Purification Project: Succubus

On the tranquil surface of the endless and yet enclosed ocean of Sera’s mind, there was a disturbance. After many hours, many days of trying she had sunken into a meditative state, nourished by her connection to the goddess, Elune, and little else, and so she had sat for uncounted moons, seeing and hearing nothing, feeling nothing, time washing over her not without being felt, but without being registered. It changed. Something changed. The air in her quiet enclosure, her cell, was disturbed. There was a foreign presence, someone else, who brought unwelcome novelty to her. No longer was the air in equilibrium, precisely as warm as she desired it, no longer was the silence total, and no longer was she free of any scent.

Sera took the first conscious breath of many nights, and the honey-lavender scent of Erys assaulted her nostrils, and spread in her mind. Thoughts sprouted in the wake of that sensation, bringing her closer to the self that had laid dormant and now, at last, rose to inhabit her body again. How long had she been sat there, in meditative trance, waiting to be called upon?

Without success, she tried to vocalize that thought. Nothing but crackling sounds and breath came out. Sera inhaled, and blinked. Slowly. A single slit in the spherical, druid-grown coccoon of wood in which she sat allowed moonlight in, and by that light, she saw her own hands. Purple skin. Strong. As she had left them. Placed upon her knees, her legs crossed. Another breath. She was once a sentinel, now a kind of knight. Blessed, brought out to handle one crisis or another, otherwise remaining in trance, cared for by Erys. The priestess. Her priestess. Caretaker. The one who laid her to rest, lulled her to something not quite sleep, but a dissociation so profound and all-encompassing that she understood and registered nothing. Not until she was brought back. Sera tried again, after swallowing. Her throat was dry, but it still helped. Somehow.

“Why am I back? Why have you called me?”

“We need your help, sister,” Erys said.

Sera closed her eyes, trying, with ethereal thought-fingers, to capture that voice, to entomb the words within her mind, so that she could keep them as hers, forever. She breathed deep, focused inwards, but nevertheless felt the memory of Erys’ delicate voice slip her mind again.

“When will I be free of this debt?”

“What debt, sister?”

“Is that… not why I sit here,” Sera said, halting herself. “Why am I here, if not to repay some debt?”

“You have chosen this, Sera,” Erys said.

Still, they had not seen each other. Sera remained on the floor of the little wooden bulb. Cell. Facing the arrow-slit window, her senses still settling in her. Competing for attention. She saw a sliver of the midnight blue, star-studded sky. She scented the priestess’ clean, perfumed form, the earth and vegetation outside, the rock giving off the heat it had absorbed throughout the day. She felt the cloth upon which she sat, the pliant wood below. Her own hands upon her knees. The temperature slowly falling, the humidity lowering. Erys had to have left a door open behind her.

“I chose this?”

“You looked upon me, looked me in the eyes, and nodded, when I asked, last, if you still wished to serve the order as you have for decades,” Erys said. “So, I set you here. Again. Agreed that, when next there was a need for you, I would call upon you.”

“And now there is a need?”

“You ought to wake properly, first. To be blessed, to have your connection with the goddess reforged.”

“Elune,” Sera said. She breathed in again, and tore her eyes from the little slice of the outside, to instead look at her arms. Bare, up to the middle of each upper arm. Strong. She was strong. Thick, blue-white, dimly shining bands of what seemed like luminescent paint coiled up and down, around, occasionally branching off into spirals. In the desert-ocean nothingness of her mind, soft moonlight came to her, wreathed her in its glow, and comfort. Again, she breathed in, deep. Closed her eyes, and allowed the feeling to encompass her, allowed the little, faint prickling dots to run their course across her skin. To her shoulders, her chest and back, her thighs.

Sera sensed the graceful footstep of her priestess, her sister in the faith, by her side. Standing there for a moment, then advancing to stand before her, turning in place to face her. Opening her eyes, she looked up, and saw her caretaker. Unbidden, Sera’s right hand, its fingers, rose from her knee just half an inch. There was an urge for it to rise further still, to find Erys’ cheek, and caress it. But she knew, as well, that this would be wrong. Unwise, somehow. Too familiar, too close. Closer than they were. Had been.

Instead, Sera watched Erys, framed by the pale moonlight, find a seat on her knees. White, simple robe, white tresses controlled by a ponytail nevertheless reaching so far down her back as to make it impossible for Sera to see where it ended. Faded, lilac wings painted on her face. Erys’ eyes were unusual, and until Sera had been sent far south, and had come upon a lagoon with unfathomably clear, turqoise-blue water, she had not had a natural thing with which to compare them. When had she been sent south? What had she done, there?

Erys, who seemed much more calm and comfortable with the situation than Sera, offered an understanding, pleasant smile. Rising from her seat on her own heels just so, she did not hesitate to reach her right hand out, cupping Sera’s cheek. Warm, and soft, and… why was it fine for her to do it, if it was too familiar for Sera to do it? She looked into Erys’ eyes, and then lowered her gaze, as well as her brows.

“You have been torn out of nothing, and everything is very confusing right now, Sera, my knight. I know. I understand. But it will come back to you,” Erys said. She stroked Sera’s cheek, just so. “If you will only be patient, and let me work.”

“Work? On me?”

“Yes, sister,” Erys said.

Sera nodded. She raised her eyes again. Erys was a head smaller than her, and easily noted as so when sat where she was. Smaller, but confident in her smooth movements. Confident in the hand that remained, for another few seconds, on Sera’s cheek. Withdrawn, then, and dipped into a small pot that the priestess had produced from somewhere. From a sack, which she had brought in with her. Sera’s attention focused on the two extended fingers, index and middle, which emerged outstretched from the container, their tips aglow with azure-white material. Clinging to them. Sticky, and thick. Sera leaned backwards a few inches as Erys’ fingers approached her face.

“Be still, sister. I am touching up your markings, nothing more. Or less.”

“Markings,” Sera said. She took a breath, eyes sinking to her arms. The bands snaking around and over her skin had to be on her face, too. She exhaled audibly through lips only just parted, and then nodded, leaning back into her former position. “Fine.”

Erys’ fingers, beneath the sticky, cool material being carefully smeared against Sera’s skin, were warm. Comfortable. She wanted their touch, and a thought, at once her own and feeling an intrusion, came to her, a reminder of who Erys was. They worked together before. Many times. They had been here, in just this position, many times. And when Sera went into the trance state, Erys’ fingers had been there. A soft humming. The knight – that was what she was – had thought to herself that she hoped and wanted those fingers to be in place again when she woke. Even knowing, as she knew, that she would be confused when emerging again from slumber.

Those digits traced two curving lines down either side of Sera’s face. Jagged, in places. Glaives. Her markings were glaives. She raised her right hand, curling her fingers around Erys’ wrist, not to crush, not really even to stop, just to hold.

“We… were close,” Sera said.

A wry smile creased Erys’ lips. “Were we?”

“I think we were.”

“I think you wanted us to be, sister,” Erys said. She wiped her hand thoroughly in a piece of cloth, and then laid her fingers against Sera’s cheek once again. For a little while. “What do you remember?”

“You were with me when I went into this trance. And I hoped you would be here, too, when I woke,” Sera said. “We have worked together for a long time. Known each other for a long time. You wake me when there is a need for me, and otherwise, I sit here. It is safer that way. Though I know not why.”

Erys caressed Sera’s cheek, and then withdrew her hand. Dipping its fingers into the pot once more, she indicated the vest and shirt that Sera wore with her head. “Remove those.”

As commanded, Sera removed her clothes. It was, for a moment, a mystery to her how she maintained the physique she still had, given she had remained still as a statue for days. Weeks. Months? But then, as she had not needed to eat or drink thanks to the power that flowed through her, neither had her body deteriorated at all. She was precisely carved from marble, as she had been when she entered the trance state, chiseled abs, muscle, on display. The swirling, thick bands of power coiled up over her torso, across one heavy breast, splitting then to reach shoulders and arms.

With a slow movement, one Sera had difficulty parsing, Erys pressed her fingers against some of that muscle, taking in a deep breath as she smeared the same azure-white, glowing substance into place, atop the already luminous lines. The priestess whispered nothings under her breath, words that Sera could not hear, little other than the occasional fragment recognized more from a pattern of breath expelled and lips moved than because the coherent sound reached her ears. The name of the goddess. Elune. She was being blessed, invested with power.

Erys stood, placed herself behind Sera, and repeated the seance there, drawing atop those lines that no doubt already existed, placing into them another measure of strength. And Sera remained, all the while, sat with her shirt and vest in her grasp, in her lap.

“We must do something about these scars,” Erys said, as she seemed to finish her work on Sera’s back. “Unless you want to keep them?”

“You have asked that before,” Sera replied. She narrowed her eyes, drawing thoughts up from an internal well she did not know she had. “And I asked you not to do anything.”

“You did.”

“Why ask now, again, then?”

“For precisely this reason,” Erys said. She placed the tips of a few fingers, spread, feather-light, against Sera’s strong back. “To make you remember.”

Sera remembered that, and more. It came back to her, like moss infiltrating and covering ruins, thoughts that were hers, a past her, returned, and covered over more and more empty space. Filled in the parts of her that were missing. She remembered, too, that she would now, at this point in proceedings, ask for the pot of sticky material herself, and that she was to touch up her lower body herself. That she did not want the priestess to have to kneel before her and do so. It was not proper. Sera reached a hand behind herself.

“You made me remember. At just the right moment, priestess. I will do the rest myself.”

“You need not.”

“I do,” Sera said. “Please, the pot.” After a few moments, it settled in her hand. A tiny thing, feeling light, and yet she knew that it would still be swimming with as much of the stuff as she needed. “I will be out in but a few moments.”

Seconds passed, and then she heard Erys rise, and walk to the door that she knew was there, even if she had yet to turn and see it. The hiss of the fabric covering the entryway moving over the priestess’ form, and then, the cloth settling, the weights at the bottom finding rest, Sera was once again alone.

