by A. S. Etaski
That’s interesting.
Meanwhile, the four Red Sisters surrounding me removed their weapons, effects, armor, and clothing until they were stark nude as I was, setting their uniforms neatly off to the side. Their bodies were toned and healthy; to a one, they appeared perfect and capable; intimidating, even naked. Or perhaps mainly because they were naked.
The Red Sister Prime was the only one within the web who stood, watching everything yet seeming disinterested. Her nose wrinkled a bit as she scanned my relatively soft body, and I wanted to quail under her gaze but dared not show more weakness than I already had.
All or nothing. I would become a Red Sister, or I would die in this chamber. Upon that altar. I can’t die that way. I can’t.
We waited. I wasn’t sure what we expected until I heard the whisper of a hem trailing along the ground somewhere near the altar. From out behind Braqth’s backdrop came a true Priestess, not the wannabe Jilrina had been. This female wore deep violet robes lovingly holding to her curves, and her black spider headpiece framed her beautiful face while holding her long hair back from her eyes. A ceremonial dagger in its jeweled sheath rested at one hip, a black leather pouch at the other.
She was adorned with silver jewelry; fine webbing covered the backs of her hands, and shining rings encircled her elegant fingers. A necklace of Braqth’s spider nestled between her breasts, the abdomen filled with a perfectly polished amethyst, and multiple studs and glittering dangles pierced her pointed ears.
This Davrin Priestess held herself with more grace and confidence than any I’d ever seen at the public sacrifices, and it was because of her presence drawing every eye in the room that I finally recognized her. This was the speaking guide present at the orgy of which I’d been a part, the last Abyssal Initiation.
A new Priestess had to complete her own ritual in coupling with and conceiving by the summoned demon, but there must also be a divine guide of considerable power. If control faltered, the sire of a Sathoet would become a dire threat to the entire drugged congregation. I recalled this guide had been the only one not participating in the orgy.
What was her name? Hadn’t some of the more experienced Nobles been talking afterward? Hadn’t they mentioned her? Yes. I knew her title.
“Lelinahdara,” I whispered, and the four, naked Red Sisters all glanced at me.
The Kiss of House Lelinh. A favored Daughter, though not the eldest, and she would never rule the Third House as Matron. Simply by merit, for being as influential of a Priestess as she was, she held the title which generally defaulted to the First Daughter.
The Red Sister Prime snapped her fingers, and the four Red Sisters moved up the steps. I was not touched or guided; I was expected to accompany them under my own volition. I climbed the nine steps with them and paused, unsure whether to go forward and lift myself onto the altar or not.
Unsure? I couldn’t afford any uncertainty right now. I moved forward toward the marble table at a speed that implied confidence but also allowed me to catch any disapproval from the Priestess.
Lelinahdara held up her hand, and I stopped in an instant with relief. She approached me instead and looked into my eyes. Her mouth curved slightly and her voice embodied the reverence on the faces of the watchers: rich and seductive, a speaker’s voice.
“Your eyes are blue. That always denotes an unusual Davrin.”
Her eyes were green. Brighter than emerald, and even more unusual. But I made no comment on that.
“What is your name and title, daughter of the Davrin?”
“Sirana Thalluensareci,” I answered.
The Priestess nodded and stepped away from me. She reached into her pouch and sprinkled a light dusting of a pale powder atop the blood-stained altar. She’d begun chanting in a tremulous alto as she stepped around to face the congregation of Red Sisters. She nodded again to the four others standing on the platform with us, and they seized me. One Sister grabbed each limb and lifted me up as roughly as if I resisted them. I emitted a cursed shriek and felt my body being drawn out, my arms and legs held taut as they raised me up and set my bare, scratched back on the cold, stained marble.
They didn’t let go but held me helpless, spread like a bat as the Priestess came into my view again. Lelinahdara stood beside me and placed her hand on my abdomen. Her flesh was warm and dry; mine was chilled and sticky. Her hand glided up to rest above my pounding heart. She still chanted softly, and I could feel a tingle of magic coming into me from her palm.
