The Order Ch. 04

The closest Princesses and Adepts had pressed in, captivated by the novel scene. It was as much to them as to Brigit that Colm now spoke. "This is how I fucked Bria," he said. "When we tasted ecstasy, it was me the Lady kissed."

The crowd murmured restlessly, exchanging confused glances. Cairin's expression turned darker yet.

"Oh, didn't you tell them?" Colm gambled that no mention had been made of the fate of the two Adepts he had stolen the satchel from, the ones he had left weakened.

"What? Lies!" Brigit said, angrily.

"You didn't tell them!" Colm said. "Where's Bria then? Where's Darcy?" A stronger murmur swept through the crowd. "I left her as empty as a wine cup."

"What!" Cairin stomped forward, pressing her hands on the altar. "Them too? You knew?"

Brigit craned her neck, taking in the scene. "No, I..." she trailed off, seeing the press of priestesses around the altar. "Yes, I sought to protect you!" she objected.

"Protect us?" Cairin said, mouth gaping in astonishment. "You protected us by sacrificing Feather?" Again the crowd's voice could be heard, angry and confused.

"I didn't know!" objected Brigit. With Colm's cock still half buried in her, the Queen pushed herself half up. She regarded the assembly, which once again seemed to be turning against her.

"Of course you knew!" Cairin was incredulous. "You had to-"

"Enough!" Brigit struck the altar with her fist. From both wrists, a wave of blue sparks erupted, sending the crowd reeling. Colm's skin tingled painfully. His grip faltered. "I will have no more of this," Brigit shouted. "I will finish this man! When I am through it will not matter the mistakes made. They will be avenged."

Fearfully, the crowd stumbled back. "You!" Brigit turned her gaze to Colm. Her face was lit with desperation, with lust. "You will take me now, unbound, as you say. Or by the Lady I will destroy you, her kiss be damned!" Her bracelets glowed.

Though shot through with fear, Colm was ready. "Face down," he said.

Whether motivated by her desire to not appear weak, or because the suggestion suited her, Brigit complied. The Queen disengaged from him, turned, and lay across the altar. Her full, soft breasts rested on the cold stone. Her ass was raised, legs spread, toes just touching the ground. The invitation was as old as humanity itself. She offered herself to him.

What happened now would determine his fate, and possibly that of his brethren. Cock still achingly hard from the silver potion, Colm approached Brigit from behind. Before she could change her mind, Colm again took her.

"Ahhhhhhh, fuck!" Brigit cried out.

"Unnnh," Colm groaned. "Yeah." He buried himself in her gash, no longer concerned with the bliss that enveloped him. Whatever happened, he would soon turn the corner.

Colm pulled almost free, the tip of his head just brushing her lips. For a moment he teased her, probing her clit, spreading her slightly before pulling back. Brigit wriggled her ass in frustration, pushing back for him.

"Lady curse you," she snarled. "Put it in!"

Parting her knees even more, Colm guided his cock again into the Queen's slick depths. She emitted a grunt of unrestrained pleasure, clutching at the altar. Soon, he worked himself back into a steady rhythm.

The priestesses had mostly fallen back when Brigit struck the altar, but a few remained close. Cairin was among them, her expression written with rage. She spotted Colm. For a moment their eyes locked. That the two shared a bond was beyond doubt. Colm wished to survive the evening with his wits; Cairin surely wished to see Brigit punished. He allowed his gaze to drop to the Princess's hand. Seeing where he looked, Cairin opened her palm to reveal the soft metal of the ring.

Almost involuntarily, Colm continued to pump Brigit hard and deep. Uncontainable pleasure swept through him, tightening his sack. The Queen groaned and thrashed, her copper locks spilling across her back and the altar. She looked back at him through slitted eyes.

"Ooooh," she gasped. "Oh, fuck me. Ohhhh, fuck me hard, I'm so close!" Brigit had lost a touch of her earlier triumphant attitude, but still eyed Colm hungrily. "Let's cum together."

Before them, the column danced with color, just below its coal black surface. There could be no doubt this was the object that tied the bracelets together, the one that unified the power of the Order.

Awash with bliss, Colm turned the corner. He now pumped the Queen without restraint, his hips slapping against her ass. His cock jerked. He worked her pussy hard, stretching and piercing the deliciously slick flesh. He shuddered, nearing release.

Once again, Cairin caught his eye. Her gaze flickered between him and the ring laying in her palm.

"Please," gasped Colm. With one hand he took a fistful of Brigit's hair, tugging her head back. The other he extended toward Cairin. "Oh, fuck!"

"Yes! Lady, yes!" Brigit's mouth opened, her eyes were shut. The pair teetered on the brink, each already giving in to ecstasy. "Ah, ah..."

Cairin tossed the ring, her expression unreadable. Her aim was poor but Colm, with a desperate motion, snagged it mid-air. It pulsed, hot in his hand. Frantically, he pulled his cock free and slapped the ring to the base. It tightened as before. Just in time, he thrust back into Brigit.

