The Creators Ch. 04

"Goddamn Astrid, you're so fucking tight right now!" Mistress moaned as she thrust into me. "There's hardly any room for me!"

"I'm taking up all the real-estate," Hacksaw laughed, giving me a vicious smack on the ass that almost made me come. "Apologies to the rest of you; it's gonna be like an arrow through a canyon."

"I'm not opposed to sharing," Gronk laughed, petting my hair as I sucked him, "what do you think Astrid; can you take two of us back there?"

Don't you fucking say it!

"Sure, Gronk," I sneered deviously from below his shaft, "but I get the feeling that you just want an excuse to cross swords with your friend."

"Maybe I'll fence with Hacksaw right now," he growled, and plunged deep into my throat. I took him easily, swallowed until he was practically whimpering, then withdrew with an evil grin.

"Yeah," I snarled, "tastes just like faggot."

"Holy shit!" Flendian laughed as my hand rand covetously along his length, "Where did Astrid go? This cannot be the same woman!"

"No," Mistress smiled into my eyes as she ran her hands up the curves of my writhing body, "she's not."

"I am still me," I practically growled the words as Hacksaw drove his final thrusts into my ruined gape, "nothing has changed! I haven't changed!"

But you have, my conscience grimly spoke, because valkyries can't lie, and you just did.

"You're no good at lying, Astrid," Mistress moaned as she gripped my breasts, "but it's interesting to hear you try."

"No..." I whimpered, feeling the horror of it mixing with the mind-breaking pleasure, "no... I can't speak untruths."

"I guess truth is a funny thing," Mistress smirked as she pinched her fingers about my erect nipples, and twisted, "it means different things to different people. Do you want Gronk and Flendian to fuck you in the ass?"

"Yes!" I croaked as Hacksaw gripped my hips in a vice-hold, his hands so large that is thumbs connected around the small of my back.

"That was honest," Mistress giggled as she twisted and pulled, stretching my jiggling breasts to conical points, sending wonderful stings into my chest. "Do you want Hacksaw to come inside your virgin shithole?"

"Yes!" I shrieked as the half-giant's thrusts became more and more violent, ripping my prolapsed anus from my body with each pull, and forcing it back inside with each impaling thrust. "Great Creators, I want his seed inside me! I want to be overflowing with it!"

"I don't know much about the Iona Guard oaths," Mistress smiled, still twisting and pulling, still torturing me with delightful agony, "but I seem to remember you saying that putting yourself beneath another for pleasure is a big no-no. Is enjoying getting gangraped in front of an entire brothel against your rules, or is there an exception to that?"

"It is disgraceful!" I shrieked, my chest jutting forward, my hips pushing desperately behind me, trying to take every inch of Hacksaw and Mistress that I could. "I am a disgrace to my order!"

"It doesn't sound like you're too broken-up about it," Mistress laughed, torquing the succulent flesh of my breasts into spiraling creases of mammary fat. "Why don't you abandon your honor, cast out your old self, and join me completely? There's no shame if you have no shame."

"No," I said, my voice breaking as my climax began to roil in my depths, loosening the taut strings of my sanity. "I will stay myself, and I will save you. I will come back from this defeat."

"There's no coming back from this," Mistress said. She released my breasts, wrapped her hands around my throat, and matched Hacksaw's fervent pace. The two of them tore through my insides with wanton abandon, and I screamed higher and higher, my choked voice echoing in the brothel over the cheers of my audience. I basked in their attention; spreading my wings wide, arching my back, raising my head to the ceiling as Mistress's fingers constricted my curved-back throat. Watch me, I thought, much to the dismay of my conscience, fill your eyes with my angelic depravity. You've never seen anything like me before. I grinded atop Mistress and Hacksaw as I readied the men at my sides, my lustful strokes becoming urgent pulls as the pleasure burned into my mind. My rectum convulsed with spasms, twitching pathetically in its prolapsed state, clinging tightly to the man sodomizing me. My pussy frothed around Mistress's ramming member, my petals glistening and swollen between my legs, my womanly channel clenching with the sporadic jolts of euphoria. The feelings culminated together, expanding within me, growing more and more intense, breaking my body and mind. My eyes rolled back in my head, my tongue hung loosely in my mouth, my figure writhed and shifted in simple reaction, no longer controlled by any sort of rationality, but enslaved to the perverse whims of my lust.

