[b][u][center]A Study of Connections Part 13 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] They waited until the next morning to go to the Vault. Tristan said that it was so that they could go in with clear heads, and he was probably right, but at the same time, Hazel was sure that it was more to give her a chance to change her mind about doing this in the first place. Despite being sure that this was the right course of action, she agreed with him, going back to her chambers and lying in her bed. Everything felt wrong. Her body was no longer her own. Then again, it hadn’t been since the events at the Arcanamirium. Ever since Melchiresa had changed her the first time, ever since the priests hadn’t been able to purge the last of her corruption down there, she’d been fighting against the Demon Lord and her power over her. The half-elf didn’t know how to get past it, but she knew that the Demon Lord was more likely to lie to them than tell the truth. [i]Even if Vakrozad trusts her…[/i] She sighed, rolling onto her side as she curled up into a little ball. The feeling of her blankets against her bare feet – feet? Were they feet any longer? They were more like paws, she supposed, particularly with that crick in them and the way that she had to walk on her tiptoes and the balls of her feet now – the feeling of the blanket against her bare paws felt so strange, so soft on the pads and so not-there against the furred toes. The difference in sensation was hard to accommodate herself to. But her thoughts still went hither and yon, and in this case, they went back to the warchief. She remembered how he’d stared at her when she’d been completely nude. She remembered how he’d looked at her wantingly, and she remembered how Melchiresa had looked at him. There had been a plan there, something to shift her into his arms. Hazel growled, the sound coming through almost like a canine through her throat, echoing deep in her chest before she stifled it. Quite aside from not wanting to sound like a dog, she didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts for long. She was saving herself for Vitus, not for Vakrozad. She’d already let him have her ass, and that was more than enough. Even if she was curious about – No, she wasn’t curious. That was the corruption. She had no interest in the warchief outside of the companionship that he offered. She didn’t want to experiment with a were-boar dick inside of her. No. She didn’t. She didn’t. She did [i]not[/i] want to do that. Her body, on the other hand, was more interested than it should have been. Her pussy was a drenched mess, and her asshole was clenching again and again, remembering how good that stiff prick had felt back there, how much he had cum, how long she’d been in washing it off. That was good stuff. It didn’t need to be bad, did it? She groaned, rolling onto her other side. She shivered as she felt the need between her legs rising, and she gripped for Aster’s amulet again. The feeling of it against her hand was the only thing that was keeping her from reaching down and touching herself, and she needed to hold off for now. The ritual that ran through the temple, the need that it raised in all and sundry, was beyond anything that she could handle on her own now. [i]Hate this…hate this…[/i] Her thoughts didn’t reflect her body’s needs, though, and she could feel the wetness running between her thighs, soaking her bed, and soaking her. She gritted her teeth, clenching her thighs together and burying her face in her pillow. [i]Sleep…sleep…[/i] Telling herself that didn’t make it happen. It was a long night, a very long and wet night indeed. # The next morning, she pulled herself out of bed with her hair haggard and her body drenched in sweat. She felt like she stank, but the smell of her body wasn’t that bad to her nose. She hoped that wasn’t another sign of the corruption progressing, but had a horrible feeling that it meant exactly that. Hazel dragged herself from her bed, going to her closet and pulling down one of her other gown-robes. It was just long enough that it should hide her paws from the general view of the public, as long as she didn’t take long strides. As for the rest of her changes, she’d just have to hope that nobody smelled anything, or paid too close attention to the way that she was looking around and shifting about. It was going to be a hard day, but she needed to get this done. [i]If I can just see the book prove her right…[/i] If that was the case, then she would have something to try. If she could just see how to get to the Primal Point, then she could talk to her captive god. Then she could speak to Erastil directly, have him fix her. And then they could work on fixing everything else. [i]If she wasn’t lying…and if she is, then we’ll know how we’re supposed to make this work.