"Ah, aaaaaah, fuuuuuuuuu..." Brigit came, her head tossing back even farther than Colm already had pulled it. Her pussy clamped down. "Oooooooh!" She trembled, pushing herself against his cock.

"Nnnnnahhhhhhh," Colm cried out. "Oh, oh, fuck!" His hips drove forward then stiffened. The entire evening had led to this moment, the succession of mouths and tongues that had teased his sack, the sight of Brigit's voluptuous body riding him, the reversal, and now their mutual release. He shot a blast of cum into her depths.

"Oooooooooh Lady," Brigit moaned. She twitched and ground beneath him, tight in the grip of ecstasy. The pale beauty almost wept. "Ahhhh, that cock!" She shuddered.

Colm's orgasm crested. The moment stretched out sweetly, wrapping and holding him in bliss. He pulled partway out, then deep again. "Unnnnnnh!" More cum shot into Brigit's already dripping pussy. Almost spent, he released his grip on her hair.

Brigit collapsed, panting. "Ohhhh," she groaned, as the last of her orgasm bore over and past her. Colm's own shuddering release also began to subside. He gasped.

The now-familiar tingle of warmth found him, then became more intense. The lingering currents of his own ecstasy merged with those flowing now from Brigit. Together, they were a storm within him, seeking his every extremity and coursing through his veins. It would be impossible to maintain, he knew. The ring was full to bursting. It wouldn't hold any of the power surging through him, especially the potent, nearly raging burst of magical essence pouring into him from the Queen. If Feather's strength had been that of a comforting fire, Brigit's was that of an inferno. He would either release it or be burnt from within.

And yet, body screaming, he contained it for another moment. He sought the power of the ring. Even as his heart raced savagely and his skin tingled with fire, he beckoned it forth. The ring obliged, releasing the pent-up energy of the five Adepts into him. In a single heartbeat, the storm doubled.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Colm howled in pain, every nerve on fire. He was beyond reason, barely in control. Arms extended, he gestured toward the column. A jet of white-hot fire burst forth, striking the center of the rock. The energy poured from him, a raging knife of flame, sustained by the agonizing storm within. The heat bore steadily into the column. It began to glow, first orange, then red. Colm shuddered with a release more powerful than the strongest orgasm he had ever experienced.

The crowd pulled back in fear. Beneath Colm, Brigit lay spent, breaths slow.

The column now glowed white. Bright veins spread across its surface, fine at first, then more pronounced. Finally, as the last of the fire escaped Colm, the thing gave off a sound like a crack of thunder. It split, falling apart into a pile of glowing rubble.

Colm collapsed. Together, he and Brigit lay upon the altar, spent and entwined.

***

"It was just like that," Grady said. "The matriarchs would come to my shop every day, pretending to be interested in the silks, but 'twas me they were fond of!" The aged man looked about for acceptance.

Cairin looked on indulgently, her arm around a still shaken but recovering Feather. Uninterested in hearing the tale repeated, Colm rose and stepped away from the fire. Behind him, unnoticing, Grady carried on. "You see, when I was a youth, I was quite..." The words faded as Colm joined Fyne at the edge of the camp. For a time, neither spoke.

The camp was modest. Two wagons, a handful of tents, and no more than two-score travelers had decided to stay one more night at what had been a sacred site of the Order. Cook fires lay smoldering, now home to clusters of the travelers, joined for companionship as the night settled about them. More than a few bottles of wine had been opened.

"Look," Fyne said.

Two distinct groups had formed at opposite sides of one of the fires. One group consisted of young women, previously Adepts of the Order. Most had removed their bracelets, which in any event now would only hang limp and dark on their wrists. The other side was made up of men of various ages. The day prior they had been known as the Broken, men whose spirit had been taken from them. Now, although most were still recovering, they spoke and laughed as free-willed men. Both groups now eyed the other with increasing interest, a scene as old as mankind itself.

"The others will find their way," Colm said. Earlier that day, the bulk of the party had departed. Among them, the priestesses who yet failed to acknowledge the collapse of their sect. Accompanying them was the remainder of the Broken who either had yet to recover, or whom through the habit of long servitude remained obedient.

"Most will find their way back to their families," said Fyne. "Without their power to oppress, the Order will find support limited."

"I'm happy to be freed of my power to oppress," laughed Colm. He reached into his pocket, to retrieve the ring. The mesh lay once again soft and dull against his skin. With a chuckle, he cast it away. "Goodnight Fyne."

Colm returned to his tent, and pulling back the flap, stepped within. There was a rustle of movement. A jolt of unease shot through him before receding.

"Good evening," giggled one of the young women who awaited him. Colm recognized the two blondes who one night prior had so skillfully tongued his sack. His organ stirred at the memory.

"We thought we'd apologize," the other said. "We didn't get to finish last night."

Both lay facing each other on his pallet, but as he entered they rose. The first, rounder of body, tugged off her slender friend's white shift. That girl in turn disrobed the other. Both stood, soft bodies faint in the dim light of the tent, blonde hair spilling across their shoulders. They kissed briefly, tongues sliding together sweetly. The slender one spoke.

"Let's fuck."