I may break all of my oaths, I thought through my screams, through my ecstasy, through my corrupting mind, I may betray everything I stand for, but I will save you, Willowbud. I will find a way. I clung to that thought as I abandoned the vows of my order, and gave in to the depravity of my flesh. Only for now, I told myself, you will come back to yourself after this is over; you haven't changed.

I lied to myself again.

TERA

I held Brandon's arm as we walked down the narrow backstreets of Drastin. The buildings loomed over us, encasing us in the darkness of their shadows, never allowing the sun to shine against the cobblestones. I suspected my contact lived in this part of the city for that exact reason. We were definitely in the seedier part of town. Goblins and orcs strolled around in bands, the crazies hugged the shadows, and an ancient ogre prophesized the end times from his pulpit of crates. Brandon gulped nervously at my side, and I looked up at him with a fond smile. I felt a little guilty about trying to enslave him, but I couldn't pass up on the opportunity. I had hoped that once I got my claws in him, he'd misinterpret his lustful devotion as love and bind with me, but he was too strong for me to take. After what I'd attempted, I doubted Brandon would ever bind with me, but I still wanted to be with him. Whatever Brandon did, wherever he went, history would be made, and I wanted to be a part of it. The world was standing on the precipice of either something great, or something terrible, and Brandon needed friends like me to guide him to the better path. Besides that, I quite liked the boy. He was funny, awkward in an endearing way, and great in bed. Even after three days, I still walked with a slight limp; a constant reminder of Brandon's wonderful version of divine retribution. I rested my head on his shoulder, and stared up at him with adoring eyes.

"What?" Brandon asked, wearing a nervous smile. He tried to appear casual and confident, but he moved with all the grace of a sodomized giraffe. The city really was not for him.

"I was just thinking about Justina," I said with a sad smile. "I had hoped you'd be her first, but it seems she's too impatient."

"I'm not doing anything with her until Angela's out of her head."

"You humans are so prudish about incest," I smiled. "It's completely normal in many races."

"It might be normal for sex-fiends like you," Brandon smirked down at me, "but it is not natural."

"Yes, it is!" I insisted, "If you raise a family of dogs, cats, or any other manner of beasts, the brothers and the sisters will grow up, and they'll mate with one another one-hundred percent of the time."

"And then half their children will be born retarded," Brandon countered, "and the other half will be sterile."

"You know," I smiled coyly as we rounded another corner, "when you make Angela a body, you're going to have to make every part of it. You're going to spend pain-staking hours working on each little detail of her pretty little pussy. If you want, you can model it after mine; then you won't have to imagine what it's like to be inside of her."

"You're fucking disgusting," Brandon grumbled, though he was grinning.

"Oh, you know I am," I smirked back, pressing my body deeper to his.

We stopped at the end of an alleyway, where a studded-iron wood door stood blandly against a stone wall. To most, it would seem an unimportant feature of an unimportant dead-end, but a knowing eye would spot the spiraled symbol carved into the flagstone next to the door. I drew my dagger, cut a thin line into the tip of my forefinger, and then let the blood drip onto the blood gemstone. The door opened with a foreboding creak, and a pair of crimson eyes peered at us from the dark.

"Tera Autumnsong," a soft feminine voice whispered from the shadows, "I was delighted to get your message; I was wondering if I'd ever see you again."

"Gloria," I smiled, "it's been too long."

"Indeed, it has," Gloria Titus said, flashing a smile that gleamed white in the darkness, displaying a set of sharp fangs, "and you brought me dinner, how kind."

"Unfortunately, no," I said, patting Brandon's arm comfortingly before he pissed himself.

"Keeping this one for yourself, hmm?" Gloria replied, her red eyes searching me. "You certainly look well-fed."

"He's delicious," I smirked, "but he's not mine."

"No, I see that now." Gloria said, her gaze gleaming hungrily in the dark, studying the terrified god on my shoulder. "So, he's not your dinner, and he's not mine, and you brought him all the way from..." sniffing sounds wafted from the darkness as the vampire took Brandon into her nostrils, "...wheat, barley, cow shit... Towerhead? You still live in that shithole?"

"Hey!" Brandon exclaimed, "That's my home you're talking about!"

"And it's a shithole," Gloria responded, her red eyes narrowing, causing Brandon to shrink back, "but Tera's never wasted my time before, so she must have a good reason for bringing a hillbilly to my doorstep. Come in, both of you."