Along with memories, with thoughts that told her who she was, who her friends and family and acquaintances were, alongside the glorious and terrible deeds she had accomplished in the past, had come other notions. Fragments of dreams, and desires, which she knew then that she had forbidden her past self – she should not have mentioned being close to Erys. She had not been. She had long desired to be close, but also known that she could not so denigrate the woman. Could not put in jeopardy her sacred duty, which they oversaw together. But, goddess, to be blessed, to be chosen, and then be unable to even think of using the blessing. Did Erys want it?

Sera stood. Slowly, unsteadily, for a few moments, after which she pressed open the settled buttons of her trousers, and began to work them down her hips and thighs. There were multiple aspects to being one of Elune’s chosen, the majority of them entirely chaste and well-known, but one thing in particular was kept rather more quiet, and for good reason. The reputation of any priestess working with one of the chosen would be sorely challenged – not that anyone engaged in anything untoward, but that would not stop any of the kaldorei from talking among themselves.

With an effort, she pressed her trousers another inch down, and then another, and, at last, they slackened and fell, revealing the colossal girth with which she had also been blessed. Its stirring was what had prompted her to ask whether she and Erys had been close, and though nothing but the priestess’ scent remained now, each breath let the lavender mist curl into and around Sera’s thoughts, causing the behemoth to waken a little more. She closed her eyes, breathed out, and found that it only caused her to cease, not to relax.

That colossus still remained in its place, wide, soft, flexible bands of cloth holding it against her densely muscled left thigh. There, it pulsed, very slowly. Waiting for Sera to slip up, for an errant thought to tell it to go on as it had been, and given just a few more moments, another memory came to her, arising from the murk of her mind at precisely the wrong moment. A moment’s mistake, when Sera had pushed aside the cover over the doorway to the baths, where her eyes had feasted upon Erys’ firm, peachy backside. She could not let go of that image, nor, she realized later, had there ever even been a question of control. Natural, primal, almost as if the gift she had been given by Elune set in her, encouraged in her, such behavior.

Sera took a deep breath, and sighed it out between parted lips. Tried to still her mind. Focused instead on the pot of sticky material, which she dipped twin fingers into, to then follow a slowly swirling band down her right thigh. She had to seat herself again to follow it all the way down past her knee, thrice circling her shin, tapering off into nothing as it moved past her ankle and onto the top of her foot. Much the same repeated on her other thigh. And, in that precise moment, rather more dangerously, from her hard stomach to the root of her huge, fat cock, down its smoothly-veined, weighty length, splitting into a twin-branched tree, one along its top, one curling down, repeatedly crossing over that wide, thick cumvein, as if to be sure to instill the blessing of the goddess in any load she pumped out.

Not because she wanted it to, but as a reaction to the stimulation, Sera picked up a piece of cloth to wipe the thumb-sized, hefty bead of softly glowing pre-cum from the head, the large drop still infused with the light of Elune even smeared and separated from its source. Again, Sera sighed out a breath, a hand resting against the side of that monster. Chosen. Somehow, this was a blessing. Somehow, she had to suppress the vivid image, the fantasy above them all, from playing in her mind once more. She failed, and pushed her pelvis forward against nothing, her mind unable to conjure the sensation that actually pressing into Erys’ ass would give her. She flexed, slowly, and another drop lengthened into a strand, which broke, and splattered to the floor. Glowing like a sort of flattened pearl, indigo filled with the purest white light.

Another moment passed. Sera, the sacred paint dried, was at last able to begin to work her trousers back on, though it was all the harder to get them on now, as thoroughly worked up as she was. It was not food or drink she lacked when she woke, but touch. Touch that Erys had given, before being sent away, so that her knight could regain control of all of herself. A paltry, thin veneer of control, one that had her struggle, wait, try to relax, and struggle again for over ten minutes, until, at last, Sera was able to re-seat her pants and button them back up. She closed her eyes for a few more moments, but found it not easier, but harder not to think of Erys in that singular, exploitative way. She needed a distraction, and, oddly, it would have to be Erys.

Sera steeled herself, exhaled, and ran a hand down over her face, as if to thus wring emotion from it, presenting only the stern control which she imagined the priestess expected of her. Play the statue. Dependable. Measured. Composed. Another breath, and then she turned, exiting her little cell.

Emerging into a dim hallway, Sera first looked side to side, then up. Erys was lit by little blue flames contained in blessed stone lamps hung from a ceiling several feet above, a simulacrum of a starlit sky maintained by what seemed to be lazy firefly lights moving endlessly back and forth along the corridor. Unceasing, turning when they reached the door at one end, and then again at the bare wall at the other.

“What is the mission?”

Erys took the few steps between her and Sera, reaching out for and taking both hands in her own. Thumbs drawing slow circles on the back of each palm. She did this rather than answer, and Sera felt a need to wash her hands thoroughly. It had been not so many minutes since she had been struggling not to stroke her mammoth blessing, and now, the priestess’ fingers met her own. Those that had so struggled. Beneath Erys’ breath, prayer could be detected. The faint movement of lips. Sound upon sound, some suggesting that she was in need of a drink. Dry lips.

“Priestess?”

Rather than answer, she shook her head. Faint annoyance in the movement, and so, Sera knew that she was not to disturb the investiture of power going on. The blessing of those markings she had refreshed herself, not just with power, but with the enhancement that seemed to take only on Elune’s chosen. Spellwork that made her slowly gather the power of the goddess to her, into herself, rather than shed it. That was the network Erys worked and made strong again, not some temporary infusion. Minutes passed so, in the dusk, their hands in each other’s, until the priestess finally looked up.

“Legion remnants still dot and pollute the lands despite their defeat,” Erys said. She kept Sera’s hands in her own. “One such dot, a succubus calling herself Nyxsheni, has grown careless, having seduced quite a following. That following not only feeds her, but it seems to make her bolder. Makes her feel safer.”

“And it falls to me to deal with her? Can someone else not swing the glaive and decapitate the beast?” Sera remained still, failing to make herself pull her hands free of Erys’ pleasant grip.

“She has become powerful. Strong enough that your special talents are needed, if we are to conquer and extinguish her influence.”

“Someone else could be blessed and infused,” Sera said.

“No one is blessed as you are, sister,” Erys said. She looked up at Sera intently, not speaking the words, but conveying, very clearly, that she understood the kind of blessing that came with being one of Elune’s chosen. It was difficult to hide.

“I will think about it,” Sera said. She pulled her hands free from Erys’, at last. Rather less enchanted than she had been a few moments before. “While I recover.”

“Of course, sister.”

#

A night passed, and then a day where rest proved elusive. Sera spoke to one of the other attendant priestesses at the order’s headquarters, to whom she confessed that she preferred to stay in the halls. Preferred not to have to be the one to deal with the succubus, Nyxsheni, that she would rather withdraw from her duties as both chosen and knight, and perhaps draw Erys with her. So many years had passed in trance and fugue-state that, every time she emerged into the world again, it felt a stranger. Its people felt like strangers, with so many changes, so many tragedies, **** upon them in but a brief few years. Centuries had passed with little of note happening, once.

Sera rose from her bed, in which she had gotten little sleep that day. If a succubus had set up its base of operations close to a knightly order meant to hunt down and exterminate threats such as her, it was either exceptionally stupid, or powerful. In either case, she did not feel like it was her place, her duty, to deal with it. Certainly not to do what was heavily implied by Erys. Using Elune’s gift to pound a demon into submission? It was for Erys, if it was for anyone. Not a succubus.

When Sera wandered the halls under fake starry skies, and the grounds under a real one, she found no trace of Erys. Or, rather, she found many of the expected traces – notes, half-consumed mugs of tea, dog-eared tomes – but none recent. All day-old. Inquiring, she learned, then, that Erys had left very early that evening. Having been told upsetting news, professing a belief that Sera had grown tired of her long service to the order, and so, that Erys would have to deal with the succubus herself rather than rely on her long-time protege and weapon in elven form. Sera.

Such a mission promised not to be simple, but at least quickly determined. Either you had the power to contend with and kill or subdue the demon, or you would be added to its roster of servants, its harem, your will subverted to its desires. Thus, when another night passed without word, and then another, and a third, Sera grew convinced that Erys had been added to the roster, rather than extinguishing Nyxsheni’s fel flame. On the fourth night, a report came to the order that a priestess seemed to have fallen into the service of the succubus, and so, Sera’s fears became manifest.

There was nothing else to do but what Erys had first wanted her to, without stating it explicitly. No matter what now happened, any vain dream of idyllic and untainted life with Erys had been put on hold, and perhaps more than that, and it was Sera’s doing. She was tired of service, and so, not recognizing Erys’ dedication to the land’s safety and the order’s mission, a knight’s refusal to serve had sent the priestess into the jaws of the enemy. An enemy she proved unable to properly contend with.

It was not to rid the world of another succubus, another minor evil, that Sera retrieved her old combat gear. She was past caring for such a thing, recognizing that a past self would have felt ashamed at such thoughts, but no longer managing to produce much guilt at the thought. She had given enough, now. Enough of herself, enough life, and owed no more. Not to duty. To Erys, she owed much. From Erys, she wanted much.

And so, Sera donned her elaborate armor, shining, silvered steel, clacking and rattling as segmented sections flexed and worked with her movements. The armor was necessary, not to fight the succubus, but to provide the appearance of an idiotic plan – to fight a seductress. So used to such tricks working, Nyxsheni might just expect that someone turning up in armor was the kind of simpleton she could control with them, perhaps not realizing, until it was too late, that she faced someone more than her equal. If Sera could give off the impression of something near to control, she could get close enough to the succubus for the actual plan to work. Close enough that she could fuck the succubus into the ground, trusting that the power invested in her could conquer the fel fire in the demon’s heart.