No. No, what is she doing?
Jilrina had done this, but I’d never felt any quiver of energy before. Not like this.
*Yes, child. Think about your sister.*
The tingle trailed up from my chest, through my lungs and neck and into my head. It felt like fingers were cradling my mind inside my skull, probing and squeezing for who knew what. My eyes were tightly shut as my head throbbed beneath even the meager light of the sparse torches on the walls.
*Interesting,* her voice drifted through me, *your sister must have had a contact inside our temple. One who divulged more than she should have about our rituals. Did you ever know who it was?*
I shook my head, my eyes still closed. *No, Priestess.*
*No matter. We’ll find her if she still lives. Right now, I want to know the most feared ritual that she did to you. Show me.*
My body struggled hard as she searched around inside me, and although it now felt stronger, the Red Sisters held it firm. *Stop! No—!*
*I know she couldn’t get away with the real sacrifices without your Matron finding out,* the Priestess coaxed, her fingernails pressing into my sternum as my heart slammed beneath it. *It cannot be that bad, Sirana, you still have all your limbs and digits, you still have your eyes and all your organs. I know this, I’ve healed the damage you took from your trials. I know your body. I’ll perform the ritual for you, and you’ll see what real power is.*
The Priestess placed her other hand beneath my jaw, trying to cup my face. I turned away from her.
*NO! Not again!*
*Shush. Jilrina is nothing to fear.*
*But she needed to die,* I seethed.
*Did you kill her, Sirana?*
*I fucking didn’t! It was an accident!*
*Very well. The timing was interesting. We were about to accept her into apprenticeship before she died.*
*Jilrina had no magic! She was an imposter!*
*Yes, she had magic, Sirana, through her Consort sire. If she continually failed to raise much power using you as her Living Altar, I do not wonder that Varessa D’Shea has selected you to be tested for the Sisterhood. I am here to see if she is right.*
Lelinahdara’s hands remained over my heart, now clutching my face with a ringed thumb hooked under my jaw.
*You shall be the Living Altar for a true ritual for the glory of Braqth, Sirana. This will happen, accept it. Survive it with your mind intact, and the Red Sisters will be your new family. But you must give me what I want first, child. Keep resisting, and I will choose the ritual. Unfortunately, the Red Sister Prime will have no use for you, then.*
All or nothing. I wanted to piss myself, though desecrating the altar was not my intent. Desperate to relax and reign in my panic, I closed my eyes and drew a deep, shaking breath, picturing the calm peace of the laughing, red warrior. It worked. The moment I stopped fighting her, Lelinahdara found the memory.
*Ah. Vicious. She left you unable to bear children, Sirana.*
*So my Matron told me. The Sorceress Sister told her. That’s why I’m at Court.*
*There could be no other outcome. How could you ever be Matron of House Thalluen?*
*Because Jilrina simply would not be, no matter who I had to pray to.*
*Careful of such thoughts in the future, Sirana, though it is too late now. Your House is a crippled House which may not last much longer. Kaltra is infirm as a Matron. You are barren.*
My body struggled of its own accord again, tre
mbling with rage and fear, though I felt oddly separated from it as the Lelinahdara’s voice filled me and I kept my eyes closed. Someone’s mouth and tongue played at the junction of my thighs, teasing and soothing my sex, yet someone else was biting my nipples, causing sharp pain.
*My sister couldn’t get away with what she did! She just couldn’t!*
*Perhaps she did. But now it has stopped. Now what?*
*I-I would have found a way to get an heir,* I wept. *If my Matron had given me a chance over Kaltra.*
The Priestess chuckled, low and smooth. *You cannot know the irony of that thought, daughter. It seems our Lady of the Web has a most interesting place for you in Her Design.*
I flinched as something liquid and hot dripped onto my thighs, my belly, my chest, scalding my skin. I knew what it was without opening my eyes; candle wax.
The first part of Jilrina’s ritual.
