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Click hereEdited by _____ (blank) and CapDragon121.
Disclaimer: While some characters are diminutive or non-human, all characters involved in sexual acts are over the age of 18. This story is a dark, magical fantasy, with classic fantasy races appearing. There can be a strong influence of emotion, sins, and demons in rituals and magic.
Because of that, there are many sexual acts that take place as a result of magic, violence, or even just old-fashioned sex. Note however that violence during the sex will be kept down. I won't be exactly writing a Satanic blood orgy of sadomasochistic auto cannibalism spawned by a trip through the Chaos dimension (that scene from Event Horizon was wack).
While I will be trying to enforce some kind of internal consistency, and not engage in nonsensical sexual acts merely for their own sake, there is an in-universe connection between sexual acts and the siphoning of magical energy. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this tale.
Prologue
The sight was a bloodbath, as wicked claws wrenched and screeched against gleaming silver armour. Tall, beautiful angelic bodies fell on the muddy fields of a vast plain. The air was thick with the hot press of bodies and the stench of blood, sweat, and shit, as death danced amongst them.
Monstrous demons streamed forward, their forms never one and the same: towering two-legged shadow-beasts with giant hands and claws, large-breasted women with skin of ash or dark obsidian. Winged red-skinned fiends struck against the flying angels in the sky and dived against the struggling mass of carnage below. The forces of the Heavens were resplendent in their silver armour and garbed in a warm, heavenly light, as they mustered their Angelic magic to ward against the onslaught.
Spears thrust, and shields battered the surge. Demons were cast asunder or strewn about from blasts of light or crackles of lightning. The hideous shrieks of their pain and death pierced the roar and chaos of war. The white dresses of the Valkyries fluttered as they soared and clashed with the fiends in the stormy sky. The clouds spewed rain, lightning and thunder forth and mixed with the clash of metal, shrieks, and the buzz and boom of magic.
This wave of demonic fury and violence rolled over the army of the Heavens. In its wake lay the crumpled bodies of angels and survivors who now struggled against the perverted, clutching grasp of the demon horde.
-----
Chapter 1
God has been killed; slain by the fallen angels and marked their departure to Hell. The original hell had purpose: you sat atop scales and were judged, and your soul was washed and scrubbed clean, to be cast back into the mortal realm to live again. The new home of the Fallen has been corrupted by the deicidal act, turning it into a fiery landscape of ash, sulphur and molten rock, from which no mortal can claw their way out of.
In their death, God wielded their failing strength to alter the flow of souls. They ensured that Hell no longer pulled the souls of all mortals into the fiery depths, though murderers, thieves, and those partaking in wicked delights were bound to suffer its fate.
Now, the monstrous and inhomogeneous demon spawn surge into the mortal plane through 'The Breach'. Angels and demons cross its threshold, and the pillaging, looting, murder and chaos, is held at bay by the Breach's small size, and mortal's courage of arms.
The heavens above jostle with conflict betwixt angels; the strongest remaining angels vie for position, and clamour for the vacant golden throne. Their defence of the mortal world is hampered by their wits being turned against one another, as they compete for the power and prestige that destroying demons grants them. Each magical creature slain is used to increase one's own power by siphoning the energy of the fallen.
The mortal plane of Astura for the last one-hundred forty-three years has been at risk of invasion by demon hordes. Distrust worms its way into the hearts of the mortal races of Humans, Elves, Pixies, Giants, Halflings, Hobgoblins, and Races long forgotten since the Sundering. For, will your fellow mortals steal, disfigure, murder, or utterly destroy others to make dark pacts, and become pets at the feet of new demon rulers in a blighted world?
The scratch of the quill against parchment ceased as Markus penned that suspicious question. He loosened his tight grip and replaced the quill in its inkwell. Taking a moment, he rubbed at his eyes as they strained against the waning candlelight.
As he stretched his stiff limbs, the ache behind his eyes refused to dissipate; slumber seemed too tempting to refuse. His writing desk creaked slightly, adorned with leather bound books on alchemy, spells, warding, and demonology. They were never far from reach and they now showed signs of wear form many late-night readings.