I dragged Brandon with me through the threshold, and the door promptly slammed behind us, the clang of the metal latch punctuating the sudden sound. Gloria was as stunning as she'd always been. She had the most pronounced cheekbones I'd ever seen, and they structured a face of gothic beauty. Full, blood-red lips matched the hue of her almond-shaped eyes and contrasted the unnatural paleness of her youthful complexion. Her dark eyebrows seemed to constantly bow inwardly, giving her portrait a menacing expression. Jet-black hair tumbled from her crown in luxuriant curls, and rested upon her narrow shoulders, framing a pale bosom that was barely contained in her corset. The rest of her body bowed in equal gracefulness beneath a tight-fitting skirt, her voluptuous outline matching my own curve-for-curve, with her breasts gaining a slight edge. You would never know that the vampire was three-thousand years old by the youth of her body, but by the aged wisdom in her perpetually-hungry eyes.

Her choice in home décor was as interesting as it had always been. A mural was painted on the domed ceiling, depicting a blood-orgy of debauchery, violence and torture, interrupted only by the extravagant chandelier that hung from its apex. The walls were lined with shelves supporting an immense wealth of books, the floor was covered with plush red carpeting, and the room was decorated with red silk drapes, red curtains and red upholstery bound to extravagant chairs. In one of those chairs, sat a very frightened-looking human girl, shakenly drinking wine and staring at the floor.

"If I had known you were feeding, I would have waited outside," I frowned at Gloria.

"Oh, she's not my meal," Gloria replied with a wave of her hand. "She's an honored guest, like yourself."

"I'm sure," I replied dryly to Gloria, "the line between guest and prisoner was always a thin one with you."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Gloria laughed, pouring three glasses of wine. "Alexa is here by her own volition. Her husband and I are business partners, of sorts."

"We haven't heard anything," the woman named Alexa said fearfully, "Gloria, shouldn't we have heard something by now?"

"Hush," Gloria said softly, placing a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. "Terry's just being careful. Your husband is a cautious man, and if things are taking longer than we thought, it is only because he is waiting for the perfect opportunity. He'll be walking through that door in due time, trust me."

Alexa watched me with panic and contempt, her fingers twisting about the stem of her wine glass, her eyes narrowing at me as though my presence was an insult to her.

"When the door opened, I thought it would be him," Alexa muttered to me, barely managing to bring the wine to her lips, "but it was you. I let my hope rise, and now it's dashed all over again. I can't keep waiting like this!"

"Drink," Gloria said softly, pushing the bottom of Alexa's glass so that it tilted back, "and calm your nerves, woman. Your husband is being brave for you, so you must be brave for him."

The woman downed the glass of wine in a single pull as Gloria soothingly caressed her hair. The combination of wine and Gloria's touch seemed to calm the woman, and she tentatively relaxed into her chair.

"Normally, I would've given you my undivided attention," Gloria said to me as she handed Brandon and I our wine, "but something has come up."

"Do I want to know what this something is?" I asked, studying the nervous woman.

"It shouldn't be a concern;" Gloria replied tersely, "the matter will be taken care of shortly." Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and then leaned in so that Alexa couldn't hear, "But, if Gods forbid, the matter isn't resolved, I sure could use a woman of your unique skill set."

"Those days are behind me," I said between a sip of wine. "I'm a mother now."

"Are you?" Gloria said, displaying a delighted smile whose sharp fangs turned it into a predatory grin. "That's wonderful!"

"Unique skill set?" Brandon asked, looking at me.

"I used to kill people for money," I said to the god, much to Gloria's surprise.

"That information was given out rather freely," Gloria said, glancing from me to Brandon, who was staring at me with wide eyes. "Who is this boy, Tera?"

The light from the chandelier suddenly turned a deep crimson, marking someone's blood on the spiraled symbol outside. Gloria grinned over her shoulder at Alexa, who returned it with a hopeful smile of her own. Gloria strode past us, a slight spring in her graceful gait, and she opened the door. There was a severed head lying atop the door's symbol, and a shadowy figure disappearing behind the corner. There was a moment of stillness, and then a shrill, horrible scream erupted from behind us. Gloria solemnly closed the door as Alexa collapsed to the floor, screeching into the carpeting and shaking with bouts of hysteria. Brandon pulled me close, his body quivering horribly as he tried to find safety in my touch. Gloria made a beeline for the inconsolable widow. She took the screeching woman's head in her hands, tilted it to the side, and then sunk her fangs into her exposed throat. Alexa's wails died to a whimper as Gloria seeped her venom into the woman's heart. She released Alexa from her hold, and then gazed into her filming eyes.

