Blood Ties, Part 39

You give Ghazar's younger sister a long, evaluating look. Then, finally, you speak. "What is your name?"

"Rakhai," is her immediate response, the young woman looking back at you, unflinching.

"Then Rakhai," you say, your palm starting to glow with the light of your Corruptive Boon as you place it on her shoulder. "Do you swear to serve the Witch Queen faithfully? Without any disloyalty? Obeying her orders, and the orders of those she places over you?"

"I swear!" she says, without hesitation.

And with that, your power takes effect. In exchange for her oath, you bestow the full suite of sexual prowess on her, as well as the increased sensitivity and urges. "Then welcome to the Witch Queen's elites," you say. "Any of your friends who also wish to join will have to pass Ghazar's appraisal of their fighting skills... but if they can cut it, I'll bring them in as well."

Rakhai's eyes light up. "Thank you! Thank you, sir! I promise, we won't let you down!"

She follows her brother off toward the barracks. You and Verika continue your search, and it isn't long before you locate Rysanial. She breaks into a smile upon seeing you, then launches herself into your arms. You respond by bending her over and "reacquainting" yourselves with each other—to her delirious delight—while Verika watches, mastrubating.

Eventually you release into her, then pull out. With hardly a pause, Verika kneels before you, cleaning you with her tongue while still fingering herself, even as you talk with your succubus. "What's the latest on the situation with the warchief's son?"

"It could hardly be better," Rysanial says, with satisfied smugness. "I've been tempting him nearly non-stop while you were gone. Reminding him of the pleasure I can give him, pleasure he can never find anywhere else. And I've been belittling him at the same time. Reminding him how he's trapped in his father's shadow."

You nod approvingly, while resting your hand on Verika's bobbing head as she sucks you off with increasing vigor. You'd noticed that the warchief's son was chafing under his father's control even before his humiliation at Rysanial's hands. "How soon until he's ready?"

"I've been keeping him right on the edge for a while now," the demoness says, her eyes alight with mischief. "I was hoping you would get back before everything came to a head. Because if we do this together... I had an idea that could give it even more of an impact."

You listen as Rysanial outlines her plan, including the devious twist that your presence could provide. You offer a few suggestions of your own, until both of you are more than satisfied with the scheme. "Perfect," you say. "Let's talk it over with the others."

You put both hands on Verika's head, pulling her even deeper and releasing. She swallows eagerly, until you've spent your load. Then she rises to her feet, licking her lips, and the three of you return to the Queen's chambers.

Khaytala and Ceriss eventually rejoin you as well, fresh from a fitting with Kelissa. The sorceress is now clad in a long, ravishing black gown, which—especially combined with her tiefling features—allows her to project a truly nefarious air. Perfect for the image you want to cultivate.

Messengers are once again sent out, proclaiming that the Witch Queen has another announcement to make to her citizens. While you're waiting, Rysanial explains her plan again, coaching everyone in their respective parts. Lily is nervous, but the succubus encourages her. Promising that will be their chance to deal with Varthurg, to put an end to the brutal threat he poses.

You spend the rest of the day preparing, knowing how much is at stake. That day passes into the next... until finally the appointed time for the announcement arrives. At that point, there's nothing more you can do to get ready.

Taking a deep breath, Lily walks out onto the balcony from which she will address her people. You stand at her right hand, with Rysanial at her left. As you emerge, you see the teeming horde packed into the fortress courtyard, all of them looking up with bated breath for the latest news. The sounds of muttered conversation swell up from the throng below, most of them members of the army.

Even this is far from the full scope of Kovora's forces. But it should be more than enough for word of what happens here to spread like wildfire through the ranks. You glance over at Rysanial, the two of you sharing a quick look. It reminds you of that first time you worked together, shortly after arriving in this world. Turning Varthurg's earlier attempt to disgrace the queen back on him.

Now, with any luck, the two of you will do it once again. This time for even greater stakes.

Lily walks to the edge of the balcony, then brings her staff down with an echoing crash that draws everyone's attention to her. "People of Kovora!" she calls out, her voice booming with magically-amplified volume. "I come before you today to display yet another fruit of our campaign against the so-called 'heroines'. I come before you today to show you another one of our enemies, now corrupted and enslaved by the power of Hell! I come before you today to present Ceriss Zylnerios! Kovora's latest victory!"

Loud cheers break out through the assembled throng as Ceriss walks into view and kneels before the Witch Queen. Lily continues her speech, inspiring her watching troops with fresh hope. You, however, are watching the Warchief out of the corner of your eye.