Stacks, piles, and mountains of books were strewn about his room, though it was still a large and comfortable space, as he managed to easily walk between them to his wash stand. The flickering candlelight allowed him to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the polished copper mirror upon the stand. Dark, wavy hair cut short, framed a handsome face with piercing blue eyes, with a pale complexion from long days spent reading and studying. I'll never quite understand how my muscles stay in this state.
The slight bulge of them strained against his simple tunic. His body was suspended in a muscular state, his muscles flexed like a warrior or a man who laboured by day. Instead, he read by day and by candlelight. Not that he would ever complain of such a blessing, but it was a curious oddity: neither him nor his parents, who oversaw his education in magic, had managed to solve it.
Markus undressed into his small clothes and wrapped the sheets around him, as his head hit the pillow with a thud. His sleep brought on a strange and terrifying dream. A dream of angelic legions clashing with demonic hordes, and a voice that seemed to beckon and whisper just beyond comprehension.
-----
"Hellooo, wake uuuuup." A feminine, jovial whisper from an Irish lass carried into his room, as he groggily started awake.
His voice was gravel, but he managed to speak "I'm awake. Good morning, Mary."
The red-headed halfling girl, a few years younger than him at the ripe age of eighteen, was always a pretty sight in the morning. He rolled onto his back so that he could see her clearly.
"Uh... Markus, your... thing is doing it again." She giggled, partially hiding her face with her hand. The high-pitched laughter of her voice prodded him awake.
He jerked slightly for a moment before glancing down and noticing his cock had risen during the night - of course it was during the night. It made a noticeable tent of his sheets, and Markus could feel the blood rise in his cheeks.
"Well, shit," he said. Markus rolled to the edge of his bed and gathered the sheets below his waist, exposing his well-built chest and shoulders before hurriedly changing the subject, "Eggs ready?" His voice held a rich, deep English accent with a touch of his privileged status. Nailed it, play cool.
His eyes managed to look up to the short, diminutive stature of the halfling Mary. Her face was a pretty visage, with slightly freckled and pale skin, and a cute button nose. Beneath her long, wavy red hair that hung loose, her green eyes held a twinkle. She stood at four and a half feet tall, garbed in a cream coloured dress of simple make and white trimming. That's when he noticed; she was staring down at the bulge still prominent beneath his sheets, despite his efforts to bunch them up.
"Mary, the eggs?" He asked gently.
Her voice came out in a rush "Oh, right. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Her cheeks reddened. Mary's bright green eyes met his gaze for a moment before dipping down as she curtsied. She all but ran from the room, her small, taut little ass jiggling slightly in her dress as she did so. I don't know why she's so surprised. Dicks do that in the night. Though the last thing I can remember is a weird dream about battle, blood and chaos, and still this thing rises. Dicks are weird.
Summoning his energy and any dignity he could muster, he set about washing his face, with an eye keenly fixed on the door and one hand still clutching the sheet. He couldn't hear any footsteps outside his door, which still stood slightly ajar. Feeling safe from prying eyes, he dropped the sheets and began donning his clothes. He was lost in the eternal struggle of man; the war of fitting an erect penis into your trousers first thing in the morning.
After dressing, Markus made his way to the kitchen and sat down with a groan. He was welcomed by a plate of freshly cooked eggs, bacon, and sliced bread with butter.
"Your ma and da have already headed off to the castle. They said something about a messenger early in the morning requesting their presence." She spoke quickly but warmly, flashing him a smile.
"By sweet Michael. Eggs in the morning, mmm!" He moaned, as he devoured the eggs.
She prodded him, "Erm, Markus, did ye hear me?"
"Oh, yes. Mother and father, at Lord's castle. Something important. These eggs are lovely as always."
Mary smiled warmly at that and pretended to admonish him, "Well, I know how you like em. Been cooking em up for ya for the last three years. You're twenty-two now, and still ya got a girl running around, cooking your damn eggs."
"Not just any girl. The loveliest little red-headed girl in Evermore." He said lamely.
"Only in Evermore!" She cried.
He shrugged slightly, "It's a big place, and I don't get out much."
