Embrace of the Goddess Ch. 07

Chapter 7: Rella & The Demon

Rella

Dust flew through air as the stack of books in Rella's arms tumbled over the desk.

"Goodness," whispered the young woman. She looked around the private study room in the library but didn't spot any of the dryads that roamed around to help people. She pulled her veil aside and carefully coughed into her fist before putting the veil back in place. Then she quickly went about picking up and re-stacking the four thick tomes she brought with her: Maloth and Azora, The Twin's War, The Age of Darkness, and In Defense of Chastity. She had been through these books before, but her research was coming up short. She didn't want to disappoint Iriel and admit that no one had done much work in recording the workings or worship of Maloth. Neither did she want to admit the other possibility: that someone had destroyed all those books.

"Are you alright?" sang a voice from behind her.

Rella spun and caught sight of one of Iriel's liberated dryads. She was conscientious of keeping her eyes up, looking straight into the nymph's eyes. Her skin was a pale and sickly green — especially in contrast with her shining verdant eyes — and her hair was a lush and wavy red.

"Um, yes. Quite alright." Rella swallowed and turned back to her books. "Just dropped a few books."

"Are they alright?" The dryad stepped closer and put her hand on Rella's shoulder. The acolyte shrugged a shoulder unconsciously and let the hand fall away.

"The books are fine. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Is there any other way I can service you?"

"Sweet Dawn," whispered Rella. "No. Thank you. Good day."

"Good day." The nymph walked away, and Rella waited until the sound of leaves gently swaying and the smell of the sickly sweet perfume faded before relaxing. It didn't matter how right Iriel was in freeing the nymphs, they made Rella uncomfortable.

"Forgive me for my unbelief," prayed the girl. This was a new area for her repentance, and all repentance would lead her closer to the goddess.

Rella focused on cleaning the dust with a cloth especially made for doing so. It was a little ritual that helped her focus on why she was doing this. She entered the darkness in service of the light. If she started pure, she was more likely to end pure. She had the blessing of the High Priestess of Azora. No befoulment would corrupt her here, in the Abbey of Azora. She was more faithful than any of the other acolytes. They had forgotten the heritage of the full veil, of hiding their body from the eyes of any but Azora. Instead they walked freely among the filthy dryads — free though they may be — and Rella saw the way her sisters' eyes lingered on the bodies of the dryads. The Abbey was sick with the temptation of debauchery, but Rella would not crumble. She would find the answers in these dark times and save them all.

As she cleaned, Rella found a wrinkled piece of paper shoved into one corner. She didn't recognize it and unfolded it carefully. It read, "I hope you find the text I sent you helpful. Please be careful with them. - Arabo."

Rella gasped. She had sent a message to Arabo the Mind Mage weeks ago for a text on Maloth. He was an Arbiter of Archives and Mass Memory. If anyone could find a secret in all of creation, it would be him. But his book had never arrived, so how did she have his note? And here, crumpled in the corner of her desk?

Rella rose and stormed out of her study nook, heading to the front desk of the archives. There, a dryad sat with her long legs up on the desk, laughing and chatting with another dryad bent over suggestively.

Rella lifted her eyes up to the cavern ceiling. In the eyes of Azora, judgement was as foul as licentiousness. Rella cleared her throat and slowly lowered her eyes to rest firmly at eye level with the dryad not bent over like a slut.

Forgive me, thought Rella.

The dryads ignored her, so Rella stepped up closer, her thick thigh pressing against the desk. There's no way they could ignore her in a heavy white veil that covered her head to toe.

"Excuse me?" she whispered.

"Then I showed her that you can thicken and strengthen a vine until it's more like a branch," said the dryad to the other. They both laughed, and Rella's cheeks warmed with shame and embarrassment.

"Excuse me!" she snapped.

The dryad behind the desk lazily turned to look at Rella. "Yes?"

"I placed an order from Arabo the Mind Mage in Oraster a few weeks ago."

"Yeah?"

"I have reason to believe my order has arrived. Can you check please?"