As expected, Varthurg is near the front of the assembled throng, with his son close by. The elder of the two orcs is quietly seething, clearly furious that the "soft" queen he despises has another victory to boast about. Unless he can sour the victory somehow, this will be another crushing blow against his faction.

His son, meanwhile is only looking at Rysanial. The obsession you saw before—the raw, aching need for her—is even stronger now. Whatever temptations Rysanial has been taunting him with while you've been gone, they were clearly effective.

As you predicted, when Lily finally finishes her address, Varthurg steps forward to try and perform some degree of damage control. "Very impressive, your majesty..." he calls out bitterly. "But what about the spy that was captured? You've held her for weeks now! When will you be making an example of her?"

Apparently, this was the best gambit he could come up with. Varthurg is trying to cloud the excitement of the moment by calling everyone's attention back to an issue he knows could still generate bad blood.

Lily, however, is ready for that. "The girl is being dealt with as I see fit," she asserts unflinchingly. The imperial tone that you and Rysanial coached her in how to put on is showing through stronger than ever. "I suggest you focus on your own duties, Warchief. If I ever require your counsel on matters of espionage, I will ask for it."

Varthurg bristles. "That is not enough!" he bellows up at her. "If you continue in this display of weakness, our foes will see and—"

But before he can get in another word, Rysanial acts.

The succubus hops lithely up onto the edge of the balcony, then glides down to land in front of the two orcs. Every eye is glued to her seductive form as it descends, her tail curling around her as her feet touch ground. Then she saunters the remaining distance between them, while fixing the older of the two orcs with a sultry, provocative gaze.

"Did you not hear my mistress the first time?" she calls out, her condescending tone projecting across the courtyard. "Whining about her methods—even as her victories mount—is a pathetic display from someone with so few results of their own. Tell me, how many heroines have you defeated?"

The warchief's lip curls as he towers over Rysanial. "Out of my sight, you little hellspawn. Or I'll crush you where you stand."

But the succubus just flutters her eyelashes at him. "Attacking one of the Witch Queen's servants, just because she relayed you liege's orders? Why that would be treason, my dear Varthurg. And I know you wouldn't do that. But... if you had the courage to challenge me in the same way your son tried to best me... I might accept that." She walks even closer to the older orc, flaunting her body in truly mesmerizing fashion. "Do you wish to lie with me, warchief?"

"No!" shouts the son, shoving his father furiously out of her way. "No, not him! I am the one who must defeat you! I demand a chance to avenge myself! I..." He draws in a quick, ragged breath, trying to hide his desperation. His need. "I... I demand to face you again!"

But Rysanial doesn't even look at him. "You already had your chance, little boy," she says disinterestedly. "And you've not yet given me any reason to think you've grown since then. I'm interested in bedding a warchief now. Not some child too weak to step out of his shadow."

The towering brute flinches at her rebuke. And then he whirls toward his father, eyes bloodshot with desperation, as that one last insult caps off the weeks of psychological manipulation she's spent preparing for this. Building up to this one moment.

"I am not weak!" he roars, though you can hear how desperate his is to prove that to her. How desperate he is to prove that to himself, nearly to the point of madness. "I... If it's a warchief you want, then... then... I challenge Warchief Varthurg to the rite of battle!"

A shocked mutter sweeps through the courtyard, and the older orc's eyes go wild. "D-don't be a fool, boy!" he snarls, though you can detect a sudden uncertainty in his tone. "You can't—"

"As monarch of Kovora, I recognize that a challenge has been given for the position of my warchief," Lily says, her amplified voice cutting off Varthurg's. "I grant my immediate royal approval to this contest. Unless the challenger wishes to back down?"

The son's fists clench... but with so many eyes now on him, there's no way he can just take back his outburst. "I will not back down!" he roars. "I will prove my true worth before you all!"

"Traitorous whelp!" spits Varthurg, looking between his son, Rysanial, the Witch Queen... and you. He's starting to realize how thoroughly you've outmaneuvered him, turning his own strength against him. Exploiting the very weakness in his son that he helped create, with his own plan to brutalize Kelissa in your first meeting.

You can see his mind racing, trying to figure out some way out of this. But it's all happening far too fast. You've prepared for every step of this trap... whereas he's been caught flat-footed.