The drips came too frequently, and the heat became too much. I screamed at the next set of successive, stinging burns. The loud wail seemed to be what they wanted, for now for no more wax fell. Soft mouths sucked on my toes and fingers instead. What had to be a thick candle pushed between my legs, spreading me open and filling my birth canal. A fist gripped my hair and pulled so that I must squirm and shift my body up farther upon the altar to where my head was no longer supported by the granite.
The second part.
I leaned back, my hair draping and almost touching the floor, and I could smell aroused female petals right in front of me. The Red Sister still gripping my hair forced my mouth on her, demanding I service her with nary a word. I hadn’t done this since Jilrina died, yet it would seem one never forgets. My tongue flicked out and up, and I sucked on her, eating her with forced skill and practice.
The fat candle was soon withdrawn from my body, and the Priestess was chanting again. I remembered this third part and writhed desperately, my cry of fear muffled between silky thighs. The Red Sister pressed me to her so hard as to almost suffocate me. Two others still held my ankles and my legs apart, and the fourth draped her weight across my chest to hold me down.
*NO! No, no, no, no…please no!*
Though I couldn’t see her, I knew the Priestess would be standing between my legs with her ceremonial dagger unsheathed, the naked blade shining. I was to take that dagger as I would a phallus; I would feel it thrust up inside me.
Jilrina had almost killed me when she did it. For whole marks of the candle I suffered, bled, until she—out of sheer fright at being found out a sister-killer by our Matron—had brought me a healing potion from somewhere. I took the chance and drank it, and the flesh had healed and appeared normal on the outside. Inside, I now knew, there was scarring. My womb had not been thoroughly repaired, and if there had been anything else to be done for that, I could not speak to anyone about it.
The cold metal touched my thighs. Its point scraped upward, drawing small pinpoints of blood, I was sure. The tip was nestled between my lips and paused there.
I screamed again; this time the sound was trapped inside my head.
*Sirana? Did you ever know what this ritual was for?*
I was mindless in my fear. I couldn’t answer, even with a thought.
*Sirana! Answer me!*
Every breath I heaved was steamy, fragrant, a Davrin’s intimate scent filling my head and her heat warming my face. Yet I was so cold.
*Damn sisters. Braqth curse all sisters…!*
*Are you ready to break?* the Priestess taunted me. *I shall shove this blade inside you, and you will bleed out on the altar, your body dumped by slaves to feed the Dread Spiders of the Pit. What a pathetic end for a Noble, barren Daughter.*
I screamed in rage, thrashing as I could, unable to break the Red Sisters’ hold. *F-fuck you, Priestess! Fuck you all!*
She chuckled inside my head. *I think you shall, Sirana.*
Lelinahdara began pushing the dagger inside, and I expected fully to feel the edge slicing me open again. Instead, I felt the hard, thin shape of the naked blade but not the razor sharpness, as if it was still covered in a protective sheath. I also felt a tingle, then a rush of energy that flooded into my guts and caused me to gasp with the keenest points of pleasure and pain I’d ever felt. My body was straight as a bowstring, and I made wild sounds between another female’s thighs, but now I could not comprehend what I was even trying to say.
More? Stop? Don’t stop?
The Priestess kept about half its length moving in and out, fucking me gently. Instead of the ripping and shredding I remembered, it was electric and mind-wracking, like being squeezed in the grip of an endless orgasm with every tender stroke.
*This is Braqth’s Threshold, young daughter,* Lelinahdara said with pride. *This was the ritual your sister tried to mimic. It is a fertility ritual to guarantee a child by the next seed of a male chosen. The longer I concentrate on your sensation, the higher the reward and the magic can last for cycles.*
“Ah!” I cried aloud, churning my hips clumsily against her refined strokes with that dagger.
*If my relic touches the entrance to your womb, Sirana, it heals what was destroyed,* she thought. *It makes you fertile again. But I haven’t reached your core yet. Can you take more of me without going mad? Can you take it all?*
I writhed. I could barely think. I don’t even know if I was breathing. I was hardly aware of who I was anymore.
