Poll Driven Story: “The Rings of Corruption” Episode Five Part Three

Alright perverts, the second part of episode Five is ready for you to read! You can find it, and the voting for what happens next, below the cut off. You can also find all the other ring stories in there entirety HERE.

Sorry this took me so long to get finished, moving forward I should hopefully be back to posting new story sections nearly every day.

“What do we do now?” Lyithion asks as her and Camneveth join Nur-Ayya beside the sleeping Orc.

Nur-Ayya looks up at them. “She’ll need to sleep for a couple of hours, but once she wakes she should be fully healed. The spell will remove the physical and mental trauma from her ordeal. I suggest we wait here till she rises. It will still be early in evening by then and leave us plenty of time to reach the inn up the road.”

Camneveth nods, “I think that’s a good enough plan.

The next couple of hours pass quickly for the three heroines as they discuss the short battle, going over all they did right and how they can fight even more efficiently next time. Together they sit around the slumbering Orc, engrossed in their conversation.

“She’s waking,” Nur says eventually, pointing to the Orc as her eyes begin to flutter open.

The green skinned woman sits up slowly, looking at the women around her in confusion. “Who… who are you all?” she asks. Her speech is slightly marred by the two tusk like teeth sticking out of the bottom of her mouth.

Nur places a calming hand on the woman’ shoulder. “We are members of the Sisterhood of Righteousness and we have saved you. Do you remember what happened to you?”

The Orc seems confused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tries to remember recent events. “I… I was waylaid by bandits. They got the drop on me! One of them… he cast some kind of spell that left me stupefied and helpless. And then they… Oh, oh no! I remember now!” She looks down at herself, just now realizing she is naked under the blanket that Nur has wrapped around her.

She shivers at the memory then looks up at the women around her. “You saved me! You… you gave those men what they deserved and saved me, even though I’m an Orc!”

Camneveth nods. “Yes, we saved you because you needed saving. Race is something that matters not to the Sisterhood, the only thing that mattered was that you were a woman in trouble.”

“Thank you,” the Orc says and begins to get up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her body. “Please, my clothes and gear must be around here somewhere. Help me find them? And perhaps after that we can discuss how I can repay you all.”

Soon the woman is dressed in a simple, form-fitting leather outfit that leaves her large, soft breasts pressed up and much of her green skin on display. She recovers a small traveling pack and a primitive looking sword which she places in a hilt on her belt.

“Those two never would have stood a chance against me in open combat,” she says defiantly as she stares at their ashy remains. “But, like I said, they got the drop on me and cast some accursed spell that left me helpless. Who knows how long they would have kept me if you three hadn’t come along.”

She looks up at them, her face determined. “I have to repay you three, its only right. Let me come with you. I know these lands well and can lead you through them. And I can offer you my sword should you need it.”

“I don’t know,” Lyithion says, her voice uncertain. “The quest we are on is a dangerous one.”

“All the more reason to bring me along,” the Orc says. “Please, I HAVE to repay you for saving me. It is Orcish costume that if one is bested in combat that they must serve the one that beat them. But if THAT person is ever bested their loyalty is transferred to that new person. Since you defeated these bandits my loyalty now lies with you.”

“Okay,” Camneveth says. “You can come along. Just be warned, we are heading to deal with evil sorceress Elduni.”

The Orc’s eyes grow wide. “You’re going to slay Elduni? You all must be even mightier than I thought to take on such a quest!”

“Do you wish to take back your offer to join us?” Camneveth asks.

“Oh no, long have I seen the evils that she has brought to this land. Why, I’m sure these bandits paid tribute to her. Knowing your quest I’m even more eager than ever to help you three.” She pulls her sword out and kneels before them, placing the tip of its blade in the dirt before her. “I, Shiira the Orc, offer you my sword and will serve you all till your quest is at an end.”


* * *


These three women are pathetically trusting, Shiira thinks. She’s sitting behind the cleric with the lightly colored black skin, riding on her horse as the trio rides slowly to the nearby inn.

This one in front of me is the most naive! She seems to exude innocence with every breath, which is even more amazing when one looks at the indecent size of her breasts. Never have I seen a woman more clearly blessed by Ynara, for how else could they get so big and she still be able to walk?

