*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla stared at the mountain entrance. Granted she hadn't spent much time around mountains and was really only putting up with them due to the scripts she found that promised power in the midst of these. But the cave entrance looked like a bad place to go to her. It was a jagged opening in the mountainside with little assurance that the tops wouldn't just decide to crash together on top of her.
However, when she had been asking directions in the town at the bottom of the Torian mountains, the guide had crossed himself and spouted off in a fountain of excitement and terror, forgetting she couldn't understand his language. When he calmed down enough, he resolutely refused to give her any other directions. It had taken three days, at least a dozen tour guide interviews, and all her silver before she finally found one that was willing to give her the directions she wanted. He had still refused to guide her anywhere closer than a mile of the cave entrance.
So, without a guide she had to wonder if she hadn't chosen a wrong way somewhere. But she'd double and triple checked her way through the directions and it really was the only gash in the side of the mountain that looked like some sort of an entrance, even if it looked like a terrible one. She stared at it for a long while, deliberating.
In the end it was the scrolls she had found in the Citadel library that urged her on. She'd spent months deciphering the text only to find the promise of power to reverse death. The fountain of life the texts called it. Eternal youth, health, power, and all the heart could ever wish for if one was brave enough to seek it and pay for it. The Citadel's magic was the greatest in the known Verarian world, it was true. But no one knew the power of eternal life. Not real eternal life. The vampyres, scaled dragon fiends, and other creatures who fed on blood or magic had longevity. But they still weren't truly immortal. They still needed to find their sustenance. They still relied on nourishment and eventually still died.
Besides all that they could still sustain mortal wounds.
But the scripts promised true reversal. Scylla took a breath and stepped through the narrow gash in the mountain. She didn't want to settle for longevity. She wanted to watch the world die. She wanted it all or nothing.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys the Necromancer had been woken from his slumber a few weeks prior. It happened throughout the years. He was never allowed to slumber forever, no matter how long he'd been alive and that was quite a while. Something from his dark gods always aroused him from his dead sleep for some dark purpose. Normally it involved a lot of war, a lot of death, and phenomenal amounts of power.
So far, his purpose had not been revealed to him this time. But that was no matter. He had ways of entertaining himself. Ever the faithful servant, he was patient. And he awaited his signs from the gods. He had all the time in the world, as it were. Until the sun failed to rise and the stars burned into nothing, he would breathe. And even when there was nothing left to breathe and his body obliterated with the world, his soul might well cling to whatever pieces it could find and float forever in a hell of nothingness.
He didn't know. Hadn't considered it. His gods weren't a kind type though. So it wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but if that were his fate then he would accept it gladly.
Besides, he was not bored by any means. When he'd laid himself to rest he had slumbered with all manner of preserved playthings. The first day after he had risen in his throne like tomb in the mountains he had woken his toys and decorated his rooms with them. He had something like a small piece of a castle deep in the caves. There were lakes of acid, the cleansing liquid fire of his gods. There were bedrooms for him. There were iron cells in a dungeon setup and there were rooms with distorted avatars of his black gods. All of these preserved with the same hideous magic that caused Rhys to draw breath.
But his favorite room was a mockery of a throne room. Decorating his throne room was what he'd amused himself with for the past few months. He had gotten creative with his toys to do so.
The creatures he controlled could be divided into two categories. There were the thralls, creatures who he had raised from death and preserved. These he liked to use as decorative furniture, of a sort. This time he'd taken two female thralls and impaled them on stakes on either side of his throne. The lovely thing about reanimated creatures was that they no longer needed their delicate internal organs. After a week or two he had lovingly pierced the two of them through from anus up through their mouths and placed the bottoms of the stakes in holders on either side of the throne. They were much like grotesque little statues now, both brunette. Perhaps in life they had even been twins. He couldn't remember anymore. Now he only knew them as his lovely toys. He affectionately pinched the right nipple of the one on the left of his throne. In answer the body twitched. There was no sound around the stake, but the thrall twitched as if the little movement hurt her and Rhys chuckled.
From there he'd formed many other modifications. The thralls were his and his alone. He had absolute and total control over them. If he commanded one to stillness, they would be magically forced to do so until either the end of time or until he reverted the command. So he'd carved and reshaped his creatures into reanimated artwork. Another of his favorites was one designed to look like a horse. He had amputated her arms and sewn a horse shape around her head. Black leather formed a harness around her torso and emphasized her bare breasts. His favorite part was the sex between her legs, though. Rhys had taken the lips of her sex and spread them apart, stretching them with weights for weeks. And then he had sewn each stretched labia to the insides of her thighs. When she stood, he made her spread her legs wide apart. She still stood like that. When he passed her and pat her mane of hair affectionately tears fell around the sewn horse head. Rhys paused and soothed the toy's hair again.
"Now, now, no tears. What good could do they do you, my sweet?" She couldn't answer, of course. The horse mouth wasn't made to open. She couldn't even move. She only blinked in misery at him and Rhys chuckled. "You'll grow used to your fate. After a century, you won't even remember how it felt to be any different, I promise."
With that he moved on. The thralls were good, but the next category of creature was his favorite.
The priestesses were reanimated as well, but not by him. Oh, he killed them to aid in their creation, but they were ones who swore to serve the gods and therefore belonged to them. For this reason they had a will of sorts. However, Rhys had proven himself the most loyal of zealots and it fell on him to be the master of the priestesses.
He trained them, instructed them, disciplined, taught, and shaped them into servants. His favorite priestess lay sobbing before his grotesque throne.
Her name was Hallie. He had found her two centuries ago as a pretty, innocent teenager. And he had lured her to the necromancy gods with the promise of true eternal youth. Oh, how innocent little Hallie had been then.
She'd stared up at him like he was an angel right up until he introduced her to the acid bath that she would drown in while being reformed in that liquid fire of the gods. The acid had burned away every hair follicle on her body, turning her into the mannequin appearance that was trademark of most necromancer priestesses. After that she had looked on him in fear. But Rhys had been far from finished. He had gone on to remove her clit, like he did with all priestesses. He'd learned ages ago that it was a good way to desecrate and corrupt a little priestess, if used to the correct manipulation. Hallie, of course, had even then still tried to rebel, but she had learned after her fair share of punishment. She'd learned to obey Rhys as her eternal master, just like the other five priestesses he had trained.
Now she lay on the floor before his throne. At first he had taken to using his six girls for entertainment. He had fucked and then commanded them to perform while he watched. But after time, he had gotten bored and wanted something more. He had started with Hallie, his lovely Hallie.
She cringed away from him when he knelt beside her to study his work. Rhys tsked in disapproval and found the pain centers of her body, twisting them a bit in reprimand. Hallie yelped in response, but went still and merely sobbed all the harder when he touched her. "Oh come now, child. You had already been rid of your clit for centuries. My new modification wasn't so much of a stretch from that. Is it the pain, pet?"
Rhys spread the girl's legs and studied what he'd done with growing pleasure. It had taken a bit of surgical work and Rhys never blunted the pain for his subjects. It took a bit more necromancy to keep the nerves feeling, but he preferred his playmates to feel every bit of what he did. When it was done, he wanted them to feel to the depths of their undeath who was their master and who controlled every part of their lives. So Hallie undoubtedly did feel a good deal of pain.
For Rhys had cut pieces of her sex away. They were clean cuts. No blood, of course. Like every other creature in Rhys' caves there was not a drop of blood left in her reanimated body. The skin merely fell away while the child screamed and didn't dare move away or stop him. And after he had cut enough of inner labia, he had sewn the outer labia together. Now there was a neat little line with his stitch work and this he had made look like ribbons crossing where her vaginal opening used to be. For his own purposes he had left a small opening just above her anus, just large enough for the tip of his smallest finger to tease. And he had carefully sewn the very inside edges together so that the sensitive nerves could still be licked and used to ignite pleasure in Hallie, if not satisfying pleasure.
"Beautiful," Rhys breathed. And it was so satisfying to see. Hallie shivered beneath his gaze and Rhys sighed. "Alright, let's see if we can distract you." He mentally reached with his magic to the mind of one of Hallie's sister priestesses. The answer was one of terror, but the antechamber door opened without delay and one called Sarai approached him, quivering from head to foot.
"You called, Your Grace?" Her voice was a soft mouse voice. Another one that Rhys had tricked and forced into obedience. Hairless, like her sister, and broken into submission to him and his gods. Her skin was bone white, her eyes gray with the film of death. Just like Hallie.
Rhys smiled. "I did. Your sister hurts. Why don't you lick her wounds for her?"
Sarai looked down at the favorite priestess and studied the mutilation while Rhys felt the terror in her mind grow with amused pleasure. Her thoughts brushed his mind. If he had done this to his favorite priestess, what might he decide to do to Sarai in his boredom?
Still, though, her terror of disobedience was far stronger than any horror she felt. She knelt between Hallie's legs and Rhys watched as she lowered her head. She hesitated for a slight moment, staring at the delicate stitch work that would permanently close most of Hallie's sex with disgusted fascination. Rhys listened to the thoughts as she forced herself to tenuously lick her tongue up the outer edges of the small slit between stitches.
"Good girl." Rhys sat in his throne, leaning forward and pressing his mind to the pleasure center of Sarai's brain, firing magical sparks through the girl's body. Unwillingly, she gasped with desire. "After all these years, priestess, I believe you know that this will go much easier for you if you just give yourself over to my will and play along. Accept the pleasure."
Still, though, she fought it. She always did. Even while she licked and sucked at what was left of Hallie's sex. Even while Rhys sent signals of pleasure running through her body, she tried to resist.
But Rhys won. In the end, he always did. Soon the priestess' body moved with pure desire. Her hips thrust up and down with need, a dancing motion of sexuality. Rhys stood and circled behind her, stroking the perfectly smooth skin of her head. "That's it. Isn't that much better, then?" Hallie was no longer sobbing. Her hands were fists at her side, her eyes shut tight, her breathing ragged in between harsh pants and moans. "I'm sure if you tongued the opening I've left, she would enjoy it." Sarai immediately and eagerly obeyed, rimming a hole too small for more than just the tip of her tongue. Hallie rubbed her fingertips down the closed slit and writhed in response. Rhys closed his eyes and inhaled the strong scent of desire and sex and cum.
