in a few more thrusts and grunted, going still so that I could feel the pulse and throb of his member inside my initiated netherhole; he had left his offering behind at last.

  At this point, the male inside my mouth took my once-styled, well-braided hair in his fist and thrust harder past my lips as Tohni hurried to finish inside my swollen cunt. Held in place and waiting for those two anticipated moments, I didn’t know who parted my cheeks and pierced my netherhole again. I cried out, heard Tohni do the same as he seeded me at last, and looked up to see my fourth, Yeri, ready to paint my tongue with his cream. He quickly followed Tohni, and my slit clutched one while I swallowed and slurped the other.

  “Wraph’t’ren Galla!” shrieked the Priestess, and something like torn cloth sounded through the very air itself.

  I was dripping male seed when Micraen—the one now inside my loosened back hole—pulled my hips up off a momentarily-spent Tohni. I settled on all fours again with my head lolling, a hum of the Priestess’s power rushing through me as I trembled, caught helpless in ecstasy. My first conquest of the Ninth House reamed my netherhole for the second time, intending to finish there, and I wanted him to. And I wanted another after him—whoever was ready!

  I neither could move nor wanted to, as Micraen slipped his member back out, as mixed fluids dripped down my thighs.

  Yes…yes…

  A scream.

  One of pain.

  With effort, I lifted my head, tried three times to focus my eyes to see that far; meanwhile, a faceless male got behind me and squished his rod inside my soaking slit.

  Oh, Goddess. Ugh. Th-there is a creature in the chamber. In here, with us.

  Not a Davrin. Huge. Wings like a bat. Spikes on his elbows—Four of them?—and hooked spurs on his knees; more sharp edges jutting from his shoulders. A mane of long, russet red hair flowing down his spine. No tail. No clothes.

  He rutted a Priestess on Braqth’s Altar, his hips thrusting between her spread legs. His wrists were chained down to the stone through the spellcraft of one Priestess. Another Priestess maintained the magical muzzle keeping his bestial mouth shut and his jaw up as if it was tethered to the ceiling. He couldn’t rip her flesh.

  Or, not more than he was doing.

  Spikes on his cock…blood on her thighs.

  She endured it bravely.

  I shuddered, felt someone withdraw from my cunt as semen splattered the stone beneath me. A blessedly normal Davrin cock pressed into my yielding netherhole, filling me up as yet another bua kneeled in front of me, blocking the view of the altar. Closing my eyes, I lowered my willing mouth onto his erection, tasting a previous mix of female fluids on his prick.

  I might have come again, once or twice more while my holes felt more pleasure than I could ever have imagined. I knew Tohni rolled me to feast with his lips on my mouth regardless of semen still dripping from my own, while Yeri lifted my legs and mounted with me while I was on my back. Beyond this, I could barely focus.

  At some point, there was an explosion; not of fire or destruction, but of raw power, of controlled magic. I heard and felt the roaring completion of a spiritual ritual I would later learn defied mundane forms of conception. It created something exceptional within the Valsharess’s control.

  Long before then, I regained consciousness along with the other young Nobles on the floor of the Altar room. All of us. Naked. Sticky. Sore. Looking furtively at one another, wondering, Had I really…? Did she, did he—?

  “Return to your families and your quarters, Nobles!” a Priestess commanded. “Stand up! The novices and the Sisters will guide you back to your rooms. Do not take time to dress; let your elders be reminded when they were once in your place!”

  Return to your families…

  My four conquests did so, meekly joining their sisters and leaving me standing alone. My elbows and knees were scraped, my muscles tired and my neck stiff as I got up. For the moment, my nipples were somewhere between tingling and numb, and I couldn’t tell how many poles had served me in such quick succession. All three holes felt sated, pleasantly warm.

  It wouldn’t last once the contents of that vial wore off.

  Surrounded by blood-red leather and white-black spider silk, and once again herded like livestock, we clutched our clothing to us, many of us wearing only our slippers as we made our way through chilly hallways back to our respective parts of the Palace.

  Some of the group whimpered; others sighed and took pride in the apparent success of our participation, what it might mean for their status. Some of them would speak of what just happened while some would spurn the opportunity. I stayed silent because there would be no one waiting at my quarters—be it to mock me or help me into a bathtub; no one to choose whether or not to let me sleep this off.

  I broke off from the herd as soon as I could, evading a few older females who tried to get my attention and hurrying down a familiar hallway. My head pounded as I prayed I wouldn’t collapse before I got into some warm, clean water. There were so many scents on me I couldn’t enjoy one in any particular, and I needed something to soothe my inspection of sensitive, tender flesh.

  I reached my quarters, fumbling with the Ward before I got the door open and took a step inside.

  I heard, “Hold the door, Blue Eyes.”

