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Kliff was alone after he had finished clearing away the bow knights and arcanists that had guarded the west-most garrison. His body was sore and the many injuries he had endured would've taken a toll on the exhausted mage, if not for the enchanted ring he wore slowly fixing him up. "I guess I should be thanking you for this Mage's Ring, huh?" he mused as he gazed down at the horned woman that was currently servicing him.
He smirked as he looked into her eye; her dull blue pool that blazed with the clashing fires of hatred and lust. Whatever raw anger the enthralled witch could muster was contrasted by the drool and precum that covered her face and the shudders of pleasure that worked its way through her body. Once just the sight of her telltale mask would be enough to strike fear and terror into the hearts of men and women. All of Rigel knew and dreaded her, and it was only the foolish pact that Jedah had made with Rudolf that kept her from turning her powers against the empire that housed her and her Faithful. Yet here she was now; giving sloppy fellatio to some brat from the Zofian sticks.
"You've gotten pretty good at this you know; I guess our nightly practice sessions are paying off." Kliff taunted her, not even concerned at the fact she currently had his dick between her lips. "Try to work your tongue a little more; your letting it all go to waste just focusing on the top like that." He chided the witch, partially relishing the look of sheer hatred that marred her face. Still, she obeyed his wishes and brought her tongue down his erection, lathering the sensitive member with her spit. The young mage hissed as the cold air impacted his penis, further compounded by the witch's ministrations.
'Who would've thought that a little experimentation would bear such fruits?' Kilff mused as he recalled the scenario of events that led to this pleasurable contract…
Tattarah crumpled as the effects of their onslaught took its toll. Behind them; the enraptured girl Delthea similarly fell, though not from wounds. While the rest were rushing to the collapsed young mage, Kliff noticed the amulet that was grasped in his writhing hand; the way it glowed with the same intense light that had surrounded Delthea…
It was easy enough to slip the dying man's notes into his own robes. The rest were so focused on Delthea's safety that they weren't paying attention to Tattarah in the slightest. He'd give them a glance over and report his findings to Alm and Lukas later that night.
Kliff was pragmatic; he knew that the further they got, the more deadly the magic of the Duma Faithful was getting. The Death spell that nearly killed Clive was a testament to his fears. So it only made sense to figure out how to counter these dangerous foul magic users. Yet despite that, the former leader of the Deliverance wasn't as receptive to the villager's proposal. He was confident that their forces could overcome any magical opposition with strategy and guile. Because Mila only knows how well they could strategically circumvent that field of Terrors that nearly consumed their entire damn army.
Luckily for him, Alm and Lukas were more than willing to humor his notions. Hell, the noble knight was eager to hear Kliff's findings whenever he found some new tricks from the cultists. It was thanks to that their impromptu trip into Fear Mountain could bear fruit; the means to translate Tattarah's writings…
The mage was snapped out of his thoughts as he felt his captive engulf his head and couldn't contain himself from moaning in approval. It had taken a few weeks, but he'd finally instilled in her the boundaries of what he expected and what she couldn't do. It made all those minor injuries worth it as he watched her roll her head and lather his glans with her tongue, just the way he wanted it. And he'd give her credit; turns out that he liked the sensation of her teeth lightly, LIGHTLY, grazing the sensitive skin of his dick.
"Why don't we give your jaw a rest and put those tits to work." Kliff suggested. He could practically hear the epoch of slander and curses that wished to pass her violet lips. Yet even as her mouth popped off his crown, no words were said. Instead she kept her sole eye locked on him and silently wish his demise as her manicured fingers deftly undid her skimpy top, letting her generous cleavage free inside her poor excuse for a robe. Despite his power trip, the young man could appreciate her sensual body, even if he knew it was at the cost of Mila only knows how many sacrificed maidens. Still, she was in no position to ever threaten another innocent, so what was the harm of a little payback?
He settled himself against the wall as she squeezed her luscious tits against his swollen dick. Her earlier ministrations had made it nice and slick, cutting back on the friction that could make such actions unpleasant and leaving only the warm embrace of her hellishly fine pillows. The way her manicured nails lightly grazed his sensitive cock helped to entice him further; another accidental arousal from not being careful with his words.
"Damn, are you sure you've not put out in almost ninety years? You certainly know what your doing." Kliff stressed out between his moans of pleasure. The witch had alternated from her original pattern of stroking the length to alternating; one going up and one going down. Despite the unearthly tone of her skin, there was no denying the warmth that wafted off of her sensual body. To be honest, the only ugly feature about her was the look of hatred that she was leveling against him.
