The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Embrace of the Goddess

Chapter 8: Rella & The High Priestess

By Trixie Adara


Iriel managed to dismiss Zara and the other naiads from her chamber without a snarl. Barely. She raised a hand and pinched her fingers, pulling away from her body like she caught a stray hair. As she pulled, the sweat crept off her body, following the motion of her fingers. She flung the sweat against the wall and stepped into her bath chamber.

The mirror was still covered.

Iriel grabbed a brush and straightened out her hair. She sighed as she smoothed out the first knot. She didn’t mind the pain. Pain was purifying. Over and over, she pulled at the thick and wavy black hair she’d been cursed with by Maloth and smoothed it out. It was annoying to do it without a mirror, but that just meant she had to double and triple check each spot. It meant more brush strokes which meant less time having to do anything else, like sitting at that stupid desk.

Reports were waiting for her. Reports. Of all the burdens she thought she’d have in serving Maloth, bureaucracy was not one of them. But in the beginning she was a cult leader in the midst of a revolution. She was a rebel, and each individual doubled her following. Now she was High Priestess all over again. Now she had a coven of acolytes that wanted to fuck or prayed to be turned into monstrosities at the pools. Now they were at war with the paladins.

Now she was at war with Orilana.

Iriel turned the brush in her hand and looked at it. It reminded her of Orilana, of the last pleasant talk they had before everything went to shit. Now, if Iriel wanted, three dozen eager and horny women, a battalion of nymphs, and seven demons would gladly come and brush her hair. But they wouldn’t just sit and talk. No. They’d run their hands over Iriel’s skin. They’d whisper in her ear. They’d beg to fuck her, to consume her, to burn up inside her.

Iriel looked at the claws holding the brush and dropped it. She got up and stepped out of her bath chamber, but that just left her desk and her bed, which were both her places of business lately. She thought she’d be a goddess now that she served Maloth. She thought she’d be free of rules and regulations, but all that changed was which rule she was left to follow. She didn’t want to fuck another girl stupid. She didn’t want to corrupt and twist another soul. She was tired of monsters and demons, but there was no going back now, was there?

No, hissed Maloth in her mind. The goddess laughed, and Iriel shivered. She couldn’t sleep with the goddess whispering to her. Even bitching about her situation in her mind wasn’t safe. There was no privacy between her and the goddess. At least with Azora, the goddess was dead. You could close your door on the religion and ride your dildo shouting any obscenity you wanted. Maloth never permitted such distance.

Iriel passed the small stand where the Staff of Eclipse once stood. Another reminder of Orilana. Her best friend had taken the most powerful artifact in the Abbey and locked herself away with the paladins. There was no getting through to her or getting through her. It was a stalemate.

I will take her, hissed Maloth.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Iriel. She was going to collapse on her bed and roll around fitfully, pretending to sleep for another evening. She was so tired. Maybe when she woke up, she’d find the joy in taking and twisting. Maybe she’ll wake up and Orilana will be corrupted and eager to curl into Iriel and snuggle.

No. Demons don’t snuggle.

A knock came at the door. “Go away,” moaned Iriel as she collapsed onto the bed.

The knocking continued.

* * *


“I said go away,” shouted Iriel from the other side of the door.

Rella glanced back down the corridor. She didn’t see anyone following her, but they had to be. Melior wouldn’t let her escape so easily. She had to be right behind Rella along with her harlots. They would bind Rella and take her mind. They’d force her to serve like Cynthia, and then Rella would be gone.

Or worse than gone: she’d join the chorus of Melior.

“Please!” shrieked Rella as she pounded on the door. “Please let me in, High Priestess.”

She had hoped there’d be guards that could defend her at the High Priestess’s chambers, but the hallway was empty. Most of the Abbey was empty from what Rella could see. What were they all doing? Or were they all locked in chambers like Melior’s, all lost in their own debauchery.

Oh Blessed Dawn, thought Rella. Iriel is the only one who can save us.

“Please, High Priestess! My life is in danger and the lives of the —”

The door swung open. Iriel stood with her hips cocked. Her thin robe was parted and revealed her nudity beneath. Her skin was dark purple, and her hair was black. She had horns on the side of her head, hooves, a spaded tail, and black claws.

