King's Folly

Akisos, realm of the damned. Infernal wailing was common amongst the magma and wayward souls here, but no such wailing compared to the shrill cries that rung out from the throne room.

Sadrin, god of death and ruler of Akisos, sat on his throne with his favorite concubine, Ashlar, riding his massive cock. Her moans of worship were gut-wrenching.

"Yes, Master," Ashlar panted, her head thrown back onto Sadrin's shoulder, her back in an impressive arch, and her hips desperately bucking against him, trying to drive him deeper inside her. "Fuck...me...harder," she said between her hitched breaths.

Sadrin gripped her hips and a demented smile curled across his lips as he obliged her request. Between Sadrin and Ashlar's legs, lapping up their passion, was Iredell, Sadrin's second favorite. With Ashlar's needy cunt and Iredell's hungry mouth, Sadrin couldn't think of a better way to waste time.

"Please, Master, please fill me," said Ashlar as she squeezed her breasts and resorted to grinding, her lust almost too much to bear.

"Yes, Master, just a taste for your most devoted servants," said Iredell, as she licked from his shaft up to Ashlar's cunt back down to his shaft.

"As talented as you two are," said Sadrin, "You are by no means worthy of my seed."

Ashlar whined. Sadrin gripped her face so hard, the apples of her cheeks protruded.

"You will take what I give you and be grateful for it," he growled.

"Yes, Master," the women said in unison.

Sadrin released Ashlar's face and nipped at her neck while palming her breasts when his eyes flickered over to the looking glass across from his throne. His brow furled as he narrowed his eyes. "Enough," he commanded.

Iredell stopped as instructed, ever obedient was she; but Ashlar continued, greedy as ever.

"I said, enough," Sadrin stood up from his throne and tossed Ashlar aside to the floor. Her coos of ecstasy dissolved into anguished cries of pain. She slapped at her clit, desperate to relieve the immediate, mounting pressure inside of her, pressure that could only be relieved by Sadrin's cock.

Unmoved by Ashlar's plight, Sadrin situated himself and moved closer to the looking glass. He studied the images intently, intrigued at what was unfolding before him. At his feet, pitiful whimpering and kisses. A tearful Ashlar licked his boot.

"Master...please...more," she said tonguing his boot with the same passion and vigor she would his cock.

Sadrin stepped aside from her worship. "You seem to forget yourself, slave. It is you who service me, not the other way around. Now leave me before I not touch you for a decade."

Iredell scurried to Ashlar's side and escorted her back towards the foot of the throne. She stroked the sobbing Ashlar's hair and planted soft kisses on her companion's forehead.

Sadrin continued to peer into the looking glass, his eyes darting, taking everything in. After a moment, a laugh escaped his lips. "How easily mortals forget."

Sadrin left his throne room and marched down the corridor.

He arrived at his former bed chambers and opened the door. The sweet scent of lilac enveloped him; he closed his eyes and folded his lips in anticipation. He shut the door behind him and took several paces inside the room until his bed became visible.

Within his bed, kneeling, was a vision of purity and virtue. Her delicate frame draped in a silver tunic dress. Beside her, one of Sadrin's many tomes detailing ancient arcane arts.

"Sybil," said Sadrin as he placed his hand over his chest and offered a small bow, his eyes never leaving her.

Sybil lowered her eyes to him, "Lord Sadrin."

Outsiders witnessing the exchange might be curious as to who was the deity and whom the mortal between the two.

"I've told you, there need not be such formalities between us," he said, making his way to her side of the bed. "You may call me 'Sadrin.'"

She offered him silence instead.

Sadrin reached out a finger and caressed her arm. "Might I warm your bed, tonight?"

Sybil stiffened her posture and turned her head away from him. She pulled her arm away from his touch and the shackle and chain that tethered her to the bed rattled.

Sadrin gave a soft chuckle. "Rebuffed... as always," His eyes traveling from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. "No matter, that's not why I'm here. I wanted to show you something, sweet Priestess." He held out his hand. "Come with me."

She didn't turn to face him, instead she crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, then," he said. He drew close to her ear, "I only thought you might be interested in seeing your precious Asiam, again" he said in a whisper.

Her skin bristled at the mere mention of his name. Her head whipped in Sadrin's direction, her eyes wide, searching his face for deception.

