Daiz of Destruction Pt. 01-04

My right hand shakes, slowing at first, 10, 15, 20 times a second, oscillating the physical air of the room. At the same time, with each wave, I send a mental pulse through the weave. Faster and faster, and the waves enter the humanoid hearing range. The vibrating groan of a rock elemental waking, faster and higher, the sound of a dwarf laughing, slowly creeping through the frequencies and all the while scanning the room.

Detecting any permanently woven magic whose presence, either by its nature or malice is obscured such as a tether or an explosive glyph, is in theory a simple process. A stable weave resonates with the energy contained within. If the resonance frequency of the enchantment is known, it can be amplified within the weave, and if at the same time in the physical plane matter is agitated to the same frequency then a harmonic bridge is formed, causing energy from the weave to traverse into the physical plane in the form of light. In layman's terms you make the enchant item glow in the real world.

Following that logic if the resonance frequency isn't known, working your way through the spectrum will reveal any magic not normally visible in the weave. A simply theory, but complex in practice and exponentially trickier as the frequencies climb. This means a more capable weave crafter can purposefully imbue their enchantment with more psychic energy than the spell requires, upping is resonance frequency and making it harder to detect.

At 330Hz the wards in the walls glow, nothing unexpected and no time to admire the craftmanship. The walls fade and as I hit the 400's the filigree on the mirror shines to life, elvish glyphs, an expensive import. They fade and nothing until the 900Hz range, when the Soulsilver threads shimmer from beneath the muck stained corset.

Into the kilohertz range and the sound is getting sharper, glass goblets on the dinning table start to rattle, yet another expense no doubt. The compact glows and the thin gossamer conduit which binds it to its partner mirror glows too, a thin line in space heads eastward towards the Order's Sanctum where Kobol is currently under 'House Arrest'. The squeal of Gnomish opera, higher still, the sound an elf makes when she squirts all over your face, the goblets shatter and we're out of humanoid hearing range and still no unaccounted glow.

Passing 2Khz and a line appears from me to the tendril, that's my tether which I use to psychically command the tentacle. There are terrifying levels of psychic energy contained in the layers of enchantments, wards, daemons, syphons, reservoirs and more that were required to manipulate the flesh of a dead god. As such the controlling tether required equally power energies. I force myself not to reminisce of the sex toy's creation or contemplate the area of effect if its complex weave matrix was to ever collapse (bye-bye Duh'ran), and keep focusing on finding the scry.

For a moment I'm ready to dismiss the feeling as paranoia, my hand it trembling three thousand times a second and my mind is burning from the rapid pulses of psychic energy. Only a handful of the arcane elite can construct permanent weaves at these frequencies.

I reach 3.14Khz and a thin line of light from Ku'Tharn's tentacle appears leading off to the east. I completely stop, standing as rigid and motionless as the tendril on top of my travel case. Panting from the physical and mental exhaustion, I'm barely aware of the light trail fading behind it. Transfixed, not on its shimmering otherworldly surface but at a point beyond the abyss, into the unseen gaze of my known voyeur. I slow my breath and recovering my composure, eyes locked to those of my hidden viewer I start to slowly rock, provocatively swaying my body for his enjoyment.

Of those capable of creating this kind of tether, only one had the opportunity to bind it to the god flesh. In fact, he had countless such opportunities as we collaborated to defile the remains of "The Great Defiler Ku'Tharn". The challenge of animating a slab of negative energy god flesh, required access to texts and artefacts so forbidden even the act of imagining if such items existed would have had you burned at the stake. These unholiest of grails were secured in the deepest Vaults of the Order of Solace, and only the most revered and trusted of the order could possibly gain access. Like a someone, who might have just recently saved the world, and possibly blinded several thousand people while doing it.

Turns out Kobol wasn't as virtuous as people believed.

Part 4 - Teasing

I bring my hair forward over my shoulders to trail down my chest and framing my deep cleavage. Still swaying in front of the tendril I slowly unbutton the blouse, past the curve of gently swinging breasts, past my navel, then slowly tease the fabric from under my belt. For a moment I leave the soft cotton garment to cling to my breasts, the friction of their curves being the only thing stopping the shirt from falling to the floor.

Gravity finally wins and it drops to the floor, my pink hair remains draped over my breasts robbing Kobol of the view he most desired. I continue suggestively swaying, the motion brings my hair tantalisingly close to revealing more.

