Prologue, Part 8

Rysanial presses her back against you, her body undulating with need sparked by the promise you just made to her. You're only too happy to give her what she wants... but you decide to do it in a way that will let you focus the attention of your mistress on the display as well. "I did have a few other questions," you say. "Do you think we could go over them while we wait?"

"Of course!" the young Witch Queen replies quickly, seizing on what she thinks is the opportunity to move to a safer area. "What would you like to know abou—"

But her voice breaks off, her eyes bulging as, while she's talking, you casually run your left hand up Rysanial's front, under her skimpy top, and grope her breast. The succubus responds with a long, throaty moan, her eyes closing as she savors her molestation. "To start with, I'd like to know more about these heroines we'll be facing," you say calmly, as you knead the demoness' soft flesh. "Just how committed are they to coming after you?"

The Witch Queen gapes, her mouth making small, soundless motions as she watches you have your way with Rysanial. Soon you add your other hand, mauling both her breasts as your mistress tries to form enough coherent thoughts to reply. "They're... they're... very... committed..." she finally manages to squeak out in reply. "They... they won't ever stop coming—"

But she breaks off again in mortification, as—when she repeats the word "coming" that you primed her with—you pinch Rysanial's nipples, causing the succubus' back to arch as she screams in ecstasy under your supernatural touch. The Witch Queen's mouth snaps shut, her face burning scarlet.

"But why?" you muse thoughtfully. "What, exactly, has them so worked up that they'd go to all this trouble to attack you?" As you ask the question, your right hand slowly slides down Rysanial's body, moving lower and lower. The girl's gaze follows it, transfixed.

"Because... I'm... the Witch Queen..." she says. You have to hand it to her, she's doing her best to ignore the erotic display and answer the very important questions you're asking. Her best isn't very good, granted, but she's still doing her best. Even though it looks as though she might flee at any moment—either that, or just combust where she stands in an explosion of pure embarrassment. "I'm... the Chosen One of the evil goddess Melca. As long... as long as I sit on the throne of Kovora... I'm a threat to—"

But her voice breaks off again as your hand slips underneath Rysanial's thong and you begin to expertly finger her, working her clit and thrusting your fingers deep into her needy pussy. The succubus' cries become even more unhinged, and her movements degenerate into animalistic bucking.

"And there's no room for negotiation?" you ask, your level voice cutting through the debauched din. "These heroines wouldn't just accept a surrender, or terms of peace?"

"It's... not that..." the girl admits, her mortified voice barely even audible over Rysanial's screams. "The one time I faced their leader in person... the only reason I got away was because she spent too much time pleading with me to leave Melca's service. Instead of just... killing me when she had the chance. She... probably won't make that mistake again."

Interesting. And from the tone in your mistress' voice as she relates that little story... you're pretty sure she wishes she could have taken the heroine up on her offer. Which obviously raises the question of why she didn't. But you have a suspicion that is a question best asked under... different circumstances.

Instead, you pick up the pace at which you're fingering Rysanial, driving her even deeper into her frenzy, until she's thrashing in your arms, her screams turning into anguished, wordless pleas for release. The Witch Queen, meanwhile, clutches her staff so hard that her knuckles turn white, and you notice her start to shift uncomfortably in place.

Then, finally, you allow Rysanial over the edge. As your fingers stab even deeper than before, her back arches, her toes curling as she spasms, letting out one last scream of pure bliss. Then, once she finishes riding out her orgasm, she crumples back into your arms, a boneless, quivering wreck.

Even so, she finds the strength to slowly lift her head, looking the Witch Queen right in the eye with a knowing, sultry smile. "Trust me, mistress," she murmurs. "When he takes you with his cock... it's even better."

And that little bit of extra teasing is too much for your new owner. "I... I... I have to go!" the girl blurts out, turning and bolting for the stairs. Such is her frantic haste that she accidentally steps on the edge of her own slightly-too-large robes, pitching forward and almost falling as she struggles for balance in mid-run. Still she manages to make it to the stairs, vanishing down them as fast as she can go, leaving the two of you alone.

After a few seconds of silence, after even the footfalls of the Witch Queen's flight have faded, Rysanial turns to look up at you. "She's adorable," the succubus breathes. "Tell me you have a plan to get her into bed with us."

"Patience," you reply. "These heroines are the most immediate concern... and some things are better savored slowly and gradually anyway."

Any further discussion, however, is curtailed as you hear footsteps ascending the stairs again. Eventually the maid, Kelissa, comes back into view, carrying your new clothes. She looks between the two of you, especially the new demon. You can see newfound mistrust of you—and worry for her mistress—in her cold, stony expression. Still, when she speaks, she doesn't voice any direct disapproval, though it's obvious in every word.

"Her majesty has gone to her chambers to compose herself," she says. "She has requested that I guide you to your meeting with our spymaster—for which we are already late. Her majesty will join us once she is recovered from your... display." With that, she offers you the garments she went to fetch.

They feel a lot better as you put them on than the ragged outfit you had back in the Second Circle, that's for sure. Tough, practical, but with a touch of style to them. Kelissa has a good eye. To your surprise, she even found time to cut some simple slits into the back of the shirt, properly sized so that your wings can fit through. A shame your teasing of her queen has made her less likely to trust you; such reliable help is hard to find.

Once you are dressed, the three of you set off. You follow the maid down the stairs of the tower for quite some time, and finally emerge out into the central courtyard of the immense fortress. Here, you can see a great many people moving back and forth on various tasks. Some of them are humans or the occasional elf, dressed in servants' clothes and on some errand, but the majority of them are orcs, clad in ramshackle armor and training with a wide variety of weapons.

