Mud and Magic Ch. 15

The temptation was there, swaying right in front of him. Marissa practically held open her pale curtains for him. Above that, her rear entrance beckoned. Every fiber in his body yearned for him to impale her on his throbbing, rock-hard spear but that would not bring the clarity he needed right now. Instead, Carver climbed out of the basin and joined Tanith at its lip. The writhing Dark Elf eyed him curiously as he knelt down next to her.

"Do as your sister did to me," he ordered, shoving his engorged length between her gasping lips. Tanith complied, digging her long, claw-like fingernails into his butt cheeks. The pain was a refreshing sensation, clearing his mind somewhat. The moment she pressed her thumb to his rectum he came, erupting like a shattered levee into her hungrily sucking mouth. Marissa's gaze on him, her longing, her anguish at seeing his cock deep in another woman's mouth, sent fresh waves of energy through him, prolonging his already prodigious climax. Tanith coughed, spewing seed onto the dark tiles before eagerly slurping him back between her lips.

Grinning fiendishly, Carver withdrew, finally able to muster rational thought again. He patted her cum-stained cheek. "If you want more, get it after the ceremony," he taunted her before offering his still erect member to Marissa.

"I have need of you."

With an almost feverish look in her eyes, Marissa claimed his rod and licked along it's length. "Everything for you, Morgan," she moaned. Her free hand splashed around between her thighs, churning both the water and her own pussy as she lapped at every drop of his seed Tanith hadn't caught.

"Can you think straight? This is serious," he growled, withdrawing.

Marissa moaned desperately. "Please... fuck my mouth. Just for a bit?"

"You will get all the cock you want after the ceremony. Promise."

"Really?"

Carver nodded. "If not mine, then those of Lilith and her cohorts."

"Or mine," Tanith promised. "Lilith isn't the only one with that spell." She looked at Carver. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I just had an epiphany," Carver said. He exerted his Desire-given powers and conjured a bucket with cold water. Gritting his teeth, he upended the vessel over his head, rejoicing as the needle-sharp cold battered his body.

"You're not thinking about sacrificing me, are you?" Marissa asked, with wide, pleading eyes.

Carver smiled gently and used handfuls of the bath water to mitigate the shivering. "No. I want you to plunge the dagger in Xalyth's heart, praising the Spider Queen while doing so." He sought Tanith's gaze. "In your religion, every woman is a priestess, right?"

Tanith chewed on her lower lip. "That's a very... creative interpretation of our tenets." A slow grin lit up her face. "But it might be exactly what we need right now."

* * * *

"We have gathered here tonight to praise our goddess, the almighty Chaos Queen!"

Tanith's voice easily filled the whole of the subterranean chapel, located at the lowest point in the spiderlike building's 'abdomen.' Fluorescent fungi growing in carefully tended ceiling beds provided just enough illumination to see by. And the vista before him caused even Carver's innards to knot in apprehension. Two naked figures had been tied to the massive obsidian altar in the chapel's center. Xalyth and Qanthus were wide awake but tied so skillfully that moving anything but their heads was impossible.

"You seem nervous," Lilith observed. She wore a beautiful robe, seemingly made from brilliant green leaves festooned with golden seams and intricate stitching utterly at odds with the omnipresent spider iconography. Tanith wore a matching one, only hers was stitched with silver and orichalcon thread. Marissa, her hair tied into an impressive braid and wound around her head like a crown, looked almost plain in a gown made from translucent spider silk and adorned with metallic piping which looked like a spider hugging her from behind.

"I'm not keen on blood sacrifices," Carver said. "They seem an unusually cruel way to appease a deity."

"But they are so... satisfying!" Lilith hissed into his ear. She grabbed his hand and threaded it under her robe. She was naked underneath - and noticeably excited. "There is no sweeter reward than the hot blood of someone who did you wrong gushing over your naked skin!"

Playing along, Carver curved his fingers inward, causing Lilith to grind her sex into his palm before he withdrew his hand. The plump Dark Elf shot him a disappointed look. "I have done despicable things. I raised the dead. I had my second-in-command butcher countless elves to power infernal rituals. But I don't enjoy it."

"Yet," Lilith whispered, her hand invading his robe. "Give it enough time and you will. The power-"

"There is nothing powerful butchering a helpless opponent," Carver snarled, keeping her greedy hand at bay. "My one and only goal is to unite the Old Kingdom, bring it back to its former glory and make sure justice is dispensed equally to those who deserve to be judged. Kingship is a bloody profession and many situations require ghastly decisions."

