The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rella

Dust flew through air as the stack of books in Rella’s arms tumbled over the desk.

“Goodness,” whispered the young woman. She looked around the private study room in the library but didn’t spot any of the dryads that roamed around to help people. She pulled her veil aside and carefully coughed into her fist before putting the veil back in place. Then she quickly went about picking up and re-stacking the four thick tomes she brought with her: Maloth and Azora, The Twin’s War, The Age of Darkness, and In Defense of Chastity. She had been through these books before, but her research was coming up short. She didn’t want to disappoint Iriel and admit that no one had done much work in recording the workings or worship of Maloth. Neither did she want to admit the other possibility: that someone had destroyed all those books.

“Are you alright?” sang a voice from behind her.

Rella spun and caught sight of one of Iriel’s liberated dryads. She was conscientious of keeping her eyes up, looking straight into the nymph’s eyes. Her skin was a pale and sickly green — especially in contrast with her shining verdant eyes — and her hair was a lush and wavy red.

“Um, yes. Quite alright.” Rella swallowed and turned back to her books. “Just dropped a few books.”

“Are they alright?” The dryad stepped closer and put her hand on Rella’s shoulder. The acolyte shrugged a shoulder unconsciously and let the hand fall away.

“The books are fine. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Is there any other way I can service you?”

“Sweet Dawn,” whispered Rella. “No. Thank you. Good day.”

“Good day.” The nymph walked away, and Rella waited until the sound of leaves gently swaying and the smell of the sickly sweet perfume faded before relaxing. It didn’t matter how right Iriel was in freeing the nymphs, they made Rella uncomfortable.

“Forgive me for my unbelief,” prayed the girl. This was a new area for her repentance, and all repentance would lead her closer to the goddess.

Rella focused on cleaning the dust with a cloth especially made for doing so. It was a little ritual that helped her focus on why she was doing this. She entered the darkness in service of the light. If she started pure, she was more likely to end pure. She had the blessing of the High Priestess of Azora. No befoulment would corrupt her here, in the Abbey of Azora. She was more faithful than any of the other acolytes. They had forgotten the heritage of the full veil, of hiding their body from the eyes of any but Azora. Instead they walked freely among the filthy dryads — free though they may be — and Rella saw the way her sisters’ eyes lingered on the bodies of the dryads. The Abbey was sick with the temptation of debauchery, but Rella would not crumble. She would find the answers in these dark times and save them all.

As she cleaned, Rella found a wrinkled piece of paper shoved into one corner. She didn’t recognize it and unfolded it carefully. It read, “I hope you find the text I sent you helpful. Please be careful with them.—Arabo.”

Rella gasped. She had sent a message to Arabo the Mind Mage weeks ago for a text on Maloth. He was an Arbiter of Archives and Mass Memory. If anyone could find a secret in all of creation, it would be him. But his book had never arrived, so how did she have his note? And here, crumpled in the corner of her desk?

Rella rose and stormed out of her study nook, heading to the front desk of the archives. There, a dryad sat with her long legs up on the desk, laughing and chatting with another dryad bent over suggestively.

Rella lifted her eyes up to the cavern ceiling. In the eyes of Azora, judgement was as foul as licentiousness. Rella cleared her throat and slowly lowered her eyes to rest firmly at eye level with the dryad not bent over like a slut.

Forgive me, thought Rella.

The dryads ignored her, so Rella stepped up closer, her thick thigh pressing against the desk. There’s no way they could ignore her in a heavy white veil that covered her head to toe.

“Excuse me?” she whispered.

“Then I showed her that you can thicken and strengthen a vine until it’s more like a branch,” said the dryad to the other. They both laughed, and Rella’s cheeks warmed with shame and embarrassment.

“Excuse me!” she snapped.

The dryad behind the desk lazily turned to look at Rella. “Yes?”

“I placed an order from Arabo the Mind Mage in Oraster a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah?”

“I have reason to believe my order has arrived. Can you check please?”

