Of Crowns and Cloth
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Delirium147 on 06-07-2014, 15:16:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 15:16:03</strong>
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				<div style="text-align: right;">Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest.<br>&nbsp;- Denis Diderot</div><br><br><div align="center">(http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140514042618/gotascent/images/f/fd/World_Meereen.jpg)</div><br>In the dimly lit hall sat on a throne of marble and ivory, was a tall man, mightily shouldered and deep of chest, with a corded neck and heavily muscled limbs. He was clad in mail and velvet, with the royal lions of Cileria worked in gold upon his rich jupon, and the crown of his kingdom shone on his square-cut black mane; but the great war-hammer (http://cdn4.list25.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/93.png) of wrought black steel and ebony at his side, seemed more natural to him than the regal accoutrements adding to his majesty. His brow was low and broad, his eyes a volcanic blue that smouldered as if with some inner fire. They were of such a brilliant hue, it seemed they were frozen jewels, placed in the face of an antediluvian deity. They spoke of an unsettling amount of concentration and intelligence. His dark, scarred, almost sinister face was that of a fighting-man, and his garments could not conceal the hard, dangerous lines of his limbs. A strong jaw, covered with a slight stubble, holding a stern mouth was clenched. There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on this man’s face, rage and joy looked much the same. A strong dark brow loomed overhead as the two orbs of sapphires seemed to master the flames of the sconces themselves. The king’s were sad eyes, cruel eyes, eyes of a dangerous, brooding man.<br><br>The man on the throne gave nothing away and perhaps in this lay a source of his authority. His gaze eyes flickered restless and intelligent, simultaneously mirrors and walls for the keen mind that had marked this man’s rule and life. His likeness had been painted by a master artist from across the Narrow Sea and commanded pride of place in the Great Hall of this palace. It had indeed been a hand of genius that had managed to capture the agelessness and strength in his portrait, for it was the proof of something fleeting, something beyond capture that unnerved many. His features were clear evidence of the noble Cilerian blood that flowed through his veins, made apparent in the shape of the nose and the chiseled jaw.<br><br>Atop his proud head rested the crown of the Teisterbants; It was a heavy circlet of wrought iron and hammered bronze, with crenulations shaped like the blades of swords. The metal was incised with runes of the Old Kingdom, ancient and powerful. His ancestors had picked the material and shape well, for bronze and iron were stronger than gold or silver and certainly less vain, while the tiny blades served as a constant reminder of what was expected of a Teisterbant king.<br><br>In his mind’s eye he saw himself as a younger man, barely out of boyhood, climbing the battlements at Salusa. After the ensuing sack of the settlement, he had set off on his own intent to make a name for himself in this thirsty world. All his life, he had followed a path paved with skulls, his rise to power written in blood. He had been called a slayer, reaver, sellsword,... He had lived on both sides of the law and loved as fiercely as he hated. He had slain beasts, necromancers, monsters and demons, not sparing their dark, sorcerer masters.<br><br>“King Sebadorn,” a voice pulled him from the mists of memory and into the present.<br><br>Yes. King it was now. No longer slayer, crippler or upstart. King. <em>King!</em> A spectre of a grin played around his otherwise unyielding mouth. Gaining a crown was easier than keeping it. Sebadorn Teisterbant had been the friend of death and hardship, and so he could appreciate his current position.<br><br>“Your Majesty,” the page persisted, per Sebadorn’s request. He was aware of his own tendency to sink away into melancholy or reflection. The king nodded to indicate he had heard the page. “My Lord King, the sisterhood have answered your summons. A priestess has arrived.”<br><br>The massive man nodded again and gestured for the page to bring the female visitor here promptly. Other servants dashed through the throne room, setting a table with fine wines and sweet foodstuffs such as sugar-coated peaches.<br><br>Sebadorn’s newly won kingdom was beset in the west by savage tribes of swarthy men that clad themselves in copper bands, feathers and leathers. What they lacked in technological advances, they made up in ferocity. Similarly, in the east the Ogres were pressing the border defences. To the south, the kingdom of Byrthe was mobilising behind the last remaining son of Valserion, the late king of Cileria. Sebadorn was alone and he needed allies, quickly, for he had to leave the capital and could not risk a dagger in his back.<br><br>Raise the stakes, he thought, and raise them again!<br><br>The Sisterhood of Bandar-Gizat was a powerful and ancient organisation of women, whose objectives and agendas had partly shaped the history of the world. The priestesses claimed to toil on a path of insight and stability, but Sebadorn recognised in them as much political as religious factors. As such, he needed them to rule, an alliance to fortify his hold over the throne... For that, he was willing to make just about any sacrifice. <br><br>The priestess appeared before him, dressed in the splendid vestments of her stature. To Sebadorn’s mind, men and women of the cloth ought to appear ascetic and humble, clothed in dignity and devotion to the gods. This priestess, this witch, was far from ascetic. She comported herself stately, confident and perhaps slightly arrogant, as she strode into his throne room dressed in rich, opulent fabric, thin in the right places to offer a glimpse of her honed body. An air of power exuded from this woman. The collar and bodice were stitched with precious stones, and her hair was put up with golden and ivory pins, making her headdress a piece of art. When she moved further, the priestess seemed to glide on a cloud of perfume and fabric.<br><br>King Sebadorn reviewed what he knew about the Sisterhood of Bandar-Gizat. They were ruthlessly ambitious, agents of the female mystery, that were famed for their adept and gifted members. Young girls, often orphaned, were taken in by the Sisterhood and moulded by years of education and, what Sebadorn saw as indoctrination. The large ziggurat-like temples used enormous amounts of incense and mesmerising drugs. The latter were used by worshippers and priestesses alike to enter a trance in which they were supposedly able to converse with the gods, spirits and the dead. Talented young slaves were also sometimes inducted, bought by the priestesses after being screened for potential. If the young females were sufficiently gifted, they would enrol in the sisterhood, if not, they would become servants, temple prostitutes or remain slaves. They said that the witches of Bandar-Gizat could work magic and look into the future. Precognition was a powerful tool, and maybe Sebadorn could make it his.<br><br>His predecessor, the late King Valserion, had been a tool of the Brotherhood of Phenax, a toy of imperiously despotic sorceror-priests. Whispers at court said the old king had been hypnotised. He planned on being something else entirely, without the support of the treacherous Phenax priests that so valued their secrets. Sebadorn had looked elsewhere for godly guidance. Nevertheless, his judgement should not be clouded by the scent of a beautiful woman, his ear not corrupted by the whispers and tongue of a Bandar-Gizat sorceress. Sebadorn thought that a fitting comparison, for their chief deity was the Great Serpent; seductive, agile and skilled with tongues. The sisters of Pharika were allies in their own right, though.<br><br>Bandar-Gizat, the Great Serpent, Pharika (http://hyboria.xoth.net/img/ishtar_priestess.jpg), ..., the ancient Serpent Goddess, was worshipped in rich temples and at lavish shrines with rituals of blood sacrifice and orgiastic frenzy performed before sensuously carved idols of ivory. For those who served her, enigmatic Bandar-Gizat bestowed bountiful harvests and many children in exchange for sacrifice. The voluptuous temple prostitutes which were found in the pyramids and ziggurats, were well known even outside the lands where the alluring goddess was worshipped.<br><br>The Cilerians had long since abandoned the worship of Mitron, forgetting the attributes of the universal sun god. Bandar-Gizat, or Pharika was much to be feared, and admired, as was evident by this magnificent female visitor. Cilerian culture and religion had suffered from a subtle admixture of Heshite and Styrian strains. The simple ways of his kingdom had become modified to a large extent by the sensual, luxurious, yet despotic habits of the East and South. It was not something Sebadorn deplored per se.<br><br>“Blessings to you, priestess of Pharika” he said, the voice coming from his broad chest was deep and rich like wine, raspy with authority; a voice used to shouting commands on a battlefield. Pharika was one of the many aspects of the deity Bandar-Gizat, focusing on youth, fertility and sensuality. It seemed most appropriate to Sebadorn to address his visitor as such, since she obviously displayed these qualities of Bandar-Gizat, of Pharika, the most. In addition, Pharika was also the Godess of the Poison Kiss, subterfuge and dark magic. A worthy arsenal of attributes, Sebadorn was cautious. He gestured with his muscled arm for a servant to offer her cooled wine, then stood up.<br><br>The king walked through a corridor, decorated with mosaics, marble sculptures and caryatids. Eventually, the hall ended up on a wide balcony, overlooking the capital city of Cileria bathing in lazy, golden sunlight. “Do you know why I have called upon you and your sisterhood?” His tone was distant, but not without deference. If these witch-priestesses were as gifted as rumour said they were, he wanted to see they could guess.<br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 17:29:23</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://images.elfwood.com/art/c/a/camilkuo/zcg81.jpg)</div>From the moment she stepped out of the scented temple near the eastern edge of the city, Lucifia could feel a change in the air. Not just the sudden response from the frantic populus to her appearance, but a change in the future of the city, and indeed the nation. The Phenax constellation was waning, dropping below the horizon as Pharika's bright stars rose with a brilliance not seen for millennia. It didn't take a genius to see that great things were going to occur. The invitation from the throne of Caermelor only confirmed her suspicions. With her two attendants close behind, she strode confidently out towards the palace, and the King.<br><br>Whispers spread like wildfire across the city before her...a Priestess of Pharika was coming. Families disappeared indoors, their faces appearing at the windows to watch Lucifia and her two attendant pass by. Single ladies smiled and curtseyed, acknowledging the priestess who represented their dark mistress, protector of women. Working men paused and bowed in deference to her, their eyes darting over her body. Lucifia merely returned their gaze with a piercing stare, forcing them to look away. She hid a smile as she passed them. It was well known they could have her. Any of the Pharika women were available for pleasure or indulgence, but only those willing to sacrifice dearly could afford them. As the Head Priestess of Pharika in this city, few had even dare approach her for guidance, and none had ever accepted the price of power from her, until perhaps now.<br><br>Lucifia didn't mind the hushed whispers, lustful stares, and fearful glances. She had dealt with them all her life. From the moment she was picked up out of the gutter by her sister and brought into the fold she had immersed herself in the lore and lifestyle of Pharika. She had no idea where she had come from, or even what ethnicity she belonged to. She didn't care either. She spent years pouring over the vast tombs of alchemy and herblore, learning the art of ritual sacrifice and lust-craft, perfecting her empathy and connection to both men and women, and honing her body to be the perfect priestess. Of all the current Pharika women, she was the most senior, commanding the respect of her peers, and the fear of the others.<br><br>As part of her ascension to full priesthood, she had drunk a complex and magical concoction made by her own hands. It was proof of her herbal and magical power: a ritual trial of rites. Many prospective women had tried to make it and failed resulting in lethal poisons which inevitably killed them. Lucifia's was perfect. In recognition of her ability and worship, Pharika blessed her. Her eyes, once dull brown, now gleamed slitted poison green. The glowing light shifted and throbbed as if her eyes hide the swirling green mists of eternity. Her tongue lengthened and split near the tip, resembling a serpent's tongue, heightening her sense of taste and smell for her herbology.<br><br>To complete her blessing, Pharika renewed her body, the old skin pealing back to reveal Lucifia as she was in her early 20s: nubile, lustful, and energetic. Dark lustrous hair cascaded down past he shoulders to the small of her back.&nbsp; Her body was lightly tanned and flawless. Ritual tattoos and piercings dotted her smooth skin. Her large full breasts rested high on her chest. Her priestess garments covered a wide strip of the front of her bust, but left the sides open for all to see. Equally her flowing skirt was actually made of a series of serpent skins, the slits and gaps allowing a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs and buttocks. A serpent vial hung on a thong twine around her neck, holding a few drops of Pharika's own venom. A silver serpent circlet completed her priestess attire.<br><br>She had reached the palace walls now, a crowd gathered a respectful distance away as she approached the great gates. She stood motionless as her attendants walked forward, "Open the gates! The King expects the Priestess of Pharka!" they called. Hushed murmurs ran once more through the crowd as the gates swung ponderously outwards, revealing the barbaric palace. A moment later she was in the throne room, and before her sat the King of Caermelor, Sebadorn Teisterbant.<br><br>He was an impressive sight. In her years, Lucifia had seen several kings. All of them were all glamour and pride, with golden crowns and fauning crowds of the court that made Lucifia vomit. King Sebadorn was the exact opposite. Tall, muscular, and barbaric, he resembled a creature carved from the raw power of the earth. His powerful blue gaze met her own green stare as she approached. Lucifia especially noted the complete lack of any advisors or counselors. Usually the throne was beset by other god-priests, particularly Phenax. Indeed perhaps the time of the Brotherhood was indeed on the wan.<br><br>His trusty war-hammer rested easily in his hands as he welcomed her. <em>“Blessings to you, priestess of Pharika” </em> Lucifia gave a resepctful bow, her breasts floating forward slightly as she kept eye-contact...like a snake in good company. "And returned in kind, Sebadorn - King of Caermelor." Her voice was a smooth clear whisper, light and comforting to the ear. Such a soothing versatile voice could be used in so many ways. When the servant scurried forward with cooled wine, one of her attendants accepted, tasting it first before nodding and handing it to Lucifia.<br><br>On the balcony, Lucifia gazed with the king across the vast crowded metropolis of Caermelor. Below, the scurrying ants rushed through their daily lives, their heads bowed under work and toil. Across the palace, the richer districts gleamed in the early morning light. Her quick eye scanned the fields, seeking ou the younger slaves. It was constantly her duty to detect promising acolytes for her temples. A sudden movement caught her eye, and she looked down over the balcony, just catching the flicker of a cloak on the balcony below. A Phenax eavesdropper.&nbsp; <em>“Do you know why I have called upon you and your sisterhood?” </em><br><br>Lucifia smiled slightly, "My king, I need not my powers of perception to see why. You are newly king. The treaties the late king made are all but useless. Enemies press the borders, and from your empty throne room, you grow tired of the ceaseless prattling whispers of the Phenax Brotherhood." She turned to gaze into his eyes, her head tilted slightly. "But you are battlewise and not foolhardy. You are aware keeping the crown is a colossal endeavour, one not lightly taken alone." Lucifia raised one hand in front of her, a glowing green mist forming in her palm, congealing into a coiled snake, it's narrowed head eyeing the king carefully. <br><br>Suddenly, she flung her hand out over the balcony, the ethereal snake leaping from her fingers, and descending to the balcony below. A loud hiss and a strangled yell broke the silence, followed by a death rattle as the eavesdropper seccumbed to the swift poisonous fangs of the snake. Moments later, the snake reappeared, slithering up from the balcony pillars and up Lucifia's leg to settle on he shoulder, flickering it's tongue contentedly.<br><br>"You wish our power, our allegiance to aid you in your battles...am I not right, my king?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 18:12:39</strong>
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				While waiting and listening to the priestess’s answer, Sebadorn let his smouldering blue gaze wander over the metropolitan vista that the great city of Caermelor yielded. Meanwhile, he attempted to ignore her rich scent of jasmine and sweetness. The sorceress-priestesses of Pharika had chosen their emissary well.<br><br>The pyramid of Bandar-Gizat, devoted to the goddess Pharika was closest, dominating the capital’s skyline much like the royal palace did. There were two other massive structure capable of challenging the majesty of Pharika’s ziggurat, both devoted to a deity as well. The first one, erected in blue and black stone, was home to the priests of Erebos, God of Death, answerable to nobody, a force of nature of his own right. The other, green and yellow of colour, was the house of Phenax, God of Deception. Sebadorn grunted. Seductive affliction, death and deception... these were the capital deities of his nation’s pantheon. The times we live in, he thought cynically.<br><br>Caermelor, capital of Cileria, was called the most princely city of the west by some scholars. Others had dubbed it the Eye of the World. Its skyline, broken by the colourful, impressive pyramids of the gods, was dotted with manses and towers of blue and gold, with copper domes reflecting the sunlight and dazzling marble renditions of kings, queens and national heroes lining the wide streets.<br><br>Created in layers, like rumpled cloth against the cliffs of the Khorace River and Bay of Sighs, Caermelor has several distinctive areas separated by walls and tiers both physical and societal. Possibly the most famous of these sections, unsurprisingly, is the Old City. Another prominent district was the Temple Quarter, whence the pyramids and ziggurats reached to the sapphire skies.<br><br>The Old City sat at the end of a huge bridge that led to the rest of the bustling city on the mainland, divided elsewhere by high walls and guarded gates. It used its own docks and possessed a massive gate sitting on Sovereign Avenue. All were patrolled regularly, and watched for dangerous visitors. Sebadorn pondered, though, if the most dangerous visitors were not permanently residing in the city already, firmly nestled in its bosom. The Old City was the root of the capital itself, where the rest of Caermelor grew outward from, and formed the base of the royal palace. The shining towers of the palace itself, rose high into the sky, overlooking the rest of the city and, some might say, the rest of the kingdom of Cileria. When glancing back, Sebadorn could see many of said striking towers grasping at the firmament.<br><br>The king looked back at the summoned priestess and suppressed a shiver born from lust and fear. Lucifia’s eyes were unnatural, clearly serpent-like and mesmerising. These witches altered their bodies, infused them with divine favour. Perhaps at the right opportunity, the king could enjoy the fruits of their zealous labour himself... Sebadorn scrutinised her attractive face and frame, plainly but without condemnation. The truth of the matter was that he had sought her out of his own accord, for he needed the power and influence of the Sisterhood. They had indeed mastered the avatar of their deity: alluring, but dangerous, these women were.<br><br>His mighty brow furrowed when a green mist manifested in Lucifia’s slender, bejewelled hand. Was this an assassination attempt? He had left his great war-hammer in the throne room, but even unarmed Sebadorn was a dangerous opponent. The king looked at his huge hands, he could very well strangle her, no? Throttle her before she could launch that venomous viper at him.<br><br>Sebadorn’s worries were in vain, though, for she sent the serpent over the sculpted edge of the balcony to slay a different, far less important person. His quick mind suspected it was an agent or spy of the Phenaxi priesthood whom had fallen from grace with his ascension to the throne. “Effective,” he commented, when the snake slithered back along the heated stonework and onto Lucifia’s oiled, smooth skin. He caught his thought wandering about the velvet softness and taste of said skin, and willed himself to concentrate.<br><br>“You are right, of course, lustrous Lucifia” Sebadorn said. He had yet to meet the woman immune to flattery. The king was a peculiar mix of brute, poet and warrior. “I indeed wish your power and influence to aid me in my battles, both literal and figurative battles.” Sebadorn cleared his throat and took a seat in a seat cut from massive marble, draping his powerful body in the seat with the agility of a predator cat. “I have long admired the priestesses of Pharika.” He was a man of war and leadership, not of administration and logistics. In this regard, the Sisterhood was skilled, running temple brothels and ledgers since before the counting of time.<br><br>“The western savages are pillaging as they please, and hordes of ogres harass the east, while my lieutenants in their complacency have left a pretender alive behind which those envious Byrthemen are gathering. Three grim and unrelenting enemies at our borders.” Sebadorn licked his lips as he observed the elegant woman. “Not to mention the subversive elements inside the kingdom.”<br><br>A wolfish, predatory grin split his worn face. “In short, High-Priestess,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 21:26:05</strong>
