WARNING:  This story contains: implied incest, implied gender confusion, implied rape, implied cannibalism, suggested mind control, suggested crises of faith, and perhaps signs from a Goddess.  It definitely includes the following:  two and three women having sex (oral, vaginal and anal penetration, cunnilingus, anilingus), bathing, extreme piercings (not being done but already in place), magical influence, drugs, some foot worship, anal and vaginal fisting, tail-sex, shaving, impossible penetration, organ play, immobilization, torment for religious purposes, and dolcett (which includes cooking a willing living person with sexual gratification involved, cutting and flavoring a willing and aware living person while they are being cooked, and consumption of said person after death by cooking).  I cannot state it any more clearly; despite the love and affection involved, cannibalism is a primary component of this story, as is religion.  

That said, enjoy.
~XS



The four companions could not have been more different if they had tried. 

Though all four appeared human at first blush, it was quickly obvious to even the most casual observer that only one of them qualified for that appellation without condition, and in truth she was not human at all. Despite that they carried themselves with the ease of long familiarity and the casual comfort of those who had discarded the idea that appearances were the first basis for judgment.  Not that it helped when others confronted them, but they were skilled and powerful enough among them that they did not need to concern themselves with threats or worry about pitchfork and torch wielding mobs. 

Amaranth deCastella, de facto leader of the small troupe, was a beautiful woman of grace and strength; her hair was shimmering white, and her pale skin flawless.  Bright blue eyes took in the sunset with undisguised pleasure, her fingers tracing the horizon in the charcoal dust smeared on the page of her journal.  The slight points to her ears would have suggested an elven parentage, but her opalescent nails and the shifting colors they caught and reflected suggested a far more otherworldly lineage.  The chain mail she wore was unique:  the rings were of varied metals or coated in various metals, depicting a many-tailed bird with rainbow plumage.  The gold-plated glaive that rested nearby also marked her as a holy warrior of the Goddess Shelyn, lover of beauty and devotee of the beauty of love. 

That made her traveling companion Pearl seem all the stranger.  She was by no means ugly, yet there was an unpleasant cast to her that suggested she should be.  The mottled and fading bruises across her bared arms and gentle face did not help.  Wearing the simple linen robes and breeches of the ascetic Order of Issek, Bearer of the Jug, she could have easily been mistaken for an abused slave or a mistreated serf.  The delicate, slightly curved horns of bone that jutted from her forehead and swept back along her copper curls, and the emaciated, nearly skeletal tail that extended nearly the length of her own body from just above her breeches told a different story, as did the glittering rings of carved gemstone and the many silver and gold studs that decorated her ears.  The bony spade at the tip of her tail was pierced with rings of silver that chimed brightly as her tail shifted about.  

The last two were clearly sisters; they shared the same pale skin, dark hair, and heart shaped faces with full lips and slightly large, almond shaped eyes.  Yet even they were as different from one another as their companions were to each other, despite their claims to be two of a set of triplets.

Delicate and beautiful Rune was attractive in the same subtle way that Pearl was repellent.  There was no one thing that proclaimed her as beautiful or lovely, yet she was surrounded by an air of comeliness that managed even to make the strangeness of her alien right eye pique curiosity rather than repel.  She seemed youthful, barely come of age, though she claimed to be older than Pearl by at least a decade.  A simple leather kilt with a number of belts and straps hung at the waist, and a simple tunic were all the clothing she wore; jewelry was the mainstay of her apparel.  Her short raven colored hair came to a widow's peak at her brow, accentuating her good eye of metallic greens and blues, while the pupil of her right eye was a shattered star, that was mirrored by an equally star-like iris of shifting reds and violet.  She claimed it was a blessing of Callistria, the goddess of vengeance and lusts, which was easily believable given the unusual closeness of the sisters.

In contrast to Rune, Sigil stood taller than the others by a hand-span at least, and practically towered over her sister.  Her wild black hair could barely be controlled, and she kept it short as a result.  Mismatched eyes of pale green and soft blue gazed up at the stars as she stood nearby.  Unlike the others, she was clearly muscular, and lacked the softness that gave Amaranth her beauty.  A short, tight leather vest and equally short and tight legless breeches bared her scarred body as a warning; unlike her sister or Pearl, she wore tall boots of the same tight black leather.  While she and her sister had skin of an unnatural toughness, in every way it was wildly exaggerated in Sigil compared to Rune:  her nails were long, dark and iron-hard; her hair was nearly impossible to cut; and her skin could turn smaller blades away easily.  Even spells found Sigil difficult to harm.

The spectacularly odd quartet were hunting the third of the triplets, Rune and Sigil's sister Glyph.  Raised as slaves by gnolls, the triplets had been brought up among different factions of the clan, and Glyph had turned upon the witch-doctors and alchemists she had been taught by.  Poisoning them and fleeing to seek out their mother, Rune and Sigil had been forced to escape as well to try and stop their sister.  Unsuccessful, she lead them on a merry chase.  When they had caught up to her she was already quite mad, the voice of their mother having driven her so.  She claimed Lamashtu the Mother of Beasts had spoken to her and she was to become the mother of a fearsome coven of hags.  Their first battle was conclusively Glyph's victory.  Rune and Sigil were forced to spend much of their lifetime trying to capture, then seeking kill their sister after she had made good on her claim.

