The Order Ch. 04

"No one?" She let out a slightly strained laugh. "No one seeks the honor of the Lady's kiss?"

Again, little more than a murmur escaped the crowd. Then, just as Brigit was poised to speak again, there was a giggle.

"Oh?" Brigit said. "And which of you finds the ceremony amusing?"

A cluster of Adepts shifted nervously before parting, leaving a lone girl. Colm thought he heard one of the Princesses gasp.

"Feather," called Brigit sweetly. "Come to us."

"My Queen, my a-a-apologies," stammered the young Adept. "I meant no offense." She seemed rooted to the spot.

"Not at all," said Brigit in a soothing voice. "Please, join us here."

Head hung, Feather circled the pool to join the cluster of Princesses and their Queen. To Colm, she had an air of appealing vulnerability. Her build was slender, with small breasts, delicate limbs, and a spray of fine blonde hair about her shoulders. She was pretty in a fresh, unspoiled way, with a small, soft mouth. Brigit stroked her hair.

"Now, I know you'd never make fun of the most important event in an Adept's ascension. You're just excited, right?"

"Yes, Queen. I'm just excited." Feather looked about her, eyes finding the Princess who had gasped earlier. "The ceremony is beautiful."

"Yes," agreed Brigit, still stroking the girl's hair. "Your ceremony will be so beautiful. Tonight you will ride this man, test him, and take his strength."

"No! I mean, my Queen, please. Feather isn't strong enough yet. She isn't ready." This outburst arose from the Princess who had Feather's eye.

"Cairin," Brigit said. "Feather herself has spoken. She is excited for the ceremony." The Queen wore a cool expression.

"But the ring he wears." Cairin continued recklessly. "You've heard Erynn. He's dangerous!"

"The ring is a toy next to the power of the Order. And your attachment to the girl is unseemly." Brigit tossed her hair, plainly vexed. "The ceremony will proceed as I have declared. And you, unless you have lost your faith in the Lady, will lead us in the chant. The Order protects its own."

Fearful but compliant, the Adept named Feather allowed herself to be led back to the far side of the pool. Cairin began a low chant, nervously encouraging the others to join in.

Colm watched with morbid fascination. As Feather passed through the crowd of Adepts, each in turn reached out to her. The first few tore at her gown, tugging it from her shoulders. The next stroked her skin, groped her, or ran their fingers through her fine hair. Now the group pressed close, slowing the girl enough to snatch a kiss or dart a tongue into her ear. Pale in the flickering torchlight, Feather briefly would disappear from view as her peers surrounded her, tongues seeking her mouth, her breasts, slender fingers exploring her damp slit. At last, panting raggedly, the Adept emerged next to the Queen. Next to Colm.

Brigit, taking her prerogative as Queen, kissed Feather full on the mouth, sliding her tongue in wetly while skilled fingers assessed the girl's condition.

"Mmmm, you're ready," Brigit purred. She pressed a vial into the girl's hand. "Just one drop."

The silver potion was familiar to Colm. As before, he watched helplessly as the clearly nervous Adept applied a drop to his organ. Immediately, a rush both of scorching heat and numbing cold coursed into him. Colm had already been aroused by the sight of Feather's erotic progression through the crowd. The potion took him the rest of the way. Within less than ten heartbeats his cock swelled to almost impossible hardness. Feather took a step back.

Brigit calmed the girl, stroking her hair. "You need to be strong for the Lady," she said. "Let us help you."

The Queen, accompanied by an attentive First Princess, guided the girl to straddle Colm. "Just slide on him," the Princess suggested, rocking Feather's hips forward.

Colm struggled pointlessly against his bonds. Above him, the fearful Adept pressed her damp gash against his organ. As the silver potion worked its magic on her as well, Feather's eyes opened in surprise. Even in the torchlight, Colm could see they were the most lovely pale blue.

The chant swelled, led by an obviously agitated Cairin. The Princess darted her glance left and right, looking for allies. Finding none, she redoubled the chant.

Feather slid forward again, then back. Again. Farther this time, the girl pressed herself almost to his sack, then slid forward along the full length until the head of Colm's cock brushed her clit. Brigit and the Princess exchanged glances. The next time Feather slid forward the Princess, with a deft hand, lifted Colm's organ to her opening. When Feather began to slide back she felt the engorged head push into her. She wriggled, but it was too late. Two sets of hands pushed, impaling her on the man's brutally hard cock. Feather cried out in pain and surprise.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah," she gasped. "Owwwwwww. Oh, fuck!" Feather collapsed again Colm, gasping.