"Look here, Alexa," Gloria said softly, touching foreheads with Alexa until their eyes were inches apart, "look into me, and look deeply."

Alexa's face slackened, her body relaxed, and she slowly collapsed into a languid sprawl on the floor. Gloria guided the woman to her back, never breaking eye contact. She held her gaze above Alexa's face, and gently stroked the woman's tear-streaked cheek as she cooed her soft manipulation.

"Terry died, and it was horrible," Gloria whispered to the widow, "but you've recovered, Alexa; the worst is over. You've grieved enough, you've suffered enough, and now it's time to move on."

Alexa stared dumbly into Gloria's eyes, transfixed by their crimson depths. "Yes," Alexa whispered back, her mind seeming to shift to the whim of the vampire's words, "I've grieved, I've suffered, and now I need to move on."

"It's not safe for you here," Gloria said, tenderly brushing strands of blonde hair from the woman's face, "you must leave Drastin. Take the emergency stash Terry left you, and start a new life under a new name."

"Yes," Alexa said, nodding slightly, "yes, I will go to Grundin, where my parents live."

"Your journey will be long," Gloria said, "so you must rest now, child, and when you awake, you will feel like a new woman. You will abandon this city of pain and suffering, and live the rest of your days with a light heart."

Alexa's eyes drooped, and then closed. A blissful smile creased her lips, and her chest began to rise and fall with the steady thrum of sleeping breaths. Gloria let out a sigh, brushed her black mane back, and then picked the widow up like she weighed nothing at all. She draped Alexa's sleeping body into a loveseat in the corner, then grabbed a wine bottle, and began to chug.

"What kind of enemy do you have," I said slowly, "that knows where you live and doesn't kill you?"

Gloria held out a delaying finger, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of it. She set the bottle down, wiped purple wine from blood-red lips, and then collapsed into her chair.

"An enemy who thinks the proverbial game is just that," Gloria said, massaging her temples, "a game. I'm not sure if Night Eyes is an anarchist, a terrorist, or just fucking insane, but she's so far beyond me, Tera. I don't know how she does what she does, but no matter what I do, no matter what I try, she outmaneuvers me like I'm a child, and then rubs my nose in the shit."

"Stronger than you, Gloria?" I said, sitting down across from her. "What is she?"

"A nymph," Gloria said, "no older than that boy you brought. She was a street urchin as far as I know, though her history is mostly hearsay. She got a reputation as a common thug with a penchant for the obscene, then one day, she decided robbing banks was boring, and she took out the Heslin, Nartok and M'nique gangs."

"Holy shit," I whispered, "she killed the leaders of three syndicates in a day?"

"Ha!" Gloria laughed dryly, taking Alexa's wine glass off the floor and nursing it. "No, Tera; she killed every single one of them, from the bosses to the messenger boys, in three hours. By herself."

My jaw clicked open. Nartok, Heslin and M'nique had at least sixty members a piece when I was last in Drastin, and that was two-hundred years ago. Nymphs could bind with astral beings, but there wasn't an astral being alive strong enough to give anyone that kind of power. Unless...

"How did she kill them?" I asked.

"No one knows," Gloria shrugged, "some of the bodies had holes wider than my foot, some of them were strewn as though the gangsters had turned on each other. Night Eyes usually lets her boys do her dirty work, but when she gets involved personally, she follows your old rule."

"No witnesses, only widows," I muttered, recalling my younger years. Gloria nodded.

"That's fucking badass," Brandon whispered under his breath.

"Do you have any guesses about how Night Eyes does what she does?" I asked Gloria.

"I have a one," Gloria said, leaning forward and swirling the wine in her glass, "do you know about Sentients?"

"Corruption, Wrath and Sorrow?" Brandon said, "They're real?"

"Myths and campfire stories," I said, not quite believing my own disbelief, "astral beings can't think."

"That's a common misconception," Gloria grunted dismissively. "Sentients aren't astral beings, Tera; they're the spirits that Life Givers kept alive, but didn't bind with. Corruption and Sorrow were ancient before my time, but I personally knew the man who would become Wrath."