There was no deceit there. He merely clenched his jaw and bit his upper lip to keep it from curling. Her continued devotion to him left a bitter taste in Sadrin's mouth.

He gestured for her hand, once more. With her shackled hand she reached for his. Once her hand was firmly in his grasp, the clasp of her shackle collapsed open and it fell to the bed with a cushioned THUD.

With tenderness and grace, he pulled her from the bed and guided her onto the floor. She flexed her bare foot until the ball of her foot touched the ground. She lowered herself accordingly. He took her arm into his own and placed his hand over hers on his bicep. His pointed nails grazed her hand and sent a chill down her spine, though she stood tall and rooted her feet as to not let on how intimidated she was.

Walking down the open corridor, Sadrin's pace was slow and easy to match Sybil's stride. He peered down at her; her gaze was fixed on the scenery. The terrain was made up of jagged obsidian. Between the obsidian's crevices oozed streams of searing lava. The vegetation was little more than twisted and crooked trees with bare branches that splintered like fingers reaching for salvation just out of reach. There was a devastating majesty to Sadrin's kingdom.

Sybil's body produced a fine sheen of sweat, making her honeyed complexion that much more appetizing to Sadrin.

"Still not acclimated to the heat here?" he asked.

"No, Lord Sadrin," Sybil's gaze remained fixed on the landscape.

"How long has it been since you first arrived?"

"I lost count after the sixth harvest, your Lordship."

"I suppose that is a long time to be confined in my chambers. There's so much you've yet to experience here. So much Akisos could offer you..." He had hoped she would inquire about what Akisos could offer her, what he could offer her, but, alas, she remained stoic. "It was my hope not to keep you here as my captive."

"With that we share a commonality, Lord Sadrin. One of few, I'm sure."

The vein in his neck throbbed, although he couldn't place if it was irritation or attraction he was experiencing at that moment. "I'm certain our common ground will expand, in due time." He gave her hand a few reassuring pats, though it was uncertain if the reassurance was more so for him than for her. "I noticed you were reading the Seven Rites of the King in my chambers. A bit odd, wouldn't you say?"

"How so?"

"Well, if anyone were to be well-versed with those specific rites, I would imagine it be you, Priestess."

"I see no harm in revisiting the text. There's always something new to learn."

"Like a loophole to reverse your current circumstances?"

Sybil turned to look up at Sadrin, their eyes locked. His amber eyes with their molten glow burned through her resolve, if only for a moment. She rolled her shoulders back and broke his gaze with a quaint laugh. "Lord Sadrin," she said, "You wound me. Do you think I would employ deceitful tactics to circumvent my eternal judgement?"

Sadrin pursed his lips and gave a non-committal shrug. "If you thought the judgement passed down to you by the gods was just, then no..." He stopped to face her, "But you don't believe your judgement to be just, do you?"

Her eyes drifted away from his as she sighed and folded her arms.

"It's okay, confide in me. Just because I'm one of the gods doesn't make me one of them," he said stepping closer into Sybil's space. "Although," he placed his hands on her slender shoulders. His thumbs traced her shoulders' elegant contours. His breath became shallow. "I do greatly benefit from your damnation." His mouth watered at the thought of her helplessness in the situation. He allowed his eyes to wander down to her ample cleavage. His Adam's apple descended and rose as he swallowed. The heaving of her chest increased from subtle to alarmed. He brought his eyes back up to hers and was met with doe eyes and a worrisome brow. He lifted his hands away from her and allowed them to fall at his sides. He gestured in front of them, "The throne room is just through these doors."

The throne room's stories high doors opened with an authoritative CLUNK. As they eased opened, they creaked as if they were groaning. Sadrin walked in, both Ashlar and Iredell perked up at his presence.

Following behind Sadrin was Sybil, taking tentative steps. All this was so new to her. Besides the throne were two naked women. One's eyes glistened and a coy smile drew across her face as she looked at Sybil, her index finger dangling from her eager bottom lip. The other looked down her nose and scowled. Though naked, they were not without adornments. Black and blue bruises on the hips, neck, wrists, and calves of the scowling woman. Both women had scratches and bite marks. They must be the ones Sybil could hear caterwauling for Sadrin most nights. She could never discern if their howls were of pain or pleasure. It was for those cries in the night that made her frightened of Sadrin's amorous gaze.

Making his way to the looking glass, Sadrin looked back for Sybil. He followed her eyes and settled his on the same sight: Ashlar and Iredell. It must have been a fright to see them in such a condition.