Amaranth and Pearl had met the sisters years previous, and they too were seeking to bring the cruel hag-born woman to justice.  No longer merely a changeling, Glyph had become a terror in her own right, a terrifying Night Hag that plagued dreams and brought nightmares, trading in souls and dealing with the foul denizens of the darker realms.  True to her word she had sired a coven of terrible mute-hags who brought misery and horror to the countryside they passed through.  Glyph brought her daughters to the duchy ruled by Amaranth's parents, and the plague of hags had nearly destroyed the peace of the entire kingdom.   Though Sigil was in fact a witch, and Rune a powerful sorceress, neither of them had succumbed to the siren call of their mother and instead chose to remain mortal changelings, the fruit of the union of a hag and a hapless man she had seduced through charms, deception, or perhaps mere force.

Pearl, though born of human parents, showed that her family carried the tainted blood of ancient shadow-creatures, the sadistic flesh-warpers called kytons.  Determined to prove she was better than that, she took vows with the Order of Issek, dedicating herself to the succor and protection of those weaker.  The bruising of her flesh was not from assaults – though battle did make it worse – but was simply the nature of her otherworldly body showing the spiritual suffering Pearl chose to endure rather than the pain her spirit should have wished to inflict upon others.  

She had met the darkling sisters when she and other members of her nunnery were assisting a blighted township that Glyph had passed through.  The horrors perpetrated by Glyph's daughter's could not be allowed to continue, so the nun took to the road with the strange sisters, seeking to capture or punish the hag for her trespass.  The Order of Issek was not a cloistered sect, but one which expected their adherents to be able to defend their charges most fervently.  While Pearl was not one of the brightest, she was wise enough to realize that stopping the issue at the source was far better than cleaning up after.

Being a holy warrior, Amaranth could not permit Glyph to escape justice after ravaging the lands owned and protected by her parents.  She suspected it was no coincidence that Shelyn was one of the prominent deities of the land from which she hailed and which Glyph had chosen to foist her horrifying children upon.  When Sigil, Rune and Pearl had been brought to the castle, accused of being hag-children (true) and a demon (partly true) and aiding the invading horrors (false), Amaranth had offered them 'freedom in exchange for their assistance' in hunting down the villainous Glyph.  That they had already been on that path meant little; the appearance of justice was enough to secure the acceptance of the people and to reassure the Duke and Duchess deCastella she would be in no great danger.  

Of course, the fact that she was a paladin of Shelyn was a much larger point in her favor, and even had her parents forbidden it, she would have eventually made her way after Glyph in the end.  To do so with competent company, despite their individual oddities and which Amaranth could not claim she did not share a measure of, was more likely to succeed.

Their trial and tribulations had left them strengthened and scarred alike, and they had all become fast friends, in spite of their vast differences in both cultures and natures.  Their common enemy was now consistently losing ground to their combined strength, and had taken to flight across the lands towards Cheliax, where she might find allies amongst the devil-worshipers and nobility who could use those 'wares' that a powerful night hag could provide.  It made things somewhat difficult for two of their number – while the Cheliaxians would tolerate a polite and very restrained paladin of Shelyn (for even the most wicked of folk loved), the tainted blood of their tiefling companion Pearl would mark her as a second class citizen and make her the target of a great deal of ire.

Rune and Pearl were preparing their evening meal, a repast fashioned by both magic and nature, and discussing the possibilities of sneaking the stalwart nun through the borders and townships of Cheliax as they dogged Glyph's heels.  “I wish I could say that I am good enough at transformations that I could make you seem completely human for long enough, but the chances of someone noticing the spell are high in this land.”  Rune stirred the thick stew, spreading seasonings from nowhere over the rich gravy.  

“It wouldn't be so bad if people would let me be.  Your sister wouldn't even have to put trouble in our way.”  She sighed and ran her fingers along one of the smooth bone horns that jutted from her brow and curved back over her hair and flicked her tail irritably, making the rings in it chime.  

Sigil lifted her arm and a sleek dragonet dropped from the sky, landing carefully along her forearm and coiling tail about her wrist.  His scales changed from a mottled black and white to a more pale pink with a black stripe along his back and limbs, his catlike eyes a match in color for Sigil's own.  “Even as a slave the Hellknights and priests of Cheliax would be attentive to our Pearl,” she commented, her voice a low purr as she stroked her familiar's neck gently.

With a sigh, the tiefling reached directly into the fire to turn the damp-cloth wrapped tubers, her flesh unmarred by the heat.  “This sort of thing is difficult for me,” Pearl admitted, well aware that she was not the brightest of the group.  “Promise me you'll think of something, Rune?”

“My sister probably already has,” the sorceress commented mildly.  A glance at the tall, strangely muscular witch brought a nod of agreement.  “I just don't know how the pretty one is going to take it.”  Rising, the delicate sorceress stepped out of her sister's way so that Sigil could lift the heavy iron pot away from the flames.  

