Sufferance Ch. 01

I obeyed, though my legs began to shift.

"Keep them open." She made it clear she wasn't removing her hand from my crotch until she was ready, and I was not to close my legs.

I had figured this was her intent as soon as she touched me. I was to remain helpless with my hands pressed to the Glyphs; I'd be watching this room and putting up with whatever she wanted to do in silence, until Jaunda was satisfied and ready to leave. It would be just like the times before when I could not resist stealing glances inside the rooms and was being disciplined.

Though this time...I had been invited to look.



I felt my anger rise; I hadn't made a mistake in judgment to deserve it this time. Jaunda had recognized the Draegloth and decided to take some advantage of me. My anger felt old and tired somehow, sluggish but so similar to the anger against my abusive, late sister. All that she had done to me then I had sustained in silence as well; and now? I didn't like that Jaunda got off on this type of power. Or maybe I just didn't like her using it against me.

She began massaging me through the black leather—I'd hadn't yet earned the red uniform, but I had earned a practical one at least—and I tightened my jaw stoically and focused back into the room below me.

The other Drow in the room was bowing, on her knees before the Priestess, Kerse's mother. She was young but perhaps not as young as me, with much shorter hair; she wore a Noble's dress, cut to be loose and teasing around the torso, long to the floor from the waist, with slits on both sides from ankle to mid-thigh. One did not do any hard work wearing such a dress. It was brilliant blue, and all her jewelry was gold and platinum, accenting her wealth. I was looking for an insignia or something to tell me to which House she belonged, or for her to raise her face off the floor. Perhaps I knew her.

"Rise, Curgia," said the Priestess in an imperious alto voice, the deepness exceeded only by the Red Sister Prime. "As much as I condone prostrating for the glory of Lolth, this is thinly veiled self-indulgence. You are trying to appeal to my vanity, not to my connection with our Goddess."

Curgia—who was indeed known to me from Court, though she was very new—raised herself up straight again. She remained on her knees, no doubt thinking about the grit getting into the fine fabric as her classic copper eyes flicked downward a moment. She looked too arrogant for her own good, and from the way small strands of hair were sticking to her temples, getting on her knees hadn't been the first attempt to persuade the Priestess to give her whatever it was she sought.

"That is not true, Priestess! I ask in all earnestness. Your recommendation of House Itlaun for the next worship ball would allow us our first opportunity in four score of years to tithe to Lolth well beyond our normal means. We only wish a chance to prove it."

"In exchange for the unlimited use of a Bred Consort."

Jaunda breathed out on my neck and pressed harder on my sex as she continued massaging me. My body was stiff as the sensation increased and even moved toward pleasurable, but I was still paying very close attention to the conversation.

The younger Drow tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "If our offering does not buy us one, then we would gladly accept him for only a term, if it pleases you."

"Lolth decides the term, not me. Only She can speak for your offering."

"Yes, but She speaks through you," Cugia replied in a testy tone. "Is there anything I could offer in advance of the auction to persuade you to recommend us?"

Kerse's mother looked briefly offended and I could guess why; Curgia was pushing a deal, a blatant transaction that had little to do with faith. Although I did not think other Houses that had been favored with Bred Consorts claimed them in a procedure much different from this, I could see that the Nobles who gained one were not nearly so clumsy in their presentation to the clergy.

Despite the fact that my opinion of those "faith auctions" matched Curgia's, I knew it wasn't a good idea to show one's impatience and desperation to a Priestess, no matter how many hours I'd been made to stand or kneel before her. I wondered what I'd missed thus far, because not only did Kerse's mother next smile ever-so-briefly, but she relaxed her previously stiff posture. It was the same change in posture a spider takes when it knows its prey can't leave its web and has to wait for mealtime.

"Perhaps there is," she said slowly, deeply. "I require a show of faith, young Curgia. Your distinctly secular vocabulary disturbs me, but perhaps the only problem is that your merchant-bred family has gotten too used to each other, and your manners require only a bit of polish. You do have faith in your Goddess's choices, in her Valsharess and her Priestesses, am I right?"

Curgia nodded energetically, looking likewise offended at the description of her family and their manners. "Of course I have faith, Wilsirathon, Chosen of Lolth. That is why I come to you, to help place our House in the path of change. We have seen recent fortune and it's a sign from Lolth that we must pursue aggressively to get our name out there again!"