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				Lucifia cast her eyes back across the wide horizon. Once the city had been adorned temple for all 15 gods that existed in the pantheon. Now, only three remained in the city. She could still see the derelict ruins of the discarded gods, The broken sun temple in the south, the overgrown fields of the harvest god in the west. More ruins across the borders of the city. Only Phenax, Erebos, and Pharika remained. Only two more gods to eliminate...<br><br>"To defeat such enemies you will require great power. Such people would also call upon the aid of the gods for their cause." said Lucifia, as she leaned on the balcony, her snakeskin dress parting slightly to reveal a teasing glimpse of her inner thigh and round buttocks. "It is certainly possible to achieve this, but for such power, we will require a great sacrifice." She gestured to the great city of Caermelor towards the temple of Phenax. "Just as the impossible is achieved by a single powerful king, these feats of magic can only be achieved by a single overriding god. Our Mistress Pharika can easily assist you, but it will be difficult to do so while the other gods continue to attempt to interfere. Your city is already powerful as long ago the kings discarded worship of many of the gods save for the dark three. We must utilize only one if we are to succeed."<br><br>She turned to lean back against the balcony rail, the snake on her shoulder slithering down between her breasts. It emerged from between her legs, parting the dress slightly to reveal even more tantalizing skin. "I must perform a ritual, and for this I will require any members of the Phenax Brotherhood in the city who are willing to do anything to aid their king. You must phrase it as such to know their loyalty. If they agree, they will be part of my ritual and survive. If they refuse, the you will see the true political face of Phenax." Strolling back from the balcony, she motioned her attendants closer. "Send word back to the temple, Alya. We will require the urns and the scents of desire, along with seven initiates, yourself included if you wish." The attendant glided smoothly off towards the doors, intent to return with the required items. It was a great honour to participate in the rituals of Pharika, and Alya was eager to prove herself a worthy acolyte.<br><br>For the midday meal, the king's servants served up a pleasant mix of foods, suitable to the robust appetite of the king, and the delicate tastes of the Pharika Priestess. Sitting at the balcony, the discussed idle strategies against the threats that pushed against the city boundaries. Lucifia wasn't blind to the subtle hints of lust thrown her way by the King's eyes during the meal. He was very good at hiding it, and to anyone else his thoughts may have passed unnoticed. More than once she sensed his brilliant blue gaze slide over her breasts and over her tanned skin. Equally she herself was not immune to the pull of erotic desire, and had to conscious. Lucifia suddenly looked across the table, locking eyes with Sebadorn. "Do you desire me, your majesty?" she asked plainly. She laughed at his moment of hesitation. "No need to be coy, my king. You will have what you desire."<br><br>Rising from her seat, she slide around the table. Seating herself on the table's edge in front of the king, she leaned in close to Sebadorn, her top opening once more displaying her lavish cleavage. The subtlest hint of a nipple showed at the edge of her leather garment. Lucifia's bare foot slide slowly up the king's leg, tickling his inner thigh as she boldly teased the king. A dangerous game for any but the most skilled temptresses. "In this ritual, I will require life essence: Blood or Sperm. The willing Phenax Brothers will give us sperm, and be allowed to live. The unwilling will give us blood, and their bodies returned to Phenax." The snake emerged from under her dress once more, this time rearing up to lift the edge to reveal for the first time Lucifia's smooth closed pussy. "I shall require life essence from you as well, my king." she said, as she ran a slow finger across the tight slit. "For your pleasure and mine... I would suggest sperm." Her forked tongue slithered out meaningfully, as a lustful smile crept across her beautiful face.<br><br>Swiftly, she slide off the table, and glided back to seat. It happened so fast Sebadorn might have wondered if it was a willful daydream. Fortunately it was not. "My attendant will return by tonight. I expect Phenax to respond to the summons by then. Might I inquire if your majesty is occupied tonight? If not, I look forward to enjoying your company."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 22:13:31</strong>
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				The king nodded, he was pleased with the imminent actions Lucifia was taking. Apparently she too was intelligent and opportunistic enough to realise the potential of the current political landscape. Her assistant, one Alya, glided away with the elegance that all of her sisters seemed to possess, Lucifia perhaps the most. The way she moved was so smooth, so graceful it appeared unnatural. By the gods, she was delectable.<br><br>Sebadorn’s heavy brow rose up ever so slightly at the witch’s sudden, direct question. He calmed his nerves, swallowed the swig of dark, rich wine and answered. “Yes,” he said manifestly, “I desire you. Only those of a different inclination would be insensitive towards your womanly appeal.” Lucifia was a mistress of seduction, laden with sexual potency and energy. Indeed, she projected lust around her, mixing it with danger to create a most alluring aura. The king was interested. And truly, he would have what he desired. Sebadorn grinned in response to Lucifia’s words.<br><br>Even though he had just ate, the brawny monarch was in the mood for more when Pharika’s priestess slithered around the table and placed herself in front of him, her clothes fitting her like sin. Her cleavage was ample and generous, something which Sebadorn appreciated, along with her wandering foot. It was slender and closely pedicured, with a gold anklet, and apparently skilled in arousing men with a single touch. He caught his left hand twitching once, and clenched it into one huge fist. “Be careful,” he groaned animal-like, “that I do not bring my offering here and now, on this table, priestess.”<br><br>It was easy, he found, listening to her seductive voice as she provided him with the information concerning her plot that would expose the priests of Phenax for what they were; power-hungry sycophants and hypocrites. Sebadorn nodded, “as you say, lovely Lucifia.” Then the snake came peeping between the priestess’s lush, tanned legs and reared its head. Sebadorn very much liked to replace the snake with his own sizeable serpent or head, burying himself between Lucifia’s thighs. The serpent revealed the temptresses cleanly shaved, treasure trove - a silky smooth pussy, crowned with a golden piercing. He wondered what she tasted like. He wondered what that slit tongue could conjure...<br><br>“Life essence,” he said. “Yes.” It would not be bad if she thought he bought into her every word. He would donate with such a fervour they had never seen, for he was Sebadorn Teisterbant, master of steel and fire, king of Cileria. “Very well, priestess. I will make the preparations.” Sebadorn cleared his throat and willed his throbbing manhood to calm down, until later in any case. “Additionally... I will need you to sniff out any traitors among the courtiers. I will command court to attend the ceremony you suggest.”<br><br>Sebadorn stood up, flexing his massive arms, the muscles rippling under the bronze skin. “I shall attend as well. After all, I have a back to scratch.”<br><br>- - - - -<br><br>The palace turned into a hive of enormous industry, servants and slaves labouring and scurrying about in a feverish pitch to prepare the chosen room for use. Herbs, incense and decorations had been gathered and expertly distributed under the watchful eyes of acolytes from the Pharika pyramid.<br><br>The room was rectangular, and the long shallow bath denoted it was an older quarter of the palace used to capture rain water from the hole in the roof. At one end stood a large stone throne fit for two people to sit upon at the same time, at the other a small dais whereupon the statue of Pharika would be placed at the start of the rite in honour of the Serpent Goddess. During the ceremony Sebadorn and Lucifia had discussed on the balcony, the stars -among which the Red Snake Eye devoted to Pharika- would watch the proceedings in divine blessing. Altars had been placed around the shallow bath, with grooves hewn into the black stone that ended up in the reservoir. The walls were lined with tables holding foodstuffs, sweets and wine, while decorations had been provided in black and red roses, satin and silk curtains.<br><br>A dozen soldiers in mail and leathers guarded the doors, while within the room stood nervous courtiers and Phenax priests and retainers. They had been commanded to be present at the Pharika ritual, for it would serve two purposes. First, Lucifia would gain her needed tribute for her enigmatic goddess, and Sebadorn would see treachery uprooted by her.<br><br>Sebadorn nodded. If the priestesses wished to add or change anything to it, they were welcome to. Just as the long expected party arrived, he poured out a cup of golden wine as a premature sacrifice to Pharika. The king pursed his stern lips and acknowledged their arrival with magnanimity, ordering the assembled court and Phenax worshippers to bow before the procession of females. “Welcome once more, High-Priestess Lucifia. Thank you for illuminating us with your presence.” Sebadorn drank in the sight of her, his eyes clearly betraying his want to ravish her in the most savage of ways. Truthfully, he thought, even those western troglodytes would be ashamed. “I hope you will find our effort to your satisfaction.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>06-07-2014, 23:27:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lucifia nodded in approval, the room was perfect. Alya had bought back six more of the temple's most promising acolytes. With eight ladies in total besides herself, they were ready for the ritual. A life-sized statue of Pharika had been brought from the temple, and now stood proudly in the middle of the large room. Her hand were held at waist level, each holding a snake with its mouth opened skyward. Sebadorn had done a fantastic job decorating the room in Pharika's honour, even going so far as to bring incense holders. With the incense and candles lit, Lucifia gathered her acolytes and had the king summon the courtesans and Phenax Priests.<br><br>"I thank you for your welcome again, King Sebadorn, and thank you all for coming. We will perform a ritual to support our king in his efforts to defeat his enemies, and we require a donation of life essence from each of you, either blood or sperm." She said with a smile. Many of the men looked with lust and interest at Lucifia and her women, others looked around nervously for means of escape. "Before we start we shall prepare ourselves. Please remove all your clothing, and enjoy the foreplay!" she said with an eager smile, her eyes fixed on King Sebadorn.<br><br>With a smooth movement, the nine women including Lucifia shed their robes and dresses, leather and snakeskin sliding off their bodies to reveal naked tanned and tattooed flesh. All of the people in the room followed suite, except the guards. Moving to the main platform, Lucifia whispered a small chant, the familiar green mist forming in her hands to solidify into a large ball of snakes. The serpents slithered out across the women as they stood motionless... nine snakes for nine women. The scent of the incense raised the arousal of all in the room, and the women were eager and ready for the ritual. One by one, the snakes reared up, and bit the Pharika Acolytes, their fangs spreading Pharika's essence into them. Slowly the snakes faded from view, vanishing once more into green mist.<br><br>A gasp arose from the crowd as Alya let out a pleasurable moan, her eyes now glowing green like Lucifia's, her tongue slitted and long. A pair of sharp fangs flashed in her mouth as she collapsed to the ground, her fingers sliding over her naked body seeking her pussy and nipples. One by one each of the women fell to the floor, writhing together in a lesbian orgy. They crawled over each other, diving between each others legs, fingers slipping into assholes, tongues sliding over nipples, the sexual tension rising higher and higher until they were all near screaming as orgasms ripped through their bodies. Alya was about to cum, when Lucifia's sharp command cut through her pleasure. "No! Alya...stand out!" Alya gazed up at her mistress, a look of hurt and pleading on her face, but she obeyed forlornly. Sliding aside from the ball of erotic female flesh, she knelt by Lucifia's side, her eyes downcast.<br><br>Finally ready for the courtesans, Lucifia ran her eyes across them all. So many of them. Some were sniveling favor-seeking lackeys, others were genuine supporters of the king, others undercover traitors...and Lucifia was about to reveal all. "Alya, come... I require a special service of you." The acolyte, initially forlorn for being excluded from the female orgy, leapt forward, kneeling eagerly before her mistress. Lucifia walked slowly up and down the line of prominent court members. She stopped before a middle-aged man and his young attendant. "Ashton...from the Deagus Family." she said with a sibilant hiss, her green glowing eyes fixing him hypnotically. "I hear you were a vocal protest against King Sebadorn's ascension, and now you are here claiming your loyalty to the people of Caermelor? Thats very bold of you..." Lucifia gave Alya a small nod, and the young acolyte crawled forward, wrapping her luscious lips around the nervous man's erect cock. He gasped and moaned with pleasure as Alya's expert tongue caressed and stroked his meaty shaft.<br><br>"I...I only wanted to protect the people! I thought Sebadorn would cause havoc in the city!" he protested, beads of sweat running down his face as he felt the slight scrape of Alya's fangs on his cock. Lucifia grinned as he squirmed. A further nod sent Alya to Ashton's attendant, the younger man groaning with pleasure as he felt the full sucking force of Alya's skillful mouth. Ashton gave an audible gasp of relief, his hand unconsciously touching his cockshaft, ensuring there were no bite holes in it.<br><br>"And yet you were wrong, Ashton. The city stands strong today despite your prediction." said Lucifia as she pulled a small slip of paper from a small box behind her. "It wasn't enough though was it for you... you tried to organize an assassination of the king. It is right here... signed with your seal." she said, as she unfolded the paper, the other courtesans gasping with horror. Ashton turned pale, "No...that..that wasn't me! Someone must have used my seal...it...I...I have always been loyal to the people of Caermelor!" he protested as Lucifia stepped in close, her fangs shining in the candlelight. She grinned and leaned in close...<br><br>"I believe you." she whispered simply. Ashton's attendant gave a sudden cry of pain as Alya withdrew his cock from her mouth. Lunging forward she bit into his groin just off to the side of his cock, her fangs sinking deep and striking the femoral artery. Blood gushed from the wound as Alya struck again, her mouth and jaw coated with blood. Spurt after spurt of dark red blood soaked the stone floor as he fell, writhing in his death throws. Alya leaned down to once more take his in her mouth, sucking feverishly to get an orgasm from him. She was skillful, and just before the attendant expired, his hips bucked several times, filling Alya's cheeks with thick gooey cum. Rising to her feet, Alya knelt before the statue of Pharika, slowly letting her mouthful of potent essence drip from her mouth into one of the snake's mouth.<br><br>Lucifia reached down and stroked Ashton's cock, arousing him and calming his panic. "You are true loyalist to King Sebadorn, Ashton of Deagus. Your attendant worshiped Phenax and sought your destruction when you changed allegiance to the new king. He has paid for his crime...and now you should be rewarded. Please enjoy the acolytes." she said, gently pushing Ashton towards the orgy of eager women, the relieved man collapsing among the acolytes as they fell upon him, kissing and licking his body, continuing Alya's skillful worship of his manhood.<br><br>At this point several members of the Phenax Brotherhood looked decidedly nervous. One of them stood boldly forward. "This is preposterous! You can't seriously be asking us to forsake our god for yours! We will not be part of your debauched orgies or your drug-fueled dreams!" Lucifia's eyes flashed dangerously as she advanced on him. He tried to back away, but Sebadorn's guards caught him and held him fast. Her tongue flicked out across his face.<br><br>"You taste of fear, 'brother'. Fear of failing your god, an failing your mission to overtake the city of Caermelor." she said, as she knelt before him, her lips wrapping around his cock. Lucifia moaned contentedly as she sucked and slurped at his cock, her eyes glowing brighter and brighter as she drained his life essence from him. The priest struggled feebly as his life was drained from him, escaping in big sloppy spurts of cum down Lucifia's throat. As she rose, wiping cum from her lips, he tried to aim a kick at her. Lucifia easily dodged the blow and aimed her own strike at his neck, her clawed fingers slashing his throat. Turning away from the dying priest, she cast her glare across the remaining Phenax priests. "I will forgive the actions of one renegade, but the rest of you represent Phenax in this city. You can either join the ritual in support of the king, or you can leave. For every one of you to leave, one must die. Those who survive, tell your brotherhood: Phenax's time is over! The King has chosen Pharika, and Pharika shall support him."<br><br>Leaving the Phenax priests with the guards, Lucifia swiftly went through the rest of the courtesans, many of them fell to the swift fangs of Alya, some were sent through to the orgy... deemed true characters worthy of pleasure and Pharika's blessing. Finally finished, Lucifia stood back and gazed satisfied over the mass fuckfest. The acolytes were spread across the chamber, bent into all sorts of athletic and acrobatic positions to accommodate the eager thrusting cocks. By Lucifia's side, Alya gazed longingly at the orgy, her fingers jammed into her pussy, soft mews of desperate pleasure issuing from her lips. Oh how she wished to join her sisters... "Alya, aid your sisters for the pleasure of Pharika... I have pleasure with King Sebadorn." Alya leap with a yelp of glee into the writhing fuckfest. Within moments she was bucking energetically back against two cocks that invaded her ass and cunt, her hands closed over another pair of cocks with a fifth slapping her tongue.<br><br>Lucifia smiled lustfully at Sebadorn. Through the entire process she kept stealing glances at his thick strong manhood. Just like the man itself, it was tall, wide, and looked as if it were hugen from rock. Finally finished setting up the orgy, she moved to an open area of the room, especially set up for the pair of them. There were pillows and finger food laid out along the edges as Lucifia laid herself down, her forked tongue flickering out to lap against her engorged nipple. "Come my lord, and show me your desires..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>07-07-2014, 21:08:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				King Sebadorn understood well how Lucifia’s goddess had managed to never truly pass out of fashion. Despite his appearance, the massive muscular monarch was literate, and he had learnt his history and lore. The tales of the ages were riddled with the coming and passing of gods and goddesses. The ruined temples, their flanks crumbling under the elements, of Caermelor’s past deities were ample proof of that. If the gods were not immune to the wiles of men and women and the passing of time, how could kings? That was a question worth pondering, but not now.<br><br>He took a cup offered by one of the serpent priestesses and downed it in three swallows. It was a dark, sweet wine, infused with herbs and a potent mixture he suspected was drawn from the venom of snakes and special plants, yielding a most powerful aphrodisiac. It was not long before Sebadorn felt the fire of his loins ignite.