"Leave us," he commanded.

Iredell did not spare a moment to do as her Master said. She took several paces and looked for her companion, Ashlar, still at the throne, though, luckily for her, Sadrin's attention was focused on Sybil. Iredell rushed back to her.

"Ashlar, please, he does not seem in the mood for games, today. Let's go before he takes notice we are still here."

Ashlar snarled at the sight of Sadrin tending to Sybil so diligently. She took a reluctant first step with Iredell.

"Don't worry, there's a spot Master doesn't know about where we can watch," whispered Iredell with a playful giggle.

Iredell's reassurance gave Ashlar a bit more agency to obey. The two seeped into the shadows.

Sadrin and Sybil approach the looking glass.

"Here, this is it," Sadrin said as he positioned Sybil in front of the looking glass.

Through the glass, there were only swirls of mist and smoke and the faint reflection of Sybil's hesitant face. "Should I be seeing something, Lord? Is this an exercise in scrying? If so, I'm afraid seeing was never my gift."

"Truly?" he asked as he took long and measured steps towards the glass, his hands clasped behind his back. "I suppose you possess far more... useful gifts than that of the common oracle." His nose practically touched the glass when he turned back to her, "Are you ready to see?"

Sybil nodded.

He lifted his index finger to the glass and let his nail tap against it. Where his nail landed a point of light burned bright through the mist and smoke. He drew his nail lengthwise across the glass causing the point of light to become a ray of light, cutting through the hazy nebula behind the glass. The further he drew the more frayed the line of light became. The obscurity of the realm beyond ripping apart until he reached the other side of the glass where he let his finger fall. In that moment, the frayed ray of light expanded violently, blinding Sybil.

Sybil's eyes adjusted from the explosion of light with several blinks. Whiteness faded and in it's place a set of mischievous eyes looked back at her. Her heart fluttered. She brought her fist to her chest, hoping to keep her heart from bursting out. The eyes wrinkled in their corners. Was he smiling? What brings him joy these days? His skin, a color as rich and deep as Temekean Silt. His locks greyed at the temples. Time had indeed past, but King Asiam remained as handsome as the day she fell in love with him. He stood at the palace balcony; it seemed as though he was addressing the Kingdom of Temek.

Sybil studied the looking glass with longing and curiosity. She took delicate but deliberate steps towards it, frighten that this gift could be revoked as quickly as it was granted. Her concerns were valid, Sadrin watched her as intently as she watched the looking glass, that bitter taste welling up on his tongue again.

"It looks like a celebration," she said, "but of what?" She adjusted her body to get a better vantage point, the looking glass was now merely a window to a world she long left behind but yearned to return to. "Is it the Season of the Maiden?" She peered deeper into the glass. "No, the regalias aren't in bloom. What are they observing, Lord Sadrin?"

"I suppose you wouldn't be familiar with this particular festival; you had long settled into my quarters by the time they started observing it. They call it 'The Dawn after the Long Night.' Though the celebration of the Dawn is new to you, I doubt you'll ever forget that Long Night, will you?" he said with a smirk on his face.

Her heart slowed and her stomach constricted. The glint in Sybil's eyes glazed over into dismay.

She turned her back to the glass, her initial joy of seeing her home soured into anguish.

"What troubles you, Priestess? Why do you turn away from your beloved King? Is his betrayal too much to endure?"

"He didn't betray me..." she said, her voice hushed and wavering.

"And what would you call it then? By all accounts he should be in the Great Hall of Acharnes with his forefathers and other great heroes of Temek, and you walking amongst the living, blessing patrons, mentoring acolytes," he said as he skulked up to her, lowering his voice so his influence would take root deep inside her psyche. "But no, there he is, addressing his subjects, and you here...you weren't even granted the 'honor' to serve as a footstool in Acharnes."

Sybil's core tremored. She clasped her hands over her stomach to subdue the quake, she would not so easily falter to his manipulation.

"Do you know what they call him?" he asked, bowing his head to catch her lowered eyes, "Asiam the Resurrected. How absurd." He stepped towards Sybil and turned her back towards the looking glass, he pulled her into him. The rigidity of his armored chest plate against her back caused her posture to straighten. He lifted her chin with his finger to return her eyes to the looking glass.

Asiam now walked down a long, lonesome decorative corridor in the palace. Sybil recognized it; her former chambers weren't too far from where he traversed.