"Then let Melca's wrath guide the hand of the victor!" says Lily. You can hear her suppressing her distaste with the words, and you can see that her knuckles are white as they grip her staff. No matter how much of a threat Varthurg is to her... no matter what horrible things he's done to the maids under her protection... it's still hard for her to participate in his death like this.

But she doesn't hesitate, nor complain. Instead, she brings her staff down again, the impact echoing out like the stroke of doom.

The orcs part into a wide circle around the father and son, even as the younger of the two pulls a greatsword from his back. His father draws a pair of jagged axes and twirls them, the two orcs circling warily. The onlookers begin to chant, cheering and shouting over each other as excitement grows over this unexpected showdown.

It's the younger orc who makes the first move, launching himself at his father with an overhead strike. The warchief crosses his axes to block, but still staggers under the power of the blow. He disengages one of them, spinning to slash at his opponent's throat, but his son just deflects it on his bracer, then drives his foot into his father's chest in a kick, sending the older orc staggering backward.

Both their eyes are now alight with battle-rage, and they hurl themselves at each other again and again. The warchief is still the cannier fighter, using his years of experience to good effect... but it's not enough to stand against the raw fury of his son's onslaught. Back and forth the battle rages, weapon clashing against weapon, each one of them scoring glancing hits that spill blood on the ground. But the elder orc is flagging. You can see it, plain as day.

As the inevitable realization sinks in, you see Varthurg's own desperation grow. "You cursed fools!" he rages, in-between his panting breaths, in-between the savage exchange of strikes. "Can't you see? That weak little bitch will cast aside everything that makes us who we are! She'll ruin our pride as warriors! Make us into mockeries of ourselves! I could have stopped her! Even dying like true orcs against the heroines would have been better than living in the Kovora she's going to—"

But before he can finish the sentence... he makes one weary mistake too many. His son lunges in, greatsword slashing across in a vicious arc... and with a meaty slice, Varthurg's head is severed from his shoulders, sailing through the air to land on the ground until it rolls to a stop. His headless body falls soon after.

There is stunned silence for a moment, the orcs not sure how to feel about the victory. Not sure what it means for them.

But before they can make up their mind, Rysanial calls out in a sultry voice. "Well, well, well..." she says. "It seems I may have underestimated your resolve after all, boy. Perhaps you do deserve another try."

She walks backward, the crowd parting before her until she's seated on the very same craftsman's table at the edge of the courtyard where he tried to fuck her before. Then she beckons enticingly with her finger. "Well?" she asks. "Ready to show me if you're more of a man now than last time?"

The new warchief swallows, hard. He surely knows that nothing about him has actually changed since his humiliating defeat. Nothing that could actually allow him to win now. And yet... he can't turn away. Not in front of so many witnesses. Not faced with the pleasure he has yearned for another taste of for so long.

He knows she can ruin him again, just as easily. But in that moment... he also realizes that he doesn't care. Not in the face of how much he needs her. In fact... you wonder if some deep part of him isn't eager to experience the same thing again. The pleasure that such humiliation can bring.

With a snarl, he lunges forward, bending her over like he did before. She lets him, only giving an amused chuckle. He rips aside her garments and brings out his cock, before roughly thrusting it in. Even knowing how utterly pointless it is... he's still trying as hard as he can to win.

Hoping against hope.

Rysanial, for her part, is sandbagging a bit more than in their first confrontation. She's still in control, still driving him wild with her allure... but the orc is just barely able to keep from coming as his hips pound against hers in a frenzy while he holds her down. The other, watching orcs lean closer, holding their breath as they wait to see how it will all end.

Will she crush him ruthlessly like before? Or—against all odds—will their fellow orc dominate the demonic seductress? Will he redeem himself from his disgrace? With expert skill, Rysanial keeps the outcome balanced on a knife's edge. The raw, primal fury of their copulation is a sight to behold. The orc is a hair's breadth away from coming... but she just barely allows him to hold on.

Still, it's clear that he, at least, knows he has no chance. He knows she could end this at any time. Even the onlookers are starting to despair, though Rysanial manipulates the contest so that they never quite lose hope. They're cheering their new warchief on, howling out their encouragement, even in the face of near-certain defeat.

Hoping for a miracle.

Well. You wouldn't call anything you provide a miracle... but it is time for your part in Rysanial's plan.