But there was another scent too, one that made his eyes snap open. He bared his teeth for a brief moment, much as an animal would immediately react to something it didn't quite like. But then he grinned.
The scent of life was in his caves and it wouldn't be long before whomever it was reached his very throne room.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla has definitely found what the scripts were referring to. It hadn't been long before the rocky cliff had delved deeper into the mountain and transformed into a great hallway. Wall sconces held torches with bright blue flames and the carpets were rich and luxurious beneath the soles of her feet. The hallways broke off into corridors but Ascylla kept following the hall forward for the time being, fascinated. The place was so pretty for what had once been a jagged cliff overhang. Bloody hell, it was downright gorgeous. And so huge too.
The great hall ended in ornate doors. Ascylla took a moment to stare back the way she had come and thought she saw small flashes of light over the torches. Some small voice in her head whispered for her to turn back. Something was very wrong about all of this.
She ignored it and turned around to shove the hall doors open, expecting to have to struggle. Instead, the doors opened on their own accord before she could even touch them.
Ascylla stared down the appearance of a throne room at a figure that stood watching her. There was movement at the foot of a great throne and statues lined the walkway and stood on either side of the throne.
There was really nothing else for it after she had come so far. Ascylla walked forward.
After so many steps she realized the figure watching her was a man. His features came into relief as she drew nearer. His hair was dark, he had a slight form, his fingers were long and elegant. He was quite handsome actually. He tilted his head curiously even while Ascylla did a mirror movement.
For a while she stopped and just stood before him, staring. Gods, but the man was rather beautiful. The lovely flowing robes he wore were lined with pale blue. She finally made herself wave cautiously. "My name is Ascylla."
The man's face broke into a delightful smile. "Forgive me my manners. It has been a very long time since I've had to use them. I am Rhys Loveless."
Ascylla nodded and finally focused on the figures in front of the throne. Her eyes widened and she gasped.
The two creatures were both naked and completely hairless. Their skin was pale as death. One of them looked up to the sound of her gasp and blinked at her with gray eyes glazed with sex. When her head lifted from between the legs of the other figure, Ascylla got a full view of a nearly sexless creature. The first of them whimpered.
Behind her the man tsked. "Did I say to stop?" The creature moaned as if in pain and went back to licking between the legs of the other. Ascylla watched in twisted fascination. The other girl, if you could call her that, couldn't possibly feel much of anything between her legs but she seemed to writhe all the same.
She spun around to the man who still watched her with a calm smile. "Necromancer! That's what the fucking scrolls were talking about? You - you -" She backed away and backed right into something solid and cold. Shivering, she turned and realized it was one of the things she had previously thought to be statues. Except the gray, dead eyes moved and watched her as if pleading for help. And Scylla could guess why. The creature had been disfigured. It had no arms or legs anymore and was held up by two poles with a phallus on the ends inserted into the sex and anus of the torso. Its mouth was held open with an odd shaped gag but it had no tongue. Scylla felt herself shiver.
A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned slowly to face the Necromancer who touched her with ice cold hands. Rhys smiled down at her. "The scrolls? You mean the scripts from several hundred years ago that promise of true eternal youth, yes?" He chuckled under his breath. "I might have guessed those would resurface. So you're a little librarian then. And you decided you would come to the darkest depth of the mountains despite all the warnings and pursue eternal life? Well, little girl. I'm pleased to hear it. I will give you exactly the reward your efforts have earned."
She barely managed to shout a "No!" before the world started to go dark and the Necromancer caught her with a wide smile.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys watched his new little guest with interest and indecision. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. He had no food that would sustain a living guest, except perhaps maggots. So that left three choices. Kill her and leave her dead, kill her and raise her as a thrall, or kill her and raise her in the honor of a priestess.
At the moment he was leaning towards the latter. It had been so very long since he'd broken a new priestess. And this girl, Ascylla, was rather to his liking. She had a small figure, lovely blond hair, a cute little nose. She looked the picture of an innocent librarian really. And he did love getting to watch the horror of the innocent when he started on them.
Hallie stood silently by his side while he watched. At last the girl stirred in her dungeon cell and Rhys watched her awaken, smiling slightly to himself.
She cried out when she realized she wasn't in her home and memory came back to her. He watched it wash over her face with interest. The dawning realization like a face full of ice water, followed by the inevitable terror. Her eyes turned to Hallie by his side and wandered to stare between the girl's legs. Some expression he couldn't quite identify crossed her gaze, some excited emotion. A different kind of fear perhaps?
"Well, good evening, lovely trespasser."
She snapped her gaze back to Rhys' and he smiled. "It's alright. You can admire my little slaves. I rather like to myself." To emphasize he turned slightly and slapped where Hallie's pussy used to be, pulling a soft groan from her. The girl in the cell stared at his hand even after he withdrew.
She swallowed. "Are you going to kill me?"
Rhys studied his nails. "Oh, certainly. I was just deciding how to kill you and what to turn you into. Maybe I'll leave it to you. Would you rather stay dead, be a thrall, or be a priestess?"
Her gaze flickered to Hallie again. "A priestess like her?"
"Yes." Rhys watched her. That other emotion crossed her eyes again and what was more, she smelled... odd. There was something more than just terror in that smell, a thick sweet scent that his body seemed to enjoy. "Would you like to know exactly what will happen to you?" She stared at him, unable to answer, but that was quite alright. Rhys understood the meaning in the gaze. She both did and didn't want to know what horrors awaited her. So he decided for her. "I'm going to take you to a chamber with the vats of liquid fire of the gods. You will die by drowning in their fire and you will be reborn in the same fire. After, you will be bathed again in a small lake of sorts. I cannot describe what happens there, for words are not justice. It must be experienced. You will come back with your new appearance. Most often the gods maintain the standard hairless creature you've seen so far in the priestesses. Sometimes they differ. When you return you will be given to my care for training and worship in the black arts of death. I will burn your clit away with necromancy like I do all my priestesses and you will learn the purpose of that with reinforcement. You will learn to obey. Perhaps you will fight me in the beginning. Many do, but they learn."
"With what kind of punishment?" Ascylla finally spoke in a breathless fear.
Rhys stood. "Come here, Hallie. Let's demonstrate for our guest."
At that the priestess burst into a sob. "No, Your Grace, please! Please, I've done nothing wrong! I've obeyed through all the modifications!"
"I'm waiting, Hallie."
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla stared. The priestess seemed in a state of real petrified horror. She quivered all over. And Ascylla would like to imagine that the only emotion she felt in the midst of the nightmare of the Necromancer Lord's kingdom was horror and fear. But there was so much fascination there too. Rhys' imagination was pure wicked and he had an odd little sadistic smile at the sight of his priestess' distress. The smile widened as the terror of displeasing him won over the terror of what he demanded of her. She stepped to his outstretched arms and Rhys guided her to the front of Ascylla's cage. He looked up and met her gaze. "Attend, little trespasser. You will learn to appreciate that word from my lips. It is the first command you will learn. It means to observe."
Hallie shrieked and Ascylla couldn't have turned her gaze away even if she wanted to. Hallie's face grew mottled, the lips turned gray, and the skin seemed to turn to dust. After a moment she opened her mouth and no sound came out, although it was quite clear why. Her tongue was halfway disintegrated and Ascylla could only imagine what the decay of death was doing to the inside of her body.
Rhys waved his hand and the door to Ascylla's tiny cell opened. He guided the tortured priestess through and smiled at his captivated audience. "A close enough look then? This is how a Necromancer punishes. With death and decay. You see how well it works. I've stopped the process partially through. Some of her insides should be mummified, some won't be. The nervous system I always keep running, however, in the most perfect condition. No feeling is escaped." Hallie stared at nothing through sightless, decayed eyes.
Suddenly, Ascylla felt a new emotion. She felt fury.
The only power he had lay in the terror he commanded at the depravity he could imagine. All of his little toys were just so damn scared of his modifications, of his twisted delights.
She stared at Rhys and raised her head in defiance. "You think to terrify me with fear of your corruption, Necromancer Overlord?" She walked closer to him and the priestess even while he tilted his head, eyes furrowed with curiosity. "What if I'm not fucking scared of corruption?"
With that she did either the most stupid or the most brash thing she'd ever done. She grabbed Hallie's horrible face and stopped and stared at the sight of her decayed visage for a moment. And then she pressed her lips to the partial remains of the girl's mouth.
A thrill went through her in a rush at the feeling. She'd kissed before but nothing ever felt like kissing this partially mummified, hairless, sexless creature. With ever movement sinew and bone brushed against Ascylla's cheek. She raised her hand to stroke the back of Hallie's rotted head in curiosity. There were still bits of smooth skin, but there was the rough feel of exposed muscle and even the smooth bone of skull as well. The priestess seemed to try to writhe away in response but was either too weak or simply too broken to truly resist anything anymore.
Ascylla drew back to stare at Rhys whose eyes were wide in a mixture of astonishment and blatant pleasure. She smiled at him and ran her tongue up the strings of exposed sinew in Hallie's cheek.
"Well, Necromancer? Dominate me then. Hurt me. Make me into a modified shell of a creature. Make me perform for your lecherous necrophilia. But you won't do it against my will. You'll find that you can't slake your thirst for rape on the willing. I dare you, so I hope you're willing to play your game through to the horrible end."
Rhys stared at her and grabbed her wrists roughly in his ice cold grip. For a moment she tensed, if only for the temperature, but then she smirked up at his gaze and drew closer to him. Rhys chuckled and stroked her hair in wondrous affection. "Well, little librarian, I underestimated you. You dig your own grave then. It's time for a nice long bath for you."
Ascylla smiled. "Good, I would rather start before starvation sets in."
Rhys chuckled and steered her out of her cell with an arm wrapped securely around her waist. As a casual afterthought he flicked his wrist behind him so that Hallie started to regenerate. Before they left, Ascylla heard sputtering gasps of breath and pain as the girl's throat and tongue reknitted with magic.
"Out of curiosity do priestesses have the art of necromancy?"