“Oh no,” whispered Rella.

“Oh,” said Iriel, shaking her head. “Sorry.” Her form flickered, and there the blessed High Priestess returned with her tan skin and hair like copper caught in the sunrise. Rella must be hallucinating. The spell of Melior’s must have lingering effects. Yet Iriel was still in a thin robe parted down the middle to show her navel and red pubic hair. She had thick black bags under her eyes and a look of exasperation.

“I forgot you were coming,” muttered Iriel. She stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Rella looked back down the hallway. Something was wrong with the High Priestess, but there was no way it could be worse than what was happening in Melior’s chamber. She took a deep breath and stepped past Iriel into her chamber. Iriel closed the door behind her.

“You should lock it,” said Rella.

“Excuse me?”

“The door. Lock it. Please.”

Iriel rolled her eyes and latched the door. She muttered a spell, and the door made a satisfying click. “Better?” she asked.

Rella nodded. “High Priestess, I have horrible news to report to you.”

Iriel twisted her hand, and a shiver ran through Rella’s body. The girl’s spine straightened up as something latched onto her mind. “What did I tell you to call me when it’s just us?”

“Sorry, goddess,” whispered Rella.

“It doesn’t matter,” sighed Iriel. “Let’s get this over with. Horrible news, yes?”

“Yes, goddess. There are demons in the Abbey.”

“You don’t say?”


“Demons? Really?” But Iriel didn’t speak like one shocked to hear it. She spoke like someone patronizing a small child telling them the sky is blue.

“Yes. Goddess,” said Rella slowly. “You’re not concerned.”

“No. I am.” Iriel flicked her hand at Rella. “Go on.”

“I was researching in the library, following up on —”

“Skip ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Skip ahead. Was it Melior that found you today? Or Farryn? Or maybe Prim finally heard what we’re doing to you and wanted to show herself?” Iriel sat up on the bed. “Tell me. Which demon found you today?”

“I …” Rella stepped back and put her hand on the latch of the door. “Goddess?” Something was wrong here. Not just in this room, but in the whole Abbey. It was as though Rella had woken up into a nightmare and all the sweetness of the world as a dream.

“Blessed Dawn, we really did a number on you, didn’t we?”

“I’m confused …” Rella tried to quietly turn the latch of the door, but of course, it was locked. She was trapped here.

Iriel sighed and collapsed back onto the bed. “It’s okay, acolyte. Tell the story. You were in the library researching about Maloth, correct?”

“Maybe I should go. You look tired.”

Iriel laughed. “You have no idea what I look like.”

“You need sleep.”

“I need quiet.” Iriel tapped her forehead. “But that’s impossible now.”

“Why is that —”

“No, even when you’re satisfied,” Iriel said to no one. “You’ll still be with me, won’t you?”

Rella looked around the room for who else Iriel was talking to. “Goddess?” she whispered.

Iriel sat up in the bed. “Sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Would you like some coffee?”


“Or wine?” Iriel smiled. “Or something stronger. I know you’ve had a long day.”

“But I haven’t —”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting.” Iriel waved for Rella to go on. “Tell me about your day. Here. Sit.” She pointed to her bed. “You look exhausted.”

Rella looked down at herself. Her veil was mostly gone, only shreds of it covering her chest and the thick undergarment covering her womanhood. She looked more than exhausted. She looked like she’d been attacked by a tiger. And Iriel had never seen her without her veil on. No one had. Why hadn’t she mentioned that?

“Go!” snapped Iriel as she went to a table at the other side of the room.

Rella’s body moved to the bed and sat down without Rella’s permission. She watched as Iriel poured two glasses of one, drank one glass quickly, and refilled it. She came back to the bed and handed Rella one glass.

“Drink,” she said.

“But I don’t —”


Rella’s body moved on its own again, and she quickly drank her wine. There was something reminiscent in the spell, something that reminded Rella of Melior’s power over her. But her mind was cloudy and her stomach rolled at the sudden intake of alcohol. She’d never had any before.

“So,” said Iriel. “You were in the library.”


“And then?”