I almost winced at the lapse back into what is essentially merchant-speak for marketing. But at least now I knew Kerse's mother's title, Athon. It meant she had forgone her birthright, with the Valsharess's approval. Unlike Lelinadara—the Priestess who had tested and healed me—who was a favored daughter but not first born, this Priestess was First Born female of her House Wilsira, and would have been acting Matron if she had not had a higher calling. As it was, the second-born was Matron but the influence of the Wilsirathon on the House Rule was unavoidable. No doubt the second sister made many trips here for "discussion."

"Will you prove it to me, right now beneath the eyes of Lolth, young one?" the elder Priestess, and I saw Kerse shift then, raising his head to look at his mother with interest in his eyes.

Curgia didn't notice, or perhaps she merely refused to look at the Draegloth as so many others did, but I felt a shudder go through me in what almost seemed a premonition. I felt Jaunda's breath just before her lips closed on my earlobe and her strokes on me became slower.

"Yes, I will, Priestess. Anything."

Jaunda chuckled low in my ear, and I finally realized how hot my crotch had become from her attention, how hot my entire body felt. She had thought my shudder was purely from her actions, and while I knew it had more to do with Kerse's suddenly intense eyes, I also felt real pleasure in her touch. My anger and resentment had dissolved into anticipation both for the "anything" Curgia might do, and what Jaunda no doubt would do.

My trainer unbuckled my belt threaded with pouches in record time, letting that fall. The sound was muffled to the softest "paff" in the passageway. Next she began unlacing the leather thongs at my hips, loosening my pants and sliding her hand down my naked flank to my nest of white fur atop my slit. I opened my mouth as her finger slid inside me, though I managed to close my throat against any sound. I usually received better treatment from her if I didn't make the Glyphs work for me in keeping the quiet, but it was all relative.

I heard my trainer sigh then, and my next epiphany was that Jaunda wasn't punishing me now as she had before. Yes, my hands were still firmly trapped on the Glyphs, muffling our noise and heightening our senses, and yes, my legs were still open as she fondled me. That was the same. But she wasn't whispering insults and jabbing into me, she wasn't using pressure points to blend any possible pleasure with pain. She was caressing my mound and merely breathing. It was exploration, not discipline.

I smiled, arched and pressed my backside against her, and heard the barest murmur of approval as she thrust her hips forward once. When she did nothing more than keep her fingers moving slowly in my twat, I took the hint to return my attention to the room.

Wilsirathon let Curgia's last word hang in the air a long time, until the Noble began to fidget again. Kerse was looking directly at her—a rather shocking display of insolence under public custom—but she still did not acknowledge he was there. I found myself hoping that Kerse would get a try at her snatch—and wouldn't she hate it if he succeeded! I felt a spike in my own arousal imagining him humping her; I'd never liked her.

"Remain on your knees," the Priestess said now, "and place your elbows on the ground. Let us take a moment of reverence for our Lady of the Web."

Curgia hesitated a little too long in my opinion, but she slowly lowered herself to rest on her elbows, still trying to look up at the Priestess. I grinned; the young Noble's hips were higher up than anything else so it was easy to imagine Wilsirathon walking behind her, lifting her dress up, and inviting Kerse to mount her. Curgia wasn't a warrior; I wondered if she would fight or just protest?

"Place your forehead on the ground."

Nothing was quick about this; I heard murmured prayers for several minutes as Curgia kept her eyes down and subtly started inching her legs together, as Kerse weaved slowly, and even I was getting impatient. What was the proof she wanted to see?

Finally the elder Priestess stood up from her chair and walked toward her worshipping trader, circling around her as I had imgined, studying her form. Kerse stayed where he was. Wilsirathon tapped her own cheek with a bejeweled finger, her expression thoughtful and bemused. I watched for sadism as well, but if it was there, it was well-hidden. How could she not love where she stood, how Curgia presented? I glanced at Kerse again and took comfort in my prediction; he did have an erection beneath that cloth.

"Is it you?" Wilsirathon asked.

"Priestess?" the younger replied in confusion.

"Who is to conceive first, should your House be so favored with a Consort? Is it you?"