Lilith snorted. "Fuck off with that 'greater good' bullshit. I know firsthand what kind of pervert you are, Carver." She flapped her tongue at him. "I haven't forgotten how hard you came when you made me choke on your cock."

"Think what you will. I don't have to justify myself to you," he growled.

"You shouldn't delude yourself either," Lilith said mildly. "Once you admit it, things will become so much easier. Ah, it's starting."

"How do you know?"

Lilith pointed. "They are getting naked, that's why. No one wants to spill blood over these ancient robes. I mean, they were made before The Fall."

A small procession of slaves entered the chapel, led by the same half-orc woman who had been with Carver when he abused Lilith's mouth. They carried a box which looked as ancient and elaborate as the robe Marissa just took off Tanith's shoulders. The tall, slender Dark Elf had painted glowing symbols onto her skin, a mixture of hourglasses, skulls and spider shapes which, in the dim light of the chapel, turned her into a quasi-real specter. Marissa bore similar markings, although her pale skin diminished the effect somewhat.

The half-orc woman lit a large fire bowl in front of the altar. A chorus of hisses flared up as most dark elves in the room covered their eyes. Within a few moments though, the painful brightness was gone, replaced with the eerie glow of smoldering embers.

Naked, Tanith and Marissa tossed handfuls of herbs and petals into the bowl, causing a thick, undulating column of smoke to rise and pool under the ceiling. All around, the attendees began to chant, a dark, wordless hymn made from dissonant notes. There was an unsettling rhythm in the cadence, always off a beat or two, which only added to Carver's feelings of unease. The worship of Desire was deeply personal, more a dialogue than a formal mass. Yet it was obvious that this ritual conjured a lot of power. Something... someone was listening, just outside this reality and Carver could feel hungry anticipation ebb and flow between the off lines of the chant.

The slaves left, taking the robes and ritual paraphernalia with them, leaving only the half-orc behind. The slave carefully opened the ancient box. From within, she produced a purple cushion. On it, like slivers of utter blackness, rested two long, angular knives, their blades formed from four obsidian slices. The hand guards were fashioned in the image of a spider, each of the four hind legs terminating in one of the slivers while the front legs loosely hugged the grip.

Head bowed, the slave presented the cushion to Tanith who took one of the knives. The tall dark elf priestess bowed towards the fire bowl and kissed the weapon's pommel.

"Is it usual that slaves handle such important relics?" Carver quietly asked. "Shouldn't you be down there, assisting your precious sister?"

"There is such a thing as too many priestesses during a sacrifice," Lilith admitted. "With your... companion doing the honors, I excused myself and decided to keep you company instead." Her hand slipped under Carver's robe again. "Come on. Is the view really not to your liking? So much naked flesh..."

He clasped her hand and gently, but firmly, placed it on Lilith's own thigh. "You know, you remind me of a former associate of mine. I'm sure you and he would have made a splendid team. I derive no pleasure form this barbarism."

The half-orc presented the second dagger to Marissa. The sorceress eyed the weapon skeptically. Tanith aimed her blade at the half-orc's bosom, mimicking a sharp stab. The blade stopped before breaking the slave's skin and Tanith pressed a button on the weapon's pommel. Hissing viciously, the four obsidian slivers fanned outward, revealing a short metal skewer hidden between them. Marissa repeated the motion, activating the mechanism as the blade stopped just before the slave's chest. Somehow the slave managed not to flinch away from the deadly implements.

"You may leave," Tanith said, waving dismissively. The half-orc retreated away from the altar, her skin pale and lips pressed into a tight line.

Lilith beckoned her close with an imperious gesture and the slave joined them reluctantly.

She bowed deeply. "Mistress?"

"On your knees. Carver has demanded your services."

Shrugging, the slave shed her robes and knelt down, reverentially opening Carver's garment. Before he could protest, she had pulled his loincloth aside and closed her lips around his flaccid member. Her tongue - and her skillful fingers playing with his balls - had him hard in seconds. Carver didn't dare pull back, for fear of slicing his member open on her tusks. Lilith grinned at him, sensuously fingering herself as she watched.

"Isn't this completely out of place in such a ceremony?" Carver asked, his voice short on breath.