[/i] She refused to take the word of a Demon Lord on faith. That was the worst idea in the world, the worst possible way forward. She had to have more than that. She needed the book to confirm what they were doing was the right thing. And…and… She gripped the amulet, feeling it bring the worst of the heat between her legs down. That, and take a bit of the shame away. If she could walk with confidence, then there was no need for the world to stare at her. Yes. Yes. That would work. That would work. Calming herself enough to get dressed, she collected her thoughts, took a deep breath, and then left her room. She hoped that Aster didn’t notice her absence at the bath until it was too late. If that woman came looking for them, then they were in deep trouble. It should be fine, though. Should be. # Tristan was just in the process of walking away from the Vault when she spotted him. Their eyes met, and she could tell that he had been hoping that she wouldn’t show up. He’d have left, saying that she wasn’t there, and then they would have pushed it off again and again until she was forced to go along with the plan as it was. She shook her head at him as she approached. “Bad bitch,” she muttered. Almost instantly, Tristan’s eyes went wide, and he actually let out a whimper that was surprisingly canine in sound. Both of them blinked in surprise at that, and Hazel looked down just a bit. Sure enough, there was a slight bulge down there, something that twitched as she looked at it. The half-elf shook her head, bringing her eyes back up and pretending that she hadn’t seen it. Not that hard, considering how small it was, but still something that she hadn’t expected to see from a simple phrase. [i]He still hasn’t purged the corruption from earlier, then,[/i] she realized. [i]He’s still weak against it.[/i] They’d have to do this quickly, then, and she’d have to watch how she talked. She nodded at the Vault door. “Shall we?” “I guess so…” “You still don’t think we should.” “I think that you’re being over-cautious.” “Me?” “Yes, you. We have…other information now. Why do you need this?” “Forgive me if I’m not that willing to believe a Demon Lord that fucked me and many other people over. I didn’t grow up being taught to trust her, and I’m surprised that you’re willing. You’re the high priest, for crying out loud.” “I think that she was telling the truth. It lines up too well with all the other things that we’ve discovered. The fact that she and Erastil were two parts of the same person at one time explains too much to be coincidence.” “Yes, well, she’s still a demon.” A demon that knew all too well how to be tempting and teasing. The show that the Demon Lord had put on with her body last night reminded her of all the horrible things that had been done to her and Vitus back at the Arcanamirium. It reminded her of all the things that she had half-forgotten in all the time that she’d spent away, in the isolation of academic fascination. She had forgotten that she was talking about a demon rather than a spirit, and now, she had been given a reminder. Even with that, though, she could feel the clenching going on down below, the urges that had been planted in her body again. Even with Tristan’s mediocre – at best – endowment, she had the idea of pinning him to the wall and making him satisfy her. The idea was so at odds with the half-elf’s nature that she shivered at just how tempting it actually was. [i]That’s not me. That’s not me.[/i] She could tell herself that all day long, but making herself believe it was the harder task. Right then, she wasn’t sure she could. At any rate, Tristan stepped forward and laid his hands on the wooden door to the Vault. It opened with a whispered spell, and the pair of them stepped inside. The Vault security spells and golems had been reset, moved back to where they belonged, and the book could still be seen at the far end of the Vault. Just where she’d left it. [i]I guess this is the moment of truth…[/i] She stepped inside, moving slowly so that her skirt continued to cover her paw-feet, and she approached the book. Tristan followed behind, shutting the door behind him, but the book was all that mattered to her. It called her forward, bit by bit, until she was able to stand before it. She reached out – “So, you’ve finally shown your true colors.” It was Aster’s voice. Hazel and Tristan whipped around, their eyes wide as they saw the antlered, hoofed figure step out from the shadows. Hazel’s eyes widened further as she saw just how different Aster looked from the last time that she’d seen the elf woman. Unlike the calm, collected priestess that she had last seen in the bath, this Aster looked drained, paler than before, and she had bruises along her shoulders. They had the same lines and dark points as some of the other members of the church that punished themselves for failure, and she stared at the marks as they crisscrossed over the elf’s shoulders and around the base of her neck. Aster shook her head. “I knew that the corruption was going beyond the bounds of your control, Hazel…but that’s alright. We can heal you. This…Friend