“I was researching Maloth.”

“Like I commanded you to do. The special book from Arabo arrived, yes?”

“How did you know?”

Iriel waved a hand. “Just tell me the story. Please. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can fail to go to sleep.” The High Priestess’s form flickered, and Rella thought she saw a sickly purple pallor to the woman’s skin, but it was gone before Rella could convince herself it was real.

The acolyte started telling her story. She tried to hide some of the more shameful parts — how intently she looked at the images and the thoughts she had about them — but Iriel pulled those out of her. She asked how they made Rella feel. She asked if Rella imagined those things happening to her. But it didn’t feel like an interrogation. It felt like Iriel was filling out a form or admitting an entrance exam to a prospective acolyte. The High Priestess got up more than once to refill her wine glass. Without asking, she refilled Rella’s glass, and without prompting, Rella drank it. Her mind swum, and she felt like she was floating. Soon, she was sharing the private details of her thoughts without prompting. The story came out of her easily and lost some of the shameful or terrifying parts of it.

“Anal this time, really?” asked Iriel.

“Excuse me?”

“Sodomy. Between two women. That’s what caught your attention?”

“This time?”

Iriel waved the comment away. “Sorry. Too much wine.”

Rella giggled.

“Maybe you too. We should slow down for later.”


Iriel shook her head. “Go on. This is when Melior shows up, right?”

Rella shivered. The demon was a sobering thought. She talked about trying to defend herself with magic but her spells were weak compared to the demon’s. It was as though Azora wasn’t really defending her, or perhaps the demon was far more powerful than they imagined. It must have been the former because Iriel didn’t seem concerned about the demon. She nodded along as Rella spoke but didn’t interrupt. Rella found the words easily, and she thought it was the wine that made it so. She would have been mortified to explain the tug of the demon’s spells on her or the shame of dancing in front of all the girls.

But to her surprise, there was a kind of pride in her dance. She danced well. The other girls liked it. They cheered for her. They wanted to see her body. Not just to have sex with her. No. They enjoyed her curves. They enjoyed the way it moved. They celebrated her body. For a brief moment, it wasn’t about modesty or harlotry. It wasn’t about lust or shame. It was about the goodness of flesh.

“You liked it,” said Iriel.


“It’s okay to say you liked stripping for them.”

“It is?”

“You can’t help that you liked it anymore than you can help preferring oranges to apples.”

“Actually I prefer —”

Iriel silenced her with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter. You can just say you like taking your clothes off. Goddess knows it’s obvious enough.” Iriel gestured to Rella’s partial nudity, and the girl blushed.

“I —”

“Say it,” said Iriel.

“Say what?”

“Say you like taking your clothes off.”

“But I —”

“Almost everyone in the Abbey knows already.”


“Say it.”

Rella waited for the compulsory spell to take her again, but nothing happened. Iriel’s gaze held her, and she knew there would be nothing but scorn for her if she refused. But she could refuse. There was still a choice.

“I like taking my clothes off,” said Rella. She smiled despite the awfulness of the sentence. It was freeing to get it off her chest.

“Feel better?”

Rella nodded.

“That might be the wine.”

Rella giggled.

“How did you feel dancing for them?”

“I …” Rella didn’t know how to put it. She knew she was under a spell. Melior was controlling her in part. Then there was the pressure of the girls. There was the heat and the smoke. It was a strange memory, like a fevered dream.

“Naughty,” whispered Rella.

And the truth of it struck her. That was it. It wasn’t the pleasure of the day that filled her with delight. It wasn’t even fascination and curiosity. It was the wrongness of it all. She knew it was wrong to look at a dryad’s body, but she looked anyway. She knew the book was an abomination, yet it excited her to look at abominations. She knew Melior was evil, but it excited her to follow evil through the hallowed halls of the Abbey. She knew it was wrong to take off her veil, to reveal her body, but it felt good to do so anyways. It was the knowing that made it erotic. If she was ignorant to modesty, to goodness, there would be no sweetness in betraying it. The betrayal was the thing. That’s what she liked.

