Kingdom Come

"The universe is not without irony, to have us of all people, bring order to this land." he whispered, eliciting a snicker from the fallen witch, her laugh making her tight, swelling cleavage shake in a way that instilled intolerable lust within the victorious warlock.

He gritted his teeth when he heard the guttural voice of what could only be Brutus. "What was that my lord?" He was a tall, bald and overly muscled warlock, little more than a cloaked barbarian with mistaken notions of gentlemanly refinement, often chided for his critiques on tea and wine while sacrificing goats.

Such transgressions were often met with whips and clubs to the head, and even in combat he had paid for his bold commentaries, being so distracted that he often caught swords and spells with his face. Despite being rendered a walking, talking mass of scar tissue, the well-mannered man simply...would...not...die, to the chagrin of many and to the relief of few.

"Oh yes...I was telling our fairest Lady Eglantine..." she giggled and curtsied at his compliment, "that I was thinking of you, to replace my dear departed second in command, Zhara." The man's eyes widened, looking at his comrades in disbelief as they gave him high fives.

"Her death...touched me...deeper than you can imagine..." his voice trailed off, staring into the night sky as he feigned his sorrow, his troops mistaking his distant look for fond reminiscences of his old love, instead of the fantasies for his newest.

He turned away from the increasingly voluptuous form of Brianne, her sighs and moans a subtle accompaniment to his words. "Alas, she would not wish us to wail over her waning star. Brutus! I promote you to Magister. My imp will educate you in how best to fulfill Zhara's duties." Xarznip hopped up and down on his shoulder, an evil grin dawning on his face. "But that can wait until tomorrow."

Brutus was happy, pleased that he did not have to betray one of his order to advance, not having the heart to commit such treachery. And yet, people always assumed he did. Before he could celebrate, one disconcerting possibility lingered in his mind. "My lord! One more thing..."

"Yes..." said Vincent, his voice simmering with agitation.

Brutus gulped, his face as pallid as a corpse. "Will you be...requiring that I fulfill all of Zhara's duties?"

Vincent sighed. "No you brutish little fop, of course not! Lady Eglantine shall suffice. Now begone!" Brutus slunk down in relief while his fellow warlocks cheered and gave him playful slaps on the back, while a throng of witches suddenly became very interested in the Black Moon's most scarred and most cultured warlock.

Vincent looked into the devilish eyes of Lady Eglantine, the two communicating wordlessly as they joined hands, as if they had been a couple all along. Her adoring smile made him envision a future with her, where they could settle down as equals, no backstabbing, just...love. Sick love but love nonetheless. For the first time in a century, the warlock felt the beginnings of happiness.

***

The Royal Palace, City of Camlann

Tears streamed from the Queen's eyes, her vision cloudy from Ingrid's enchantments, but still clear enough to see the witch's perfectly sculpted bottom bounce and flex to her pleasurable contractions. She sobbed even as Ingrid palmed her ample chest, her greedy fingers squeezing around her firm orbs as her soft lips came up to her ear. "There is nothing you can do for him...it is inevitable. He will fall into her dark embrace without question, but fret not...you will not be left behind." She kissed her neck, running a finger down the Queen's tensing, tanned belly. "Before the night is done, you too will feel her heresy stain your heart, taint your soul...and you will love every delicious moment of your defilement." The Queen broke down even more, averting her gaze as the vile sorceress mounted her husband.

Morgana gasped in pleasure as she sank down on the king's throbbing cock, before pressing her warm body against his chest, the entranced king letting out a croak of pleasure. Her inner vaginal walls massaged and throbbed around his manhood as she arched her back, offering her opulent, ivory breasts to her groping lover, a wicked smile on her face as she eyed the Queen, relishing the look of pain on her face as the King reveled in his betrayal, deliriously kneading the witch's ripe mounds.

Her sorcerous aura seeped into and seduced his flesh, the King no longer caring about his soul, aware of the consequences should he give into the witch's corrupting pleasure, none of which mattered anymore, all he could do was surrender to unspeakable passion. His fierce code of honor, forged in the heat of a thousand battles, had abandoned him, leaving him to his fate with gyrating witch. Her hips and belly writhed and twisted, like a snake, the gorgeous orbs of her breasts swaying gently to her erotic dance, the oils on her skin lending an exquisite gleam to her luscious body.