<br><br>Where Phenax demanded penance and self-sacrifice, Pharika demanded devotion in a different manner. Nevertheless, she was no less bloodthirsty than the other gods, as proven by the growing number of spasming Phenax priests that refused to swear of their ruinous overlord. Instead of torment, Pharika offered satisfaction and power. Before his volcanic gaze, men and women coupled in carnal union in honour of the female deity. Fueled by wine, lust and the feverish beating of drums and cymbals, the priestesses, courtiers and renegades intensified their efforts to reach sexual climaxes until it would culminate in transcendence of mind and body and shuddering offerings to Pharika.<br><br>Sebadorn saw one priestess ‘servicing’ four men at the same time, her toned legs spread out to either side of an altar, with a young male thrusting up into her sloppy cunt with fervour. Another was driving his twitching cock into her ass, his broad back and bucking backside obstructing some of the marvellous view. Meanwhile the priestess had her mouth wrapped around the member of a male barely out of boyhood, who was shivering all over his body as a result of the woman’s expertly efforts. Her hand was caressing his balls and thighs, while her other one was tugging on the shaft of another new ‘initiate’. She added her vulgar moaning and incantations to the cacophony of rutting, fucking people. The beautiful priestess’s actions could never be called short of worship. The same went for her sisters, each and everyone occupied with venerating Pharika with sex or death, or a combination thereof.<br><br>In fact, as Sebadorn moved to a seating area, centrally located to enjoy the various views, he saw another of Lucifia’s sensual priestess riding a man into oblivion, her lush behind and juicy cunt flopping up and down on his rock-hard cock, whilst she strangled the life out of him. Her face was contorted in a sneer of disgust and bliss, her forked tongue thrashing wildly, as she came hard on the dying man’s throbbing manhood, collecting and milking his cum as he drew his last breath. One of her sisters slit his wrists to collect the blood and add it to the growing crimson pool in the centre of the room.<br><br>Sebadorn strode purposefully with the suppleness of a predator through the crowd, obliviously fucking and moaning on the rhythm of the drums and instinct. He had shed his own clothes as well, revealing his impressive chest, strong thighs and hulking frame. His body was reminiscent of a barbaric god of war, hewn from rock. The king was easily two heads taller than any of the other males present, and definitely the most physically impressive. Women had screamed their lungs out, and he had been compared to a bull often enough to know he was well-endowed. A priestess slid past him, her face coated in thick ropes of cum, her eyes glazed over with ecstasy caused by sex and drugs. He pushed her aside, and she fell back in the pile of slithering limbs, eager tongues and orifices. He grinned and sank down in the mountain of cushions and pillows.<br><br>Perhaps drinking that goblet of spiced, spiked wine had been a mistake?<br><br>No, that was foolish. This writhing mess of fucking, sucking and cumming was held in honour of his devotion to Pharika and her cult. His royal rod was standing up, proud and erect, yet he was far from ashamed when Lucifia came into view.<br><br>She truly was marvellous. The king felt his cock twitch at the -indeed- bare sight of her. “The way you handled that traitor was... exuberating, priestess,” he muttered as he waved for her to join him. “I applaud you,” he added and clapped his huge hands a few times.<br><br>Lucifia moved gracefully, looking at him seductively as she laid herself down on the pillows beside him. Sebadorn watched her fluid motions with hooded eyes, feasting on the vista of her smooth skin, voluptuous body and enchanting eyes. Her long, split tongue slithered out of her skilled mouth and flickered against her own, pierced nipple.<br><br>“Truly,” the king laughed as he rolled onto his side and slid a hand between her lush thighs, his callous palm and fingers finding the wet treasure that laid between. “You are a remarkable woman.” Then his mouth found hers, as her cuny melted into his hand. Theirs was a kiss born from lust and desire, ferocious and intense of nature. Then, the king moved his mouth down, to her neck and throat, his tongue gliding over her soft flesh. Sebadorn licked her nipples and squeezed her luscious tits with his free hand, continuing to massage her womanhood. His blood boiled with want, and he felt heat pulse from his stomach and cock. “I want you,” he whispered as he nibbled and bit at her, “I want to make you mine.”<br><br>With a growl he pried her legs apart, letting his hot gaze wander over Lucifia’s exposed, sensual body. She was writhing under him, teasing him with her fantastic body honed in sensuality and sex for years as a tribute to her Serpent Goddess. Sebadorn pressed her into the cushioned underground and pushed his enormous, throbbing cock into her wet, welcoming pussy. Her netherlips wrapped around the head and shaft of his veined pillar easily, drawing him as it were. He growled again, as he sank down entirely, driving his desperate manhood deeper and deeper. All she did was coo, moan and laugh delicately to encourage him to be rougher. Lucifia felt like sensuality incarnate in his arms.<br><br>The king needed no further encouragement and started moving his hips quickly, Lucifia’s legs now also wrapping around him. He felt her cunt tug at him, her walls clamping down as she pleasured his pistoning pole. Her screams only added to his vigour and arousal. Sebadorn bucked, hard and fast, fucking the skilled, desirable mother-priestess with reckless abandon. His cock drove into her like a primitive tool of sex and pleasure, without consideration of her well-being. Not that it was needed, for the priestess was wracked by delight with every wet, sloppy thrust. Her nails scratched his back, which only fuelled his wish to devour her utterly.<br><br>Sebadorn retreated, his cock coated in their juices. A demonic grin split his weathered face, as he stroked his manhood. He put his hand around the waist of the delicious priestess and threw her on her stomach, pulling her behind up. A playful slap on her firm behind, followed by a harder one cascaded off the walls, as the other attendants of the orgiastic ritual were also losing themselves in an alternating cadence of fucking, cumming... fucking and cumming.<br><br>The king mauled her thighs and ass with his rough hands as he drove his convulsing cock back into her hungry cunt. Using one hand to grab a fist full of her dark hair, the other to press his thumb into her asshole, Sebadorn managed to provide enough leverage for his primal, savage shoving and plunging of his royal cock.<br><br>When he neared his limit, he felt it building in his core, heat rising up from his balls and wriggling up his spine. Nevertheless, Sebadorn proceeded to thrust into his priestess, pushing in and out of her soaked pussy. The sound and scent of feverish fucking filled the room as her cunt contracted around his twitching manhood. She coaxed his climax, his cum skilfully. And when he spilled the wine of his orgasm, the king roared like an ancient dark god. Thick strands of cum squirted from his dick, as he shivered all over. His muscles rippled under his skin like cords. After emptying his balls, he fell back into the pillows, gasping for air, shaking with bliss. The air felt cool against his wet member, still slick with their combined mess, their offering to Pharika.<br><br>“Does this...” Sebadorn needed some more time to catch his breath after the violent dicking he gave the lustrous, lustful Lucifia with great enjoyment. “Please Pharika?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>07-07-2014, 23:09:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lucifia had to restrain her eagerness as she saw Sebadorn approach. She was meant to be head priestess of Pharika. She was supposed to be regal, dangerous, and aloft. However, she had to suppress her eager beating heart as he stepped over her onto the pillows, his erection strong and hard, pulsing and twitching like a living creature. Pharika's blessed venom coursed through her veins, and she could feel her body slick and sweaty, already pushing her into heat. Slithering to his side, she lay near him, leaning against his broad shoulder. Her hand unconsciously roaming over his muscular chest...gods she loved the masculine physique. Their eyes met for a split second, and each one knew. Sure they were coupling for the ritual, but each would have willingly fucked the other senseless on any other day.<br><br>She gave an involuntary gasp, as his strong hand pressed against her thighs, his fingers parting her divine sex. Her breath caught in her throat, as he reached deeper, his fingers reaching farther than many cocks she had experienced before. His lips captured her, holding her in erotic bliss as she closed her eyes, her serpentine tongue wrapping around his as she moaned into him. She felt his power, his need, his raw desire, and she returned it in kind. Leaning into him, her kiss was hungry, lustful...almost...raw and primal. She yielded to his strength as he pushed her onto her back, his hands sliding down her body to her breasts. The beautiful sensitive orbs like putty in his hands.<br><br>"Ah....Sebadorn...you want me?" she whispered with a smile. Her eyes turned hard and lustful as she stroked her hand through his hair. "Then show me you raw power... take me! Take ALL of it!" Her legs fell eagerly apart, her delicate flower pink and steaming. The first thrust split Lucifia open, a groan of delight ripping from her throat. "Do not be shy, my king... be ruthless... take what you want!" Her moans quickly mounted to screams as his cock began slamming deep into her cunt. The wet slap of his balls against her ass echoed loudly through the room. He was a wild animal, fucking and plowing Lucifia's body like she was his bitch... his piece of cuntmeat to be fucked. And Lucifia loved it. She loved every moment of her obscene near-rape, her cunt gushing with juice as she came again and again. She barely registered being turned on her stomach, the rough pounding resuming as she felt his finger enter her asshole. She clenched hard, moaning as she buried her face in the pillows, giving herself completely to the overwhelming pleasure. A sharp tug on her hair woke her up once more, as she gazed across the room towards her acolytes<br><br>She was very proud of the way they were handling themselves. Like true lustful fucksluts... worshipers of Pharika. All around the powerful duo, the Acolytes were collecting their tributes. Splattered with cum and blood, they were lost in the erotic frenzy of the orgy. Alya in particular had thrown herself body and soul into the ritual. Her smooth whispers pushing her men to their inevitable orgasms. "More... harder!....fuck me...take me again!" she moaned, as for the forth time she felt a thick hard cock erupt inside her, this time deep in her asshole. Other Acolytes were equally occupied... sticky white cum dripping down their shining bodies as they slide over each other, eagerly chasing the next hard cock. Alya turned her head just as the cock in her hand erupted, a series of wet spurts of cum splashing across her face. She opened her mouth eagerly, not minding the thick deluge of jizz that saturated her hair. "Mmmm show me your devotion... paint me with your seed!" she growled, as her mouth closed over the jetting cock.<br><br>Behind her, she could sense Sebadorn's impending orgasm, and she welcomed it. Her bucking body humping back against his thrusting hips as his pace increased, faster and faster, his cock slamming harder and harder into her soaked and sloppy hole. Timing her moment, she gripped his cock suddenly, her cunt closing like a velvet vice around the shaft as he exploded inside her. The warmth of his orgasm spread through Lucifia's body as she accepted the king's cum eagerly. As he fell back to the pillows, she turned round to him. Sliding her tongue out, she wrapped it around his still twitching cock, coaxing the last potent drop and slurping it up. All the while her serpentine eyes gazed over him lustfully. "Pharika will be pleased, my king.... she enjoys watching her worshipers getting fucked hard...losing themselves to the obscene pleasure of sex!"<br><br>Lucifia rose slowly, her glowing green eyes still throbbing with lust as she moved to lie in the middle of room. One by one her acolytes joined her, forming a circle around the statue of Pharika. Lying on their backs in the blood and cum, they began chanting slowly. Together their sibilant voices raised the hairs on the back of Sebadorn's neck, as the statue of Pharika began to glow...the twin snakes flashing brightly as they suddenly came to life. The two enormous serpents hissed lowly slithering across Pharika's arms toward the prone women. One snake lowered itself to the ground, its fangs fastening onto the floor as it drank up the blood. The other searched along the bodies of the women, caressing their breast, and slithering between their legs.<br><br>Suddenly the serpent hissed and rushed between Alya's legs, its pointed snout slamming into her drooling cunt. Alya screamed out with pleasure as it thrashed and shook, burrowing deeper into her sensitive cumsoaked pussy as it drained her offering. Alya's body arched and spasmed as Pharika took her tribute. Her eyes dimmed back to their normal light, her fangs receded, and her tongue fused back together into a human tongue. With a final shuddering orgasm Alya collapsed back to the floor as her cunt juices squirted over the snake's head, cleaning it...before it rammed home into her ass. Once again Alya's mind burst into a kaleidoscope of pleasure, her body wracked with wave after wave of mind numbing orgasms. It was too much for her, and she passed out just as the snake withdrew from her and turned to he next Acolyte. Pharika's snake proceeded around the circle, each woman screaming her orgasmic delight as her offerings were drained from each well-fucked hole.<br><br>The blood snake finished draining the blood from the floor just as the cum snake finished off the 8th Acolyte. Now only Lucifia lay conscious in front of Pharika, her supple tanned legs parted slightly as both snakes loomed over her, their tongues slithering out. "Great Mistress Pharika...please accept our tribute on behalf of Sebadorn, King of Caermelor. Accept his offering and declaration of support and bless his endeavours as he faces our mutual enemies." The emerald eyes of the statue glowed brilliant green as the two enormous snakes dove simultaneously for Lucifia's crotch. One stretched out her asshole, wriggling inside her bowels. The other impaled her through her cunt, causing juice and cum to splatter the ground as it squeezed in. Lucifia groaned and gasped, the two snakes working in tandem to saw in and out of her fuckholes. Her hands groped her tits firmly, kneading the ample breasts and twisting her turgid nipples. A green mist formed around her body as she was lifted into the air before the statue.<br><br>The two snakes glowed and throbbed, Sebadorn's fertile tribute visibly traveling from Lucifia's cunt into the statue. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body began thrash and shake. The green mist spread throughout the room, swirling around Sebadorn where he stood. He could hear the hissing whispers from beyond as the two snakes withdrew from Lucifia's seizing body. Her eyes snapped open, her tongue flicking out spasmodically as she was lowered to the ground. Her entire body glowed with power, new tattoos appearing across her smooth flawless skin. Standing tall, she strode though the admiring crowd back to Sebadorn.<br><br>The Acolytes formed a kneeling circle in the green mist around Sebadorn. Lucifia looked like a goddess herself. Her blazing eyes fixed on Sebadorn's ice blue eyes. Her tongue slithered out and licked his neck as she slowly fell to her knees. "Pharika has blessed us, my king. You will have the power you seek, as the price you paid was satisfactory." She opened her mouth, showing her fangs as she slide her lips over Sebadorn's still erect cock. As she sucked on his manhood she also blew. Glowing energy flowed from her to him through their erotic fellatio. Sebadorn's muscles swelled, his eyes flashing green as strength and power swelled in him. On his shoulder, the coiled snake tattoo appeared, a mark of Pharika's favor for her champion. The green mists swirl faster and faster, imbuing Sebadorn's loyal courtesans and followers with similar but lesser blessings.<br><br>When Lucifia finally rose to her feet, she looked as normal as a head priestess could. Her flawless skin still sweaty and shining, her eyes still swirling green, and her tongue still slitted. But her fangs has receded, and she appeared slightly tired. Behind her, the statue of Pharika was gone, vanished into the green mists that now faded from the room. There was no blood on the floor, nor a single drop of cum on the Acolytes. Everything was clean and dry. Not a single drop of potent essence was wasted. There was not a single trace that a ritual was even performed. "The ritual is complete...you have Pharika's blessings, my king. Your loyal subjects are stronger, you have gained the foresight of Pharika...and as long as you remain loyal to her..."Lucifia waved her Acolytes forward, each one of them kneeling to the king. "...You will have Pharika's Vipers...our best agents." Lucifia remained motionless as the Acolytes dressed her, then dressed themselves. <br><br>With her Vipers, Lucifia glided from the room. "I shall rest tonight...and tomorrow, we shall discuss the order in which you will vanquish your foes!" she cast a lustful glance over at Sebadorn, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile as she licked her lips. She was going to enjoy this partnership very much.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>08-07-2014, 11:51:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pharika truly was fearsome and mighty, for her magic managed to pierce the veil between the real world and the spirit world. Her female acolytes had given and taken with primal energy, collecting blood and cum with mindless lust, their body and soul consumed with the desire to mate, to fuck and climax. The nubile priestesses had acted like proper cumsluts, hungry for the male orgasm and essence.<br><br>Sebadorn worked himself up on his elbows when Lucifia removed her skilled mouth and forked tongue from his aching cock. Even though he had taken her, like a wild, rabid beast took his bitch, he felt he would not tire of her. She had pleased him greatly, her cunt and mouth and burning skin unlike anything he had experienced before. They said fucking a woman after a particular bloody battle was the epitome of feeling alive, but now the king knew that to be untrue.<br><br>Green mist filled the room, covering the writhing bodies enjoying the post-coital sensations that the unbelievable and ecstatic orgy had bestowed on them. Eyes had rolled back into their sockets as men and women alike shook with receding pleasure, oblivious to the cum and blood drained corpses of the traitors. The blanketing ethereal mist prickled his skin, as the goddess herself manifested in the twin snakes that were here attributes.<br><br>Sebadorn felt a strange arousal rise up in his core as he watched the nubile priestesses be violated by the scaled creatures. Obviously they experienced bliss and orgasms of the same or greater intensity due to the slithering serpents. Under incantations, the priestesses were drained from their offerings as they spasmed in delight. Pharika claimed what was hers. He felt a particular rush of excitement when Lucifia received the full attention of both snakes, mercilessly penetrating her to clear her of his affections and juices.<br><br>As she regained her footing, new markings appeared on her flawless, caramel skin. The tattoos seemingly having a life of their own, dancing on her flesh as if to make room for new ones. The king saw something similar happen with the despoiled acolytes that had resorted to chanting a chorus in a long forgotten language. Their hissing echoed through the foggy room. The king merely nodded in response to her reporting the success of the fornicate ritual.<br><br>Once again, lustrous Lucifia took his massive cock in her mouth, sending waves of pleasure through him. However, instead of just that, Sebadorn also discerned a growing power emanating from his groin, from Lucifia’s wet tongue. Her expert lips and bobbing head kept him and his twitching pillar of man-meat in rigid position while the divine blessing ruptured through him. Something burned on his shoulderblade and arm, and when he looked he saw a coiled snake etched into his skin. Lucifia claimed it to be a mark of Pharika’s champion, and he believed her, for he felt stronger and faster, as if the sensual goddess herself cast her eye on him.<br><br>He breathed in deeply, his palm resting on Lucifia’s hip, mildly squeezing her plump buttocks. “Very well... I thank you, priestess, for enlightening us. I shall rename my own warriors. Henceforth they will be known as the Serpent Guard, sworn to me and the glory of Pharika.” Sebadorn would send them in small detachments to the temple to receive blessings of their own, and enjoy the fine women that served the goddess with their bodies. It was a double sacrifice, for the soldiers would gladly lend their lifeforce and essence, coaxed out of them by willing mouths, cunts and asses. The warriors would enjoy themselves, find support with Pharika, and Sebadorn would be the one responsible for their offering. He imagined Lucifia would be pleased.