“Going to take what?” the lilting voice of their fourth member questioned curiously as she returned from her sunset watch.  Her prayer book was once more bound, containing a new landscape to honor her goddess.  “I hope this isn't another of your wicked ideas, you little catamite....”  she warned Rune good-naturedly.  Rune was constantly trying to get the paladin to indulge in more sensual pleasure as opposed to maintaining her loving and all-too-platonic relationship with the trio.

Taking no offense to the unusually correct epithet, Rune shook her head.  “Not me this time.  Sigil has a plan for getting Pearl past the border and hiding her away until we find our....find Glyph.”  Rune dug in her sister's pack for the plates, bowls, and utensils.  “But you're really not going to like the idea, so we should eat first.”  

Knowing better than to suggest Rune might bespell or enchant the food, Amaranth nodded agreeably.  “Sigil, could you help me out of my armor?”  Pearl was busy pulling the tubers from the fire and unwrapping them to place on the plates.  

The tall changeling nodded silently, and Symbol slithered up his mistress' arm to perch upon Sigil's shoulder, watching the disrobing paladin curiously.  Amaranth sighed happily as the armor was taken from her with ease to be set aside, and the straps and loops of the padding were loosened for her to take off.  “It is too hot in these lands for such gear at night,” she complained mildly, “as pretty as it may be.”  

“Now Rune is the one with all the glitter,” Pearl teased mildly, handing Amaranth a plate and bowl.  There were princesses of desert kingdoms with less gold and silver adornment than Rune habitually wore, though it was unlikely that it was as closely attached in most cases.

The plain, sweat-stained tunic and breeches Amaranth was left in did not detract from her beauty.  “And that is as it should be; it suits her so much better.  Though, I don't know why you leave all those rings in, honestly, Rune.  A pretty as they are, I don't see it as being beautiful.”

Rune smirked at the paladin.  “I couldn't imagine myself without them.  I'm no Kuthite, but I've had them or similar in since before I could walk.”  Raised as a plaything for the gnoll matriarchs, Rune's title of catamite was entirely earned.  “Besides, they're harder than silver.  The droplets might be silver, but the rings themselves are adamant.  Anything sharp enough to remove them with I wouldn't want near my closed petals in any case.”  

Pearl handed Sigil a plate with two tubers and an extra spoonful of stew in her bowl.  Her familiar invariably assisted Sigil in eating.  “I can understand that.  I might be able to pry them open though if you really wanted me to.”  The ascetic offered every time, seeming to forget the refusal she'd heard not even a moment before.  Her mystic training in the arts of defense of the innocent and weak made her capable of uncanny feats of skill, strength, and prowess.

“She wouldn't know what to do with it,” Sigil commented softly, much to Rune and Amaranth's amusement.  

“Well, if Amaranth wanted to teach me,” suggested Rune slyly.  

The paladin nearly choked on her food as well as her laughter.  “No, Rune, you're a little too free about such things for me!” admitted the warrior.  Pearl grinned and even Sigil's lips curled slightly.  “Sigil's much more my speed, but I think she only has eyes for one person.”  

Rune snorted with a smirk, but did not deny it either.  She was well aware of her sister's preference for her company above all others.  That worthy let silence speak for her. 

After the meal Amaranth conjured water for them to bathe with as Sigil scraped the pot and buried the remnants safely away from their camp, as well as cleaned the dishes they'd used.  Rune assisted Pearl at bathing, the latter's tail requiring unusual care.  Amaranth openly admired them both; they ~were~ beautiful, each in their own way.  Rune's was a youthful, lithe beauty enhanced by the many gold and silver pieces of jewelry and shining gems she wore.  Pearl's was an otherworldly strangeness; the migrating bruises giving her a constantly changing and unique artwork that was a part of her, and her freckled skin and coppery hair giving her a human look that was challenged by the bone of her nails, horns and tail.  The tight skin and nearly transparent muscles of her tail gave her a somewhat psychopomp appearance.  The repulsion others felt when confronted by the tiefling was strictly in their heads. 

As Amaranth bathed, Sigil collected firewood.  A lot of it.  (You really think she will allow it?) the pseudodragon that served as her link to the source of her power inquired curiously.

“I think she will participate,” replied Sigil softly as she tore apart a log with her bare hands to make it easier to carry.

(It will be interesting to see if you are right,) Symbol murmured in her mind, his thoughts colored by his intense curiosity.  (I still think she likes you.)  Sigil smiled and shook her head, not in disagreement but suggesting it was a closed subject.

When she returned to camp, Sigil took the opportunity to bathe as well, but she gave her sister a nod, suggesting she speak with Amaranth about the idea to get Pearl into Cheliax unnoticed.  Rune nodded shortly, and busied herself with preparing their tent as Amaranth and Pearl prepared theirs.  They camped outside by choice, rather than necessity; Rune and Sigil could both provide safe and unassailable shelters, but all four of them felt better in the natural world, though for entirely different reasons.

