Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

11: The Travelers (Part 2)



Heads up: Non-consensual sex and snuff ahead


The young blonde priestess gripped her staff tightly against her chest.

“Lemlift?” She pleadingly looked at the halfling now under control of the devil beside him.

Sarakiel looked down at her charmed puppet, “So you’re of the Lift clan?” The name was all too familiar but this member in particular appeared not.

Turning her attention back to the cleric, she took a step closer to the scared girl, “So, out with it. Where is Merle?”

Bella took a step back. Eyes were wide in the magelight, she looked upon the creature that had already claimed her friend, “I- I don’t know. I’m- I’m just a deacon. Low on the ladder…”

The succubus had heard enough.

Sara’s head felt as if it were in a vice, the feeling of the cold steel still lingered on the back of her neck and her crest began to fade coupled with the overbearing sense of hunger she felt.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Twelve hells…” She muttered, her normally voluminous white hair being weighed down and straightened by the water still within. Her frustrations with this incompetant group began to stack higher and higher.

If she was not going to get answers to that question, she was going to get answers to another. “Lemlift, was it?” The halfling remained in his fight stance, his eyes and mouth wide open. “Put a hold on the girl, will you?”

Her crest was now burning. The whole ordeal drained her of what little mana she had left, interrupted during even her band-aid solution. Not to mention, this girl sided with the man who killed Samuel and his family, another headache altogether.

“No! Please!” Lemlift dashed to the girl, tackling her to the ground, impacting the loose basalt rocks that formed a beach for the underground lake. “Lemlift! Wake up!” She was too weak to fight off the Lift clan halfling.

The sound of armor clanking moved closer, disturbing the show. “What are you? What did you do to him?”

Sara turned to the young man, his weapon drawn, stance improper. “You do not deserve to wield that sword for the Kingdom of Altalour.” She scowled. The boy never should have ventured this far into monster infested caverns with such a sorry excuse for martial training. “I will strip you of that sword not only so you no longer embarrass yourself, but so you never humiliate the king and his name with your shoddy swordsmanship.”

Radan grunted as he thrust forward, blade pointed at where the devil’s heart should be.

Sidestepping the blow, Sarakiel laughed, “Boy. I told you, put down your weapon.”

At parity, the knight turned to look at the halfling now stripping the robe off of the cleric. As he began to step towards that direction, the succubus struck. Channeling some of her last drops of mana into the spell, the armored swordsman stopped in his place.

“Now…” She eased up, sauntering over to her second puppet, looking over to ensure she still had a grasp over the first. “Do as I said and drop your sword, boy.”

With the clattering of the weapon hitting the ground, Sarakiel felt power. Power to take back what Merle had stolen away. Power that only this form could provide. Power that needed more mana.

Thankfully, she had two strapping young lads before her, rich with the sweet nectar her body was made to extract. More importantly, she had someone to witness and report to Merle.

“Good…” Sara purred, as her loins stirred. It would not be enough just to watch, she needed to take in some mana herself, especially after using it in such a way where she should have been empty by now. “Now, come to me, boy. Indulge in your desires…”

“Rascal! Radan! Please!” The deacon called out, now as naked as the succubus. Her blond hair was a mess as she drenched in sweat, trying for her escape still. She appeared more developed than the robes let on, something for the first charmed victim to grab onto. “Fight her, Radan! You can resist her spell!”

Sara perched on the rock she was to be beheaded on, her new boy toy clinging to her form. He desperately sucked on her nipples as if he was starving as well. She was ready to experience it all, but she saw an opportunity to kickstart revenge plan first. “Lemlift, please… Give our friend a better seat for the show.” She smiled deviously.

Still holding the girl, the halfling lifted her and placed her chin on the rock, mere inches away from the succubus’s hungry pussy. His tight muscles drew Sara’s eyes, the girl's screams reminding her of when she was feared the world over as the Duke of Steel.

“No! Stop! Rascal, wake up!"

“Now…” The tempress turned her attention to the young tallman excitedly sucking on her erect nipples. Steams of fluid ran down the rock as she was excited to feast. “Radan, was it? What would you like to do with me?” She asked innocently, holding his face between her manicured nails.

In the light of the dropped torch she could see the armored man’s face more clearly: his slate gray hair most likely came from House Spearfell. Light freckles dotted his cheeks flushed with desire, placing him possibly around his late teens, around the same age as the deacon.

Normally a piercing blue, his eyes were heavy with both the spell and lust. His erection looked like it hurt being contained in his leather pants underneath his iron plate. Watching the nude cleric being forced to watch was exciting for the young man himself.

“Why don’t you take off your pants, then?” She asked.

