The Ring of Perliss Ch. 04: Witched

Content Note: Contains non-consensual sex.

On the second day of our journey north from Benatek, we awoke late after a long night of mutual passion, and only a rather urgent need to clean ourselves (as well as the usual) prevented our staying wrapped in each other's arms. As joyful as it was to bring Hanwe to climax, her orgasms were wet and messy, and her chastity belt had quickly become a slimy mess of cum that had inevitably smeared all over us both.

"Ugh," I said, cleaning myself in the cold water of the river we had slept by. We'd made it out of the marshes and into the hills before making camp. If we'd started earlier in the day, we might have made it to Fandralko, the first proper staging post on the road to Alba. We could have stayed in an inn and eaten hot food and bathed in warm water. "We really need to get you out of that belt."

Of course, the only key was back in Benatek, clenched firmly in Lady Minarwe's hand. Hanwe was adept at making me come with her mouth and fingers, but I yearned to feel her cock inside me again. I wanted to feel her cum bursting out into me as I screamed in ecstasy. Watching her beside me in the river, her fingers massaging the moonsilver belt in a very suggestive manner, did nothing to cool my unsatisfied lust for her.

"It's a beautiful day," she said, her one blue eye playful, the black too intimidating to look at for more than an instant. "Let's begin your training."

I had, after all, asked for it. Lady Veshla had given me Ulaxr's silver sword, and I knew nothing about swordplay. I did, fortunately, have the muscles for it. In becoming Lia, I had inherited the body of a warrior queen. As long as I wore the Ring of Perliss, that body had been maintained in that superb form too, but the ring had been taken from me. I needed to start earning that incredible gift.

"Just follow my moves," Hanwe said, once she had adjusted my grip on the hilt. She took up her own sword, the Dawn Blade given to her by Zar, and swept it slowly about her in an elegant and perfectly controlled display. I tried my best to duplicate her moves, and not to be distracted by the deadly magic infusing the naked weapons.

After this exercise, we ate and packed and set off again, Fandralko our likely next stopping point - only for a man on horseback, heading south, to halt beside us briefly. While the horse drank from the river, its rider dismounted and spoke with us. "Terrible news from Fandralko," he said. "Terrible."

"What has happened?" I asked.

"An affliction," he said. "I hesitate to describe it to young women such as yourselves, but it is better you are warned. Many of the men there are maddened with a strange lust. One look at a woman and they will pursue her and abuse her most vigorously, while crying out for forgiveness. They shed tears of wretched misery, but they do not cease their ravishment of the unfortunate women they have captured. You would be wise to turn back to Benatek."

"What of the children?" Hanwe asked.

"They have been brought safely away, thank the gods, but the men have barricaded themselves in the village hall with their captives, and they are armed too. They are quite mad, though, and will charge out at the sight of a woman, and even in the midst of brawling their exposed cocks are constantly hard."

He mounted his horse and turned south again. "I go to fetch aid from the city. Take my advice, and follow me there."

We watched him ride off in fresh haste. "Witches," I said.

The witch's spell book that I was slowly getting to grips with started out lightly with healing magic and enchantments and spells of perception and even divination. There was a method to boost a man's virility using his own semen and a moonlit incantation, although the mystical symbols that accompanied this spell in the book had an instability.

I had seen this spell's effect on Fenizir. Three times the witches had worked their evil on him, etching this symbol of sexual potency into his flesh. With each repetition, the symbol had knotted about itself, making him both more virile and less in control of his own desires. Had I not interrupted them, had they continued to burn that increasingly cruel magic into him, he might have ended up much as Fandralko's men had become. Crazed with the need for sexual relief and unable to find it.

"See this symbol," I explained to Hanwe, scribing it in the muddy bank of the river. "See how if I use the end of this first as the start of a second -"

Hanwe recoiled away from me, her hand seeking out the hilt of her sword. "A serpent!" she cried, and indeed the doubled symbol seemed to writhe in the mud. I added a third and a fourth, chaining them together, as Hanwe stared in horror. She moved her patch to the other eye, so that only her black Unsleeping Eye could see, and slowly she calmed down. "This is unnatural stuff," she declared.

