A Lady Qandisa Tail: Last Rites

The sounds of flesh clapping together and sensual moans reverberated throughout the empty halls of the manor. Chalices of undrunk wine rippled and sloshed atop a lengthy dining room table with the remnants of several decadent meals clattering rhythmically with the used silverware.

One series of feminine gasps and moans laid over the muffled cries of another feminine voice in ecstasy and driven with the labored but passionate grunts of one other masculine voice.

A lean, bearded, silver-haired man was rutting in a steady frenzy as he gripped tight to a set of pale, plush hips. His fingers left pink and reddish marks where a blonde woman was bent before him and being bounced violently up and down the table.

Any indication of her disposition about her circumstances beyond the suppressed whimpers and wails she was giving off was further hidden between the thighs of a resplendently exotic, brown-skinned and raven-haired seductress.

The second vixen not being pounded into submission with cock sat upright on the table in front of the blonde; a bundle of golden locks in her hand as she pressed the screaming woman's face firmly against her nether-valley, stifling her cries with a mouthful of luscious labia and lustful juices. The dark-haired siren's head was thrown back as she absorbed the symphony of carnal elicitations around her.

The blonde doll was the first to come crashing down into climax, followed by her rigorous and masterful sexual puppeteer as his pace built to a rabid peak.

Listening and watching her two paramours lose their bearings made the ravishing Indian woman finally rumble into orgasm herself, despite the blonde's unfocused efforts to lap at the soaking wet vulva before her.

The trio of lovers came together mightily. As the brown vamp eased down from her peak, she found the man spasming, still thrusting deep inside her blonde companion while she convulsed in a drawn-out climax with him.

Once his climax had run its course, the distinguishedly aged man deftly collapsed backward into his opulent dining room chair. The quaking blonde's juices coated his still rigid cock as her contracting vaginal canal seemed to be trying to capture a considerable glob of semen that was near escaping her.

The man groaned before spitting "Giselle, you self-indulgent wench... You took too much!!" He rasped as if too weak to fully express his anger.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry, Master!" Giselle's voice quavered loudly as she had difficulty controlling its timbre through her aftershocks. "It just felt s-so good and I've been s-s-so hungry." she explained between spasms. Every incidental movement or sensation sent glorious jolts of pleasure through her sensitive loins; even speaking.

The brown woman petted the trembling blonde through her recovery. "Perhaps it is time to renew your protective seals, master." she suggested coolly.

The man leaned back in his chair, his lustrous gray hair draped over his shoulders as his head fell back against the high backrest. "Don't presume to patronize me, Chayanika." He huffed while still catching his breath. Your hunger should be all the more reason for you to be gracious when I allow you to feed; Seals notwithstanding.

Giselle prostrated herself once more as she was still bent over the dining room table curled in Chayanika's protective embrace.

"I do not mean to condescend, master," Chayanika replied. "But it has been some time since you've allowed us to feed. How can we be expected to keep control of our hunger with such tempting fare within our reach?" she reasoned with a hint of flattery.

"It is the prudent ant that stores its harvest for the season of scarcity." The old man lectured. "I will banish the two of you from Earth if you cannot contain yourselves."

The two women shuddered inwardly at the thought.

The old man seemed to had mustered the strength to sit up, admiring the round, blushing cheeks of Giselle's ass. A sheen of cold sweat caused her creamy skin to glow in the light of the candles and torches of the dinner hall. Her vaginal tunnel had finally shrunken to nearly a pinhole; her bright pink, swollen, and moist labia covered in the golden threads of her fine pubic hair.

The man reached up and swirled his thumb for a long, teasing moment around Giselle's still sensitive clitoris, forcing her trembling to renew in earnest and her moaning to rise once again as she clutched onto Chayanika.

"You aren't the only succubi who would seek to be in service to me. One even haunts my dreams of late to be freed into this world." He revealed.

Chayanika's expression subtly darkened as her master threw her and Giselle's expendability into their faces.

"Quite the exotic, she is, as well." He continued after rising up to take a chalice of wine.

"Not as conventionally attractive as your kind is customarily; She resembles as much of a black hog as a woman. But stunning in her beauty, nonetheless. Perhaps I may add her to your number to aid your accountability." he soliloquized offhandedly before downing the wine.