"Right away," said the dryad. She bent down to search through something, and as Rella's eyes followed her, they accidentally drank in the curves of both nymphs. They only had leaves to cover the absolute bare minimum of flesh: in this case it was nipples. It was worse than nudity in Rella's opinion, and her eyes darted back up the ceiling as she prayed over and over for forgiveness.

This is the problem with sluts, thought Rella. They make sinners out of all that behold them.

Then she prayed for forgiveness again, for judging the nymphs. But before she could get through her seventh Azora's Hymn, the dryad pulled up a thick book and slammed it on the desk without any care for how ancient they were.

"This it?" she asked.

Rella looked down, making sure to keep her eyes away from the dryad's chest only to catch sight of the bare bottom of the dryad bent over. Dawn, forgive me, she thought as she finally beheld the text on the desk.

She gasped and almost stepped back when she saw the cover of the book. It was the correct title — The Rites of Debauchery — but this book had artwork on the cover. And such artwork! Two women had a third bound to a table. All of them were nude. One woman had a flail, and the woman on the table had red welts and stripes all along her back. The other woman had something strapped between her legs and was preparing to ... to ...

Rella couldn't think it. The warmth that flooded her cheeks spread down her neck and over the rest of her body. Goosebumps spread everywhere, and her fingers tingled with a supernatural cold. This book was evil. She was surer of it than of anything else in her life. Perhaps she was even more sure of this book's evil than Azora's goodness.

"Beautiful artwork," said one dryad as she ran her hand over the cover.

"Don't touch it," hissed Rella. "Did it come with a cloth for protection?"

"Let me check."

The dryad looked for the cloth, but the other one ran a lazy finger around the book. "That looks fun," she whispered. "What do you think, sister?"

"I'm not your sister," muttered Rella.

"What's this book about?" The dryad tried to open the book, but Rella stepped forward and slapped her hand away.

"Do not touch!"

The dryad cried out — maybe it was a moan — and pulled her hand away. Rella stepped forward and grabbed the book, lifting it protectively to her chest. "I have signed a blood contract with Arabo to make sure that no one else opens this book. There is foul evil in here that must be safeguarded by someone pure."

The dryad bent over the desk flicked her eyes at her, amused. "Is that you?"

Rella gulped as she brought her eyes back to the dryad's eyes. Forgive me, she prayed again.

"It's what I strive to be," said Rella.

"Sorry," said the other dryad. She lifted a box and put it on the table. "I don't see a cloth."

"Why is that open?" said Rella. "Did anyone give you permission to open my box?"

"I didn't open it," said the dryad defensively. "It was like that and waiting here for you."

"Alright." Rella swallowed again. She was thirsty and the lighting in this room was terrible. Everything was blurry and dim. "I'll be in my nook. I am not to be disturbed."

"Are you sure you don't want us in there with you?" said the dryad next to Rella. She stood and placed her hand on Rella's shoulder. Rella stepped away. "It it's so evil, you should have accountability."

"No thank you," said Rella, taking another step back, holding the abominable book tighter against her chest.

"Is there any other way we can service you?" asked the dryad behind the desk.

"Ensure my privacy. That's all," said Rella. Without another word from the harlots — Dawn forgive me — she turned and almost jogged back to her nook. She closed the door behind her and lifted her veil for a moment, trying to catch her breath and cool down. It was so hot in the library today. She needed to feel cool air against her face.

Rella placed the book down on her desk, but when she saw the cover, she flipped it over. There were no images on the other side, and she knelt down, bowed her head, and began to pray. This happened from time to time as she did her research for Iriel. She must be a pure vessel before she goes into the darkness. There must not be a shred of sin in her. In order to abolish the darkness, she must repent. She must confess her sins of judgement, roaming eyes, pride, and overt curiosity. Only Azora could make her clean. Azora and Iriel. They were the only ones fit to do this kind of work, to be consumed by the darkness and still remain themselves, but they had asked Rella to join their sisterhood, and she would do her best.

She must do her best.

After an hour of prayer and twenty Hallow Mother's, Rella stood and sat in her chair in front of the demonic book. She flipped it over, but her eyes didn't linger on the cover. Smoothly and cleanly, she opened the book and flipped through the pages. It was almost anything she'd ever read. There were no page numbers or tables of context. Some pages were papyrus, but some were a thick vellum. The book was bound carefully, but it wasn't organized very well. It was more of a collection of essays and artwork than a comprehensive argument or revelation. Rella would have to read this dozens of times and take notes on it, perhaps creating an organizational system herself.