Yet she seems wholly free of all sexual knowledge! She’s spent the last half hour asking me questions about my encounter with the bandits. It’s clear the woman has never seen anyone fuck before, and certainly never experienced it firsthand.

Really, the fat-titted cow is a blessing. It will be a pure joy to see what Elduni does with this one. Surely with tits as big as hers she will eventually end up at The Dairy Farm, but with as innocent as she is I can only imagine my master will see to it that she undergoes an in depth sexual education beforehand.

Surely they ALL will undergo such an education! In fact, it seems it’s already begun. Why else set up the trap that way? Elduni could have just as easily had those goons capture me on the road within sight of the Sisterhood members, but she insisted it be done this way, told us all that the Sisterhood women had to find them fucking me.

And loyal servants that we are, we did exactly as she said. Those stupid goons were overjoyed that they got to fuck me. Hell, it was even kind of fun being stupefied and letting them do whatever they wanted. But I don’t think they expected the cost for getting to fuck me would have been their lives. Poor fools…

But it was all worth it! Now these dumb women have taken me into their service where I can keep a close watch on them for Elduni. I can start weakening them, and when the time is right I will be at their sides to betray them.


* * *


Having grown up within the Sisterhood Nur-Ayya has spent countless meals sitting around communal dining tables, but never has she experienced the simple act of taking in a meal at a roadside inn. To everyone else in the room the experience is nothing worth thinking about, they have all had similar meals in similar inns countless times. But to Nur, every moment is a new experience.

The food is full of so many strange, new tastes! The Sisterhood cooks make hearty, nutritious meals that are light on seasonings. But the greasy meal the inn’s owner has served them is exploding with taste, just one dish probably containing more seasoning than her last month worth of meals combined.

And then there is the boisterous atmosphere all around her, keeping her head swinging from side to side. The sturdy wooden tables of the tavern-like ground floor are packed with travelers, over thirty counting themselves. There are Humans and Dwarfs and Elves, all of them having loud animated conversations. And most of them men! Nur’s never been around so many men at once…

“You must all try the ale they keep on tap here,” Shiira is saying.

“I don’t know…” Camneveth says, thinking hard before speaking more. “It would be best if we avoided becoming inebriated. I know you said we should be safe at this inn, but I still think we should be on our guard. It is known that Elduni’s servants come this far from her lands.”

“I want to try some,” Nur says. “I’ve never tasted ale before,” she adds, not sure if that fact will help convince Camneveth to order a round of drinks or give her more incentive to tell them all to hold off.

“Surely one small cup won’t be enough to make any of you drunk,” Shiira says. “I know you don’t all have an Orc’s constitution—”

“They might not,” Lyithion says, interrupting her, “but as an Elf mine is superior to even yours.” She looks at Camneveth. “Let us all share a drink together. It will be good to bond over such a thing, and even if the drink affects you two humans the Orc and I shall remain clear headed enough to keep watch until we all retire to our rooms. Besides, if you hadn’t felt safe here you wouldn’t have rented us individual rooms.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re correct,” Camneveth says. She turns and waves down the innkeeper and orders ale for the four women sitting at the table.

Nur feels herself practically quivering with anticipation when the ale shows up. All eyes seem to turn to her as she takes her first sip. All three women erupt into laughter when her face squishes up and she spits the drink back into the cup. “Ugh! It tastes awful!”

“Not awful,” Lyithion says as she takes a swig between chuckles, “just strong. Make sure if you decide to try drinking it again you go slowly. You too, Camneveth.”

The fire mage takes a small sip, curling her lip in disdain at the taste. “I much prefer wine,” she says, placing the cup back down on the table. “But if this is the drink the party has decided to bond over, I will drink it.”

For a time they all sit and drink their ale, their conversation light. They make no mention of their quest nor the fact that they are members of the Sisterhood. They feel safe in the inn, but not safe enough to discuss their quest openly. Instead they talk of light matters, Camneveth leading them in a discussion on how the magic they use all differs.

Shiira mostly stays quiet, claiming she has no experience with using magic. Lyithion tries to explain what it’s like drawing upon the magical powers of nature, but none of the other women really seem to understand. And it’s clear that Camneveth looks down on the druid’s “simple and primitive” magic as equally as she looks down on Nur’s god driven magic.