“Right away,” said the dryad. She bent down to search through something, and as Rella’s eyes followed her, they accidentally drank in the curves of both nymphs. They only had leaves to cover the absolute bare minimum of flesh: in this case it was nipples. It was worse than nudity in Rella’s opinion, and her eyes darted back up the ceiling as she prayed over and over for forgiveness.

This is the problem with sluts, thought Rella. They make sinners out of all that behold them.

Then she prayed for forgiveness again, for judging the nymphs. But before she could get through her seventh Azora’s Hymn, the dryad pulled up a thick book and slammed it on the desk without any care for how ancient they were.

“This it?” she asked.

Rella looked down, making sure to keep her eyes away from the dryad’s chest only to catch sight of the bare bottom of the dryad bent over. Dawn, forgive me, she thought as she finally beheld the text on the desk.

She gasped and almost stepped back when she saw the cover of the book. It was the correct title — The Rites of Debauchery — but this book had artwork on the cover. And such artwork! Two women had a third bound to a table. All of them were nude. One woman had a flail, and the woman on the table had red welts and stripes all along her back. The other woman had something strapped between her legs and was preparing to … to …

Rella couldn’t think it. The warmth that flooded her cheeks spread down her neck and over the rest of her body. Goosebumps spread everywhere, and her fingers tingled with a supernatural cold. This book was evil. She was surer of it than of anything else in her life. Perhaps she was even more sure of this book’s evil than Azora’s goodness.

“Beautiful artwork,” said one dryad as she ran her hand over the cover.

“Don’t touch it,” hissed Rella. “Did it come with a cloth for protection?”

“Let me check.”

The dryad looked for the cloth, but the other one ran a lazy finger around the book. “That looks fun,” she whispered. “What do you think, sister?”

“I’m not your sister,” muttered Rella.

“What’s this book about?” The dryad tried to open the book, but Rella stepped forward and slapped her hand away.

“Do not touch!”

The dryad cried out — maybe it was a moan — and pulled her hand away. Rella stepped forward and grabbed the book, lifting it protectively to her chest. “I have signed a blood contract with Arabo to make sure that no one else opens this book. There is foul evil in here that must be safeguarded by someone pure.”

The dryad bent over the desk flicked her eyes at her, amused. “Is that you?”

Rella gulped as she brought her eyes back to the dryad’s eyes. Forgive me, she prayed again.

“It’s what I strive to be,” said Rella.

“Sorry,” said the other dryad. She lifted a box and put it on the table. “I don’t see a cloth.”

“Why is that open?” said Rella. “Did anyone give you permission to open my box?”

“I didn’t open it,” said the dryad defensively. “It was like that and waiting here for you.”

“Alright.” Rella swallowed again. She was thirsty and the lighting in this room was terrible. Everything was blurry and dim. “I’ll be in my nook. I am not to be disturbed.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us in there with you?” said the dryad next to Rella. She stood and placed her hand on Rella’s shoulder. Rella stepped away. “It it’s so evil, you should have accountability.”

“No thank you,” said Rella, taking another step back, holding the abominable book tighter against her chest.

“Is there any other way we can service you?” asked the dryad behind the desk.

“Ensure my privacy. That’s all,” said Rella. Without another word from the harlots — Dawn forgive me — she turned and almost jogged back to her nook. She closed the door behind her and lifted her veil for a moment, trying to catch her breath and cool down. It was so hot in the library today. She needed to feel cool air against her face.

Rella placed the book down on her desk, but when she saw the cover, she flipped it over. There were no images on the other side, and she knelt down, bowed her head, and began to pray. This happened from time to time as she did her research for Iriel. She must be a pure vessel before she goes into the darkness. There must not be a shred of sin in her. In order to abolish the darkness, she must repent. She must confess her sins of judgement, roaming eyes, pride, and overt curiosity. Only Azora could make her clean. Azora and Iriel. They were the only ones fit to do this kind of work, to be consumed by the darkness and still remain themselves, but they had asked Rella to join their sisterhood, and she would do her best.

