The Youth of the Dark Lord
by Jennifer Kohl
Maida stood in the tower’s doorway, looking down the hill at the village below. I can do this, she told herself. I can get free.
She’d not been to the little shrine on the far side of the village in years—her presentation to the Huntress, the Mother, and the Lover after her first period. People generally didn’t, except for special events—births, deaths, farmers making propitiatory sacrifices during droughts, that kind of thing. The gods were important, but important the way the rain was important—something you wanted around when you needed it, and kept out of when you didn’t.
Well, now she needed it. Who better than a priest to help her ward off a demon? With a deep breath, she set off down the hill.
In his room, eyes closed, Tyryn watched her. His cum was still inside her, and that was an even better link for his magic than strands of her hair, at least for the couple of days it would last. He wondered idly why she was going down to the village, but it ultimately didn’t matter; wherever she went, he was in her.
The shrine was quiet when Maida walked in. The priest knelt before the altar, upon which something small and fragrant was burning—just one of the many mysterious rituals he performed on behalf of the village. She waited, trying to figure out what to say to him, until he turned and noticed her.
“Hello,” he said. “You’re Vilnus’ girl... Maida, yes?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Come to seek the aid of the gods?” he asked. He was a grandfatherly old main—round-faced, white-haired, heavily bearded, balding, and with the gentle smile of someone who had heard every problem every villager could have a hundred times. “You can’t already be planning to wed?”
Maida shook her head. “No, nothing like that...” She licked her lips nervously, and felt a strange tingling in them. “I, um, I have a problem.”
The priest frowned a little. “I should think a healer’s daughter would have many options for dealing with that.”
Maida’s lips were still tingling distractingly, so it took her a moment to figure out what he meant. “No, not that! This is worse.”
“Well, I’m here to help however I can,” the priest said.
Maida twisted uncomfortably. “I’ve been... visited.”
“A... presence. It comes to my room at night. It makes me do things.” Maida flushed slightly, in embarrassment, but also arousal.
“Oh,” said the priest. “I should have thought your father—Well, all right. I know they can be frightening, but those sorts of feelings happen to a lot of young women, especially around your age.”
“No!” Maida snapped in exasperation. Between the tingling pleasure of her lips and the tingling pleasure of her other lips, she was having trouble focusing on the conversation, and that compounded the frustration. “It talked to me! It’s physical, monstrous—some kind of demon! I want help exorcising it!”
The priest blanched. “Oh! That’s... hmm. I haven’t done many exorcisms, but I’m sure the blessings of the Watchman and, hmm, the Lover perhaps?”
Relief flooded Maida. “Oh thank you!” she said, half-falling, half-stepping forward to hug him.
He awkwardly put a hand around her shoulders and patted them gently. She looked up at him, her lips tingling, and then—not sure if it was her own choice to try to do something about that feeling, or the demon pushing her—she kissed him.
He recoiled, pushing her away, and she pursued. The confusion, fear, and anger in his eyes terrified her. “Please...” she said. “Please help me.” She tried to plaster herself against him, and he drew back again.
They stood stock still for a moment, eyes wide and locked on each other, their expressions wild with terror. Then Maida turned and fled.
She didn’t make it far—only to the narrow path between the edge of the fields and the brewer’s cottage. It was an isolated spot at this time of day and year—just a couple of barely visible figures tending the crops out in the far reaches of the fields. She could sag against the wall of the cottage—one of the larger and sturdier buildings in the village—and catch her breath.
Panting, she unlaced the top of her tunic a little for air. As she did, she thought, A demon couldn’t reach me inside the shrine. It’s sacred ground. So it can’t have been controlling me... which means these feelings are mine. I did that. There’s a reason the demon chose me... there’s something wrong inside me, isn’t there? She fought back the tears that threatened to well up. There was no time for such things. If the priest couldn’t help her, she’d have to figure out something else.
Watching through their mystical link, Tyryn allowed himself a short, sharp laugh. He couldn’t see Maida’s thoughts, but he saw how she fled, how upset she was. He considered preventing her from holding back her tears, but decided against it—he didn’t care for the way her face scrunched up when she cried. It made him feel things that might get in the way of his plans, things he wasn’t used to feeling. Pity, perhaps, or even a tiny bit of sympathy.
He pushed that aside. The important thing was, a smart girl like her was sure to draw the lesson that the priest couldn’t help her from this. That meant no risk of someone, who knew more than Tyryn or Maida about demons, exposing him. That was why he’d made her lips and pussy sensitive, and why he’d pushed her to embrace and kiss the priest. Now for some more fun...
Deep in dark thoughts, Maida didn’t notice right away what her hands were doing. She had her tunic almost completely unlaced before she realized what was happening—but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stop it—she once again had no control over her body. Her hands pulled the tunic off, then dropped it to the ground. A moment later, they pushed down her skirt, and her feet stepped out of it.
This isn’t me, this isn’t me, this isn’t me... But the tingling pleasure she felt, was that her? Was that what had driven her to throw herself at that sweet old man? And if so... how much of this was her, and how much the demon? Some part of me wants this... that’s why the demon has power over me. But if that’s true, I should be able to fight this. And she needed to fight it, she realized. Naked, she was walking out into the fields, toward those distant laboring figures!