After Rune had put up small but potent wards and warnings abut their camp, she motioned Amaranth and Pearl to join her at the fire.  Sigil was cleaning and mending their collective clothing at the entrance to the tent she and Rune shared.  “My sister has devised a plan to enable us to bring Pearl into Cheliax and keep her safe within its borders until we locate Glyph.  It is a technique we have used before, but not since we've met you, Amaranth, and Sigil think you might take some very serious issues with it.”  Pearl and Amaranth had long since given up questioning the sister's deep, perhaps mystic rapport; speaking to one was much like speaking to both, though their opinions could be quite different.

For Rune or Sigil to suggest that the open-minded paladin could take offense was peculiar.  Pearl seemed bemused at first, and then smiled brightly, her delicate fangs showing.  “Oh, I remember now.  Yes, I think that would be wonderful!”  She turned shining, happy eyes of green to the aasimar, who looked between Rune and Pearl in confusion.  

“Well, I can at least hear you out.  Perhaps I can come up with a better idea if the one you present isn't appealing.”  Amaranth smiled encouraging.

All three of them glanced at Sigil when the stoic witch murmured, “....should have said 'appetizing',” to herself.  Her familiar's colors wavered as it chirruped in laughter.

Rune shook her head and then turned her mismatched eyes upon Amaranth.  “Essentially, the issue is we cannot effectively hide or disguise Pearl without potentially attracting more and worse attention than if we simply had her with us.  And having her with is a liability because the powers that rule Cheliax consider her worse than they consider you, Amaranth.”  The paladin nodded.  Pearl's tail chimed as she lashed it excitedly, almost squirming on the log.  “The last time we had such a situation, there was a daemon of death summoned by a powerful necromancer to consume her soul.  We couldn't truly hide, disguise, or escape it, much less defeat it at the time.”

Sigil finished with the clothing, and turned her attention on the padding Amaranth wore under her armor, checking the straps and stitching for wear or cuts, seeming uninterested.  Her familiar's attentiveness belied Sigil's lack of it.

Rune took a deep breath.  “I consulted a knowledgeable priestess of Callistria, who communed with the Goddess on our behalf.  She did come up with a solution, one which suited all three of our religious observances and cultures.  It worked, very well, I might add, though at the time it was costly.  Now, however, Sigil by herself is powerful enough that we don't have to rely on the graces of any deity except Issek himself.”  

Amaranth was confused.  “Why would you still need to rely on Issek's blessing for this?  I understand he is a God of perseverance through suffering, succor, and kindness, and bears the Jug of God's Wine....that doesn't seem to suit our needs at all.”  

“Because Lord Issek would have to release my soul after you eat me,” claimed Pearl brightly.

Rune choked at the sudden exclamation, and Sigil looked up, her expression gently disapproving and completely unnoticed by Pearl.  Amaranth's voice was very small.  “I'm sorry, what did you say?”  Her expression was politely appalled, if such a thing existed.

She hadn't blanched or exploded, so Rune quickly tried to repair the damage.  “My sister and I were raised from babes by gnolls.  Pearl's faith accepts the concept of the expiation of sin and guilt and the strengthening of faith through castigation.  The idea of simply killing a friend was repulsive....but the idea of killing and consuming someone we care about....is not so unpleasant.  To gnolls it is honoring another gnoll's death.”  Rune suspected Amaranth did not need to know anything further about gnoll's culture currently.  

Though pale, the paladin nodded her understanding.  Sighing Rune spread her delicate hands, her dark and pierced nails gleaming in the firelight.  “So, we cooked and ate Pearl, in the manner she specified could be done.  We kept her bones, and when the daemon returned to its master and destroyed him after being unable to slay our beloved friend, we paid the Callistrian priestess to return her to life.”  It had cost them dearly, not merely in monetary favors, but in sexual ones, as well as performing a quest in Callistria's name.  Once the debt had been paid the trio had ended closer in friendship and greater in power, so perhaps the price was not so high after all. 

On the other hand, Amaranth was looking rather confused and more than a little troubled.  “So....if I understand this....you....WE....would cook Pearl, eat her flesh, bury the remainder, and carry her bones with us through Cheliax.  That would make it possible to travel through Cheliax without issue.  And when we find Glyph, Sigil could return Pearl to life just from her bones?”  Rune gazed solemnly at the paladin, finding further comment unnecessary.

“I would be honored to become one with my sister-in-arms after the castigation ceremony,” claimed Pearl brightly.  Her sincerity seemed to disturb Amaranth even more than the idea Rune had suggested in the first place.  

“I'll need to pray for guidance, I think,” whispered Amaranth softly, her shining eyes closed.  

“Of course!”  Pearl smiled, absolutely oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking on the aasimar's conscience.  “Shelyn will guide you well, I'm sure of it.”  

Rune stood and gently took Pearl's hand.  “Come along and we'll talk about it more over here,” the changeling suggested as she took Pearl to the tent she shared with Amaranth.  

Nodding her head in agreement, Pearl glanced back at Amaranth once more with a brilliant smile.  Rune glanced at her sister, who finished her cleaning of Amaranth's tunic and folded it, silently acknowledging her sister's plea.  Amaranth was already kneeling before the fire with her head bowed in deep prayer, a faint rainbow hued nimbus forming around her. 