Nur-Ayya says less and less as the conversation goes on. Partially this is because she has been determinedly drinking the ale and it is now making her head swim, filling her with a warm lazy feeling that is making it hard for her to keep up with the conversation. But she’s also distracted, her mind returning to memories of what the bandits had been doing to the Orc. The memories bring out strange, unfamiliar feelings in her, feelings that leave her feeling warm and moist between her legs.

“Nur? Nur, are you okay?”

“Hm? What? I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?”

“Yes,” Camneveth says. “I was asking you… Oh, never mind. I think the ale is making you too sleepy. Why don’t you head up to bed?”

“Yes,” Nur says, realizing just how nice bed sounds. “I think I should. Besides, I need to do my nightly prayers before I get any more drowsy.” She pushes her chair back and gets to her feet. “Have a good night, and I’ll see you all in the morning.” The other women nod at her and go back to their conversation as she walks away.

As Nur makes her way past all of the men sitting around them she’s aware of the fact that nearly every one of them turns to watch her pass. Their eyes all seem to be drawn to her, or more accurately to her breasts. This makes her feel self conscious about them for the first time in her life, causing her to walk faster to get out of their sight.

Once in her room she kneels besides her bed and begins to pray. “Oh mighty Ynara, goddess of fertility and the female form, I pray that you give me guidance tonight. The journey before us shall be trying, and I have such little experience compared to my fellow travelers.” She closes her eyes and bows her head. “In the past you have given me visions, shown me which way to choose in life. I implore you, show me the way again tonight in my dreams.”

Once her prayer is over she climbs into bed, pulling the warm blankets up around her and almost immediately beginning to drift off to sleep. As she falls into a deep slumber the ring on her finger begins to hum with magical energy, opening her mind to the influences of the dark gods that watch over her. Soon she will be visited by one of those gods in her dreams, just as she has prayed for. But it won’t be Ynara that enters her mind…


* * *


“I just don’t know how we can continue this conversation when you’re ignorant of the basic principles that run through all magical talents. Why, you don’t even know Gump’s Third Law of Magical Resonance, how are you even able to cast spells? Your magic is just so… primitive!” Camneveth’s voice is loud, a little too loud.

Shiira laughs, leaning in to whisper in Lyithion’s ear. “I think this human can’t take her ale either. Good to know a drink or two is all it takes to get that stick out of her butt.”

“What was that?” Camneveth asks, glaring at the two women sitting across from her as they giggle. “Nothing, Cam,” Lyithion says quickly. “Shiira was just commenting on how good the ale is.”

“Oh, yes, it does get better as you drink more of it,” Camneveth says. She looks down at her mug and opens her eyes in surprise. “Oh! It looks as though I’ve nearly finished it.”

“Well then,” a deep raspy voice says from behind her, “perhaps I should buy you another.”

The three women at the table turn to look at the woman standing behind Camneveth. She is a tall Human, thin and dressed in robes traditionally warn by a battle mage. Her outfit is sleeveless, showing off muscular arms, one of which is covered in glowing and shifting blue tattoos.

Her facial features are slightly boyish, but in a pretty feminine way that is complimented by a short man’s haircut. Her eyes glow the same blue as the tattoos on her arm, leaving no doubt the woman’s body is coursing with powerful magical energy.

“I’d be more than happy to share a drink with you while we discuss Gump’s Third Law of Magical Resonance, maybe even the fourth and fifth ones as well. I find few mages during my travels that have come far enough along in their magical education to be able to discuss such matters.” The strange woman glances at the Elf and the Orc sitting across from Camneveth. “You won’t mind if I steal your friend away for a moment?”

“Of course not,” Shiira says quickly. “I’m sure she’ll have a much better time talking to you than two magically ignorant savages such as us.” She snickers, letting everyone at the table know she is only joking.

Camneveth gets to her feet, holding her empty mug up. “I think that sounds lovely! Why, I haven’t unwound like this since… well, never! Come, let us drink and talk of the laws that govern all magic!” She stumbles slightly as she begins to follow the mage with the glowing eyes.

The woman grabs her by the arm and steadies her. “Excellent. My name is Plicevira, by the way.”