of the Demons, on the other hand…” As Aster gestured at Tristan, Hazel had a split second to realize what was going on. This wasn’t an ambush to bring her down. This was Aster making a move against Tristan, one that had probably been weeks, if not months in the making. Tristan spluttered, the high priest shaking his head. “The church does not level that title against anyone without evidence, and you have none.” “No? You have not been touched by Melchiresa, then?” Aster asked. “…You believe that I have been dealing with her?” “I have been doing some digging, Tristan. Quite a bit of digging. It seems that there is a great deal that didn’t come up during the vetting for your position.” This was getting out of hand, and it was going to get worse before it got better. Out of desperation, Hazel lifted her hand – Only for it to freeze halfway in the process of pointing at the elf. She stared at her hand, at the glowing light that had started to build in her palm. She gritted her teeth, trying to bring it up the rest of the way, but her arm refused to obey. Aster didn’t even bother looking at her. Instead, she nodded at Tristan. “Do not threaten me, girl. Direct your power at him.” “What? No – no, what’s going on?!” Her arm was moving on its own, and it was only then that she realized that the amulet was warm against her other hand and growing warmer. It was almost hot against her fingers. When she tried to let go, her hand stiffened, refusing to release the amulet. As she held her position, one hand outstretched and glowing with a spell of pain and power, Hazel whimpered. She tried to move either limb, but neither would obey her. “What is this? What are you doing to me, Aster?” “I’d like to know the same. What is the meaning of this, Sister Oakhoof?” Tristan asked. “I’ve always thought that you were too willing to forgive those that don’t deserve it,” Aster said. “You’ve allowed too many things in the village. The young men that come together in the forest, the visits of satyrs, the way that the centaurs have been allowed to come and…mingle…with the young women, encouraging their ‘experiments.’ It is not the way of Erastil.” “The way of Erastil is care and compassion, love and gentleness. That is the core of it, and it always has been.” “No. It is the love of a stable family. Of gentleness, yes, but of the protection of the family when push comes to shove. You can’t do that without a stable foundation. You can’t do that when everything is allowed.” Hazel couldn’t even bring herself to speak. The amulet continued to throb with heat, filling her from head to toe with the strange power that it had, and she found herself…slipping, for lack of a better word. All the fear, all the shame, all the anger at the loss of control was fading away. She could feel herself drifting now, almost like when she was particularly horny, when she had stopped caring about the way that the rest of the world would see her. That was how she felt right then, that nothing mattered, that shame was a foreign concept. Her pussy started to drip beneath her clothes, running wet down her leg. She was just starting to slide further down, running her hand through the pocket at the side of her dress to the space between her legs, when there was a sudden thump and gasp. She blinked, slowly looking away from Tristan to glance at Aster. She had a leather strap in her hand, and she had just slapped it across her neck. The elf shook her head. “The bonding spell…has a few unfortunate consequences. But I will purge the corruption from myself. Just like I will purge it from the temple.” “It’s not that simple.” Tristan shook his head. “This is greater corruption than you can handle. Nobody can just remove it.” “The Primal Point can.” “…How do you know about that?” “Hazel has been…most useful. Haven’t you, girl?” “Nnngh?” Hazel groaned. “What…how did…what are…” She was confused, fogged up, finding it harder and harder to think the longer that the amulet held her tight. Yet, she was wet, horny, and her arms still wouldn’t move, so…did it matter? She didn’t need to do anything right then. Did she? There was something…something… “She’s been so stressed lately, but our talks have always relaxed her. Haven’t they, Hazel?” “Yes, Mistress,” she said, barely hearing herself, drifting further and further down. Tristan looked at her, and Hazel thought that he looked shocked again. Surprised. Let down? Something in there seemed almost disappointed, like he had expected better. She felt a little hurt at that. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t stop. He looked back at Aster, shaking his head. “So, you know about that. And what do you think will happen when you go there?” “I will unleash Erastil. And then, the world will be better.” “You think that unleashing a god at the height of his strength will make the world better?” “Why not?” “There’s a number of reasons why not. If you just thought about the complications rather than the texts –” “And that is why you must be removed. You have embraced the modern world too much. You have forgotten our traditions.” “You will have to force me out, Aster.” “That’s fine. That was the plan.” Tristan raised his hands, and Aster and Hazel raised theirs. All in all, it was a very short fight. # Tristan was in the holding cells beneath the temple and she was the new high priest. Aster sat behind the desk that the human had used up until that point, resting her hooves against the floor as she tried to get comfortable. The fact that the chair was naught but simple wood helped with that, but the urges that she’d been left with made it more…difficult than she would have liked. Ever since she had used the amulet the first time, she had noticed that there was something to the connection that was problematic. There was something that poured back, something that overwhelmed the safeguards that she had put on the spell. She had assumed that it was merely some of the effects of the corruption rather than the corruption itself, and had trusted her judgment and willpower to be sufficient against it. She was wrong. “Ugh…” Aster Oakhoof gritted her teeth in annoyance and disgust as she looked between her legs. Raising her skirt, she could see her sex dripping, her clit pushing out from under its hood. There was little to be done about that now, not when there was an entire temple to take care of, but she would have to deal with it eventually. That, or put herself in a chastity belt, and the pressure of iron down there was uncomfortable, to say the least. [i]I should have known…I should have known.[/i] The corruption had settled in, and for now, punishing herself with pain would be sufficient to keep it from taking control. She could vent it in private, particularly with the aid of her new servant, but in public, she had to control herself. Pain was a remarkably effective tool for maintaining that control, as long as she was applying it properly. Perhaps she would spread that through the rest of the temple. Taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh that was almost a hiss, Aster lowered her dress again, leaving her skirt covering her dripping sex. Much as she hated the liberalism of it, she had forgone her undergarments for the moment, knowing that they would be soaked through in literal seconds from the corruption that the amulet on Hazel had been soaking up. It was useful for keeping her agent from being completely useless, but at the same time, it had become a danger to her. [i]The touch of a Demon Lord is…stronger than I expected. I doubt that I would have been able to stand up to a direct confrontation the way that she has.[/i] In a perverse way, she had an odd admiration for Hazel. The half-elf, low as she was, had been affected by something that even the greatest of clerics and paladins would have struggled with. In an odd way, her impurity was her defense. As a tool, she could not have fulfilled her role better, and Aster fully admitted that she would not have done so well against a possession as the other woman had. That said, there was a place for the impure, and a place for the pure. Hazel’s place was as a tool. Her place was as a leader. Shuffling the hooves that were her namesake beneath her new desk, she looked at the corner of the room. Hazel had been squatting there for the last hour, staring straight ahead, bound by the power of the amulet to compliance. Her dress-robe covered her still, but she was drooling with juices to a greater degree than even Aster was. She shook her head at the bestial display, wishing that there was a better way to go about this. [i]You were a good tool. If nothing else, you should be rewarded for that, but any reward that you would like would risk everyone else…[/i] Tristan had allowed this to happen, and Aster had gone along with it to see how it would play out. It had, thankfully, given her the excuse to deal with him properly, knocking the former whore off his perch and putting the church back in the hands of those that would guide it properly. Using Hazel this way had been an unfortunate consequence, but she had started impure, and had only gotten worse as time had gone on. The touch of corruption that she’d brought to the temple had served a greater purpose, but now… Well, Tristan had been right about one thing. She needed to be purged of that corruption if she would be useful in the future, and there was only one type of power that could do that. It was the same power that would save both of them. [i]And the rest of the church, at this rate…[/i] Aster stood from her desk, going to the window that overlooked the rest of the forest nearby. She could almost smell the corruption of the campsite nearby. The hobgoblins had come here to ‘learn’ from the temple. She’d doubted that story from the start. If that was the case, they would have left their worship of the spirits and the demons behind. Perhaps, if they had gone through that step, if they had cast aside their worship of all but the true, good gods, she might have believed that they were willing to be better than their past. [i]Tristan, you were a fool.