Giselle had gained enough of her bearings that she wasn't erratically swooning from her climax anymore. "I apologize, master! I will control my appetite in the future." She gingerly rolled over, leaning back on the table against Chayanika and keeping her thighs sufficiently parted that there was no further friction across her singing labia.

Chayanika caressed Giselle's ribs and abdomen and echoed Giselle's sentiment. "Our apologies, master. We will take care not to harm you again. Please, forgive us." Her tone was steady but sounded sincere.

"Besides," Giselle piped up. "The succubus you speak of may present a danger to us a-OOOWWW!!" Giselle was interrupted by a sharp pain in her nipple.

Chayanika had begun squeezing her breast and pinched the nipple. "I'm sorry, Giselle. Was that too hard for you?"

"It feels like you nearly snapped it off!" Giselle groused as she inspected the pink nub for markings.

Chayanika diverted. "It seems everyone is falling out of sorts. You should rest, master. As always, we will be at your service whenever you call." she pledged with a humble bow of her head. Her long, silky, black hair draped over one eye and fell back into place alongside her cheek when she raised her head again.

"Indeed. Be off, then." The man dismissed the two beauties.

Chayanika helped Giselle, who continued to gripe about her nipple, off the table. They dressed just enough to look decent walking out of the dining hall. They opted to finish donning the rest of their complex attire near the exit before leaving the manor.

Once reaching the antechamber out of earshot of the dining room, Giselle helped fasten Chayanika into her violet and midnight blue hooded gown.

"Sorry for hurting you back there." Chayanika apologized again. "But we should think better of warning our master about his precious new succubus." she warned.

"But are we not bound to protect him from harm?" Giselle reasoned as she shimmied into a similarly hooded green and yellow dress.

"Undoubtedly." Chayanika comfirmed. "And we may be better prepared to fulfill that duty if we weren't protecting him from her." she intimated.

"What are you proposing, Chaya, if not to fulfill our duty? It seems we will be doomed either way." Giselle fretted.

"What I propose," Chayanika began "is if the old fool believes he can tame The Gluttoness, let him try." She revealed as she helped fasten Giselle into her dress as well.

"If we warn him and he takes heed, he will call upon us to protect him from her and she may drain the three of us within the day." Chayanika cautioned.

"But if he tries to bind her, he won't be able to satisfy her alone and he's barely provided enough targets of late to sate our hunger."

Giselle began to understand Chayanika's idea.

"And she'll show no restraint in wearing through his protective seals, especially if he upsets her."

Giselle realized the natural conclusion. "And if she drains him while thinking he can control her, his death will break our binding to him!" she exclaimed, voice rising higher than their clandestine murmuring.

Chayanika hushed her excited companion. Giselle quickly adjusted as another thought came to her.

"But if he did call on us to protect him from her, she's been bound for over 1,200 years. She couldn't destroy us both by herself, could she?" Giselle pondered.

Chayanika's doubtful expression foreshadowed the answer. "If Lady Qandisa wants to devour him, there's nothing we could do to protect him. And if he's already dreamed of her, he's going to be one of her first."

Godfrey Muckle was nearing exhaustion having helped his widowed mother tend the village fields since dawn. It was made no less a burden, what with her abrasive tone of ordering him about and treating him like the clutz he'd long accepted he was.

The only saving grace was not often needing to deal with his peers at the market who often teased him about not being man enough to work the manor for the owner of the land, Lord Wesley, or maintaining the tools they used to plow their furlongs. Tending the fields was considered women's work and a kindly man who lived nearby helped keep their tools in good repair for Godfrey's lack of mechanical inclination.

Today's most recent run-in with the rabble at the markets was especially humiliating when Aldous, the chattiest one, began floating derisive rumors of Godfrey's mother taking to a neighboring village on weekends as a prostitute to supplement the inadequate tithes from their previous harvest.

All this in front of several other young men but, also, in front of a young maiden Godfrey had been pining for over several months named Saphirra. The name rang true to her bright blue eyes. Her golden hair was often covered by a scarf until recently when spring weather was beginning to break. She was still a bit pale from a long winter of cloudy skies but it took little away from the beauty that had captured Godfrey's heart from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.