Stepping away from the succubus, she looked him over once more. “Twelve hells, I must have seen you before somewhere…” She muttered. She felt like the answer was right there, but her mind raced at the thought of one thing at the moment. He was now a piece of meat for her to finally embrace her womanhood on and drain of his mana.

Dropping his armor and the clothes, the succubus began to rub her drenched pussy in excitement. Her instincts pushed aside all rationale and caused her to hunger beyond all belief.

Sarakiel leaned back on the rock, lifting her legs. Her hole was ready to experience it’s first time doing what it was made to do.

It’s first raw dick.

“Give it to me…” The succubus groaned, her mouth watering as she leaned back and held her legs up. Her breasts laid on each side of her. She wanted to see her first time.

Part of her reneged on such a decision, but she threw out the last of her masculinity when she begged for them not to kill her. And now they were her playthings.

He rubbed his young erect cockhead on her slit. Her juices coated him as a welcome sign, accepting and anticipating him. She guided him to the hole, setting him up to thrust them both into their first time.

“Hrrkk!” He began to slide inside, almost causing her to cum right away. He was nowhere near as big as the cucumber, but he did not have to be. The heat of man’s erect dick added a new dimension to this experience. His shape was fresh and exciting.

Her legs wrapped around his tight butt as he pumped in and out of her.

It was a sensation she never knew she wanted. A spot she never knew was empty was being filled by someone looking to make her feel good. She gently stroked the cheek of the man grunting and focusing as he rammed her. Never as a man could she think she could experience anything like this. Hell, she was not sure any human could experience this unrestrained carnal pleasure essential for her survival. Sex was fun before, but this was life changing…

She admired his white dick working in and out of her dark puss. Looking over to her captive, she saw the young woman enraptured by the process as well. “Yes…” She groaned as he accidentally stumbled into the right spot, “Right there…! Riiight there!”

Sara felt his inexperience, but thankfully, he found a spot that lifted her higher. The sounds of the cave faded as he worked that spot with precision. Every thrust sent her thoughts further and further away, her pesky thoughts of somehow still remaining a man vanishing. The head of his cock teased and teased the spot, causing her to reflexively lean back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. And just as she was almost at the peak…

She felt warmth throughout her lower stomach.

His thrusts slowed down as he panted. The erect dick growing softer and softer inside her, it’s job finished.

But she was not.

“No! Bad!” The boy shuttered as he began to pull out, leaving behind his seed. But she wanted more. She wanted to fully reach where she was going. “You’re not done yet!”

Quickly remembering what the witch said, she scrambled up and locked lips with the young knight. Her saliva had a purpose, she was going to use it today.

A nice sensation filled her, but it was nowhere near the heights she was just thrown off of. The succubus grabbed the now flaccid penis and rubbed it gently, still drenched in both of their juices. “Keep going… You don’t want to disappoint me now, hmmm?”

The boy’s face remained slack, never once changing during the process. Looking over, it appeared the cleric continued to stare, tears streaking down her face, watching her friends being controlled against their will and forced to obey this monster.

“Are you jealous, girl? You could be having fun like this too, if you want…”

Sara reveled in the control. She kept the girl scared but able-bodied, a messenger she had made time and time again when preparing for the next conquest. Someone who made sure to deliver their message to their superior, inspire them to become hellbent to kill the man who took it all and cut them down amidst their brutal anger.

“Come on, boy…” She pushed him into her neck and worked him down, “Be a man and make me…” she exhaled at the thought, “...a woman.”

Rubbing his lips down her body to just above her still dripping pussy, the boy’s erection sprung back to life. “The joys of youth.” Sarakiel whispered to herself excitedly, remembering her first time but on the other side.

Reentering her, she picked up close to where she left off. His instrument worked in and out of her, as she squeezed down on his dick, trying to milk him once more. Slapping sounds gave way to sloshing noises, her pussy drenched in both of their cum.

Hunger took over. Fear took over. The ghost of the man she was looking on in abject horror. But Samuel was dead.

“Yes! Yes…!” She pushed him down on the rock and straddled herself on his dick, reminding her of that night before with the cucumber. She slid up and down his cock, stroking his toned chest.

Sara felt him inside her, his shape filled her insides, pumping in and out of her hungry hole. Their bodily fluids sprayed every whichaway, careless about everything else aside from feeling good.

Bella had no choice but to be sprayed as well, given her proximity and forced position to watch the two have such bestial intercourse.

Warmth filled her, but he maintained his shape. More than just his semen was being drained. Each thrust could be heard through the cave, her massive tits slapping carelessly against her body, her grunts growing higher and higher in pitch.

“Wait- Wait a minute,” she looked down at the lordling’s face in the light, it finally hit her, “You’re! You’re-!”

