LewdKaiser
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17—The Haunting of the Ebon Gild
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 09:21:04 +0000 UTCShe had returned to the burned kitchen. It still smelled of sausage fat and wild smoke. She had put out the fire when she had left. Perhaps that was a mistake. She should have kept it running. She needed that warm water now more than ever. There was a large sink at the rear of the kitchen. The tap worked. The water was clean and running. Whoever designed it must have taken great care to maintain it.
Cold as the water was, she needed it. She stripped herself and carelessly threw the clothing in a bundle in a corner. No one would care. No one would see her. No one would care except the rats, and they'd chew her dick off before they'd suck it. Most of the dried blood and rat sinew was stuck to her clothes. Her skin was mostly just clammy with sweat and dirt, and the bleeding wound on her leg.
She climbed in the big sink. Who knew what the fuck its purpose was? She was going to use it as a halfway bath, half sitting, half standing in it. No one could judge her. She let the tap flow freely, water rushing like a waterfall. Starting with her hands, and then making sure to wash her thigh thoroughly and, of course, her fucked-up calf.
The wound wasn't that bad—skin deep at most.
She thought of something her mother had told her a lot. "Rennia, filth is a curse you wear on the inside, just as on the outside. Clean with intent, in affairs homely and public."
Philosophy, that wouldn't do much good for her now anyway.
Something warm tickled her.
Her eyes widened. The water had started warming, gradually and suddenly. Like someone was breathing down her neck.
She froze in the lukewarm, turning hotter water, goosebumps rising. This was great. There was no explanation, but she could hear the pipes whistle like a kettle. The water started filling the kitchen "tub."
She called out to the universe itself. "Living system, is this your doing?"
No answer, but finally she wouldn't smell of mildew and soot.
No ping. Just warm water.
Naked, soothing, and enjoying herself even. The steam started filling her vision. The water seemed to adjust based on the temperature of the tub. Perhaps someone had placed some kind of rune mechanism on it. Who cared.
As she finished cleaning herself with the bar of soap she had thoughtfully remembered to bring, her fingers had trailed between her legs, below her stomach, where the ridge of the sink made a nice incline. She wasn't horny, just needy. Her body called to her to exercise it, to play with it. To relieve herself of the stress and all the morning motion she felt. Call it sexual maintenance if you want.
The heat still lingered and her cock kept growing. It always started small but grew to absurd degrees. She started stroking slowly, foreskin pulled back and the glans glowing under the sunlight. She needed a nice image, something sexy in her mind. Aggressive sex, anything. Tiamael was the first thing that came to mind, but she had tended to her needs, said nothing, played it off.
That wasn't enough. She couldn't stop there. She was powerful, and Rennia believed she was secretly a dragon in hiding. That would have been nice, wouldn't it? To have taken her offer, to have held the woman down by her throat and stuck her dick inside of her mouth, thrusting and pushing her hips, and then forcing her to eat her seed. To feed Tiamael, a powerful individual like a hungry slut, impregnate her.
That excited her. That really excited her, made her all giddy.
Rennia orgasmed, and white liquid filled the kitchen tub. Euphoria washed over her. Relief. Calmness. She could do it again, but she wanted to wear a pair of fresh clothes, make a proper shelter before night fell again.
There was shame in what she did. But also curiosity. A part of her was curious, and her head started gathering depraved thoughts. What could it be like to masturbate using both her genitals? How many cocks could she take at once, while giving her own? She had two hands, two holes, two feet, suckable balls, and a cock that was available to be sucked.
No.
That's
That's disgusting.
Rennia slapped herself hard. She winced. Then the aftermath of her solo climax hit her. These were immoral thoughts. The clergyman was right. Corruption—it had to be. No sane person would think that was normal.
No one.
She heard something, and her head snapped behind her.
There at the edge of the kitchen was a hatch she didn't take much attention to before. It just clicked. Clicked as in some mechanism just moved. Clicked as in she wasn't alone, possibly.
She approached, quickly throwing together a bunch of mismatched clothing and tunics to cover herself, her sword in her hand. If half her suspicions were correct, then there was another person here—the master perhaps. Did they cause this explosion or were they hiding from someone or something?