Lyithion stares after them, deep in thought. “There was something strange about that woman… did you notice the wreath of flowers in her hair? There was something familiar about them, about the strong scent coming off of them. Something that has me worried.”

Shiira slaps a hand on the Elf’s back. “Aw, lighten up! She’s just another mage looking to talk about her trade with someone who understands. Probably just an adventurer staying here on her way to rob some ancient tomb of its treasures. She’s not likely to be an agent of Elduni’s, secretly looking to ensorcell your brave leader.”


* * *


Camneveth was having a progressively harder and harder time following the conversation. The multiple glasses of ale were clearly going to her head, but there was something else… It felt like there was a thick, muggy cloud of relaxing, even stupefying, scent in the air. It had a pretty, floral smell to it; a scent that put her mind and body at ease. So at ease that even as she thought about how the smell was affecting her she was unable to do anything about it.

“You look sleepy,” Plicevira says, a knowing smile pulling on the edge of her lips. “Perhaps it would be best if we continued this conversation somewhere more comfortable, somewhere that you could lay back and relax if you wanted to. Perhaps my room? I have rented the largest in the inn and it comes with a luxurious couch we could lounge on.”

The mage is up and lifting Camneveth onto to her feet before she has a chance to answer. “Come on, sleepy head, lets head upstairs and get comfortable then continue this conversation.”

“Yeah,” Camneveth says, her voice dreamy and distant, “continue our conversation.”

Moving through the crowded room and then up the inn’s stairs feels like moving through a dream. The world swims and spins around Camneveth, the air feeling thick as water and swirling about her in strange distorted patterns. What is going on, she thinks. Her mind struggles to make sense of the situation, but it’s so muddled she is unable to see the plain fact that she is being magically charmed.

Once in the privacy of the room the woman tells Camneveth to sit on the couch. “It’s comfortable, yes? Far finer than is normally found in an inn like this. I hear the owner put it in to help accommodate all the travelers coming to and from the brothels in Cliffshield. I’m sure a Sisterhood member like you wouldn’t know this, but one can actually buy a prostitute from the flesh markets there now and keep her as a personal slive!”

Camneveth is lying back on the soft couch, her head swaying from side to side. “Never said… Sisterhood… How you know?”

Plicevira laughs. “Oh, sweetie, your kind is impossible to miss. Knew who you were the minute you walked in the door. EVERYONE knew. We were warned by Elduni to be on the lookout for your party.”

“Elduni?” Camneveth says, confused by the mention of the evil sorceress. “Evil… must stop…”

“Shhhhhh,” Plicevira says, “don’t worry about that now. Instead look at me, tell me what you think.”

Camneveth looks up, noticing now that the mage has undressed. Her body is slender, but her thin body is covered in well shaped muscles. It’s a body that seems to be both masculine and feminine at the same time, a fact that confuses Camneveth even more.

The woman has tiny, perky breasts with small metal piercings through the nipples. The glowing, dancing blue tattoos that cover one arm extend up onto her shoulder and down onto the top of one breast. Along with her eyes they glow more intensely now, as if her magical power has increased now that she is naked.

But it is what hangs between the woman’s legs that draws Camneveth’s full attention. The woman has a large phallus hanging between her legs, but it’s strange and obviously out of place. There are no testicles below it, and Cam can see that the woman still has a vulva under her shaft. It is as if the cock has grown out from where her clitoris should be.

“Not… right… not… natural…” Camneveth says, lifting an arm slowly and pointing at the woman’s crotch.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? Perhaps your half right, it isn’t natural. I was born a woman, just like you. And at most times I remain that way. But like my Master Elduni, I worship Naserette the futa goddess. At times she gives me her blessing, letting me experience sexual pleasure in the way a man does.”

She saunters across the room, sitting down next to Camneveth on the couch. She gets comfortable, spreading her legs wide open in a very masculine way while she rests both her elbows on the back of the couch. She stretches out one of her arms and wraps it around Camneveth, pulling the stupefied mage in close to her.

“Come get a closer look, see firsthand and up close the marvels that the gods you Sisterhood fools mock as ‘corrupt’ can bestow upon their worshipers.” She pulls Camneveth in and down, leaning her over sideways on the couch and pressing her face towards her cock.

