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Toybox #14: Deus 4
🕑 Added 2023-10-29 18:42:20 +0000 UTCChapter Four:
A storm did come, and it slowed travel considerably. Weissstadt was hardly affected by it, as the storm skirted the city on the western side. They got rain and little else, but they knew enough as to why the cleric did not arrive at the right time, and they grew worried. Thompson, in particular, saw a sickness sweep over his people and had a near mutiny on his hands.
The sinister ubiquity of the boy was undeniable, and rumors spread through the city. The men guarding him were affected by their time there. They had wild dreams of cruel laughter and woke shaken and sick. Their wives were disgruntled that they came home quiet, timid, and unable to satisfy them. Most of the men could not get hard save for when they imagined their wives with other men, and even in that state, they could not focus during love making with such thoughts bouncing about their skulls.
Thompson understood the malady but did not speak on it at length until he approached Morgan about it late one morning. Morgan was in her office and taking tea as she stared at the city coming to life around her. Thompson had knocked politely at the door and bowed as he entered.
“You look tired,” said Morgan, and Thompson nodded.
“We all are,” he said.
“Are you?” She sipped her tea. “Mm. Is this about the hut, captain?”
Thompson nodded again, and Morgan smiled. She, too, had been having dreams, but she told no one about them.
“I would have assumed that the act of merely standing guard at a door would have been thought less demanding than fighting trolls or wargs, but I appear to be mistaken.”
“Such fights are treacherous, but they are also direct,” said Thompson, but he shied away from looking Morgan in the eyes. Even without having such dreams haunting him, Thompson was intimidated by Morgan. She was a few inches shorter than him and not a woman of physical prowess, but she had a shrewd, inspecting gaze that made him second guess every word he said as he was in the act of saying it. “Mayor, I must speak plainly: my men are refusing to watch the hut for any longer.”
"They are refusing," she asked with an arched eyebrow. Thompson flinched. She set her tea cup down, and the delicate contact of the cup with the plate on which it sat landed like the blow of a gavel. "Do your people often refuse you, captain?"
Thompson swallowed. "N-No, ma'am." He stood a little bit straighter, but he was still a slight man. Looking at him, she resented him for his frailty, and she thought of the sleeping boy in the healing hut and felt a fire between her thighs. "What I meant to say was…They fear the curse." He cleared his throat and added, "And I do, too."
"Then assure them that it will be fine," she said calmly and with a practiced, commanding smile. It was without humor and full of resentment. "Our priestess has already done the rites. She will contain the curse and protect them, and when the cleric arrives, it will be expunged in its entirety."
Captain Thompson hesitated. He swallowed again. "Understood, ma'am."
"Good," she said. "So, when I walk the city streets, I expect to see guards on task."
Thompson nodded again. "Of course, ma'am."
And when she did walk the streets, she did see them there.
Alone in the room with the boy, Kia felt an almost painful yearning. She stared at him, and she could smell the very sweat of him from across the room. The air was thick with his scent, and it both warned her and enticed her of the pleasure he could provide. She did not understand it, and yet she wanted it.
Kia had not felt such arousal since her youth. Even her husband, handsome as he was, could not produce such a powerful want from her, and yet this sleeping boy had her so moist that her loins were slick with her want. She paced the floor, and she stared at him as she clutched her star between her breasts and told herself to stay calm for fear of what she would do.
The guard were frightened of this boy and of the curse he carried, and she understood why. The mayor was frightened, too, though she remained brave in the face of her fear. Kia held no fear, though. She was a devout, and she was a priestess of the seven. Though she commanded no magic formally, she knew that their divine gaze was fixed on her and would carry her through evil to safety.
"And yet here is this evil thing that they have not carried me from," she told herself, and she approached the boy's sleeping form. He was slight, and his skin was unnaturally pale, like he had never seen sunlight before. Closer, the smell of him was stronger. He stunk, honestly. His body reeked of sweat and of sex, and she could only imagine what horrible things Samantha and her apprentice had been visiting upon him.
He looked at her, or she thought he had, but when she searched his face, she found him only calmly sleeping. She moved even closer, and the bulge of his manhood was evident. He was large, of that Kia felt certain, and judging by his tented blanket, she imagined him to be significantly larger than her husband, a man who was otherwise larger besides.
"He is but a boy," she told herself, though she saw tangible evidence to the contrary before her eyes. She flexed her legs and felt the slick wetness of her thighs press together beneath her robes. "And yet…"
Moving closer, Kia felt him timidly through the blanket. Her fingers traced the outline of his length, and she fully comprehended for the first time just how large he was. Hands quaking, she swallowed her held breath and slowly and carefully moved the blanket to reveal him. He was still naked from the waist down, and his legs were spindly and weak from disuse. His manhood, however, was mighty.