She must do her best.

After an hour of prayer and twenty Hallow Mother’s, Rella stood and sat in her chair in front of the demonic book. She flipped it over, but her eyes didn’t linger on the cover. Smoothly and cleanly, she opened the book and flipped through the pages. It was almost anything she’d ever read. There were no page numbers or tables of context. Some pages were papyrus, but some were a thick vellum. The book was bound carefully, but it wasn’t organized very well. It was more of a collection of essays and artwork than a comprehensive argument or revelation. Rella would have to read this dozens of times and take notes on it, perhaps creating an organizational system herself.

But as she read, any notion of an organizational system abandoned her mind. Everything was replaced with shock and horror. There were words that made Rella blush with shame and her skin heat with embarrassment: vagina, orgy, oral, anal. People back home talked about words like these, but Rella came to the Abbey to escape this kind of barbaric thinking. But then there were words Rella had never read before: sodomy, lesbian, incest, sadism, and masochism. She used context clues where she could, but when that failed her, she was forced to look at the pictures that accompanied these passages.

More than once she turned away from the book and fell to her knees, begging Azora for forgiveness. She begged for purity and fortitude. She burned with hatred for Maloth, and the horrible ways this goddess used and perverted her servants. Maloth promised pleasure, but in these pages Rella found plenty of pain. She found desecration. She found filth and corruption. There was no way around it. The artwork revealed the truth of it if nothing else. Some of those depicted were in euphoric states, but there was pain etched in the faces of those that had Maloth forced upon them. Women dangled from ceilings while their nipples were tortured. Other women were splayed and forced to pleasure other older, stronger women. Forced.

Forced.

For every creature that received pleasure from worshipping Maloth, someone else lost their pleasure. Someone else got pain. There was a perfect balance to it all — one that Azora created — and even acts of debauchery were subject to that symmetry. No one could receive pleasure without taking it from another. Pleasure was predatory.

Nowhere was this clearer than the depiction of anal sex between two women. The sinister nature of it captivated Rella. Women were creatures of healing and service. Azora made them to nurture and take care of others. They were the prey, and men were the predators. Why else would Rella wear a veil? It was an outward display of her inner vow of chastity, but it was also protection from the leers of men. It protected them from sinning, and it protected her from their urges. All were served in a woman’s chastity, but why would two women ever break that?

Why would they break it with each other?

And yet, one woman was so lost in the worship of Maloth that she had strapped a sculpted phallus to her hips, above the temple of her womanhood. She stood behind the other woman, and instead of replicating the sacred act between a husband and a wife, she inserted the phallus into the woman’s anus. Rella could only imagine the woman thrusting while the other cried out in pain. She could only imagine their cries out to Maloth as one woman preyed upon the other.

But where was the pleasure in it?

Maloth claimed to be a goddess of pleasure — though in reality she was a goddess of evil. This act proved it more than any other. There was no pleasure in it. The predator could not feel the thrust of her phallus. The prey felt no pleasure as the other sodomized her. It was an act of torment, and that is what made it entirely of Maloth. Who would ever feel tempted by this? Who would commit herself to a lifetime of suffering?

Rella ran her hands over the artwork, trying to understand the woman being sodomized. She wished for so much better for this girl. She didn’t deserve to serve darkness. She deserved happiness and pleasure. She deserved light. She deserved Azora.

“Here again?” The voice behind Rella was discordant and hissing, like multiple people talking over a grating metal.

Rella spun around and burned with shame as she realized what she had been looking at. At what she had been touching. At what she had been feeling.

But the shame was gone as soon as she beheld the monstrosity in front of her. It had the shape of a woman but had two horns and thick purple hair. It’s skin was dark pink and glistened as though made of wax. It was naked, but an intricate pattern of black scales or a black tattoo like lace wound over her body and covered everything except her bare chest. There, on black nipples, were bright purple circular piercings that glowed faintly in the dim study nook. A tail flickered behind her, and her feet were hoofed.