When she stood up and dusted herself off Amaranth sighed softly, still looking troubled.  She was startled when Sigil's soft, husky voice spoke from behind her.  “This is done.  Let me make sure it fits.”  Amaranth allowed Sigil to help her shrug into the thickly padded linen that protected her from her chain mail.  The changeling busied herself with the straps and buckles, making sure it was snug but not tight, and that she hadn't sewn something incorrectly.  

The idea that this was a child – well, a woman in age, if not entirely in appearances – who had eaten someone hat she considered a dear friend should have troubled Amaranth.  It troubled her that she could accept it.  Though Rune tried to protect her from the way she and her sister had been brought up, Amaranth was not ignorant of the gnolls, and was very familiar with their hateful and monstrous deity.  She suspected, often, that Sigil had been forced to perform some very gruesome acts as a fighting slave for the gnolls, rape and murder among them.  

Despite her unnatural strength and inhuman toughness, the witch was more healer than killer.  Certainly she could stand at Amaranth and Pearl's sides and hold her own, unusual for any wielder of magic, but she was even more of a healer.  “You once said to me that the body whole made for a better warrior,” Amaranth murmured as Sigil adjusted a strap along her side.

“Mhmm.”  

“I can see, in a way, why Rune would accept what the priestess told her.  But why would you?  You rejected almost everything you learned among the gnolls.”  Amaranth turned to face Sigil, the firelight behind her turning Sigil's pupil's gold as they captured the light.  “If anything you would have rejected it because of the taint you carry.”  

Sigil blinked and lifted her hands, looking at the black claws of her nails.  Each of them, the triplets, had garnered power from a different type of hag.  A peculiarity of their birthright.  Glyph, the albino, had taken her voluptuous looks and emotional potency from the frightening mute-hags.  Rune was a delicate and beautiful creature, cunning and alluring as a green hag.  Sigil had the claws, strength, an unnatural resilience of an annis hag. 

Which, more so than any of their kindred, were renowned as flesh-eaters.  

Lowering her hands, Sigil gently started undoing the straps of Amaranth's padding.  “Our conception was accompanied by the death of a man,” she murmured.  Amaranth was almost startled, and then realized it was silly to forget the very source of their heritage had no love for mortals except as provender or toys.  “We don't even recall what blood our mother carries.  We were in swaddling of human skin when we were given to the gnolls to raise.”  Sigil helped Amaranth out of the padding and folded it carefully.  She set it on the log near the fire and sat.  

Amaranth followed suit, silent in the face of the normally laconic Sigil's words.  

“I never ate the flesh of enemies.  I was raised among the warriors of the tribe, as a pet.  To fight other slaves, other pets, often from other clans.  Betting was fierce.  The only time I was fed mortal flesh was when a gnoll warrior had fallen.  It was a solemn duty, not an orgy of murder or bloody feast.  The warriors shed no tears.  They spoke of their comrades lives as powerful, precious.  Condemned their foolhardiness and lack of cowardice as well.”  She fell silent for a moment, but Amaranth let her take the time she needed, watching Pearl and Rune talk animatedly at the tent.

Shaking her head once, Sigil continued.  “Because I was the most prized pet, I was given one scrap of each fallen warrior so that I would remain strong and continue to win contests.  Cooked, not raw, prepared properly.  A good luck charm, a ritual.  I was told I should be honored to receive such a gift, that only the most valuable and strong pets could receive it.”  Symbol crawled along his mistress' back and coiled his tail about her throat lightly, his stinger a dark gem at the hollow or her throat as he licked Sigil's ear.  “So, to be told that I would consume Pearl's flesh, a person, a warrior I ad fought beside, it was an honor.  It was a gift from her.”  

Amaranth took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Sigil interrupted her before she could speak.

“Do you know who Issek of the Jug is?”  Sigil's question caught her off guard, especially since she'd mentioned what she knew to Rune and Pearl.  “Issek was the servant of a great king.  The king had such faith in him that when foreign dignitaries claimed the kings strongest servant could not withstand the tortures that they would perform upon the people if the king did not capitulate, the king gave them the least of his servants, a simple cup-bearer, to torture as they saw fit.”  The changeling reached down and picked up a small piece of wood, turning it in her hands and toying with it.  Symbol craned his serpentine neck curiously to watch.

“They tortured him for nine days, with innumerable tools.  He would not speak against the king, denounce the throne, or condemn the people of the country.  On the ninth day, upon the rack, they said that if he would not bend to their will, they would break him upon the rack.”  Sigil turned the piece of wood over and over again, the dark bark falling away and turning into delicate curls of pale wood.  “They tried, but rather than bursting apart Issek, Issek burst the rack apart.  He rose up, his wrists and ankles twisted and broken, and killed each and every torturer.”  

The muscular witch worked on the small block of work as she spoke in a nearly distracted, off-hand way.  Amaranth recognized the telling of a parable, and hadn't realized the witch had made any study of religion at all, much less that of an obscure sect of ascetics.  So rather than commenting or suggesting the improbability of it, she sat and listened patiently.  The tale ~was~ interesting, as she hadn't heard it before.  Sigil's voice, so rarely used by the laconic young woman, was hypnotic in its soft huskiness.