“Like now?” Iriel gestured to Rella, and the girl looked down. Her hand was down her undergarments. Her fingers were slowly easing the folds of her vulva and running between the lips. She was wet with excitement and playing with herself in front of the High Priestess of Azora.

And that was another kind of betrayal.

“Yessss,” moaned Rella. “Oh goddess, yesssss.”

Iriel laughed and stood up, going to refill her glass of wine. “More wine?” she asked.

“Mmmm, yesss.” She giggled. “You going to get me drunk, goddess?”

“I think you already are,” sighed Iriel. “And I don’t think I can stall you any longer.”


“Nothing.” Iriel returned to her seat and handed one wine glass to Rella. She drank it eagerly, letting it spill down her lips. It was hard to drink and finger herself at the same time.

“Why does it feel so good to be bad?” she asked. “Why am I telling you all this?”

Iriel took a deep breath. “Because we’ve had this conversation before in one form or another.”


Iriel’s form shimmered and the terrifying demon form of Iriel stood before her but disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Rella just giggled. Her mind was fuzzy and tingly. She didn’t flinch as Iriel bent forward and used her claws to cut away the remaining fabric of Rella’s veil, exposing her breasts. Rella looked down, and her nipples were pierced with purple circular rings that glowed faintly with runic magic.

“Every day you wake up fresh and research Maloth for me. Every night you come here and give yourself to me in one form or another. Before you go to sleep, I command you to forget, and you start pure and new all over again.” Iriel took a sip of her wine. “Though it’s a tiresome game.”

Rella’s mind spun. She put her wine glass down slowly and took her hands away from her soaked pussy. She brought her fingers gently to the piercings and moaned softly when she touched them. Warmth like sunlight spread from her nipples at the slightest touch.

“I’m ruined,” she whispered. “Like those whores with Melior.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say —”

“I’m a whore like them.” She looked up at Iriel with tears in her eyes. “It’s too late for me.”

Iriel gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she said.

But Rella’s body thrummed with delight. In a moment, years of battling and shame melted off her. She didn’t need to hide anymore. She didn’t need the veil. She could dance if she wanted. She could show off her body. She could allure and seduce. It didn’t matter. Her whole life she kept herself pure, trying not to let herself get corrupted and used up. She didn’t want to be a ruined woman. That’s what her father called girls who lost their virginity before marriage: ruined women. But she was already ruined. There was no going back. She could not reclaim what was lost. There was no redemption or hope for her. There was only one thing left to do: to embrace it.

Rella slid a hand back between her legs and moaned. The other hand squeezed her nipple, and though it was tender, the pleasure that surged through her was more than worth the pain.

“Oh, goddess, I’m ruined,” she moaned, arching her back. She fell back onto the bed. She pulled her hand away from her nipple and clawed at the undergarment, trying to be naked, to be free.

“If you say so,” said Iriel. She stood up, grabbed Rella’s wine glass, and went back to the bar.

“Yes. Yes. And so do you,” said Rella. “You’re the High Priestess of Azora. You should punish me. Yes. Punish me.”

Rella imagined the women in her book — The Rites of Debauchery. There was more pain than pleasure in that book, but a ruined woman deserved pain. Rella deserved pain. She was already ruined like those women. Why shouldn’t she join them? Why shouldn’t she celebrate their dark rites?

“Please, High Priestess. Punish me,” she begged.

* * *


“Wait your turn,” muttered Iriel. She poured herself a glass of water to try and clear her head a bit. She knew where this was going to head — where it headed every night — but she was tired of fucking the curvy acolyte. She was tired of the games and seductions. She was tired of fucking. She was just tired.

Take her, hissed Maloth.

Iriel tried to swat the voice away like a fly. Behind her, Rella moaned and writhed as she fingered herself. She’d cum soon, but then she’d beg Iriel to take her, to punish her, to make love to her. It didn’t matter which narrative she picked. It always had the same ending: she begged to join Maloth. Each night Iriel denied her. At first it was a fun game to draw it out, a sort of punishment for the arrogant and chaste girl. And she’d turn her loose on Melior or Prim or Farryn if she thought they wouldn’t do something worse to her. She thought of all the people now a part of the Chorus of Melior and shivered.