Leaping from the balcony, you glide down to land next to the two of them as they're fucking. "Impressive, warchief..." you say, your hand glowing as you raise it to his shoulder. "You truly have grown. And as a sign of the Witch Queen's favor for your victory... you deserve a Boon. Swear your oath to her... swear to serve her loyally, and to obey her every command... and I will bestow upon you the infernal might granted to those who hold her majesty's favor."

The warchief looks back over his shoulder at you, wild-eyed. He's barely hanging on, just moments away from another humiliation. You can see the temptation of the hope you're offering him, as his considers it with his pleasure-wracked brain.

Rysanial's eyes go wide at what you say, looking terrified. "Wh-what?" she says, suddenly sounding nervous. "You're... you're giving that to him now? W-wait, no! Please, wait, don't!"

It's an impressive performance. You doubt any of the orcs will be able to tell how rehearsed her "fear" is. And seeing her like that convinces the orc fucking her to accept. "I swear!" he roars. "I swear it all! My life for the Witch Queen!"

And with that, the Corruptive Boon takes hold. You increase his sexual prowess to the utmost limit, giving him a surge of stamina and self-control that immediately puts him back in the game. Rysanial's "fear" grows, and soon she's squeaking and moaning, writhing underneath him as he fucks her into the table.

It's all a complete act on Rysanial's part, of course. As incredible as your Corruptive Boon is by mortal standards, it could never bring one of them up to the level of a true demon of lust.

But your new warchief doesn't know that. And the onlookers definitely don't.

Rather, what they see is one of their own regaining his honor in an incredible turnaround victory. What they see is the sexual dominance that serving the Witch Queen loyally can bring. What they see is a true orc, fucking even a demon from Hell into submission with the power of his cock... and the power granted by following Lily's way.

He flips her onto her back, forcing her to look up at him as he thrusts into her. The watching orcs are losing their minds, shouting encouragement to their new warchief at the top of their lungs. Rysanial continues to writhe, gasping with "uncontrollable" pleasure... until finally she lets out a plaintive shriek, arches her back orgasmically... and then slumps back down to the table, limp and unmoving.

Seeing his "victory", the warchief lets out one last bellow, finally allowing himself to unload inside her, his body trembling with the force of the orgasm he's been barely holding back for so long. The crowd is chanting his name, the noise almost deafening. He bends over Rysanial's body, gasping for breath, as he basks in the adulation. In his redemption.

And it's then that Rysanial opens one eye, looking up at him and giving him a smug wink.

Then—in a movement completely hidden from the onlookers by his bulk leaning over her—Rysanial's hand shoots out, latching onto his balls in a vice-like grip. She knows exactly how much strength to put into it, to make it an exquisite agony as she squeezes him. "Tonight..." she whispers, in a voice only the three of you can hear over the cacophony. "After your first report to your liege... I will discipline you for what you've enjoyed today."

He understands, in that moment, just how completely the two of you have played him. That he hasn't truly won. That he hasn't truly escaped. That even now, Rysanial could break him, destroy him at any moment. Yes, she has allowed him to erase his humiliation in the eyes of his followers... but in truth, he's even more her bitch than ever before.

In a way, it's the best of both worlds. Both the thrill of public victory and the thrill of private defeat. The thrill of defeat that he first learned from Rysanial on their first meeting... and couldn't have ever truly forgotten.

In the end, you don't know which is truly more enticing to him.

You're not sure if he knows either.

Either way, you've achieved a great victory today. The army leadership is now unquestionably yours. The way things are going, by the time Rysanial is finished with the warchief tonight, he'll be willing to follow any order in exchange for her stepping on him. And that's on top of the Corruptive Boon that you've bound him with as well.

Beyond that, the orc army itself has just seen an amazing demonstration of what your path can offer. You imagine that many more volunteers for the same corruption will soon be following in their warchief's footsteps. Perhaps even more than you can keep up with, at your power's current level.

Already, your mind is racing to the future, thinking about your next steps. With the army so securely on your side, following that up with another victory would be ideal. You'll have some time to prepare in anticipation of your next move, but you need to make a firm decision on who your next quarry will be.

You've used your Dreamwalking to plant an idea in Nevati's mind, pushing her toward making an ill-advised foray into Kovora itself, in hopes of learning something that could help her save Ceriss. Are you going to follow up on that opportunity, and make her your next target? If not, there's no telling what the grief-stricken wizard might do when she does arrive.

At the very least, if you're going to change your mind and target someone else, you feel like it would be wise to leave enough people behind in Kovora to hopefully handle anything that comes out of Nevati's attempt without anything too disastrous coming to pass.