*Rhys POV*
Rhys was caught off guard, if he were being honest. It had been an age before he found someone who didn't react to his fetishes and entertainments with horror or unwilling crying. He had gotten used to taking what he wanted from the unwilling, had gotten used to playing with toys who didn't care for him a bit. And he didn't miss companionship when those toys were forced to obey.
But the girl at his side asked genuine curiosities. Granted, she hadn't studied his decorations very hard and she didn't yet know the entirety of what was in store for her. When the pain set in she would inevitably squirm away and fight but that was in every creature's nature.
Lost in thought, he nearly forgot to answer her question. "It's been known to happen. The black arts are gifted to the faithful. Serve the gods well, sacrifice to them, work in their will, and you will earn rewards. My gods are old and cruel. They do not forgive or forget. They will take their dues and they will give nothing for free. But when they do give..." Rhys closed his eyes and imagined his first rush of necromantic power all over again. It had been a flood of sexual ecstasy, of death and pain. Many called it hell or torture. He called it heaven. "When they do give, it's delightful. It's eternal youth."
Rhys smelled that scent again, stronger this time. Gods, but it pleased him. He opened his eyes and blinked at the little would-be priestess with a sudden burst of realization.
"You are aroused, little trespasser. That's what that scent has been."
She tilted her head curiously. "Scent?"
He inhaled, nostrils flaring a bit. "Yes. I can smell many things. Your flare of anger lingers from before, the tang of adrenaline from an underlying pumping of fear, and all of this time even since you first laid eyes on me there has been this other sweet scent. Arousal. I smell sex from my priestesses when I play with them, of course, but yours is a scent of a different kind."
The little minx still had enough innocence present to blush, no matter her crude display from earlier. Rhys had to chuckle at that. "Does my mutilated little Hallie arouse you? Do you like what I've done with her? The sight of the stitching between her legs and the way she still grows excited with the ghost of feeling I've left where her sex used to be?"
Ascylla started walking again in the direction he'd been leading her and Rhys followed. "You can smell the truth on me. Maybe if you give me the chance I'll show you all about how aroused your toys make me."
Rhys felt something he hadn't felt in a long time at those words. He felt a tremor of real excitement. He practically vibrated with something almost like life when he stopped her at a door.
"Through this door lays your fate." He practically purred the words. Now he just couldn't wait to have her transformed and beneath his power. He couldn't wait to feel her mind brush against his, couldn't wait to have total control and to modify her to his pleasures.
Most of all, he couldn't wait to share all of his twisted delights with someone who might, just might, be able to understand.
Ascylla opened the door and he watched her face while she took in the sight of the vats.
They were not pretty. And they weren't meant to be. They were massive, intimidating sarcophagi filled to the brim with acid. To their sides lay great stone lids that would lock into place while the subject inhaled liquid pain and burned alive to the end of their life. The same acid would reignite their bodies into a reanimation. Many parts of their life didn't survive the change. Acid was far from kind.
Ascylla swallowed and bravely held her head high. Before his eyes, she removed her clothing one piece at a time. Rhys watched while she revealed her breasts first. They were smaller like the rest of her stature, but they were full and the nipples, he noted with delight, were large. He took pleasure in distending the nipples of his toys at times, weighting them until they were permanently stretched. Ascylla's could become something lovely if he wished. She ignored his attentions and continued removing her clothes, showing him her sex as she removed soft leather pants. She sat on the floor to do this and made to stand up afterwards, but...
"Stop." Rhys placed the full weight of command in his voice and watched her look up at him with amusement. She obeyed with that small sensual smirk again.
"Yes, Your Grace?" There was a slight mocking emphasis on the words and Rhys had to smile.
"Spread your legs." She didn't just obey. She lay back and lifted her knees, spreading them wide to make sure he got the fullest view. Rhys' breath quickened. "Use your fingers and spread your pussy open." Again, she didn't just obey. She used both hands with a smile and splayed the lips wide. He noted they were swollen with her arousal and her clit was enlarged. Even with her lips splayed, though, and her arousal blatant her entrance looked so very tight.
For a moment Rhys just studied the girl and she silently lay, unembarrassed, under his attention. Finally, she broke her silence. "Well, Your Grace? Are you pleased?"
He took a breath. "Yes. Get up. I normally have to force my priestesses beneath the stone into the acid. I want you to lower yourself in. I will slide the stone over your head and you will stay there for a good few hours, but I want to watch you submerge yourself willingly before me."
Ascylla approached the acid. She smelled of terror so strong that Rhys was shocked she didn't piss herself with it. But she didn't show a bit of it. She merely climbed onto the side of one of the three great stone sarcophagi and perched on the edge of it, staring at the hissing, viscous fluid inside. She turned to meet his eyes once. "This is going to hurt."
But then she smiled and before Rhys could even open his mouth to answer she flipped herself gracefully inside. She didn't so much as touch the acid beforehand. She went for total submersion instead and Rhys flicked his hand, sealing the stone lid over her. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
He felt her die within minutes and felt her mind stir on the edge of his Necromancer's senses. He undid his robes and let them drop to the floor, leaning back against the wall. The sensual delight of a mind unfurling against his own was a treasure. The feel of a priestess being born under his will was like fire to blood he no longer had. He stroked his cock absently and stood by Ascylla's side the entire transformation.
He was nearly feral with desire by the time he felt her total enslavement finish in his mind.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla had been shocked with the sudden burst of pain of the acid. She had screamed in the liquid and inhaled so much of it that hell unfolded within her body. She had thought she'd known pain before, but she'd been deluded. She hadn't known a thing.
The acid was pain.
But in the midst of it she focused on the thought of Hallie's sex removal. She thought of Rhys' toys. She wanted to play with them and watch the Necromancer's shock as she pushed the bounds of his depravity. And she would. She was determined to see the worst of him, to see him pushed to whatever dark edges even he hadn't yet explored. These thoughts saved her sanity to some degree, the promises of corrupting while in the depths of her own private hell.
Time seemed eternal, though, in the stone vat. Every second was an agonized fury of pain and even death did not bring release. There was a moment where she knew she was dead. She felt the absence of her heart beat, but even so...
Even so she continued to feel and she inhaled the acid. Rhys had called it the liquid fire of the gods and she understood why. She felt bathed in agony and heat, even while there was no fire. Her insides felt as if they were being ripped apart or like hot irons were burning away her intestines and rib cage.
It was an eternity before she acutely felt the stone above her moved away. The great sarcophagus rattled and shook with the effort but even if it had been silent her body would have been very aware of the sudden chance of freedom from the pain. She burst through the surface of the acid and gasped her first breath of air through dead lungs. The effect was stunning. Her body no longer needed anything. The air was a luxury, if one that felt like heaven at the moment. Even though she was still partially submerged she let loose a mad cackle of laughter at the tiniest break from pain she was given. She grabbed the edge of the sarcophagus and lifted, acid clinging to her skin as if it refused to release her from its grip.
In her head, she realized she was not alone.
She felt him. Rhys Loveless, he had called himself, and the gods had deemed him her new master. He was near her now and that thought filled her body with an instant reverence. He was the most loyal servant of her new gods, she realized. She could see why other creatures would turn that feeling into terror of him and his blatant power.
She turned it into desire. Like a daughter who sexually desired the strength of her father to punish her, she desired the strength of the Necromancer who was to be her guidance and teacher, her lord and master. She suddenly understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rhys had earned every last ounce of his massive reserves of power and energy. He had bought and paid for that power.
Ascylla blinked through the acid blinding her and turned her head to where she felt her master. "Your Grace." She meant to say it reverently and with feeling, with desire for him. Instead all that escaped her lips was a raw scraping sound.
She heard a chuckle and realized it was in her head. "Hush now. Your bath is not complete. Besides, I have access to all of your thoughts now, priestess. You can describe your worship of me in due time. First you must clean the acid in the pure black water that harbors death and sin."
Distantly, she felt herself lifted carefully into his arms. She couldn't see enough to notice anything so she merely let herself exist in his arms. She explored his mind instead, brushing her thoughts against his. It was like trying to pull at a locked door, however. He had full access to her and she could feel his presence, but she had no access that he did not allow into himself.
But he could feel her. She thought of her other fantasies of playing with his toys and brushed her mind against his again with the full, vicious force of her desire. A gasp of sex responded against her mind.
This pastime was quickly interrupted, however, when she felt what had to be the waters he described. A sudden burst of ice against the clinging acid crawled up her body as if she'd been laid in the waters.
After a moment she realized this was not exactly the case. Rhys has carried her and waded into the waters with her as well. He held her under, baptizing her in the blackness of hate and death, of pure devastating sexual torment. This had to be the feel of hell, but it was a hell she wanted oh so very badly. She pushed away from Rhys with a burst of hate and rage fueled energy, propelling herself deeper into the waters, bathing herself.
She felt a push back through the waters, felt arms tangle around her and grapple with her. Rhys' mind dominated hers and she felt his excited energy, here in the darkness of purest corruption. He clawed at her skin and she gasped beneath the waters. She felt herself pressed against a floor of soft silt and imagined it to be ground up bones. Likely it was. Rhys gave her affirmation to this against her mind and pressed her harder.
Her sex was icy, but oh so painfully, terribly sensitive when he pressed his cock against her entrance. He did not hesitate, he was not nice. He gave no foreplay. This was not to love or slake his sadism. This was nothing more than to dominate in the midst of terrible excitement. She was forced to accept his thickness and gods, but he was not small. She cried out beneath the waters with thrill and pain, though, and gave herself up to him.
Rhys' mind screamed his triumph and his fingertips searched, lifting her hips, seeking the pleasure button of her clit. His mind howled with power when he found it and she felt fire burst into the point.
The agony was almost as bad as the acid. Ascylla tried to pull away, but then forced herself to reach around and pull Rhys tighter against it. He could hear her thoughts, right?
"That's it Necromancer! Assert your control over me more. You take that away because you want your priestesses to burn in unsated pleasure while you torment them, don't you? You want them brainwashed in confusion while you overload their unsuspecting bodies with pain and they pair it with all that heat and sex, isn't that right? And you want me addicted to your sadism, addicted to the feel of rotting flesh, and horror. Go ahead then. Addict me until I'm a monster with it. Addict me so I'm like you."