"Yes," I agreed. "This is what the witches are drawing, not in the mud but in the flesh."

"But why?" she demanded. "What purpose is there in it?"

I shrugged. "There are many spells in this book that make use of a man's cum. Make him virile, and you can collect far more of the stuff in a short time. The cum of a virile man has greater magical strength too. Remember how Abab-Baria turned the prince into a minotaur?" I laughed at the thought of my old teacher transforming a man into a bull. There was a cruelty to it, but a magnificence too. "But also," I added, "I think they enjoy the chaos it brings."

I studied the coiling, knotting symbol for a few breaths longer, until even my head was hurting from it, then washed it away with water from the river. "If only it could be so easily washed from flesh," I muttered.

Hanwe sighed with relief, and switched the patch back. It was a relief for me to see her blue, human eye again, and this time not filled with horror. "Is there nothing we can do for them?" she asked. "Or must they be killed? Or suffer torment in prison for the rest of their lives?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Unpicking a spell is not something I've ever tried to do." Although Old Mother Baria had used to do it often, muttering to herself like other grannies might do when unpicking a line of knitting that went wrong. "Let me think on it."

*

It was dusk when we came in sight of Fandralko. Two old men stood guard on the road. "Best you don't go any nearer, ladies," said one. "It's not safe for women."

"How many men are afflicted?" I asked.

The two conferred briefly, nodded, and spoke together: "Nine." The one who had spoken before added, "They are all good men, the finest young men of the village, but some devilish witchcraft has made rutting satyrs of them."

"Witchcraft?" I queried.

"Aye, witches," the other muttered. "Two of them in black cloaks, the ground like ice about them. The bones of their dead sister in a pail. They lined up the men and milked them like they were cows, emptying their balls again and again into that bucket o' bones."

"I've met these witches before," I said. "How is it you were awake to see what they did?"

He shrugged indifferently. "My wife - may she rest in Tordunh - dabbled a little in the black arts. She even taught me a spell or two. Served me well as a sergeant in the Black Queen's army." He stiffened to attention suddenly, facing Hanwe. "Majesty," he said, while his companion stared at him bewildered.

Hanwe laughed gently. "Your name, Sergeant?"

"Samir, Majesty, and this is Baraz." Baraz's eyes widened as understanding crept into him.

"Will you fight by my side again, Samir?" Hanwe said. "Benatek's guardsmen will be here before long, and they won't hesitate to use their swords. I plan to capture these men, and my young friend here thinks she may have a cure."

It was true. I had devised a possible cure, but it was a cure in need of a volunteer, and my willingness to be that volunteer had angered Hanwe. She had barely spoken to me since I had argued for it. "If nothing else," Hanwe added, slapping me on the shoulder, "she'll make very pretty bait." That too was true.

"It will be an honour," the old man said with a fierce grin. "I hope she can run fast, or they'll strip her of virtue faster than they'll strip her of clothes."

"I don't think you have to worry about her virtue," Hanwe said with a dark scowl in my direction.

The plan was simple. All I had to do was show myself in the road outside the village hall, and when spotted I needed to run to where Hanwe and her army of two waited to ambush my pursuers. And the plan worked perfectly the first two times. I walked past the village hall, and sped away as two men peered out and raced after me, howling with lust, their exposed cocks raised like mighty lances. But Hanwe was as swift and sure without her sword as with, and Samir and Baraz did not let age slow them down.

With four of the nine men easily captured and tied up safely and gagged in the cellar of the inn, I returned confidently for a third walk by the hall. Except this time all five of the remaining men charged out. With a scream of pure panic, I ran for the hopeful safety of the waiting ambush. My protectors were valiant and capable, but they were three against five, and the five had only one thing on their minds.

Even as Hanwe charged out of hiding to send one man sprawling, and Samir and Baraz wrestled with a second, I was thrown to the ground, the heavy weight of a man against my back. He lifted away and I struggled to escape, only to be pulled violently back against him, his hard cock finding its way up my skirt and between my thighs.

I screamed as another man appeared suddenly in front of me, his cock in front of my face. An erect cock smeared with cum and stinking of sex and sweat. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled my mouth to his cock, even as the man behind me pressed his to my cunt, and suddenly there were two cocks thrusting into me.