To save her priestess, Sera had to employ her grandest blessing. There was no other way. Trying to fight her way in, with how many blindly loyal servants the succubus had reportedly amassed, would be suicidal. No matter her skill in battle, her technique, reach, size, a tide of people enamored with and following the commands of someone no doubt entirely capable of sending them to their **** would end poorly. Defense from all angles simply was not possible, and armor a stopgap, a chance not to have a mistake be the last. Not a perfect bulwark. No, it would have to be guile, and the succubus’ idea that she could subdue the will of one of Elune’s chosen through sex, that would carry the day.

It was very early evening when Sera set off. On her own, informing no one of where she was going. It would be obvious, anyway. The tavern where Nyxsheni had taken up residence, surrounded by her sycophant horde of admirers, was the only logical destination. Half a night’s journey through uncharted forest, the shield of anonymity that kept the order from the sight of its enemies, and Sera would be there.

#

In the borderlands where Felwood slowly gave way to Ashenvale forest, the lush greenery of the south encroaching on the twisted, corrupted landscape of the north, lay the tavern. A place on the precipice, once, but years of effort in reclaiming the lands north, blighted by the second Burning Legion invasion, had shifted it from that dangerous edge and into the relative hinterlands. Still a last stop, but no longer the last safe option. It lay several hours of walking into the living, noisy, enchanted woodland of Ashenvale, leaves endlessly rustling, brushing against one-another, drowned out here and there by loud insects, or aggressively courting birds.

Around the single, large structure, grown by druidic hand as so many kaldorei buildings were, nature stilled. Not that decay had set in. Instead, it seemed as if animals were drawn in by the same energy, the same invisible hand, that kept small packs of night elves, humans, trolls, and many others standing around. Every available surface had someone leaning against it, or sat upon it. If not the hindquarters of an elf, then a neat row of blue tits, chirping now and then. Or a squirrel, a badger, even a wayward crab had found its way to the lone building. Somehow.

Sera approached. Looked up to the open balcony of the two-story tavern, seeing the backs of several different people – both her own kind, and others. Each enraptured, it seemed, by whatever was happening inside. Some were armed and armored, others near-enough naked, and no one seemed to mind either way. Every scrap of attention was turned inwards, towards a warm and comfortable room, of which Sera could see only a fragment of a ceiling, lit by orange-red light. Soft tones, no flickering.

As she drew closer to the large building – really one central building and three adjoining, hammered and bolted-on structures, she came to a momentary halt. The same invisible hand that had captured so many other beings who had strayed too close came for her, too, but it was an ethereal brush of fingers against her cheek, beneath the helmet which entirely enclosed her face. A nail digging into the surface of her mind, getting nowhere, finding and digging no holes. That was the feeling, with more strokes, more fingers digging, as she drew closer.

She spent no time at all on the lost souls outside, most of them not even looking at her. The few that did could not conceal their jealousy at the mere fact that this stranger, this silver-filigree, towering knight, was allowed to step inside where they, presumably could not. At a certain point, the seductive agents of the Legion have used up their servants, and so they are sent away. To wither and die, or to remake and rebuild themselves, so they can once more be consumed. Such was the fate of those outside, or, rather, it would be. If Sera failed, and succumbed. She halted once more, for a moment, and when she began moving again, metal-covered boots rattling and stamping against the living wood of the floor, her limbs shifted subtly slower as she moved.

From within the ground floor came the scent of people. Not the enclosed, thick, unpleasant smell of unwashed filth and day-old sweat, but rather a pleasant warmth that attacked the nostrils. Sera shook her head, and blinked, and cast off the building illusions imposed upon her senses. Saw what the succubus had amassed, not what she wanted to portray. Saw people of all different kinds, shapes, draped over sofas, chairs, on the floor, behind and atop the counter. Most asleep, or so taken with the mind-warping fel magic infusing the air that they laid and stared, and did nothing save indulge in the false pleasure of senses deceived.

A few had the energy to slowly pleasure themselves, a few more to fuck, or to eat, or drink. But, on the whole, the dark interior, lit by churning, orange-red globes of captured light, was more a landscape of people than of things.

Forging a path through this cloying mess of bodies was an arduous task. Had it been a battlefield, Sera might have been able to drive them before her, make the mass part so as to get away from the reach of her glaive, but none of those present had done anything to deserve **** or injury, as far as she could tell. The trolls, or lone orc, perhaps, but no one else. So, like a plow in tough ground, she moved aside the landscape as best she could, slowly, moving the occasional questing hand away from her thigh, or backside.

The fingers digging into the surface of her thoughts, her senses, remained insistent. Unused to being turned back, perhaps, they seemed to have no other strategy than to continue trying what already did not work. Wisp-like touch withdrew with a rush of air that sounded almost like a pained hiss when they accidentally came into contact with one of those blessed bands of Elune’s power painted and tattooed on Sera’s body, but they returned again, soon after. Tracing ghostly lines everywhere. Along her jaw, down the bridge of her nose. Between her breasts. Painted invisible ink around her abs, each slightly raised muscle across her body thus noted, and treated. Caressed.

It was not the magic itself that bit, then, though she continued to leave her movements somewhat uncontrolled, as if she was at least partially under the effects of that seductive power, her pretense rather reminiscent of drunkenness, as opposed to being lust-drunk. It was her best effort, and she stuck to it for as long as she could. But the apparitions, the hands, were a vaguely physical manifestation, which seemed not to mind the pulsing power of the goddess in her when not in direct contact with it. And those hands, eventually, found the slowly stirring monster of a cock, strapped to her thigh.

Unless directed by the succubus, Nyxsheni, how could they know to focus on something like that, when they found it? Sera had to reason that the demon was aware of her, and worked actively to subvert her will. And, if not that, then to tame her physically. She pulled her lips back from gritted teeth, hissing beneath her helmet, as the first ghostly hand settled its delicate touch just below the rim of her enormous cockhead, enveloping perhaps halfway around her dormant shaft. Stroking up, and then down. Was there some breathy, self-satisfied, light laugh to be heard, behind all the breathing, the smacking of bodies against one-another? Did the succubus enjoy her reaction to being thus handled?

Sera neared the lazy slope of a ramp, rather than stairs, at the back of the central room. Still stepping over, past, and on the bodies of her kin, and of many others. Still assaulted from every possible angle by invisible hands, by intrusions into her mind that left a cloying scent of roses too sweet to be real. With a gloved, metal-clad hand, and with one leg, she pushed a human out of the way, and, at last, stood with a clear path to the ramp. Even there, people clustered and laid and draped over floor and banister, leaned against the wall, and on one-another, but there was a path, nevertheless. And, at the conclusion of that path, one step up the ramp, blocking the way, stood a familiar figure.

Erys. Not yet lowered to the level of the mass of writhing, sleeping, fucking bodies all around, still pristine, still welcoming. Still, to a first glance, looking much like herself. But she was a welcome, of a sort, that much was clear, for accompanying the sight of her was a crushing pulse of power, one which attempted once again to draw the veil over Sera’s eyes. Tried to make her see the endless, warm indulgence, the orange-red light, the softness of every surface, every being. Invited her to join. She blinked, and shook her head, and once again saw the reality of the place. The dusky interior, the scent not of clean desire, but of many people. The single person who did not change, veil or no veil, was Erys.

Those spectral fingers digging into Sera’s mind, otherwise clamped shut, a box of thoughts allowing no one and nothing in, found an opening, then. A drifting notion, which rose to the surface, unbidden, when Erys smiled, just so. The same thing, the same image, Sera had suppressed so many times. Herself, pressed in to the hilt, in Erys’ ass, holding her priestess close, so that they could rock back and forth in each other’s arms. It rose again, and again, and again. Immobilized Sera, so that she merely looked at Erys, unmoving, displaying no emotion. Stern, quiet, so as to be safe. So as to control herself.

Had someone, in that moment, thought to rise and try to sink a knife into a joint, into one of the eye slits of the helmet enclosing her head, she did not know if she would have been able to react, to stop them. The weapon employed against her was, instead, nonlethal. Erys took a step forward, onto the path momentarily cleared of bodies by Sera’s efforts, and placed her right index finger against the solid, embellished plate covering Sera’s stomach and chest, tracing along spiraling, crescent filigree, until arriving at roughly the point where the sternum began, beneath clothing, padding, chain, and plate. A nail tapped against metal, there, lightly, and yet the thin sound coiled into Sera’s ears and gained preference over the many other, different, sharper noises in the room.

“Take off your helmet, my knight,” Erys said. She looked up at Sera, a slight smile still curling the corner of her lips. A challenge, of a sort. Mischievous. A look she almost never wore back home, in the halls of the order.

Sera swallowed, and yet felt her mouth still watering. As if she were on the cusp of devouring something, her body responding to it. There was nothing to eat, nothing she wanted. Save to plant her lips on Erys’, though it was difficult to remember if she had always wanted that, or if it was the endless beckoning, urging, pushing of the suspect pleasure trying to impose itself on her mind. She took a deeper breath, and sighed it out slowly, audibly, which seemed to draw Erys in. Physically. She leaned closer, so close that she came to rest bodily against Sera, against all the armor and padding, looking up, still.

“I command you to take it off,” Erys said.

For a moment, something else was in her eyes. Not the almost sickening indulgence, the kind of hedonism that suggested that the person behind the eyes had been subdued, but a sharper glint. Something recognizable. It was not a pleading thing, but an order. Would a succubus know to make a priestess employ her authority in such a way?

Another sigh, and then Sera reached up. Undid clasps, and straps, and pulled the decorated helmet off, allowing in much more of the cacophonous soundscape, the scent of the room growing stronger, the sights imposing themselves further still. She focused on Erys, instead. Settled the helmet at her side, in her left hand, and arm, reaching the right up to tousle matted, dark green locks. It was, for a moment at least, a relief to be free of the thing, even if it was a bad idea to leave one’s head unprotected. But then, in the seductive den, it seemed the danger was rather more mental, social, hedonistic, as opposed to physical. Perhaps it would be fine.

