Curse of the Dark Lord

Pella leant forward and gently took the ring. She shivered as though feeling strange eyes on her back.

"Put it on," said the Princess. "Try it."

Pella looked up at the blonde girl as a strange expression- predatory and expectant- stole across her face. She felt another shiver run up her back and wondered about the best way to politely decline-

Put me on.

-which was silly, really. Just because she felt a little uncertain-

Put me on.

--it was nothing, only she felt like something wasn't right, like there was-

Put me on.

-but it was a pretty ring, so pretty, and she should try it on, shouldn't she? She should-

Put me on.

She slid the ring on her finger and felt a wave of calm wash over her. So silly of her to worry, wasn't it? So silly of her to think that her husband's sister would-

Listen to me girl. Listen to my words in your mind. Listen and let them become your words. Your thoughts. Your beliefs. Your will.

She moaned, her eyes fluttering, her body shuddering. One of her hands moved to grab the ring and wrest it off her finger, only to be stopped. She blinked and looked up at Princess Myral as the woman murmured something soft and soothing but Pella couldn't hear her over-

You belong to the Dark Lord Devon. Pella blinked at the words, so soft and gentle and sweet as they melted their way into her mind. There were hands on her shoulders; Myral's maid? She moved to push her away. She was a Duchess of the Southern Lands-

You are a slave of the Dark Lord Devon. Feminine whispers in her mind, joined by the pair of women as they crouched next to her like cats that had caught their mouse; all of them gently unravelling her will, as sweet and as intoxicating as a stolen kiss. No, she was the wife of-

You are the slut of the Dark Lord Devon. Pella's body throbbed at the lewd images that accompanied the words, a sudden heat swelling between her legs. She did not resist as the maid pushed down her dress's bodice, fingers moving to pinch and stroke her dark nipples or as her sister-in law eased her fingers up her skirts, seeking out her hot wet core... no, she had a duty-

You are loyal to the Dark Lord Devon. And she moaned helplessly as her body and mind were assailed, as her will was twisted and corrupted.

Listen to me, of the Dark Lord Devon...

Pella was virtuous. Pella was dutiful. Pella cared for her husband. Pella would not succumb easily or quickly.

That was alright. Myral had arranged for their meeting to be uninterrupted for hours.

***

When Devon heard a knock on his door that night he expected...well, he knew what he hoped for. Milly's behaviour had, in the bright light of day, made more sense. The girl had always been a little shy- was it so strange that she might have secretly harboured some affection for him? An affection that she might have felt an urge to act on, given his impending departure?

And, a big part of him wondered, might she be coming back?

That was why he lay awake that night and why, when he heard a furtive knock, he got up quickly to open the door-

-to reveal his older sister, Enya.

Enya strode into the room without so much as a greeting. "Did you go back into the forbidden room?"

"Sorry?"

"Did you," his elder sister spat out the words, "go and break into the forbidden room?"

"No." He saw her expression and added, "I haven't! I swear! Why do you ask?"

"Something's changed," she said. "I have spent all days consulting my oracles. Stars that once aligned with our family are now in discordance. Prophecies speak of doom. Of death and treachery. Of the Dark Lord's return, Devon." She stepped forwards him, her blue eyes blazing. "Now I ask you again- what did you do?"

"I did nothing! I swear!"

"Devon. You are my younger brother. I have watched you grow from a baby. I have worked to protect you in ways you cannot possibly comprehend. But if it comes to a choice between you or the kingdom..." She leant forward. "Please. Give me something. Or else I must take this to our father."

"I didn't do anything- wait. I took a ring."

"A ring?"

"An old, tarnished ring. From his study. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I didn't even remember until dinner."

"Where is the ring now?"

"I don't know. I lost it soon after. But it's just a ring-"

Enya abruptly strode away. "The Dark Lord was served by all manner of foul spirits and beings. Not all of these had physical form, Devon. Some of them were immaterial things, acting through rituals. Or relics." She reached out to touch Devon's arm. "We need to find that ring. If you see anyone- absolutely anyone- wearing it or acting strangely, you must tell me- immediately."

"I understand."

"Good." And she turned and strode out of the room, her cowl affixed back in place. "Hurry, Devon. Lest I be forced to make...choices."