<br><br>His vision was blurry, and his mind foggy, and so Sebadorn ill-remembered how he had reached the safety of his personal quarters. When he slept, his soul was wracked with dreams, sexual and horrible in nature. Reptiles coiled around him, hissed in his ear and caressed his troubled thoughts. He felt constricted, and deep down realised it was Pharika’s influence wrestling with him, making a home inside of him. When he woke, his cock was hard as granite and caused him to desperately bring himself to climax. Sebadorn spit on his hand for lubricant, Lucifia’s scent still on his throbbing, veined member, as he worked it fast and with determination. When he came, he deposited it in an obsidian bowl, the edge decorated with runes. How he did not know, but one of the priestesses appeared every time he had shot his cum there. He figured it was the after-effect of the drug-infused wine, the mating with Lucifia, and the crazed ritual that made him spill his seed half a dozen times more that night...<br><br>When morning came, he felt tired and stretched, but strong nonetheless. As he bathed, he noticed large stretches of skin coming loose under his touch. The new flesh underneath was harder and rougher than previously, as if covered in the tiniest of scales.<br><br>This time, Sebadorn visited the Sisterhood of Pharika on their own grounds, not afraid of entering their den of death, fornication and desire for he was the goddess’s chosen champion. A messenger had been sent at daylight, to inform the pyramid and its temple-staff of his coming by noon. He intended to dine with the head-priestess, and discuss matters of state.<br><br>The king was clad in a scaled pteruges, and bronze greaves. Large bands of gold, inlaid with a motive of coiling snakes hung around his infused muscular arms. A purple cloak flowed down from his massive shoulders, connected in the front with a serpent-pin. Sebadorn had taken great caution to adopt Pharika into his wardrobe, on such short notice.<br><br>His voice rumbled like distant thunder when he spoke. “I hope the night has given you ample rest. I still seem to suffer from the exercise, my high-priestess.” Sebadorn draped himself in a free seat, adopting a confident, but polite air. He was indeed king, but a king visiting the highest servant of a powerful and vengeful deity.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>08-07-2014, 23:09:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				That night, Lucifia slept blissfully. Her dreams were filled with thick coils of a serpentine monster. With her was Sebadorn, his eyes slit like hers, his smile strong and lustful. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her easily off her feet. All around them were the dead corpses of other animals, representing different gods that had risen and fallen. They were naked, and his thick strong cock had already plundered her delicious sex. The oozing dripping cum running down her thighs evidence enough of their coupling. Unrelenting, she mounted him once more, his cock seeking her ass. It was mind numbingly pleasurable, her orgasms endless. She let her mind go in the dream, enjoying the blissful coupling...but it was all interrupted with a loud roar. Instantly the powerful serpent uncoiled from them to rear up before the new threat. A savage Ogre stood in the distance, proud and stern. Its roar matched the vicious hiss of the snake. Both titans surged forward, fangs outstretched. And as they collided... Lucifia awoke.<br><br>She lay awake for a moment, gathering her thoughts. The silky satin sheets felt warm on her skin, a nice contrast to the dozens of snakes that slithered over her naked skin. So... a lion would challenge the snake for dominance. Well that would be decided later. First she had to establish true power of Pharika in the city. The great Pyramid of Pharika gleamed in the morning sun, a plume of grey smoke floated up from the top as the acolytes lit a ritual fire in the centre of it's great mass. Alya ran her hand along the silk scarf in the doorway, her hand sliding across the smooth fabric to produce a sibilant hiss. Standing at the edge of the snakepit, she bowed deeply, "Mistress, Sebadorn, King, has arrived as expected." Lucifia nodded and rose from the snake pit, the hissing serpents slithered off her as she stepped out. Pausing by Alya, Lucifia lifted her chin with her hand, "You did wonderfully last night, Alya. You show great promise." She planted a lustful kiss on her lips. Her tongue slithering into her mouth and around Alya's tongue." Lucifia slipped off as Alya collapsed, panting from the sheer pleasure and honour of kissing the Head Priestess.<br><br>She was lying on a luxurious bench when Sebadorn entered. He looked even better than he did the first time she laid eyes on him. "I slept wonderfully, my king. Our rituals were rewarded with visions." She rose to her feet, resplendent in a new flowing gold and green snakeskin dress. "You shall march north, to face the Ogres. They are god-born monsters, and not easily swayed. But first... we must hold your coronation ceremony! We shall show the city who is king, and what happens to those who oppose him." She smiled, and rose from her seat to take Sebadorn's hand. Mounting the spiral staircase, she lead him up the long trek to the summit - the platform at the very peak of the pyramid.<br><br>As Lucifia stepped out onto the platform at the summit of the pyramid, the skies darkened. Brilliant blue deepened into poisonous green and grey as dark stormclouds gathered overhead. An enormous crowd had formed outside the pyramid, almost the entire population of the city of Caermelor had come forth to the swirling vortex of smoke that reached for the skies. Everyone from the poorest beggar to the richest merchant stood in wonder. With her voice magically magnified, she addressed the gathering. "People of Caemelor, your King has chosen the path of Pharika, and she has blessed him. You who have supported your new king, will receive blessing too!"<br><br>Overhead, the vortex swirled and warped, it's massless form suddenly forming an enormous cobra snake. The colossal serpent towered across the city, it's eyes glowing green as it spat dark stormclouds across the skies. "Pharika rewards those who worship her, and punish those who do not!" She gazed back at Sebadorn, his skin gleaming in the golden-green light of the sky. "Well, my King? Are you ready to live forever?" She laughed as she suddenly launched herself recklessly from the summit, gracefully diving away from the tower. Somersaulting skillfully, she landed on her feet as she slid down the side of the massive pyramid. Flipping off the building to land with serpentine grace among the populous, Lucifia strolled through the throng towards the Phenax Zigurat.<br><br>The dark heavens opened up and emptied upon Caermelor, acid rain lashing the city. The crowd screamed and gasped as it burned through stitch and stone. For many of them, the rain burned away their disease, their pain and suffering. Pharika's blessing renewed their health, and brought youth and strength to the loyal citizens. But it was no so for everyone. Those among the crowd who had opposed Sebadorn for their own reasons were less fortunate. The acid burned like fire, melting their skin from their bones. Their screams went unheeded, ignored by the grateful faithful. In a matter of moments, the streets were filled with only loyal subjects...naked and virile. Lust filled their minds as they finally saw each others bodies. Jealousy was forgotten as they pounced on each other. Orgies forming in the streets, the small streams on the road mixing with cum.<br><br>Steam and smoke rose as buildings began dissolving... but only some of them. The great libraries of Caermelor remained strong, the rain bringing crystals to strengthen it's foundations. The armoury and forges shone with renewed brightness as the acid washed away rust and limescale. The walls were scoured clean, all foot and hand holds erased from their surfaces. Even the city streets themselves were cleansed of filth and grime. Cheers from the crowds greeted Lucifia and Sebadorn as they strode through the shining streets. Lucifia enjoyed their worship, the obscene and wanton gangbangs and orgies... but she had a greater prize in mind.<br><br>Arriving at the Phenax Zigurat, she pointed imperiously at the temple and to the priests within. "Your old king is dead! The puppet on the throne cast aside for a true leader!" Under the deluge of searing rain, the temple began to weaken. The pillars cracked and tumbled. Decorations and carvings melted to nothing. Within, she could see bright flashes of blue magic, as the brotherhood struggled in vain to defend their temple. With a howling crash, the temple roof caved in, the walls listing dangerously before falling inwards, crushing many of the Phenax priests. Lucifia laughed cruelly as the surviving Phenax priests escaped the collapsing ruin, only to be met by the Pharika Vipers and Acolytes, their bodies falling rapidly with the slightest scratch of a poisoned claw or fang.<br><br>Lucifia stepped through the rubble towards the centre room of the temple. With all four walls and roof dissolved away, the central statue of Phenax stood alone and vulnerable. It was magical, and resisted the acid rain of the Pharika storm. Its eyes shown brilliant blue, as if attempting to defy Pharika. Lucifia strode forward, her eyes blazing bright green in response as she raised her hands to the sky. A large ball of green mist flowed around her fingers as she brought both hands slashing down across the statue. There was a brilliant burst of blue light as the statue sundered, shattering into pieces. A distant howl of despair and rage sounded from within as Phenax's influence was snuffed. Lucifia threw her head back and hissed triumphat at the skies, her Acolytes taking up the call until the city vibrated with their call.<br><br>Still panting with exhilaration and excitement, Lucifia turned to Sebadorn. "My King! Ready your army, we march north to victory against the Ogres!"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>18-07-2014, 19:38:51</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				What happened that day affirmed Sebadorn’s faith in the power of Pharika, but it also begged the question of what strength the other gods possessed. Over the ages, Caermelor had known many gods, strange, exotic and even ascetic religions had dug their talons in a gullible population. However, with as many gods came as many purgings, and the capital had experienced its fair share of religious conflict. Deities were ousted, consumed in fires, thrown to pieces their marble statues shattered and their temples laid low. Great plumes of smoke, fuelled by the systematic cleansing of Phenax from the city, billowed up into the sky.<br><br>When the priestesses swarmed out from Pharika’s pyramid, Sebadorn had his warriors follow them. It was important to have his presence seen in the street, together with the sorceresses of the serpent goddess. He had toyed with powers beyond the worldly and this gave him a little sense of control, how illusionary it might be.<br><br>Lucifia was the one orchestrating these events, summoning acid rain that washed the city of disloyalty and non-believers. Dust was caught in the deluge that soaked the city with its magical properties. All around the citizens marvelled and were affected by it. Buildings fumed as they dissolved, while those important to their endeavour remained strong. The Goddess was kind in her blessing, the king thought. The temple priestesses were everywhere, like snakes stirred from the den, coordinating orgies that filled the streets as the people seemed to lose their senses due to the rain and mist Pharika was sending. Sebadorn saw that some of his warriors had joined the frenzy of fornication, their cocks sheathed to the hilt in cunt and ass alike. It was all part of the offering, though, so he allowed them to continue their frantic fucking.<br><br>The clouds overhead were ominous, and when Lucifia struck down the false idols of Phenax, Sebadorn could merely nod in approval. Their weak magic were no match for the mighty high-sorceress whom he had so thoroughly fucked only yesterday. The memory was still fresh in his mind, embedded into his core.<br><br>Phenax’s essence was expunged, dismissed like an annoying fly. Lucifia, marvellous in her terror, turned and looked him in the eye with a hunger and obsession he too shared. “Yes,” he agreed to her suggestion to march north towards the ogre-threat. “I will sound the drums and gather the banners. Shall you join us on our campaign or remain in Caermelor, High-Priestess?”<br><br>There was little course for alarm now, for the city had been purged of the unfaithful. The Phenax temple treasures and those confiscated from the treacherous citizens that had neglected to bend the knee to Pharika and Sebadorn, were divided between the Sisterhood and the palace’s coffers. It would ensure Sebadorn of enough funds to keep the bureaucratic system running, and pay his soldiers and levies.<br><br>The king sent an adjutant to convey his orders to his army. Two companies would head west to face the savages and keep them at bay, long enough for Sebadorn to successfully campaign against the ogres and then join up with the troops defending the western marches. The burly monarch hoped to conclude the battle against the freakish invaders as soon as possible, so he could beat the encroaching barbarians before the year was out. Perhaps the swift offensives would throw off Valserion’s son who was gathering support in the south, or at least make him think twice before waylaying Sebadorn’s right to rule.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>18-07-2014, 21:52:53</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Lucifia's crotch was openly soaked as she walked through the orgy strewn streets of Caemelor back towards the palace with King Sebadorn. Everyone old enough to participate in the debauched celebrations was out in the open, their minds infused with lust and desire. In the flickering light of the torches, she could see a group of girls and boys, just barely into adulthood. They were all half naked and soaking wet with the magical rain, moaning and gasping with orgasmic pleasure as they rutted and fucked without inhibition. Cum spurted easily from erect twitching cocks into moist slutty pussy, tight virgin ass, and eager open mouths. The temple acolytes moved smoothly among the revelers, collecting their offering without interfering with the loving couples and triples. Lucifia smiled. So much sexual tribute from both genders of the city. King Sebadorn's troops would be powerful indeed when it came to battle, and they would need to be.<br><br>As she passed the Temple of Erebos, she stole a glance at the entrance. The single lone priest of Erebos stood in the doorway, a ceremonial mask of death on his face. Lucifia slowed her pace for a moment, locking eyes with the hidden face of the priest. He gave her the slightest nod, before withdrawing into his temple. Lucifia gave a hidden sigh of relief. While the many temples waged war with each other over the centuries, there were a few key gods that never initiated war, and never lost a war waged on them. Erebos was one. He was too powerful...the god of Death. Lucifia knew the time was not right for Pharika to challenge him...not yet.<br><br>Slowly the acid clouds of Pharika faded away, but the towering snake remained, overseeing the continued public orgy. Eventually the snake too would depart and the orgies would cease, but that would not be until morning the next day. There was enough time for the soldiers of Sebadorn to enjoy themselves to the fullest. No doubt many of the soldiers had spied beauties among the villagers that they desperately wanted to fuck...to split open with their cocks...to hold down and hear them scream. Well today was their chance, as those same beauties were now roaming the streets, their hearts and bodies open for all who wished to enjoy them. The young supple bodies gleamed with uninhibited sexual desire in the wet streets. She knew no one would attempt to attack the city at the height of Pharika's influence. It would be suicide.<br><br>Lucifia nodded and bowed in deference to the king. Her day's work was done, and now the military campaign could begin in earnest. "Please...call me Lucifia. I expect we shall become more intimately aquinted no? Of course, I shall accompany you, your highness on the campaign." she said.&nbsp; "You will desire my magical skills too wage war against these ogres...and I will desire you." she smiled at his suggestive glance. "Pharika smiles upon desires being satisfied, and regular tribute from yourself will strengthen our connection to her. I'm sure you would not object, my King?"<br><br>Part of her priestess training was to pore over the ancient tomes of other gods, studying their creature. She was well versed in all the mythical creatures that could be summoned, including their strengths and weaknesses. The Ogres were a very poweful, but simple mythical force to deal with. They were the powerful battering rams of the gods. Huge tough-skinned siege engines that were nearly impervious to arrow fire, and especially skilled at taking down fortifications and entrenched positions. Lucifia marveled that Sebadorn's human force had held for so long without magical support. Speaking at the council of war with Sebadorn and the Generals, Lucifia outlaid her opinion.<br><br>"Gentlemen, your majesty, I am not a woman of war. I am a priestess. The strategies you use in this fight are yours to determine. Your warfare experience far exceeds my own." she began. She had opted to wear a more conservative priestess attire, lest she distract the generals. Oddly, the less skin she showed, the more sensual promise her body suggested. "I can only advise you on how to handle the Ogres, and if needed... the Minotaurs." She leaned across the table, smiling indulgently as she felt Sebadorn's hand run over her ass. "As you can see on this theatre of war, the Ogres repeatedly assault the walls during the day, then retreat for the night, only to return again come morning. Ogres can not be overcome by brute force, and the walls will not stand for long. They must die...by poison!"<br><br>A murmur ran through the generals, they seemed to approve the plan. "But, priestess, our arrows and spears have had no effect. Many do not even peirce their thick leather armour, and who knows how hard their hides are!" said one general. Lucifia nodded in agreement. "Yes General, and this is why we can not rely on a single penetration." she gave a sly wink at Sebadorn with the inuendo. "You must engage the Ogres before dawn in their own camp. Using these..." she drew a small round bottle from her sleeve. The contents frothed and swirled. Walking around the table, she held it out to show all. "Asp Poison... mixed with the Red Widow Spider's venom. The farmers will recognize the Asp's Poison by another name - Cow Killer. It is well known to dissolve leather and hide, exposing the muscle and tendons. And you all know Red Widow as the most venomous spider known in the land. A single droplet can fell twenty men, or one ogre."<br><br>Lucifia returned to the head of the table, taking her seat on Sebadorn's lap. With her legs crossed, she ground down on him, "You must strike with your fastest and most accurate sling-men. Hurl the bombs on the ogres. They will stampede their own camps, destroying everything. A cavalry charge will clean up the rest of the survivors." The generals were pumped, eager to fight with the backing of a powerful god. Before long, Lucifia found herself in the middle of the royal convoy heading north to the border. With her were her elite group of Viper Women.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>21-07-2014, 18:48:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Cileria, Caermelor, the Palace</strong><br><br>Sebadorn listened as Lucifia shared her battleplan with the rest of his war-council, for a priestess, she had quite the grasp on warfare. Yet she admitted otherwise. That was… political of her to flatter his generals. Their loyalty was fresh and untried by hardship. Undoubtedly the Pharika temple was filled to the brim with books and tomes, many of which held knowledge and insights on strategy and tactics. Additionally, the ogres were born of a god, and who better to enlighten them than a similar entity?<br><br>Lucifia shared with them her stratagem, including the use of a special poison her sisterhood fabricated. The king was not surprised, for the avatar of their deity was a serpent. Though poison was a woman’s weapon, Sebadorn did not feel above employing it against such a strong opponent. The ogres were unrelenting and massive, hardly giving him and his troops a fair fight. Up the stakes and up them again, was his creed. He would use any means to lay the invaders low, and now he had allied himself with a priesthood of sensual assassins, equally skilled in sexual depravity as in killing.<br><br>The king pursed his thin lips when she winked at him after making the pun. Her vicinity caused his veins to burn and his fingers to itch. Their union was as much a governmental as a passionate one. He lusted for her, and she for him. As if to illustrate their relationship, Lucifia strutted over to his side and sat down in his lap, her taut ass wiggled into his groin, stoking the fires of desire.<br><br>Three days later, Sebadorn’s army left Caermelor. The king and his high-priestess stood atop the balcony where they had had their first clandestine conversation, where Lucifia had first shown her goddess’s power by slaying a Phenax spy with a conjured snake. The sun illuminated her skin, making it sparkle as if it were covered in thousands of minuscule scales. She was naked, her body marked with his handprints and teeth after their unending love-making of the night. He had devoured her and she him in turn.<br><br>He pressed up behind her, nestling his morning erection between her firm buttcheeks, his hands wandering along her sides only to settle on her wrists resting on the balcony. They were clad in the vestments of empire and power, what use was clothing anyway? Sebadorn groaned in her ear. “Morning, Lucifia, my sweet.” As he spoke, he nipped at her ear and neck.