Erys stood on her toes, and, automatically, without thinking about what she was doing, Sera stooped down just a little. Their lips met. Briefly. Why? Sera had wanted it for many years. In between long sleeps, yet never allowed herself to compromise her duty by indulging. And she had never understood Erys to want what she, herself, did. It could never have been, and it was not right to allow one sordid mission to change that. To so take advantage of her priestess, to fulfill her own desires, at Erys’ expense.

“I apologize, priestess,” Sera said. She straightened, shoulders rising and falling in a slight sigh. “I did not mean to—”

“Idiot,” Erys said. She continued looking up, eyes undimmed, in a way that entirely shed any pretense that she was under the sway of the succubus. “I could not contend with her, but neither has she made me a ****. I do what I want, of my own accord. And I want you to know that I am happy you came, even if I never doubted you would.”

“Did you go only to make me?”

“Perhaps,” Erys said. “Kiss me again.”

“Why?”

“Why, you ask,” Erys said. She offered Sera an unimpressed look. “Because we are in the den of a succubus, who thinks she has conquered me, and thinks she may yet conquer you.”

“Ah,” Sera said.

“And, Sera, because I want you to.”

“You do?”

The unimpressed look deepened, though it still rested upon a foundation of appreciation, and amusement. “Stop talking, and just do it. You have held yourself back for long enough.”

“I’m…” Sera trailed off, took a breath, and then leaned down to kiss Erys once more. It was not the time to argue, even as her ideas of the structure of her life, of her desires, of Erys’ desires, shifted radically beneath her feet. Decades of assumptions crumbling, the foundation of something else surging into the place left vacant. Was it possible to believe that Erys was not, even now, under the sway of the succubus, used to say precisely the things that would weaken Sera, would make her slow, stop, allow more time for her to be affected?

“Come with me,” Sera said, separating from Erys after a long, comfortable moment. “She is upstairs, no? We will take her on together.”

“You will take her on, my knight,” Erys said. “But we will have to convince her of two things. That I am under her sway, and that you very nearly are, needing only a little extra push. One that she will have to handle, personally.”

“What is your plan?”

Erys once more shared that mischievous smile with Sera, and the knight decided that she quite liked it. That she respected and adored the priestess, but that she wanted the person beneath that veneer, too. Even as Erys raised a hand, placing the delicate tip of her right index finger against Sera’s lips, conveying that there would be no answer, no revelation, perhaps that Sera would play out her role better if not told every detail.

“Play along. Do what is natural, my knight,” Erys said. “Come.”

The priestess said that final word with some emphasis, looking up into Sera’s eyes and holding the gaze for several seconds, during which they remained close. Without even thinking, Sera’s hand had slipped halfway around Erys’ waist, gloved fingers spread, a few even reaching the priestess’ ass. The world, the prying thoughts and magic and ghostly hands, all had momentarily been pushed away, back, allowing them to focus only on one-another. Erys turned, then, her hand finding the one around her waist, so that she could begin to drag her armored knight with her up the ramp, pushing past questing hands and writhing bodies to ascend.

One floor up, the press of people lessened significantly. There were even a few scantily clad, but nevertheless armored people. Weapons, if not in hand, then within reach. The vast majority of them engaged in some kind of carnal activity with one or more someones close to them, rather than at attention, and on guard. Even so, it was clear that, to the extent that a remote tavern had a sanctum, this was it. A line of devoted women stood, backs to the outside, upon the balcony, forming a wall behind the cushioned, long chair upon which the horned, winged matriarch of the debauched little cabal sat.

All of this, Sera saw in only a flash, as she was dragged not to stand before Nyxsheni, the succubus, but rather urgently into the lighter press of people at the far wall. Little acting was necessary, for a time, as she took in the myriad different people enthralled. Sentinels. Merchants. Warriors from near and far. Cenarion druids. Forest trolls, even a furbolg. Anyone who had come by, the matriarch clearly not discriminating, merely taking any worshiper, any servant, falling into her lap. Anyone, anything, open to languid pleasure, and more urgent, feverish movements.

Sera’s attention was torn from her surroundings, from examining the succubus out of the corner of one eye – it would have to come later. Nyxsheni was undoubtedly of a pleasing form, even with the horns, and the tail, and the wings. But, very quickly, her unearthly charms paled. Could not capture Sera’s attention quite so well as Erys, who had ceased to drag her, and instead turned. Stood, for a moment, looking up at her with a look that, once more, seemed rather more sedated by pleasure. Desirous. Whether that was genuine, or influenced by the succubus, Sera could not tell. She admitted that, when Erys pushed the tip of her tongue out just to wet her lips, it was difficult to continue to remain strong, to resist, to care for propriety. To uphold stern self-control, or duty-bound restraint.

The priestess raised a finger to Sera’s lips, again, holding it there, and then trailing it downwards. Slowly. Over her chin, her throat, where armor and padding once more blocked direct physical contact. Down the breastplate, until Erys sank to one knee, then both, her finger catching upon the upper rim of the weapon belt circled around Sera’s waist.

“Perhaps we should remove your armor, my knight?”

Sera wet her lips. A hundred times, a thousand times, she had suppressed dreams not dissimilar to what she now saw play out before her, and in those dreams, she had been resolute. Determined. They both wanted it. But now, she had to play a role, and, soon enough, realized that perhaps Erys had been right not to tell her. It was much easier to be convincing when one was genuine, rather than trying to act. None of her fantasies had involved doing this before an audience, certainly not a demonic one. It was easy, then, to be conflicted. Even as she nodded.

“Yes,” Sera said. At last. Slow hands moving to undo the belt, and then to begin unclasping, unstrapping, untying tens of different places, so that she could unburden herself. Erys had helped put the armor one many times, and remove it, too. Had the priestess, in those moments, wished for her knight to wrap arms around her, to be held close. To be held down, even? Sera’s thoughts snapped back to reality, plate and chain shed, Erys’ questing fingers impatiently digging past layers of padding and clothes, finding skin at last. Hard abs, against which she pressed, fingers splaying, the priestess exhaling audibly. With relief. Somehow. As if only then able to trust that Sera was real, was what she had wanted to come to her in the pleasure den.

“This is not how I… wanted,” Sera said.

Erys responded by leaning in, close, pressing a kiss to the small patch of lavender skin revealed, lips wrapping around a small bump of muscle for but a moment. Acting, perhaps, Sera could not tell, the priestess settled both her hands so that she could curl fingers around and under the hem of her knight’s trousers, uselessly tugging downwards, the fabric still thoroughly stuck in place by armor, and by the massive shaft still sheltering within. An act of someone near ****, but perhaps something not terribly out of place in the succubus’ sanctum.

Sera reached down, wrapping fingers around Erys’ hands, and carefully lifted them from where they had taken a claw-like hold, sunken in, tearing. Redirected them, instead, towards assisting with removing more of the layers that had been meant to protect, but were now, in truth, rather more an obstacle. She had assumed there would be some glorious, final battle, but understood much too late the nature of her enemy – if a succubus fought, it was because it was compelled, or as a last resort. Why fight, after all, if you can make your enemies give up, even see them pledge allegiance to you, given all the pleasures you can provide them?

Metal clattered to the ground, several times, until Sera was sufficiently free of her armor, prison, that Erys could once more turn her efforts to the hem of her trousers. Flaying the belt open, and much the same with the few buttons holding everything together, the priestess tugged downwards to reveal, only to her, the sheer mass of girthy, potent dick within. The base, enormously thick inches revealed, the gift from the goddess which Sera had never chosen to share. A wide band, shining with azure light, snaking down from the knight’s muscled core and to the root of that behemoth, a perfect place for Erys’ lips to first make contact. Following its slow swirl down, pressing kisses to every available patch of smooth skin.

“If only you had let me bless every part of you, my knight,” Erys said, voice wispy, breathy, in between kisses. “I would have made sure you were well taken care of.”

Sera did not have to pretend to breathe harder, just then. Mouth open just so, chest rising and falling, eyes half-lidded, looking down at the sight she had dreamed of, and denied herself, a hundred times over. Had she been so stupid as to never see that, perhaps, Erys had much the same desires as her? It was not unusual for an attendant priestess to become close, very close, with the knight they watched over, and, in some ways, served. How long had Erys had such desires? Was she now seeking to convince Sera of the depth of that need, through sheer enthusiasm?

With a measure of greed, Erys hands demanded, through tugging, that she be presented with more of Sera’s strong thighs. With more inches of that tree trunk of a cock. It was the hands of the priestess that worked the first straining strap keeping the monster close to one of Sera’s legs, held in check, in place, and those same fingers that allowed a measure of freedom when the wide restraint was loosened.

“Her blessing is… more than I had ever thought possible, my knight,” Erys whispered, warm breath spilling against a saliva-wet stretch of smoothly-veined skin. She leaned in, adding another kiss, one in a long succession. A hungry, and yet careful quality to each movement, as if she both worshiped at the altar of her knight’s body, and yet desired to devour, consume. And be, in turn, consumed. “I love you. All of you.”

Sera worked metal and leather off of her hands, eyes still fixated upon Erys’ efforts. Pulling, ripping the gloves away, she hesitated for a moment. Fingers hovering in the air, spread, curled so that they might perfectly fit the priestess’ head. A pregnant pause, a breath, another moment’s lingering, then she settled her hand at the back, around the side of Erys’ head. Supporting her, encouraging her efforts, holding her close.

For only a moment, Erys ceased, drawing in a breath through her nose, soft lips remaining spread just so against the hardening steel of her knight’s mammoth cockshaft. She turned her head slightly, pushing against, into the hand that covered part of her elongated ear, and curled around the back of her skull. The hand that pulsed heat, and the power that she had, at least in part, invested into it. With a hundred, a thousand whispered blessings, and prayers.