"Hush," whispered Brigit. She leaned in, pressing her mouth close to the Adept's ear. "He's yours now. Conquer him!" Both she and the Princess stepped away as the chant swelled yet again.

Feather lay against him, whimpering. Her slit was blissfully snug, enveloping Colm's rod in slickness. Faintly, her skin smelled of flowers from some exotic scent or oil. Her hair spilled over his chest, tickling him.

Finally, the chant seemed to rouse her. Moving subtly to its rhythm, Feather pulled herself slightly away from, then back against Colm's manhood. She sniffed. A tear dropped to Colm's chest, followed by another. The Adept repeated the motion, this time moving slightly farther up and back along his cock. She pushed herself up with her hands to face him. The young woman's face was a mask of uncertainty.

Neither was Colm sure what peril the encounter held. His ring had protected him during previous encounters with the Order, but those had been isolated meetings. Here, Feather had behind her the backing of scores of Adepts and Princesses. Their surging chant swept around him. Was there magic in it, as their Queen had suggested?

"Yes," Brigit urged. "Ride him now. Give yourself to him that he will give his strength to you!"

Heeding her, Feather began to turn her slow grind into more regular movements. Her slim hips rose, gingerly descended, then rose again. The Adept sobbed once, sending another tear trickling down her neck. The girl to Colm seemed even more vulnerable than when first he had seen her, a delicate beauty. Vulnerable or not, gradually Feather warmed to their coupling, hips rising and falling faster. Soon, the slickness of her arousal coated the length of Colm's shaft. Truly she rode him.

"Unh," Colm grunted, unwillingly. The girl's fragile beauty, combined with the grip of her snug, wet pussy was blissful. Blonde hair tossed around her, a halo lit by torchlight. Feather's small breasts bobbed as her sleek body gyrated on him, twisting against his cock. Now resting her slender arms on Colm's chest, she ran her fingers through his thick hair and across his scar.

"Ooooh Lady," Feather called out softly. "It's... oh, nice. Oh."

The others pressed in. Soft touches found Colm, tracing across his jaw, chest, and sides. Others found Feather, turning her head for a fleeting kiss or bending gracefully to tongue a nipple. One daring Adept flicked her tongue into Feather's ear then repeated the move for Colm, a novel, exquisite spark of pleasure. He groaned. Hands tentatively groped the muscles of his thighs and arms before pulling back.

The sensations began to overwhelm Colm. Still uncertain, the young man was tempted to give in to the barrage of sensations. Why fight it? His body was building toward a powerful climax. Should he resist he would buy time. Perhaps he could hold out a few minutes longer. Conceivably, though he considered the possibility extremely unlikely, Feather's strength might falter before she could unite them in ecstasy. What then? Surely another Adept would take her place. He would have to trust the ring.

"Unnnnnh," he groaned aloud. "Fuck!"

Feather practically danced on him now. Panting with exertion, the slender Adept rode Colm vigorously. A series of pumps, her butt slapping against his thighs would give way to a low grind, her slight body pressed warmly against his. During one such moment she bent low to whisper in his ear.

"Ooooh slave," she moaned. "I'm glad." She ground against him, wriggling her drenched slit down his shaft. "I'm glad you hurt them." Her voice was the faintest whisper, meant only for Colm. "When I take you, when I feel the Lady's kiss, I will become a Princess." She reached the base, pressing him against her insides. She winced. "Your cock is splitting me but, I'll be your last."

Beyond caring, Colm groaned in ecstasy. His organ was buried in wet, welcoming female flesh, his skin caressed and teased with kisses. The chant neared its crest, as did Colm. Slowly, he arched back, mouth opening for one final cry of delight. He spotted Cairin, her expression marked with fear. Somehow, through his lust, he found pity.

"I don't want this," he gasped.

For a moment their eyes locked. Cairin took him in. There was no anger in her expression, no lust to see him drained, only fear and worry. Her eyes shot back to Feather, but the blonde had turned entirely to her own satisfaction.

"Oh, oh Lady yes!" Feather tossed her head back. Torchlight illuminated the hollows of her neck, the veins pulsing with life. She shuddered, her lithe body trembling with fatigue and pleasure. The beauty thrashing against him was lost to ecstasy, a mere heartbeat away from climax. Her bracelet glowed.

Colm's ring pulsed hotly against his shaft, a comforting reminder. Driven beyond any shred of self control, his body stiffed, hands tugging uselessly against the chains which bound him. He greeted ecstasy.