The shortest of the broad-shouldered, green-skinned warriors is a head taller than you, and you are not a short creature yourself. Any one of their muscular frames looks capable of ripping a man limb from limb, should they so choose. And, almost immediately as you emerge from the tower, a group of over a dozen of them move to intercept you.

Leading the group is an older orc, his skin weathered and wrinkled with age, his body slightly hunched. That doesn't put you at ease about him, however. If these orcs live like most of their kin in worlds across the Material Plane, actually reaching such an advanced age shows that this one is not to be trifled with.

You notice Kelissa tensing as the group approaches. Her hands clench involuntarily, but even as the orcs spread out in a semi-circle around you, her voice remains steady. "Warchief Varthurg," she says. "To what do we owe the honor of this visit?"

Varthurg surveys your group. "Where is the Witch Queen?" he growls, when he realizes that no more of you are emerging from the tower.

Interesting. He knew that the queen would be coming this way at this time, and was waiting for her. But the sheer chance of your spur-of-the-moment teasing has thrown his plan off. Kelissa speaks up. "Her majesty's schedule is not your concern, Warchief," she says. "If you desire an audience with her, please inform me, and her majesty will arrange it at her convenience."

"Bah!" Varthurg makes an angry sweep of his large hand, his voice raising in volume. "We will not be put off again! This queen hides from us in her weakness, just as she holds us back in her weakness! Ordering us not to raid, ordering us to cower here in our own lands... we will not tolerate this disgrace forever!"

All other nearby movement slows to a stop, as low, angry rumblings of agreement start to come from the other soldiers in the courtyard. It's obvious that Varthurg isn't just talking to Kelissa. This is all a scene, intended for the watching troops to see. That was why he wanted to spring it on the queen out here, instead of in some audience chamber.

"She is your goddess' Chosen One," Kelissa says, her voice tight. "Do you deny that?"

"The auguries of Melca's displeasure have been seen time and again!" shouts back Varthurg. "It will not be long before that cringing child is rejected utterly!"

"But she hasn't been rejected," replies Kelissa. "Not yet. Maybe your goddess sees something that you don't."

Varthurg bares his tusks at her, snarling at the human woman who dares defy him to his face. Your eyes, meanwhile, sweep across the courtyard. You had wondered how a girl as kind as your mistress was managing to keep control over an evil empire filled with violent orcs. The answer, in retrospect, is obvious. She isn't.

Not only are the forces of righteousness marshaling themselves to kill her, but her own army is right on the brink of mutiny. And from the sound of it, the goddess who—somehow—put her into this situation is starting to turn against her as well. In this whole, entire world, the closest things that girl has to allies are probably the three of you standing right here.

One loyal maid, and two demons from Hell.

Meanwhile, an ugly smile crosses Varthurg's face. He stabs a finger straight toward Kelissa. "Well then, wench," he growls. "If your queen is so determined to prevent us from raiding... then surely you will help make up the difference? If we cannot take new slaves from the other kingdoms... then why is the queen keeping such prime stock for herself? At the same time she denies us!"

The angry rumbling from the orcs starts to turn into shouting, their outrage building in response to their Warchief's words. Cries of "It's not fair!" and "Fuck her! Fuck her!" build in volume.

Kelissa pales, suddenly looking very small. Varthurg's vicious smile only gets wider. "Boy!" he barks out in a dismissive, commanding tone. "Show this little cunt the one thing she's good for."

In response, an orc steps forward out of the press of warriors behind his father. Where Varthurg is elderly, this is an orc in the very prime of his life. However, you notice that he does not look particularly enthused at being used as a prop for his father's grandstanding so that Varthurg can continue haranguing the soldiers without interruption. Some tension between them, you wonder?

You don't know how much of this is simple revenge on Varthurg's part for Kelissa's defiance, and how much is part of a larger plan, but it has a certain brutal elegance to it. He may not be able to attack the Witch Queen directly, but he clearly despises what she's doing, and is trying to enflame the tensions between the queen and her army. And right now, he has them frothing at the mouth to see Kelissa raped.

You start to take a step forward, intent on taking control of the situation... only for the maid to grab you by the arm. "Don't try to stop them," she whispers, not looking you in the eye. Despite her brave words, you can feel her hand trembling as she holds onto you. "Please. That's just what he wants. Another excuse to paint the queen as their enemy. I'd rather die than help that bastard hurt her majesty. This is..." She swallows. "This is nothing. Just... don't tell the queen what I had to do."

You weigh your options. Even as stacked against you as this situation is, you're still confident that you're skilled enough with your words to defuse it. Or at least, defuse it enough to get the three of you through in one piece... for today. It probably wouldn't do as much to lower the orcs' overall resentment—leaving the army in large part hostile to you, and possibly leading to other confrontations in the future—but Kelissa would be unhurt.

On the other hand, you have to admit that you could probably do a lot more to undercut Varthurg's position and swing the army to your side if you did let Kelissa go through with her decision... and built on that to win traction before addressing the orcs yourself.

Or as a third possibility... You glance down at the sigil on your right palm. Then you look over at Varthurg's son. If you let Kelissa give herself to him, you could try to talk him into accepting a Corruptive Boon as part of the exchange. Not as immediately impactful on the army itself as focusing on a big speech, perhaps... but if you could get your hooks into the Warchief's discontented son, who knows where that could lead?

Not to mention that, with the right enhancements from the Corruptive Boon—and perhaps a little meddling on your part—not just the orc, but even Kelissa might find her experience to be... a bit more enjoyable than she expects. And that could open up some interesting options as well.

"Well?" shouts Varthurg, continuing to work the crowd of orcs into a lather. "Will the queen's bitch make up for her mistress' greed in hoarding her, while denying us the chance to hunt for ourselves? Will she?"