The Temptress Ch. 01

Despite of Amean's enthusiasm, it was Simvanna's silence that attracted L'tirashin's notice. "What seems to be the matter, my slave?" L'tirashin asked as she placed her hands on Simvanna's hips and lightly touched the elf's bald pate with her forehead. Since L'tirashin stood as tall as a typical human male, this made her almost a full head taller than Simvanna. But the demoness may as well have been standing as tall as a tree before the elf. Simvanna could feel her fear beginning to re-assert itself and it was only because of her unbroken will that she was able to remain standing in the demoness' presence.

A silent threat of death always hovered around L'tirashin like an invisible shroud. And even more so when she had taken a "special interest" in someone; much like the way she had with Simvanna.

"Weren't you enjoying yourself just now, my sweet? Hmmmm?" L'tirashin delighted in watching the panic build in her slave's eyes. She knew Simvanna reviled her very presence on this world and would gladly see the demoness destroyed if she could. Breaking the spirit of this one will be quite an excellent challenge, L'tirashin mused, and one I look forward to.

The strong-willed elf felt herself drawing inexorably closer to taking flight from the demoness but Simvanna knew she would never get very far. Even if L'tirashin let her run, she would probably be stopped in her tracks by the first magical or mundane trap she came encountered. Simvanna's only two choices then would be either recapture or death. There was also the question of what would happen to Amean; the Temptress may choose to vent her rage on her sister, something the prideful elf would never forgive herself for allowing to happen. No, the near to despairing Simvanna thought, It would be wiser to remain. . .for now.

Just as Simvanna opened her mouth a little to respond, L'tirashin lifted Simvanna's chin and forced a deep kiss on the flustered slave. As their tongues caressed each other, the demoness could feel her vassal tense up for the briefest moment before compelling herself to relax and "enjoy" the embrace. After a long, lingering kiss, L'tirashin released her.

"There," the Temptress said with a satisfied smile. "Perhaps that will help you to make up your mind to join your sister and I later." With the same abruptness as a change in the wind, so too did L'tirashin's voice and manner. "Now, go!" she commanded the pair in an icy tone, as she dismissed them with a grandiose flourish of her hand. "I have much more matters of far greater importance to attend to than the likes of you."

As the sisters bent to gather their cast-off dresses and take leave of their mistress, a gnarled, man-sized staff floated down from somewhere near the throne room's dark and unlit ceiling and drifted silently into the L'tirashin's raised hand. In the blink of an eye, the demoness's nudity was at least partially concealed by a blood red camisole that had been cut-off just below L'tirashin's breasts. A matching loincloth did its best to conceal the Night One's hairy bush but without much success. As Amean and Simvanna quickly made their way down the dais stairs and out of the chamber, L'tirashin addressed her remaining slaves.

"The rest of you are dismissed as well. You may return to finish up your chores, as well as the ones of those two, after evening fast." Without uttering a word, the Night One's slaves obeyed and vacated the room.

L'tirashin again assumed her throne but waited a long while before doing anything other than that, lest a prying eye or ear glean even the tiniest tidbit of knowledge which would be best left unknown---at least for the time being.

While she sat, L'tirashin took some time for contemplation. Her plans to bring this magic-rich world to heel under the control of her brethren were moving ahead faster than she had dared dream. Within a century, Tiaceor would be ripe for the taking!

But then, why was she feeling less than elated? Even after all she had managed to accomplish on this world and back in the Everdark, why was she feeling so. . .alone? Like there was a permanent hole in her dark spirit that no amount of sex, power, or magic could ever seal.

She knew why. And that emptiness would always be there. It had been so long ago for her that whenever she thought about him, it more often seemed like it had been a memory stolen from someone else's life than one from her own. Millennia ago, L'tirashin had known the kind of true love that bards across the multiverse sang about. For the briefest moment, the Night One, demon ruler of Demnos, felt herself on the very edge of tears, something that had not happened since. . .

Enough!!! L'tirashin commanded herself. Remember: he betrayed you!!!

The Temptress straightened herself on her regal seat, regaining the composure she had almost lost. That life was ancient history on a world that no longer existed; a fact she herself had made true. All that mattered was. . .now! And the future and her place in it. It was time for her to review her plans and. . .strike!!

As she lifted her enchanted staff, it glowed with a deep blue aura of power, streaked with veins of scarlet. A moment later, all five of the audience chamber's thirty-foot high doors slammed shut with deafening bangs and a like number of arm-sized keys turned themselves in their equally huge locks. L'tirashin then waved her magicked stave at the huge windows to her right. Rock suddenly materialized and sealed the openings from which she had enjoyed her earlier view of Xyn. Once assured of her desired privacy, L'tirashin finally summoned what she knew demanded such secrecy.

"Noakcha eeina shaamshi!" the Temptress commanded in the language of magic. The effect was immediate and breathtaking: in the middle of the vast chamber a ghostly and lucent image of the world of Tiaceor appeared. Each nation was represented by a different color and that country's capitol was displayed as a blue-white star. Amid the brightly colored hues, only one nation, a whole continent was shown in black: Eleasheua. Demnos. L'tirashin studied the phantom planet as it hung in mid-air, turning slowly and silently on its axis.

Yes. Far more important things to do, indeed.