At that, she fixed him with a venomous look, her curly red hair swinging feistily "You wizard bastard. Did no-one teach ya how to speak to a girl?"
"Oh, of course. That girl was you." He cried, as he scooped up his plate and ran from the kitchen, straight out the front door and down the stone steps to the cobbled street below. He made good his escape, hearing a furious halfling lass scream after him,
"I'll get ya for that!"
Markus ducked behind the corner of the nearby weaponsmith, as he tucked into his plate still filled with breakfast. Damn that girl is fierce, but she can cook an even meaner breakfast.
The rhythmic ring of hammer on metal resounded through the wooden wall. Across the way, a tailor stood outside their store, holding aloft fine silk as they sang of its quality, and gestured to the men and women walking the street. The occasional yell from the nearby inn, from an enthusiastic patron enthralled in song, pierced the murmur and conversation of the masses. He could feel a slight brush against his arm as the steady throng of people went about their morning in the narrow streets.
He was soon staring at an empty plate and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Markus spun his hands and fingers around it in a circular arc, before reciting what to most ears sounded like gibberish. The plate disappeared from his sight in a small blue flash, and the crowd paid him no mind. Not a bad minor teleportation, if I do say so. The magical energy sapped from his limbs, leaving enough to cast three more spells today.
There was a noticeable strut in his step, as he made his way closer to the city centre of Evermore, and the Lord's castle. His family's estate, granted by the nobility for services both magical and academic in nature, stood in the inner-city districts.
The cobbled streets were quite neat, with only the occasional bit of steaming sewage running through the gutter. In this inner-city area, the buildings consisted of neatly organised houses, estates, and fine artisans, with many of them having glass windows.
The late morning sun glinted off the armour of guards patrolling the streets, and he could make out the occasional woman beneath the un-shapely metal. Constant risk of demonic invasion surely does create a necessity, he thought dryly, I'm sure a few lads dream of being 'arrested' by one of the female guards or templars. Probably a cherry on top for those attending church as well, nothing like a sexy priestess or altar girl to make a man pious.
As he followed the slightly winding and uphill streets towards the centre of the city, alleys gave way to solid masses of buildings with side streets running only every hundred paces. Wooden boards lay atop the buildings, with which the guards and soldiers could access the rooftops.
The streets narrowed instead of widened as the castle beckoned and loomed over the surrounding buildings.
Arriving at the portcullis, he was halted by armed guards donning half plate mail. They stood at attention, the butt of their halberds pressed against the stone paving. Upon their chest was emblazoned the vertical stripes of red, green and gold of the Maine family, the rulers of Evermore.
"You, whom may we be addressing and seeking to gain access to the Lord's castle?" Spoke a clean-shaven man with pale blonde hair, and towering over six feet. A red sash cut across his shoulder and chest, resting beneath his armpit and swaying slightly as he gestured and spoke. The sash identified him as a captain of the castle guard.
"I am Markus, son of Mark, whom is head wizard and adviser to the Lord Edward Maine. I understand my parents have been summoned on a matter and wish to gain entry so that I may speak with them." His voice spoke proudly and confidently.
The gruff voice spoke matter-of-factly "They were summoned, not you. I am under strict orders to allow no-one entry until further notice."
The words brought a rise to him, as his voice became even more haughty "That's ridiculous, my parents are waiting for - "
"I said," he spoke, inching closer to Markus' face and stressing his words "no-one is allowed entry. You'll have to go play with magic until that changes."
Markus huffed slightly at that, taken aback by the impudence of the man. He spun about on his heel and marched off, back towards the solitude of his estate and books.
-----
Attempting to perfect the spell to alter someone's disposition towards the caster was proving more difficult than expected. Markus laboured at his writing desk, with the scratch of his quill against parchment unceasing and urgent. He consulted his books laid across his writing desk on Enchantment magic.
There did seem to be a risk of the spell failing, depending on the strength of will of the target. After several hours of painstaking work, he now gazed down upon his finished notes. That ought to do! This spell seems harmless enough. I should see if it works. There can be no progress without experimentation, and I doubt I'd fail doing such a simple spell.