I saw Curgia swallow; I wasn't sure why. If she was the one fighting hard for the purchase of a Bred Consort, then why shouldn't she enjoy the fruits first? This thought, however, brought back to me both the intense, divine orgasm when I'd first impaled myself on such a gorgeous male...and it also brought back the fact that I'd forced his participation despite his protests, taken him without permission, so desperate I'd been in divine need.

And I was tempted to swallow as well. The very concept of the Bred Consorts were a whole fungus field of potential social blunders, so far removed were they from our daily lives and so coveted was their seed. Even though I hadn't realized what he'd been when I'd violated his perfect body, I'd still committed a sin in the eyes of the Priesthood, much worse than Curgia's frank bargaining. Only the Red Sisterhood's secrecy protected me from outright punishment, I knew.

"The ball is mere cycles away, a cluster of hours" the Priestess continued. "Are you purifying yourself already to heighten your receptivity?"

"Uh—"

Kerse's mother moved quickly—surprising us both—and lifted Curgia's dress to expose her raised backside; like most of us who were well-off, she had no underclothes. The young Noble's legs were pressed together, making it hard to see her sex even if I hadn't been at a side-view angle from her anyway. But her skin was smooth and healthy, her curves softer and more fleshy than mine for being mercantile over military.

Curgia moved to rise up on her arms, perhaps to move forward, as she opened her mouth to say something.

"STAY AS YOU ARE!" Wilsirathon barked so loudly that it echoed and hurt my ears. Jaunda behind me hissed in discomfort and her fingers stopped moving inside me for a moment.

We all waited as Curgia froze then reluctantly settled down. The Priestess then leaned down and took a dignified whiff of her scent, not thrusting her nose into the Noble's crotch at all but still lifting the warm air near her skin. She stroked and patted the younger Drow's haunches before straightening herself, leaving the dress resting on her hips. I saw a spread of tiny bumps arise on Curgia's flesh and I knew she felt vulnerable.

"I can smell it," the Priestess said, walking around to the front again. "The fertility herbs, their essence seeping through your skin. You have been preparing, I daresay bathing your insides with them. So certain, are you?"

"Hopeful," the young one murmured, trying to downplay it. "Why not give it the best chance? It is my Matron's goal, I will do whatever I can to make it so."

"Indeed. Not aging well, is she? That she'd want you as the broodmare."

If there hadn't been candlelight in the room, I'd have bet that Curgia's rage would have shown like a beacon in the dark. "I was chosen, and I am loyal to my House."

"And the status means nothing to you?"

"Status means everything. That's why I'm here."

"But you have been saying you're not here primarily for yourself," the Priestess continued. "If your House were favored with a Consort, could you see another conceive first, ahead of you?"

Curgia was silent.

"I've given you much of my time, and you've said many things, Noble. I want to know if you will back them up, in the name of Lolth. If your House is worthy of my support."

The young Noble's body language began to show obvious signs of nervousness and dread; I could see her toes flex in her sandals, her chest expand more, her bottom lip tremble. "How?"

"Give up your own plans to conceive first, and I will grant my recommendation to House Itlaun at the ball."

Curgia tentatively raised her head, and when she wasn't shouted at again, she looked up at the Priestess. Her expression seemed to ask, *That's all?*

I thought she was right to be suspicious.

"You'll notice I added 'first'," Wilsirathon smiled encouragingly, still without the sadism I had fully expected to see. "You may still conceive. Doesn't that speak well for the length of the term that your House might keep the Consort?"

Curgia nodded carefully. "Yes, Priestess."

"So? Can you give up first claim, young merchant?"

The air was heavy and the merchant was obviously having trouble coming to terms with the deal. She wanted to make a counter-offer, but she wasn't in the position—literally and socially—to do so. All her usual tactics were useless and she was at a loss.

She could only agree, or refuse and leave, and House Itlaun would not have another chance at a Consort for another generation. Jaunda and I waited in near stillness for her answer. I'd been watching Kerse, too, and his interest in the exchange had not wavered; he watched and listened to everything.

"Very well," Curgia said, the bitterness loaded in her throat. "I will...give up first claim, if you will recommend my House for Lolth's Blessing at this season's ball."

The elder nodded in satisfaction. "I still require a guarantee, a show of faith, young Noble. I know merchants find ways to go back on a deal."

