Vayal Academy

The daemon — who has gone by many names in her millenarian life, but finds none of them feel totally right for this new iteration — has no trouble carrying both of her unconscious prizes down into Vayal’s labyrinthine catacombs. She is surprised, pleased and baffled to find a den already arranged for her in one of the alcoves, separated from the rest of the catacombs by a green, beaded curtain, and with a purple bed practically begging her to give into her base desires and fuck the pigeon girl before she even wakes up. The daemon is all base desires, though, and this means she has gotten good at managing and prioritizing them.

She lays the pigeon almost tenderly down on the waterbed, and straps Gelstra into the convenient shackles so that she’s suspended from the high brick wall by her wrists. The daemon then retreats to the bed, spooning Posy like a lover (a terrible sight in her shadowy horror form), and, regaining control of the acolyte’s Restoration magic, wakes both of her captives with a golden mote of Restoration.

Posy wakes with a gasp, feeling the cold presence behind her, Gelstra with a shout. “Let her go!”

A golden arrow of Restoration magic shoots over to Gelstra and seals her mouth shut. Posy cries out. She has never seen such a thing!

“Hush, pretty birdy,” says the daemon, “I have nothing to say to her. She does not need her mouth. She would only interrupt us.”

Posy whimpers, the smooth, frightening voice continues in her ear. “She hurt you, little bird, do you know that? She stole from you.”

“Mmmph mmph mm!” says Gelstra.

“She took your memories,” says the daemon, “invaded your mind. What greater violation is there?”

Posy look at Gelstra in puzzlement and fear, struck by the same disorientation that has plagued her.

“She’s… she’s not a Restorationist. She cannot perform memory magic.” Even amongst Restorationists, the practise is taboo, largely forbidden. Certainly forbidden at Vayal. Such an infraction would earn the porcupine an instant expulsion.

“Her lover,” says the daemon, and a white furred, sharp-toothed face floating above a yellow tie flashes across Posy’s mind. Where does she know that face? Not just from classes, surely? It feels… more.

“Is this… is this true?” Posy asks Gelstra, who flushes.

“I would never lie to you,” coos the demon, stroking one of Posy’s perfect tits. “I love you. I have been inside of you. That is why I must avenge you.”

A sharp limb shoots out and rests under Gelstra’s chin, tilting her face up. “She will suffer for what she did to you. I will wipe her mind to a blank slate! I will make her personless, languageless.”

“No!” cries Posy.

The demon tilts something that could be a head, shifting Posy’s face so that she’s looking up at her and not at the shackled Gelstra. “You ask for mercy?”

“Please,” cries Posy, “don’t hurt her!”

“You ask too much of me. Little birdie… You must make me very happy indeed, to earn such a favour.”

Posy blinks up into the horror, into the pockets of void that stare at her. “I- I-”

“Do you understand my terms?” the demon says impatiently. “Displease me, and I will take a memory from her- Now, roll over and stick your hips up so I can fuck you.”

“Please… no, I can’t-”

“MMMPH,” Gelstra can’t control the scream that escapes from her sealed mouth as the memory is torn from her mind. Chunks of her childhood now seem incomplete, partly blank when she thinks of them. There was a friend, wasn’t there? Didn’t she have a friend? She slumps in her chains.

“Gelstra!” with a cry of horror and sympathy, Posy rolls over and sticks her ass up.

“Good little acolyte. Do you want me inside of you? Do you want me to steal your maidenhood again?”

Posy, despite herself, is rock hard right now; but still, she takes too long to respond, and Gelstra screams again.

“Yes!” she cries, “Yes! Please!”

And then the daemon is inside of her, filling her. A long hand wraps around to Posy’s front and strokes her as she whimpers. It feels so good, too good. Posy sobs into the pillow.

“MMMMFF!” Gelstra screams as another memory is taken.

“Careful,” says the daemon, “you’re hurting my feelings. I’ll start to think you don’t like me.”

“I- I do! I do like you!” She no longer works to stifle her moans of pleasure, hoping they will mollify the daemon.

“I know, sweetling. You like what I’m doing to you even more, though, don’t you? You love it. It’s what you’re built for, right?”

“Yes,” moans Posy.

“Say it.”