"Unnnnnh, aaaaaaah, fuuuuu, fuuuuuuuuuck!" His balls tensed at the brink of release. Feather ground against him one last time, tugging him over the precipice. "Ohhhhhhh," he gasped, shooting a blast of cum into the Adept. "Fuck!"

"Ayyyyyyy," Feather cried out, her voice ringing across the camp. Her already tight gash clamped down, imprisoning Colm's organ. "Lady, oh fuck!" The petite Adept tensed again, shuddering. The orgasm tore through her, rippling across every inch of her pale, soft flesh. "Yes," she gasped. "Yes, oh your seed!"

Obligingly, Colm released another shot of cum into the girl's slick pussy. "Nnnnnnnnnnah! So sweet!" The two were writhing and cumming together.

"Now, watch!" Brigit who, with the rest of the observers had backed away, now stepped forward. She raised a hand for attention. "Behold the test."

Colm's orgasm peaked, and only slowly faded. Feather, triumphant and spent above him, slowed her grinding. As her own ecstasy eased, she collapsed upon him. Both gasped with exhaustion.

Warmth settled upon Colm, a welcome relief from the cool night air. Soon, he was warmer still. His heart raced. Though his mind was still befuddled with ecstasy, he recognized the signs. Energy surged into him, a near violent current that he struggled to endure. His skin was alive as sparks seemed to dance across him, invisible and potent.

Concentrating, Colm struggled to contain the maelstrom. He gritted his teeth, willing the energy inward to the ring. For a moment it worked. His essence, swirling and bound with that of Feather, soaked into the hot mesh of the ring. The Adept lay inert atop him, her strength fled. Then, just as Colm thought he had mastered the incredible forces coursing within him, he faltered.

It was as if the ring was full. The tendrils of power swirled around and past it, but were not absorbed. Colm's heart raced again, dangerously fast. Heat consumed him, a fever which arose without warning. Containing the remaining energy was impossible.

"Behold," Brigit repeated. "When the Lady has tested the man and found him..." She regarded the entwined couple, perhaps sensing something amiss. "When the Lady... aaaaaah!"

Colm bucked, throwing Feather to the ground. Somewhere, Cairin screamed. Eyes wide, he regarded the scene frantically.

"Oh fuck!" Colm cried out. Stretched tight against the bed, he had no choice. Fire escaped unbidden from his hands and feet as Adepts and Princesses scattered. Cries of pain and fear tore through the crowd. Incredibly, Colm's chains dropped away, first from his wrists, then ankles, metal glowing white hot in the night. The young man rolled from the bed, stumbling, as the crowd fled in all directions, some for the fringes of the camp, some flailing into the pool. A final gout of flame erupted from his hands, immolating a tent.

Stunned, Colm stood naked, his taut body highlighted by the torches, the final sparks at his fingertips, cum dripping from his heavy cock. About him was nothing but chaos.

***

The night had ended in turmoil. The day broke in ashen silence.

"He's waking, shut up!"

Like emerging from too long a dive in a cold stream, Colm swam to consciousness. A bruising headache awaited him.

"Owwww shit," he groaned. He tried to rub at his eyes, only to find his hands immobile.

"They've bound you," said a gruff, familiar voice. "After last night, who can blame them?"

Colm bounced. Daring to open his eyes, the young man found himself staring through bars. He and Grady were in a wagon, trundling uncomfortably in the mid-morning light.

"Here," said Grady, pressing a water skin to Colm's lips. "We're to care for you. At least... until tonight."

He drank, greedily. As his eyes adjusted, Colm could see that not only Grady, but Killian and Fyne also occupied the wagon. Neither looked to have been treated well. Killian grimaced as the wagon shook, evidently bruised. The corner of Fyne's mouth was caked with dried blood, but he attempted a smile nonetheless.

"You put on quite a show last night, or so we're told."

Colm had no wish to dwell on the evening's fiery climax. "What happened to you?"

Grady leaned back, his gaze flickering briefly outside the wagon, to freedom. "After the failed Ceremony a few of the Adepts found us. Them and a few of the Broken. One of the Princesses eventually put a stop to it."

Colm's heart sank, thinking on the grief he had brought the men. Just days before, their concerns were no greater than where to find work. Would they now survive the day? Would he? Colm peered out the side of the wagon. On each side rode two Princesses, keeping their distance but nonetheless watchful. Was he that dangerous?

"Had you seen a Ceremony before?" Fyne eyed him from the shadows.

"No," admitted Colm. "Could have done without it last night."