The answer was a snarling, feral mind against hers. Rhys punished her with his hard sex, pounding into her and brushing his fingers over the sterilized area that once held a sensitive point of pleasure just to tease her with the fact that she had had her first modification. She didn't give him a thought of horror. She only gave him more desire and need, only fueled him in the circle of control he had started.
He wanted to play? She fucking loved games.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys pulled himself from the pool of the ancient, nameless gods, crawling and gasping on the shore bed of ground bones and glittering black sand. He rolled over onto his back, panting, stunned, and cut by the edge of the double edged sword of his desire.
Ascylla surfaced beside him, crawling weakly and he quivered at the very sight of her. The gods had given her hair on her head, a rarity. It was bone white, a contrast to her gray eyes. Her skin was ghastly pale. Her eyes were shadowed and ghostly in appearance. Her small body, though... That was covered in cuts and bruises from his attentions. He hadn't intended to go so far with the girl, but he hadn't maintained control when she'd challenged and teased him. He'd just lost himself to the desire and the chase instead. It had been so long since he'd had a real priestess to train, one that showed promise of adopting the arts of a Necromancer. So very long.
And he just hadn't been able to stop himself.
"Fuck. Holy fuck." She gasped the words, revitalized and reformed by the waters. But she didn't say it as a curse. She said it in wonder and in desire. And he had felt all of her delight against his mind at every cruel touch he'd given her.
He stood, catching his breath. "Spread your legs," he whispered.
Ascylla arched and moaned just at the simple command. She obeyed immediately and just as she had before. She didn't just spread her legs. She lay on the sand bed and lifted her knees to be sure his view was flawless. And, one step ahead of him, she spread her sex with her hands. "Your Grace." She drew the sound out like a snake purr. "I love obeying your commands. Tell me, does the opening gape a little wider after your use of my cunt? Does it please you like it pleases me when you dominate and I obey, even at the smallest commands? Does it please you seeing how I burn with a need that you will not sate? Is it thrilling thinking how every touch of the dead will be partnered with this torturous pleasure, how even sex will be a kind of torment and hell?"
Rhys moaned. "Oh, wicked priestess, the gods have cursed me with you." But he smiled to let her know that he was pleased, despite the words, and she practically writhed with the joy it gave her.
She stood and drew close to him. "Come. Let's go celebrate my new birthday together in your throne room, Lord Necromancer." Rhys shivered and followed her. He felt strangely at a loss, almost helpless. He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to do in the throne room.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla guided Rhys by the hand and grinned at him mischievously. "Your Grace, I know of allies who would welcome you with open arms. I think you should revitalize the religion of your gods. I will gladly help you."
"Allies?" Rhys tilted his head in interest.
Ascylla nodded, walking towards his throne. "Oh, yes. Darker creatures who worship ancients as you do. Ones who would see the old ways of sacrifice and pain brought back to the pathetic societies that have arisen. Ones who would abolish this new weak rule of civilizations and bring about so much blood and darkness that the sun would set and refuse to rise again."
She stopped beside his throne, staring at the impaled female thralls standing on either side of his throne. She turned away for a moment to meet Rhys' gaze. "The sight of your throne room would make an impression on them that they would love." She grinned at him and then turned her head and lowered it to suck at the nipple of the immobile, impaled thrall. The creature twitched and twitched again at the sensations and the sudden onslaught of pain from moving on the spike that ran her through. Ascylla sought the thrall's pussy with her right hand and buried two fingers inside the entrance, pulling a flurry of response from the creature. She turned her body to meet Rhys' gaze.
The Necromancer's eyes were blood red through and through and his breath was short and quick. He seemed bestial now, a raging fury waiting beneath the surface of his control. Ascylla brushed his mind briefly, searching, and found a maelstrom of dark, burning lust.
She moved away from the impaled twins beside the throne and Rhys followed her with his gaze like a hawk with prey. She moved to what looked like a horse decoration. The female thrall had a leather version of a horse's features stitched into the skin of her face, a harness across her body, and her arms had been removed. But Ascylla's favorite decoration was what Rhys had done to her cunt. He had splayed the lips out and stretched them to unnatural size, sewing them into the thrall's thighs. Ascylla circled the thrall and stared at Rhys again, drawing his gaze. She flicked one of the thrall's sewn pussy lips and then flicked the other cruelly, drawing a sobbing sound from the creature. She stroked the center of her pussy, petting it until cream flowed from it and that she gathered on her fingertips. She met Rhys' gaze in challenge and sucked on her fingertips, licking the cum on them greedily while she stroked the odd indentations where its arms used to be.
Again, she moved on, drawing his eyes with her. He followed at a distance, watching her every movement. The strain in his mind was stronger now, his control cracking. "Why, Your Grace, I rather love your tastes in décor." She stopped at a thrall that was cemented onto a pedestal. The body had been welded down on her hands and knees. Metal bars were positioned against the inner thighs and held up the torso so that the thrall's ass was stuck up and out, the pussy pressed open and ready to be touched and used. The mouth had an open O gag holding it permanently ready as well. She noticed Rhys had removed all of the teeth of this one. It moaned and whimpered when Ascylla approached it. Again, she turned to Rhys and met his gaze with a demonic desire in her eyes and a cruel laughter from her lips. "Look. It's scared of me."
She circled around and bent down to run her tongue up the toy's pussy, sucking its clit into her mouth and delighting in the whimpers that the thrall made.
But the real delight came when she felt Rhys' mental control shatter into a thousand pieces, like a broken mirror reflecting useless bits of restraint as they fell to the floor. He approached her from behind while she continued licking the toy's cunt as if nothing were wrong.
Rhys fisted his hand in her hair painfully, but Ascylla gasped in pleasure at the feel. "Lick its asshole." His voice was a guttural whisper, a harsh snarl of command.
Ascylla grinned while she obeyed, tonguing the smaller hole until it twitched and gaped open with the thrall's forced arousal. Ascylla pulled back, fingering the hole instead to turn to Rhys. "We should fill its holes with thick toy phalluses, Your Grace, so that they gape open. Could you imagine this ass spread open by inches? It would take a while of spreading, but we should try it."
Rhys hissed, baring his teeth like an animal and Ascylla laughed as he pressed her to the floor and straddled her, the fury of his lust making him quiver. "Yes, Necromancer Lord! Come on then, Your Grace. Fuck me. Call your other priestesses. Let me tongue Hallie's sexless slit until she screams in frustration. Let me rub cum on her permanently shaven head. Tell me she sobbed when she realized she would never have hair again. Tell me the humiliation destroyed her and you felt every moment in your head, just as you feel all of my desire. It did, didn't it? And you stroked your cock until you came over and over every time you thought about it, didn't you? Tell me the truth!"
"Yes." He snarled the word, snapping it out, curling his hand around her throat and squeezing even though she no longer drew breath. He seemed only to do it simply for the feel of violence that it gave him. "Oh, yes. All that and more. I still love to stroke her head to remind her. She still hates it, even after centuries. Now, every time I slap where her sex used to be, it's like strings of pleasure vibrating through my chest in place of a heartbeat. Is that what you want to hear, little slut?"
Ascylla grinned in evil satisfaction. "It is. Tell me more, Necromancer. Tell me more while I imagine spreading your corruption and depravity across the lands as a black gift to the old gods. You scorch me with arousal."
Her blood sang with victory when he did. He told her of how he tricked Hallie and the others, of how they had fallen in their innocence. At some point he did as she wished and called the girl. Ascylla laughed cruelly when the little priestess stood before them, shaking in terror. Ascylla gave no mercy. The first thing she did was squeeze Hallie's breasts roughly, staring at Rhys. "She might not have any nerves to torture in her sex, but these nipples still have all kinds of feeling, don't they Hallie?" With that she slapped the girl's tits, one at a time until she whimpered and yelped with each hit.
Rhys circled to the other side of the priestess and chuckled darkly. "Let me show you everything she hates." He pulled a set of needles from a case beside his throne and started with those through the priestess' nipples while Hallie screamed and Ascylla laughed with delight.
Together they tortured the girl until she sobbed in misery.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys lay in his beds, his arm wrapped around his new priestess. Ascylla had proven herself a sadistic little terror. And perhaps for the first time in a long time he felt sated. With every cruel suggestion she had opened herself up to him. But more than that she had not once looked at him with fear or horror. She had accepted every last detail when he told her of how he liked to torture and torment, how he enjoyed the feel of the unwilling, how he enjoyed the feeling of terror when his victims hated his attentions.
But not he knew a new feeling. He knew acceptance. And it felt amazingly wonderful.
Ascylla kissed Rhys' shoulder. "I think your purpose is to spread a revival of the old gods, Your Grace. I think you would make a wonderful Emperor and agent to their ways."
Rhys smiled down at her, stroking her hair. "My precious child, I believe you're correct."
She purred at his endearment. "You are pleased, Your Grace?"
Pleased? "No, Ascylla. Pleased isn't a strong enough word for what I feel with you. You make me elated with joy. It has been too long since I have met someone who might take up the art of Necromancy with me. I beg you to follow my training and teachings. I beg you to bow before my gods. I am the only one of my kind left that will still awaken from slumber. I am lonely, so lonely. I will go and find these vampires and demons you speak of if you will promise to work to one day be my Empress."
Ascylla laid back and arched, moaning. Rhys inhaled the scent of sex again. After this night, he'd never forget the scent of her sex. "Oh, Your Grace, I would love to. Train me and teach me. If I take your side as an Empress, I beg you to sew the crown to my head in a way that will horrify."
Rhys laughed and rolled on top of her. "It's decided then. You will begin studying with me and you will put your entire will into it. If you don't I will punish you, of course. We will find ways to give you incentive." With that Rhys slid inside her and she gasped with pleasure. He smiled wickedly. "I promise, sweet child, I will do my very best to find something that horrifies even you. That's what you want, isn't it? Isn't what would really give you pleasure the force that would be used to torment you?"
Ascylla threw her head back, laughing maniacally. "Good luck, Your Grace." One could either fight the corruption and end up like Hallie.
Or they could spread it and end up an Empress.