[/i] Now, they were spreading their corruption through the temple and the villagers around it. She had seen no less than twenty girls with the collars of corruption around their throats, the dominance of the hobgoblins spreading through the people like wildfire. It was against the teachings of Erastil to submit like this. Wives might submit to their husbands, in a proper family, but they were not to submit to slavery, to the whims of monsters. She would fix this. She would see to it that the encampment was dealt with, and when she was done, the monsters would be banished from the world again. They would be sent away, and when Erastil was freed… When he was freed, the world would see the way that proper life was supposed to be lived. She would fix it. She would fix it all. She gritted her teeth as she felt the heat rising between her legs again, her fingers curling against the windowsill. Despite everything that she had done, she could feel the heat rising again, begging for her to take some pleasure for herself, to indulge, to allow it to give her what she needed. [i]You are a conniving one, Melchiresa…but I will take no male to bed. I will beat you at your own game.[/i] “Hazel.” The woman – if one could still call her that – looked up from her corner. Aster curled her finger, leaning against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. It was against the code of conduct for a woman to seek out pleasure that was not to lead to reproduction, but she knew that the power of the Demon Lord could create something that was not a child. She had no intention of bearing some litter for Melchiresa, and so the violation of a small code was better than the violation of a large one. She would pay her penance after she had been eased, and that would be that. No more, and no less. “Hazel. Come here.” The dazed half-elf crawled across the floor. Aster didn’t look back, but instead kept looking out the window at the world below. She took a deep breath, feeling her juices running down her legs still. They pooled along her hooves, staining them and leaving them with a slick shine. She shifted from one to the other, slowly spreading them as the other woman came to a halt behind her. “Lift my skirt and…do what you do.” It was surprisingly hard to give a sexual command. Even knowing that this wasn’t her fault, that she had been consumed by a portion of corruption, she really didn’t want to order a woman to please her. She wanted to get off, yes, to be eased from the pleasure that she was forced to want, but there was something about… The skirt slowly rose, hands rubbing against her legs as it went up. She could feel a warm, soft breath against the backs of her thighs, and Aster slowly leaned forward. The idea of actually indulging this fantasy, this thing that had been pushed into her head, was inconceivable, but at this point, she didn’t have an option. [i]A small break to avoid a bigger one,[/i] she thought. [i]And penance for it later. Pay the price for what you must have.[/i] Tristan had started paying his price by being sent to the dungeons. She would have Hazel pay her price when Erastil was released. She would pay hers as soon as this was done. “Lick,” she whispered, forcing the words out of her mouth. And the first lick dragged across her rump. The elf hissed as she felt warm hands follow, gripping her cheeks and slowly pushing them apart. The sensation of someone down there, someone pressing against her other hole rather than the one between her legs, was a little bit…difficult to tolerate, but she knew that she needed something. She had heard that there was pleasure to be had with someone using their tongue back there, and this was a way to satisfy herself without risking pregnancy. More to the point, it was a way of humiliating the young woman behind her, and giving her some punishment for what had happened. [i]Even for something that isn’t our fault, we still must pay the price.[/i] The leather strap lay over her desk, and she was tempted to reach for it, to use it against her shoulders and remind herself what was required of her. She was not the high priest for pleasure. She was not the leader of this temple in peace time. No. She had to lead it through the darkest period that it had ever faced, against horrible sabotage and incompetent leadership. Tristan had nearly sunk the temple, and now, she had to save it. Another lick followed, and she had to grip at the edge of the windowsill that much harder. Hazel’s tongue was digging in between her rump cheeks, dragging back along her hole back there. Every lick brought a strange prick of pleasure to her, a little spike of it that ran right up her spine and came down to her sex. Aster hissed softly, feeling herself getting wetter than she expected from such a dirty action. Was this corruption, she