The Demon Queen's Tower Pt. 03

Part 3: An Audience with Zzaral

"Time to wash up, slut!" barked Ormgard, clanging her baton against the bars of Aznar's cell. Aznar stirred, groaning. His limbs were leaden, his joints ached, and even though the dungeon was dark with perpetual timeless night, he was certain he hadn't eaten anything in at least a day. He turned over and saw the huge woman, flanked by two heavily muscled guards, their red scaly skin and fanged jaws denoting clearing their infernal origins.

"When do I get fed?" he said, his eyes narrow and dangerous. The two guards laughed. The bars swung wide, and Ormgard stepped into the cell, a bucket of water with a rag hanging from it in one hand.

"Not until after your audience with her Ladyship," grinned Ormgard, dropping the bucket on the ground. She crouched low and undid the locks on his chains, freeing him from the manacles. He rubbed his wrists where the metal had scraped his flesh raw. "Don't try nothin' stupid now, slut," she said, her voice low with menace. "You wash up quick like, and then I'm to take you upstairs. Hurry!"

The water was cold, but it helped bring some life back into him. He drank a little, then ran the wet rag over his body, the grime and dirt running from him in great, gray rivulets that pooled thickly on the floor. He dunked his head in the bucket, and came up puffing.

"Here," said Ormgard, tossing him a coarse towel. "Dry off! Quick!"

"What about clothes," he asked, rubbing his head with the towel. The two devil guards laughed again, their voices cruel as a rockfall in a lifeless valley.

"You won't need 'em," she answered.

"I'll freeze to death," he complained.

"It'll be warm enough, trust me. Now come here!" He stepped forward, and Ormgard placed an iron collar around his thick neck. A heavy chain ran from this newest shackle and into her huge hand. She gave it a meaningful rattle, and then lead him to the door.

Naked, Aznar followed Ormgard out of the cell and down the hall, the two hulking devils marching heavily along behind. They went through the distant door and up a long, twisting staircase, finally emerging into a wide antechamber. At one end was a huge doubledoor, flanked by two more devils armed with huge spears. Prodded along, Aznar stumbled after his jailor, following her through a smaller side door and up another long twisting staircase.

They were in a tower, much airier and cleaner than the dim, filthy dungeon, and the stair was filled with a wan daylight that seemed bright and nearly blinding to his unaccustomed eyes. There were narrow windows in the walls, no more than a handspan wide but very tall, and as they passed these, Aznar was able to look out and down on the neighboring gray mountain peaks, seeing them march towards the distant, hazy horizon. As they rounded another corner on their ascent, he recognized the distant spire of Mount Abazand in the distance, though from a side he'd never seen before. Further on, as they passed a window on the opposite side of the tower, he spied the trio of peaks the Lowlanders called "The Sisters," a landmark used by many of the heavily guarded caravans that dared the western passes in the summer months.

"We're in the mountains then," he thought to himself, "somewhere between the valley of Olagg and the Rubble Hills!" He marveled at that - they were many hundreds of miles distant from where he'd had his ill-fated meeting with the wizard Amblach. Still, he felt a surge of hope. At least now he knew where he was.

They reached a landing of heavy iron that guarded a huge door of carved ivory, demonic and mortal shapes cavorting obscenely across its milky surface. Orgmard reached for a silken cord that hung to the side of the great door, and Aznar heard the silvery chuckle of a bell from within. Then the doors swung open, and the guards pushed him forward into the Audience Chamber of Zzaral.

It was a huge, round room, a hundred feet wide at least, and crowned by a dome that seemed to climb high into the misty firmament overhead. Sconces and braziers full of fuming incense filled the air of the Hall with strange scents, and the lights of many lamps were reflected on the polished marble floor and against the burnished golden statues that lined the walls. In the center of the Chamber was a shallow basin, ten feet across, filled to the brim with bright, clear water. And beyond that, seated atop a huge throne raised high on a dais of basalt, was Zzaral herself, naked and glorious.

The two devilish guards took up positions by the ivory door, and Ormgard lead Aznar forward, his head high as he stared at the woman seated upon the throne. She lounged indolently, a leg up over the arm of her royal seat, her chin in the palm of her hand. She had, without a doubt, the most perfect body he had ever seen. Seated lazily on the throne she was a serpentine beauty, every curve and arc and angle of her body a study in perfected form. She was naked, and her skin had a rich emerald tint to it, a color that reminded him of the deep glow of the jewels the Mad Monks of Fuar-An-Ti pulled from the Nameless River, far to the south. Her hair was a color he had never seen before, violet and flaming as the setting sun, and her red eyes flashed from beneath her heavy-lidded gaze.