“It’s so big, and smells so strong,” Camneveth slurs sleepily.

“Why not grab hold of it? Give it a squeeze and see if you can’t make it hard.” A moment later Camneveth is doing just that, using one hand to grab the meaty shaft and gently squeezing it in a steady pulsing motion, feeling it grow thick and full in her hand.

Plicevira moans in pleasure, letting her head fall back and rest on the wall behind the couch. “Yes… this is how you Sisterhood sluts should be spending your days.”

She lifts her head up and looks down, pleased to see how fast her cock has gotten hard in the fellow mage’s hands. “Now why don’t you take it in your mouth? Try sucking on it a little. Maybe it’s something you’ve never done before, but I can teach you how.”

Camneveth mumbles something incomprehensible then shifts closer, lifting the woman’s cock to her mouth and taking it in. She begins sucking, bobbing her head up and down slowly in uncertain movements that seem to grow more skilled with every bob of her head.

“Ah, maybe this ISN’T your first time doing this,” Plicevira proclaims happily. She still has an arm wrapped around Camneveth, and she now snakes it around the woman’s shoulders and reaches down into the front of her top. “With big tits like this I’m not surprised. So large and thick and heavy…. Mmmm, just grabbing at them is making me harder. You feel that in your mouth, feel what your indecent cow-tits do to my cock?”

She pinches one of Camneveth’s nipples, causing the stupefied heroine to moan in surprised pleasure. “Oh, you like having you nipples played with? Knew you had to be a slut deep down under all that Sisterhood training. You Sisterhood sluts are all the same, lying to yourselves as much as you do to the rest of the world.”

The ring of corruption on Camneveth’s finger throbs with magical energy. It flows into its wearer, giving her skills far beyond those she would normally have. It also works its magic on Plicevira, making the woman more aggressive than she would have normally been.

She pulls her hand out of Camneveth’s shirt, abandoning her tit and instead running her fingers into the mage’s bright red hair. She grabs a handful of hair tightly in her hand and then begins jerking the woman’s head up and down on her cock. Camneveth chokes slightly, gagging as the cock is forced deeper into her mouth faster and faster. Saliva begins to run down her shaft, Camneveth struggling to breathe, yet she doesn’t try to pull or push away. She simply lies in Plicevira’s lap and follows the woman’s lead.

“You sisterhood bitches are all the same, assuming you can trust all women. I bet I could have gotten you up here even without the charm that’s left you so stupid and obedient. Your world view is so simple, everything and everyone good or evil, with or against you.

“But the real world is more complex, isn’t it? Here you are, sucking me off, my cock in your mouth. Yet I’m a woman! I hear you Sisterhood sluts view Naserette and her blessing as unnatural. But tell me, with the cock her godly powers has bestowed upon me in your mouth, does it feel unnatural to you?”

She waits for an answer but the only sounds that come from Camneveth are loud wet cock sucking sounds mixed with the occasional choke and gag.

“Ungh! You’re MUCH better at this than I thought you would be,” Plicevira says. “I don’t know whether that will please or anger Elduni once she gets her hands on you. Either way, I’m not going to last much longer, which means it’s time to get down to business.”

She begins chanting, muttering arcane wards in an ancient language under her breath. She continues to pump Camneveth’s head up and down her cock, but as she does so she begins moving her free hand. Her fingers dance and trace magical glyphs in the air, blue energy glowing gradually more intensely around the hand.

Once the spell is ready she gently places the glowing hand before Camneveth’s head, the energy slowly seeping from her hand into the red haired woman’s forehead where it enters her mind. She chants a few more words in the ancient tongue then loud and clear in the common tongue she says the phrase, “Show me your fat cow tits.”

For a moment Camneveth’s eyes glow blue, the trigger phrase Plicevira has magically implanted into her mind burning into place. But the spell is not done, it still needs a catalyst to be permanent.

Plicevira delivers the catalyst into Camneveth’s mouth a moment later with a shuddering groan. “Drink it,” she says, “drink all of cum and the spell will be permanent.”

With a long, satisfied sigh her body goes limp. She lets go of Camneveth’s head after pulling her away from her cock. It hangs semi-erect between her legs, covered in spit and some cum that the mage didn’t manage to swallow, slowly growing soft.