<br><br>Below, rows on rows of armed men were marching in unison on the beat of war drums. The sound reverberated through the cleansed city. The sun that illumed Lucifia’s silky skin, glinted on the tips of spears, helmets, decorated shields and armour. Intent on victory, the army had polished every bit of metal and tack to a brilliance to impress the people of Caermelor.<br><br>As the vanguard exited the main gate, their horned helmets on, carrying their huge maces and singing a war-song, Sebadorn got on his knees and kissed the small of Lucifia’s back until his lips trailed further south and he could bite her toned ass. The priestess pressed her behind back, revealing the sweet fruity cores the king was aching for. While one of his hand started stroking her thigh, the other roamed to her front, pinched an erect nipple and descended to her hidden clit. He started massaging it, while the rest of the armed forces followed the impressive mace-men. Meanwhile, Sebadorn lapped at her sphincter for a bit, before tonguing her ass with abandon. From there, he moved to her womanhood, nibbling her flesh gently. She put one lush leg on the balustrade to allow him better access.<br>(http://33.media.tumblr.com/f22b07bef9d9ded461ef70a198f648c0/tumblr_n7g3ecUItY1spi3b6o1_500.gif)<br><br>He dug his hands into her full ass-cheeks and buried his face between them to reach her divine cunt. She grinded her ass back into him, and he pulled her down to get deeper. The king was skilled, his long tongue sliding between her puffy wet lips and into her pussy. It was as if with the infusion of Pharika, and him becoming her champion, his tongue had become prehensile, capable of grabbing and holding things. Sebadorn used this newfound ability to invade his priestess’s sex with pleasure.<br>(http://38.media.tumblr.com/6db4a0aa62f7b4e61333b5b17fd1076a/tumblr_n42rz94NOS1rfo533o4_500.gif)<br><br>When the king ascended from her soaking slit, he did so with a wet squelchy slap, his mouth and cheeks covered in spit and cunt-juice. Sebadorn slapped her behind, and moved so he could align his member with Lucifia’s dripping cuny. He started rubbing his royal cock between her wet lips, hitting her swollen clit with his cockhead, and dragging it back and forward a few times before finally plunging it deep inside her. He was thick, hungry and his hard cock rasped at the walls of her sex. He reached forward grabbing her dark hair destroying the traditional braiding that ran through it, ribbons and jewels scattering across the floor as he tugged get her back. They’d need to do it again, but no matter. The soldiers wouldn’t leave the city entirely by noon. ‘t Was not long before Sebadorn released her hair again, and to make up for the lost leverage, he licked his thumb and put it up her asshole. The sphincter opened and closed around it much like a flower would, and he felt it massage his appendix.<br>(https://31.media.tumblr.com/1025df36bdccff82925d6a898c9b819b/tumblr_munik2DfSE1s3v3ezo1_500.gif)<br><br>The more troops walked out through the gate, the harder Sebadorn thrusted. By the time the main force had left, he was mercilessly pounding her soaking wet cunt from behind. Lucifia’s screams and gasps had drawn some attention from the crowd that had gathered to wave the king’s indomitable soldiers farewell. Treated on their monarch and high-priestess fucking wildly above their heads, some of them cheered. They were quickly joined by others as the king powered through, milling his cock in Lucifia’s warm, welcoming and dripping cunt.<br>(http://38.media.tumblr.com/49cd411d01d30390901a23717afa9de7/tumblr_n8m4niQHIU1r7kdhoo1_400.gif)<br><br>When the silver trumpets sounded, sending off the cavalry that would guard the rear, Sebadorn felt her pussy walls clamping down, contracting on his cock. She was cumming, not the first time, most likely, but this was the most intense one yet. She screamed a guttural scream of ecstasy, and he gasped as his large, muscular body quivered. Her cunt was really milking him for his cum and after a few more dozen thrust he could no longer resists, pouring forth his seed in copious amounts –an offering to Lucifia, and offering to Pharika. Thick strands shot deep inside of her, and his pistoning pole twitched at the pleasure, cumming.<br>(http://38.media.tumblr.com/bb1ea3c556eb69390830f34a1e648af5/tumblr_n448va4vCd1r60ngyo1_500.gif)<br><br>“Do you feel every drop filling your greedy cunt?” he gasped, out of breath and satisfied. He was already used to praising Pharika in this way, and he loved every thing about it.<br><br><hr><br><strong>Quileia, Altamora</strong><br><br>“To the king! Long may he live!”<br><br>Crispin heard the toasts to the king even before he entered the throne room. The chamber was near bursting by now, as evident by the scores of servants and low nobility lining the great decorated doors. The palace in Altamora, capital of Quileia, was filled with nobles from throughout the kingdom and those from the north who had fled the usurper’s butchers. They had all arrived to celebrate, to honour his Majesty’s nameday.<br><br>“To King Cynbar!”<br><br>Of course, neither honour nor celebrate might not be quite the words for it. The native Quileians were terrified the young king would strip them of their lands and titles, as he had done to so many of their fellows in punishment of some crime or slight, real or imagined. The Cilerians, those members of the aristocracy who had chosen to seek their fortunes away from Sebadorn’s rule and had been given those stripped lands, feared much the same. The king, after all, was a bored and capricious member of an ancient lineage, who had been sent to assume the Quileian throne at the behest of his father. It was only after he had angered the late Valserion, that he had accepted the position as vice-king of Quileia. Rumour had it that he had fornicated with his sisters and cousins, most of them dead now. When Sebadorn had slain his father, the ‘vice’ part was dropped, though it was very, very applicable for other reasons. Crispin smirked at the pun. With his father’s death, and those of his elder brothers, Cynbar thought he had inherited Valserion’s authority, and figured that made him a king. However, the young prodigal Cilerian realised that knowing how to dance, bathe, banter and call yourself king did not make you so in the eyes of others. Cynbar took out his disgruntlement and displeasure on subjects who had little choice but to bow to his whims. The young ‘king’ would do as he wished, and would not be denied.<br><br>Just as he did with his court, Crispin thought, looking around the open room, purple drapes hanging from the walls. Young women were walking around, naked, except for the odd single silk scarf and expensive jewellery. They were all beautiful, with gems attached to their belly-buttons and gold piercings in their nipples and clithoods. Some of them sported sensual tattoos as they meandered through the room where Cynbar held court. Some of those women were whores and courtesans, but many of them were younger daughters of noble families, acting as hostages and pleasure toys for Cynbar’s impulses. One of them sat on her knees in front of the youthful monarch, her head bobbing up and down dutifully in front of his groin. Wet slurping sounds came from the woman, as she tended to the king’s cock, her skilled hands squeezing and twisting his shaft while her spit dripped from his balls, pooling at the bottom of the throne. Crispin heard the moans and slurps of one of Cynbar’s many celebrations, and he figured it would be Jacia who was causing them.<br><br>Cynbar was a tyrant, and one did not honour nor celebrate tyrants; one appeased them. No wonder the grand-daughter, Jacia, of the last independent king of Quileia was now sucking his dick – with the appropriate gusto it seemed. Cynbar had only been on the throne for less than a year, but already he had broken many a spirit. After the initial weeks and a failed hunger strike, Jacia had collapsed and sworn in her new life of Cynbar’s toy and plaything. One of many…<br><br>The nobility put on a great show of adoration for their beloved sovereign, indulging his depravity and partaking in his orgiastic feasts. Their smiles were a thin veneer covering their terror, their servile women a sacrifice much hated. The king, meanwhile, knew the nobles were acting. The nobility understood this, but also knew that the charade and service was still required of them, nevertheless. As long as Cynbar got his cunt, they were relatively safe, they thought.<br><br>Such was the state of things in Quileia.<br><br>Crispin could not have cared less. He was from neither Cileria nor Quileia, but from further east, as his accent implied. His interests were his own, and King Cynbar accepted this. Crispin’s ambition was as reliable as the rising sun, and that was why he remained the tyrant’s closest advisor.<br><br>As Crispin entered the throne room, he saw a duke standing amid the rows and rows of nobles seated at their supper tables, sitting areas and benches where scantily clad women tended to their needs. The duke was giving an overdone speech as several servants scampered up to the dais and throne to present a long ornate case to Cynbar. The fact a young woman, a princess, was sucking him off publicly was being ignored. By now, the court and Quileian nobility had grown accustomed to debauchery. There were even those that revelled in it like Cynbar did.<br><br>“Get your back into it, bitch,” the royal voice snapped, and Jacia renewed her efforts with vigour. Her eyes were filled with fear, hatred, hunger and adulation. Her ordeal and unending abuse at Cynbar’s hands had given her the reputation of being half insane. (https://33.media.tumblr.com/667b54abdb5df0f1b1dd17c4161ac994/tumblr_mytthxZkMv1rq93veo1_400.gif)<br><br>The king, meanwhile, was the very picture of boredom. He was slumped low in the throne, legs apart to allow Jacia room to kneel and worship his manhood, one hand resting on her head, guiding her motions, another propping up his head. Cynbar –like his father, Valserion- was a handsome, virile young man, dark hair and olive skin to go with a crooked sneer. Yet today, he looked very much like someone who had overindulged for too many days and nights nonstop. Which was exactly the case… At least three girls had been used and spent by him, and a forth would never see the light of day again. Crispin had informed, and it seemed one of the three surviving little birds had been cast from the nest by her conservative Quileian father who did not want to harbour damaged goods.<br><br>Cynbar sighed heavily and stirred himself enough to sit up as a new gift was presented, Jacia meanwhile continued feasting on his undeniably impressive tool. Only Cynbar could pull of the mixture of boredom and satisfaction simultaneously. <br><br>The area immediately behind the throne was already littered with other gifts, undressed slaves and women, some in the process of fucking, which had been ignored or discarded with little more than a shrug. A group of nobles had gifted the tyrant a set of pleasure slaves, but he had waved them away stating that he had not trained them himself. In any case, Crispin noticed, the king had put them to work, for they now laid around screwing, sodomising and lewdly having sex. Their panting and moaning filled the room and added a feverish punch to the air. Cynbar rubbed his nose in his rumpled velvet doublet and took the sword case from the prostrating servants.<br><br>Then, midway, he froze and groaned. His legs started trembling and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Gah,” he exclaimed and wheezed, huffing. He then purred, quite femininely, and cupped Jacia’s cum covered chin in his soft hand. “Good girl,” he said as if to a dog or small child, both of which were no strangers to his bedroom. “Now, go clean yourself off, and don’t forget to swallow everything, little cumpup.” He smacked her on the ass when she got up demurely, her big eyes blazing in intoxicated adoration.<br><br>Cynbar flung the sword to the side. “Thank you, umm…”<br><br>“Duke Fellart, your Majesty, honoured to serve you.”<br><br>“Of course,” the king dismissed the flattering fool and his blue eyes alighted on Crispin. Without any haste or shame, Cynbar stashed his satisfied cock, growing limp slowly, back in his trousers. He got up, badly, for he almost fell, but regained his balance in time. “Come friends,” he chuckled, “Eat! Drink! Our feast, it continues and is the sweeter now!” He even roared with laughter, and the nobles joined in too quickly.<br><br>The celebration resumed, and the king made his way from the dais, gingerly stepping over the piles of writhing, fornicating flesh to reach his advisor. “Crispin, what news?” There was a slur in the king’s voice revealing his ample consumption of wine. The stench of it, of sex and sweat hung thickly in the air.<br><br>Crispin lowered his head and bowed, the fabric of his clothes shimmering in the light of the sconces. With his hair thinning and his facial features made entirely of sharp angles, he was nowhere near as handsome as the king. His was a strong face, as if hewn from rock. The finest compliment Crispin had ever received was from a young prostitute who had said he looked clever, that his green eyes could seize her, chew her up, and spit her out all with a single gaze. He had liked that so much, he had waited until morning to have her dragged off to the dungeons. “None particularly good, your Grace,” he replied.<br><br>Cynbar moved slowly and yawned, rubbing his bloodshot eyes and blinking rapidly. He stood up straight, adjusting his rumpled doublet and made for a side door. “Then let us be quick,” he muttered while striding off. They left the noise and fucking of the throne room behind.<br><br>The sitting room was used as a retreat for more private audiences. Cynbar had had the room refurbished with bright satins, mahogany and wrought metal. Vivid red paper covered the walls, a practice Crispin knew was the latest fashion. The king threw himself down on a padded settee, yawning once more and rubbing his forehead.<br><br>“The news?”<br><br>“Sebadorn has allied himself with the cult of Pharika. There has been a battle of some sort in Caermelor, which resulted in Phenax’s ousting from the city. Reports are inconsistent, but there have been sightings of a large snake in the sky and such.”<br><br>“Theatrics. Hogwash.”<br><br>“Even so, the priestess, Lucifia, seems to wield considerable power. They say she is the most beautiful woman alive, and the most desirable. I am sure you Grace knows that her religion values wild, animalistic fucking highly.”<br><br>“Of course, I was a staunch supporter in my teenage years.” Cynbar grinned a tired smile. “For obvious reasons. Maybe I fucked the bitch before she became high-priestess. She should have felt honoured, and now she allies herself with a usurper. Pathetic.” He spat on the rich carpet. “No matter,” the king continued, “once I have marshalled my full force and march north, we will bring her low together with that false king. Sebadorn will be used by some rampant bulls as their cow… And I will make this Lucifia beg for forgiveness, when I claim her ass and zealous cunt. From then on, I will be her god, not that serpent bitch.”<br><br>Crispin shrugged his shoulders, unsure it would go as the king said it would. Cynbar controlled a large contingent of Cilerian soldiers and was now working hard to add Quileian levies to his host in order to compete with Sebadorn’s troops. “As you say, your Majesty.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>22-07-2014, 21:09:10</strong>
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				Lucifia moaned with satiated lust and delight. The night after her draining ritual for Pharika was filled with debauched pleasures. She had never thought that a single man, albeit a king, could give her more pleasure than many of the orgies she had in the past. As he moved to pull out, she clamped her cunt tight around his cock, holding him inside her. Reaching back with her hand, she ran her fingers along his face as she turned. Her eyes sparkled brilliant green in the morning light as her tongue snaked out to meet his, the two twisting together in an open french kiss before their lips met. She moaned into his mouth, reveling in the cheers of the crowd below. It was very gratifying to hear them, but the pleasure was all in the kiss. Closing her eyes she lost herself in the moment, grinding her ass back against Sebadorn's body, keeping his cock fat and erect for as long as possible before she finally broke the kiss, sliding off him with a wet pop.<br><br>Grasping a small silver chalice, she turned to face him, kissing him once more before licking her way down his sweaty chest. His skin held the same shimmering gleam as hers, as if fine scales moved under the surface. Her tongue slide over his taunt muscles, and twisted through his pubic hair before she arrived at his dripping cock. Placing the chalice between her legs under her freshly fucked pussy, she slid her fingers in and out of the oozing pink flesh, smooth white globules of cum oozing from her cunt into the cum. Cupping his balls with one hand, her tongue twisted around the shaft before she popped the head into her mouth with a content sigh. In full view of the folk below she started sucking him. Sometimes she sucked fast, her head a blur. Other times she was slow and deliberate, her gleaming eyes locked on his in a lustful slutty gaze. Despite having made love to Sebadorn all night, and once again this morning, she was confident she could milk one more glorious cumshower from him, and she was right.<br><br>Under her expert ministrations, his balls began to contract, his cock stiffening to full strength once more before it exploded in gloriously obscene fashion over her face. She remained motionless, her mouth half open, her eyes fixed on his as she jerked his cock furiously. Long thick ropes of cum lashed her face and hair, dripping off her chin onto her breasts. She leaned forward to lick and slurp the last drops from his deflating cock. Rising to her feet, she stood close to him, the cum simmering in the morning sun. "I felt every drop... every thrust...every inch of you." she whispered sensually in his ear, "And I loved every moment." She stepped back, holding up the chalice filled to the brim with his cum milked from her cunt. Turning, she raised it in toast to the temple of Pharika before tipping her head back and downing the entire thing in a single go. The crowd cheered once more as she smacked her lips, striding into their chamber, running her hand along Sebadorn's chest as she passed.<br><br>In their bedroom, the large luxurious king's bed was neatly made, with tucked fitted silk sheets, and plump downy pillows stuffed with the most expensive feathers, hand picked from purpose reared birds. It was the perfect picture of luxury and decadence...which was why it wasn't used. The rest of the room was a wreck. The chairs smashed up, tables upturned, wardrobes toppled with clothes scattered across the marble floor. Even the fireplace wasn't spared,&nbsp; numbe of burned bottles and glasses scattered across the now cold ashes of the hearth. Indeed, Lucifia and Sebadorn's lovemaking was passionate and energetic to the point of near violence. After the city-wide rituals yesterday, they had retired to the room, intent on celebrating their alliance. It had began on the bear-skin rug next to the roaring fire. But soon it became kinky. Fucking vigorously on the tables, across chairs, even slamming up against the mirrors on the wardrobes. Nearly everything they touched was broken or toppled. Spatters of cum and cunt juices, both dried and new, still adorned most of the furniture and floor. It was a wonder how such a regal and statuesque lady like Lucifia could rut like a lust demon with reckless abandon.<br><br>Righting an upturned stool, Lucifia sat before the cracked mirror, skillfully re-weaving her braids. "The last of the army is soon to depart. We should prepare." she said, with a smile as Sebadorn came to stand with her. "The poison we must use is too volatile to create and take with us. We have enough acolytes coming with us to perform the rituals." Lacing the silk into her hair, she stooped to gather up her clothes. "It will not be as simple as walking up to them and tossing the potions... it will be a hard battle!" An hour later, Sebadorn and Lucifia were riding with the rear-guard cavalry.<br><br><hr><br><strong>Quileia, Altamora</strong><br><div class="floatright">(http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r228/Raven_Knives/Magic%20The%20Gathering/ElspethTheros_zps948df24b.png)</div>In the courtyard of the palace of Quileia a group of soldiers were running through combat drills. A ring of 20 or so soldiers darted about, armed with shields and shorts swords they circled and jabbed at a single woman in the centre of the melee. Every time one ventured in with his shield raised and his sword ready, he inevitably tumbled out, missing one of his items. Again and again the men regroup and charged, every time failing to break the guard of the twirling woman. The spear in her hand was fluid and fast, lancing out with pin-point precision to flick away a sword strike, or trip one of the men. One by one the men were disarmed, slinking away to sit on the sideline to watch. Only when the final man stumbled to the ground did the woman stop. Breathing lightly, she lifted the blindfold from her eyes, her blue eyes glaring at her soldiers. "How do you expect to defeat the armies of Sebadorn if you can not even work as a team!" she sighed. Untying the weights from her wrists and ankles she let the heavy lead restraints fall to the ground. "I am a proficient fighter, but I am not a god. Blindfolded, weighed down, and outnumbered... you should have easily taken me!" throwing her long spear to one of her squires, she strode to the doors, throwing them open and ascending the stairs.