Her knees buckled as she took him down to the root. Her stomach tightened as a new warm sensation filled it.

“Ah! Ahhhhh!” She screamed as she finally reached climax. Her pussy gripped his dick, milking him, as another shot of semen coated her inner walls. Sounds of his cum hitting the rocks below was the only thing she heard as she tucked into a ball on his chest. Her main body's mouth quivered in excitement, full and delighted at the meal.

The warmth faded from his body quickly.

- - - -

It took a few minutes, but she finally came down from her high.

Heavily panting, she brushed Radan’s, or as she knew him from her tutelage, Rascal Spearfell’s, short gray bangs. “You were always shit with the sword…” She mumbled, finally hopping off of her first ride.

A twinge of regret hung in the back of her mind, but it quickly dissipated as she saw a different kind of sword before her.

“What- what did you do to him?!” The halfling yelled, standing in his leathers, sword drawn at the monster. The magelight was long gone, it’s caster unconscious. The few embers of the discarded torch provided barely enough for their eyes to perceive one another.

Sara shifted her stance to close her legs better. She wanted to keep every last drop of the knight’s essence inside her. “What did I do to him?” Her facade shifted from confusion to an alluring grin, “Why, I did to him what you were planning to do to me…"

Sounds of sobbing slowly filled the cavern. The cleric sat on the ground, naked and crying. Her chin was bleeding due to her forceful friend making her watch.

“What- What are you, you horrid monster?!” Lemlift’s face twisted as he slowly began to put the pieces together.

Samuel, before, found a perverse pleasure in murder of families, leading his foes to fight more reckless. Sarakiel seemed to have found a similar pleasure of a different variety.

The fighter’s weapon lifted higher, prepared to fell the monster that stood before him, his friend’s life inside the creature. “Bella! Bella, get up! You have to help me! It’s-!” He turned to the girl, panicking. She flinched at his sudden movement, her genuine fear was palpable. “Bella, it’s me! I’m here! Pick up your staff and cast something to kill this bit-”

Sara did not want to hear anymore.

The halfling’s face drooped once more, causing the girl to scramble to her feet, somehow finding the energy to scream again. Once more, Lemlift jumped on the cleric, her screams turned into abject terror.

Reveling in the fear of her murderer’s accomplice, the succubus chuckled. She raised a hand, prompting the halfling to stand up and begin stripping.

“I’ll let you go,” Sarakiel sat back on the rock, pushing the corpse of Radan Spearfell to the ground, his body lifeless, drained of it’s purpose. The nude halfling became erect and lazily hobbled to his new master, grasping on her as he begged for the same treatment the knight had just received. “But promise me this, deacon. I want the Pontifex to know that Samuel Proudmane may be dead, but the devil Sarakiel has risen in his place.”

 

World notes: Quintessentialism Structure

As one of the world's earliest religions, Quintessentialism had undergone a number of structural changes over the past few millennia. Those who wish to devote their lives to reverence of the goddesses are afforded certain rights and responsibilities as they ascend the chain of command.

Starting on the bottom, Students devote most of their days understanding not only the various religious texts, but their histories and context. Codices exist to coalesce the various sources of divinely inspired teachings and explanations, but outside of Bishops, these texts are far too large for copies to practically be scribed. As such, it is a part of a Student's personal journey to not only study the currently existing texts, but to possibly find an unknown text that may expand the canon.

While still undergoing their studies, Deacons are devoted to the acts of service of the congregation. As such, they may leave the monasteries and either devote their time to a local church or offer their divine aid to travelling parties seeking to rid the world of demonic influence.

Elders return to the monastery to teach Students as well as research further into the canon and candidate entries for addition. With their practical experience behind them, they often hold a greater understanding of the goddesses and the mysteries that lie beyond The Great Veil.

Bishops are elected by rulers to either lead in a monastery or city and ensure their prosperity. With a prerequisite of having spoken to one of the goddesses or God Emperor while under a council of currently acting Bishops, their authority is considered absolute short of the Pontifex.

The Pontifex is the highest peak in Quintessentialism. The Pontifex must have all of the currently accepted canon memorized, have spoken to all 5 currently existing gods under council and be unanimously accepted by all rulers of practicing civilizations around the world. Usually an appointment for life, The Pontifex is considered immortal outside of old age, having traded all human desires for divine protection. In the case of a lapse of proper candidates, a substitute may take the seat if they meet most of the above conditions.

Quintessentialism is practiced by most of the general populace, due to it's general acceptance of all races, origins and social status, with the smallest demographic appearing in Svetania. The Pontifex is often considered the single-most politically powerful person in the world by the common man.


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