"It is a sacred agreement, Priestess, I would not dare!"

Lolth's Chosen finally chuckled. "And you know how well our own Lady changes her mind."

The young Drow's mouth hung open a bit as she tried to work out how the Priestess could be so zealous of her faith yet acknowledge how fickle the Goddess really was. In that time, Wilsirathon gestured to Kerse, who came forward immediately and very eagerly, crouching again beside his mother. She reached casually to untuck his groin wrap and pull it away, displaying the very first sight I'd ever had of the Draegloth: turgid and ready to couple.

Curgia's eyes found him as well and they widened considerably. She started to shake her head.

"Where is that guarantee, Curgia?" the Priestess asked quietly, and I could hear the threat in her deep voice. "Show me the faith in our agreement."

The younger Drow trembled, and I saw actual tears come to her eyes. "What guarantee do you want?"

"See to my son's need," came the reply, and it felt unfinished to me when Kerse scooted forward on all fours and crawled partly over Curgia's prone body, his erection clearly aimed at her lips as the white crown of her head brushed against his dark belly.

"Oh, this is good," Jaunda said to me, the glee evident even in a whisper, as her fingers started moving faster again as she started to grind herself against my backside.

I agreed with the sentiment, the pleasure of her touch enhanced by the view. While I'd imagined a reluctant mounting originally, Kerse thrusting into this Noble's mouth was just as good of a show.

Curgia hesitated a long time again as Kerse snuffled over her backside, rumbling low in his chest and sounding pleased as his mother watched silently. The young one was trying to find justification for willingly letting the rigid, demonic rod slip past her teeth.

*Come on, merchant, what else can you do?* I thought. *With all those fertility herbs in your blood, just be glad he isn't plundering your quim...*

The kneeling Drow must have had the same thought because she suddenly opened her mouth and took him as far as she could, actually seeming to make an effort to pleasure him. I saw a flash of pink tongue as she tilted her head, licking and swirling at him, and Kerse rumbled louder, his muscles tightening as he stretched his throat and lifted his head upward, a drop of spit falling onto her exposed buttocks.

The Draegloth humped at her throat with some restraint as he glanced twice at the Priestess. I wondered briefly if he was picking up subtle signals from her, but Jaunda was dry humping me hard with her crotch by now; it was getting distracting. I watched Kerse reach both huge hands to maul Curgia's flesh, first fumbling underneath for her covered breasts, pawing at her sides, and then moving to squeeze and knead her exposed haunches. It didn't take long before he was licking and slobbering in her crack.

I heard Curgia squeak and squeal a few times, writhing. I didn't think she was enjoying it; they were sounds of protest and distaste. I remembered the way Kerse had licked me once from nub to pucker; frankly, it hadn't been that bad.

Jaunda eased off grinding into me, her hand leaving my twat entirely as she drew back, and I left the sight of Curgia's dismay to glance back over my shoulder.

The elder Red Sister was getting something out of her pouch before undoing her own belt to set it down near our feet. Then she loosened and pushed down her red leathers expertly and I realized she was inserting a stiff phallus into herself.

She was going to fuck me against the wall as we watched. However many times I'd been disciplined against the wall just like this, she'd never brought out the phallus before. She reserved that for playtime.

My wet slit pulsed once in desire, aching for the penetration, but I couldn't remove my hands from the wall to push down my own pants the rest of the way. I had to wait for Jaunda's strong hands to shove them down. She did so impatiently, kicking my ankles wider before aiming the head at my drooling nethermouth, pressing and spearing it inside me with one stroke.

I choked on a groan as the force of Jaunda's thrusts pushed me closer to the stone. Even after these couple months, after being subjected to it many times, I didn't quite understand how it was that, in just this one secretive group, the Red Sister roleplaying the weaker sex always maintained dominance and control over the coupling. It was supposed to be the other way around.

The only consistency seemed to be in the jealously-guarded phallus itself. Instead of an unfeeling, unwieldy, and all-too-fake pole, the Red Sisters would regularly use a magical one on each other. It not only became life-like and solid when temporarily bound with a Sister's body, but she could also feel the inside of her partner through it as well. She could achieve climax rather like a male did, but without the messy spurting.