And just as suddenly there were none, as Hanwe dragged away the man behind me with a roar of fury, and the two guards pulled away the other. The fifth man lay unconscious on the ground.

I knelt where I was, gasping for breath, the taste of cum in my mouth, a throbbing pain in my cunt from the brutal impatience of that assault. "Lia!" Hanwe demanded, kneeling down beside me and catching me in a fierce embrace, her lips against my cheek. "I'm so sorry, Lia. Are you all right?"

Was I? I was sore inside, my knees and hands were bruised and scraped, and I was profoundly embarrassed by how quickly I had lost control of the situation. "I'm fine," I muttered. "Let's see to the others."

Because back in the village hall were a dozen women, all tied up and exhausted beyond tears.

*

One warm bath and a hot meal later, I was ready to face what must be done.

It was dark outside, and the village quiet. No one had yet dared to return, and the women who had been held captive and used so brutally had been taken away in wagons and escorted by four of the six Benatek guardsmen who had arrived to find Samir and Baraz proudly standing watch over the trussed up prisoners. Hanwe had melted into the background, happy to let the old soldiers take all the credit.

One of the two that remained was Garet, a captain of the city guard. "We can't just leave them trussed up in the cellar," he said. Garet was a tall, handsome man who no doubt enjoyed the attentions of women, but he was very out of place in a small village. Especially one abandoned in the wake of evil witchcraft.

"As long as they are tormented by the witches' evil magic," I said, "you will have little choice but to keep them bound or locked up."

Garet shuddered. "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "Their balls are this big" - he opened his hands and mimed holding a pair of apple-sized testicles - "and such is their desperate need their cocks drip cum that pools beneath them." He blushed suddenly, thinking this language might offend me.

He and his fellow guardsman soon took up the offer of beds for the night, and I eased the magic horse tail into my ass. "You don't have to do this," Hanwe said, adding with a glower, "and you don't have to act so eager to do it either."

I laughed at her jealousy. "Someone has to, and maybe some good will come of it." Once again the clenching of my ass about the metal plug was synchronised with my breathing, and laughter had a startling effect. "Is the stable ready?"

"It is."

While I bathed, Hanwe and Samir had prepared table and ropes in the barn. They soon had me on my back on the table, blanket beneath me for comfort, ropes pulling my legs up and open wide, my bum suspended in the air over a milking pail. My tail jerking rhythmically in time with my breathing. "Look how wet the slut's cunt is, Samir," Hanwe said, her fingers teasing my clit. "She's already had one cock in there today. I'm sure she'd enjoy another."

There was no disguising the tent in Samir's trousers, and it hardly seemed fair after all his help that he should be denied. "Do it, Samir," I urged.

He needed no further urging. His trousers were tugged down hurriedly to reveal a good-sized cock. Samir straddled the pail, staring down at me through my raised and spread legs, and eased his cock into my cunt. My breathing deepened in response, causing my ass to clench tighter about the tail. "I've been wanting some of this all day," Samir growled, his gentle initial thrusting giving way to a brutal pounding that belied his age.

I could scarcely think between the hammer of his cock and the exquisite contracting of my ass. I cried out as the tail squeezed free of me, and Hanwe plucked it away. Samir grunted as he finished abruptly, his cum tickling me inside as his cock pulsed in its victory dance. "Been too long since I did that," he murmured appreciatively, pulling his wilting cock out and wiping it on my thigh.

I took the tail and my knife from Hanwe, and carefully inscribed a symbol onto the metal cone. "Go get the first," I said.

The first of the nine was brought into the stable by Samir and Baraz. The man was bound up in so much rope he could hardly walk, but at the sight of my exposed cunt he leapt forward with such strength he nearly escaped his captors. "Cunt," he cried with feverish lust. "I must have it." A thin stream of cum dripped from his erect cock, and his swollen balls were indeed enormous.

"No," Hanwe said to him. "You can have her ass, and then only if you wear this while you do it." She held up the tail, and he peered at it with a confused expression. "Her ass, or nothing," Hanwe said.