Karnor's hands had drifted down her hips, onto her round bottom, squeezing her plush flesh as he slammed into her, his nerves ablaze in soul melting pleasure. Her musical moans rung out in the chamber while she raked her claws down his muscular chest, the King ignoring the sting of pain as he approached his carnal peak. Morgana looked down to him as delicate beads of sweat fell from her elegant brow, streaming in between the pale peaks of her swelling chest. Her eyes were consumed with violet fire as she channeled her inner darkness while her pussy throbbed and spasmed from the sheer power coursing through her body.

Her clenching sex milked his manhood, her velvety inner walls smothering and choking his entire length to spew his precious seed into her dark depths. The King jerked up and tensed, jetting his spend and life force straight into her moaning body. She pushed herself as deep as possible down onto his shaft, biting her lips as the searing heat of his life essence splashed and flooded inside her, his skin growing colder by the second. Time was of the essence, if she did not act quickly he would die an empty, drained husk.

She grabbed the formerly good king by the head, holding him to her jostling breast as he eagerly kissed and suckled upon her hard nipple. Her body convulsed with her own orgasm, her back arching in ecstasy as he never stopped coming, sucking his soul away while quickly replacing the void with the corrupting nectar from her breast, filling him with her evil essence. She held him close, the two now painfully intimate for the watching Queen as the witch's screams of lust had mellowed into whispers of desire, gasping and sighing in pleasure into her new slave's ear.

Morgana kissed his cheek as she felt another pulse of his seed flood into her treacherous womb. She ran a finger across his steaming and rapidly graying skin. "Feel me come into your soul...yesss...give yourself to me." Both moaned in pure sexual bliss, Morgana watching intently as her heaving bosom pumped another gout of her taint in the fallen king, her entire body tingling from her foul deed as the King finished his last jerking motions, the last of his nobility finally sucked away into her greedy depths.

Morgana closed her eyes and moved her hands to her belly while her fingers glowed a sickly purple, working her magic on the King's seed as her thoughts moved to enslaving the Queen. She smiled as she thought of the new devilry she had worked up for her. She returned to reality, pulling her leaking breast from his mouth and then kissing her new slave deeply, moaning loudly as the two tangled the tongues, making sure the Queen knew exactly how much pleasure she was taking from her ordeal.

She pulled back from the King, licking her lips and giving him one final peck on his, staring into his now fiery eyes, filled with new lusts and desires that her evil had instilled in him. He looked at her wantonly, wanting nothing more than to ravish her, but bowed his head as Morgana mentally commanded him.

Morgana rose off of his cock, letting out a quiet moan as his organ left the comfort of her warm sheathe. She spun around, leering at Adras with a deranged smile. "And now for your turn, noble Queen!"

***

Priory of Light, City of Camlann

Joran Baird, Paladin and Protector of His Holiness, reinforced the straining oak doors of the monastery with another battle ax. He was the eldest of his order, the sole remaining member after the old barbarian invasion. However, being godless heathens, they quickly took a liking to the idea of His Holiness, and so the church was spared the torch and sword, and the more spiritual members of their ranks had decided to follow Joran's noble tutelage. Barbarian Paladins. Rippling muscles and a love for violence combined with religious zeal. He thanked His Holiness for his blessings.

He had seen the creatures attacking them before and he steeled himself, as even now they haunted his memories. Maidens, beautiful maidens, turned into servants of darkness. Their glistening bodies invited more than pleasure, they invited sin and damnation. He tried to shake the image of their torn dresses out of his mind but to no avail. The large, sweeping mounds of their breasts peeked through their sullied cloth, full and upturned, begging for the attentions of a lustful lover, the gleaming hills of their supple bottoms yearning for a groping hand. But most tempting off all, was their engorged pussies, inflamed with desire and ready to consume all but the most noble, but even they, were not above such carnal traps.

Tower maidens they were called, women of such unparalleled beauty and purity that they were not actually born of mortals, but rather accumulations of holy energy, which once reaching critical mass, attained consciousness and were born into mortal form, protected from the horrors of the world in great towers across the realm. And now, they were the most depraved of Morgana's instruments, their great righteousness reformed for great evil, their wombs the givers of unholy life which now spread through the city.