Ascylla stared at the mountain entrance. Granted she hadn't spent much time around mountains and was really only putting up with them due to the scripts she found that promised power in the midst of these. But the cave entrance looked like a bad place to go to her. It was a jagged opening in the mountainside with little assurance that the tops wouldn't just decide to crash together on top of her.
However, when she had been asking directions in the town at the bottom of the Torian mountains, the guide had crossed himself and spouted off in a fountain of excitement and terror, forgetting she couldn't understand his language. When he calmed down enough, he resolutely refused to give her any other directions. It had taken three days, at least a dozen tour guide interviews, and all her silver before she finally found one that was willing to give her the directions she wanted. He had still refused to guide her anywhere closer than a mile of the cave entrance.
So, without a guide she had to wonder if she hadn't chosen a wrong way somewhere. But she'd double and triple checked her way through the directions and it really was the only gash in the side of the mountain that looked like some sort of an entrance, even if it looked like a terrible one. She stared at it for a long while, deliberating.
In the end it was the scrolls she had found in the Citadel library that urged her on. She'd spent months deciphering the text only to find the promise of power to reverse death. The fountain of life the texts called it. Eternal youth, health, power, and all the heart could ever wish for if one was brave enough to seek it and pay for it. The Citadel's magic was the greatest in the known Verarian world, it was true. But no one knew the power of eternal life. Not real eternal life. The vampyres, scaled dragon fiends, and other creatures who fed on blood or magic had longevity. But they still weren't truly immortal. They still needed to find their sustenance. They still relied on nourishment and eventually still died.
Besides all that they could still sustain mortal wounds.
But the scripts promised true reversal. Scylla took a breath and stepped through the narrow gash in the mountain. She didn't want to settle for longevity. She wanted to watch the world die. She wanted it all or nothing.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys the Necromancer had been woken from his slumber a few weeks prior. It happened throughout the years. He was never allowed to slumber forever, no matter how long he'd been alive and that was quite a while. Something from his dark gods always aroused him from his dead sleep for some dark purpose. Normally it involved a lot of war, a lot of death, and phenomenal amounts of power.
So far, his purpose had not been revealed to him this time. But that was no matter. He had ways of entertaining himself. Ever the faithful servant, he was patient. And he awaited his signs from the gods. He had all the time in the world, as it were. Until the sun failed to rise and the stars burned into nothing, he would breathe. And even when there was nothing left to breathe and his body obliterated with the world, his soul might well cling to whatever pieces it could find and float forever in a hell of nothingness.
He didn't know. Hadn't considered it. His gods weren't a kind type though. So it wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but if that were his fate then he would accept it gladly.
Besides, he was not bored by any means. When he'd laid himself to rest he had slumbered with all manner of preserved playthings. The first day after he had risen in his throne like tomb in the mountains he had woken his toys and decorated his rooms with them. He had something like a small piece of a castle deep in the caves. There were lakes of acid, the cleansing liquid fire of his gods. There were bedrooms for him. There were iron cells in a dungeon setup and there were rooms with distorted avatars of his black gods. All of these preserved with the same hideous magic that caused Rhys to draw breath.
But his favorite room was a mockery of a throne room. Decorating his throne room was what he'd amused himself with for the past few months. He had gotten creative with his toys to do so.
The creatures he controlled could be divided into two categories. There were the thralls, creatures who he had raised from death and preserved. These he liked to use as decorative furniture, of a sort. This time he'd taken two female thralls and impaled them on stakes on either side of his throne. The lovely thing about reanimated creatures was that they no longer needed their delicate internal organs. After a week or two he had lovingly pierced the two of them through from anus up through their mouths and placed the bottoms of the stakes in holders on either side of the throne. They were much like grotesque little statues now, both brunette. Perhaps in life they had even been twins. He couldn't remember anymore. Now he only knew them as his lovely toys. He affectionately pinched the right nipple of the one on the left of his throne. In answer the body twitched. There was no sound around the stake, but the thrall twitched as if the little movement hurt her and Rhys chuckled.
From there he'd formed many other modifications. The thralls were his and his alone. He had absolute and total control over them. If he commanded one to stillness, they would be magically forced to do so until either the end of time or until he reverted the command. So he'd carved and reshaped his creatures into reanimated artwork. Another of his favorites was one designed to look like a horse. He had amputated her arms and sewn a horse shape around her head. Black leather formed a harness around her torso and emphasized her bare breasts. His favorite part was the sex between her legs, though. Rhys had taken the lips of her sex and spread them apart, stretching them with weights for weeks. And then he had sewn each stretched labia to the insides of her thighs. When she stood, he made her spread her legs wide apart. She still stood like that. When he passed her and pat her mane of hair affectionately tears fell around the sewn horse head. Rhys paused and soothed the toy's hair again.
"Now, now, no tears. What good could do they do you, my sweet?" She couldn't answer, of course. The horse mouth wasn't made to open. She couldn't even move. She only blinked in misery at him and Rhys chuckled. "You'll grow used to your fate. After a century, you won't even remember how it felt to be any different, I promise."
With that he moved on. The thralls were good, but the next category of creature was his favorite.
The priestesses were reanimated as well, but not by him. Oh, he killed them to aid in their creation, but they were ones who swore to serve the gods and therefore belonged to them. For this reason they had a will of sorts. However, Rhys had proven himself the most loyal of zealots and it fell on him to be the master of the priestesses.
He trained them, instructed them, disciplined, taught, and shaped them into servants. His favorite priestess lay sobbing before his grotesque throne.
Her name was Hallie. He had found her two centuries ago as a pretty, innocent teenager. And he had lured her to the necromancy gods with the promise of true eternal youth. Oh, how innocent little Hallie had been then.
She'd stared up at him like he was an angel right up until he introduced her to the acid bath that she would drown in while being reformed in that liquid fire of the gods. The acid had burned away every hair follicle on her body, turning her into the mannequin appearance that was trademark of most necromancer priestesses. After that she had looked on him in fear. But Rhys had been far from finished. He had gone on to remove her clit, like he did with all priestesses. He'd learned ages ago that it was a good way to desecrate and corrupt a little priestess, if used to the correct manipulation. Hallie, of course, had even then still tried to rebel, but she had learned after her fair share of punishment. She'd learned to obey Rhys as her eternal master, just like the other five priestesses he had trained.
Now she lay on the floor before his throne. At first he had taken to using his six girls for entertainment. He had fucked and then commanded them to perform while he watched. But after time, he had gotten bored and wanted something more. He had started with Hallie, his lovely Hallie.
She cringed away from him when he knelt beside her to study his work. Rhys tsked in disapproval and found the pain centers of her body, twisting them a bit in reprimand. Hallie yelped in response, but went still and merely sobbed all the harder when he touched her. "Oh come now, child. You had already been rid of your clit for centuries. My new modification wasn't so much of a stretch from that. Is it the pain, pet?"
Rhys spread the girl's legs and studied what he'd done with growing pleasure. It had taken a bit of surgical work and Rhys never blunted the pain for his subjects. It took a bit more necromancy to keep the nerves feeling, but he preferred his playmates to feel every bit of what he did. When it was done, he wanted them to feel to the depths of their undeath who was their master and who controlled every part of their lives. So Hallie undoubtedly did feel a good deal of pain.
For Rhys had cut pieces of her sex away. They were clean cuts. No blood, of course. Like every other creature in Rhys' caves there was not a drop of blood left in her reanimated body. The skin merely fell away while the child screamed and didn't dare move away or stop him. And after he had cut enough of inner labia, he had sewn the outer labia together. Now there was a neat little line with his stitch work and this he had made look like ribbons crossing where her vaginal opening used to be. For his own purposes he had left a small opening just above her anus, just large enough for the tip of his smallest finger to tease. And he had carefully sewn the very inside edges together so that the sensitive nerves could still be licked and used to ignite pleasure in Hallie, if not satisfying pleasure.
"Beautiful," Rhys breathed. And it was so satisfying to see. Hallie shivered beneath his gaze and Rhys sighed. "Alright, let's see if we can distract you." He mentally reached with his magic to the mind of one of Hallie's sister priestesses. The answer was one of terror, but the antechamber door opened without delay and one called Sarai approached him, quivering from head to foot.
"You called, Your Grace?" Her voice was a soft mouse voice. Another one that Rhys had tricked and forced into obedience. Hairless, like her sister, and broken into submission to him and his gods. Her skin was bone white, her eyes gray with the film of death. Just like Hallie.
Rhys smiled. "I did. Your sister hurts. Why don't you lick her wounds for her?"
Sarai looked down at the favorite priestess and studied the mutilation while Rhys felt the terror in her mind grow with amused pleasure. Her thoughts brushed his mind. If he had done this to his favorite priestess, what might he decide to do to Sarai in his boredom?
Still, though, her terror of disobedience was far stronger than any horror she felt. She knelt between Hallie's legs and Rhys watched as she lowered her head. She hesitated for a slight moment, staring at the delicate stitch work that would permanently close most of Hallie's sex with disgusted fascination. Rhys listened to the thoughts as she forced herself to tenuously lick her tongue up the outer edges of the small slit between stitches.
"Good girl." Rhys sat in his throne, leaning forward and pressing his mind to the pleasure center of Sarai's brain, firing magical sparks through the girl's body. Unwillingly, she gasped with desire. "After all these years, priestess, I believe you know that this will go much easier for you if you just give yourself over to my will and play along. Accept the pleasure."
Still, though, she fought it. She always did. Even while she licked and sucked at what was left of Hallie's sex. Even while Rhys sent signals of pleasure running through her body, she tried to resist.
But Rhys won. In the end, he always did. Soon the priestess' body moved with pure desire. Her hips thrust up and down with need, a dancing motion of sexuality. Rhys stood and circled behind her, stroking the perfectly smooth skin of her head. "That's it. Isn't that much better, then?" Hallie was no longer sobbing. Her hands were fists at her side, her eyes shut tight, her breathing ragged in between harsh pants and moans. "I'm sure if you tongued the opening I've left, she would enjoy it." Sarai immediately and eagerly obeyed, rimming a hole too small for more than just the tip of her tongue. Hallie rubbed her fingertips down the closed slit and writhed in response. Rhys closed his eyes and inhaled the strong scent of desire and sex and cum.