Before the beast could say another word, Rella stood up and prayed. Spells of warding and protection wrapped around her. White and golden light flooded the chamber as Rella felt the power and delight of her goddess flood her. Azora was with her and would let no harm come to her. With a flick of her wrist, white chains lashed out and wrapped around the demon. They slithered over her bare and licentious body, latching in place as the spell took hold.

The demon looked down at the chains wrapped around them and shrugged. “Does that mean you don’t want to play today?” Again, as they spoke, something was wrong with their voice. It felt like a choir of sirens trying to lure Rella to her demise, but the goddess was with her.

“Get thee gone, demon.”

“Awww,” said the beast. She shrugged her shoulders, and the shackles fell harmless from her. “But we were looking forward to unwrapping our present.”

Rella’s mouth went dry as the demon stepped forward easily. Rella tried to move, to scream, to run, to pray, to cast a spell, but she stood still — trapped in her own fear — as the monster stalked towards her. She placed a hand casually on Rella’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in the girl’s ear: “Aren’t you curious as to how we know about the birthmark on your side?”

Rella shivered but not from the words. Her body sagged with heaviness as the same sickly sweet scent of the dryads filled her nostrils. Once more the study nook felt too dark, too blurry, and too hot all at once.

“Come,” commanded the demon. She turned and walked out of the study nook, slipping around the corner as her tail twitched happily.

Rella’s body followed, abandoning the abominable book as it trailed after a true abomination. They walked past lazy dryads as they left the library. One was sprawled out on the desk, her legs wide. The other was licking her vagina. Both were moaning.

Or maybe it was an image from the book. A memory.

Rella shook her head. She knew magic was ruling her body, but she had to ensure it didn’t corrupt her mind. She closed her eyes, but her body still moved and obeyed the whims of the beast. But with her eyes closed, she could try to find solace with Azora. She could pray and ask for forgiveness. Perhaps this was another Penance. Perhaps Azora was testing her or punishing her for leering at the dryads. No. Not leering. Looking. She was just looking. She would never leer at them.

As they walked, Rella also prayed that someone would stop them, that there would be an end to the madness as a demon walked through the Abbey, but there was nothing. Ever since Orilana withdrew from the Abbey, there were less people walking about. Most people stayed in their rooms with their friends, praying. Rella stuck to her studies. She had no time for the politics in the Abbey, but now she wished that Orilana would get over her issue with Iriel so a paladin could save Rella from the darkness.

Rella opened her eyes when the air around her changed. It was hot, thick, and harder to breathe. She was in a chamber, but the stone ceiling and floor told her she was still in the Abbey. Though she didn’t think there were chambers in the Abbey this large besides Iriel’s. Yet, her eyes couldn’t focus on the trappings of the room. She got the vague impression of the large bed and the door that led to a washroom. But none of that held her attention as the demon moved through a crowd of five naked women. They flocked to the creature and fawned over her, calling her Mistress and Melior, begging to serve her or to join her. As they ran their hands over the demon, Rella caught sight of purple circular nipple piercings that glowed faintly like the ones on the beast. Perhaps that was how it was controlling them.

Melior flicked her wrist and the women stepped back like flies. They muttered apologies and moved to the edge of the room. Melior kept her eyes locked onto Rella. She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs spread and posture upright. This was her chamber. She ruled here. She had subjugated these acolytes and was spreading corruption throughout the Abbey.

Realization struck Rella too late: she found the source of the debauchery. This was a servant of Maloth in the heart of the Abbey.

Rella tested the magic binding her and found she still couldn’t move. “What do you want from me?” she asked, surprised she could speak.

“A present wrapped like yourself has only one thing to offer us,” said the thick multi-personal voice. “I want you to dance and strip for us.”

Rella waited for her body to obey all on its own, but it didn’t. She had control, if even for a second. “You won’t force me?”

“Puppets are much less fun than slaves.”

“Then I can leave?”