“When Issek crawled into the great hall of the castle, he did so upon twisted and broken limbs.  Despite that he forced himself to stand, and with trembling, twisted hands took up the king's jug, and poured a final glass of wine for the king as all watched in silence.  Only then did Issek fall dead.”  The strange carving was nearly complete, and Symbol had draped himself across the back of his mistress' neck, sleeping, or pretending it.  “The king looked at the people who threatened his lands, and asked them if they would wish to test themselves against his mightiest warriors now.  They fled for their lives, one hundred strong men after them.”  Sigil held up the wooden carving, a stoppered jug with a wide handle, hardly longer than her own finger.  

Amaranth waited for the lesson, but Sigil merely looked at the jug, her mismatched eyes gleaming in the dimming firelight.  “I don't understand what the martyrdom of a God has to do with the....ritual you described, Sigil,” she admitted softly.

Sigil looked at her in surprise.  “Issek wasn't a god.  He was an ordinary man.  But for the sake of the king he....he served, he accomplished an extraordinary thing.”  The witch placed the smooth carving of the Jug of Issek into Amaranth's hands, and rose, making her way towards the tent.  Amaranth watched her leave, feeling a bit shocked that she hadn't realized the stoic witch was actually a follower of Issek, and not merely relating a story told by Pearl.  

She also suspected that Sigil had meant a word quite different than 'served'.

Amaranth was still troubled as she tried to sleep that night.  While Sigil's story, meant to be a reassurance and suggest that even the greatest of good made sacrifices of themselves for the ones they loved, the idea of it was still abhorrent.  Yet despite the awful idea that she might be cooked and eaten, Pearl slept at peace with herself and the world, curled upon her bedroll with her tail hugged in both arms.  

The simple linen nightshirt the daemon-blooded woman moved with her breaths; she used no blanket because she became too hot.  Even now she warmed the tent by her mere presence, just as she warmed the lives of the others with her cheerful determination and persistent optimism.  Not even the irascible Rune could find her joy de vivre entirely off-putting.

But dying for the sake of allowing the others to move freely in the land of the devil worshipers?  Being eaten as part of a ritual to purge the sins and guilt of a lifetime?  True, pretending slavery would be both a lie and humiliating, and it would slow them down, but it was life, at least.  Except it wouldn't ~just~ slow them down.  The locals would go out of their way to cause trouble.  The knights of the realm would be just, but temper said justice with the disdain and cruelty of the nobility's hatred of the fiend blooded.  The fact that Pearl was descended from those who consumed souls might have been lost on the ascetic herself, but it would make the diabolists and invokers of Cheliax even more ill-at-ease. 

The contrariness of those commonly known for bartering and owning souls being hateful towards those who consumed them was not lost on the paladin.

When Amaranth woke with the dawn, Pearl was still asleep.  Stroking the daemon-tainted woman's copper curls, she sat and considered the choices before her for a little while.  Pearl rolled over onto her front, still hugging her tail as she murmured pleasantly in her sleep; the holy warrior smiled, and glanced down at the bruises that now decorated Pearl's right leg from ankle to thigh.  

Her breath caught in her throat.

The patterning of the tiefling's changing faux-bruises was utterly random.  There was no rhyme or reason to the shifting locations, only that they appeared, healed and appeared again.  Except for this time, apparently, as they formed something very close to a flight of birds rising from her ankle and swirling about her leg to vanish into the softness of her pale skin.  Even as Amaranth watched the bruises shifted, grew, shrank and become a more typical mottling of Pearl's flesh.  

Leaning over she laid a soft kiss on the tiefling's cheek, and was rewarded with a brighter smile despite the young woman's sleep.  

Slipping quietly from the tent, Amaranth began her morning ablutions, conjuring more water into a basin and washing thoroughly.  Rune and her sister were already awake, one holding her arms up to the sun and gathering her mystical strength, the other communing with her dragonet and whatever forces granted her the uncanny strength and potent magics she could bring to bear. Shelyn granted Amaranth her blessings and power at sunset, when she thanked the Goddess for the beauty and strength and love given during the daytime.  Still, her morning rituals were as meaningful and important as the evening ones.  

Rune's irises glowed with a light all their own as she took deep, slow breaths of the cool morning air.  The strange pair had come a long way since their nocturnal lives among the gnolls which had raised them, and they had managed to survive long enough to overcome both the culture the gnolls had instilled in them and the curse their mother had birthed them with.  Their thinking was still alien compared to most humans; despite that they were capable of keeping much of their strangeness to themselves when they needed to.  Rune kept Sigil in line, and Sigil kept Rune from lashing out at those who violated her strange codes of behavior. 