“All right my pretty fat-titted fire mage, I’m just going to take a little breather then we’ll take you to your room. I’ll need to cast a couple memory charms, make sure you don’t have any conscious memories of what really happened tonight and that all you remember is a friendly conversation about magic. In the morning you’ll be starting out on your grand quest none the wiser to the fact deep in your mind is a phrase that will return you to this stupefied, obedient state.”


* * *


“I just like the good the Sisterhood does in the world,” Lyithion says to Shiira with a smile. She’s enjoying the conversation with the Orc, happy the woman is more civilized than most of her race. “I had traveled to many distant corners of Alaria before I decided to take up with them. I felt I could do the most good working with them.”

She lifts her mug to take a drink only to find her cup empty. “Ah… this ale really is quite good. I think I’d like another cup.” She starts to get up, but Shiira quickly reaches out and grabs her arm.

“Please,” the Orc says, “let me go get another mug full for you.” She grabs the mug and quickly gets to her feet.

While she is gone Lyithion looks around the room. About a third of the inn’s patrons have retired to bed, but there is still a rather boisterous crowd all around her. All of them men, all except her and Shiira.

The Orc returns, placing the mug full of ale in front of the Elf. “Here you go, drink up.”

“Thank you,” Lyithion says, taking a long drink of the ale. “Mmmm, delicious.” She pauses then. “Although… there’s something different, a subtle taste that wasn’t there before.”

“The innkeeper just opened a new cask,” Shiira says quickly. “I’m sure that’s all you’re tasting.

“Oh,” the Elf says dumbly. She’s feeling suddenly flush and a tad dizzy. “I’m sure your right,” she says, not wanting to Orc to see that the alcohol seems to be finally affecting her.

Thankfully Shiira chooses that moment to stand and stretch, yawning loudly in a way that shows off her ferocious looking lower canines. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” she says. “I think I’m going to head up to bed. But you should finish that ale before turning in, wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

“Yeah,” Lyithion says, trying hard to keep her composure till the Orc is out of sight. As soon as she is she begins to sway slightly, lifting a hand up to her forehead and using her other hand to right herself on the table.

“It’s really hitting me now,” she mumbles. As an Elf getting intoxicated is a rare occurrence, and the feeling is kind of exhilarating. Recklessly she takes another large gulp of the ale, nearly draining the mug in one go.

As soon as she swallows it’s like a pile of bricks is dropped into her mind. The world begins to sway around her violently, making her lose her equilibrium and fall back off her chair. She lands ungracefully on the inn’s floor with a loud thud, causing a number of nearby men to jump to their feet and crowd around her.

“Are you okay,” one of them says, reaching down and lifting her up into a sitting position.

The words echo in her head, the world around her seen through an intense heat haze. The air feels so warm and thick, and her body seems as though it’s suddenly been lit on fire. There is heat everywhere, intense tingling in EVERY inch of her flesh. And her throat is parched, so dry…

“Thirsty,” she says. “Need…” She intends to say “drink” but as she begins to utter the word she realizes it isn’t exactly right and stops from saying it out loud. She needs something, something that will quench the thirst filling her more and more with every breath. But it isn’t simple drink she needs.

One of the men crowding around her hands her a drink. She pours the liquid down her throat, desperate to cool the fire inside of her. But the drink has no affect.

The men help her to her feet. The world spins around her, everything a hot blur. There is only the heat, only the thirst. She stumbles from table to table, knocking things over and bumping into people. She takes drinks from tables, seeing if their contents can help quench her thirst.

One man takes offense to this, jumping to his feet and pushing the thin, tall Elf hard enough to send her falling down onto her ass. He stands above her, grabbing his crotch and jeering crudely at her.

Lyithion’s eyes shoot open. “That,” she blurts out, pointing at the man’s crotch. “That’s what I need to quench my thirst. I need your seed!”

The crowd of men grows silent. Many look about, waiting for someone else to make the first move. The man she’s pointing at curls his lip up in a happy, cruel sneer. “This Elf bitch is a real desperate slut, eh boys? Well, I say we give her what she wants.”