But there was another scent too, one that made his eyes snap open. He bared his teeth for a brief moment, much as an animal would immediately react to something it didn't quite like. But then he grinned.
The scent of life was in his caves and it wouldn't be long before whomever it was reached his very throne room.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla has definitely found what the scripts were referring to. It hadn't been long before the rocky cliff had delved deeper into the mountain and transformed into a great hallway. Wall sconces held torches with bright blue flames and the carpets were rich and luxurious beneath the soles of her feet. The hallways broke off into corridors but Ascylla kept following the hall forward for the time being, fascinated. The place was so pretty for what had once been a jagged cliff overhang. Bloody hell, it was downright gorgeous. And so huge too.
The great hall ended in ornate doors. Ascylla took a moment to stare back the way she had come and thought she saw small flashes of light over the torches. Some small voice in her head whispered for her to turn back. Something was very wrong about all of this.
She ignored it and turned around to shove the hall doors open, expecting to have to struggle. Instead, the doors opened on their own accord before she could even touch them.
Ascylla stared down the appearance of a throne room at a figure that stood watching her. There was movement at the foot of a great throne and statues lined the walkway and stood on either side of the throne.
There was really nothing else for it after she had come so far. Ascylla walked forward.
After so many steps she realized the figure watching her was a man. His features came into relief as she drew nearer. His hair was dark, he had a slight form, his fingers were long and elegant. He was quite handsome actually. He tilted his head curiously even while Ascylla did a mirror movement.
For a while she stopped and just stood before him, staring. Gods, but the man was rather beautiful. The lovely flowing robes he wore were lined with pale blue. She finally made herself wave cautiously. "My name is Ascylla."
The man's face broke into a delightful smile. "Forgive me my manners. It has been a very long time since I've had to use them. I am Rhys Loveless."
Ascylla nodded and finally focused on the figures in front of the throne. Her eyes widened and she gasped.
The two creatures were both naked and completely hairless. Their skin was pale as death. One of them looked up to the sound of her gasp and blinked at her with gray eyes glazed with sex. When her head lifted from between the legs of the other figure, Ascylla got a full view of a nearly sexless creature. The first of them whimpered.
Behind her the man tsked. "Did I say to stop?" The creature moaned as if in pain and went back to licking between the legs of the other. Ascylla watched in twisted fascination. The other girl, if you could call her that, couldn't possibly feel much of anything between her legs but she seemed to writhe all the same.
She spun around to the man who still watched her with a calm smile. "Necromancer! That's what the fucking scrolls were talking about? You - you -" She backed away and backed right into something solid and cold. Shivering, she turned and realized it was one of the things she had previously thought to be statues. Except the gray, dead eyes moved and watched her as if pleading for help. And Scylla could guess why. The creature had been disfigured. It had no arms or legs anymore and was held up by two poles with a phallus on the ends inserted into the sex and anus of the torso. Its mouth was held open with an odd shaped gag but it had no tongue. Scylla felt herself shiver.
A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned slowly to face the Necromancer who touched her with ice cold hands. Rhys smiled down at her. "The scrolls? You mean the scripts from several hundred years ago that promise of true eternal youth, yes?" He chuckled under his breath. "I might have guessed those would resurface. So you're a little librarian then. And you decided you would come to the darkest depth of the mountains despite all the warnings and pursue eternal life? Well, little girl. I'm pleased to hear it. I will give you exactly the reward your efforts have earned."
She barely managed to shout a "No!" before the world started to go dark and the Necromancer caught her with a wide smile.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys watched his new little guest with interest and indecision. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. He had no food that would sustain a living guest, except perhaps maggots. So that left three choices. Kill her and leave her dead, kill her and raise her as a thrall, or kill her and raise her in the honor of a priestess.
At the moment he was leaning towards the latter. It had been so very long since he'd broken a new priestess. And this girl, Ascylla, was rather to his liking. She had a small figure, lovely blond hair, a cute little nose. She looked the picture of an innocent librarian really. And he did love getting to watch the horror of the innocent when he started on them.
Hallie stood silently by his side while he watched. At last the girl stirred in her dungeon cell and Rhys watched her awaken, smiling slightly to himself.
She cried out when she realized she wasn't in her home and memory came back to her. He watched it wash over her face with interest. The dawning realization like a face full of ice water, followed by the inevitable terror. Her eyes turned to Hallie by his side and wandered to stare between the girl's legs. Some expression he couldn't quite identify crossed her gaze, some excited emotion. A different kind of fear perhaps?
"Well, good evening, lovely trespasser."
She snapped her gaze back to Rhys' and he smiled. "It's alright. You can admire my little slaves. I rather like to myself." To emphasize he turned slightly and slapped where Hallie's pussy used to be, pulling a soft groan from her. The girl in the cell stared at his hand even after he withdrew.
She swallowed. "Are you going to kill me?"
Rhys studied his nails. "Oh, certainly. I was just deciding how to kill you and what to turn you into. Maybe I'll leave it to you. Would you rather stay dead, be a thrall, or be a priestess?"
Her gaze flickered to Hallie again. "A priestess like her?"
"Yes." Rhys watched her. That other emotion crossed her eyes again and what was more, she smelled... odd. There was something more than just terror in that smell, a thick sweet scent that his body seemed to enjoy. "Would you like to know exactly what will happen to you?" She stared at him, unable to answer, but that was quite alright. Rhys understood the meaning in the gaze. She both did and didn't want to know what horrors awaited her. So he decided for her. "I'm going to take you to a chamber with the vats of liquid fire of the gods. You will die by drowning in their fire and you will be reborn in the same fire. After, you will be bathed again in a small lake of sorts. I cannot describe what happens there, for words are not justice. It must be experienced. You will come back with your new appearance. Most often the gods maintain the standard hairless creature you've seen so far in the priestesses. Sometimes they differ. When you return you will be given to my care for training and worship in the black arts of death. I will burn your clit away with necromancy like I do all my priestesses and you will learn the purpose of that with reinforcement. You will learn to obey. Perhaps you will fight me in the beginning. Many do, but they learn."
"With what kind of punishment?" Ascylla finally spoke in a breathless fear.
Rhys stood. "Come here, Hallie. Let's demonstrate for our guest."
At that the priestess burst into a sob. "No, Your Grace, please! Please, I've done nothing wrong! I've obeyed through all the modifications!"
"I'm waiting, Hallie."
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla stared. The priestess seemed in a state of real petrified horror. She quivered all over. And Ascylla would like to imagine that the only emotion she felt in the midst of the nightmare of the Necromancer Lord's kingdom was horror and fear. But there was so much fascination there too. Rhys' imagination was pure wicked and he had an odd little sadistic smile at the sight of his priestess' distress. The smile widened as the terror of displeasing him won over the terror of what he demanded of her. She stepped to his outstretched arms and Rhys guided her to the front of Ascylla's cage. He looked up and met her gaze. "Attend, little trespasser. You will learn to appreciate that word from my lips. It is the first command you will learn. It means to observe."
Hallie shrieked and Ascylla couldn't have turned her gaze away even if she wanted to. Hallie's face grew mottled, the lips turned gray, and the skin seemed to turn to dust. After a moment she opened her mouth and no sound came out, although it was quite clear why. Her tongue was halfway disintegrated and Ascylla could only imagine what the decay of death was doing to the inside of her body.
Rhys waved his hand and the door to Ascylla's tiny cell opened. He guided the tortured priestess through and smiled at his captivated audience. "A close enough look then? This is how a Necromancer punishes. With death and decay. You see how well it works. I've stopped the process partially through. Some of her insides should be mummified, some won't be. The nervous system I always keep running, however, in the most perfect condition. No feeling is escaped." Hallie stared at nothing through sightless, decayed eyes.
Suddenly, Ascylla felt a new emotion. She felt fury.
The only power he had lay in the terror he commanded at the depravity he could imagine. All of his little toys were just so damn scared of his modifications, of his twisted delights.
She stared at Rhys and raised her head in defiance. "You think to terrify me with fear of your corruption, Necromancer Overlord?" She walked closer to him and the priestess even while he tilted his head, eyes furrowed with curiosity. "What if I'm not fucking scared of corruption?"
With that she did either the most stupid or the most brash thing she'd ever done. She grabbed Hallie's horrible face and stopped and stared at the sight of her decayed visage for a moment. And then she pressed her lips to the partial remains of the girl's mouth.
A thrill went through her in a rush at the feeling. She'd kissed before but nothing ever felt like kissing this partially mummified, hairless, sexless creature. With ever movement sinew and bone brushed against Ascylla's cheek. She raised her hand to stroke the back of Hallie's rotted head in curiosity. There were still bits of smooth skin, but there was the rough feel of exposed muscle and even the smooth bone of skull as well. The priestess seemed to try to writhe away in response but was either too weak or simply too broken to truly resist anything anymore.
Ascylla drew back to stare at Rhys whose eyes were wide in a mixture of astonishment and blatant pleasure. She smiled at him and ran her tongue up the strings of exposed sinew in Hallie's cheek.
"Well, Necromancer? Dominate me then. Hurt me. Make me into a modified shell of a creature. Make me perform for your lecherous necrophilia. But you won't do it against my will. You'll find that you can't slake your thirst for rape on the willing. I dare you, so I hope you're willing to play your game through to the horrible end."
Rhys stared at her and grabbed her wrists roughly in his ice cold grip. For a moment she tensed, if only for the temperature, but then she smirked up at his gaze and drew closer to him. Rhys chuckled and stroked her hair in wondrous affection. "Well, little librarian, I underestimated you. You dig your own grave then. It's time for a nice long bath for you."
Ascylla smiled. "Good, I would rather start before starvation sets in."
Rhys chuckled and steered her out of her cell with an arm wrapped securely around her waist. As a casual afterthought he flicked his wrist behind him so that Hallie started to regenerate. Before they left, Ascylla heard sputtering gasps of breath and pain as the girl's throat and tongue reknitted with magic.
"Out of curiosity do priestesses have the art of necromancy?"