She halted for one dangerous moment, her efforts ceasing so that she might, once more, whisper a small blessing of Elune, her hands reaching around, past that monstrous shaft, finding the weight and warmth of Sera’s balls, each overfilling a palm, spilling over the edges, each welcoming the touch. The blessing.

That moment’s halt, tenderness, risk, seemed to prompt Sera to indulge in a primal urge. It was not entirely a conscious choice, but she could not stop herself from pressing forward, rolling, thrusting, just half an inch. Against Erys’ hands, and face, her huge, fat cock reaching near its full, massive girth, and length. Still held in place, just barely, by the second and final strap, Sera’s trousers having slipped down faster than the priestess’ lips could follow the glowing, infused, spiraling bands of power.

Determined, if comparatively lithe fingers dug into and worked at that final strap, and, managing to undo its buckle, let the monster go. Rising with thumping, hammering beats of Sera’s heart, pulsing with determined, brutal strength, filling out to its final, frightening size, which seemed impossible for anyone but the most generously proportioned to take. Nevertheless, Erys continued to press her lips against it. Down, around its side as it rose, her lips then trailing up along that wide cumvein at its bottom, until she came to the bottom of the massive head, rising to the tip. Smearing luminescent, thick precum against her lips, the white, thick seed infused with the same azure light as the tattoo-like markings.

Sera exhaled with some ****, steeling her mind. Her breathing continued, elevated, and again, the image of her pressed into Erys’ ass rose. Again, and again. It would be easy, in that moment, to make the priestess bow down, press her forehead to the floor, and raise her ass up. And, almost, Sera commanded that to happen. Almost.

“Knight,” said Nyxsheni, then. Her voice sultry, slow, pleasant. Just a hint of a challenge in it, enough to make one want to rise to it, though the nature of the challenge would inevitably be carnal, not martial. It pierced the veil, the din, of the entire house of pleasure, and even called Sera to attention, even with Erys’ long-desired efforts underway.

Sera’s gaze flickered towards the demon woman for a fraction of a second, and then back to Erys, whose eyes had taken on an oddly serious note. She still looked up, still pressed her lips to Sera’s broad cockhead, and still smeared the slowly pearling drops of dimly glowing seed onto her skin, but somehow also managed to nod, just so. To dispatch her knight to go and deal with the target of the mission, in a most unsual fashion. Sera breathed in, keeping her gaze locked on Erys for a moment longer. Trying, no doubt failing, to make the slightest twitches and movements of her face convey what she felt for her priestess, even as she had to turn, to go and take that most primal urge out on Nyxsheni, rather than Erys.

Turning, Sera could not help to inhale sharply. Perfect, pristine, smooth skin. Jet black hair, goat-like, curling horns at once a crown, and a place to grasp with one’s hands. Swirling eyes, full lips, an expression both intense, and yet wanting. As if the succubus wanted to eat one whole, until her lips wrapped around the base. She sat straight, more than straight, perfectly sculpted shoulders jutting out, chest pushed forward, pleasant curves of her full, heavy breasts presented in exquisite lighting. Smooth, flat stomach, just a little padding here and there. Hips flaring out, though the demon sat with legs crossed. One black-clawed, deceptively gentle-looking finger pressed against her own knee. Pink skin dimpling around it. Her tail lay on the cushioned lounging chair behind her, coiled, forked end resting.

“You are most impressive, my knight,” Nyxsheni said. “Come to me.”

Was there the slightest hint of mockery when she called Sera the same thing as Erys had? Sera breathed in, and did not have to act, once again, when she turned, yet hesitated. Stepped out of the disorderly pile of much of her armor and clothing, and then moved closer. Step by step.

“A singular specimen. Look at you,” Nyxsheni said, raising a hand, palm forward, fingers spread just so. “Come.”

Sera continued to move closer, slowly, until the succubus’ hand, held in the air, was but an inch above the slowly pulsing, massive crown of her shaft. Sank down, to land against the sensitive skin of the head, almost reverently. The final word was uttered casually, but there was a pulse of power beneath it, and Sera let out a subdued groan as her core jolted, tensed, just briefly. A thicker series of those heavy, luminescent drops of seed rolled freely from her, forming a sticky, drooping line as they continued, until they terminated in a building, stretching strand which reached for the floor, and then broke. Splattered to the ground.

“What is your name, my knight?”

“Sera,” she said.

“You may call me Mistress, Sera,” Nyxsheni said, trailing three fingers, index, middle, and ring, down the wide length of Sera’s shaft. Along its top, stroking. The succubus rose, taking a half-step closer, so that she could press those fingers against Sera’s muscled core.

Again, that pulse of power. Harder, more insistent, and yet not able to commandeer Sera’s body or senses, and so, while there was a reaction, it was one that was expected. Again, she tensed just so, and again, several of those hefty, thick drops formed, and rolled, and drooped in breaking ropes to the floor. A quantity that would have put most regular people to shame, but little other than an unimportant preamble to the real event, for Sera. Clearly, Nyxsheni had tried and failed to subdue by directly inducing an orgasm. Perhaps a succubus could make someone coil and scream with endless pleasure? Someone not brimming with power already. Sera bared her teeth, looking down at the demon.

“Most interesting. You resist, just not quite enough, my most exquisite servant. You are worthy of more than mere touch.”

Even as she spoke those words, Sera still detected repeated, rhythmic, insistent impositions of power. As if the succubus might make her body take over where magic was resisted if she merely caused a longer series of those smaller hints at orgasm. Nothing came of it, save that a single, thick strand of Sera’s potent, clear white, glowing seed pumped from her, a small jerk of movement, which splattered the rope not just over the floor, but onto the edge of the cushioned surface upon which Nyxsheni had sat until recently.

“Good,” the succubus said.

Pleasant, warm fingers stroked up along Sera’s front, and yet left no heat in their wake. The withering sensation of something, though, and it dawned on her that, perhaps, the mere touch of such a creature might be able to induce a kind of addiction. Warm, satisfying, but only for a moment. Demanding ever more, afterwards. A **** which she alone was capable of administering, thus driving even those resistant to mundane, carnal charms into her arms.

Instead, in the wake of those fingers, the lazily spiraling bands of tattooed power reacted, glowing, seeming to physically cast off light and ethereal material of some sort. Shedding the corrupting influence, perhaps? Sera did not know, but felt a storm cloud on her mind’s horizon withdrawing. She narrowed her eyes, parted her lips to breathe, and while she did not collapse in **** need, that simple reaction seemed to be enough to convince Nyxsheni that her efforts caused something. Some fragmentary effect, enough to build on.

The succubus looked up at Sera, comparatively diminutive compared to the almost eight foot tall kaldorei. Much smaller than Erys, certainly. And yet, it was not love, worship, desire, friendship that flashed in the demon’s eyes, but rather calculation. Her mannerisms remained the same, her voice as seductive, her every move and breath as intentionally sultry, only the eyes revealed that some invisible negotiation was taking place. Sera knew that she had a place in it, somehow, even if she was privy to no part of it. Heard no thoughts, only saw herself examined, appraised, appreciated. Eyes lingering here, or there, even demons apparently not immune to the charms of someone sculpted from divine clay. Contemplating, perhaps, what she could control, capture, conquer. Subdue.

Sera lost track of where she was, for a moment, as a dark, ethereal pulse compressed around her senses. Squeezed her from every possible angle. Darkened her vision, strangled her sense of smell, and built a storm of her own bloodflow and pulse in her ears, and only let up when she put down her foot. Without control, she had moved. Somewhere. To the lounging chair, where the succubus now sat. On the edge of it, legs parted so that Sera could stand between them. She had imposed herself there, without knowing, though she had so recently been firmly in her own thrall, been occupied by thoughts of Erys. The endless digging of fingers in her mind continued, but seemed to work with renewed energy, having found some chink in the armor, some way of, momentarily, taking over.

Looking down, mostly at Nyxsheni’s piercing blue eyes, Sera could not help but notice that every tattooed, spiraling, painted line glowed a powerful azure, shedding light again. Gray, black puffs of luminescent mist, each one cast off seeming to return her thoughts to her own dominion a little more. There were limits to what the magic invested into her could resist, at anyone time. A limit she had never before run up against, but now knew existed, much as the succubus had to have figured out. And yet, it seemed a battle that Sera won, inevitably, as long as it went on. Unless Nyxsheni knew some fel trick that she did not, something that fucking the demon would unleash, some vestige of power as yet untapped, untouched.

A single, steady finger pressed against the slowly pulsing head of Sera’s cock, near the rim of it, insufficient in strength to move it, but nevertheless a motion that did not signal surrender, or reverence. A kind of display of lust and hunger, perhaps, but one that seemed too steeped in self-control to be genuine. The succubus leaned down, blood red lips meeting the tip, thick, clinging drops of glowing pre-seed painting her, disappearing into her maw seemingly effortlessly. She closed her eyes, and pressed another brief kiss to that massive crown, and then a second, and a third. As if peppering kisses on a lover’s face, she went on. Pausing, then picking up again. Flooding groups of kisses, then nothing. Then a few. Urging, with each meeting of lips and weighty, broad cockhead, Sera to rise a little more to attention. Attention she would have liked Erys to draw from her, but, having gotten worked up enough, been tempted and urged on and pushed for so long, was ready to accept from others.

The tension sat in her mind, even in the closed-off, protected part of it, the same tension in her core, in her thighs, latent in her arms, asked to be released with a louder and louder voice. Less mission, less duty, and more a primal call to fuck. Were she to be teased for long enough, it would not matter who, only that she sank into someone, rammed in to the hilt, and pumped herself empty. The succubus shifted closer to the edge of the lounging chair, legs apart almost a full one-eighty degrees.