<br><br>Adrianna. Warrior Wife to Valens. Sword of Heliod. Light of the seat of Caemelor. All her titles were hard earned in many battles. From a young age she had been a priestess of Heliod, the white god of the Sun. However, her passion had always been combat, and she forsook the life of seclusion to learn warfare and military genius under the greatest generals King Valserion had at his disposal. Years later, she was one of the key generals that lead his victorious armies across the land.<br><br>It was then she had met Valens, eldest son of the King. It had been love at first sight and they had been wed a mere month later. Their union resulted in a beautiful baby girl, Valencia, the pride and joy of both parents. Both Valens and Adrianna swore to bring her up as a proper princess, as she was a direct heir to the throne. Together they had gathered the best teachers in the land to tutor her in every aspect of being an upright and kind princess. In the decade that followed, the young girl soaked it all in, showing great promise in every subject. In later years, Adrianna had planned to teach her the skills of the field: riding, archery, swordsmanship, the lot. However it was not to be. The old king Valserion began to lose his mind when Valencia was only 14 years old. The three sons, one sworn allies were beginning to fall out, civil war and strife emerging. Two years later, Sebadorn emerged from the carnage, Valens and his two brothers slain, along with the old King. With her guard of elite valkyrie warriors, Adrianna fled Caemelor with her daughter and headed to Quileia and to the last remaining son Cynbar.<br><br>Cynbar had received her well, and Adrianna had hoped to combine forces to march against Sebadorn and take back Caemelor. However, she was in for a brutal shock. His palace appeared orderly and clean, but within were the endless chambers of depraved pleasure and subjugation. Adrianna was horrified, and outraged by the open and blatant slavery and objectification of woman under Cynbar's rule. She feared this would rub off on her daughter Valencia, and hid her away in a tower to keep her from experiencing the near- daily gangbangs held in the throne room. Now Adrianna was stuck in this depraved kingdom of her brother-in-law, with the mission of reclaiming Caemelor resting on her shoulders. To make things worse, Cynbar claimed himself king, even though he was third in line behind Adrianna and Valencia. However, without Cynbar's support, Adrianna would never retake her home city.<br><br>Her gleaming armour shone brilliantly, standing out among the dusty and neglected halls of the palace. The guards saluted her as she passed, but she ignored them, intent on speaking with her brother-in-law, Cynbar. Throwing open the throne room doors, she strode through the orgy happening around her. Men and women paused and hid their faces before her virtue and stern glare. Many a woman gazed after her with envy and jealousy. In a city where women were second class citizens, Arianna was a beacon of what could be, and a reminder of what was before Cynbar gained the throne.<br><br>"Where is Cynbar?" she demanded outloud. She turned and pointed at a random noble, his cock deep in the ass of one of the poor serving girls. "You, where is my brother?" When he hesitated, she planted her foot on his chest, and thrust him to the ground. His head slammed painfully against the cold stone floor as her steel-tipped boot dug into his skin. "Where. Is. Cynbar." He winced and waved vaguely at one of the side doors. "He's in there... with Lord Crispin!" It was the king's private side room. One of many in the palace for whenever Cynbar wanted a particular woman, and wanted a place to enjoy her pleasures (willing or not) with toys to hand.<br><br>Adrianna burst into the room. There was no sign of Crispin, but Cymbar sat in one of the arm chairs one of his many harem whores kneeling between between his legs, her tongue frantically licking and slurping at his balls. Trying to hide her expression of utter disgust, she faced her brother-in-law. "Cynbar... the army is in shambles. The 20 best men you selected fell like chaff to me." When he gave a non-commital grunt, she growled dangerously. Stepping forward, she pressed her finger into his chest, his eyes snapping open as she hissed at him. "I was weighed down, outnumbered, and blindfolded! What does that say about the state of our readiness?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>25-07-2014, 16:43:31</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“Ah, my steel-clad heroine!” Weighed down, outnumbered and blindfolded. Yes. “And I bet you liked every moment of it, my sweet sister.” The cock-slave at his feet lapped merrily at his balls, and he tapped her on the head to let her know he was close to climaxing. “Hnngg, I’m ready,” Cynbar chuckled, his legs trembling. As such, the woman closed her plump lips around his cockhead and lowered her head on his shaft, taking him in all the way. As his cum jettisoned down the throat of the servile beauty in front of him, he locked eyes with Adrianna, wife to his late brother. He knew she liked to feel powerful, and beating twenty men –as she claimed- was just the thing for her.<br><br>However, something took root in his mind. He wanted to give her a similar treatment, weighed down, restrained and outnumbered. Perhaps the blindfold was not even necessary, for while it did rob her of one of her senses, he wanted to look into her burning eyes when she was used over and over, like a common seaport whore. Cynbar, Crispin knew, regarded all women as things, toys that crave degradation and the strength of a man’s hand. It was likely that Adrianna owed her freedom and position to her skills with the sword, for she was a great soldier and general.<br><br>It was just a matter of time though, before Cynbar’s depravity and jealousy would win out over his pragmatic reasons of keeping his sister-in-law as his chief commander.<br><br>“At least we have one warrior in among our ranks, though that will hardly be enough to impress Sebadorn.” Crispin interceded, trying to balm the rage of the female general. He had yet to meet the woman immune to flattery.<br><br>Cynbar, meanwhile, was scrutinising the face of his obedient little cumwhore, making sure she swallowed every last drop of his royal seed. Once she had gobbled everything up and cleaned off his groin with her expert tongue, she was dismissed, returned to the fuck-frenzy in the main hall.<br><br>“All we need is time, dear sister,” Cynbar finally said, his cock resting between his legs, glistening with saliva in the candlelight. “Patience has never been your strong suit, nor mine. But,” the king spread his arms, “we are having fun, no?”<br><br>“The recruits and levies from the country are still fresh, grant you. However, the soldiers that accompanied his Majesty to Quileia when he assumed the throne are among the finest fighters on offer. Maybe your training is insufficient, and makes them weak?” Crispin switched sides easily, like cloaks. Adrianna could be an ally, but she had proven to be too hot-headed to be politically useful. Hers was a mind with the black and white of a soldier, not the shades of grey of a politician.<br><br>Cynbar’s epilated eyebrow rose up faintly. “True. Perhaps we should consider a form of… encouragement, nay Crispin?” The king got up and dragged them back into the throne room where several piles of bodies were rutting and fucking in a variety of positions. One nobleman was occupied pouring expensive wine all over a drugged highborn daughter with a blazing ruby in her bellybutton, while other men and women tried to lick up the red liquid from her ample curves. Eventually, one of the women dived between her legs to sip wine from her cunt.<br><br>“Your wisdom surpasses that of mine, your Majesty,” Crispin replied humbly, inclining his head.<br><br>The king fluttered his fingers and eyes. “Oh stop it. Please, recommend what our brave general needs for an incentive.”<br><br>The advisor locked his arms before his chest. His arms were as broad as tree stumps, and his forearms were riddled with enigmatic tattoos that accentuated his corded muscles. “Mayhaps we can level the playing field somewhat and ensure the general celebrates your nameday?” Crispin gestured to some men-at-arms, whom took Adrianna’s weapons from her. Half of the people losing themselves in the bacchanalia turned to see, the others continued their drinking, kinking and raping in blissful oblivion. They were all slaves to their senses, slaves to pleasure always striving to push their boundaries. Crispin found it extremely interesting.<br><br>“Oh yes,” Cynbar said, giggling femininely after hearing Crispin whisper in his ear. “That is indeed a nice suggestion. You, you and you!” the king indicated some sober members of his royal guard. “Restrai-… I mean, support the general. She is thirsty and needs to toast to my health!” Meanwhile a servant came rushing with a full sack of wine.<br><br>“Drink it. All of it.” Cynbar’s eyes had seemed to have caught fire at the prospect of forcing his sister-in-law’s hand to something. The king was very keen on enforcing his authority. “Toast to my health and splendour. You must be thirsty.”<br><br>Crispin watched Adrianna fume and rage, on the cusp of refusing and doing something foolish. However, if she struck the king, her life would be forfeit and that meant she would leave her daughter all alone in this cruel, cruel world. Additionally, said daughter was somewhere else in the palace, somewhere in the clutches of Cynbar’s lackeys. She would be unharmed, tending to lessons or sowing, but provided invaluable leverage over the warrior-woman. Eventually, she complied and finished the wine sack. Another quickly followed.<br><br>Adrianna was kept standing to attention, while several guardsmen worked hard at removing her intricate set of armour. There were many bands and patched pieces that hampered a smooth removal of the metal encasing the proud female. In the end though, Adrianna stood naked, her body scarred in some places but undeniably a work of art: honed in battle and training. She was muscular, but still possessed the alluring, attractive curves a woman ought to have. Cynbar handed her another wine sack, as she started swaying on her feet a little.<br><br>“What is the matter, sister?” He teased, caressing her neck and shoulders. Many of the guests were openly watching her, laughing at her and ridiculing her. “Can you not hold your liquid? And here I was thinking that soldiers could outdrink sailors!” More people laughed as Cynbar pinched a nipple playfully. “Are you cold, Adria?”<br><br>A guardsman pushed his leg into her knees, making her go down on them. They placed her legs underneat her, and her wrists were put on her meaty, muscular thighs. "Don't you dare fucking move," Cynbar hissed, forgetting his hypocritical friendliness for a moment.<br><br>The advisor once again whispered into the king’s ear who let out a maddening laughter. “Who bets she will throw up before she pisses herself?!” The king asked the hall with great mirth. Hands and shouts filled the air of the soiled room, obscuring the cries of passion and groaning.<br><br>Crispin watched unfazed. Hopefully the bitch would learn her place now and adopt some humility in her demeanour. Nevertheless, he was curious who would win the bet. He himself had his money on her losing control of her stomach and bladder both. After all, what is life without a little risk?<br><br><div align="center">(http://31.media.tumblr.com/9ca2d5cc7c5cbadd5e9b45578c587097/tumblr_mltcd5JkFb1rs7mayo1_500.jpg)</div><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>25-07-2014, 21:12:19</strong>
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				Adrianna spluttered and coughed as the third wine sack was poured down her throat. Her vision was beginning to swim, the pleasant heady feeling of being drunk creeping into her body. She had not had this sensation for many years. As a pragmatic general she had abstained from the frilly dinners and meet-and-greets common among high ranking officials. The most she had ever drunk in one sitting was there small cups of watered wine, and that was on her wedding night. Now as the next sack was forced to her lips, she hardly realized she had been forced to her knees. Still her fury burned with intensity that drowned out all inebriation.<br><br>"You...you dare do this to me?" she hissed between forced gulps. "Your army is pathetic! Your men just boys with toy swords!" she spluttered and coughed as her throat was held roughly. Red wine spilling down her front as the spout was jammed in her mouth. For a moment she glugged down the wine, then spat out a mouthful splashing Cynbar's feet. "The Usurper is coming, and you know you will need your men at their best. Why... torture me like this? You need me!" Her eyes gleamed with fiery defiance. "Without me you are finished. You'll have to flee the land and be hunted!"<br><br>Her tirade was cut short as a hard knee dug into her back, the strap of one of the sacks tugged across her throat, cutting off her breath. She struggled gamely, wrenching this way and that until her vision began to darken at the edges. Her tongue lolled from her mouth as she fade in and out of consciousness. The torturer (possibly Cynbar or Crispin), was skillful, releasing her just before she passed out, tugging her back down when she barely regained her senses. Unable to control herself, her thighs twitched and tremble, her bladder releasing itself as golden yellow urine spurted from Adrianna's crotch over the carpeted floor. All around her the courtesans and whores laughed alongside their king at her, their voices ringing in her ears at the humiliation.<br><br>The strap around her neck suddenly snapped with the pressure and Adrianna fell forward onto the floor. Coughing and taking great gasps for breath, she felt her stomach turn, and she knew what was coming. She also knew she couldn't stop it as she retched and heaved, the stench of vomit filling the air as she threw up onto the throne room floor. Foul red wine stained puke erupted from her throat, drooling from her lips and splashing her thighs. The roomful of sycophants gave theatrical groans and moans of disgust, followed by derisive laughter.<br><br>As the last dregs dripped to the floor, Adrianna's face was suddenly slammed into the pool of vomit. Cynbar's foot held her head firmly in her vile slime. She could see his sneering face from the corner of her eye. Damn that tyrant...he wasn't even the real king. SHE was the queen! Were it not for the endless simpering loyalists, she would have challenged him to single combat. Aye, and beaten him to a pulp before beheading him with his own sword. But for her daughter, she could not risk it. Not yet. Without him, she was a homeless renegade. Thus she had to put up with these sick jokes and obscene displays of his power.<br><br>********<br><br>Several hundred miles west, Lucifia lounged in her mobile pavilion. It was a near full sized room, complete with bed, table, and ritual pit. She lay on her side in the bed as she watched Adrianna's debauched humiliation in the smoke of the incense burner. Having a good number of miles to go, Lucifia had decided to scope out the last son of the old king. While her distance vision was not as refined as that of a Phenax mystic, her smoke served her well enough to enjoy the scene unfolding before her. She shook her head with a smile. Cynbar understood the role of dominator, but nothing of the role of 'master'. The dominator did just that: dominate. With punishment, force, denial, and threat, the dominator held his position easily over those he controlled. Anyone with enough rage and ego could dominate, but few could be a 'master'.<br><br>Or Mistress...Lucifia thought with a smile. Yes, a mistress or master would and could do everything the Dominator could, but there would always be that touch of affection or consideration. That tiny reward at the end of the punishments that kept the slave coming back for more. A mistress could make the simplest gesture seem like a godsend. A light stroke over the sensitive sex of a slave might feel like a blessing. Allowing the slave to taste the mistresses' fingers after a finger-fucking like the nectar of the gods. A true mistress only needed chains and whips for dungeon play, at all other times, the relationship itself was the strongest bond. Lucifia smiled at Cynbar's cruel force feeding. Cynbar might be able to break Adrianna... but without the finesse of a master, Adrianna could easily be turned to another owner...like Lucifia. Satisfied, she snuffed the incense and leaned from the window to watch the passing scenery<br><br>The convoy of Sebadorn's army passed by a number of villages. All of them were degraded and derelict with age and disrepair. As if on que, Alya materialized alongside the wagon. She looked resplendent in her glowing gold and silver painted leather armour, the armour of a viper. Lucifia's eyes flicked to the bed, and Alya eagerly flipped up into the pavilion, turning a somersault before landing deftly on her feet next to Lucifia's bed. Kneeling, Alya kissed her mistress's flat tummy before crawling in next to her. The two women shared a lustful kiss, their hands sliding over each other's body and under the clothing to find erect nipples and moist pussies. Rolling about, Lucifia finally settled on her back, her legs wrapped around Alya's neck as the young Acolyte licked and slurped at her cunt. "Mmmm...Tell me of the villages, Alya."<br><br>Between hungry laps, Alya described the dilapidated towns. Once healthy and bustling with industry and activity, Phenax had bled the poor villages dry with taxes and levies. Villagers were scared to go out after dark without business, as the assassins of the Phenax Cult were everywhere. When the Pharika rain swept the capital, it also rushed through the outlying villages like a monsoon. Before the eyes of the cowering villagers, the assassins had been stuck down, dissolving in the vengeful deluge. Now with no deadly enforcers to patrol their streets, the men and women of the towns were slowly emerging, watching the new king and his new mystic priestess march to war. They were still quite wary... one god's wrath was as bad as the next, and the townsfolk weren't keen to make targets of themselves.<br><br>Lucifia lifted her head, spotting the timid faces in the windows and doorways. She moaned pleasurably as Alya's tongue dug deep in her snatch. "Have the masons go out to the villages and remove the debris from the old temples. Build new temples to Pharika. Not extravagant costly ones, but ones that suit the village. Then have the priestesses take up residence there. One priestess and three acolytes for each village. Ensure that all measures are taken to 'please' the local population. Their support will ensure a steady supply line for our campaign."<br><br>Alya nodded and rose from the bed, she was about to turn to go, when she felt Lucifia's finger slide into her cunt. Gasping, she spread her legs wider, bending over as Lucifia thrust a small dried leaf deep into her sex. "This is your reward Alya, a glimpse into what a priestess enjoys..." Alya's world suddenly burst with pleasure, the potent leaf soaking up her cunt juice and releasing its powerful effect into her body. She collapsed to her knees, cumming desperately. Her hands clawing at her cunt and tits as her eyes rolled back into her head. Lucifia's grin was as wide as a snake's as she slithered onto the floor, dipping her tongue into Alya's puckered asshole, sending fresh spasms through the young acolyte's body.<br><br>Only an hour later did Alya regain her senses, lying on the soft grass next to the passing convoy. Picking herself up, she could smell the strong leaf still embedded in her pussy. Striding resolutely into the nearby village, she raised her hand in greeting, remembering Lucifia's instructions.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>29-07-2014, 13:01:21</strong>