Devon sat on the bed. Suddenly the idea of exile didn't sound like the worst thing that could have happened to him. Was...was this the right decision? Was him being sent away actually for the best if the alternative was-

There was another knock on the door. Devon rose, sighing. "Milly, I-"

"Were you expecting Milly? Whatever for?"

"Oh." Devon smiled at Myral. His younger sister was wrapped up in grey robes, her unbound hair cascading down her face. "Um...no reason."

"Was that Enya I spied leaving your chambers? What did she want?"

She wanted to tell me that I may be killed out of suspicion of being a monster. "She just wanted to make sure everything was alright for the trip. That I didn't have any doubts or second thoughts."

"Hmm." An uncharacteristically sly look crossed his sister's face. "And do you?"

"I wish I wasn't going. You know that. But she's made it clear that..."

"She's made it clear that it's set in stone?" Myral leaned forward, her voice pitched into a strange purr. "I think you'll find, oh Brother Mine, that a great many things you thought impossible are very much within your reach. Come with me."

She led him through a palace preparing to sleep. They reached the palace gardens where his sister led him to the maze. Within moments the two of them were deep in the dark, bramble- laced walls. There was no light other than the silver gleam of the moon.

"What is this?" Devon asked, unease touching his voice.

"A surprise," she said. "And a most welcome one. I had an interesting conversation with Pella today."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. She mentioned regret at the way that things had fallen out between you two."

"What had happened? What had happened is that she married my brother with every appearance of enjoying it thoroughly." Bright Gods, why had he really confessed his feelings to Myral back when Pella had first arrived?

"Precisely." And his sister turned a corner to reach the centre of the maze.

The moon was bright in the sky. It cast a soft silver glow on the entire scene in front of Devon, who stood there, slack-jawed.

Pella sat atop a small bench that sat in the centre of the maze. She was dressed in silks of dark red, their lush colour contrasting against her honey skin. The silks were thin to the point of transparency, and Devon could see the outline of her dark nipples through the sheer fabric.

"Hello, oh Lord Mine," the dark-haired beauty murmured. "I was hoping you would come." She rose from the bench and walked over. "I wanted to let you know what I thought of your shameful exile."

"Oh?" He managed to stammer out.

She smiled. "I think it foolish." She slid slowly to her knees in one fluid motion, smiling wickedly up at Devon. "I think it the decision of a stupid man." Her hands moved to his belt, fingers moving swiftly and surely. "I think that you belong here." His cock spilled out, growing hard, and she licked her lips. "I think you deserve to rule."

"What about Morden?"

"My worthless husband has already left for the border. The stupid oaf left me alone with you- what did he expect to happen? No, Devon. Do not think of that sad, pathetic fool. I do not belong to him. I belong to you."

Devon opened his mouth to argue. To point out that it was her husband- the military hero- who was heir; that as things were she would be queen. That her behaviour was not merely strange but utterly bizarre. But then her lips- hot and wet- slid around the head of his cock and all that came out of his mouth was a gasp of pleasure.

The Duchess of the Southern Lands and the Wife of the King to be swallowed her brother-in-law's cock without hesitation or shame, her tongue dancing along his length as she pleasured him. As she worshipped his cock she pulled her silks down, baring her full dark breasts for him. As he reached down to tentatively grope those full orbs and she wrapped her hands around his, tightening his grip on her warm, soft flesh.

The Duchess's head bobbed back and forth along the Prince's cock. Pella had always been reserved around Devon; polite and gentle, if somewhat standoffish. But now she seemed a woman transformed, shameless and wild in her appetites. He stared down at her in the pale moonlight and a sudden lust surged through him.

He gently reached down to tangle his hands through her hair as his hips thrust forward. His cock-head brushed against the back of her throat. If she felt any discomfort or surprise at his actions she gave no indication, loyally allowing him to fuck her face. She looked up and he stared straight into her hot dark eyes, brimming with submissive desire, as drool trickled down her chin.

Devon felt something wild and dark fill his mind as she pulled her face away, laughing with joy as his seed shot onto her face and breasts. The young Duchess knelt, her eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her face as his cum anointed her body.

Devon heard a voice; some dark and deep growl. "Undress." With a sudden start he realised it belonged to him. Something like satisfaction surged into Pella's eyes as she stripped off the remainder of her silks, revealing more of her dusky curves. She leant back on the grass, her legs spread wide, her naked body open and eager for him.