wondered? Was this something that she was being fooled into enjoying, or was it just something that anyone would feel? She didn’t know, and that was the danger, that she might – “Mmph.” Another lick, and she would have curled her toes if she still had them. Aster gritted her teeth, taking one shallow breath after another as Hazel started digging her tongue into her pucker. That constant licking, the lapping, the teasing, it was getting to her in a big way. Her eyes closed tightly as she huffed against the pleasure, trying to keep her head from spinning as it got stronger and stronger. “Mmph…lick…further…” The half-elf did as she was told, the amulet ensuring that she would obey. It was an old thing, something that had been made in the olden days by the church. It connected those that were to be together for an extended period of time, something to allow the wearer to learn what was best for them. This…this was her way of ensuring that Hazel would be rehabilitated. She’d have to find someone else she trusted to put one on Tristan, just to make sure that he did what he was told, too. That was for later, though. Lick, lap, lick, lap, each subsequent drag of a tongue along her pucker giving her more pleasure, distracting her, reminding her of how good it felt to have someone against her. There’d been few male elves that were worth her time in so long, and while this was a half-elf, and a woman besides, it was still intimacy. She could still enjoy it, and she was, dribbling away. “Mmmph…Spread…your legs…” As Hazel did as she was told, Aster lifted one hoof from the floor. She remembered how it had felt to have the half-elf grinding on her, and she was curious how it would feel from this angle. Just from a point of view of experimentation, of course. She didn’t plan to have it happen with any regularity. Then again, plans had a peculiar way of going off-course when demons and their servants were involved. # Hazel was in her own little world, mostly consumed by the power of her own arousal as well as the strength of the amulet that she still held in one hand. It was chained to her now, left locked to her wrist so that she couldn’t let go of it. She didn’t know what that was about. She didn’t know much anymore. Yet, there was still that small part of her, that small part that rested at the very back of her mind. It was swimming in the sexual need that flooded through her body, begging for some sort of pleasure, but at the same time, there was something else there, something lovely, something good that still held her back from total destruction of her own sense of self. [i]Vitus…Vakrozad…[/i] Two men that had become so important to her. One that had raped her and then saved her, the other that had saved her and then fucked her. They had both done bad things to her, and then had done something good for her afterward. She wasn’t sure if she loved either, but she felt affection for them, affection that begged to be found again. Even as she dragged her tongue over a hole that didn’t taste or smell like anything she was used to, she could remember [i]them.[/i] She had to survive for their sake. She had to get free for their sake. [i]Primal…point…[/i] Some time later, the licking was ordered to stop. She did, pulling her head back, and a hand lifted her to her feet. Led across the room, she was made to stand by a desk, made to look down at a book. It was pulled open, the pages decorated with different images, with pictures that were beautiful and frightening at the same time. “Look at this.” Aster’s voice. Mistress’s voice. She did as she was told, looking down at the pages. “What do you see?” “Pictures.” “What else do you see? What do the pictures tell you?” Hazel cocked her head to the side, looking at the book again. She looked at the images that she had seen before, at the stag and the hound that made it to the cave. She turned the page, looking at what happened next. War? Rut? It was hard to tell, but they were close and those parts were on display. The pictures showed the hound and stag in different positions, with a person between them, a body that was chained to both. “God and Demon Lord, fighting and rutting,” she said. “And?” “Chained to a person.” She turned the page. “The hound leaves. Not winning, but choosing. The stag stays.” “Why?” The image showed the stag kneeling down beside the body of the person. The chains remained, but they were golden ones, gentle ones. Not cruel chains, not the chains of a prison. “It chose to.” “Why, though?” Mistress whispered. “Why?” “Love,” she said. “I don’t know what that means. Just…love.” “Love never helped anyone out of a crisis.” [i]How little you know…[/i] [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b] Summary: Hazel and Tristan go back for the book, only for their plans to be completely thrown off the rails. Tags: F/F, F/solo, wet, heat, barefoot, horny, masturbation, leather, punishment, rimming, priestess, church, fantasy, series, corruption,