"Oh Divine," she whispered, and her fingers touched him directly. He had been rigid and warm through the blanket, but now he felt like holding hot, veiny steel. She stroked him carefully and with full recognition of his might, and each movement took her from the apex of his length down to the valley dark hair at the base of him. "Castitas, forgive me…"
Hitching her robe up, Kia held him steady in her dark hands and mounted him, and she eased herself down on him and felt something inside of her break as pleasure subsumed her. Her eyes were wide, and she stared down into his sleeping face as she stretched herself on his impossible length and girth and gave herself over to the pleasure of him. She did not stop until she had him to the base, and her dark pubic hair tangled with his as she settled on him.
"No," she crooned, and she rested her hands on his shoulders and wheezed to catch her breath. She glared at him in his sleep and resented him for the pleasure he gave her. He was good, easily better than her husband, and he was not even trying. It was the perfection of him and, as she wetted him and came for him, she realized that she added to the stink of his unwashed body and came again.
"This is sinful," she told herself, but she moved on him anyway. As she did, she swore his eyes opened again, and this time she swore he was watching her. One eye was dark like hers, but the other was a bloody, almost violent red with pink striations woven through it like a thread. She leaned forward and cupped his watching face lovingly, and she showered him with kisses, but each time she blinked she came back to find him still asleep as she used him for her own pleasure.
Without meaning to, Kia began comparing the cursed boy to her husband and found her husband wanting. The way she was stretched and filled by this boy's rigidity was more than her husband could ever hope to give her, and each movement of her body grew more willing and more eager as the pleasure he gave endowed her with vigor. "Yes," she hissed, rolling her hips into him and flexing around him. She stroked him with her cleft, and he responded by throbbing and pulsing deep inside of her.
He was close, and she forgot her husband in her urgent need to finish him. Aloud, she whispered, "Just one time. Just this one time. Release it. Release your sin into me. In the name of the Divine. In the name of the Seven. In the name of…Of…" She quivered as her stretched, battered insides flexed and tightened. "In the name of…Ah!!!" He came, and she did, too.
Kia lost track of time as crashing waves of rapture washed over her. It was a divine experience if she had ever experienced one. She saw the light of the heavens, and she basked in it as her insides warmed with the boy's overflowing seed, and she sat on him and shook and panted and sweated until she lost track of herself. Then, she woke up on top of him a rictus of pleasure with her jaw tight and her eyes closed.
"By the Divine," she breathed, and she sat up on her hands and stared down at the boy's handsome young face. "That was…" Without thinking, she kissed him full on the lips and mewled. With a flex, she slid off of him, and like the other two before her, she sucked him clean with lavish, loving movements of her tongue and lips before she tucked him away and retreated from the hut for fresh air and prayer.
Prayer did little to soothe the heat that Kia had implanted in her loins. Still wet and bloated with semen, she spends the day toweling her thighs to hide the sin she had committed. Her husband seemed to notice a change in her but said nothing of it to her. He knew better, though Kia felt certain that he could smell the sex on her.
She left that evening to check on the sleeping boy again. It was her intention to see him and confirm his health, but she knew deep down that any visitation had the likelihood of ending in sin. This was a problem, but it was not a problem that she had a solution to. She had to do her duty in attending to him, and by her understanding of the situation, she may very well be protecting the town from the spread of his curse by taking the curse into herself.
On the way to the healing hut, Kia had her journey interrupted by Morgan. Though Morgan was shorter than Kia, she carried herself with a hint of authority that made even the priestess stand to attention. Normally, the two of them were on equal footing, but things were no longer normal for Kia. When she saw Morgan, she felt her face flush as infidelity rose to her cheeks. She avoided Morgan's gaze and, judging by how Morgan watched her, Morgan knew why.
"Priestess Kia, out for a stroll?"
"Just visiting our charge," Kia said, and she spoke to the ground and to her feet. The soil was wet and muddy beneath her sandals.
"I see," said Morgan distantly. "And how he is?"
"He is…attended to," said Kia.
"The guard fear him," said Morgan. "I fear there might be a revolt if the cleric does not soon arrive."
The priestess nodded but said nothing.
"Do you fear his influence, priestess?"
Kia, cheeks warm and burning hot, felt the flush crawl to her ears. She looked at Morgan in worried fright. "N-No. No, of course not. Why should? A devout priestess of the Seven? I am forever protected from his influence, whatever that influence might be," she said, but she felt thick semen oozing out of her still.
Morgan surveyed the city. She seemed distracted again, and Kia thought for a moment that she could see a pink glow on the other woman's cheeks, but when Morgan looked her in the eyes, Kia saw accusation again instead. "We need this finished quickly," said Morgan. "I do not want to be the one to say it, but I fear that we might have been better suited to have slain the boy the moment we saw him."
A sudden worry stabbed Kia in the chest, but she bit back her concern and spoke evenly in response. "Perhaps, but consider what Caritas' words: it is in giving that we combat greed. Or the words of Humanitas, the pure: Only through selfless acts can we make the world that we want out of the world that we have."
Morgan frowned but did not argue. "I should not hold you any longer. You've work to do."
Kia nodded. "Farewell."
"You also," said Morgan, and she patted Kia lightly on the shoulder as they passed.
At the healing hut, Kia succumb to her impulses again, but she used her mouth this time to alleviate her charge and ate greedily of what he gave.