  I didn’t know the other Noble’s voice, and I didn’t care. I nearly stepped inside, ready to close the door in her face.

  Or do I? Should I?

  I hesitated, glanced to my right.

  It wasn’t another Noble.

  One of the Red Sisters strolled her way toward me, apparently relieved of her duty in escorting the mass of us back. I froze in terror, holding the door by happenstance instead of cooperation. The fighter female took my naked shoulder and pushed me inside my own suites, closing the door behind us as I gripped my ruined evening gown to my front, already shaking.

  In the state I was in, my mind was not remotely prepared to deal with a Red Sister. We were alone. No one
even to see what became of me.

  I’m going to die.

  The Red Sister left me to quake as she swept my suites for me, checking every empty bedroom and living space before showing herself again. She then lit a few candles around the sitting room, her rust-red gaze returning to me.

  “Ah, good, you didn’t move.”

  She smiled as she removed her cloak, gloves, and helm. Hearing her speak again and given a chance to see her face again, I realized I had known her voice outside in the hall. She was the Red Sister who had guarded me in my room back home five turns ago, the one who had broken my mirror while waiting for her Elder to interrogate me.

  Maybe they found something they’d been keeping in reserve in judging my supposed guilt? Perhaps they were just picking an unexpected time that I should be taken away and locked up? Would my Matron be informed, or would she even know what happened to me? Would she react with more than a mildly regretful sigh, as she had hearing Jilrina had met her death by accident?

  Or maybe now I’m the “right” age for this Red Sister when I’d only been “almost” then.

  It wasn’t unheard of that Red Sisters would occasionally harass a Noble who needed to be reminded of her place. I’d heard whispers. Maybe I’d drawn that attention. Maybe I would learn what Kaltra already knew. I swallowed.

  She approached to take my bare, upper arm in a firm grasp, dragging me with her to the bathing room. Setting her cloak, gloves, and helm on a counter, she placed the stretch-funnel attached to my rune-marked cistern into the empty tub and opened the valve. As clear water spilled in and began climbing up the smooth sides, the Red Sister turned around and kept herself between me and the water basin.

  “Have fun, Blue Eyes?” she asked, arms crossed as her eyes raked over me. Her poise was intimidating; I got the impression a single punch from her would knock me out.

  “S-Surprise, but lav’sh, Red Sisster,” I slurred.

  I wanted to slap my own face. What kind of answer was that? I couldn’t think!

  As the tub continued to fill, she chuckled and motioned for me to drop the stained dinner gown; slowly, I obeyed, letting it crumple to the floor. I stood nude with hot and protesting joints, wearing only my eve’s slippers on my feet. I was filthy, covered in sweat, spit, and the semen of no less than four males. Maybe more.

  “Show me your netherhole,” she said, casually and without preamble.

  I resigned myself to let the funnel drain the entire ration of heated water from my cistern into the tub. The servants only refilled the water by bucket every three cycles, and it took time for the magical runes to warm it up to a pleasant temperature.

  You’re stalling, Sirana.

  I turned around, my knees growing weak, and bent over.

  Or rather, I tried to bend over. My head revolted, I lost my balance, and soon I was splayed on the floor. Within a moment I felt the tap of the Red Sister’s boot.

  “Come on,” she said. “Show me.”

  I couldn’t stand to try again with my head toward the floor, so I opted for elbows and knees again, whimpering slightly at the renewed rawness. Her boot tapped the inside of my knees, wordlessly instructing me to spread them wider, and I did. She pushed her palm down on the small of my back, and I took the cue to roll my hips up to present myself in a way I had only just now learned to do for Micraen and the others in mutual service to Braqth.

  “Good cait,” she murmured, touching my buttocks and gently parting them with a thumb, studying my holes while I couldn’t even imagine how they might look right now. “Ohhh, little Noble. Unless you’ve got a potion hidden away somewhere, you’re going to waddle when you walk the next cycle or two.”

  Her eyes lingered to drink their fill of my soiled and swollen flesh, and her bare hand squeezed my rump, yet she did not try to jam her own fingers inside either orifice as I expected her to. I was silently grateful; I could feel exactly what she meant about waddling.

  “Into the tub,” she ordered.

  “Y-yes, Red Sister,” I mumbled.

  I found myself unable to securely attain my feet, so instead crawled to the edge and pulled myself up. Eventually, with sloshing and some water on the floor, I managed to shed my slippers and get into the tub. I groaned in bliss as the heat seeped in.

  “Don’t fall asleep,” she said.

  I snapped my eyes open, my heart pounding as I realized I could easily drown because I could in no way expect her to save me if it suited her otherwise. So I forced myself to use soap and cloth to scrub the ritual’s stains from my skin. While I worked on this, the Red Sister smirked, watching me like I was a fly caught in Braqth’s web and dancing to provide much amusement.