"It's only as weird as you want it to be. I mean, Mother was very fond of giving her sacrifices one last ride before she gutted them. I think Tanith will strictly adhere to the ritual though. Why waste all your energy on some piles of soon to be dead meat?" She gasped as she pushed two fingers deep into herself, bathing Carver and the half-orc in a lascivious smirk.

"We have gathered here tonight to make sure justice will be done," Marissa said, raising the knife high over her head. Light from the fire bowl glinted off the edge of her blade like a malevolent, crimson lightning flash.

"The Queen does not tolerate negligence!" Tanith shouted. "Qanthus, you failed this house!"

A storm of cat calls and boos filled the chapel.

"Your misconduct allowed our enemies to land a harsh blow to our defenses," Tanith added. "Why were our walls only lightly defended when House Xalaari attacked us?"

"Because Lilith said she doesn't want more than just the minimum-" Qanthus yelled, his protest cut short by a vicious slap from Tanith. "Beast-men!" the helpless male added, earning him another jaw-cracking hit. Recognizing the futility of his struggle, he resigned himself to staring defiantly at the naked priestesses.

Carver came, almost reluctantly. The naked half-orc between his legs smacked her lips and gathered her belongings before scuttling from the chapel. "Is that true?" he asked, righting his clothes.

"Well, yeah," Lilith said, shrugging. "You have any idea what it takes to keep a dozen minotaurs happy?"

"'Food and the occasional piece of ass', if I remember correctly. What's the problem?"

"The stench. The constant mating calls. And I was frankly sick and tired of blowing cocks thicker than my arm." Another shrug. "Just goes to show that males are too stupid to quickly come up with alternate solutions."

"A waste of an otherwise capable officer," Carver remarked, shaking his head.

"One sacrifice would not suffice to entice the Queen, especially not if offered by a Surface-dweller like your pet witch. Qanthus is the most senior of our males and as such hopefully enough to sweeten the deal. Now hush," Lilith hissed, cutting short any more of Carver's questions.

"The Queen does not tolerate betrayal!" Marissa yelled, her voice cracking as she shouted the strange Dark Elven words. Or maybe it was her own excitement. She jabbed the knife's point at Xalyth.

The bound priestess stared daggers into Marissa. "Try living fifty years in this madhouse," she spat. "You would be the first to plot a nice, cozy bout of sororicide, especially after all the abuse these-" Xalyth fell silent, face to face with the deadly obsidian knife mere inches from her eyes as Marissa leaned in.

"Tanith told me how traitors usually die," Marissa purred, gently dragging the knife along Xalyth's jaw. "Jabbing this between your tits will be a mercy, believe me."

"I hope you know what you've signed up for, bitch," Xalyth spat. Marissa lashed out, smashing the knife's heavy pommel against her victim's mouth. The sound of shattering teeth was drowned out by Xalyth's incoherent howl.

Tanith offered a small bow. "Continue," she purred.

Marissa raised her voice, to be heard above the agonized whimpers. "You betrayed House Dree'vex to House Xalaari, in the vain hope to elevate your station. Not only did envy blind your judgment, your actions caused the death of nineteen esteemed members of House Dree'vex, seventy-three warriors of Lord Carver's entourage and the equivalent of twenty-nine thousand and odd gold pieces in damage to House Dree'vex. There is only one punishment for your treachery."

Marissa stepped nimbly aside as Xalyth spat a bloody clot her way. The attendees were on their feet, demanding blood for blood.

"Your guilt is proven without a doubt!" both naked women next to the altar screeched, jabbing their daggers at the whimpering forms on the obsidian block. Marissa took up position next to Xalyth while Tanith rejoined Qanthus. The doomed former weapons master hissed something Carver didn't hear over the shouting dark elves demanding their hearts. Tanith shook her head and ended his complaints with a fist to his temple, stunning him. The dark elf scowled and shook out her hand, making eye contact with Marissa and mouthing something lost in the howl for murder reaching a fevered crescendo around Carver.

In a frighteningly synchronous motion, their blades came up. In a black arc they came down, sighing between the ribs of their victims. Then there was a stomach-churning noise of bones cracking. Suddenly, the air was thick with the stench of blood. As one, the blades rose from savaged chests, trailing a thick fountain of crimson and bringing forth the still-beating hearts of one traitorous priestess and one unlucky weapons master.

Tanith held her blade up to eye level. She opened her mouth and slowly licked a tongueful of heartblood from the still pumping organ. Carver could feel Marissa's revulsion through their tether. The sorceress shot a panicked look at Tanith.