It’s a beautiful way to die, sang Maloth, making her voice sweeter.

“Fuck off,” said Iriel.

“Fuck me, goddess,” moaned Rella from the bed. “Fuck me please.”

Iriel slipped out of her robe. She dropped the spell of her disguise, which she only had to maintain for the hour or two a day with Rella. “Like this?” she asked angrily as she turned back to Rella.

The dark-skinned woman sat up in the bed. Her dark black hair was messy with sweat and writhing, but her bright green eyes pierced through the dimness of the chamber. Rella was short, but she was always curvy. Her thick thighs and huge breasts were always a delight to see, no matter how tired of this game Iriel was.

“Is this the High Priestess you want to punish you?”

Rella’s eyes were wide. “You’re ruined too?”

Iriel laughed, but the words stung. If only she knew, thought Iriel. Or maybe it was Maloth’s voice. “I am the High Priestess of Maloth, Goddess of Pleasure, Lust, and Darkness.” She spread her arms as she spoke, putting out the light in the room and letting the darkness swell towards her like the tide. “Would you like me to punish you?”

“Please,” whimpered the girl. Was it fear or lust? Was there any difference anymore?


“Tie me to the bed and flog me.”

Iriel smirked. “We did that last week.”

Rella offered a dozen different positions without knowing their names. She wanted pain. That was the one thing that stayed the same. Rella was a beautiful masochist, but that didn’t make her any more interesting the seventeenth time Iriel beat her senseless while she orgasmed.

“We’ve done it all,” said Iriel. She lowered her arms and let the darkness sag away from her. “Go to bed, Rella. We’ll see if I care for you tomorrow.”

“No!” whined Rella. “Please. Please punish me, goddess. Please hurt me.”

“I don’t —”

“Sodomize me!” she shrieks. “Have we done that?”

“No, but —”

“Then please fuck my ass, goddess. Sodomize me. Make me your bitch.”

“You do not decide —”

“Fuck me!” Magic rippled through the room and latched itself onto Iriel. Her body moved without her permission, and she went to the drawer of her desk to grab the artifact Farryn had made for her, the one she hadn’t dared to use yet.

But the magic faded, and Iriel snarled. “You dare try to bind me? Me?”

Rella slithered off the bed and crawled towards Iriel. “I’m sorry goddess. Please punish me for my —”

Iriel kicked at the girl. She whimpered and scuttled away. “Do you know what I could do to you?” Iriel lifted up the artifact in her hand. “Do you know what this could do to you?”

“I don’t care,” whispered Rella. “I deserve it. I’m too far gone.”

Iriel stood up straight as the fury flooded out of her. Was she too far gone? And if she was, what did that make Iriel? What did that make Fella and Mola? There was no going back for any of them, but at least the demons got to enjoy their new selves. There was no tension for them, no doubt. They fucked and took. They hunted and fed. They were monsters, and they could find pride in that. Iriel was still an elf — deformed as she was. She still felt pity and shame. She still felt regret. She still longed for love.

And in her anger she trapped Rella in a similar place. Everyday Rella slipped into debauchery. She burned with shame each time she came to Iriel. And instead of freeing her, Iriel damned her to it the next day. She fucked Rella, wiped her mind, and reset the loop. It was an infinite seduction but also an eternal corruption. Rella never found the bottom like Mola and Fella. She was trapped like Iriel. She didn’t deserve that. No one did.

Iriel looked at the artifact in her hand. She didn’t know if it would work. It was more of a concept she and Farryn had been exploring. The piercings could only control someone’s body. They made obedient drones, but they weren’t committed to Maloth. They were little more than slaves. It was a suitable way to control the Abbey, and if she needed to, she could force someone into the pools and let Maloth have them forever. But Maloth wanted to spread over the whole world. This device was an attempt to bring the pools wherever they travelled.

It was a long pink phallus with leather straps that went around the hips like a harness. The pink phallus had black etchings and runes all along it that connected it to the pools of Maloth. It would function as a simple dildo — or as Farryn called it, a strap-on. Iriel could put it on and fuck someone. It would link the two women, and when her prey orgasmed, Iriel would cum as well. And this time, when she came, the strap-on would initiate a link between the pools of Maloth, spurting the fluid directly inside her prey. What would that do to Rella? She wouldn’t be soaking in it for days, so Farryne theorized it would give them control over the mind. With the strap-on and piercings, it would mean perfect control without permanent transformation.