"No man survives," Fyne said. "Survives with his wits anyway. You weren't meant to, either. It's no surprise they ignored the risk you present. No wonder they guard you so now."

For a time the men rode in silence. The lush wood they had camped in the day before gave way to sparser country. Drier and rockier, the land gradually flattened. If Colm remembered the map, they couldn't be far.

"There's a moment, you know." This from Grady. The other men considered him. "You're not the only one, Fyne," he grumbled.

"Of course," said Fyne. He waved his hand expansively. "Tell us."

"There's a moment at the end." Grady glanced at the Princesses. Deeming them out of hearing, he continued. "Of course the Ceremony ends with the Adept taking the poor bastard's strength, but just before it's the opposite."

Fyne nodded in assent.

"All of the strength of the Adept flows into the victim, the one they call Degraded. The Order calls it the test, but that's shit. No bracelet, you can't hold on to it. You're right fucked."

"Colm survived. Do you believe him now? About the ring?"

Grady snorted. "Well, I'm not checking his cock, if that's what you're asking. But yeah, there's some reason he isn't one of the Broken today."

Killian laughed before breaking into a coughing fit. Of the three he appeared to have taken the worst of it.

"So why am I still alive then?" Colm asked.

Fyne shrugged limply. "It isn't good, whatever the reason. I suspect they seek to make an example of you. You've embarrassed them, her." The cart bounced, rattling their teeth. "After last night Brigit will be scared, her power threatened. She can't just have you killed now; that would look weak. She'll do it herself."

The caravan rode through mid-day, a dusty streak across the bleak earth. The four companions gnawed on two-day old bread. One of the priestesses rode close enough to thrust a chunk of dried beef into the wagon. Grady divided it, sharing with the others, and feeding Colm. The day stretched on.

Well shy of dusk, they slowed. The riders and wagons entered a glade, spreading and crawling to a stop. Though shy of the sylvan beauty of the previous evening's campsite, the wood provided shade and water. The Broken made camp.

"They will come for you soon, I am sure of it." Fyne joined Colm as both peered through the bars of the wagon. "Remember what Grady said. There will be a moment tonight, one the Order has not planned for. Many of them are scarcely more than girls, after all. They command great power, but are impetuous. When the moment comes, you must act. You alone will have the freedom, the opportunity."

The older man might have said more, but with little warning a party of Priestesses approached. Goaded by harsh commands, two of the Broken opened the wagon. To Colm's surprise, all four prisoners were dragged forth.

"You!" a Princess said, stabbing her finger at Colm. "With us. The others..." she said, shooting a contemptuous glance "will be allowed to watch. Come." The four were separated.

***

The defile made a perfect amphitheater.

At the edge of the glade, the ground sloped slightly down, breaking into the clear. The thin wood gave way to a loose, barren slope where not even the hardy, dry weeds seemed to take hold. Near the bottom, a column of granite, oddly symmetrical, rose from the soil. Before that, Colm spotted what could only be an altar, clearly cut from the same black stone. Heavy rings had been driven into the corners. This, thought Colm, was surely where they were taking him.

Small groups of Adepts appeared, arriving in twos and threes. A few held back, but most edged toward the altar, stopping short of what seemed some invisible line. All eyed Colm first, their expressions a mix of hatred and curiosity. Some wore bandages. How many had he burned the previous night?

Colm's escorts held him at the edge of the clearing, waiting as the crowd filtered in. With little else to do, he studied the women of the Order. Never had he seen such a concentration of beauty. The youngest, the Adepts, were fresh faced and girlish, wide eyes taking in the scene before them as a novelty. To them the world must seem a thrilling place full of enchantment and wonder. They lived secure in the knowledge that they had been called to a life of privilege. Those a few years older showed greater reserve. As the Princesses progressed through the mysteries of the Order they became accustomed to power. All deferred to them, either from respect or fear. Theirs was a serene beauty, born of confidence and sense of place.

No torches were lit, but two bonfires had been set, one to either side of the altar. As the crowd filled in, the fires were lit. Warm light danced, filling-in for the setting sun. Night fell.

A murmur passed through the crowd. From somewhere on the far periphery Brigit stepped to the altar. Tonight she wore more somber attire. Her dress dipped to reveal a pale shoulder, but the material was muted. She wore no jewelry beyond her bracelets, the brazenness of the previous night seemingly tempered. Nor was her reception entirely warm. Colm caught a few low hisses. Even when the Queen raised her hand for silence her sisters were slow to obey, their conversations trailing off resentfully.