That those codes of behavior included the capacity to cook and eat a friend had shaken Amaranth's understanding of the pair.  Still, Rune had said it was not a choice easily taken; there were fates worse than death, and many of them could be found at the hands of Cheliaxian justice.  If avoiding death had prompted the first, then Rune and Sigil were certain worse was likely.  Amaranth had to agree with that assessment.  Cheliax was a haven for those who practiced the blackest of magic, but it was no lawless country.  Quite the opposite, it was a sweltering cesspool of legalism, binding contracts (not nearly all of the earthly realm), and brokered deals.  Their rulers granted their city guards a measure of leeway when dealing with those who broke the law, and the Order of Hell Knights stood above them in harsh judgment.  Not always fair judgment, but most certainly quick and ~effective~ harsh judgment.

The fact was illusion and disguise could not protect their friend, and traveling as a slave would be no less safe, especially if her 'owner' was accused of some crime and judgment fell against them.  It was entirely possible if the lacked the proper bribes or the clever words to twist the local laws to their favor, or worse, if the wrong person took an undue interest in them.  

And then there was the sign she'd been given.  That more than anything else set Amaranth's mind at ease.  Shelyn was not a cruel or obtuse Goddess, and the paladin would do anything for Pearl, even die for her.  This was harder, but there were no ways around it that Amaranth – and more importantly the silent yet brilliant witch Sigil – could see.

Finished bathing, and smiling as Rune turned away with no flush of shame on those pale cheeks, Amaranth put on a simple linen tunic and some breeches, as well as the necklace that held the cloisonne bird of paradise that served her as a symbol of her faith.  She walked over to where Rune sat as Sigil seemed to take new instruction from her green and brown banded pseudo-dragon who crawled through the tree while watching his mistress.  Rune was preparing their breakfast, and glanced at the paladin more openly.

“I see you've made a decision.”  Her voice was sharp and cutting, even in the softest words she spoke.  A holdover from her childhood of captivity.

Amaranth nodded.  “Tell me about the ritual,” she said calmly, trying to ignore the racing of her heart.  

~XS~

Pearl woke up to the smell of eggs, roasted steak, fresh onion and another sharp scent she didn't recognize, and Sigil singing.  Pearl's heart soared as she recognized the ley that the witch's throaty voice ululated to the open landscape around them.  A howling lament for a fallen warrior of the gnolls, sang in their honor as they died.  True, she wasn't dead yet, and before she died there would be a glorious torment to burn away her sins and guilt, but it was for her, undoubtedly.  She understood the words instinctively, some primal part of her mind hearing the meanings and intent without knowing the language.  It was beautiful, and sad, and condemning, which she thought was funny.  

Escaping the confines of the tent, she joined a subdued Amaranth and a typically uninterested Rune at breakfast, looking and feeling far too perky for the solemnity the others seemed to be holding fast to.  “This is a good thing, Amara, this is a joyous thing.  There are so few of my order who are allowed to go through this ceremony, much less twice!”  Rune gave her a plate, and she gestured with her fork.  “Normally we would have to wait until the very end of our lives, and expiate all the guilt and sin we've accumulated over a whole lifetime.  I get to face our enemy free of sin and guilt, pure in body ~and~ soul!”  

Rune smirked, even her hard bitten attitudes unable to entirely resist the tiefling's macabre joy in her sacrifice.  “That isn't necessarily going to make it easier on her, you know, Pearl.”  Rune sat down, and began toasting some bread on the lid of the pan she'd cooked the eggs in.

“It is really all right, Rune.  I understand, and you are both right.  This is the best way, and Pearl is willing, and wants this.”  Leaning over she kissed Pearl on the corner of her mouth softly, making the lovely creature blush.  “It is the very least I can do for my sister-in-arms.”  Amaranth promised herself she would do at the very least what was required.  More than that, she would have to work towards. 

Despite the upcoming event – Amaranth couldn't bring herself to call it a 'meal' or a 'feast' – Amaranth ate breakfast with little trouble.  Pearl was ridiculously pleased; it was unnerving to see the ascetic looking forward to what could only be a supremely painful demise.  Still, after being given a sign, the holy warrior was not going to go back on her word, nor risk Pearl to fates worse than death.  

“....and then he said, 'But if you wanted it in THERE, why didn't you just say so?!'” Rune snickered, a wicked sound that brought to mind sneaky fae and cruel pixies.  Amaranth smiled at the ribald joke.  Pearl looked into her friend's bright blue eyes, glad she could make the paladin smile at least.  Sigil was building the fire-pit, the wood Rune and Pearl had gathered being carefully arranged in it.  She also had a smaller fire built, and was mixing some strange brew in the small iron cauldron she kept away from the rest of their food preparations.  “Hey, what's Sigil cooking?”  

Rune smirked.  “She's making a marinade or basting oil.  Maybe both.”  Pearl's eyes widened and she started to get up to go look.

Amaranth interrupted her.  “Pearl, did you convert Sigil to your faith?  It seems....strange that your order would accept a witch as a devotee of Issek.”  

The sorceress grimaced, while Pearl sat back down, her tail sliding to coil around her own waist.  “Not really.  I mean, I guess I kind of gave her a focus for it, but she was already practicing it.  Uh, like fasting, and depriving herself, and forcing herself to face the dangers she was threatened by, like, um, well, eating people.”  

“And chastity.  Don't forget chastity.”  Rune's complaint was mild though.  “She's much more civilized now than she used to be.”  