He nodded roughly, his gaze already drifting back to my cunt. He squealed in surprise as Hanwe pushed the tail into his ass, but was happy to aim his cock for my ass as Samir and Baraz brought him close to me. I felt the wetness of his cum against my thighs and cheeks, and then he thrust into me with a desperate urgency.

The tail had prepared me well, though. My ass was hungry to be filled, and slippery too. Once begun, he cared only about finishing, and he rammed his cock into me with brutal strength and a frenzy of lust. Samir and Baraz watched from the side as this magic-crazed stranger fucked my ass, and Hanwe held my hand with anxious strength.

And I loved it. I loved every wild, powerful thrust of that cock into me, though the man's anguished expression was difficult to look at. "I can't," he whimpered, his breathing growing increasingly ragged. "I can't." His cock felt harder than ever as his thrusts deepened.

With a great cry he finished, and his cum erupted deep inside me, triggering my own astonishing climax. My ass contracted tightly about his pulsing cock as I screamed in ecstasy. Again and again I felt the delicious kick of his cock as his cum flooded into me, and slowly, gradually, as if the lust that had fuelled him were being drained, a horrified intelligence crept into his eyes.

He stumbled backwards, away from me, with a cry of wretched misery, and I could feel his cum spurt and drip from my sweetly clenching and too abruptly empty ass. Hanwe peered down to make sure the pail was positioned to collect it all. "Ready for the next one, my sweet, beautiful slut?" she asked.

I laughed. "Give me a minute to catch my breath."

"Of course." She turned to Baraz with a sly grin. "Come take a turn with her cunt while her ass recovers."

I was in no position to argue.

*

I had a deep but fulfilling ache in both my ass and my cunt by the time we were done. Nine men had unloaded huge quantities of cum into my ass, and two men had happily alternated in their use of my cunt. Hanwe's fingers brushing against my clit had stoked the tension throughout, resulting in many spectacular orgasms, and she brought water often that I was grateful for.

Samir and Baraz lowered my legs at last. They were so numb from being tied up that I could barely stand, but first I squatted for a while over the pail, pushing a last few dribbles of cum from my ass and cunt. Inside the bucket was a disturbingly large quantity of syrupy fluid, a mix of eleven men's cum and my own too.

"What's all this for then?" Samir asked as he carried the pail into the inn for me.

Hanwe, meanwhile, was practically carrying me. "Bath first," I murmured. "Magic later." I would have gladly gone to sleep, but needed to use what I had worked so hard to collect. "Build me an oak fire," I said. "And I'll need a clean jar with a tight lid. Maybe some asparagus."

I wasn't entirely coherent at that point. The asparagus was a whimsical choice. An instinct. One I followed on emerging much refreshed from my bath. I boiled the asparagus and squeezed out the juice; mixed the juice with the cum-syrup; and cooked over the oak fire, repeating, "Calse tir alos penevir fekl," as the sun rose. The gods had blessed us with a cloudless sky, and Uxur's burning light filled the kitchen. It wasn't a necessary ingredient, but it helped.

I poured the pale, creamy green mixture into the jar, and sealed it. "Now I can sleep," I said, and let Hanwe take me to bed.

*

The nine afflicted men had spent a night and a day in the inn's cellar, with only a visit to the stable for a break. If there had been tears of remorse and wails of inconsolable guilt, I had slept through them. The sight that greeted me - I won't describe the smell - was one of collective misery.

The city guardsmen had returned to Benatek, promising to send more men to escort the prisoners, but the men in the cellar were no longer any danger to anyone except their own wretched selves. They had, at least, enough lingering self-respect to cover their genitals, and they hid their heads in shame on seeing me, the woman in the stable they had taken turns to ravish.

"Let me see," I said to each in turn. Their cocks were no longer rigid with desire, and there was no constant stream of cum dripping onto the floor, but their balls were swollen and angry. For each, I took a measure of my asparagus cream from the jar and massaged it into their sensitive skin, and I used the opportunity to study how well my own magic had countered the witches' cruel spells. It wasn't perfect, but I had done enough.

I may have left the cellar door unlocked when I returned upstairs.