He pepped up his men. "We are Paladins of His Holy Order, let not the dark temptations of shameless harlots sway us from our holy path, smite them with the light of the righteous!" They looked at him uncomprehendingly, stroking their cropped beards. Joran sighed. "Don't look at their tits and swing for their heads!" They cheered in unison, brandishing their swords and warhammers, shouting their holy oaths in defiance of the unholy howls at their doorstep.

With a loud splintering of the wood the monastery doors finally caved in and Joran saw it was worse than he thought. At the head of a horde of fallen maidens, witches and demonic soldiers strode a massive knight, clad in midnight armor, twirling a mace in one hand and swinging a sword in the other. Demons and ghosts he could handle, and though the beasts around the knight bore an infernal countenance, they were not demonspawn.

Demons could be banished, sent away with holy symbols. These soldiers bled black blood, and felled ten men for every one of their own, and despite their casualties, kept on coming. They were not just evil, they were primal evil, as essential to the balance of the universe as life and death, and this is what Joran feared most. He could no more stop the howling tides than he could the flooding rains. But he could try.

All around he could see some of the peasant militia had already buried their faces into the bouncing, bountiful breasts of the maidens, the horned vixens giggling with murderous delight as they wrapped their lush, nubile bodies around their victims while the witches seduced cowering nuns with sex magic, some penetrating them with magical phalluses, others stuffing their huge breasts into the aged women of faith, cradling their heads as they forced their corrupting ambrosia down their throats.

Joran was heartened, seeing that his brother Paladins had not given in to their lusts, and were repelling the unholy masses yet. He whispered a brief prayer, kissing his pendant before crashing down upon the dark knight, hammering down a rain of blows that would have broken a normal man, but that the knight only staggered from. The Paladin cursed. It was going to be a long night.

***

Sister Einaudi fled down into the lower parts of the monastery, still able to hear the clamor of violence from above. Within the catacombs she heard the quiet gasps and sobs of her fellow Sisters, hiding in the ample shadows the sparse light provided. But her heart quickened as she heard another sound, the hungry, lustful growl of the Dark Maidens.

She heard scampering feet on cracked tile, the rapping of long nails on stone and tormenting laughter bounce all around her. She froze up as she heard a piercing scream echo in the darkness and then more muffled giggling. All around her, the same sounds played again and again. The nuns were being picked off, culled from the herd.

The middle aged woman crept forward, sweat beading down her hands as she kept her sounds to a minimum. She leapt behind a pillar as she heard the pounding of feet behind her, and kept her hand to her mouth as she stifled a whimper, watching the decrepit form of Sister Darrow tackled onto the dusty floor as a curvaceous maiden straddled her.

She could see the shadow play of the twisted scene, how the maiden laughed hysterically as the buoyant globes of her chest bobbed and quaked to her ravings while she performed the Maiden's Kiss. She kissed deeply of the struggling nun while her lower pussy lips sealed onto the nun's womanhood, her sinful body pumping pure evil into the woman of faith.

Sister Darrow moaned as she felt the maiden attach herself to her pussy, her frail hands vainly pushing back on the maiden's rounded hips, her nerves overcome by the strange and pleasant tingling sensations that throbbed from sex, slowly moving up the rest of her body.

She fought the erotic tongue play of her violator, feeling something was coming, something she would be helpless to resist if she did not get her off in time. Her muffled groans were drowned out by the maiden's pleasure, her long fingers sailing through the nun's hair as she poured the black honey of her corruption down her throat.

Sister Darrow screamed in soundless ecstasy, feeling the hot torrent of her juices, from both her mouth and sex, flood into her being. Her body jerked underneath the maiden as she felt a tendril push past the maiden's pussy lips, entering and fully penetrating her, serving as a 'link' to keep the two closer than ever.

Darrow sobbed in joy and sorrow, her legs shaking in irrepressible delight as the tendril made incredible throbbing and wriggling motions, making her vaginal walls clamp around its length in desperation, in turn sending waves of agonizing pleasure to the maiden, their feelings now intertwined.

The maiden moaned as she felt the coils of her darkness ensnare and penetrate her victim, and pulled away from her lips to admire the youthening woman's hazy eyes as runnels of black fluid streamed out the sides of her mouth.