Melior smirked. “Perhaps a demonstration.” She turned to the women around the chamber. “Who wants to serve us and join us?”

All the women raised their hands and squirmed like children being offered a treat. Melior kept her eyes fixed on Rella. “What if we told you it would be excruciatingly painful?”

“Please,” whined the women.

“Pick me!”

“I love pain.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Please!”

Melior looked at Rella. “You pick one for us.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Who do you think deserves pain?”

Rella looked around the room. There were two elven women and three humans like her. She recognized one as Cynthia, with dark hair, olive skin, and thick kohl lining her eyes. She was dressed like a whore and had always been dressed this way. She joined the Abbey in hopes of becoming a political advisor in the future. She had no love of the light, only love of herself.

“Cynthia,” Rella said without hesitation. She forgot to ask Azora for forgiveness.

Cynthia squealed with delight and ran up to Melior. The other women pouted, but with a glare from Melior, they silenced themselves. Melior spread her legs wider, and Cynthia sank to her knees. She looked up at Melior eagerly, reverently. The demon looked down and nodded to the girl. Cynthia licked Melior’s vagina, but the demon made no sound of pleasure. She looked up at Rella and smiled.

“Good pick,” she said and ran her clawed hands through the girl’s dark hair.

“What will happen to her?” asked Rella.

“You know what will happen.”

Rella nodded. She did. The demon had made it clear: serve, suffer, and join. It was the way of corruption and consumption. It was the way of Maloth.

And somehow Rella had participated in it.

“Dance for us,” commanded Melior. “Dance and unwrap our present. Maybe today we’ll get to feast on your pride and false-modesty.”

Before Rella could ask a question, music filled her ears. The thick smell of the room was like steam and smoke and sweat blurring her vision and confusing her senses. There was a faint and lovely sound buzzing through it all and the long lick and slurps of Cynthia’s tongue. Rella tried to retreat into her mind, to shut herself off from the horrors around her, but the music dwelt with her there. The music and the sound of Cynthia’s debauchery.

Without her permission, her hips began to sway to the music. The girls around her laughed. She tried to tell them that she couldn’t control herself, but she couldn’t speak. She was helpless as her body gave into the pleasure sound. It reminded her of home: of sweat and sand and heat you can see. Of smokey rooms her father would run and fill with half-naked women. Of smokey rooms where her father would cheat on her mother, and it didn’t matter that everyone knew. Aisha knew and was forced to stay. But not Rella. She could run away to an Abbey where everyone was pure. She could run away and never have to see women embarrass themselves for the sake of a man ever again.

But she was back there now, in the hot and smokey room. She hips moved like the dancers her father hired. They could stand perfectly still while only their bellies and hips obeyed the music. Rella tried that now — tried to force herself to stillness — but her hips would not obey. Her arms extended and followed the music. Her wrists twisted, and her hands writhed. She danced as the greatest belly dancers of her time did, though her feet stayed still on the ground. But that was not her greatest shame. There was no shame in dancing, not while in a veil.

She hated herself for the relief and prayer of thankfulness that flooded her mind as she pulled off her head covering. It was so hot in this room, and she was warm with the shame and the eyes of the other women. Her skin needed to breathe, and so a surge of pleasure washed over her sweaty face. She was not forced to smile and pretend to enjoy herself as she shamed herself forever in front of this demon. They knew of her bright green eyes but not her hair dark as night or her skin red and tan as the sands she escaped.

But the demon knew of her birthmark on her side, above her hips, a black mark like a crow. No one here knew. No one but her mother knew. How could the demon? How was any of this possible?

The women didn’t shame or mock Rella as she revealed herself. Instead, they clapped and cheered. Some of them cried out that she was beautiful, and even Cynthia stopped licking Melior long enough to turn around and look at Rella’s face.

Beauty? Was it possible that she’d been hiding beauty all this time? She wasn’t beautiful in her father’s house or the men that came and inspected her, looking to see if she would make a worthy bride. They lifted her chin like cattle, and she never wanted to feel that way again. She assumed if she ever were to marry, that her wedding night would be another chance to be weighed and measured.