He moved without thinking, mounting atop of his brother's wife. His cock was stiff again; he felt as if he hadn't had release for a week rather than having his appetites sated moments ago. He growled as lined up and plunged into her cunt.

Devon fucked her in a frenzy, years of repressed lust and anger at his brother channelled into violent, brutal thrusts. He made no effort for her pleasure and yet she still shuddered and panted and moaned, hot-eyed and eager, as she clawed his back. Their grunts and pants filled the centre of the maze. He swooped down to claim her lips and she passionately kissed him back, their tongues duelling.

His cock sped up as he felt his passion peaking and then he burst into her, his seed rushing into her womb. She clutched him tight and cried out in ecstasy, legs tightening around his waist as he pumped into her. The two of them lay panting against one another, the mutual afterglow leaving them hazy with warmth.

There was a sound behind him; a moan and a gasp. Blinking, he looked up.

His younger sister knelt in the grass not ten feet away. Her robes lay on the ground and for a moment he forgot their familial relationship while he stared at her lush body. Her blonde hair spilled around her head like a halo and her small, pert breasts heaved as her fingers rubbed lewdly between her legs. Her eyes burned with a fey light as she licked her lips. "So wonderful," she breathed. "So masterly. You claimed her as your slut, oh Lord Mine. You bred her as your woman. Take me too! Take me and make me your property!"

"Myral?" Devon felt an awful cold horror steal over his body. He rose, trying to untangle himself from Pella, who clutched him close. "You have the right," the voluptuous honey-skinned woman murmured as he rose, "Every woman in this kingdom is yours to claim by right of conquest."

"Right of conquest?" He shuddered as his naked sister drifted closer to him, her blue eyes burning.

"This kingdom is yours," she whispered. "All of it, oh Lord Mine. All you have to do is reach out," one of her hands clasped around his, and moved it to her warm breast, "is claim it..."

"Myral..." Devon whispered as she leant forward, her lips parting. "Myral, wait..."

Then her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and her lips were pressing against his. He felt a sudden throb of violent need- stronger than with Pella, stronger than anything he could have imagined- and he was suddenly filled with the urge to push her down, to fuck her like he did his sister-in-law, to claim his sister's body and soul-

He jerked away, pushing himself out of her arms. He staggered back as Pella and Myral both let out cries. "Wait! Don't go!"

Devon fled, his clothes bunched up in one hand. He ran through the maze, leaving behind his sister and his sister-in-law as they called out for him to return to them. He didn't stop until he burst out of the entrance, his naked body covered in scratches and dirt.

***

Enya woke at the frantic knocking on her door. She rose from her bed and threw on a robe. "Who is that?" she called, tentatively.

"Devon. I need you to open up. We need to talk."

Enya opened her door and let her brother in. "What is it?"

Devon stepped into the room. He looked wild. His hair was mattered and his clothes were rumpled. He stunk of- he stunk of sex, Enya realised, shocked at the thought of her quiet scholar-brother with a girl. "You were right. There is something affecting the people of this Palace. Something twisting them..." He shuddered. "Something making them behave strangely."

"I see." She allowed her brother into the room before closing the door. "What happened?"

"I- I had an encounter with someone."

Enya couldn't keep the impatience out of her voice. "What sort of encounter?"

"They-" He froze. "They offered their body to me."

Enya scoffed. "If you've really wasted my time with some story about how you tupped a maid-"

"Listen," he said. "They talked about my conquering the kingdom. They called me 'Oh Lord Mine.'" He shuddered. "And they acted...they didn't act like they normally did. They acted as though entranced."

"I see." Enya closed her eyes for a heartbeat. "Who were they?"

Devon paused.

"Quickly!" Enya snapped. "I need to know who this is!"

Devon turned away from her. "They're not themselves."

"So?" Enya nearly shouted. "All the more important that we stop them!"

"Stop them?"

Enya narrowed her eyes. "They are a threat to the kingdom, Devon. They need to be captured and dealt with."

Devon spun around and the look on his face made her step back. "We are talking about-"

"About who?" He did not answer. His muscles tensed and she felt a shiver of unease. "If you don't tell me, if you don't give me the names of the traitors, my hand will be forced. I will go to see your father, Devon. Your King. And I will tell him about your unwillingness to give me the names of these traitors."