“What would Orilana think?” asked Iriel.

This is the way to take her, hissed Maloth. Fuck her, and she’ll join us.

“No,” she whispered and put the strap-on down.

Do it.

“What will she become?” asked Iriel.

It doesn’t matter.

“Of course it does.”

“Who are you talking to?” asked Rella. “Is that Maloth?”


“No,” whispered Iriel. She went and picked up her robe, sliding it one and tying it tight. “You should leave, Rella.”



“I … can’t … I just … not tonight.” She imagined Orilana bursting through the door and seeing what she’d done. Not just to herself. Not just what she planned to do. But if Orilana saw what Iriel had done with Rella — the way she toyed with the girl for weeks — she’d never forgive her.

“Please,” whined Rella.

“No. Go.” Iriel put the command spell into her voice, and Rella stood and moved towards the door.

You have to fuck her, commanded Maloth.

Rella stopped and turned at the door. “You can’t send me away,” said Rella. There was a strength in anger in her voice. Iriel tensed.

“I command you to leave me,” said Iriel again.

But Rella didn’t move.

Your power comes from me. You will obey me.

Rella smiled and stepped closer. It was an awful smile. It reminded Iriel of the smile of her reflection in the mirror: a smile of Maloth.

“Fuck me,” commanded Rella. Her voice was firm and discordant. Maloth spoke along with her, and black smoke poured out of the girl. It wrapped around Iriel and tore off her robe. Iriel cried out as cold ran over her skin, almost peeling it away and exposing her bone. The black magic took her, and she went back to the drawer, taking out the strap-on Farryn made for her.

Iriel’s body moved against her will as she slid the strap-on up her legs. Rella laughed, and Maloth laughed along with her. Together, the goddess and the acolyte moved to the bed and bent over, lifting Rella’s ass into the air. Iriel finished securing the strap-on and muttered the incantation to activate the runes. She moved behind Rella, grabbed the phallus, and directed it to the girl’s tight anus.

“Please, don’t make me,” she whispered.

Fuck her, said Maloth and Rella at the same time.

Iriel’s body obeyed. “It’s time for my Penance,” whined Rella. “Punish me.” Iriel lined up the phallus to the anus, and without ceremony or warning, pushed it into her acolyte. Rella winced and tightened with the pain, and Iriel wanted to stop, wanted to ask if she was okay, if she wanted Iriel to slow down or ease out, but her mouth was a silent thin line as she pulled back, rocking on her hips, and then thrust again.


Iriel pulled back and thrust again, picking up speed. Rella was tight and didn’t say anything as Iriel fucked her. There was no feedback, no communication. She didn’t know if she was hurting the girl, pleasuring her, or killing her. But it didn’t matter. Rella wanted all three. Maloth wanted all three. Iriel was just a puppet in their lust. She was caught between the darkest secrets of each acolyte in the Abbey and the horrendous fantasies of Maloth. Iriel knew this was bad, but Maloth could do so much worse. This was just the beginning of pain. Maloth had filled her dreams with visions of hooks and needles, of piercings and dangling bodies, of human fluids running thick in the hot bedrooms of lust and pain. Maloth didn’t want to release them from the repression of Azora; she wanted to punish them all. Each creature in creation was going to fall victim to Maloth’s wrath — her twisted pain disguised as pleasure — until they destroyed themselves on it.

There was only one way out, and that was clear to Iriel. She thought there were only two options: be splayed and fucked like Rella or be a puppet and fucking like she was now. But there was a third option, the only true path of Maloth: dominance. She could rise up, not because she wanted power, but because she wanted freedom. She wanted Orilana? There was a way to have her. It wasn’t by begging or appealing to Maloth’s goodness and mercy. There was no goodness or mercy in the dark bitch. She only understood power. For too long Iriel had treated her like an Azora of lust, but that wasn’t her nature. There was no bargaining with her. She would betray any deal as long as it benefited her. There was only power and those that were useful to her.