There were old markings on the hatch. Not glyphs but wet handprints almost burned into the wood. One very large, and one a full nine inches smaller than you'd expect from a smaller human or a large dwarf.
She lifts it warily, looks inside—nothing but the darkness. But her hairs were slowly raising. She half considered fleeing. "No, Rennia, you're a warrior, or formerly was a jack of all trades. You're a fighter. You always get through."
Her self encouragement didn't help much.
As the rusty hinge creaked, she placed her hands on it. Trying to silence the noise so she could listen, and then slightly noticed in the dark very small stairs that led downwards. Faint light could be seen. It smelled like old wax and iron, liquid iron, possibly blood.
She backed away. There was no way she was going in there. She stood up. And then her tunic got caught on the hinge.
"Fudgeknuckles." She lifted her shirt and it tore, and propelled her forward.
"No!"
"Fuck!"
The wood cracked, and Rennia tumbled downwards, rolling off the stairs, head slamming, and her back battered by every step downwards. Her head hits something hard and round, wooden—a barrel. Dust started erupting everywhere, and she kept coughing. Trying to find air, wheezing. Something dropped onto her head. Warm water, water from the pipe. She looked up.
Torches started bursting alight, white and blue flame. The wrong color, the non-normal color. The type of flame that didn't burn anything but souls. A large mirror stood in the back and mist was forming in its reflection.
A woman, smaller than her in size but all wrong.
She was bare, but pale like a snow woman, a spirit that took your whole being for disobedience. Her face was veiled, but her breasts were uncovered, smooth. Her nipples were misty and smoke covered her lower body. Just like the ghosts she feared as a child.
She smirked.
Rennia started wiggling but she couldn't move. She was paralyzed.
"He—help. Hel… help…." The words barely came out. No one would hear her.
The ghostly figure emerged from the mirror, taking slow steps towards the girl on the ground, and then she spoke.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the whore who abandoned me." The ghost woman purred. "I've been waiting years for you to show up. Well now, I suppose I'll have to punish, reinstall the discipline I taught you."
Rennia scrambled backwards, slipping in more dust, and then fell on her ass. The tunic slipped off her, making her bare.
The ghost drifted closer, and the smoky mist disappeared. Rennia gawked. A massive eight-inch cock was attached to the specter. She gripped it as she approached and was moving closer and closer to her butt.
"Wait. Your ass shape is all wrong, and your soul is so weak. How am I to sate my needs if you look like this, Ilna?" The specter frowned and the veil disappeared. The metaphysical cock shrank. And the ghost stood over Rennia, looking down. "You're not that bitch… who are you?"
Rennia was ice cold. She could feel the spook's presence. It was like walking into the ocean without warning. The thing had a penis, and she had ideas what would happen to her if the demon took her soul.
Rennia didn't move. Then she felt something leak out of her, pussy. She soiled herself.
"Aww, you pissed yourself, how immature," she said, giggling.
Rennia felt a pressure grip her throat.
"Who are you? I won't ask too many times. You see this cock. Do you know what ghost cock feels like? I will fuck the soul out of you." The ghost whispered to her. "OUT WITH IT!!!"
Her shriek instilled fear in Rennia, who became catatonic. She stared at the dark walls, not moving.
"R-Rennia."
The spirit slipped away, a hand over her mouth, and put on a apologetic face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else. I…thought you…" The ghost turned away, and more light drifted on.
"Rennia Perilion."
The ghost turned to the girl on the ground. She took one last look at her and shook her head.
"Ilna's your mother?"
Rennia whispered. "You're dead, please, please don't take my soul."
The ghost snorted.
"I am preserved. Death is reserved for the poor. I left my body during the explosion—we were assailed, caught off guard, but strangely none of my former party came to look for me. How strange, but look at you, little thing. And what is that?" The spook's eyes locked onto her crotch.
Rennia's body shivered, and it became cold like ice. She felt her penis rise, and next thing she knew fiend was sitting on her, gripping it cock hard and giggling.
"How curious. Another one of you. The apple doesn't fall from the tree. But this tree is large."