All of a sudden his eyes blazed with a terrible light. His hand gripped her wrist and for a moment she felt a shock of fear of her pale, scholarly brother; fear and a thrill of something else that she dare not comprehend. But Devon merely turned and stormed out of her room. She stood in the dark, uncertain of what to do next.

***

Enya walked into the King's chambers, dressed in her astrologer's robes. She'd taken too long, she knew. She'd agonised over the news that there were traitors in the Palace. Agonised over the choice that she knew she had to make. Her brother knew. Knew of the identities of agents of the Dark Lord- his agents- and had done nothing.

And neither had she. She knew what she had to do. She knew she had no choice. And yet she had dithered, wasting the morning hoping that her brother would come around to his senses. That he would do the right thing.

Instead he'd remained stubborn. Talked about finding the ring and 'solving everything himself'. As though the ring was the cause of this madness.

No, the cause of this madness was him.

She entered her father's private chambers. She would talk to her father. Beg him to capture Devon rather than kill him. When he was in custody, he would be made to see reason. Give up the identities of the people responsible. He would still be sent away rather than killed-

"My daughter."

She bowed low at the sight of the Queen. "Your Highness. Is the King not here?"

Her mother smiled that cold smile of hers. "He has been called away. You may speak to me on his behalf."

Enya rose, her eyes still lowered. "I have- I have disturbing news to report concerning the Prince Devon. I have reason..." she took a deep breath. "I have reason to believe that what we feared has come to pass."

"Oh?" Her mother sighed, her hands folded. "I had thought sending him away would avert the prophecy."

Enya shook her head. "I had hoped...it looks as though the curse preceded us. It would seem his mere presence in this Palace has begun to work a corruptive influence."

"Oh? He is that powerful?" Her mother's blue eyes were grave.

"Yes. I fear that we have no other recourse but to-"

"That potent?" Her mother's voice dropped to a strange purr. "That masterful? What else did you expect?"

Enya's eyes narrowed as she stepped back. "What do you mean?"

Her mother rose from her throne, stalking towards her. "What else did you expect from such a man? A man you know is fated to conquer us?" Her eyes burned with a terrible intensity. "To conquer you?" She whispered in a harsh hiss. "Did you think that you could really stand against him, with your silly little prophecies?"

Enya turned to run for the door but it opened to let in a swarm of women. Myral. Pella. Others too, maids and female guardsmen; a dozen or so of them, all with the same terrible expression of eager lust on their faces. They snatched her and pinned her down, ripping her robes from her body. Within moments she was open and exposed, a gag of her own undergarments used to stop her cries. The women of the palace laughed as they molested her, their hands roaming to cup her breasts, to pinch her ass, to slither between her legs.

Her mother kept talking. "Oh, don't feel too bad. Myral and Pella came and explained what had happened early this morning. I didn't believe them- not until they showed me this beautiful ring." She held up the silver ring, the red gemstone glowing with a terrible light. "And then when I communed with the spirit within... well, I finally understood how badly I've neglected my son." She licked her lips. "Oh, to be the mother of a conqueror! To be the breeding slut of a king!" She moaned, one hand moving to dig into the swell of her breast. "Both shall be my destiny...and the last, yours as well." She cupped Enya's chin as she breathed into her ear, "Your gift of prophecy and keen intellect will serve him well...as will your lush and fertile body."

And she slid the ring onto Enya's trapped, trembling fingers.

Enya screamed. She thrashed and she fought. She tried to ignore the soft, seductive voice that whispered in her mind. But there were hands and lips on her body that worked in awful tandem to the murmurs, dragging her down into the dark depths of lust as she felt her will slowly melt away into scattered fragments that drifted in a sea of pleasure...

And obedience.

***

Prince Devon stood to attention and waited for the blow to fall.

It had been a full day since his own sister had threatened him with doom if he did not give up Myral and Pella up as sacrifices. A day spent avoiding both his sisters as he scoured the palace for the ring. Now he was being summoned to the throne room for a 'private session'. He wondered if he would be sent to the Tomb Lands in chains. If he went at all. If he might be quietly disposed of or executed in public by his family for a crime he had never intended to commit. The guards on either side of him made no comment, the women lowering their eyes as though affecting some strange display of submission. Probably had been told not to make eye contact with him, lest they become corrupted.