Sera’s colossal shaft had risen, slowly, under Nyxsheni’s ministrations. From the succubus having to bend down to press lips to it, to now having to drape both pinkish hands, black claws marring each finger, around its top, so as to try to hold it far enough down that she could still reach it. Diminutive, compared to a fellow night elf, it seemed difficult to comprehend how she imagined Sera’s behemoth of a cock would fit into her at all. It would be an obscene feat for Erys, and she was a mere half a foot smaller than Sera, even if also considerably less buff. The succubus was built for comfort, and pleasure. Perhaps five and a half feet, at least two less than Sera, and thin of waist. Was there even enough room between her inner thighs for Sera to place herself there, never mind begin to press inside?

“You are magnificent, Sera,” Nyxsheni said. She ran her tongue, flat, against the tip of the knight’s cockhead, as if indulgently sampling some delicacy, a fine, rarified meal. “Almost too much. Too grand. But I’m sure you won’t let yourself fail to satisfy me, hm?”

A transparent challenge, but the bluntness of the demon’s goading did not matter, in that moment. The huntress, the saber, the feral thing that lived inside Sera’s heart, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, of the minds of all kaldorei, would not sit idly at such a taunt. Invitation? She raised one hand. For a moment, Sera wanted to backhand the succubus. To seize her by a horn, and lead her to the floor, ass up, and thus prove her conquered, but she needed a surrender still more complete than that, in order to win. She needed to prove the superiority of her kind, of her goddess, and the one way to do that was to breed the self-satisfied smirk out of the succubus. So, instead, Sera extended her right index finger, running the back of it over Nyxsheni’s cheek. Pleasantly warm, and comfortable. Skin against which one could lie, and forget the world. Held, and occasionally stroked. A lie which would never be – just a promise. Conveyed by a single touch.

Sera placed her hand against Nyxsheni’s forehead, then, and pushed. The demon fell back, willingly, with a little expulsion of air as her back impacted the cushioned surface of the chair. She was already gathering herself for some new, sultry act, or sentence, but did not have the chance to carry it out, Sera’s hands finding her thighs and lifting her, pushing her further up onto the chair so that the comparatively massive kaldorei could find a place on it as well, knees on its edge for a moment. Shifting forward, just so, no longer teetering.

It turned out that much of the succubus’ presence was just that. Not illusion, exactly, but a projection of magical power that the physical did not reflect. Sera found her easy to move around, push further up onto the long, cushioned seat – halfway a bed, in truth – the demon’s butt squishing against her knees as she was navigated up further, legs settled on either side of the night elf’s chiseled torso. Smaller, soft thighs resting atop carven, densely-muscled ones. Sera’s hands settled with some finality upon Nyxsheni’s hips, not exactly imprisoning the succubus, but certainly making it clear that considerable effort and protest would be required to squirm free. No such protest forthcoming, the demon’s eyes widened, focused instead on the massively fat monster of a cock now resting heavily against her front, from crotch to sternum, rolled just slightly askew to allow room for that huge cumvein. The sheer weight of that beast would be a struggle to crawl out from under, but instead of so crawling, Nyxsheni raised slightly trembling hands to lay her fingers around the colossus, just behind the rim of the thick cockhead. Failing, completely, to envelop its girth with her hands, she could only stroke back and forth, just so.

Contrasting this feeble, physical showing was the prying, constant mental ****. Were one to watch the two, one might get the impression that a growling, aggressive kaldorei was about to have her way with a pliant, but overpowered small woman. It was not physical aggression that made Sera’s lips peel back from her teeth, revealing pointed, sharp canines, perfect for piercing skin, and tearing. Neither was it naturally bubbling, primal need that made her hands harden their grip of Nyxsheni’s perfectly sculpted, padded hips. It was the mere contact between so much skin, the feeling of a fel claw curling around her heart, a deceptively gentle hand against her lower stomach, pushing rhythmically against it, as if to make her succumb to orgasm at every possible moment. Every tattooed band glowed with piercing light, seeming, at times, to singe the demon’s skin, though one could blink and see the same area utterly perfect, once more. If anything had happened at all, the damage was regenerated instantly.

In Sera’s mind, there was not a voice, exactly, but an impulse. Something that urged her to roll her hips backwards and forwards just a few inches, but never more. To never leave her current position, just to hold the succubus, and grind against her front, forever. No consummation, only this single, domineering position.

Shaking her head, expelling a hiss of a breath, teeth parting, nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, Sera thrust forward, rammed up between the succubus’ legs, her heavy, churning balls smacking against skin. Coming to rest there, for but a few seconds, after which she withdrew. Inch by heavy, colossal inch of massive, fat cock pulled back, such that she had to both shift backwards and move the succubus forward, until, at last, that too-wide behemoth squeezed in between inviting thighs, that enormous crown finding a home, its tip against Nyxsheni’s cunt, blessed, azure-glowing beads of thick, potent seed smearing between the two, connecting them.

To maximize their contact, perhaps, to make sure that every possible inch of skin connected, could try to overpower Sera with seductive, corrupting thought, Nyxsheni moved her hands to rest atop those on her thighs. Physically giving control over to the kaldorei, even if every unwitting and witting fiber of her seemed to direct her powers to take away Sera’s authority over herself. Misting, ethereal mist seemed to flow and puff from every glowing band of blessed power.

Without warning, Sera pressed forward. Leaned in, and began to apply weight, and muscle, so as to cram herself in, to make room for herself between the succubus’ thighs, and to grind her way in further. It was a torturously slow embrace, the demon’s body seeming to adjust, to work, to accept, only slowly, unused to handling someone so thoroughly blessed. Elune’s chosen thus sank half an inch, then an inch, into Nyxsheni’s clenching, tight pussy, but did not let up. Did not relax, nor allow time to get used to her colossal girth, instead pressing onward without relenting.

Shaking one hand free of the succubus’ fingers, Sera instead moved it to her fat cockshaft, taking a hold, stroking backwards, directing herself such that the next half inch could sink in, rather than her slipping and hammering up Nyxsheni’s stomach. No such relief came to the succubus, as Sera settled in. Her sheer size forcing the small demon’s legs apart, mouth open just so, in a way that did not imply the kind of seductive control that she otherwise cloaked herself in.

“Too… fucking… much,” Nyxsheni breathed, clenched teeth peeking through her lips, before she composed herself. Rolled backwards as Sera hammered a first thrust in, burying another inch of that behemoth. Their union would be slow, and difficult, and every moment that passed an invisible battle. But, much as physical hands clawed at Sera’s skin, ethereal ones at her thoughts, every fat bead of blessed seed that now pearled from her was trapped. Would build up inside the succubus, towards an inevitable, inescapable crescendo. Already, a slight bulge was beginning to take shape on her lower stomach, one that reflected the huge, broad cockhead half buried in her, one that shimmered just the tiniest little bit with the blessed light of Elune, now sat within her.

“You are… magnificent, my knight,” Nyxsheni breathed, then, seeming to have gained a little more control of herself. “Larger than any I have… -ever- experienced.”

It was unclear whether that was an actual benefit, the succubus as comparatively small as she was, but the words were clearly meant to flatter Sera, rather than speak to any actual desires. And, despite the obscenely thick girth, Nyxsheni’s struggling, stretching tightness, her nature seemed nevertheless to make her enjoy what was happening. A kind of imposition of her nature upon her senses, perhaps, as she both grit her teeth, and yet exhaled shuddering breaths that signaled that, as much of a struggle as taking Sera might be, the mere act of it caused her some brutal, irresistible pleasure.

Sera’s response was wordless. A brief halt in forward momentum as she secured a tighter grip of Nyxsheni’s hips, first one side, then the other, allowing her to hold the succubus up, hovering well over the surface of the cushioned surface on which her shoulders and head rested. Pink, pale, seemingly delicate skin compressed beneath lavender fingers, but rose closer to her core, as Sera thrust forward against. Hammering another inch in, building that bump from no more than a wide, slight indication of the monstrous presence within, to a slight hill. Another staccato, hard thrust, and then another, and it was a full, fist-sized bump, filling out, growing for every passing moment, for every powerful thrust. Smoothly-veined, silken-skinned, brutally hard cock pistoned in. In. Again.

A brief halt, then, as Sera adjusted her position, shifting forward as she tugged the succubus closer to her, using that crushing grip to meet the merciless, forward push of her body, weight put behind it, grinding that mammoth cockshaft in continuously, slowly, inch upon fat inch disappearing, stretching, overfilling the small body of her demon partner. That cockbulge pressing further up her stomach, wide enough that it met the fingers that slowly moved up towards Nyxsheni’s waist.

Not with a slam-fucking thrust, but with growling, slow conquest, Sera came to meet the succubus’ cervix, pushing a sloshing, thickly-flowing pool of potent seed before her, smearing the sticky substance between the two. Coming on, still, not a battering ram, but an inexorable invader. A continuous press of conquering, colossal cock, a tide flowing only ever in one direction. Sooner or later, she would win, break through.

In that moment of meeting between massive, broad cock-crown and inner wall, the succubus’ eyes opened wide, her luminous eyes flickering here and there, and then settling upon the enormous, thick bulge pressing up her stomach. Shifted her hands from Sera’s skin, to her own, pressing down against it. Adding clenching, gripping, slowly pulsing tightness to what already was, seemingly pushed beyond reason for a moment. Exhaling in small, high-pitched bursts, fingers turning claw-like.

A quiet shivering began in those fingers, rolling up her arms, to her shoulders. Deepening the red tinge to her otherwise pinkish skin as it pushed down her full chest, to her stomach. To her thighs, which clenched, and quaked. Eyes rolling up for a long moment. Eternal, almost, as it seemed that Sera had found the single thing which could lessen a succubus’ focus on her seductive efforts. And so, as Nyxsheni shook with orgasm, Sera pressed forward harder. Cruelly. Added small, ineffective thrusts, made not to take more ground, merely to apply further, little bursts of pressure against what seemed to be the demon’s weakness.

Sera felt, then, an encouraging hand on the back of her thigh. Did not have the energy to try to twist and see who it was, but soon realized, as a reverent hand curled around the bottom curve of one of her enormous, fully laden balls, lips pressed to its back, prayers whispered. The hand against the back of her thigh, though it could do little to really affect what was happening, nevertheless pushed for her to continue to press forward. Slowly, inexorably.