She had never expected to be celebrated.

Rella smiled at their encouragement and the music got louder in her ears. Her hips swayed more and more dramatically, trying to impress them. She’d always been a competitive woman, and she wouldn’t be outdone now. They liked what they saw? Well, wait until she pushed herself.

“Unwrap our present,” commanded Melior. The logic of it overwhelmed Rella as she closed her eyes. It was far too hot in here for her to stay trapped in this thick veil. Besides, she needed to roll her stomach, to show off the sensual smoothness of her flesh. She couldn’t do any of that under her veil.

When she opened her eyes, Melior was standing in front of her. Back at the bed, Cynthia was panting and whining, waiting for her Mistress to come back. Rella smiled lazily, letting the tingling drug of Melior’s power wash over her. The demon raised a long claw and made several quick slices over Rella’s veil. Then, without a word, she turned and went back to her bed. She spread her legs, and Cynthia went back to work.

Rella understood what to do. She looked at the other girls in the room. They were all dancing, all inviting her to join them. Rella had spent weeks locked in the library with books. Ever since she arrived here, everyone shunned her but Iriel. They thought she was strange to revive the old and draconian tradition of the veil. She pretended it didn’t matter — that only Iriel and Azora’s approval mattered — but it was a lie. Now she had a room full of sisters with their piercings glowing so bright. They were inviting her in to play, to step out of her stuffy library and join them. Would she do it? Of course she would.

Rella continued dancing. She twisted her arm and then tugged at one sleeve of her veil. It fell away effortlessly, and the girls cheered. Rella smiled and blushed. She turned to do it with another sleeve, but she caught Melior’s eyes before she did it. Understanding passed between them. Slower. Melior wanted to watch her present unwrap itself slowly and delicately.

Rella eased the sleeve down, then paused before it revealed her elbow. She spun and undulated her belly and hips. The women howled with delight, and as she passed back around, she lifted another bare arm and wiggled her fingers. She was met with more cheering. Melior licked her lips. Between her legs, Cynthia continued to work, going faster and faster.

Rella extended her hands and curled her fingers, summoning two of the girls to come to her side. They obeyed and giggled, grinding up against the veiled woman while she whispered in their ears. They nodded and continued to dance with her. Rella raised both her hands above her head and spun, still grinding against each woman with the music. She took a step and pulsed her hips. They spun with her, keeping their thighs between her thighs. It was as intricate as clockwork. Rella stepped and thrusted. They thrusted and spun.

Step. Thrust.

Spin. Thrust.

Step. Thrust.

Spin. Thrust.

Step.

Thrust.

Spin.

Thrust.

Step.

Thrust.

Spin.

Thrust.

It distracted her audience from the slow pull of the fabric. The two women unwrapped Rella like a piece of candy in the marketplace. They held the fabric tight, and she spun out of it, slowly revealing her stomach. Her audience cheered, and even Melior clapped slowly as Rella could get to the real work of dancing, of showing off her body for the first time. Her mind was clouded and drugged with lust. All she could think about was how much fun this was. She could only concern herself with her own amusement and the amusement of her audience. She thought silly thoughts like, And no one here wants to hunt me. There is no predator here. But of course, the demon was sitting across from her, devouring a snack as Rella danced.

Rella’s logic was gone. Her understanding of cause and effect was gone. She could no more remember the fear when she first saw Melior than understand what would happen when she was done dancing. There was only the present moment. If ever she could recall the past, her mind went to the pages of The Rites of Debauchery. A small voice inside her said that this scene belonged in the book, but she knew that wasn’t right. There was no pain here. There was only pleasure. Abundant pleasure.

One of the women grabbed Rella’s chin and turned her lips. Rella didn’t have time to react before the woman kissed her. The crowd clapped and cheered. Rella twisted her hands above her head and kept dancing, acting as though the kiss was all part of it. When their lips parted, Rella was breathless. Before she could process, the other woman grabbed her chin, spun her, and kissed her. She kept dancing. She had to keep dancing.