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				Cynbar’s slapped Adrianna across the face with the back of his ringed hand. The force of the impact silenced her neatly, and Crispin stepped forward to aid in subjugating the proud and unruly warrior. “Shut your whore-mouth, cunt,” the king spat at her venomously, treating her exposed tits to a volley of ferocious slaps. “You ought to get it through your numb skull. I am king. I rule. With what right do you think to tell me what to do, what I need? You know nothing, dumb woman.” The king twisted one of Adrianna’s nipples viciously, like a petty child would. “Enough of it,” he yelled and spat in the woman’s face. The spittle was slightly pink due to the wine he had been drinking. “Time for you to learn your rightful place. Heel!”<br><br>Meanwhile, Crispin had stepped behind the disgraced general and moved his thick as tree stump arms to wrap a leather strap around Adrianna’s throat. He had tugged off a strap of the wine-sacks and now used it to constrict the woman’s breathing in front of the entire court. Adrianna coughed and struggled against the obstruction, but Crispin kept her down with his knee pressing hard into her back, also granting him additional leverage to choke the bitch. Using his considerable strength, he forced her further down, closer to Cynbar’s feet.<br><br>Up to now, Adrianna had remained in control of her bladder and stomach, and the advisor took matters into his own hands. Cynbar giggled as he watched Crispin exert more pressure, the leather strap digging deep into the skin of the king’s sister-in-law. It snapped.<br><br>A red circle appeared where the leather had cut into Adrianna’s throat, like a torturing necklace.<br><br>She fell to the floor, coughing and wheezing, then let go. She vomited up the wine poured into her unwilling mouth, soiling the rich carpets in front of the throne. Cynbar jumped back just in time to avoid the sudden puke, and kicked her in the ribs for almost hitting him with her retch. Then she pissed herself. "Such a sow!"<br><br>Crispin grinned, satisfied that the once powerful female general had sullied herself in this humiliating manner. It would certainly lend her new… perspectives on her situation. He watched intently as the golden liquid passed between Adrianna’s meaty, muscular thighs and soaked the carpets. Cynbar spat at her, a thick glob of saliva splatting on her back. He was quickly joined by sycopanthic guardsmen and soon and entire line of courtiers, in various stages of undress and inebriation, followed, cursing out Adrianna as if she were something that belonged in the gutter. “You’re sewage,” Cynbar shouted over the throng of brown-nosers and bootlickers. Adrianna was pushed into her own pool of filth forcefully.<br><br>Cynbar emptied a cup of wine over her golden locks, dying it pink. “Oh I’m sorry,” he fawned, “did I stain your pretty hair? Let me make it up to you.” The king positioned himself in front of her, his fancy shoes just outside of the puddle of piss and barf. He undid his trousers and whipped out his flaccid cock, then started to unceremoniously urinate on top of her head. When he was done, he nodded to Crispin. “Get this sack of lard out of my face.”<br><br>The smell of piss and vomit mixed with the hot scent of sex and luxury.<br><br><div align="center">(http://kinkydelight.com/kinky/in-pillory.jpg)</div><br>Adrianna was ushered out of the room, Crispin leading the dozen guardsmen. They had walked her through the throne room in chains, disgraced, her hair and body stained with bile and urine. Eventually they placed her in an empty room. Empty but for the pillory in the centre of it.<br><br>“Quite a fall from grace,” Crispin said matter-of-factly. While he did relish to see Adrianna humiliated and degraded like this, it was first and foremost a means to an end. He threw a bucket of cold water over her to wash of the filth and bring her to, for she had become quiet after the mortification she had suffered at Cynbar’s savage hands. Already a nasty black and blue spot was starting to show on her otherwise pristine skin where the king had kicked her, and there were handprints on her tits and ass, not to mention the red mark around her throat he had caused himself. Crispin knew her dignity would not survive something like that, no matter her pride. “But don’t you worry your dumb head, your little slut will be safe… I will make sure of that.” He let the unspoken threat of his words linger in the room for some time before leaving, purposefully striding directly to Valencia’s bedroom.<br><br>The twenty men that had been humbled by Adrianna’s considerable combat prowess were already lining up in the bleak and badly lit corridor. “Sergeant,” Crispin addressed the first of the soldiers. He was a huge man, taller than the advisor and quite muscled. One half of his face was a scorched ruined mess as a result of some terrible burning. “I trust you know what to do with this filth?”<br><br>The massive brute nodded his disfigured head. “Don’t ya worry,” he said, only moving the good side of his face. “I’ll loosen her up nicely for the rest of the guys.” The sergeant then shouldered his way into the room. "All three of her holes!" He called after.<br><br>Not long after, as Crispin ascended the stairs, he could hear a shout of horror and pain. Then her screams were cut short, muffled by what he thought was cock. Undoubtedly, the big sergeant was splitting Adrianna’s righteous cunt in two with an enormous pole. Yes, Crispin thought, defile that pompous bitch.<br><br>Half an hour, and a report to Cynbar later, he found himself at the door of Valencia’s personal quarters. Some of his own men stood guard, and they let him pass without saying anything. Crispin knocked on the door. “Princess?”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>30-07-2014, 02:27:05</strong>
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				Adrianna looked up to see the 20 men she had beaten in combat blindfolded... the humiliation on their faces at the time obvious, but now their faces were flushed with lustful vengeance. A small spark of her rebellious self came back as the Sergeant stepped forward. "Don't you dare...I...I will KILL you! I swear! Every one of you!" she screamed out, wincing as the sergeant slammed his fist into the side of her body. He wasted no words on her as he moved behind her. Spitting into his hand he greased up his cock for a moment, before cruelly plowing it into her unprepared asshole.<br><br>The shriek of pain and surprised shook the room as he started pounding and impaling the once high commander. Faster and faster into her virgin anus, with little care for her wellbeing. Her screams were soon cut short as another cock forced its way into her throat. Adrianna coughed and spluttered for breath, still trying to scream out death threats. As more men piled into the room, they gained boldness, slapping and spitting on her pulling her hair and rubbing their cocks over her flawless body. When a third cock rammed home into her pussy, she nearly passed out. Just barely managing to keep awake. She struggled against the restraints, trying her best to fight the raping cocks, but her movements only served to massage them. One by one they started cumming.<br><br>First it was the sergeant, brutally raping her ass, who spilt his seed deep in her bowels. He slapped her butt cheeks viciously, leaving bruises down her sides. The gush of his cum splashing Adrianna's bowels and she froze. For a moment her brain went blank... just... empty...only the sensation of thick hard cocks violating her body. Just for a brief moment, she let her guard down...and she moaned...such a nasty humiliating thing... being fuck-raped by common soldiers...completely naked for all to see. The thought was...so exciting. Her eyes rolled back into her head slowly, as her orgasm rose unbidden in her body. <br><br>As the sergeant withdrew, she began to cum uncontrollably. Her body shaking and spasming as the men laughed and jeered at her. She collapsed limply, as if his cock was the only thing holding her hp, but they weren't done with her. Not by a long shot. Rough hands held her up as a new man stabbed into her clenching ass, sending waves of shameful pleasure through her body. with every cumshot she had, a new orgasm ripped through her, keeping her in a semi-conscious state of constant pleasure. By the time the last three men were crushing her with cock, her threats had turned to moans and grunts, her struggles had become compliant and submissive. A single gangrape of 20 men had broken her. She might recover and rebell again... but the damage was done... Adrianna was now a rapeslut.<br><br>**********<br><br>Valencia's room was a large circular room at the top of one of the towers of the palace. Situated near the back of the palace surrounded on one side by high cliffs, and on the other side by crenelated fortifications, it was the most secure place, but also the hardest to escape from. The heavy door slowly unlocked itself at Crispin's approach. By magic, the seals and wards faded, bolts drew back, and the slight clink of gears sounded as gateway into Valencia's room slowly creaked open.<br><br>Inside was a princess's paradise. The circular room was painted pure white from top to bottom, with delicate crystal candle glasses, and lush golden carpeting. The four-poster bed had a sheer gauze canopy over it, studded with twinkling diamonds and laced with silver to simulate the night sky. The silk sheets and plump velvet pillows on the bed were of the finest quality, ordered in from exotic makers, worth several years wages of even a moderately wealthy nobleman. Across from this, in neat rows were several open closets full of the most regal and dazzling outfits and uniforms. Each one specifically tailored to Valencia, with the subtlest difference in color and design.<br><br>Along side this was a number of armour and weapons stands where an array of different armours stood on display. Leather armour for hunting, guilded plate armour for heavy combat, light plate for horse riding, even a flowing robe for mages. A long line of weapons hung on the nearby walls. Bows, wands, staffs, gilded arrows swords, axes...even the odd mace or scythe. Yes, this room was perfect for Adrianna's image of her daughter's future as queen of th land: a powerful queen and warrioress to rival even the most savage barbarian berserker.<br><br>All of this was ignored however, as Crispin entered the room. Valencia looked towards the door from where she stood at the window, her beautiful young face scrunched up with concern. Despite being high up and tucked away at the back of the castle, sound traveled easily in the stone palace. No doubt Val hear the sounds of torture, the shouts of pain, and the moans of pleasure. Lifting her blue-white dress, she hurried across the large room to Crispin. "What's happening? Where is mother?" she asked, clearly concerned.<br><br>Since coming to the coup, Valencia had been spirited away by Adrianna to Cynbar. She had spent the last few weeks couped up in this room. The servants were nice enough, but they never allowed her out of the tower, and she began to get worried, both for her own sake, and for her mother's sake. Occasionally Crispin would visit, but she never saw Cynbar or her mother. Crispin would say they were plotting to retake Caermelor, and she accepted this. But she wasn't dumb. On the contrary she was quite bright and observant. Where were the massive armies? Where were the messengers galloping about with directives and orders for the different companies. The palace had remained stagnant, no sign of preparation for war. Crispin was her only connection to the outside world. He treated her with kind indifference so far. None of the other members of staff would dare speak with her, either excusing themselves, or simply ignoring her. Yet Crispin spent time with her, listened to her, and gave her more hope for the next day, if any at all.<br><br>"Why isn't Cynbar preparing for war, Crispin?" she asked, as she reached out to touch his arm. Her bright blue eyes sparked in the candlelight as she lead him to one of the chairs, seating him before sitting herself down across from him. "Surely he knows that usurper won't rest until I'm dead or in his dungeon!" she pressed...
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>31-07-2014, 10:57:12</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K7aurFkRvdk/ULyICcFIWeI/AAAAAAAABeg/wKrokV18xP0/s1600/Ogre_Kingdoms_art_1.jpg)</div><br>The king relived their covert trek across the valley, sneaking up on the camp of the ogres and their human auxiliaries that plagued the Northern Marches. The enemy had made their lair in a small cave, a few provisory dwellings of pinewood and canvas erected in the clearing in front of it. Crude makeshift tents dotted the open space. Sebadorn had been the one to lead the manoeuvre, stealthily coming up behind a sentry that watched out across the vale where the king’s main host had been camped.<br><br>Sebadorn saw his actions flash before his eyes again. The long march and swift campaign north from Caermelor seemingly culminating in this raid. It was one of many, and hardly the last, but it mattered. Since ogres were guided solely by their stomachs, they spread devastation and destruction wherever they go. Everywhere they rode past, they saw the evidence of the ogre incursion – burnt cottages and villages, slain villagers, distraught refugees…<br><br>In the past, the ogres had been fractured, consisting of several bloodthirsty tribes in the mountains. However, recently they had united for a reason as of yet unknown to the Cilerian king. <br><br>He had slipped up close mere moments ago, holding his breath in anticipation. Then, he had reached out with his left hand, no gauntlet this time lest it reflect the light, and had worked his fingers in the cold, misty air, had waited for the moment. Sebadorn had reached out with his right hand, his meaty fist clenched around the horn grip of his knife. He had felt his lips curling back from his gritted teeth, in a murderous sneer. Then had been the time, and when the time came you did not hesitate. When the time comes you strike without a single backward glance. Knife-work is red work.<br><br>Agilely the king reached round, his callous palm clamping right over the sentry's mouth, preventing him to scream out. The blade had moved, expertly, cutting the man's throat quick and hard. Deep enough to feel the neckbone scrape against the metal. The scum had jerked and struggled for a moment, but King Sebadorn had held him tight like a lover's embrace until his body went limp. The sentry made no more than a soft gurgle, and breathed his last. He had felt blood on his hands, hot and sticky. The blood was still there, but dried and caked up, coming loose when he worked his hand. After the slaying of the human watchman, he and his personal guard had crept ever closer, feeling the heat of their fires, hearing the grunts and primitive speech of the ogres and the jeering of their human subjects.<br><br>Before Sebadorn’s eyes unfolded a scene worthy of horror. In-between the dwellings and along the rocky mountainside leading up to the cave, stood holding pens. Some were filled with a large breed of dogs, but the vast majority of the wooden constructions were filled with wide-eyed men and women: prisoners of war, soon-to-be-slaves.<br><br>Great cauldrons rested atop fire-pits, their contents a sticky bubbling brew. An ogre-chef, a baker’s hat put in an act of travesty on his head, threw in three beaten and broken males. His assistant handled a huge ladle, which he employed to stir the human stew.<br><br>As the king drew his lips back in a murderous sneer, he let his eyes wander further to discover what a terrible process those men went through before being turned into ogre-supper.<br><br>There were only three things the creatures cared about and they all had to do with satisfaction. Eating, fucking and fighting were what could be considered the ogre’s pantheon.<br><br>The ogres were massive and disgusting. He had seen them before, and in spite of their change of heart, they had not changed physically. An ogre was a monstrous humanoid creature, with a large, powerful and corpulent body, and a snarling, brutish and seemingly-neckless head. An average adult male Ogre stands over ten feet tall, and is almost half as wide at the gut. These specimens were no exceptions, their obscene tattoos spreading over their skin, fat encasing their impressive muscles.<br><br>Their leader, whom they referred to as the feastmaster, was one of the biggest example of his race; a massive gut hanging above an ornate leather belt, metal plate with a painted maw on it protecting his fat belly. Sebadorn knew the terrifying amount of strength hiding under the layers of fat giving it the feastmaster the trademark obese appearance.<br><br>However, the repugnance of the giant feastmaster was not what affronted Sebadorn so, it was the vanquished human soldier in his hand. The man was bleeding, not just from cuts, and had passed out. Apparently the ogre-captain relished in breaking males, for he was sucking the unconscious soldier’s cock with relish. (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-07mRNThSu0s/Uc0b5BFgkQI/AAAAAAAAAeY/TkfjaLJ2hws/s1507/ogree.jpg)<br><br>Another ogre had retrieved a woman from the holding pens and laid her down on the ground. He was mercilessly pounding her ass, ripping her open with his humongous cock. His friend joined him by impaling a women from behind, spreading her legs forcefully apart. The woman was crying, wailing for pity, but the creature naturally did not care, all that mattered to him was ploughing her tight, virgin asshole. However, not all seemed such unwilling partners of the crude beasts. (http://3dmonstersexclub.com/3d-sex-pics/3d-ugly-monster-sex-with-giant-dick.jpg)<br><br>Other human men and women were spread out along the campfires, being used by the ogres and human auxiliaries to satisfy their craving for sex. Sebadorn saw an ogre and female entwined, the beast plunging in and out of her. They were lying on the floor and the unholy beast was trying to smash her pussy up, which –judging from the bland expression on the slave’s face- met with her disgusting approval. She had been turned into a fuckslut for the ogre horde, her mind broken, her thoughts reduced to cumming and craving ogre-dick. She spoke something in low grunts, what the king suspected to be the language of the invaders, and then lapped at its filthy face. (http://hq3dmonsterporn.com/3d-monster-pics/amazing-3d-troll-porn-with-a-hot-elf-babe.jpg)<br><br>She was not alone in her submission.<br><br>A red-head, the tiara in her hair denoting her noble birth, was being taken from behind by another of the fat monsters. Meanwhile, the feastmaster moved to her front, presenting his gigantic cock to her that had just previously torn a man apart. The woman was used by the two hulking frames like a spitroast, and it filled King Sebadorn with hatred for the entire ogre-race to see a woman of this standing broken down to be a cock-sleeve to monsters. It did not keep her from rolling her eyes back and enjoying the violent semi-rape. The cockslut’s luscious, thick thighs jiggled whenever the fat ogre’s hips connected with her, coaxing wet sounds and squelches from her hungry cunt. When the feastmaster retracted his twitching tree-stump of a penis and squirted his monster-seed all over her sexy body, the rapewhore just let her tongue loll out of her mouth to catch as much of it as possible. (http://freemonsterporn.org/images/free_monster_porn_14.jpg)<br><br>“This ends,” the king had roared and signalled for the assault.<br><br>They had charged from the woods then, surprising the fiends, swords and axes swinging, chopping down in choler and royal vengeance. However, the initial shock didn't last and a proper fight broke out. It was then that Sebadorn realised that his enemies were far more numerous than he had expected, for another dozen or so came pouring from their cave, brandishing cruel weapons such as hooks and modified farming tools. A sword was crafted for warfare, but at least it left clean wounds. Nothing could rip a man like a scythe, puncture like a reek or bludgeon like a simple club.<br><br>And they had the ogres to contend with.<br><br>Several men went down on Sebadorn’s side, but more succeeded in their efforts. The ogres were wounded, and when he sounded his silver-banded horn, the cavalry charged forward with their mighty lances. The feastmaster himself went down, pierced by two spears, his belly-plate loose and his guts spilling out.<br><br>“Put them on display,” the king said, as his soldiers struck hooks into the morbidly obese creatures and dragged them away to nail them along the border. “Alya,” the king called to the agent of his beloved high-priestess. “Send word of our victory to the capital, and your mistress.”<br><br>* * * * * *<br><br>She put her mouth at height with his glistening cock-head, her tongue slowly slithering from behind her plump, burgundy lips. He could feel her hot breath against his glans, and then her careful tapping with her pink but skilled tongue. The promise of being enveloped by her warm, obedient and expert mouth was exuberating. (http://38.media.tumblr.com/0083d5298c3c9827de915b4a30afd97c/tumblr_n67wgsRsvE1sluuvdo1_400.gif)<br><br>“Crispin?”<br><br>“Your mother had a disagreement with the king, but that is all being sorted out as we speak, dear,” the sorcerer said, dismissing the fantasy that had momentarily consumed his keen mind. Valencia was beautiful, in spite of her young age, and important to him for… various reasons. During his time at Cynbar’s court, Crispin had made it his business to mind the princess, and subtly manipulate her. Spending time with her when nobody else would, made Valencia think she was being sequestered, kept behind locked doors and that he was her ally, her saviour. In fact, he was her gaoler. “I will never let him throw you in his dungeon!” <em>No… I have a spot for you in mine already. </em><br><br>“You are far too valuable to kill, my sweet, sweet Val!” Crispin said in feigned horror. She truly was though, not just for her political value as descendant of King Valserion, whose position was currently held by Sebadorn. “Cynbar is biding his time, for the usurper needs to contend with the ogres to his north and the savages in the west that continuously encroach on his lands.”<br><br>Crispin took the seat she offered and placed a large hand on Valencia’s knee. “He is waiting for him to make a mistake, little dove. Your mother counselled against it, so did I for that matter. You know Cynbar though, once his mind is made up…” the sorcerer shrugged his shoulders. “It pains me that your mother chose to take the blame for this, but I made a promise to her to watch out for you…”<br><br>Crispin’s voice was soothing and calm. “Do you trust me enough for that, Val?” Expert manipulator that he was, he infused his tone and face with just the right amount of pleading to be persuasive. “I care about your safety.”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>31-07-2014, 20:35:34</strong>