"He would be little more than a bloated corpse in a ravine. His adoring subjects would be my own had it not been for your magic, your diligence...your sacrifice." The two continued watching Asiam. Sadrin's hands trailed down Sybil's arms and rested on her wrists. "No one knows what happened in those hallowed halls of Chalsis, those hypocritical pantheon pricks insistent on their trite tribute from recently departed Kings. Asiam knew maybe two of the rites, but when he exhausted his pathetic lack of knowledge he begged and wept."

Sadrin turned his head and spat at the thought of Asiam's weakness, he grew tired of that bitterness he associated with her love for Asiam resting so brazenly on his tongue.

"Asiam is a great many things, Lord Sadrin, but a coward he is not," said Sybil, pulling away from Sadrin's touch.

Sadrin allowed her space. "Oh? Well if not a coward, how about treasonous swine? Begging for the pantheon to spare him, an already dead man, instead of the thousands of citizens in Temek at the mercy of the gods because he couldn't perform his rites. Arguably, the one duty expected of him. But no, he couldn't do it. Temek has no idea at how close they came to their reckoning from his incompetence. But then, as if lightning struck in Chalsis, you showed up. You joined him and gave him the prayers, the gestures, the knowledge." Sadrin reached for her hand and caressed it. "I've sat through many a King's Rites, but none were performed with as much reverence and grace as I saw with you that night. That night that spanned the course of three days. It was you; you were the savior of Temek, not that fool."

"Hold your tongue!" Sybil snapped.

An inferno lit in Sadrin's core. The pressure in Akisos became dense and the stifling heat scorched to a dizzying degree. The tectonic plates of Akisos tremored and shifted along with his souring mood. He gripped her by the throat and snatched her close. Her ear mere millimeters from his mouth. "You dare to command me to refrain from speaking, in my throne room?" he said in a low growl.

Sybil could only respond to him with desperate attempts at breaths.

"Priestess," he chuckled. "I don't think you're fully aware of the courtesy I've shown you, nor your lack of leverage here," he whispered. "Lift your dress."

Sybil's hands shook with resistance, but she bundled the fabric up to her waist, exposing herself.

That intoxicating scent of lilac intensified in Sadrin's nostrils. "Touch yourself."

Sybil took her index finger and slid it up and down her clit, timidly, those resistant tremors ever present. Before long, the rest of her fingers joined, and sliding gave way to her rubbing herself in a circular motion.

Sadrin watched Sybil oscillate between prideful restraint and pleasurable yielding. It was a battle for her to maintain her dignity and not flounder to her baser needs, a battle she was sorely losing.

"What you fail to realize, dear Priestess, is that the moment your soul was bound to this realm I could have forced your compliance any time I so chose. You serving as nothing more than a series of trickling orifices for me to use and abuse at my discretion," he said through gritted teeth, his grip around her throat still firm. "But," his grip loosened as he relinquished her throat one finger at a time, until her mandible rested between his thumb and forefinger. "That's not what I wanted for you." He released her completely.

Sybil collapsed to her knees and gasped for air. She crumbled further by placing her free hand on the ground. Granted autonomy once more, she removed her hand from herself, her fingers slicked with tainted desire.

Sadrin took a knee next to her. "Not for the woman who so effortlessly subverted the pantheon's so-called grand design." He took her glistening fingers and brought it up to his mouth for a series of long licks and suckles. He swallowed then he sucked his teeth and shook his head. Coercion had an acquired taste, fitting for some women, but not Sybil. What Sadrin craved most was the nectar that was her submission.

He stood up and helped her to her feet.

She shied away from him.

"Perhaps, Priestess, I may have been too severe," he said. "And perhaps my reputation precedes me. Perhaps you don't believe me when I tell you the painstaking truth about your beloved."

Though cowering, she managed to cut her eyes at him.

"So, how about a deal? I will grant you corporeal form once more. That way you can return to Temek and see for yourself how worthless Asiam is."

Her eyes lit up. She could return home. She could have Asiam in her arms again. "In exchange for what?" she asked.

"You completely submit yourself to me, for a night."

Her heart was in turmoil. On the one hand, a second chance, on the other she thought of those two women. Would a second chance at happiness be worth the assured suffering she'd face at his hands? She rubbed her neck for comfort and to soothe it from the trauma she endured from him.