"Oh will you drop the silent act? Just keep your voice down; wouldn't want any of my friends to hear you, yeah?" he inquired, his last statement carrying a certain edge that would make a lesser buckle. With that declaration, the cap came off as the witch let out a sharp breath before venting hours-DAYS, of bile and vitriol.
"…You inconsequential WORM. The moment you falter, I will put you through hells the likes of which even the mighty Duma would balk. I will put the fear of Medusa in you. Even as you scream the name Nuibaba, you will be robbed of merciful death."
"Nuibaba is dead; her mansion was put to torch, her work scattered to the four winds, and her soul in the clutches of Medusa. All you are is a fragment of that bitch; a body without a soul, a memory of a monster." He reminded her, knowing that she was too engulfed in rage to properly respond. Indeed, she continued as if she'd not even heard him.
"I WILL be released, child. And when I am, you will watch as I tear your little friends to pieces. You will be powerless to watch as I send wave after wave of Terrors to BREAK them; rip the men limb from limb and fuck those little quims until they beg for cum more-so than air or the grave. Starting with that Paladin bitch…"
"If that's what you're going to spout out, perhaps the gift of speech is wasted on you. I'll put your mouth to better use." Kliff declared as he angrily gripped her horns and forced his entire length into her mouth. He held her in place; relishing the sensation of her protesting throat desperately writhing for air as well as the flickers of her tongue on the bottom of his cock. He'd humor her hollow threats against him, but not his friends, and CERTAINLY not the likes of Lady Mathidla. Without regard for her well-being, Kliff pushed her head off his cock, leaving just the head in the vacuum of her lips before slamming her back down.
The mage relished the sounds of her gagging and choking as he used her horns to spear her throat. The sight of her crocodile tears as he abused her like a common whore only served to arouse him. Kliff wasn't a sadist; he didn't take joy in the suffering of others, least of all the soldiers that he'd been forced to unleash arcane fury upon, despite the number of cynical biting quips he let out. But to do this to her; to the remnant of the monster that had caused so much suffering to others, made his punishment an act of retribution. The others might've been fine with Nuibaba's death and destroying her horrible mansion, but not him…
Mathilda struggled to hold herself atop her mighty horse, the steed in a similar plight. They'd weathered Nuibaba's dreaded Medusa pact, but had managed to severely wound the witch with her mighty lance. Not enough to kill her like they'd hoped, but still enough to cause her great pain and a short of breath. It was this scene that Kliff and Gray had walked into from their arduous trek up the steep side of the manor.
Gray made a beeline to the Cantor that had been hassling him with Gargoyles for the past few hours and cut the withered bastard down with his lightning sword. Kliff calculated that with the Mage Ring he'd borrowed from Delthea, he could JUST reach Nuibaba with his thunder spell. The downside was he wasn't confident that his magic would be enough to kill her, and if it wasn't, then she'd have ample time to return the favor. Unless his little trinket worked...
It was meant to turn the caster's power against them; using what magic they had left to trap their own abilities. Not a permanent solution, but hopefully just long enough for the others to come in and sort out the situation. But even as he mustered the arcane fury to conjure his lightning, Kliff could feel that there was something more; something else that was being drawn from the warding charm...
"Fuck…that was a mistake." Kliff wheezed as he relinquished his grip on her horns. He didn't even spare a glance at the deep welts from where his grip tightened around the bony appendages. Beneath him, the witch had collapsed and was simultaneously drooling and coughing from his torrent of seed. He was too drained to even order her dismissal; leaving her to wheeze and wretch in a pool of his spawn.
While he didn't regret his actions against her, there was still the oversight of his recovering body. He didn't notice that his aggressive skull-fucking had the detriment to tear open his wounds and cause him to lose an alarming amount of blood. It wasn't until he'd slammed his dick down her throat and practically drowned her with his cum that the adrenaline wore off and he collapsed. He could make out Nuibaba through his squinted eyes as she got on all fours and coughed up some of his spunk on the cold tile floor. He didn't need to see her face to know that she was relishing his pain; that even with the brutal mouth-rape he'd just forced on her, the notion that he'd bleed out would be enough for her to get the last laugh.
"Swallow. Every last drop, and then lick up what you spit out from the floor." He hissed, trying to minimize his movements so the Mage Ring could start healing him. It would take longer now, which carried it's own share of risks. A quick glance out the window confirmed that Forsyth was marching his way down the path, moving to engage with the Baron that guarded the entryway to the fortress. Python must've finally taken out the arcanist and bow knight that occupied the other garrison, and for Forsyth to be marching meant the rest of the garrisons were also cleared and the charge had begun. All of that meaning that he'd need to get in position soon… oh, and the fact that it was entirely possible that Tatiana would send aid and reveal his magical slave…
His words compelled her, even as every vestige of her being screamed in protest. She inwardly cringed as the last of his rancid seed passed her throat, and nearly retched as her body forced her to start licking her own spunk-soaked tits. She berated her body for being so easily twisted by mundane pleasures, even if she could easily blame the icy winds for her erect nipples. Despite the bravado and venom she spewed; the attempts to hold herself with dignity, she knew that her wretched situation was absolute.