Orgmard led Aznar around the basin and set him a few dozen feet before the throne. She placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him down, kneeling before Zzaral, who yawned and waved her hand.

"My Lady Zzaral," boomed Ormgard, bowing her head reverently. "Your newest slave, Aznar!" The woman on the throne sighed, swung her leg around, and stood up, stretching her marvelous body languorously, running her hands through her thick mane of hair, creating an uninterrupted line from her feet, through her curved hips, all the way to the tips of her outstretched fingers. Aznar felt his cock stir - she was female perfection, flawlessly beautiful, and her every movement crackled with unsuppressed sensuality. He marveled at the delicate interplay of the muscles beneath her flawless skin as she descended the stairs of the dais and walked towards him.

"Rise," she said, her voice low and musical, sultry as summer night. Ormgard pulled on the chain, and Aznar stood slowly, watching with hot eyes the gorgeous demoness who was his enemy. Her face blank and bored, she stood before him, appraising him as one would a horse, carefully and expertly weighing his merits and limitations.

He towered over her; she was no more than five feet tall, but wonderfully full-figured. Up-close, he felt her attraction all that much stronger, his arousal immediate and involuntary. Her voluptuousness was perfect, round full hips that led to a slim, strong waist, crowned by perfect breasts devilishly firm and proud. Her mound was nested with the same violet hair that cascaded thickly from her scalp and down her back. She took a turn around him, her flanks and her ass high and wonderfully heavy. His cock was at full-mast now, and she nodded as she observed its length and width.

"Does it speak?" she said, looking into his black eyes curiously.

"I can speak, harlot of hell," snarled Aznar. Ormgard gave a sharp tug of the chain, and only his own iron muscles kept him from being dragged backwards. Zzaral smirked and raised a hand, and Aznar felt the chain slacken, slightly.

"You know of me?" asked the Demon Queen.

"I know what you are," said Aznar. "A succubus from the Pit, a monster who drains vitality from her lovers." She nodded, happily.

"That is true, though perhaps you wonder why I lurk here, in these lonely wastes, rather than seeking my prey abroad in the cities of men?" She smiled at him, and then stepped forward to suddenly grip his hard cock. Her hand was soft, her grip tight, her skin warm. Aznar gasped in sudden pleasure. "As you know, man, we succubi draw strength from mortals, much as you do from the filthy mastication of food you are forced to partake in." She slowly stroked his cock as she spoke, making him pant. "And, in much the same way, the quality of what we consume effects our health. Were you to eat trash, well, then would you not be afflicted? Weakened? Laid low by disease and sickness? So too it is with me; were I to simply stalk unconcerned and undiscerning among mortals, I too would be made base!" She released his cock, and he moaned in frustration. Zzaral stepped back and raised her arms high over her head, undulating with slow, sensual rhythm before him.

"But look at me, man," she said, running a hand over her curves, stroking her hips and cupping her breasts. "I am glory itself, perfection! That is because I am picky - only the finest meat for my table!" She laughed, and it was a terrible, cruel sound, evil and mocking. A sudden anger flared in Aznar.

"Beautiful you may be," he growled. "but I know for a fact that you receive no pleasure from your depredations! The other prisoners below have told me! Are you cold for all your heat? Or perhaps you rely only on your looks in the bedchamber?" Here he laughed. "I have known that type too - beautiful to look upon, but a cold fish in the sack! Perhaps that is the real reason why you must kidnap your lovers?" He heard a snarl behind him, and felt the sudden violent tug of the chain, dragging him choking to his knees. Zzaral watched him struggle, impassively, then shrugged.

"I have little interest in the rutting of animals," she said simply. "What you call 'pleasure' I call a disgusting side-effect of your faulty and primitive biology. What I enjoy is power," she said, a sudden hunger coming into her voice. "Power to take, to command, to be strong - that is what I get from those such as you." He voice rose, echoing terribly through the domed chamber. "Your vitality shall make me more beautiful, more seductive, more undeniable, and as I become perfected, I shall seek out the greatest, holiest celibates! Full of your life, full of the life of others like you, I shall corrupt the incorruptible! As their souls fall from Grace, my fortunes in Hell shall rise, until I alone stand atop the pyramid, and am made truly the Queen of Demons!" She shrieked the last words, her words a hellish cacophony of furious ambition that made him shiver to see it. She was mad, and powerful, and cruel.