Mary had given him hell when he had returned, punching him upon the shoulder and threatening to whip his backside and send him to bed without lunch or supper.
He decided a brief test would be in order, as he carefully studied his personal spellbook for several minutes to remember the incantation and physical movements.
"Hey Mary! I need your help with something!" He yelled, his eyes still affixed to the page as he muttered the noises under his breath.
"Ack, what is it this time, young Master?" she sighed, pushing open his bedroom door and stepping inside.
Turning about in his chair, he locked onto her eyes "I wanted to amend what I said earlier. When I said you were the prettiest red-head in Evermore, what I really meant to say was - aay-ar-mnfuuur-soh-ba-leyy." The song was smooth and gently caressed the ear like all Enchantment magic, resounding with a subtle force as he stared deeply into her green eyes. His limbs felt numb and weak for a moment as his energy drained, leaving him enough for two more spells.
Gently he spoke again, "Now Mary, would you please cook me up some of that chicken?"
She stood. Staring into his eyes, her mouth was slightly agape, as drool began slowly running down it.
His voice wavered slightly, "Uhhh Mary?"
Still transfixed and staring blankly, Mary continued drooling. Markus waved his hand in front of her face and gave a few snaps of his finger. She remained unresponsive, and he began to feel a pit in his stomach form and his hands began to shake. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what did I do wrong. He hurried to check his reading, the pages rustling with his urgency as he tried to decipher what had happened. There were no common side effects listed, and puzzling over the energy used to create the spell didn't give him any ideas.
The only possibility remaining was to examine her, to try and sense what effect the spell was having. Fifth pile, 2nd book from the top, page 394! The mountain of books creaked and crashed to the wooden floor as Markus cast them aside in haste, retrieving and then flipping through the red leather-bound book to retrieve the crumbled scrap of paper within.
Written on it was a minor incantation for sensing the type and effects of magic in the immediate area. If I'm going to keep fucking around like this, I really need to write this one down in my book.
Forcing calmness to better focus on the movements and 'words', its completion felt painstakingly slow. Once again, he felt the energy drain from him and was left on his last legs of magical energy. Her small form then brightened and was illuminated by a red, hazy fog that seemed to shift up and down her like the rolling of a mist. Oddly, the fog seemed to coalesce at both her head and her groin.
With trepidation, he inched forward, resting one hand on her forehead, and the other crept forward to rest against her groin. The effect was immediate. Mary's eyes bulged slightly, as her head snapped to look at him.
Green eyes regarded him, a glazed look in them. Her lips parted to let loose a slight moan. The petite girl dropped her weight downward and tackled him below the waist to bowl him over onto his back. She hungrily pounced on him, forcing her tongue into his mouth and straddled his waist with her tiny frame.
"Oh, master. I've wanted this for so long." She moaned between kisses.
Markus lay there shocked, initially unresponsive to her repeated invasions of his mouth. Finally, he managed to come to his senses, gripping her around the waist and lifting her off him easily.
"What's the matter with you, Mary!" He cried, trying to hold the struggling halfling at bay.
"Nothing's the matter, Master. I just need your cock. I need it inside me, Master." She babbled, straining against his hold as she thrashed about in his grip.
Wrestling with the halfling proved no easy task despite her size, as Markus struggled to his feet and tried to keep her at arm's length. I don't think she'll stop struggling, I need to restrain her before I can continue figuring out what's wrong.
Herding her towards his bed forcefully, he tried holding her down gently upon it to give him a moment to think of how to restrain her. He was far too gentle, as she slipped out from beneath his hands. Rising to her knees on the bed, Mary faced him and began tearing at her clothes.
The front of the dress was ripped open and scraps fell to the bed as Mary bared her small perky breasts. They were a milky pale white, her bright pink nipples standing at attention like they had been stimulated by enthusiastic lips.
Markus had never seen a pair of breasts this close. The closest view before now was from the bare-chested serving girls at the Dancing Minx tavern, whom occasionally advertised their wares into the street to tempt would-be patrons. He had furiously blushed then, and it was the same now.