I accentuate my movement, hair, hips and hooters swaying with more vigour. Was that a glimpse of areola or just a shadow of candle light, a nipple peaking through the pink locks or just a bit of Lich brain I had missed. Sure, I could 'will' my hair in place, ensure I stayed covered, but the thrill, the anticipation was as much for me as it was for Kobol.

I turn sharply, 180 degrees and pink hair flies free from my chest fully exposing my white soft breasts, but the move was fast and unexpected, giving Kobol no time or opportunity to see more than a blur. The sudden stop yanks painfully on my chest, I bite it back and peer playfully over my shoulder at the black mass. Hair swept forward from the spin, Kobol can see the length of my back, my slender waist and the ample curve of my ass under the rustic fabric.

Eyes locked on the source of the scry, I unclasp my belt and slowly tease the skirt from my hips. Gently, inch by inch, the dusky red fabric is eased over soft flesh. I stop midway letting the skirts belt line squeeze my buttocks together. Slightly leaning forward, I step back still swaying my hips like a metronome, with each sway I feel the dress slip further down.

I'm close to my travel chest, 2 foot away at most, gyrating my ass right in front of where the scry is tethered, Kobol getting a full view of the slowly revealing buttocks. And with a little push and a shake, the dress falls to the floor to reveal my completely naked rear. I had purposefully slid my lace underwear down with the dress.

I imagine the view from the scry, my full round bottom filling his entire mind's eye. Front and centre and still wiggling as I dance my puckered anus. I imagine his face there, my sensitive sphincter an inch from the dark skin of his nose, the feel of his breath caressing my cheeks, the sound of him moistening his lips as he thinks about licking the pinkish lips of my labia. And for a moment, as I dance, I'm not sure if the sensation of breath between my legs is as imaginary I as thought.

I straighten, cheeks closing together to hide my little hole and walk forward. Still rocking and swaying like a mesmerist's watch with my back to the magical peep hole. Making my way to the bubble filled bath, I perch on the side ready to swivel in to the deep basin. I keep my torso turned away, only giving the slightest show of my round breasts. Twisting, and pointing toes out, I bring my legs up and over the side of the bath, being careful not to turn my body to reveal too much. Lowering my legs carefully into its warm waters, I find its cooled, I spent longer to tracing the tether than I thought.

Standing in the giant basin, I flip my hair behind me then lean forward giving a Kobol a glorious view of my buttocks. I turn the hot tap, a cascade of hot water and billow of steam. A glance behind me through the weave, no sign of the scry projecting from the tentacle, his view staying exactly as I want it.

Scooping a huge mound of bubbles, I make a show of lathering my unseen breasts, slick hands sliding over the soft skin around my nipples and sending sparks though me. With one hand still slipping around my bubbly love bubbles I bring my right hand slowly down over my navel and towards my crotch. Fingers run though a triangular patch of vibrant pink curls and between my sodden snatch. I'm wet, not from the bubbles or sweat or steam, but with sex. I'm exquisitely turned on, hotter and hornier than I've ever been in my life.

From the second I realised who was watching me, I understood the 'why' and the blood started flowing, tingling and engorging my clit. As I swayed, tempting him, the silk of my pants rubbed and sent sparks between my legs. Every sensual movement making me hornier and wetter, the thought of him silently watching, his own member getting engorged, tight and trapped under his priestly robe turned me on. By the time I slid my dress off, bringing my arse and glistening cunt for him to see, I had already felt dribbles of my warm sticky heat drip down my legs.

The 'why'? I slide two fingers inside myself, buckling slightly with the pure erotic pleasure, the bath is getting hot and I'm oblivious as I massage the slick sensitive sides of my snatch. The 'why'? This is MY fantasy, my deep desire to be watched as I fuck myself.

Kobol knew this, I told him, and not just through the open invitation with the compact. I used to torment him with vivid descriptions of my deepest fantasies. I loved to watch him squirm as we worked together, researching Ku'Tharns cut appendage. Oh, it was barely visible, a tiny shift or adjustment of his robes, but inside... as he visualised the various depraved and erotic acts I wanted done to me... he was squirming like a bag of snakes. But always in silence. He would listen while we worked, and I'd watch for the that little flicker of movement as he reached for his quill or turned a page. He too, was aroused by the ideas. Week after week, deeper, darker and more vivid came my ideas, and quicker came that tell tale bulge. Little did I know he had carefully planned to enact my fantasies.