*Rhys POV*
Rhys was caught off guard, if he were being honest. It had been an age before he found someone who didn't react to his fetishes and entertainments with horror or unwilling crying. He had gotten used to taking what he wanted from the unwilling, had gotten used to playing with toys who didn't care for him a bit. And he didn't miss companionship when those toys were forced to obey.
But the girl at his side asked genuine curiosities. Granted, she hadn't studied his decorations very hard and she didn't yet know the entirety of what was in store for her. When the pain set in she would inevitably squirm away and fight but that was in every creature's nature.
Lost in thought, he nearly forgot to answer her question. "It's been known to happen. The black arts are gifted to the faithful. Serve the gods well, sacrifice to them, work in their will, and you will earn rewards. My gods are old and cruel. They do not forgive or forget. They will take their dues and they will give nothing for free. But when they do give..." Rhys closed his eyes and imagined his first rush of necromantic power all over again. It had been a flood of sexual ecstasy, of death and pain. Many called it hell or torture. He called it heaven. "When they do give, it's delightful. It's eternal youth."
Rhys smelled that scent again, stronger this time. Gods, but it pleased him. He opened his eyes and blinked at the little would-be priestess with a sudden burst of realization.
"You are aroused, little trespasser. That's what that scent has been."
She tilted her head curiously. "Scent?"
He inhaled, nostrils flaring a bit. "Yes. I can smell many things. Your flare of anger lingers from before, the tang of adrenaline from an underlying pumping of fear, and all of this time even since you first laid eyes on me there has been this other sweet scent. Arousal. I smell sex from my priestesses when I play with them, of course, but yours is a scent of a different kind."
The little minx still had enough innocence present to blush, no matter her crude display from earlier. Rhys had to chuckle at that. "Does my mutilated little Hallie arouse you? Do you like what I've done with her? The sight of the stitching between her legs and the way she still grows excited with the ghost of feeling I've left where her sex used to be?"
Ascylla started walking again in the direction he'd been leading her and Rhys followed. "You can smell the truth on me. Maybe if you give me the chance I'll show you all about how aroused your toys make me."
Rhys felt something he hadn't felt in a long time at those words. He felt a tremor of real excitement. He practically vibrated with something almost like life when he stopped her at a door.
"Through this door lays your fate." He practically purred the words. Now he just couldn't wait to have her transformed and beneath his power. He couldn't wait to feel her mind brush against his, couldn't wait to have total control and to modify her to his pleasures.
Most of all, he couldn't wait to share all of his twisted delights with someone who might, just might, be able to understand.
Ascylla opened the door and he watched her face while she took in the sight of the vats.
They were not pretty. And they weren't meant to be. They were massive, intimidating sarcophagi filled to the brim with acid. To their sides lay great stone lids that would lock into place while the subject inhaled liquid pain and burned alive to the end of their life. The same acid would reignite their bodies into a reanimation. Many parts of their life didn't survive the change. Acid was far from kind.
Ascylla swallowed and bravely held her head high. Before his eyes, she removed her clothing one piece at a time. Rhys watched while she revealed her breasts first. They were smaller like the rest of her stature, but they were full and the nipples, he noted with delight, were large. He took pleasure in distending the nipples of his toys at times, weighting them until they were permanently stretched. Ascylla's could become something lovely if he wished. She ignored his attentions and continued removing her clothes, showing him her sex as she removed soft leather pants. She sat on the floor to do this and made to stand up afterwards, but...
"Stop." Rhys placed the full weight of command in his voice and watched her look up at him with amusement. She obeyed with that small sensual smirk again.
"Yes, Your Grace?" There was a slight mocking emphasis on the words and Rhys had to smile.
"Spread your legs." She didn't just obey. She lay back and lifted her knees, spreading them wide to make sure he got the fullest view. Rhys' breath quickened. "Use your fingers and spread your pussy open." Again, she didn't just obey. She used both hands with a smile and splayed the lips wide. He noted they were swollen with her arousal and her clit was enlarged. Even with her lips splayed, though, and her arousal blatant her entrance looked so very tight.
For a moment Rhys just studied the girl and she silently lay, unembarrassed, under his attention. Finally, she broke her silence. "Well, Your Grace? Are you pleased?"
He took a breath. "Yes. Get up. I normally have to force my priestesses beneath the stone into the acid. I want you to lower yourself in. I will slide the stone over your head and you will stay there for a good few hours, but I want to watch you submerge yourself willingly before me."
Ascylla approached the acid. She smelled of terror so strong that Rhys was shocked she didn't piss herself with it. But she didn't show a bit of it. She merely climbed onto the side of one of the three great stone sarcophagi and perched on the edge of it, staring at the hissing, viscous fluid inside. She turned to meet his eyes once. "This is going to hurt."
But then she smiled and before Rhys could even open his mouth to answer she flipped herself gracefully inside. She didn't so much as touch the acid beforehand. She went for total submersion instead and Rhys flicked his hand, sealing the stone lid over her. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
He felt her die within minutes and felt her mind stir on the edge of his Necromancer's senses. He undid his robes and let them drop to the floor, leaning back against the wall. The sensual delight of a mind unfurling against his own was a treasure. The feel of a priestess being born under his will was like fire to blood he no longer had. He stroked his cock absently and stood by Ascylla's side the entire transformation.
He was nearly feral with desire by the time he felt her total enslavement finish in his mind.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla had been shocked with the sudden burst of pain of the acid. She had screamed in the liquid and inhaled so much of it that hell unfolded within her body. She had thought she'd known pain before, but she'd been deluded. She hadn't known a thing.
The acid was pain.
But in the midst of it she focused on the thought of Hallie's sex removal. She thought of Rhys' toys. She wanted to play with them and watch the Necromancer's shock as she pushed the bounds of his depravity. And she would. She was determined to see the worst of him, to see him pushed to whatever dark edges even he hadn't yet explored. These thoughts saved her sanity to some degree, the promises of corrupting while in the depths of her own private hell.
Time seemed eternal, though, in the stone vat. Every second was an agonized fury of pain and even death did not bring release. There was a moment where she knew she was dead. She felt the absence of her heart beat, but even so...
Even so she continued to feel and she inhaled the acid. Rhys had called it the liquid fire of the gods and she understood why. She felt bathed in agony and heat, even while there was no fire. Her insides felt as if they were being ripped apart or like hot irons were burning away her intestines and rib cage.
It was an eternity before she acutely felt the stone above her moved away. The great sarcophagus rattled and shook with the effort but even if it had been silent her body would have been very aware of the sudden chance of freedom from the pain. She burst through the surface of the acid and gasped her first breath of air through dead lungs. The effect was stunning. Her body no longer needed anything. The air was a luxury, if one that felt like heaven at the moment. Even though she was still partially submerged she let loose a mad cackle of laughter at the tiniest break from pain she was given. She grabbed the edge of the sarcophagus and lifted, acid clinging to her skin as if it refused to release her from its grip.
In her head, she realized she was not alone.
She felt him. Rhys Loveless, he had called himself, and the gods had deemed him her new master. He was near her now and that thought filled her body with an instant reverence. He was the most loyal servant of her new gods, she realized. She could see why other creatures would turn that feeling into terror of him and his blatant power.
She turned it into desire. Like a daughter who sexually desired the strength of her father to punish her, she desired the strength of the Necromancer who was to be her guidance and teacher, her lord and master. She suddenly understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rhys had earned every last ounce of his massive reserves of power and energy. He had bought and paid for that power.
Ascylla blinked through the acid blinding her and turned her head to where she felt her master. "Your Grace." She meant to say it reverently and with feeling, with desire for him. Instead all that escaped her lips was a raw scraping sound.
She heard a chuckle and realized it was in her head. "Hush now. Your bath is not complete. Besides, I have access to all of your thoughts now, priestess. You can describe your worship of me in due time. First you must clean the acid in the pure black water that harbors death and sin."
Distantly, she felt herself lifted carefully into his arms. She couldn't see enough to notice anything so she merely let herself exist in his arms. She explored his mind instead, brushing her thoughts against his. It was like trying to pull at a locked door, however. He had full access to her and she could feel his presence, but she had no access that he did not allow into himself.
But he could feel her. She thought of her other fantasies of playing with his toys and brushed her mind against his again with the full, vicious force of her desire. A gasp of sex responded against her mind.
This pastime was quickly interrupted, however, when she felt what had to be the waters he described. A sudden burst of ice against the clinging acid crawled up her body as if she'd been laid in the waters.
After a moment she realized this was not exactly the case. Rhys has carried her and waded into the waters with her as well. He held her under, baptizing her in the blackness of hate and death, of pure devastating sexual torment. This had to be the feel of hell, but it was a hell she wanted oh so very badly. She pushed away from Rhys with a burst of hate and rage fueled energy, propelling herself deeper into the waters, bathing herself.
She felt a push back through the waters, felt arms tangle around her and grapple with her. Rhys' mind dominated hers and she felt his excited energy, here in the darkness of purest corruption. He clawed at her skin and she gasped beneath the waters. She felt herself pressed against a floor of soft silt and imagined it to be ground up bones. Likely it was. Rhys gave her affirmation to this against her mind and pressed her harder.
Her sex was icy, but oh so painfully, terribly sensitive when he pressed his cock against her entrance. He did not hesitate, he was not nice. He gave no foreplay. This was not to love or slake his sadism. This was nothing more than to dominate in the midst of terrible excitement. She was forced to accept his thickness and gods, but he was not small. She cried out beneath the waters with thrill and pain, though, and gave herself up to him.
Rhys' mind screamed his triumph and his fingertips searched, lifting her hips, seeking the pleasure button of her clit. His mind howled with power when he found it and she felt fire burst into the point.
The agony was almost as bad as the acid. Ascylla tried to pull away, but then forced herself to reach around and pull Rhys tighter against it. He could hear her thoughts, right?
"That's it Necromancer! Assert your control over me more. You take that away because you want your priestesses to burn in unsated pleasure while you torment them, don't you? You want them brainwashed in confusion while you overload their unsuspecting bodies with pain and they pair it with all that heat and sex, isn't that right? And you want me addicted to your sadism, addicted to the feel of rotting flesh, and horror. Go ahead then. Addict me until I'm a monster with it. Addict me so I'm like you."