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				Of all the mythical creatures, ogres were some of the most disliked by Pharika and her faithful. They were savage brutes who loved fucking, but they had no appreciation for the female form. They were lumbering slobs who would fuck anything with a hole deep enough. The skill of seduction, the subtle nuances of sensual pleasure were all beyond the simple minds of the ogres. If an acolyte tried to collect pleasure essence from a whole tribe of ogres, she would end up with enough offerings to match a beggar's masturbation. They were also too stupid to be taught lustcraft. Foreplay, teamwork in gangbangs, and proper pussy eating were all lost on the simpleton giants.<br><br>Alya and the acolytes arrived on the scene after Sebadorn declared his victory. Immediately, most of the acolytes moved to the prisoners, freeing the captive ones, and secretly assessing the women for Pharikan potential. There wasn't really much for the taking. The royal redhead was perhaps the only salvageable woman worth training for Pharika, and even then only as a sex slave. Her newfound appetite for enormous penetrations would be useful for pleasing Pharika's snakes, and her lustful moans would be music in Pharika's temple.<br><br>Alya stepped over the unconscious body of the soldier the feastmaster had sucked off. The ogre's teeth had badly damaged the man's cockshaft, tearing much of the flesh around his thighs. She silently wondered if he'd manage a proper erection ever again. Many of the ogre had been hooked and dragged off, beginning with the feast master. Alya gazed over the bodies, slightly concerned. She saw Sebadorn, and strode towards him, bowing a curtsey as he looked up at her.<br><br>"Your Majesty! I see you've taken the advantage...but, what about the poison my Mistress spoke of?" she asked anxiously. "The Priestess wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to make these if she thought them unnecessary." she said, holding out a handful of the little glass poison bombs. His blank facial expression told Alya he had completely forgotten about the poison in his battlefury. Clapping a hand to her forhead, she signaled the Vipers to move after the blood trail along the border. "With respect your highness, those ogres aren't dead! They entered traumatic slumber. They'll wake up soon an tear your men apart!"<br><br>Alya dashed off along the bloodsoaked trail, possibly with Sebadorn behind her, but she didn't have time to look back. Ahead she could see the small figures of human soldiers propping up a ogre against a pine tree. The ogre did indeed look dead, a huge gash in his stomach exposed his enormous fat and gut. One of them held the meaty wrist up against the bark as the other lifted a sledge hammer up against the iron spike. As he swung, the ogre suddenly came awake with a pained roar. The soldier trying to hold it's wrist went flying into the forest as the ogre swung him away effortlessly. The other soldier screamed in terror as the lumbering brute caught his swinging blow with his hand, throwing it back in the soldier's face. The unfortunate man's helmet exploded in a spray of bone and brains as the heavy hammer crushed straight though his head.<br><br>Alya hefted one of the glass bombs, the green viscous poison swirling within. Darting between the trees at the edge of the border, she threw herself into a slide, taking her between the ogre's legs. Reaching up she skillfully slotted the small orb into the gaping cut in the it's abdomen, before giving the heavy gut a hefty kick, pushing herself away. There was a small tinkle as the fragile potion shattered. The ogre roared in anger and pain as it stumped forward, towering over Alya, the iron spike in it's hand. As it raised its fist over its head, it groaned, looking down in time to see its entire stomach give way like a deflated balloon. Foul sloppy goo splattered to the ground as the poison rapidly ate through the ogres guts... dissolving muscle, fat, and skin in a rapidly growing toxic masmia. Alya stepped back as the ogre fell forward, face planting in its own mess, the bubbling froth slowly seeping away to reveal the bleached skeleton of the mythic creature. Alya breathed a sigh of relief, but there wasn't time to rest. A series of roars and screams in the distance announced the awakening of the remaining ogres.<br><br>* * * * * *<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/95/640x888_16566_Helene_of_Troy_2d_fantasy_illustration_girl_woman_horse_princess_picture_image_digital_art.jpg)</div><br>Coming up to the age of 16 now, Valencia was every man's fantasy of a princess. She was petite, with emerald green eyes and a cute little smile. Slim with near ghost-blonde hair adorning her head, her exercises with her mother had kept her athletic and trim. She was shy and polite in company, but could be stubborn and insistent when lit with a flame of determination. Her innocent expression endeared her to all. Some adored her for the purity of her being. Others wanted nothing more than to taint that purity. So far, no one had every gotten the chance, as she had been kept close by her mother's side. No suitor dared approach her when Adrianna stood vigilant over her underaged protege. Now out of her home country, and her mother often not present, she had noticed more and more desiring glance thrown her way. At least Crispin kept the others at bay. His powerful presence and strength much like her mother's: protective and comforting.<br><br>Val sighed with relief, at least Crispin cared for her well being. When she was younger her father told her that kings work in mysterious ways. Sometimes they were straightforward, other times they did what you least expected. And yet still other times, they didn't act when you thought they would. Cynbar was just such a king. He had been welcoming when she first met him when they arrived, but since then she had been couped up in her tower, with only her weapons and embroidery to keep her company.<br><br>"I wish mother wouldn't get in so many arguments." she said as she toyed with the sleeve of Crispin's shirt. "She's a very strong woman, and sometimes gets other people upset if she's right all the time."Val blushed as Crispin placed a hand on her knee, but didn't push him away. "'Too valuble to kill?'...I wish people would treating me like an imperial seal or proof of legitimacy!" she said with a huff..."I'm a person too!" She wasn't blind to the fact she was a key element in so many different plans that swirled around her. For one reason or another, whoever seemed to have her was rightfully king. She was like a trophy, and she hated it. "I'm glad you care about me though, Crispin." she said with a small smile, "I trust you very much. You're the only one who bothers visiting me in this silly tower. Oh! Come look at this!"<br><br>She grabbed his hand and lead him to one side of the chamber, where a tall table stood with a silk kerchief draped over it. Whipping off the colorful kerchief, Val revealed an opaque crystal ball. "Mother got it for me when I was 5! said if I was bored i could try to make it clear and perhaps see something." Val place her hands on the ball, closing her eyes. "Sometime if I concentrate enough, I can make it change colors!" For the next few minutes, Val scrunched up her face with concentration, trying to focus on the crystal ball. However, as much as she tried, the ball remained just as opaque and colorless. Val sighed sadly and turned away, "I used to be able to make something happen...oh I HATE being locked up here!" she shouted, kicking out at one of the armour stands.<br><br>Behind her, the crystal ball flared suddenly, its grey centre lighting up into a brilliant blue blaze. Arcs of lightning surged from the surface of the ball, lashing the stone walls and crackling up against the wooden furniture. Val shrieked and scampered to hide behind the armoured stand as the room swirled with a roar of wind. The candles snuffed in an instant, and the room became a dark howling gale, illuminated periodically by the crash of thunder, and a flash of lightning. A bolt of stray lightning zapped the curtain, incinerating it in a flash of fire and smoke. Then, as quickly as the ball erupted, it went out...the room thrown into darkness. From behind the armour stand, Val timidly emerged, her hand reaching out in the darkness. "Crispin? Are you there?" she whispered.<br><br>Her hand closed on warm cloth, and she threw herself into an embrace with Crispin, relieved to still have him in the room. "You didn't do it did you? Are you a wizard?" she asked, not realizing it was her own tantrum that had triggered the thunderstorm.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Delirium147</strong> on <strong>02-08-2014, 18:05:49</strong>
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				<strong>The life of Sebadorn</strong><br>The campaign was progressing steadily, his warriors pushing back the ogres with the help of Lucifia’s agents. Alya in particular had proven to be invaluable in scorching out the ogre-blight. He knew her to be his high-priestess’s second and protégé and could very well see her taking Lucifia’s position someday. Alya was Lucifia’s and by proxy thus, Sebadorn’s.<br><br>The king was sitting on a foldable field-chair, the piece of furniture looking extremely small under his bulking, muscular body. His great mace rested on his lap as he watched the scene before him. The human auxiliaries were being dragged from their pens, many of them previously occupied by the ogre’s own prisoners and slaves. The enemy’s men were hauled into the open and given to Pharika’s sisterhood to drain them of their life’s essence. The offering was generous and had ensured Sebadorn and Lucifia had parted on excellent terms. Alya had been leading the ritual, until he had called for her.<br><br>“We wish to thank you for your efforts in this battle, your service to save those lost souls is greatly appreciated.” The ogres had left behind scores of slaves, most of them broken in by their massive cocks and violent raping. Well, those that had survived their imprisonment by the monsters, for a good portion had served as food and nourishment instead of sexual toys.<br><br>“I understand that while Lucifia travels to the west to coordinate our actions against the Peructish savages, you are to take on her responsibilities instead for the time being.” The king inclined his crowned head, the tiny sword-crenulations of his royal attribute glinting crimson in the evening light. “We are open to your counsel, any time of day… or night.” Becoming Pharika’s champion had enhanced his strength and mind, but also caused his already regal appetites to increase as well. When a free moment presented himself, either Lucifia or Sebadorn would pay a visit to his or her tent, sometimes not waiting so long at all. They had frequently fucked in the open, rutting in the roadside or litter while the soldiers marched past.<br><br><br><br><strong>The life of Crispin</strong><br>“Indeed, your mother is someone known for her strong opinions, sweet Valencia,” Crispin said empathically. “I know she would be proud of you, of the woman you are quickly turning into.” He allowed himself to be dragged along to whatever it was that she wished to show him. The sorcerer listened intently to her explanation, the well-tended wheels of his mind turning and working quickly and efficiently.<br><br>The ball she had been concentrating on did not budge or react to whatever it was she was doing. A shame, Crispin thought, for he was the one who had originally provided her with the artefact. It was a magical catalyst, a conduit of sorts that amplified a sorcerer’s potential. He had done research, gathered information, spied, strong-armed and threatened his way to the position he was in now, and all because he thought that Valencia was something like that little magical ball: a conduit. Preliminary (and subtle) experiments showed that she could act like an amplifying vessel through which he could steer his powers. Without her, he was limited to his own capacities, but if she indeed proved to be a conduit, his magic would be boundless.<br><br>But then, as she vented her frustrations the ball lit up and sparked to life. A loud crackle filled the room as current and cooped up magic escaped. With a quick ward and automatic gesture, he blocked the excess energy.<br><br>After the explosion, the sconces and candles of the room were extinguished, but Crispin hummed a spell of clairvoyance, allowing him to see in the dark. “Yes, my dear,” he said, guiding her to him with his voice. “I am here, don’t you worry.” He felt Val’s arm wrap around his wide frame and soothingly padded her on the shoulders, giving her the warmth and comfort nobody else was able to.<br><br>Crispin grinned at her question. “I am, what you want me to be, Val.” He placed a kiss on her furrowed brow and flicked his fingers, suddenly igniting the candle-wicks and torches with his magic. “Yes, I can do things other people cannot… If you call that magic, then yes, I am a magician.”<br><br>“What happened here, with your opaque ball… was all you, my little sweetling. Does that excite you?” He still held her in his arms as he peered deep into her big eyes, as if devouring her entirely.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Crowns and Cloth</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucifia</strong> on <strong>03-08-2014, 15:40:49</strong>
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				There was nothing more dangerous than a dead god. Not because the deity had any potency, but rather the highest priests could then substitute their own agenda for the 'will of god'. She had seen it so many times before with some of the other religions. The god stopped responding to prayers, no more mythical creatures appeared, offerings went unheeded and uncollected. The head priest would then claim the offerings and prayers for himself, and dictate orders of his own. The more fantastical he was, the more people believed he was still in commune with the gods. The worshippers would carry out the orders without question, and an ordered religion would become a hidden dictatorship and tyranny. She hoped Pharika would be the one god to conquer all others...or that Lucifia perished before the god did. Otherwise the weight of the religion would fall on her. She would rather die a hero, than life to become villain.<br><br>So it was with the Peructish. Their old god had died long ago. Lucifia knew this from Pharika. Nearly all of the old gods had fallen, either in neglected obscurity or a blaze of destruction in a god duel. In this case, the god had simply faded away, unable to sustain itself on the simplistic and meagre offerings of the roaming tribes. She suspected the head priest of the Peructish people had pushed his agenda of genocide and conquest as a 'holy crusade'. After eliminating any doubters in their own ranks, the chaotic rabble of the savages had marched east to the the border of Cileria to begin their assault. There had been no warning to Cileria of this march. Any villages or camps the Peructish encountered were decimated. No survivors to carry the message.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://s3.amazonaws.com/juicyecumenism/wp-content/uploads/Siege-and-Fire.jpg)</div>Lucifia could see the plumes of smoke even before she saw the city walls. The Peructish Savages had renewed their assault against the fortress city of Estanor, the most western stronghold of Cileria. The fortress was built into the border wall at the narrow Estanor pass. It was one of only a few passages to the west, and thus took the brunt of the Peructish assault. All along the long raised parapet, the sounds of steel on iron rang out amidst the crackle of flames. As she drew close, she could hear the heavy swing of trebuchets and the resounding thud and crack of the heavy missiles against the stubborn fortifications. A tall tower on the side of the fortress, already wreathed in flames, took a shuddering impact to its base. The fortress groaned as the stone structure gave way, crumbling under the heat and stress. The tower slowly pealed away from the main structure, collapsing into the ground, blocking off one of the roads to the front. Soldiers and peasants alike rushed to the rubble pile, desperately shifting the broken pieces of masonry to allow reinforcements to get to the fore.<br><br>Lucifia knew she had arrived at a critical time and had to act fast. The defenders were stretched beyond their capabilities, reinforcements were dwindling, and part of their moral and defense had just crumbled to dust. Leaping from her platform, she signaled her acolyte who rushed with her towards the walls. Her entourage drew the eyes of many of the beleaguered people, who gazed in wary wonder at the green and gold scantily clad women who had arrived in their time of need. The acolytes formed a kneeling circle in the open courtyard around Lucifia and begun chanting, their fingers lifting their skirts and plunging into their wet tight pussies. Amidst the arrows and stones, Lucifia's eyes and hands glowed bright green as the familiar mist spiraled around her. Larger and larger it grew until the column was visible above the fortress walls. The plume of mist shifted and the head of the cobra emerged, this time dark and sinister, very unlike the bright green and gold of her Caemelor summoning. With a vengeful hiss, it rose higher, looming over the battlefield. Its shadow caused many of the defenders and attackers alike to turn fearfully, not knowing if this creature was benevolent or malevolent. They soon found out.<br><br>With a barking hiss, the Cobra spat poisonous rain down onto the battlefield. A deluge of simmering green ooze splashed the mashed up field. Bodies, both living and fallen began to bubble and hiss with acrid smoke and choking fumes. The writhing melee disintegrated instantly into a scrambling retreat on both sides. The gates were swiftly closed, and any defenders left outside were on their own to die a screaming horrible death, dissolved by Pharika's venom. The attacking bezerkers fared no better, as their battle rage carried them heedlessly into the growing toxic pools. Within moments the pools grew and connected, ponds became lakes, joined by rivers, until the entire field before the walls had become a deep moat of poison. Many of the forward catapults were reduced to mush and unusable soggy trash, only a few of the trebuchets at the back survived unscathed.<br><br>The defenders gave a ragged cheer at the gormless savages across the swamps before hastening to quell the spreading fires within the fortress. Lucifia established herself in the keep of the fortress to plan her next move. The toxic swamp would not last forever, and there were to many fortresses along the west to moat them all. The fantastical Peructish savages would be unmoved by any forces of human origin... they needed to see the true might and presence of a living god...a god that still influenced the world. Then perhaps the leader of the savages might think it unwise to challenge the rule of Sebadorn... <div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/52/640x537_9915_Clash_of_the_titans_concept_for_the_Aaron_Sims_company_3d_fantasy_creature_medusa_picture_image_digital_art.jpg)</div></div><br>*******<br><br>Alya knelt obediently before the shrine of Pharika with her legs parted. A single dark green snake coiled around her thigh, its tail lightly caressing her puckered asshole while it nosed gently at her clit. Her eyes rolled back, showing only white as she swayed back and forth in the smoky room. She and Lucifia were communing across the great distance, the head priestess's voice like whispers - smooth and sibilant. "I need essense, Alya...I shall be summoning Pharika's guard to aid in this fight...you will need to have King Sebadorn give his essence as well, preferably to one of the main acolytes such as yourself. In fact I believe he may prefer it that way." Alya gave a small sighing moan as the head of the snake slipped into her pussy, it's triangle head pushing up against her sensitive flesh. Slowly it slithered deeper into her body, making her shiver with unstoppable pleasure. Lucifia continued, "Gather all prisoners of war and collect their essence. Slaughter the ogres...their semen is worthless, but their blood is thick and rich. Go now, lover...make me proud." Alya groaned as the room swam back into focus, the snake withdrawing with a cunt juice slick head. Rising from her position, she strode determinedly from the room. For much of her life, the head priestesses had largely ignored her, but Lucifia recognized the potential in Alya. Now had given her a key task. A ritual all on her own.<br><br>Whispering a few words to her attendants and Vipers, Alya marched to Sebadorn's temporary throne room. It was a room of savage finery, with weapons and conquest maps all over the walls. No signs of overt or unnecessary wealth or leisure, except for the large pillow pit, which served as a bed and a pleasure playground. At the table, Sebadorn stood discussing tactics with several of his generals. His enormous size dwarfed the generals, and he radiated a power like a god himself. Alya shivered slightly as Sebadorn raised his icy eyes to hers. No wonder he was a perfect match for Lucifia, ambitious, powerful, and strong. "Your highness, Lucifia begins her campaign against the western tribes. She has requested essence, from yourself, and from the prisoners of war. Shall you be available tonight?" If Sebadorn agreed, (and of course he would), Alya had made preparations accordingly. Only Lucifia could handle Sebadorn one to one, so Alya had brought two of the temple's best acolytes.<br><br>Meanwhile, her attendants had gathered up the remaining living ogres and enemy humans. The humans were given a simple choice. Blood or Semen, given the devastatingly attractive attendants, they all chose semen. They were prepared by being given a bath, then locked in a prison cell in the main courtyard separated by gender. A number of incense burners wafted aphrodisiac smoke through the cage, inflaming their libidos, while belly dancing slaves teased them with their sensual movements. By nightfall the hundred or so men and women would be in a frantic blinding fucklust, perfect for the ritual. The ogres would fair poorer, saved only for the slaughter. Pharika had no use for the mythic creature of another god.
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