  “Was that your first time?” she asked.

  “H-huh?” I bit my lip at the half-witted response, but fortunately for me, she overlooked it in favor of an answer.

  “Taking three at once,” she clarified.

  Shivering in the warm tub, wincing as I shifted on my sore backside, I nodded. “Y-yes, Red Sister. My first.”

  “What about having your shit chute ridden like a collared male at an execution party?”

  My face flushed and my scrubbing faltered. I hadn’t heard a description that crass since I’d been near my Matron’s fighters at our Barracks, even though Mother didn’t tend to have “execution parties” like that.

  “Also my first, Sister,” I answered, not arguing with the degrading likeness. It wasn’t as if I’d been in any shape to pick which Nobles mounted me that way, and I still remembered the way I’d cooperated and moaned for more.

  Because of whatever was in that vial.

  The Red Sister chuckled, her eyes trailing over me in obvious appreciation of my used, naked body. My gut rebelled against whatever she imagined, yet my head knew I was trapped into whatever she wanted until she decided to leave. To my intense aggravation, I felt my eyes ache as if they might tear up.

  No! Fucking deal with it, don’t dare weep like a weak, little child. I can take it, I’ve done it before.

  I washed my hair, got my body clean, answered her other questions about my part in the ritual. I asked no questions of my own even though plenty ricocheted through the stubborn bits of my mind. The water raced toward tepid and about when my toes might have been wrinkling, the Red Sister stood up and held a dry towel out for me. Her hungry eyes never left my body as I stood up, set the tub to drain, and accepted the plush cloth to dry myself. She offered a second one for my long hair. I doubted she ever needed two; her hair was far too short.

  “Where do you lie down?” she asked as she escorted me out into the narrow hall.

  I shrugged, nauseated but resigned. “Wherever, Red Sister. Pick one.”

  She looked up and down the near-empty quarters, still amused, and pushed me toward a middle-sized bedroom two doors farther back. I cursed myself for not even resisting her for two instants, for swallowing all my defiance as if Jilrina was still alive.

  I was a pathetic Davrin in front of stronger females. No wonder the Court sneered at me for only being able to handle buas.

  She’s a Red Sister. What good has it ever done anyone to defy a Red Sister?

  One of the last torture-executions I saw had been conducted by them. I nearly heaved just thinking about it now.

  I exchanged a Reverie-gown for my damp towels—at least to give me some brief moment of protection, and she didn’t stop me—and readily climbed onto the clean bed, above the covers. I kneeled, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted first.

  The short-haired warrior sat down on the edge of the bed, her legs splayed comfortably, boots flat on the rug. Her scent of skin and leathers was musky and suggestive that she spent more time outside of fancy shelters than I ever had. She hadn’t shown me one spell or tool or weapon, yet I sensed the power and confidence such that I knew there were times when she didn’t need them.

  She must be four times my age. And she’s still alive. How long has she been wearing tha
t uniform?

  After a few moments sitting there in silence, I realized I envied her.

  Nobles fear her. Even Matrons. She goes into whatever room she wants and doesn’t have to threaten. She sees things, hidden things. She can fight, can defend herself; she isn’t humiliated no matter who she fucks. Meanwhile, I’ll sit here like dumb beast distracting myself with young poles until the Priestesses need to herd us from our holding tank again.

  Five turns at Court, and I already hated my life as much as I had back home.

  “You started combat training at House Thalluen. Why did you stop?”

  She had spoken out of thin air, yet her words clubbed me over the head. I swallowed another stupid reflex and answered her.

  “Jilrina made me stop,” I said.

  “She’s dead.”

  That reasoning had been swept aside like cobwebs.

  “I w-was trying to learn how to run a House as an Heir,” I explained.

  “You’re barren.”

  I shivered, the statement spearing me down to my core. My throat flexed painfully. My next excuse would have been related to how no fighter groups except the Red Sisters and the Palace Guard was allowed at Court, but I already knew the Valsharess still saw some Nobles taught how to use a sword or dagger at least, one-on-one, upon the request of their Matron.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Finally, the Red Sister nodded. Although she took that, the answer felt unacceptable.

  “Send a letter to your Matron,” she said.

  As soon as she saw the stubborn expression flitting unwisely across my face, she barked a loud laugh at the ceiling. I jumped and shrunk back at the sound, but she reached out and took my arm, yanking me onto the bed and pressing me down with her body. I screamed once—I couldn’t help myself—but silenced myself as I found her mouth on mine, her tongue forced between my lips. She kissed me, sucked on my sore lips harshly, a firm hand palming my right breast through the thin sleep gown. She pinched my nipple, and though it grew hard under her fingers, I discovered it still tender. I squeaked in protest, which amused her as she hummed against me.