Godfrey and Saphirra had only spoken once when they happened to cross paths at the market. After that chance meeting, Godfrey was made aware of her significant other who seemed capable of literally, as well as figuratively, dashing any possibility that he'd ever be able to do more than exchange a "how-do-you-do?" in passing.

The 22 year old Godfrey was fairly tall compared to the other young men in the village at 5'11", even though he tended to hunch. Saphirra's paramour, named Roland, towered over practically everyone at 6'4". Roland worked for his blacksmith father nearby the bakery where Saphirra came weekly for loaves to take home to her family.

Even as awkward as he was, when Godfrey happened to catch her glance and not bashfully look away in time, Saphirra would acknowledge his smile with a warm one of her own before continuing with her errands. It's the one thing that made Godfrey's own errand runs worth the ridicule he chanced any time he came to market. Although, normally, his tormentors didn't tend to find him at the same time as he was admiring the woman of his dreams.

That day, frail Godfrey just couldn't abide by this groups' routine heckling. Not before the woman he cherished most other than his mother; His mother who'd also now been made the butt of their jokes.

Godfrey held a stiff wicker basket he used to carry his goods home from market. It had become frayed from years of wear and exposure to the elements. Godfrey wasn't sure if swinging it at Aldous' big mouth would send him reeling over the table from where he jested or just give him a nasty scratch but Godfrey was prepared to find out that moment.

Godfrey reared back his left arm, the handle of the basket clenched firmly in his angry fist, and hurled the crackly container toward Aldous' face. Time seemed to slow for them both as Godfrey's attack approached making contact. Within an instant, just after Aldous' eyes had widened in dismay, Godfrey had completed the swing and was doubled over the table.

Godfrey gathered himself and realized Aldous had apparently vanished. As Godfrey whirled around to find where Aldous had gone, a fist made flush impact with his cheek sending him tumbling around the corner of the table.

After collapsing to the ground, Aldous and his band of ruffians began kicking and stomping Godfrey into the dirt. Godfrey curled up to protect the most vulnerable parts of his body as the onslaught proceeded.

The commotion around the conflict drew Saphirra back out of the bakery as she saw 4 men assaulting poor, helpless Godfrey on the ground. In the back of the crowd of onlookers, Saphirra's beau, Roland, stood laughing heartily at the scene. Saphirra implored him to step in and break up the fight but he dismissed her concern and remained in place, chuckling with his arms folded.

Saphirra glared at him in disappointment, then ran to protect Godfrey herself. She pushed her way between the stampeding scoundrels and tried to cover Godfrey with her own body while demanding the young men to end this cruelty.

Aldous looked as if he were about to reach for Saphirra and rough her up as well for disrupting their fun but not before glancing around to see if Roland was nearby. All doubt was erased as he watched Roland pushing through a row of bystanders to reach Saphirra and pull her up from Godfrey's battered form.

Saphirra tried to chastise Roland as he yanked her by the arm back through the crowd to his father's shop. Not more than a moment later, the Reeve had arrived to assess what all the confusion was about. Aldous and his crew backed away from Godfrey as he began gaining his feet.

The Reeve, known as Cedric, rounded the young men up, as he was aware of their reputation as troublemakers. He was also aware that Aldous' father owns the bakery, pays a hefty fee to be the only bakery, as well as a bountiful tithe each season that keeps him in the good graces of Lord Wesley.

Cedric turned to give Godfrey a fleeting looking over, taking pity on the young fool to have made such a powerful enemy. Godfrey nodded to Cedric as if answering the unspoken question of whether he was in good enough shape to get home on his own two feet.

"Go on, go home, boy." Cedric shooed Godfrey off. Godfrey found his basket, gathered the loaves of bread and other items he'd purchased that he could immediately find and sulked off toward the countryside alone.

Cedric turned to find Aldous and his mob of miscreants snickering to one another at their defeated victim's departure. Cedric glowered at the apparent ringleader, admonishing his behavior but making no threats of recompense for Aldous' transgression, having not witnessed the inciting incident firsthand. Aldous smirked as he and his comrades dispersed along with the crowd.