“I love you, my knight,” Erys whispered. Lips moving against one weighty nut.

Not the succubus’ endless efforts, but Erys’, caused the first real, singular, crushingly powerful rope of sweltering seed. Sera’s core clenched, almost as if responding to her priestess’ declaration, contracting, tensing, forcing that more than thumb-thick, continuous, fat load to thunder down that cumvein, pounding directly against Nyxsheni’s cervix, splattering, filling what little room remained within her with the glowing, potent mess. Immediately, through pink skin, next to the faint light from the tattooed length rammed into the succubus, the luminous seed flowed everywhere, and marked the beginning conquest. Nyxsheni’s hands scrabbled against the glow emanating from within her, seeming not in pain, but nevertheless trying to extinguish it merely by covering it with her hands.

A fool’s effort, as Sera’s brutal, continuous, grinding pressure claimed that final guard, forcing the succubus’ cervix to begin to slip open, across that massively thick cock-crown, losing little by little, inches slipping in, until it clamped shut behind the rim, each movement having sent another quake through Nyxsheni’s struggling form. Mouth agape, twitching with overstimulation, with pleasure, eyelids jittery, breathing irregular and bursty when it came. Her hands still clutching at that enormous bulge, sinking now, again, ever deeper into her slim frame.

With another whispered confession to Sera’s balls, another crack of lightning, white-hot, too strong to immediately resolve into pleasure, Erys’ desire struck Sera hard. Her chest and abs rising and falling fast, her breathing near as strained yet superficial as the succubus’, realizing how deeply in the grip of her priestess she was. Her core clamped down, and shook again. Quaking once, hammering pleasure into her senses, into her mind, sweeping aside the feeble, spectral fingers still there. Clinging, holding on, more than digging. Another colossal load slammed down the length of her behemoth cock, blessed, molten swimmers pounding into the succubus’ core, splattering into her womb. A second, equally powerful rope joined the first, and the light from the demon’s skin increased. As did her pleading, whimpering sounds of pleasure.

“Bottom out,” Erys whispered, before planting another light kiss against one of Sera’s balls. A gentle hand beneath it, raising it just so, as one might lift the chin of a lover. “My knight.”

Sera allowed a few seconds to pass by without more movement and pressure than she already laid into the small demon’s form, and then responded to the command given. A singular, hard thrust, burying three inches of mammoth cock, withdrawing one, then pumping another three in. Again. And then again, finding herself, then, with thighs smacking against the squirming demon’s own. Held in to the hilt, balls resting against Nyxsheni’s ass and the cushioned lounging chair, that faintly glowing, thick cockbulge at its fullest possible extent. The succubus’ hands and arms shook, her entire body trembling, clamping down rhythmically around the blessed, massive dick within her.

“Should I… boast, back with the order, that I made a succubus cum?” Sera spoke between hard breaths to no one in particular, though she imagined Erys would hear her. She moved one hand to the long, fat distension upon Nyxsheni’s front, applying just a little downward pressure to it, the other curled around the demon’s hip-joint, holding her in place. Leaned forward, she subdued the small succubus’ form through weight of muscle, through that obscenely blessed, unspeakable girth, hammered in to the final, fattest, languidly pulsing inch.

Instead of responding to her knight’s musings, Erys pressed another long, ardent kiss to Sera’s balls, having shifted forward enough that she could once again properly reach them. A whispered blessing, rather than an answer, came. The comparatively delicate hand on the back of the large warrior’s thigh only ever urging her to grind and piston herself deeper, as were Nyxsheni’s conquerable depths endless. The blessed light of Elune flowed from Erys’ lips into Sera, supplanting through her skin and those coiling bands of power into her core, where it once again clamped down. Caused her to grit her teeth, emitting a strained, grinding gasp, her abs standing clearly defined as her body flexed, all that musculature devoted to the singular task of pounding a colossal, thick rope of seed down through that massive cumvein, pumping past cervix, into the **** core of the succubus.

An enormous load, building upon those already present, such that Nyxsheni’s belly began to develop pleasantly curving slopes to build up to the height of the cockbulge upon her front, her skin shining just a little stronger. Not pink, nor the green of fel magic, but the pure, azure-white of the goddess of the kaldorei.

“Boast when you have made her climax thrice, my knight,” Erys said, shifting backwards and aside, though she remained sat on the floor near Sera’s thigh. She had merely gotten out of the way of the no doubt soon to come violent backwards and forwards movement, but kept one gentle hand, fingers spread, upon her knight’s thigh. “Boast when you have conquered her.”

“You... wish me to?”

“I wish to see you demonstrate just how worthy you are of me, my knight,” Erys said. A wry, lopsided smile curving her lips as she looked up, and met Sera’s eyes, the warrior having briefly turned to be able to see her priestess. “Fuck her. Hard. She wants you to. She would tell you, if she could speak.”

Sera pressed her tongue out past her lips, running it over them. Without shame, for once, her eyes took in Erys, and though she was buried to the absolute hilt in the succubus, her mind traveled to that same dream-like little refuge she had built. In which she slowly pressed herself into Erys’ ass, until hilted. Her ultimate devotion so placed and centered in her mind, she turned her attention back to Nyxsheni. The demon’s half-lidded eyes, still seeming inattentive from the hard, irresistible waves of pleasure, laid trembling fingers upon herself. Upon the colossal bulge of her stomach, wisps of ethereal, azure power seeming to mist from her skin. For a moment, disbelief settled in her eyes, and it seemed as if she was going to say something.

Whatever her words might have been, they were never uttered. Sera pulled back, slowly, freeing herself from close contact with the succubus’ thighs, presenting one, then two, then three enormously thick inches of cock to the world, once more, then leaning back in. Not quite thrusting, but forcing herself back into her seat with some speed, causing some clinging, fat drops of seed to fight their way free around that colossal, girthy shaft. Glowing, sweltering, trapped between their two bodies, they first smushed into a sticky coating, but then rebuilt into increasingly droopy strands, as Sera withdrew once more. Connected to Nyxsheni’s form with those luminescent ropes, more of her blessedly fat cum splurting out around the massive base of her dick the deeper she pressed in, until, for a second time, she bottomed out in the demon’s womb.

A strained, slow breath escaped her, one of many, as Sera crammed herself in again, crushing herself into Nyxsheni so completely that the demon, despite being held in place by hip and stomach, still slipped a little further up onto the lounging chair. As Sera withdrew, three, then four, then five inches, she pulled the succubus with her, insisting upon her being unable to flee, in any way. When she pushed herself back in, once again, it was with greater strength, still. A mere second until she once more hilted that monster in Nyxsheni’s tight, clenching cunt, a motion repeated as she withdrew again, adding just one more inch, pressing herself in, completely, again. And again. Holding for just a fraction of a second, then withdrawing, hammering back in, holding. A cruel, hard rhythm, one made to maximize the impact of skin and muscle and huge, heavy balls against the demon’s body.

That hard rhythm established, growing only ever more brutal as Sera kept adding just another half inch, an inch, a little more, and more, and more, to every thrust, she felt Erys’ hand upon her thigh, again, sneaking up, and around, taking a firmer hold. Urging, pushing her in, when she rammed forward, and easing off when she pulled back.

Another crushing impact, resettling Nyxsheni once again, her form shaking, breasts shifting, fingers trembling and then scrabbling for purchase against the hand that still rested atop the moving, fat cockbulge on her stomach, her eyes rolled once more. Lips falling open, partially. Sera piston-fucked three more staccato, hard thrusts into the convulsing succubus, and then held herself in, bottomed out, feeling once more how Erys’ hand encouraged her to do just that. Another jolt of energy, prompted by a whispered prayer, and so Sera’s core contracted once more. Into steel. Clamping down, pumping another massive, potent load of swimmers into Nyxsheni’s depths, building that beginning dome of seed just a little more.

It had an unexpected effect. As if some saturation point had been reached with the next overflowing, massive load, at which its gathered power asserted itself. Not just in the increasingly strong glow of the succubus’ cum-bloating stomach, but now, more so, in the rest of her. In the faltering pressure upon Sera’s mind, in the slowly shifting hue of those upturned eyes, lightening. In the atmosphere of the debauched den. Slowly lifting, growing more free, for every helpless, rhythmic contraction of muscle, for every bursting of pleasure that seemed to leave Nyxsheni helpless. And yet, beneath her struggling breaths, her tensing muscle, a little babble of words could be made out.

“Please. Please. Please. Fuck me. Please. Keep going. Keep going. Please.” Quietly, interrupted with every orgasmic, rolling, coiling moment of pleasure, but always picked up again. Always continuing on, close to incoherent, but insistent nevertheless.

Sera languidly gyrated against the succubus, mercilessly grinding herself into, against, that tight cunt. Allowing Nyxsheni to ride her orgasm to completion, before beginning the journey towards the next. Done with the gradual, deep conquest, building up to thrusts, the knight instead withdrew well over ten inches of that colossal, fat dick, hovering for but a moment, shifting backwards, slowly, until she felt once more the crushing grip of the succubus’ cervix around the ridge of that enormous cock-crown. Having found the limit to which she would pull back, she brutally hammered her pelvis forward, growling as she found the full depth of the succubus once more, smacking against thighs, against ass, as she bottomed out. Withdrawing, and then slam-fucking herself back in, to the very last fraction of an inch, Nyxsheni’s body shaking with each impact.