The answer was a snarling, feral mind against hers. Rhys punished her with his hard sex, pounding into her and brushing his fingers over the sterilized area that once held a sensitive point of pleasure just to tease her with the fact that she had had her first modification. She didn't give him a thought of horror. She only gave him more desire and need, only fueled him in the circle of control he had started.
He wanted to play? She fucking loved games.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys pulled himself from the pool of the ancient, nameless gods, crawling and gasping on the shore bed of ground bones and glittering black sand. He rolled over onto his back, panting, stunned, and cut by the edge of the double edged sword of his desire.
Ascylla surfaced beside him, crawling weakly and he quivered at the very sight of her. The gods had given her hair on her head, a rarity. It was bone white, a contrast to her gray eyes. Her skin was ghastly pale. Her eyes were shadowed and ghostly in appearance. Her small body, though... That was covered in cuts and bruises from his attentions. He hadn't intended to go so far with the girl, but he hadn't maintained control when she'd challenged and teased him. He'd just lost himself to the desire and the chase instead. It had been so long since he'd had a real priestess to train, one that showed promise of adopting the arts of a Necromancer. So very long.
And he just hadn't been able to stop himself.
"Fuck. Holy fuck." She gasped the words, revitalized and reformed by the waters. But she didn't say it as a curse. She said it in wonder and in desire. And he had felt all of her delight against his mind at every cruel touch he'd given her.
He stood, catching his breath. "Spread your legs," he whispered.
Ascylla arched and moaned just at the simple command. She obeyed immediately and just as she had before. She didn't just spread her legs. She lay on the sand bed and lifted her knees to be sure his view was flawless. And, one step ahead of him, she spread her sex with her hands. "Your Grace." She drew the sound out like a snake purr. "I love obeying your commands. Tell me, does the opening gape a little wider after your use of my cunt? Does it please you like it pleases me when you dominate and I obey, even at the smallest commands? Does it please you seeing how I burn with a need that you will not sate? Is it thrilling thinking how every touch of the dead will be partnered with this torturous pleasure, how even sex will be a kind of torment and hell?"
Rhys moaned. "Oh, wicked priestess, the gods have cursed me with you." But he smiled to let her know that he was pleased, despite the words, and she practically writhed with the joy it gave her.
She stood and drew close to him. "Come. Let's go celebrate my new birthday together in your throne room, Lord Necromancer." Rhys shivered and followed her. He felt strangely at a loss, almost helpless. He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to do in the throne room.
*Ascylla POV*
Ascylla guided Rhys by the hand and grinned at him mischievously. "Your Grace, I know of allies who would welcome you with open arms. I think you should revitalize the religion of your gods. I will gladly help you."
"Allies?" Rhys tilted his head in interest.
Ascylla nodded, walking towards his throne. "Oh, yes. Darker creatures who worship ancients as you do. Ones who would see the old ways of sacrifice and pain brought back to the pathetic societies that have arisen. Ones who would abolish this new weak rule of civilizations and bring about so much blood and darkness that the sun would set and refuse to rise again."
She stopped beside his throne, staring at the impaled female thralls standing on either side of his throne. She turned away for a moment to meet Rhys' gaze. "The sight of your throne room would make an impression on them that they would love." She grinned at him and then turned her head and lowered it to suck at the nipple of the immobile, impaled thrall. The creature twitched and twitched again at the sensations and the sudden onslaught of pain from moving on the spike that ran her through. Ascylla sought the thrall's pussy with her right hand and buried two fingers inside the entrance, pulling a flurry of response from the creature. She turned her body to meet Rhys' gaze.
The Necromancer's eyes were blood red through and through and his breath was short and quick. He seemed bestial now, a raging fury waiting beneath the surface of his control. Ascylla brushed his mind briefly, searching, and found a maelstrom of dark, burning lust.
She moved away from the impaled twins beside the throne and Rhys followed her with his gaze like a hawk with prey. She moved to what looked like a horse decoration. The female thrall had a leather version of a horse's features stitched into the skin of her face, a harness across her body, and her arms had been removed. But Ascylla's favorite decoration was what Rhys had done to her cunt. He had splayed the lips out and stretched them to unnatural size, sewing them into the thrall's thighs. Ascylla circled the thrall and stared at Rhys again, drawing his gaze. She flicked one of the thrall's sewn pussy lips and then flicked the other cruelly, drawing a sobbing sound from the creature. She stroked the center of her pussy, petting it until cream flowed from it and that she gathered on her fingertips. She met Rhys' gaze in challenge and sucked on her fingertips, licking the cum on them greedily while she stroked the odd indentations where its arms used to be.
Again, she moved on, drawing his eyes with her. He followed at a distance, watching her every movement. The strain in his mind was stronger now, his control cracking. "Why, Your Grace, I rather love your tastes in décor." She stopped at a thrall that was cemented onto a pedestal. The body had been welded down on her hands and knees. Metal bars were positioned against the inner thighs and held up the torso so that the thrall's ass was stuck up and out, the pussy pressed open and ready to be touched and used. The mouth had an open O gag holding it permanently ready as well. She noticed Rhys had removed all of the teeth of this one. It moaned and whimpered when Ascylla approached it. Again, she turned to Rhys and met his gaze with a demonic desire in her eyes and a cruel laughter from her lips. "Look. It's scared of me."
She circled around and bent down to run her tongue up the toy's pussy, sucking its clit into her mouth and delighting in the whimpers that the thrall made.
But the real delight came when she felt Rhys' mental control shatter into a thousand pieces, like a broken mirror reflecting useless bits of restraint as they fell to the floor. He approached her from behind while she continued licking the toy's cunt as if nothing were wrong.
Rhys fisted his hand in her hair painfully, but Ascylla gasped in pleasure at the feel. "Lick its asshole." His voice was a guttural whisper, a harsh snarl of command.
Ascylla grinned while she obeyed, tonguing the smaller hole until it twitched and gaped open with the thrall's forced arousal. Ascylla pulled back, fingering the hole instead to turn to Rhys. "We should fill its holes with thick toy phalluses, Your Grace, so that they gape open. Could you imagine this ass spread open by inches? It would take a while of spreading, but we should try it."
Rhys hissed, baring his teeth like an animal and Ascylla laughed as he pressed her to the floor and straddled her, the fury of his lust making him quiver. "Yes, Necromancer Lord! Come on then, Your Grace. Fuck me. Call your other priestesses. Let me tongue Hallie's sexless slit until she screams in frustration. Let me rub cum on her permanently shaven head. Tell me she sobbed when she realized she would never have hair again. Tell me the humiliation destroyed her and you felt every moment in your head, just as you feel all of my desire. It did, didn't it? And you stroked your cock until you came over and over every time you thought about it, didn't you? Tell me the truth!"
"Yes." He snarled the word, snapping it out, curling his hand around her throat and squeezing even though she no longer drew breath. He seemed only to do it simply for the feel of violence that it gave him. "Oh, yes. All that and more. I still love to stroke her head to remind her. She still hates it, even after centuries. Now, every time I slap where her sex used to be, it's like strings of pleasure vibrating through my chest in place of a heartbeat. Is that what you want to hear, little slut?"
Ascylla grinned in evil satisfaction. "It is. Tell me more, Necromancer. Tell me more while I imagine spreading your corruption and depravity across the lands as a black gift to the old gods. You scorch me with arousal."
Her blood sang with victory when he did. He told her of how he tricked Hallie and the others, of how they had fallen in their innocence. At some point he did as she wished and called the girl. Ascylla laughed cruelly when the little priestess stood before them, shaking in terror. Ascylla gave no mercy. The first thing she did was squeeze Hallie's breasts roughly, staring at Rhys. "She might not have any nerves to torture in her sex, but these nipples still have all kinds of feeling, don't they Hallie?" With that she slapped the girl's tits, one at a time until she whimpered and yelped with each hit.
Rhys circled to the other side of the priestess and chuckled darkly. "Let me show you everything she hates." He pulled a set of needles from a case beside his throne and started with those through the priestess' nipples while Hallie screamed and Ascylla laughed with delight.
Together they tortured the girl until she sobbed in misery.
*Rhys POV*
Rhys lay in his beds, his arm wrapped around his new priestess. Ascylla had proven herself a sadistic little terror. And perhaps for the first time in a long time he felt sated. With every cruel suggestion she had opened herself up to him. But more than that she had not once looked at him with fear or horror. She had accepted every last detail when he told her of how he liked to torture and torment, how he enjoyed the feel of the unwilling, how he enjoyed the feeling of terror when his victims hated his attentions.
But not he knew a new feeling. He knew acceptance. And it felt amazingly wonderful.
Ascylla kissed Rhys' shoulder. "I think your purpose is to spread a revival of the old gods, Your Grace. I think you would make a wonderful Emperor and agent to their ways."
Rhys smiled down at her, stroking her hair. "My precious child, I believe you're correct."
She purred at his endearment. "You are pleased, Your Grace?"
Pleased? "No, Ascylla. Pleased isn't a strong enough word for what I feel with you. You make me elated with joy. It has been too long since I have met someone who might take up the art of Necromancy with me. I beg you to follow my training and teachings. I beg you to bow before my gods. I am the only one of my kind left that will still awaken from slumber. I am lonely, so lonely. I will go and find these vampires and demons you speak of if you will promise to work to one day be my Empress."
Ascylla laid back and arched, moaning. Rhys inhaled the scent of sex again. After this night, he'd never forget the scent of her sex. "Oh, Your Grace, I would love to. Train me and teach me. If I take your side as an Empress, I beg you to sew the crown to my head in a way that will horrify."
Rhys laughed and rolled on top of her. "It's decided then. You will begin studying with me and you will put your entire will into it. If you don't I will punish you, of course. We will find ways to give you incentive." With that Rhys slid inside her and she gasped with pleasure. He smiled wickedly. "I promise, sweet child, I will do my very best to find something that horrifies even you. That's what you want, isn't it? Isn't what would really give you pleasure the force that would be used to torment you?"
Ascylla threw her head back, laughing maniacally. "Good luck, Your Grace." One could either fight the corruption and end up like Hallie.
Or they could spread it and end up an Empress.