Panting, she lowered her arms, and rearranged her hair, mussed in the throws of her ranting.

"But I appreciate your spirit of defiance," she said when she was composed. "It speaks of a vigorous soul. Well done, Amblach," she said, turning her elegant neck towards her throne where, unnoticed by Aznar, the black-robed wizard had lurked in the shadows. He stepped forward and gave a low, long bow.

"Thank you, Lady," he mewed. "He is strong and full of life - he will serve you well."

"For a time, at least," she said, turning back towards Aznar, a cruel smile on her lips. "But first, the test! We must make certain that you are fit to nourish me!" She strode back up the stairs of the dais and resumed her seat upon the throne. The thin wizard stepped forward, a leering smile on his face. Aznar noticed that he too was hard beneath his robes, and that the wizard was again idly rubbing his cock through the cloth.

"Yes, my Ladyship! We shall first take...a sample," he raised his free hand and muttered an incantation. Aznar braced himself for a blast of magic, but nothing came, no engulfing flames or writhing shadows. Instead, he heard a bubbling, gurgling, splashing sound behind him. Turning, he saw the wide, shallow basin in the center of the room churning, the water roiling and rising, as if a school of frenzied sharks thrashed there. As he watched, stunned, he saw a pillar begin to rise, a column of water that rose up to his height. It grew suddenly still and calm, and he watched the bubbles float and roll in its blue depths. Then, the column moved forward, and as it did it grew vaguely humanoid, limbs detaching from the main mass of water, a crude round head bubbling up and out of the shape's top. As it approached the rim of the bowl, it grew more human-like, the limbs becoming sharper, cleaner, a waist forming, the head differentiating itself from a graceful neck. Aznar gasped as the shape became that of a woman, full hips and round breasts, all made entirely of water, a featureless face but with a body shape that had all the right curves, though they were semi-transparent and filled with a blue, limpid light.

The water woman walked towards him, hips swaying alluringly, and placed a hand on his chest. It felt warm and gentle as bathwater against his skin. She leaned close, twining a leg around his and gripping his hard cock with her other hand. He groaned with pleasure.

"What is this sorcery?" he said, closing his eyes as the thing leaned its head against his neck, planting a series of warm tickling waves like kisses on his neck.

"A water elemental," rasped Amblach the wizard. Aznar turned to look at the willowy mage. His robes were again open, and he was stroking his sorcerous cock. "I have summoned it for you. Fuck it, Aznar the Bold, come inside it, that we may have a sample of your vigor."

The Elemental released his cock and slid slowly to its knees, its hands running down his chest and over his abs. A long, sinuous tendril stretched from its faceless head and wrapped like a tongue around his cock. He moaned. The warmth of the thing's "tongue" was delectable, and the way it slipped over his hard cock, each stroke frictionless and wonderfully wet, sent a jolt that he felt to the root. He looked down at the figure, bowing before his cock, and watched it lick his full length.

"Touch her," moaned the wizard, behind him.

"Fuck her face," growled Ormgard. She was standing near, the chain gripped in one hand, and the other down the front of her skirt. "Make her take that cock!"

He reached out carefully, and placed his hand on the elemental's head. It was warm and there was a little give, but there was strong surface tension there - she was solid, more or less. It tilted its head up, and had it eyes he'd have been looking right into them. Instead, all he saw was the swirling, bubbling interior of the elemental's watery body. As he watched, a "mouth" formed, complete with full pouting lips, the long tongue dangling out of it. The elemental nodded up at him, and he grinned. Its head gripped in his two hands, he plunged his hard cock into its mouth, and groaned loudly as he felt it engulf his cock.

Warm, and wet, and with a steady rippling series of internal waves dancing along the length of his cock, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The water seemed to flutter around his cock, squeezing and stroking and massaging him all at once. He felt the long tongue snake out to caress his balls. The elemental drug its hands up the backs of his thighs and gripped his ass, pulling him with surprising strength into its mouth. He grinned, and obliged it but thrusting forward, his hips slapping against its face, making the surface ripple and splash with his powerful thrusts.

"Fuck yes," hissed Ormgard, her hand moving rapidly beneath her skirt.

