The first mothers.

Two Monster Upgrades Remaining.

I navigated easily to the cottage in the woods where I'd left Lyla and her mother. My first conquests, the first mothers of my brood. I felt a vaguely religious attitude towards the empire I hoped to build on this world, and knew I would probably elevate these two to a place of importance by virtue of their being first. They wouldn't give birth first, but they were my first.

As I drew closer to the Mark I'd left on Lyla's shoulder, I felt the Mark on Roslinde's hand grow distant behind me. It was a remarkably useful feature; I could never lose myself between them as long as both lived. I wondered if I could deliberately create a network of Marked people to use as a navigational system throughout the world, with each instructed to never leave his or her immediate area. It was worth further consideration, I decided, but I put it out of my head as I approached my destination.

The vague point that was Lyla over the previous several days became a full person in my head. If I concentrated I could actually see her, sitting at a table. Her belly still a cute baby bump after nearly a week. The women in my village were all very pregnant already but she, her mother, and Jetta were going to take longer. That was just fine with me. They were each special in their way, and I had enough other women to satisfy my immediate needs for offspring.

Nothing was amiss around the exterior of the house. No signs that anyone had come around asking questions. My heightened senses picked up no unfamiliar scents. As far as I could tell, my girls had been totally undisturbed. Good.

I entered.

The first thing I noticed was the distinct aura of Melanoche permeating the entire building. It wasn't a smell, exactly, but it was like a smell. I felt it in my Core, however. It was hard to describe, but unmistakable. I had Desecrated this house. It was unmistakably the domain of the Black Night.

The second thing I noticed was, in fact, a smell. A mixture of smells, rather. The air was thick with the scent of both Lyla and her mother, as well as traces of blood, urine, and fear.

I turned into the main living area of the house; I hadn't seen it on my first visit, having limited my activities to the kitchen and dining areas. Lyla's mother was kneeling naked in the middle of the room, bound with ropes all over her body. Her arms had been drawn up behind her and secured to the ceiling, keeping her in an uncomfortable position, bent forward on her knees. Milk from her swollen breasts dripped lazily from her nipples to run down her thighs to a puddle on the floor and her skin was covered with small cuts and burns. Lyla was still in the other room, apparently unaware of me.

Detecting my presence, she whimpered and lifted her head but when she saw me her eyes widened. "You." she breathed and strained in her bonds. "You did this!" Her voice grew louder, her eyes wild.

The scrape of a chair sounded from the other room and the women whined like a dog, shaking in her bonds.

"I thought we learned to keep quiet in here, Mother." Lyla's voice preceded her appearance in the doorway. "I'll just have to make sure the lesson sti—" She cut off as she saw me standing over her mother. Her own eyes widened, but not in fear or alarm.

"You!" She said excitedly. "You came back!" She dropped to her knees and lowered her eyes to her mother, then to the floor. "I knew you'd come back. The voice told me." Her eyes flicked to her mother and then to me briefly before falling again. "She... my mother... wouldn't stop praying. Said she wanted to go find help. I couldn't let her leave. Had to keep her here, keep her quiet. I know you wanted us to stay here, to be hidden; I know it! She... the voice... it whispers things to me... I don't want to hear them but she makes me listen. Makes me want to help. I'm a good girl... I'm helping..." She trailed off a little, staring far away. A few dark flecks floated across the irises of her eyes and she shuddered visibly. Her hands went to her pregnant belly, affectionate.

I looked between them. The older woman was in rough shape. She'd probably been bound for a few days, and it looked like she'd been tortured. She was half-crazed from fear, anger, and pain. The daughter, Lyla, seemed half crazed, herself, but in entirely the other direction.

I cut the rope holding the mother's arms, as well as a few others so she could straighten her legs and I let her lay out on the floor.

Lyla watched carefully with such an intensity as I'd never seen in anyone. She was completely focused. More black flecks floated when she met my eyes and again she shuddered as if with pleasure.

"Tell me everything." I commanded Lyla as her mother weakly massaged her lower limbs and pulled more of the ropes from herself.

Information came out of the young woman in a flood, but it was slightly jumbled. I had to fill in some of the gaps. She was hearing Melanoche's voice in her head. Directly into her mind. She felt pleasure whenever she obeyed it, and pain when she resisted. She'd tried to fight it but her resolve hadn't lasted long. Her mother seemed to think it was a very bad thing, and wanted to get help, presumably from my Priestess, Jetta, since she was known in the area and the village was not too far away. Lyla felt compelled to stop her mother—whose name turned out to be Orra—from leaving, and Orra turned to prayer to Sigreddon. Some god whose name I didn't know, but who was certainly on the side of the Light. Apparently this had offended Lyla and the two fought about it until Lyla attacked and bound her mother.

I deduced that a combination my Alpha perk pushing Lyla to submissiveness towards me, the Mark to deliver her to Melanoche's possession, and the Desecration of the area strengthening Melanoche's presence in the world had led to a sort of soft-possession of the young woman, and she was part-way through the process of becoming a mindless thrall for the Black Night. I wouldn't have chosen such an **** method of preventing Orra from leaving or causing problems, but I couldn't argue with her results.

Priest Skill: Healing Magic
Mana 33/140

Extending a hand to heal Orra's body, I regarded the kneeling sycophant beside her. "You did well to keep hidden. Come here."

I extended tentacles to her and she sighed happily. "Thank you, thank you." Her relief was palpable. She must have been at least partially concerned that I would be displeased with her cutting and burning one of my pregnant mothers. But the marks had shown that she'd been fairly careful. They would have been painful, but not particularly threatening to Orra's health and certainly not to the baby directly. I was more concerned with the strict bondage and its impact on the developing offspring.

My tentacles took Lyla from the floor and drew her close to my body, entering all three of her holes as I gripped her firmly. She tensed slightly, but then relaxed as it became clear she was meant to enjoy this. I turned her this way and that, spreading her legs or doubling her over as my tentacles worked. I let her breathe more than most, so she wasn't overly distressed as she writhed in the grips of three back-to-back orgasms.

I barely paid her any mind. It had become so easy for me to use my tentacles that I didn't have to think about the thrusting and coiling for them to work my will on a captured victim. I leaned over Orra and confirmed that her babies were alive. It was still early in her pregnancy but Orra was the very first of my mothers. Her offspring felt oddly sentimental to me and I wanted to be sure.

She stared at me in confused horror as I stroked her hair. "Do monsters have souls? These things growing in me... are they... evil?"

I met her eyes with all four of mine and spoke firmly. "Do not defy me. Ever. Your gods are dead to you, and you to them. Embrace this and you will know pleasure and comfort the rest of your life. We will not have this conversation again." I burned the Mark of Melanoche into the side of her neck and she cried out but nodded, tears in her eyes.

Priest Skill: Dark Magic - Mark
Mana 30/140

"I need you to mean it, Orra. You are the First Mother. You will be an example to all women one way or the other. A model servant or a tortured, obedient husk. The choice is yours. Be grateful. Most aren't given a choice at all."

Her face paled, but she nodded gravely. "Yes. T-thank you."

Lyla cried out in ecstasy for a fourth time and I laid her down to rest on the floor rug, turning all of my tentacles to Orra, gently coiling around her limbs to spread her legs and bind her hands.

"You broke too quickly the first time, I think. I'm going to slow down and do it properly this time. Don't be afraid to struggle a little. I like it."

She opened her mouth to scream but I plunged one tentacle into her throat and dragged her towards my cock, already standing at attention. She'd forgotten me a little, it seemed. I'd make sure she wouldn't forget again.