The almost frighteningly steady pace, long-honed bio-machinery engaged to piston Sera’s immensely thick, slowly throbbing behemoth of a cock in, and out, was established. Sera resettled her hands, once more taking a full, vice-like grip of the succubus’ hips, employing it to pull her down to meet each brutal, oncoming thrust, the **** such that she bounced off just a little, before being dragged all the way onto that enormously thick monster’s root, only to then face the next thrust. And the next, and the next, gasping, high-pitched breaths escaping the succubus, her demonic composure entirely forgotten, her body shaking with each impact, her fingers reached down not for that full, fat cockbulge, but instead to lay gently atop the strong hands that captured her hips. Moving, then, down between her inner thighs. Fingertips meeting Sera’s steel-hard core, caressing abs, as she bottomed out yet again. Over, and over, and over again, pounding, plowing the faltering demon into the surface upon which she lay. Heedless of the ever-growing, thick mess of potent, blessed seed between their bodies, connecting them, strands lengthening, breaking, dripping each time Sera pulled back, only for more of that precious cum to be **** out at the next hilting, building new drooping strands.

Something almost a cry parted the succubus’ lips, her body still moving at Sera’s behest, quaking with the impact of each thrust, pulled back into place so that she could receive the next. Her fingers clawed, curled against her own thighs, her ailing muscles flexing, tensing around the brutal conqueror hammering into her, trying to lock down around it. Failing, but going on, an orgasm so powerful that tears welled from Nyxsheni’s increasingly azure-glowing eyes, a sound both moan and sob escaping her at each deep, hilting thrust.

That rhythmic tightening placed inevitable, increased strain on Sera, her body already pearling with the occasional bead of sweat, a sheen of it forming upon her as she labored so long to bring herself to completion. She did not even have to begin to flex, to coax, finding that the succubus did it for her, bodily calling upon her to finish. To empty herself.

At her side, then, was Erys. Standing, hand still upon that densely-muscled thigh, but up on her toes to press a kiss to Sera’s cheek.

“I love you, my knight,” she whispered.

The priestess sank down again, then, on her knees. Closer, much closer, as Sera’s demanding, merciless thrusts grew shorter, and shorter, breaths snapping more and more. Pumping but a handful of inches in, and out, and then only three. Two. Pushing herself in to the base of that monstrous, girthy colossus. Pulling back one final time, ramming herself in. And in that precise moment, Erys palms once more found her rising, huge, churning balls. Once more pressed her lips to one impressive orb, spilling over the edges of her palm, too grand to contain in so simple a manner.

Sera’s every muscle strained, and tensed. Released for but a moment, and then clamped down again, near painfully. Every feral urging she had ever felt rose, and bid her do but one thing. Bottom out. Stay in, as deep as she could go. Fulfill the most primal duty possible, and so she did. Crushing strength and weight holding Nyxsheni in place, holding her down, allowing no escape. A single, momentary relaxation came, and then the chiseled, statuesque knight let out a straining, almost groaning breath. It accompanied a first, brutal quake of muscle, allowing a more than thumb-thick, continuous rope of luminous, molten, copious seed to hammer down that cumvein, pumping into the succubus depths with bruising ****.

A second strenuous breath accompanied the second, colossal load, Sera’s already massively thick shaft growing just a fraction of an inch thicker, responding to her climax. To the need to make room for each enormous, sweltering load of cum, each of those thick strands followed along by a kiss to one of her tensing, hefty nuts. Followed along by ****, demonic fingertips against her muscled core.

Nyxsheni’s stomach rose just a little in response to that first, true load, building upon what had already been pounded, pumped into her defenseless womb. It rose, just so, in response to each rope, rhythmically rising until the building dome eclipsed the distension formed around Sera’s behemoth of a shaft, drowning even that monster out, and yet still rising. Load, upon load, upon huge, swelling load, making of the succubus’ womb a kind of domed, azure-glowing lantern, a testament to the power of the knight of Elune she sought to subvert.

Every hint of the foul presence that had lingered in the tavern had receded. No more fingers dug into Sera’s mind, and, indeed, Nyxsheni’s skin, though still pink, had grown paler. Taken on some hint of a white-blue shine. Her eyes had taken on an azure hue, and the aura of self-satisfied, sultry invincibility which had cloaked her had melted away, at least partially.

Sera rose against the succubus, urged on yet more strenuously by a hand on her back, pushing her to make absolutely certain that every single possible inch of that behemoth was buried. Adding some measure of control which she, in that moment, did not have. Clamping, hard muscle near strangled every explosive, coiling burst of pleasure, until, in brief, glorious moments, they blossomed and spread and tingled through every muscle. Sera’s fingers curled, nails digging in just so, her breathing momentarily ceasing in between brutal quakes of flexing muscle, so that she pounded one, then two, then three colossal, extended ropes of potent, conquering seed into Nyxsheni’s depths, and only then found the room to breathe. Letting a single, straining gasp go, hauling in a great breath, only for the entire thing to repeat.

The succubus’ tight, clenching cunt seemed to close around her, and, once more, Nyxsheni let go an ailing, high-pitched breath, one that tilted over into almost **** moans, as if she was entirely unused to pleasure she could not control. Again, and again, as Sera hammered those molten, splattering loads into the demon’s womb, she came.

At some point, Sera was not entirely sure when, Erys’ lips had ceased to offer a kiss for each swelling load, but had instead found a home, settled against one of those massive balls. Letting sinful affection mix with the power of the goddess, through prayers muffled by that hefty, churning nut, each pumping, thick strand of jizz so twice-blessed.

The world around Sera had collapsed into something very small, for a long while. She had paid no attention to the seduced onlookers, to anything around her, seeing without sensing anything except her priestess below, and the succubus before her. As loads thundering through that monster of a cock slowed, and then became a mere, occasional jerk of muscle, leaving her free to breathe, and sweat, and laugh from the release of tension for just a moment, she finally realized that the tavern had changed around their little cluster of bodies connected.

Where once had been a heavy, oppressive atmosphere of lust, of bodies, of indulgence in one-another and in every pleasure possible in such a remote place, there was now a lightness of feeling. The real world, in its myriad cruelties and kindnesses, had asserted itself. Gradually. The people of the tavern coming to, finding discarded clothes, waking from stupor induced by fel magic, and drink, and smoke. Now, it seemed, the only being in the tavern affected was Nyxsheni, who still shivered. Who looked up at the ceiling, seeming to see nothing, breathing fast, and shallow, fingers still settled against Sera’s lower stomach, against the chiseled muscle there.

In the precise moment where Sera leaned back subtly, just enough that she was no longer in danger of crushing Nyxsheni’s pelvis, carefully so as to not unceremoniously drag her balls across Erys’ face, the succubus let out a pleasant sigh. There was a finality to that breath, and, but a heartbeat later, white-blue, glowing bands and runes of light, immaterial and yet present, began to grow on her skin. No longer a hint of the acrid, sulfurous fel-smoke scent clung to her, her power instead seeming to grow from the titanic, divine dome of Elune-blessed seed within her womb.

“I did not think… I would find something, someone, worthy of my service,” Nyxsheni said, closing her eyes, her parted lips still curling in an entirely natural, uncalculated, deeply satisfied smile. “But I pledge myself to you, knight. I turn from the rudderless remnants of the Burning Legion, and instead make you, and your blessed, massive cock, my center.”

Due to her position, it was impossible for Sera to try to look down at and catch Erys’ eyes. So, instead, of answering directly, Sera pulled two inches of that behemoth back, out, and then plowed it back in, to which Nyxsheni gasped, and spoke a most surprising word of seemingly deep-felt pleasure.

“Goddess.”

Sera withdrew again, a little more, just a fraction, before grinding back in. A little more out than in, though, and so, slowly, she rolled and thrust herself out, rather than in, allowing Erys to shift with her for a little while, and then, eventually, shuffled aside, still keeping a hand upon one strong thigh. And so, allowing Sera to cast a worried glance at her priestess.

“You wonder whether I approve, my knight?”

“I do,” Sera said.

“My desire for you is unchanged, and at the first opportunity, I want us to act on it. Do you, too?”

“Very much, priestess.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about. I love you, my knight, and have for years. She merely lusts for you,” Erys said.

“That does not bother you?”

“What you give to me, I will repay twicefold. Perhaps we will be able to please you more than twicefold, together, hm?”

Rather than answering, at least in that moment, Sera focused upon pulling out. Dragging her monster of a cock from Nyxsheni’s conquered, still tight pussy, until she pulled that broad, still slowly pulsing cockhead free, allowing the final, fat beads of cum to leak against the succubus’ skin.

Slowly, with trembling arms, Nyxsheni pushed herself from the surface of the lounging chair, hands soon finding the heavy, bloated dome of her stomach, but nevertheless staggering to her feet. Not to worship, at least not in that moment, but rather stand, and to move past the two, knight and priestess, towards the pile of Sera’s armor and clothes. There, next to it, the succubus found the warrior’s elaborate helmet, which she picked from the ground with some difficulty. One hand wrapped around the dense, slowly sloshing and wobbling, colossal bulge, the other reaching for one eye slit of the helmet, lifting it by that.

Nyxsheni turned, then, to face the two. The priestess, still kneeling, still with a possessive hand on the back of one of the knight’s thighs, looking over her shoulder. Sera, body facing away from the succubus, but likewise looking over her shoulder. Every inch of her statuesque, chiseled form still on display, perfectly silhouetted in the low light.

Moving towards the two, Nyxsheni extended the helmet, bowing her head.

“My knight.”

#

Erys, for the first long while, preferred that the trio begin making its way back to the order, but neither Sera nor Nyxsheni shared her enthusiasm. Sera, it seemed, had well and truly worn out the previously-thought bottomless well of resolve and loyalty, and though Erys was dissatisfied for a short while, her feelings on the matter slipped into the background as the three found their place on the road. Moving at night, as the kaldorei preferred, halting with the sunrise to enjoy each other – to enjoy Sera – and then to sleep.

Rising in the late afternoons, lazily, they would once again ensure that Sera had pumped herself utterly empty before setting off westwards. Their destination was the Zoram Strand, where Sera and Erys spent the evenings watching the moon rise over the ocean, together, for weeks. Gradually rebuilding the will to fight, together.