A moment later his cock is out and he’s shoving it in her face. Lyithion takes it in her mouth, grabbing it with both hands and hungrily beginning to suck him off. The red gemmed ring on her finger is glowing, energy pulsing into her mind as it shows her how to get the man of quickly with her mouth.

The ring also works its magic on the men in the room, making them all aroused and convincing them they too need to give the Elf druid their cum. Soon they are all crowding in around her, pulling their cocks out and shoving them at her.

For Lyithion the world is a hot blur of cocks and confused motions. The herbs that Shiira slipped into her last mug of ale were strong, making her act with desperation to get cum. The Elf takes in load after load, using her mouth and hands to coax it out of cock after cock. She takes in every drop, the thick bitter tasting liquid helping cool the fire deep inside of her.

The ring works with the drug, ensuring her thirst isn’t just for cum but for cocks as well. Soon she is riding a man who lies under her, his hands on her naked ass as she bounces up and down on his shaft. She doesn’t remember undressing, doesn’t remember getting on top of the man. She only lives for the moment of wetness when his seed explodes deep in her.

With each load of cum she takes in the fire dies down little by little, but as the fire calms inside of her the world grows more blurry. Eventually she is uncertain what is real, confused by what is happening to her. Is this just a fever dream she’s having? Her repressed sexual energies unleashed in a cock filled vision of desire?

In the morning when she wakes this is what she will think. Even though the evidence, the cum stains on her clothing and the smell of semen in her hair and coming from her pussy prove otherwise. The ring ensures she doesn’t think too hard on it. Ensures that to the Elf it is all “just a dream”, but one that leaves her wondering if something is missing from her life.


* * *


Nur-Ayya is aware that she is dreaming, but she also knows that this is no normal dream. This is a god’s dream, a moment of heightened reality where one of Alaria’s deities has chosen to speak directly to her.

She rises from her rented bed, moving silently through the inn. She is being drawn to the lower floor, to where she had dinner the previous night. The inn around her is familiar, yet not. The wooden walls all have cracks and holes. Behind them she can see the ethereal plane, a vast never ending expanse of glittering stars and glowing colored gasses. The place the gods live.

There is a particular orange glow to the gas out there, an almost fire like quality to it. She can feel heat emanating from the holes in the walls, as if the inn is surrounded by great fires. The orange light intensifies, heat haze misting in through the holes.

This is not magic she knows, not her goddess’ magic. As she comes down the stairs she feels that she will soon see who has summoned her and she knows it won’t be Ynara.

The inn is empty, the only figure standing on the ground floor her. But no, that’s not right. In a far corner, standing behind one of the large wooden tables, is a shadowed figure. She moves towards it, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The shadowed figure is tall and thin and hard to make out. It looks as if it is male, but it is impossible to tell what race the being is. There is the hint of horns on its head, but beyond that the only feature she can make out are glowing eyes. The eyes glow bright and intense, failing to illuminate the shadowed figure yet lighting up the room around it. It is a deep orange light, that of an immense flame. A steady even color, no hint of pupils.

“Nur-Ayya Tattannu, you have prayed for guidance. You have prayed for the ability to see what is before you to better guide you through your quest.” The god’s voice is deep and crackles like a fire. “I can give you this and so much more, you need only accept the cost.”

Nur steps closer, nervous but eager. “Yes, I want this,” she says. “I accept the cost, whatever it is.” Her goddess has only ever been kind to her, she doesn’t think that a god could ask for more than she would be willing to give.

The god’s eyes grow momentarily brighter, for a just a moment illuminating part of his face. His features are all narrow and sharp and he has a pointed goatee on his chin.

“Very good,” he says. “But to see the future is to test fate, and doing so requires a roll of the dice.” As he speaks he holds his hand out across the table. His finger tips burn with small wispy flames, illuminating his open hand. Resting in his palm are two dice, cubes that look to be carved out of bone, the dots on their surfaces glowing with the same orange as his eyes. “I am Nolo, god of chance and fate. Take the dice and make a roll. If you roll well I will then show you your future, and afterwards I shall tell you the price fate has randomly determined for you.”

Her hand shaking, Nur reaches out to take the dice. Nolo’s hand is hot, as if he himself is made of fire. She takes the dice, marveling at the feel of them in her hand. The bone is cold, like ice, yet there is an immense heat radiating from inside at the same time, a heat that burns her hand even as the cold surface freezes her skin.