Posy knows better than to hesitate. “This is what I’m built for,” she says, shame and pleasure fighting for dominance in her magic-addled brain. Gelstra twitches in her restraints, but there’s nothing she can do. She watches in horror as Posy arches her back and moans into the mattress.

Posy is close to cumming already, but every time she’s certain that she’s about to reach her climax, the pleasure just continues, heightens. The Restoration principle involved is similar to staunching bleeding (or even the fabled torpor-causing high level spells, used for the most extreme injuries), though Posy has never understood it. The daemon understands it perfectly.

As much as she wants to resist, the daemon’s form gives her little choice. The strange tendrils of energy mold themselves to her, leaving her ass full, stretched, without even the suggestion of pain — the one stroking her cock is the same, divinely frictioned and ever-lubricated.

Her beak hangs open as she pants, moans, realises that she’s running out of time. If she doesn’t do something soon then her body will surrender, and once it does there’s nothing left to protect her. Her faith is useless here, deep beneath the dirt.

Two more tendrils coil round her tits, squeeze, and as magic flows into her they grow bigger, leave more surface area for the daemon to tickle. “Oh, oh, oh,” she moans, hovering there at the brink of her orgasm, and her pretty, open beak soon finds another part of the daemon inside it. She swirls her tongue without being told, knows what it wants, opens wider to let it into her throat, to let it fill her utterly.

It begins to feel like the slithering tentacles are fucking her soul as well as her body; Posy moans around the fat obstruction in her mouth, in her throat. Gelstra watches the whole thing shamefully wet and equally horrified.

Something like an orgasm racks Posy’s body, then again, again, her built-up pleasure so overwhelming that she can’t help but throw her hips back, push up onto her knees, wrap her hands around the daemon’s tentacle in her mouth and stroke both back and forth.

“Ah, now there’s my good little girl,” the daemon whispers. “They would hate you, if they knew about this,” it tightens its grip on Posy’s cock, “but I love you as you are. Exactly as you are.” The tendril in her mouth withdraws, and Posy shouts,

“Put it back, put it back, put it back!”

“Oh, I will, my Priestess,” it says, stroking her head almost tenderly. “But first, tell me what we should do with your friend.”

It’s not like she gives a shit, not now, when her body’s so utterly overwhelmed with pleasure, but as she looks at the shackled Gelstra the final dam breaks, and Posy surrenders to the tempting whispers of hedonism. “Let me fuck her throat,” she says, to the daemon’s surprise. It’s the first time she’s ever sworn.

As adaptable as it is malevolent, the daemon unhooks Gelstra and drags her over to kneel in front of the bed. It moves to position Posy, but she gets there herself, remarkably composed for someone who’s still getting fucked.

“Don’t do it, Posy, you can still-” Gelstra says, silenced by the cock in her mouth.

“Shut up, whore,” the priestess replies, mind broken. “You wanted to corrupt me. You’re just mad she’s better at it.” With her claws positioned very carefully on Gelstra’s cheeks, one of the only parts of her head not covered in a pine forest of spikes, she thrusts in time with the daemon behind her.

Gesltra tries another protest around Posy’s cock (which the daemon inflates to a much less modest size), but it’s half-hearted. She can’t deny it — had the simply adorable pigeon come up to her and asked to fuck, she wouldn’t have given a damn about her vow of celibacy.

Posy grunts. “You think I didn’t notice how you looked at me? Drooling over me… you’re such a naughty little slut.” Looking back later, in the slim moments Posy will have to consider it all, she’ll be entirely unable to explain where this came from. (For the benefit of the record, it should be known that the Church is entirely right — you can’t consort with daemons without them rubbing off on you, and Posy’s done a fair bit more than consort, now). “You got what you wanted. This is my fucking throat, now. I- I- I,” she’d like to say, I own you, but the wet throat before her and the perfectly shaped tendril behind her bring her to an explosive climax — she paints the back of Gelstra’s throat white with a shudder.

Gelstra wakes up, hours later, with her throat burning and her memory wiped. Posy did an excellent job, so most of Gelstra is intact — but while she remembers Posy, sweet Posy, saying such filthy things with her cock in Gelstra’s mouth, she can’t seem to place them. It may as well have happened in the void.

Gelstra groans when she realises she needs to Restore Posy to her previous state, and there’s only one terrifying fucking woman who can help her.