Yes, sighed Maloth. It sounded as though the goddess herself was turned on and breathless. Now you see me truly.

Iriel moaned as she thrust again, enjoying the slap of her thighs against Rella’s ass. She was concerned with the girl’s pleasure, but that was a waste of time. Even Rella’s comfort was a waste of time. Iriel didn’t want Rella; she wanted Orilana. There was only one real question she had to ask herself: how could she use Rella?

“Oh yes,” sighed Rella. “Fuck. It hurts.”

“But you like it,” said Iriel as Maloth said, You need it.

“Yes, Goddess, yes.” Iriel smirked. She didn’t know which goddess Rella was referring to, and she preferred it that way.

Iriel picked up speed and activated the spell for the strap-on to self-lubricate. She smiled at the satisfying sloshing as she picked up speed and pounded Rella harder. She put her hands on the curvy girl’s hips and pounded deeper. With each thrust, Rella got closer to orgasm. When Rella came, Iriel would. She imagined what monster she’d want Rella to turn into. What happens when a girl has Maloth’s twisted seed planted inside her? No woman had experienced that before. Rella would be a new creation, perhaps even more impressive than Melior.

But there was only one question that mattered now: What did Iriel want her to become? This entire time, she’d watched Maloth work and revelled in the darkness of her goddess. She got wet seeing each transformation and corruption, but she didn’t take charge. She was a spectator until she didn’t like what Maloth was doing. She didn’t need to do that anymore. She could drive the narrative now.

She didn’t want another Melior, and she certainly didn’t want another Prim. She needed someone that could hide what she was, that could ease her way into Orilana’s good graces and bring her best friend back to her. The Abbey could burn — hell the continent could burn — but Iriel would have her prize. She would have Orilana.

Yes, hissed Maloth. That is true worship.

Maloth didn’t want people that worked with her. She wanted rivals. She wanted others as twisted as she was. The last worthy adversary she had was Azora, and she would have another again — even if the goddess had to create her own opponent. Would Iriel ascend to that? Would she become more than a High Priestess? Yes. Yes. For Orilana. For freedom. For power. Yes. She would do whatever it took.

Yes, hissed Maloth. Yesssss.

Iriel moaned and thrust harder and faster against Rella. The girl gripped the sheets, but she bucked back, slamming her ass against Iriel’s thighs. The two women worked in unison, lengthening each stroke, helping Iriel reach deeper and deeper inside of Rella. She wanted to see the black water shoot out of Rella’s throat. Then she’d known she’d gone deep enough. Yes. That was the only way. Further. Deeper. Harder. Darker. More. More. More. More.

“Oh goddess, oh goddess!” moaned Rella. She locked up but her body quivered as the orgasm took her. Iriel did the same, her legs locking tight as the magic of the strap-on worked on both of them. She came as Rella came, and the black liquid of the pools filled Rella’s body. It dribbled down her legs, and Iriel shivered at it’s cold and stinging touch. They both quivered together, locked in place. Iriel lost track of time. It could have been minute or hours, but they stayed in place until their bodies stopped shaking.

Then, without ceremony, Iriel slid out of Rella and climbed off the bed. She kept the strap-on between her legs, liking the weight of it, as she went to the closet and found a replacement veil for her prey. There were dozens there and had been dozens before as they played out their little script each day.

Rella mumbled something on the bed, delirious with both pain and pleasure. The magic of the pools would work on her slowly, but Iriel didn’t want to watch it happen. And she only did what she wanted now. No one would place her under compulsion — magical or otherwise. Not Rella. Not Orilana. Not Maloth. No one.

“Shhh,” said Iriel as she placed the veil over Rella’s quivering body. “Forget about all this. Maybe tomorrow will be better when you show me what monster you’ve become.”

She walked away from the girl and went to her desk. She had much to plan and a war to win. She didn’t want to waste one more day until Orilana was bound to her forever.

* * *


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. 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.

“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 books are fine. Thank you.”

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

“Yes. Lick my cunt while I read, will you?”

“As you wish,” said the dryad, sinking to her knees.