*I…I…oh!….oh, Goddess!*
The Priestess’s voice crooned to me. *Yes, Sirana, Braqth’s Threshold. True divinity, to be used sparingly. Go ahead and feel it. Do you wish to become whole again? Do you want sisters? All or nothing, Sirana, just as you’ve realized. You’re a smart cait.*
I shuddered, straining against the exalted flood of sensation. I did not understand what the Priestess said through my ecstasy and my agony, yet I twisted my head violently to the side and somehow freed myself from the grip of muscular, feminine thighs. My body undulated, and I scooted down the altar, thrusting myself fully onto the ceremonial dagger, feeling the magic-laden point press hard against the entrance to my womb. I screamed until my voice echoed in the ritual chamber.
Vaguely I knew what I’d done. I’d taken the entire length of the dagger willingly. My eldest sister had asked the same thing of me. A requirement, she said. I would have rather died. I almost did when she lost her patience and forced me to take it.
This energy, however, with the dagger all the way inside me and centered in my core, was intense, hot, and divine. I squirted when my pleasure peaked for the last time, spraying clear fluid over the dagger’s handle and the Priestess’s hand. Then I collapsed and fell into a paralyzing afterglow, my legs dangling off the altar. I couldn’t move, couldn’t open my eyes, but I could still hear. Barely. I believed even the Priestess thought me unconscious as she carefully slid the naked blade out of my healthy and whole cunt.
“Well, Priestess?”
It was the Red Sister Prime.
“Will she come out of this with a useful mind?”
“Absolutely,” Lelinahdara replied with confidence. “I could sense her to the very end; she was as lucid as any in the past who have survived this ritual.”
A wet, sticky hand adorned with metal was placed over my abdomen, and the Priestess continued, “She is also not barren anymore. She will be highly fertile for the next few cycles. Unless you wish her to catch a child, keep males out of her reach. She will be craving them.”
“She won’t be seeing males where she’s going, Priestess,” the Prime said, a subtle emphasis of disgust on the word. “Not for spans.”
The third voice to speak was Varessa D’Shea. “Sirana is accepted for the next trial?”
“She is ours now, Elder,” the Prime confirmed. “Inform her Matron after the recruit has been taken outside of the city.”
One corner of my mouth twitched as my consciousness faded.
No demons but them.
CHAPTER 5
I awoke na
ked and chilled, although my eyes remained closed by lifelong habit. My breath was steady as I pretended I was asleep. I inhaled, drawing in scents of rock, algae, and moisture but little else. My ears detected regular drips echoing in a cavernous area, and the fingers of my left hand trailed in barely-moving water.
Outside.
A low, female voice returned to me.
“Inform her Matron after the recruit has been taken outside of the city.”
My eyes flew open, and I jerked my hand out of the water before some creature could begin nibbling on it. I clutched it in my other hand, barely warmer, flexing the feeling back into it, reassuring myself that it still worked. I took a sniff of the moisture on my numb fingers and smelled almost nothing.
Where am I? Be quiet. You already disturbed the surface.
I lay on my side in the dark. The hard stone beneath me was uneven and dank, and my left shoulder and hip had gone numb from lying here unmoving. Swallowing a groan, I shifted carefully onto my back. I looked around as my eyes adjusted to the pitch dark.
Is no one else here?
The cavern was not large; enough floor space to fit quarters for five, perhaps, with a dark pool in the middle. I flexed my wet hand again, disoriented. I touched wet fingers to my tacky lips, licking them.
Freshwater. A pool deep enough to sustain a score of Davrin indefinitely.
I knew this from touching it; not a stagnant pond, but a silent spring being fed by a subaqueous stream. We had one on my Matron’s plantation, but even such a valuable pool would not support any type of agriculture or animal husbandry for longer than a few decades. We’d needed more.
I closed my eyes tight against an ache in my head. Pointless. Still practicing what it takes to be a Matron? A decade and a half at Court and the only change was…
My stomach chilled all the way back to my spine as my heart picked up.
The Red Sisters came for me. Fuck. Where am I?
I had used my ears and nose to determine there was no urgent threat, my tongue to confirm a safe drink if I wanted it, but it wasn’t as if I was blind. My eyes weren’t useless.