And as I bend fully over, flicking the hot tap off and steadying myself with the stone side of the bath, I drop all pretence of hiding or playing coy. Fingers furiously rubbing deep inside me, slick juices splatting on the bubbles below, I wonder... How far will he go, at which dark fantasy will he stop at, or will he stop, how perverted is this priest?

Fingers curled forward, I massage deep into the inner flesh of my clit while my thumb rolls around its engorged nub outside. Faster and more furious, I slide a third finger inside me, as I imagine Kobol behind me, parting my cheeks, pushing his thick black cock into my tiny hole, his flesh painfully pulling my arse open as I fuck myself with my fingers.

The imagined sensation was enough to send me over the edge, I feel the walls of my cunt spasm around my three fingers as a jet of salty sweet hot sex sprays over my palm and splashes on the bubbles below.

I've dropped to my knees, the bubbles covering my chest and upto my chin. Panting deeply, I turn over to sit in the hot waters. It stings my pussy from where I've rubbed it raw, I gasp and enjoy the sensation is the heat ebbs through me.

I settle back, and peering through the steam towards the travel chest I'm suddenly aware how dark the room has become. Candles extinguished, the only light and ember glow from the settled fire. I can make out the candelabra near the fire, plenty of wax left, so why is it extinguished. I can barely make out another candle from the dull light near the window. Again, almost a whole candle.

Elemental flash when I orgasmed? Possibly, it's happened before, bit of an 'occupational hazard' I suppose, and I did cum hard, so it could be that.

I peer back to the top of the travel case, wanting to lock eyes with my pervert of a priest. My eyes, now adjusted to the dark, makes out the silhouette of the wooden base but no tentacle. I stare at the empty space for moment, then around the room. The only body here is mine.

I allow myself to sink into the water, face just above the surface breathing in the scented steam. Watching the fire light dance long shadows on the carved stone ceiling my mind races towards the single inevitable conclusion.

Kobol doesn't just have a scry bound to Ku'Tharn's flesh, his tether is woven into the same daemons we had created for me to control the tentacle. It obeys his will, just as it obeys mine. I dip my face beneath the water's surface, the heat like a thousand little pins on my face. And for a brief moment the water feels like ice, and goosebumps spread across my body.

I slide backwards, bringing my head out of the water, its heat returning and my skin relaxing. The anticipation and excitement of a deep desire about to be fulfilled is mixed with more than a little fear. Kobol's tether is so much stronger than my weave, when... if, it came to who's will the tentacle will follow, I don't think it will be mine.

I take the sponge, and slowly clean away the grime and sweat of the last 48 hours. My mind races with what the next few hours will entail. I feel him watching me, from some dark corner, and it makes me breathless. I make a display of soaping my legs, arms, breasts.

After thoroughly bathing to ensure I'm fully free of any residual lich parts, I slowly walk naked to the fire to dry myself off. I 'feel' the movement of something in the shadows as the fires heat radiates over me but I see nothing. I remind myself, I asked for this, day after day I gave him my darkest desires. I gave him my permission, yes it was game, but there was little doubt at the time how explicit or real the consent was. I wanted him to ravish me and I gave him my permission to do just that. Then. Is that what he's waiting for?

"I want it" I say, barely over a whisper.

"I want it," a little louder, a little more confident, "I want it, all of it, everything I told you, take me... use me."

The room is still, silent save the crackle of the fire, even the storm outside has died to a breeze.

"Please" I plead.

And with that, the darkness of the room shifted, like a receding tide it ebbed away from me, condensing in the furthest corner. As the darkness rolled away I see the flames of candle sticks once more. They had never been extinguished, the living darkness of Ku'Tharn had enveloped the entire room, subjugating their light. The tendril wasn't hidden, it was all around me. The shadows, twist and weave into a shadowy writhing formless mass of tendrils, some long and thin like ropes, others thick and pulsating like an ox tongue. I watch, eager and horrified, as the shapeless mass wraps over itself and tendrils weave together to form a shape, a body. Standing there, naked and a black as the void was a simulacrum of Kobol.

"Kneel", it an echo his voice. Calm, commanding, and yet terrifyingly wrong.

Kneeling in front of the fire, I am truly powerless over what is about to happen and yet I've never felt so free.