Godfrey nursed his aches as he trekked back to the modest abode that he shared with his mother. It was still early afternoon but he'd seen no trace of her upon observing their furlongs and seeing no one in the fields.

Odds were that his mother had already left for the next town for the weekend as she normally did. She told Godfrey that she goes every weekend to barter for wool to make new clothes, as they had to sell their last sheep to pay the coming season's tithe.

It would be nearly half a day's journey to reach town so she wouldn't return until evening that coming Sunday. There had been rumblings about her not being present in church for the past couple months and questions often fell on Godfrey to answer. He felt it was his duty, therefore, to increase his own presence in the church on her behalf and in her honor.

After storing away the goods he'd bought from market that day, Godfrey ventured off toward the church that lied Eastward from the market. It's steeple loomed high over a range of trees not far from Godfrey and his mother's dwelling. The building's stature may as well have been an avatar of God himself the way it stood as a constant reminder to mind one's morals. Lord Wesley and the local clergy devoted a great deal of the village's tithes to making it that way.

The late afternoon sun was just beginning it's long descent toward the horizon when Godfrey entered the great doorway of the church. As was normal this time of day and this day of the week, there were few people about within the halls of the great cathedral. Sparse members of the clergy tended to their separate duties; All lower in station than the high officials they answered to.

Godfrey finally happened across Friar Phineas, a familiar and friendly acquaintance at the church since Godfrey was a boy. They greeted between the pews of the reverberant hall as the sun shown in slivers between the openings of the high cathedral windows above the entrance.

"Dear, boy! How are you this fine afternoon? Friar Phineas embraced the young man.

"As well as can be expected." Godfrey answered, being reminded of his bumps and bruises from earlier. "I've come to pray and... To confess as well. Would you mind doing me the honor?"

Friar Phineas recoiled "Well, I can lead you in prayer, but... I'm no priest; hearing your confessions, I can't grant you absolution. You may be better served if you return when a higher clergyman is present."

"I'd be willing to pass on absolution today if it would avoid the confessor. No disrespect to him but he always seems as though he's looking down his nose at me when I go to confess with him." Godfrey explained.

"Well..." Friar Phineas began. "That wouldn't be the first I've heard of that." He looked around conspiratorially. "Very well. Head back to the confessional and I'll meet with you momentarily." He instructed. Relieved, Godfrey made his way past the pulpit toward the partitions that conceal the confessionals.

Godfrey sat in the dim, confined booth awaiting an audience with the Friar. Once Friar Phineas finally arrived, Godfrey sighed in preparation to unburden himself of his woes and misdeeds. He shared about his altercation with Aldous and his band of cronies first and foremost. He then began to confide much more intimate disclosures.

"I've had impure thoughts about a young maiden I meet at the market each week. I understand she is promised to be betrothed to another, Friar. But I have difficulty not thinking of her in my waking moments. Sometimes, even when I dream."

The good Friar gave a low hum In acknowledgement as he waited for Godfrey to continue. He seemed to already understand the sin of coveting a woman who belongs to another man. There was little advice that occurred to Phineas to share and ease Godfrey's secret burden.

"I've also felt tormented as of late in the wee hours while I sleep. I believe I've been set upon by a demon." Godfrey divulged. Friar Phineas' eyebrows raised at the revelation.

"A demon, you say?" the Friar probed.

"I wish I had more to tell you." Godfrey replied. "All I know is that I've had dreams of being seduced by a mesmerizing woman the likes of which I've never seen."

The Friar's interest was further piqued. He subtly leaned in while listening to Godfrey's worries. "Go on, my son. Did you clearly envision this temptress?"

Godfrey seemed conflicted about conjuring her image in his mind again, obscurely as he could recall it.

"She is an... Ample... Moorish woman. Skin as black as the void. But eyes that burn like the sun." Godfrey described.

"She beckons me to touch her," he continued. "So wantonly. And I know it's a sin to bed a woman before we are wed... But this strange woman is difficult to resist."

The Friar nodded, only being able to visualize his own interpretation of what Godfrey had experienced.

"But what frightens me most," Godfrey concluded. "is that when I manage to resist; escape her clutches... I awaken, but can't open my eyes. I can't move a muscle. It's as if her massive bosom are as stones upon my chest holding me in place."