The spell the brat had inadvertently used had bound her to this mortal plane; mixing with her meticulous craft-work that made her prison charm so effective. It meant that whoever held her amulet would control her, and every word uttered would be law. Nuibaba, or rather what was left of her, was entrapped by this cursed spit of rock and at the behest of a bumpkin over a century her junior, who's first order was for her to forever forsake her heels. To make her miserable situation more intolerable, her pact with Medusa was broken; meaning she couldn't rely on her Matron's aid after the Undead Queen had claimed her soul…
So there she was; barefoot, a beaten and broken shell of her former glory, trying to keep from retching as she ran her tongue along the dirty ground. She had long since lost the notion of weeping; of feeling despair or lamentation for her lot in life. That all went out the window after she'd carved up the sixth…'seventh?' village strumpet that begged the witch; first for liberation, then for death. All she had left was rage; rage and the sadistic pleasure that came from causing suffering and pain, like the idiot boy that put himself closer to death in an attempt to humble her.
"Feeling cheeky? Heal me; with your mouth." He ordered. That got a desired reaction as she paused mid-lick, her twisted amusement replaced with outrage. One of the first things he'd done was find out what magic she still had; Fortify was still one of them. It had been quite useful in the past to let him rapidly recover what would take his ring hours to fix. Not to mention some earlier experiments revealed that close contact made the spells more effective… well, after inadvertently walking by Tatiana 'healing' her beloved Ezekiel in such a manner.
She didn't move an inch; a testament that his order wasn't as absolute as it needed to be. "Did I speak unclearly? Heal. Me." He stressed, tiredly pointing to her and then to his withered junk. Her motions forward meant that his words rang true. But he wasn't satisfied with the idea of her pending punishment; no she deserved an EXTRA layer to her personal hell.
"Wait. Your clothes: off." Kliff added. Nuibaba froze mid-step even as her irate visage darkened further. She would've chewed him out; screamed at him until her voice was hoarse, but he had bid her silent. "Be quick about it; I'm on a tight schedule here." He barked, having no interest in her poor attempts to entice him. Turns out there were limitations of how many 'new tricks' he could teach this old bitch.
With the Ring giving him just enough energy to focus again, he openly gawked at her supernaturally attained body. No matter how many 'lonely' nights he'd spent, he never tired of seeing her body. He didn't mind the unearthly tone of her skin, her pointed ears, or even the horns that jutted out of the top of her head. If he was being honest, traits like that were actually arousing to him; like the wicked succubi that were in the books his mother tried to hide. The fact she was his and his alone despite her protests only aided the resurrection of his arousal… well that and a fetish for satin like her gloves or her manicured feet.
Nuibaba suppressed a shudder as she let her robes fall to her feet. She'd not bother to speculate if the culprit was her circumstances or the environment; only that her skin was plagued with goose flesh. Now bare of all, she couldn't even try to protect her modesty like some coy harlot; her master's words forbid it. Satisfied with her actions, Kliff gestured her forward to begin her lewd healing. The witch wordlessly sunk to her knees and once again engulfed his cock as a green light began to surround them.
The young man sighed in content and pleasure as he watched her glowing green lips surround his dick. The way she faced him, he could make out her perfect erect tits and even more perfect ass jutting out behind her faded rose hair. The look of hate from her eye was a welcome sight; one that he'd come to admire and relish since their first night behind the Inn at the Rigelian Village, or during the eruption at the Dragon's Maw. Yet for all the times he'd throat-fucked her, or violated her wicked cauldron, he'd never gotten a chance to take her final hole.
One day he'd plunder her for her last treasure; the puckered rose that no man had ever touched. Perhaps tonight after he'd retired if they made it out of this battle alive. But for now, Kliff would let her work her wicked magic; rejuvenating his body at the cost of her severed life-force. If she was good, maybe he'd let her eat the hard bread that was on the table nearby. He still had some time before he'd be needed for his part of the plan against that craven turncoat Slayde…
Kind of forgot about this one until I noticed the recent surge of interest on AO3. I am working on a second chapter (which I'll try to remember to post at the same time as it goes up on AO3), so hope you look forward to that. I was at a loss for a while of how I wanted to follow up (I felt like just leading into that night would be kind of boring and not much of a challenge), but got a recent surge of creativity. Just keep an eye out in the future.