Observe and wait for an opportunity to strike

Handing your skills as a swordswoman over to your fury is a common mistake made in the heat of battle. If you are going to face off against six daemons at once, even lowly ratches, you decide that you should calm yourself and wait for the right opportunity to strike. The disadvantage of this tactic is that it forces you to watch the cackling daemons defiling your fellow sisters, Penelope and Yves.

Not that the Penelope and Yves seem to be offering any resistance to the daemons. Their vows have already been violated by the daemons and their thrusting cocks and their pure bodies polluted with dripping cum. The ratches, swollen like bee-stung goblins, yip and thrust their cocks into the sisters, chattering to each other as they fuck them both.

Two of the little beasties finish with Yves almost simultaneously, one spurting into her mouth and the other grabbing her hips and filling her delicate quim with a sloppy load of its spunk. Given a chance to escape, the petite horse-tender immediately crawls on hands and knees over to one of the other ratches and begins to suck its cock. You shudder at the sight of the once-pure sister, chin dripping with icicles of cum, eyes full of lust as she looks up over the belly of the ratch and bobs her head eagerly on its cock.

What you see happening to the stable mistress is even worse. The ratch straddling her breasts fucks her mouth with squealing glee, but worse is how shapely sister Penelope squirms and thrusts her cunt against the black tongue of the ratch slurping between her thighs. She is clearly enjoying the daemon's tonguework, lifting her hips and grinding her slippery groove against the daemon's tongue. The appendage is several inches long and more like a spit-dripping tentacle than a tongue. The ratch thrusts it in and out of her gooey cunt and occasionally clamps its wide mouth over her whole sex and lewdly slurps.

Something tightens in your belly watching this perverse display. What you are watching is the most profound taboo of your order, to not only fornicate, but to do so wantonly with daemons. And yet seeing such a vile act is spreading warmth through your loins. It takes all of your faith to not thrust your hand between your thighs to touch yourself.

"Goddess, give me strength," you whisper with a long exhale.

Your attention is so absorbed by the obscenity being acted out before your eyes that you allow two ratches to slip up behind you unnoticed. They make their presence known with an excited hiss. As you turn, fear surging in your breast, one of the little fiends tackles you to the ground. His claws are a frenzy, shredding the front of your gown and opening shallow scratches on your side and hip. You push him away from you with a grunt of surprise, but as you reach for your sword you realize the creature has torn the belt off of you.

"Give that back," you cry, rolling to your feet.

The ratch looks at the sword and scabbard and tosses it to its companion. The other ratch cackles with glee, drawing sword from scabbard before discarding both into the bushes along the path to the barn. They turn on you, coming closer, their little thumb-sized pricks hard and their claws held at the ready as saliva drips between their sharp fangs.

Behind you, two of the ratches have been drawn away from their obscenity with Penelope and Yves to investigate what is happening.

"Givvvvveee upppppp," says one of the ratches, pronouncing the words with difficulty. His companions cackle with laughter as the four ratches close in around you.