As she drew closer, she recognized them, and her heart sank. Alfrec and Osbern, villagers a few years older than her. Tall, strong boys, but their well-earned reputation as louts and regular late-night drunken brawls ensured none of the village’s women had any interest in them. Not that they seemed to mind; they were regular customers of the cheaper of the village’s two whores, the more expensive having banned their custom after an incident, the details of which were known only to her and the two of them.
“No,” Maida whimpered quietly, unable to raise her voice. But she still strode on. Her face shifted itself into a winsome smile she didn’t feel as the two men turned to look at her. Osbern nudged Alfrec, said something she couldn’t see, and they both laughed.
Still smiling, she beckoned, and they approached. “How much?” asked Alfrec.
Still smiling, she shook her head. No no no no no... She couldn’t fight this, couldn’t control her motions. She was a puppet, and she should be terrified.
Instead, all she could feel was the growing wetness between her thighs, the warm, empty, squirming feeling building inside of her. The demon’s work? Her body’s betrayal? Or that darkness she was now certain was inside of her?
She dropped to her knees in front of the two men, and they grinned. Their pants soon hit the ground, leaving two erect cocks dangling in front of her face.
It was far from the first time Maida had seen one. She was a healer’s daughter, and had assisted him in all kinds of procedures from the day she was old enough to stand beside him, holding a tray of tools.
But she’d never seen one erect before, though she’d read descriptions in some of the books she’d studied, so she knew what was happening. She reached out helplessly, wrapping a hand around each shaft. They were smooth, warm, and firm as she slowly began sliding her hands up and down.
“Yeah, you like that,” said Osbern.
“You’re that girl who lives up the hill, aren’t you? In the tower. Fuck, daddy goes out of town and you go to town, huh?” Alfrec laughed at his own joke. A moment later, Osbern joined in.
A moan escaped Maida’s lips. It was born of frustration and helplessness, but the men whose cocks she was stroking heard excitement.
“Yeah, she definitely likes it,” said Osbern, laughing.
“Course she does. Don’t you, tower girl?” Alfrec responded.
Maida moaned again. Then, to her horror, she found herself leaning forward, bringing her mouth to Alfrec’s cock. No, please no, please don’t make me—As her lips touched him, that tingling pleasure exploded. It didn’t feel quite as good as having the demon inside her had the previous night, but it was still good, and for a moment Maida’s mind just blanked at the pleasure.
She wrapped her lips around him and began to bob her head up and down, steadying herself with one hand while with the other she continued to stroke Alfrec. Her tongue tingled with pleasure like her lips, as if by sucking his cock she was sucking pleasure into herself, and for all she hated it, she couldn’t help but acknowledge how good it felt.
I’m horrible, she thought. I can’t control this at all... it feels so good, and the part of me that wants more is so strong...
She pulled off Alfrec with a pop, which earned an indignant “Hey!” from him. But he seemed mollified at the sensation of her, hand gliding up and down his cock so much more easily now that it was dripping with Maida’s saliva. Meanwhile, her lips and tongue, suddenly bereft of the pleasure as they were, didn’t have long to wait; she had them sucking and swirling around Osbern’s cock a second later.
As pleasure filled her, she found she could move her free hand. The one stroking Alfrec, her mouth, her legs, those were all under the control of Karnath—but that hand, that arm, could move freely. She could punch or scratch at Osbern, or try to use it to push herself off—she should do that. But if I do, the demon will just take control again, and who knows what it might do—or what these louts might do, for that matter. And part of her was crying out for attention...
Hating herself for it, knowing she could stop, that she was choosing to do it... she brought her hand between her thighs and began to finger herself. She moaned around Osbern’s cock as the pleasure of touching herself began to surge upward, meeting the downward flow of the pleasure filling her mouth.
As she orgasmed, her cries were muffled by Osbern’s cock, vibrating along them. He groaned and came, hot, salty, sticky fluid filling her mouth. She choked and gagged, but everywhere it touched, pleasure surged. She had to swallow, to feel that pleasure spreading down her throat.
“More,” she pleaded, and flushed when she realized it was out loud. Her body was her own again... but she really did want more. No—needed more, needed to feel that again. She eagerly swallowed Alfrec’s cock again, bobbing her head eagerly, swirling her tongue, sucking enthusiastically, desperate for more pleasure like she’d just felt.
“Fuck,” he moaned, and then to her dismay he pulled out, spurting on her face.
But she wasn’t dismayed at all: it felt just as good on her skin as it had in her throat, and she spasmed in ecstasy, falling back as he continued to spurt across her breasts and belly. Gasping at the pleasure, she rubbed it into herself, trying to get it across as much of her body as possible.
Then she lay there, staring at the sky. The two men quietly picked up their pants and, after a moment, returned to work, satisfied and therefore no longer interested in her.
She’d been manipulated and controlled like a puppet, used for their pleasure by two men, and then left like so much trash. And she’d loved it.
Is this really what I want? she thought. To be used like a plaything and then discarded like the... She shied away from the thought momentarily, then returned to it. It was true—what other explanation was there for this side of her that craved what was being done to her? What other meaning could there be to the now-obvious truth, that that craving had drawn the demon to her, that she had perhaps even unintentionally summoned it.
Used and discarded like the trash I am, she thought, and shuddered—in pleasure.