Sister Darrow gasped in sinful delight, feeling a new sensation of heavy softness develop on her chest. "I will not be tempted to the shadowed path....unngh...you have no power here!" Her cracking voice was beginning to youthen, becoming mixed with fright and arousal as she felt the black, syrupy fluid ooze down her firming up neck at a languorous pace.

"No Ssssister...give yourself to a new divinity..." hissed the maiden, her voice sibilant and eerily nurturing. Her smile widened as the infected nun continued convulsing in her grasp, failing to fight off the pleasure and grasping evil that slowly made its way to her innocent soul. She grasped the nun's flailing hands, steadying them on her own jiggling breasts, letting her formerly gnarled fingers grasp and knead the pliable softness of her titflesh. "Yesss...feel them...know that you will share in my blessing!"

The maiden moaned in pleasure, thrusting her chest forward and pushing her soft mounds against the nun's hands. She leaked more of her arousal over her thighs, pleased to see to the nun's bosom rise to prominence under her habit, like round, swaying mountains, eager to be groped but for the black cloth that concealed them.

"Begone...merchant of sin...mmmh...you have no power here! His Hol...Holiness guides and pro...tectssss..." coughed Darrow, her moral fortitude all but exhausted and eager to bend before the invading evil, its seductive claws well buried in her noble heart, waiting for the inevitable moment for when she gave into its promise.

The maiden grabbed her by the chin, cupping one of her enormous tits in her free hand, rubbing a thick nipple as her glare burned into the eyes of the lost nun. "His Holiness abandoned you! Surrender and let the darkness take you, change you...save you from this torment!"

She leaned down to the nun once more, kissing her passionately, drowning her protests in her lips, pressing her soft globes into the nun's equally ponderous bosom, their smooth flesh joining to create erotic peaks of wanton femininity, round and upturned but as soft as pillows.

She moaned as she poured more of her black nectar down the holy woman's throat, her body shuddering from the pure pleasure and evil contained in her elixir. She knew the nun had little hope before, but now there was no doubt her fate was sealed, which sent an orgasmic shock through the maiden, her treacherous thoughts as arousing as any act of debauchery.

Sister Darrow's complaints and groans had disappeared under gurgled moans of bliss, her eyes fluttering as her hips rubbed up and down on the maiden's sex, her body completely resigned and surrendered to her pleasurable torment.

The maiden pulled away from her lips, ushering one of her tits into the woman's mouth, her slick, engorged mound flowing in like a waterfall of sensuous flesh, all the while she stayed attached to her pussy, humping against her to feel more of her shadowy essence injected into the twitching nun. She moaned softly as she felt her breast spasm internally, before flowing more sinful pleasure into her prey's mouth, her frantic struggle to mount the woman at an end.

She smiled as her victim relaxed, the nun's widening hips falling into reciprocating her vigorous grinding. She made a delicate cut down the middle of her habit and laid her palms on the nun's breasts, reveling in the sensation of their flowing expansion, growing into upturned, vanilla hued mountains of tremulous breastflesh. Her pink nipples darkened into black points as her midsection writhed and gyrated, slimming and carving itself into perfection in a matter of moments.

The maiden knew the nun had fully embraced her seductive damnation when she stiffened, her body seizing up as she let out a series of irregular, breathy gasps, overcome by the sheer pleasure of surrendering to evil. This was how it was when I fell, the maiden thought, though those memories seemed so distant now, even her name...Ce...Cel...it did not matter anymore, this was all she lived for. Throughout her seduction, the nun's body had been changing itself for temptation, but now the invading evil had finally poisoned her soul, bonding with it and cursing her for all time.

The maiden steadied her shaking body, supporting the voluptuous nun as she arched her back to her powerful orgasms. Her chest pushed forward from her contortion, the ripe, feminine swells of her breasts bouncing and careening against each other as she shuddered from each climax. A loud moan slipped from the nun's lips as horns rose out of her forehead while her face tilted towards the ceiling, a look of ultimate pleasure on her face as her eyes began to glow in a yellow light.

When the maiden pulled her back up, she delighted in how much she looked like her fellow maidens, with her blackened lips and prominent horns, such traits marked her and her kind as unique among Morgana's servants. The nun had joined a new sisterhood.