“Roll,” Nolo says, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward in anticipation.

Nur does as he says, rolling the dice. They clatter along the table, landing on a five and a six. She looks up and thinks she can see a wide grin on Nolo’s shadowed face.

“Was a good roll,” he says. “I will show you everything.” With alarming speed his hand reaches out across the table. He seems to grow larger as he moves, making it so he can easily reach her face. He places a burning oversized hand over her face and there is a flash of heat in her mind and then the visions begin.

Nur sees Sasha in this very inn, sees the bard with her doing things to her… doing things with her breasts! She sees visions of what happened to the knight, sees her massive breasts that she tried so hard to keep hidden form the world revealed first to the bard and then for all in the world to see. Nur sees her final fate, sees her brought to Cliffshield and made to work in the brothel known as The Dairy Farm. She sees the moment where the woman’s mind is broken and she submits fully to Elduni.

She shudders in horror as she sees the indecent things the large breasted women working at that brothel are made to do. She is revolted by the way they are all magically enchanted to lactate, disgusted by the way the men that come to fuck them happily drink their milk as if it was a delicious ale to get drunk on.

Nur then sees flashes of her and her traveling companions. She sees a vision of the Orc betraying them. She sees the dangers that lie on the road ahead of them, sees all the terrible sexual things that are going to happen to them. She sees them finally reaching Cliffshield, entering The Dairy Farm in secret and trying to save Sasha only for some of their troop to become captured and become “cows” who work in the establishment.

And through all the visions she sees the rings of protection they wear. Except she REALLY sees them, sees them for what they truly are: not rings of protection but rings of corruption. She sees how the gods the Sisterhood fights against have tricked them, how they created these rings and how they use them to corrupt the greatest or most promising members of the Sisterhood. She sees how each of her party was doomed the moment they put the rings on.

She stumbles back as soon as Nolo removes his hand from her face, the visions ending as quickly as they began. Once she rights herself she looks down in horror at the ring on her finger. She wants to reach for it, the pull it from her and toss it across the room. But she can’t. The more clearly she pictures herself doing it the less her body seems to move.

“There is, of course, the cost,” Nolo says. “And I’m sorry to tell you that the game was rigged from the start.” She looks up, suddenly realizing that this god is one that has fallen to The Corruption. “Yes,” he says, clearly having heard her thoughts, “I am one of the gods responsible for those rings. And even though I have shown you your future I can’t have you changing it.”

He laughs then, a deep laugh full of dancing fire. “This is your fate Nur-Ayya Tattannu: to know all that is going to happen to you and your Sisters, yet being unable to do anything to stop it. Not even being able to warn them.”

“No,” she says quietly, stepping back.

“Oh yes, it is fate now. There is no escaping it. My suggestion? Learn to enjoy all of the deliciously sexual things that are going to happen to you and those massive breasts of yours. Revel in your abuse and downfall and ultimate corruption. Cause if you don’t, well, you’re going to have a rather rough ride.”

He then steps back, disappearing into the shadows of the room. A moment later the room starts to fade, the inn disappearing and leaving Nur floating in the void of the ethereal plane. And then, a moment later, that fades and her dream vision ends. But when she wakes she remembers it all, remembers but is unable to say a single word or take a single action to change any of it.


* * *


Breakfast the next day is a subdued event. All four women seem to be lost in thought. Camneveth is fondly remembering the exhilarating intellectual discussion she had, wishing she could spend more time with Plicevira and sad that she hasn’t seen her this morning. Lyithion is troubled by the strong sexual dream she had the night before, vaguely aware of the strange way the men around them look and snicker at her. Shiira is mostly silent, knowing at least a little of what happened the night before to the mage and the Elf and not wanting those at the table to grow suspicious.

And then there is Nur. She eats her breakfast in silence, her heart pounding. She knows what this day will bring, the first in a long line of days full of sexual perversion and humiliation. She wants to warn her Sisters, wants to tear the rings from their fingers, from her own finger. But she can’t. She gambled with fate and lost.

Soon they leave the inn, riding their steeds down the road towards Cliffshield and their ultimate doom.

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