He fucked it hard, abandoning himself to the sensation - the thing taking his cock was an elemental, and its mouth just a conveniently formed and fully transient hole it had made for him to use. His proximity to Zzaral the succubus had made his cock feel harder than ever, and to have Ormgard and the wizard masturbating as they watched him...he glanced towards the door, and saw the two demonic guards had their scaly cocks out, stroking them and grunting in rhythm to his own thrusting motions. His head was spinning. He loved it - he loved to fuck, he loved to have people watch him as he fucked, he wanted to come, to shout and spray his come for all of them to see. He turned to look to Zzaral.

She was seated on the throne, her legs crossed, a bored look on her face as she examined a delicate finger nail. She paused, looked at Aznar, and then resumed her grooming, flicking a speck of dirt away with a grimace of disgust.

He slowed his thrusts, fighting against the steady pull and the strong suction of the elemental before him. He swallowed hard, and focused. His cock ached. He had been close, and it was only his iron discipline and great pride that allowed him to step back from the brink. He needed to show that he was not ruled solely by his cock. They had expected him to simply come, a few thrusts into the elemental's amazing, warm, rippling mouth, and then he'd come. If his plan was going to work, he needed to draw this out.

"What's wrong with you?" barked Ormgard. She was sweating and naked now, her short skirt cast aside so she could more easily maul her clit. Her voice was sharp, angry, but there was something else there: frustration and need. She needed to see him fuck the elemental. He grinned at her, then tossed his head over his shoulder and looked at Amblach. The same hungry confusion was on his face.

Good - he needed them to feel it.

"I like to enjoy myself," he said, sneering up at Zzaral, who looked annoyed. With a pop, he extracted his cock from the elemental's mouth, which remained open and hungry, the tongue wagging up at him. It was confused - it had one purpose, and it wasn't being allowed to fulfill it.

Aznar reached behind and took one of the elemental's hands in his own, guiding it up the cleft of his muscular ass. He spread his cheeks, and placed its hand against his own hole. He heard Amblach gasp behind him, and saw Ormgard's eye's light up.

"Fuck my ass," he said to the elemental, sliding his cock against its face, running the length of it up against the warm, tense surface of the elemental's outer skin. He felt it push against his hole, then flow into him, warm and full, firm and fluid all at once, like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was its own lubrication, and it massaged him like he'd never been massaged before. He threw his head back and groaned.

"Fucking hell," moaned Ormgard, her hand flying over her clit. "Look at that, yeah, fucking take it in the ass you slut!"

The elemental was utterly alien to this plane of existence, but it understood pleasure. It responded to his moans and the rolling of his hips by moving faster, fucking his ass with its tendril-fingers with deep, rapid thrusts. He humped his cock against its face, slipping against its wet skin.

"My balls," he growled, shaking his head with pleasure. "Tongue them!" The elemental wrapped his balls in its tongue, then leaned in and took them in its mouth, warm and bubbly, fizzing with pleasure. He gasped and thrust his cock harder. The elemental was rubbing against his prostate, producing shuddering jolts of pleasure that strummed inside him with an unbelievable, electric pleasure.

The elemental felt it too, felt him getting close. He was hunching farther forward with each stroke, canting his hips up to get more of the elemental into his ass. His cock thwapped against the top of its head, pulsing, ready. He was making deep, animalistic grunts, focusing on the pleasure, so he didn't notice immediately that the elemental began to flow and change beneath him. It kept fucking his ass but it abandoned his cock and, becoming suddenly amorphous, ran like a flood between his legs. He gasped to feel the sudden coolness of the air against his cock, and turned to look over his shoulder as the elemental reformed behind him, wide womanly hips pressed against his ass, heavy warm breasts against his back.

But now, instead of its hand in his ass, it had a cock, a long, rigid, sturdy rod protruding proudly from its groin, the bubbles swirling rapidly within it as it grew and expanded.

"Fuck!" gasped the wizard, his hand sliding up and down his cock as he stared at the scene before him. Ormgard made a guttural growl deep in her throat as she rocked her own hips against her hand.

The elemental gripped his mighty biceps and slid slowly back, giving Aznar a chance to see the perfectly formed water-cock in all its slick, rippling glory. He grinned, and then shouted in pleasure as the elemental drove its cock into his ass with one sudden, powerful thrust. Perfectly liquid and yet, somehow, strong and solid, that cock made him see stars as the elemental pounded hard against his ass.