You can dance and taste, said a voice in Rella’s mind. It was thick like honey and feminine, but there was something dangerous to it. It hissed more than whispered. Without thinking, Rella knew what it meant and what it expected of her. She eased her hips down and bent her knees, enjoying the swell of her ass as she turned and latched her lips around one of the women’s breasts. She sucked on the piercing, and the woman moaned with delight. The nipple tasted like milk and lightning as its power swirled through Rella. It was absolute pleasure and abandon. Consequences were gone. There was only the dance and the flesh. There was only the approval of the crowd and the chance to show off her beautiful body. Everything else was gone as she searched for the source of the lovely voice that guided her.

It was hot and sticky in this room. It was smokey and sweet. It was a blur of bodies and dancing and motion and kissing. It was more than she could process or handle. The two women stepped away from her and kissed each other. They slammed against the stone wall of the chamber and kept kissing, their hands roaming over their body. Rella knew they were sluts and yet wondered why they didn’t do that to her.

Because she was still in clothes.

Rella bent over and grabbed the hem of her veil. She continued to writhe, shaking her hips and belly, waving her ass as she lowered herself and slowly rose up, pulling up her skirt as she went. There was nothing but the thick undergarment to show off, but to Rella it was a level of nudity the whores around her could never imagine. They could never sink as far as she could because they had never been as high, never been as pure.

And when they fuck me, thought Rella, it will be more debased than they could imagine.

The thought was strange, but Rella knew it had to be from Melior, from the dancing and book. It couldn’t have been from her. Yet her mind lingered on the thought instead of rejecting it. She imagined the page in the book of one woman sodomizing another. Would Melior do that to her? Perhaps with her tail. Yes. She imagined when she was done unwrapping herself that the demon would bend her over and fuck her. There would be no pleasure, nothing in service to Azora. It would all be pain, all a sacrifice to Maloth.

She was disgusted with herself. She should have never allowed herself to be taken by a demon. She should have died rather than obey its commands. Yet here she was, one of its harlots, Dancing for it, and enjoying herself. There would be no better punishment than to take its tail inside her, to be a toy for pain and suffering.

After all, that’s why she followed Azora, isn’t it? For Penance?

Rella ripped a slit through her skirt and lifted the fabric up. She twirled, raising her hands above her head. As she pulsed her hips and her belly rolled, as she spun and danced, the skirt slowly peeled away, and Rella unwrapped the demon’s present. She was in nothing but the shreds of her veil over her chest and the thick undergarment protecting her womanhood. She was unwrapped. She stood, chest heaving, waiting for her penance.

Melior closed her eyes and gripped the back of Cynthia’s head. Cynthia was covered in sweat and eager, but she wasn’t going to stop. Melior dug her claws in further and roared with pleasure. Her body shook, and as she climaxed, something happened to Cynthia. Cynthia moaned, and her skin blackened at the edges, as though turning to ash. The corruption spread, but Cynthia kept moaning. She moaned and writhed and served until she was burnt all over. The last thing to turn black was her tongue, and then the woman turned into a cloud of green and pink and black vapor. There was one final discorporate yell from Cynthia, and then the vapor tightened and slid into Melior’s vagina. The demon moaned as it happened, her body tight and her back arched until the vapor was gone and there was no sign of the woman.

The spell broke over Rella. All at once, she felt the chill of her nudity and shame. Around her, the girls clapped and cheered as Cynthia joined Melior. Rella didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be like them. She had to leave. She had to save herself.

Melior collapsed backwards on the bed, her chest heaving with the pleasure of her orgasm. Rella muttered a dozen apologies to Azora. She prayed for forgiveness and redemption. She prayed for protection and power. She prayed for safe passage and help. Then, with one swift motion, she opened the door to the demon’s chamber and ran for her life.