But as she read, any notion of an organizational system abandoned her mind. Everything was replaced with shock and horror. There were words that made Rella blush with shame and her skin heat with embarrassment: vagina, orgy, oral, anal. People back home talked about words like these, but Rella came to the Abbey to escape this kind of barbaric thinking. But then there were words Rella had never read before: sodomy, lesbian, incest, sadism, and masochism. She used context clues where she could, but when that failed her, she was forced to look at the pictures that accompanied these passages.

More than once she turned away from the book and fell to her knees, begging Azora for forgiveness. She begged for purity and fortitude. She burned with hatred for Maloth, and the horrible ways this goddess used and perverted her servants. Maloth promised pleasure, but in these pages Rella found plenty of pain. She found desecration. She found filth and corruption. There was no way around it. The artwork revealed the truth of it if nothing else. Some of those depicted were in euphoric states, but there was pain etched in the faces of those that had Maloth forced upon them. Women dangled from ceilings while their nipples were tortured. Other women were splayed and forced to pleasure other older, stronger women. Forced.

Forced.

For every creature that received pleasure from worshipping Maloth, someone else lost their pleasure. Someone else got pain. There was a perfect balance to it all — one that Azora created — and even acts of debauchery were subject to that symmetry. No one could receive pleasure without taking it from another. Pleasure was predatory.

Nowhere was this clearer than the depiction of anal sex between two women. The sinister nature of it captivated Rella. Women were creatures of healing and service. Azora made them to nurture and take care of others. They were the prey, and men were the predators. Why else would Rella wear a veil? It was an outward display of her inner vow of chastity, but it was also protection from the leers of men. It protected them from sinning, and it protected her from their urges. All were served in a woman's chastity, but why would two women ever break that?

Why would they break it with each other?

And yet, one woman was so lost in the worship of Maloth that she had strapped a sculpted phallus to her hips, above the temple of her womanhood. She stood behind the other woman, and instead of replicating the sacred act between a husband and a wife, she inserted the phallus into the woman's anus. Rella could only imagine the woman thrusting while the other cried out in pain. She could only imagine their cries out to Maloth as one woman preyed upon the other.

But where was the pleasure in it?

Maloth claimed to be a goddess of pleasure — though in reality she was a goddess of evil. This act proved it more than any other. There was no pleasure in it. The predator could not feel the thrust of her phallus. The prey felt no pleasure as the other sodomized her. It was an act of torment, and that is what made it entirely of Maloth. Who would ever feel tempted by this? Who would commit herself to a lifetime of suffering?

Rella ran her hands over the artwork, trying to understand the woman being sodomized. She wished for so much better for this girl. She didn't deserve to serve darkness. She deserved happiness and pleasure. She deserved light. She deserved Azora.

"Here again?" The voice behind Rella was discordant and hissing, like multiple people talking over a grating metal.

Rella spun around and burned with shame as she realized what she had been looking at. At what she had been touching. At what she had been feeling.

But the shame was gone as soon as she beheld the monstrosity in front of her. It had the shape of a woman but had two horns and thick purple hair. It's skin was dark pink and glistened as though made of wax. It was naked, but an intricate pattern of black scales or a black tattoo like lace wound over her body and covered everything except her bare chest. There, on black nipples, were bright purple circular piercings that glowed faintly in the dim study nook. A tail flickered behind her, and her feet were hoofed.

Before the beast could say another word, Rella stood up and prayed. Spells of warding and protection wrapped around her. White and golden light flooded the chamber as Rella felt the power and delight of her goddess flood her. Azora was with her and would let no harm come to her. With a flick of her wrist, white chains lashed out and wrapped around the demon. They slithered over her bare and licentious body, latching in place as the spell took hold.

The demon looked down at the chains wrapped around them and shrugged. "Does that mean you don't want to play today?" Again, as they spoke, something was wrong with their voice. It felt like a choir of sirens trying to lure Rella to her demise, but the goddess was with her.