The priestess stared back, the dripping heart still at face level. The dark elf waggled her tongue and made an encouraging, urgent gesture.

Hesitantly, Marissa licked the dripping piece of flesh. Carver fought to keep his last meal down.

Tanith entwined her arm with Marissa's and guided the shaken sorceress to the fire bowl. Intoning words of praise for her divine mistress, she flicked her heart into the embers. Marissa followed suit in almost undue haste. The stomach-turning stench of blood was thickened by the unmistakable aroma of burning meat and then there was a strange, clicking sound under the chapel's ceiling. A hush fell over the assembly. Carver looked up, his gaze torn away from Tanith hungrily kissing Marissa's bloodied mouth and chin.

A strange creature hung under the ceiling. She was taller than any dark elf he had ever seen before, yet her proportions and coloration left little doubt of her chosen ancestry. A quartet of chitinous spider legs sprouted from her back and a wild mane of crimson spilled over her bare breasts. Whatever magic got her up there dissipated and she drifted to the ground, easily coming to rest between the naked women at the altar.

Carver knew just enough about Dark Elven mythology to recognize a Handmaiden, a kind of demon sent by the Chaos Queen to announce Her will. He turned to face Lilith, but for once, the feisty Dark Elf had better things to do than lecture him. She was on her knees, her head bowed in supplication.

Tanith went to her knees in front of the demoness. Marissa, on instinct, followed suit.

"I hope our offering pleases Our Glorious Mother," Tanith said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Within seconds, the chapel was deathly quiet. Despite her deference, she didn't dare to lower her gaze. Worry fluttered over her face like lacy wings.

The Handmaiden walked around the altar, poking the lifeless, blood-drenched corpses. "That was a cunning reversal, allying with a human from the Surface," she announced. With swaying hips, she left the altar and sashayed to where Carver sat on the front bench. "Normally, I should take your head for your failure to offer proper respect," she sneered, planting a hand on a curvy hip. One of her spider legs gently raised Carver's chin, the barbed claw at its tip a none too subtle reminder that she was thoroughly capable of following through with any threat she made.

"And risk the ire of my deity?" Carver quietly retorted. A fierce tug on the tether he shared with Marissa nearly caused him to flinch. His second-in-command was almost besides herself, caught in a torrent of emotion. The terror of witnessing a live demon close up, arousal and - to his surprise - a flickering mote of shame and disgust from what she had just done. He marshaled his willpower and shut off the insistent, distracting emanations between them. "If I understand the history, your Mistress and mine already had a deal. Think about who might be the more formidable goddess in such a spat."

The Handmaiden leaned in and caressed Carver's lips with a slender finger. "Your Mistress made it so that mine whelped not one, but two traitor spawn. I should cut you open from head to groin and shit in your innards, just to regain a measure of recompense for the grief your meddling patron deity forced upon my Mistress and her faithful."

"But you would not do that right now, would you? After all, you are here to pronounce Her verdict on this lovely ceremony."

The Handmaiden returned to the altar and helped Tanith back to her feet. "We applaud your deft handling of these affairs," she proclaimed, her voice suddenly filled with strange harmonics, as if a whole chorus was speaking through her one mouth. "Ridding yourself of your blood-crazed Matriarch, fending off an assault without Our favor and deftly circumnavigating every pitfall which could have soured this holy offering - we pronounce House Dree'vex to be in Our good graces once again!"

The chapel let out a communal gasp of relief. The Handmaiden raised her hand. "Still - we can not overlook the presence of infidels in our midst. There has to be penance."

"What can we do to mitigate your anger, o Queen?" Tanith whimpered, going to her knees and pressing her face against the Handmaiden's crotch.

"Oh, I have a beautiful idea," the demoness purred, her voice her own again. "And since you already worship me, keep doing so until I have reached my full potential."

Carver watched in fascination as Tanith kissed and lathered the Handmaiden's crotch with her mouth. At first he wondered what that was all about, how such a mundane act of pleasure could coax mercy from the imposing Handmaiden or the fickle deity observing from afar. But then he saw it - a thick, black nub grew from between the demoness' labia, curved upwards and elongated, until both of Tanith's hands were unable to keep the impressive member in check. The Handmaiden grabbed Tanith's luscious mane and slowly, deliberately fucked the kneeling priestess's mouth until the demoness came. Within the first two spurts, Tanith's mouth failed to contain the prodigious flood and she simply let her jaw go slack to avoid drowning in the silvery torrent.