"Get thee gone, demon."

"Awww," said the beast. She shrugged her shoulders, and the shackles fell harmless from her. "But we were looking forward to unwrapping our present."

Rella's mouth went dry as the demon stepped forward easily. Rella tried to move, to scream, to run, to pray, to cast a spell, but she stood still — trapped in her own fear — as the monster stalked towards her. She placed a hand casually on Rella's shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in the girl's ear: "Aren't you curious as to how we know about the birthmark on your side?"

Rella shivered but not from the words. Her body sagged with heaviness as the same sickly sweet scent of the dryads filled her nostrils. Once more the study nook felt too dark, too blurry, and too hot all at once.

"Come," commanded the demon. She turned and walked out of the study nook, slipping around the corner as her tail twitched happily.

Rella's body followed, abandoning the abominable book as it trailed after a true abomination. They walked past lazy dryads as they left the library. One was sprawled out on the desk, her legs wide. The other was licking her vagina. Both were moaning.

Or maybe it was an image from the book. A memory.

Rella shook her head. She knew magic was ruling her body, but she had to ensure it didn't corrupt her mind. She closed her eyes, but her body still moved and obeyed the whims of the beast. But with her eyes closed, she could try to find solace with Azora. She could pray and ask for forgiveness. Perhaps this was another Penance. Perhaps Azora was testing her or punishing her for leering at the dryads. No. Not leering. Looking. She was just looking. She would never leer at them.

As they walked, Rella also prayed that someone would stop them, that there would be an end to the madness as a demon walked through the Abbey, but there was nothing. Ever since Orilana withdrew from the Abbey, there were less people walking about. Most people stayed in their rooms with their friends, praying. Rella stuck to her studies. She had no time for the politics in the Abbey, but now she wished that Orilana would get over her issue with Iriel so a paladin could save Rella from the darkness.

Rella opened her eyes when the air around her changed. It was hot, thick, and harder to breathe. She was in a chamber, but the stone ceiling and floor told her she was still in the Abbey. Though she didn't think there were chambers in the Abbey this large besides Iriel's. Yet, her eyes couldn't focus on the trappings of the room. She got the vague impression of the large bed and the door that led to a washroom. But none of that held her attention as the demon moved through a crowd of five naked women. They flocked to the creature and fawned over her, calling her Mistress and Melior, begging to serve her or to join her. As they ran their hands over the demon, Rella caught sight of purple circular nipple piercings that glowed faintly like the ones on the beast. Perhaps that was how it was controlling them.

Melior flicked her wrist and the women stepped back like flies. They muttered apologies and moved to the edge of the room. Melior kept her eyes locked onto Rella. She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs spread and posture upright. This was her chamber. She ruled here. She had subjugated these acolytes and was spreading corruption throughout the Abbey.

Realization struck Rella too late: she found the source of the debauchery. This was a servant of Maloth in the heart of the Abbey.

Rella tested the magic binding her and found she still couldn't move. "What do you want from me?" she asked, surprised she could speak.

"A present wrapped like yourself has only one thing to offer us," said the thick multi-personal voice. "I want you to dance and strip for us."

Rella waited for her body to obey all on its own, but it didn't. She had control, if even for a second. "You won't force me?"

"Puppets are much less fun than slaves."

"Then I can leave?"

Melior smirked. "Perhaps a demonstration." She turned to the women around the chamber. "Who wants to serve us and join us?"

All the women raised their hands and squirmed like children being offered a treat. Melior kept her eyes fixed on Rella. "What if we told you it would be excruciatingly painful?"

"Please," whined the women.

"Pick me!"

"I love pain."

"I'll do anything."

"Please!"

Melior looked at Rella. "You pick one for us."

"Me?"

"Yes. Who do you think deserves pain?"

Rella looked around the room. There were two elven women and three humans like her. She recognized one as Cynthia, with dark hair, olive skin, and thick kohl lining her eyes. She was dressed like a whore and had always been dressed this way. She joined the Abbey in hopes of becoming a political advisor in the future. She had no love of the light, only love of herself.

"Cynthia," Rella said without hesitation. She forgot to ask Azora for forgiveness.