Amaranth smiled.  “Well, perhaps for today you might try convincing her that some indulgences are okay, for a day.  This is supposed to be a joyful ceremony, after all.”  Rune looked sharply at Amaranth, who purposefully ran her fingers along a completely ignorant Pearl's thigh while looking back at Rune.  

With her expression softening only a little and the strange starburst pupil and iris of her right eye pulsating, Rune considered the Shelyn-worshiper's suggestion.  “Maybe.  We'll see.”  The paladin had no doubt Rune would keep Sigil busy for a while, in one way or another.  And honestly, Amaranth did hope that it was a pleasant way.  Sigil's love for her sister might be forbidden by most, but it was both true and deep.  Not even the powerful siren call of their mother or their triplet sister-turned-hag had drawn the stoic woman away from the much more volatile Rune's side.  

Shelyn could look past something as small as their blood relation if she could look past what Amaranth would do tonight.  

Pearl, ignorant of the scheming women, cleaned up the breakfast dishes and started singing a jaunty tune.  Amaranth retreated as Rune began casting spells, conjuring invisible servants to assist in making the camp more secure for the day and next evening.  After an hour of drills, and a rinse, she sought the witch's company once more while Rune and Pearl broke their simple camp and prepared the new one.  

Glancing at Amaranth, Sigil seemed unsurprised by the woman's flushed complexion and hesitant demeanor.  As her familiar dropped a sheaf of pungent herbs into the small cauldron, Sigil ran her claws over a stout beam of white oak, the bark and burls coming away in thin shavings as she smoothed the wood out.  The point at one end was ominous.  

“I was wondering, Sigil....Rune said that you were preparing a....a marinade?  Or basting wash?”  Amaranth could not believe she was even contemplating this.  Well, not what she was planning to do, just that she was planning to do it before cooking and eating the person she planned on making love to.  “How....how would you be applying it?”

The laconic woman gazed up at the aasimar from the stone she sat on.  “First oiling inside and out, thoroughly.  I added herbs and infusions to assist the ecstatic state of mind, as well as those to properly enhance her flavor.”  The witch smiled faintly.  “She is quite gamy, despite her healthy lifestyle.  Then, the spitting, which I will take care of.  After, skewering then bag-pushing the marinade into her muscles.  It will have a strong flavoring and be very astringent, to help ease the toughness of her flesh.  There will be other drugs as well, but like the oils, they will burn off long before the feast.”  

It took a great deal of effort for Amaranth to remind herself that this was a gift for her friend, a dear and strong friend who cared about them all.  It really didn't help matters that Sigil kept using proper pronouns rather than depersonalizing the situation.  

“Pearl isn't a piece of meat.”  Amaranth started at the flat condemnation of her line of thought.  “No, nothing so bold as mind-reading.  Even Pearl would notice your concern.  But I am not going to consider Pearl meat, or make it less personal.  This IS personal, Amaranth.  It is the most personal thing ever.  If it was not personal....I wouldn't even consider this.”  Sigil rose slowly, setting the pole – no, the SPIT, that would be used to cook PEARL – aside.

Gripping Amaranth's smooth, strong arms in calloused, powerful hands, the tall witch spoke very softly.  “Pearl is my friend.  I am doing this because my friend needs me to, and because if I do not, she could become a plaything for devils and sorcerers and wizards and diabolists.  She could end up as a sacrifice, bleeding on an altar; she could become a bargaining chip, some plaything offered to a devil to birth horrors upon.”  Amaranth felt sick, in ways the thought of consuming human flesh had not made her earlier.  “There are powers I could have gained, magics I could have learned that would make consuming the flesh of mortals easy, even empowering.  I am not using those magics, nor would I, because that is obscene, to eat the flesh of men and women you don't know.  To steal them from others who care about them and ruin lives.”  

She didn't have to suggest it; the paladin knew that Sigil was speaking of her mother, her other sister.  “We are going to consume the flesh of a fellow warrior, because it is our way of protecting her, and giving her the gift of expiation as well,” Amaranth said weakly.  “It's not about eating human flesh, it's about keeping our friend to ourselves, sharing her with each other, and not allowing her to become a devil's plaything.”  Strangely, she wasn't trying to convince herself.  This time, she was letting Sigil know she understood.  “I wish....” 

Sigil placed her hand over Amaranth's mouth.  “Glyph knew what would happen, planned this.  So this is how Rune and I are going to thwart her.  By doing something Glyph would have done....and not becoming like Glyph despite that.  We will ~persevere~.  And be stronger for it.”  

When Amaranth nodded, Sigil lowered her hand, placing it back on the paladin's shoulder.  “I'm going to give you the oils.  They should be cool.”  Turning, Sigil took a simple cooking pot filled with a thick, milky oil and handed it to Amaranth.  “She needs to drink at least two cups of it.  It won't affect you, as long as you don't drink it.  It should be applied everywhere, as deeply as possible though.”  Sigil turned back to the fire-pit and added several logs, as Amaranth turned back to their camp, her head spinning.

Their wildly transformed camp.  

Where before there had been two tents, a few logs and stones, and a fire-pit, there now stood a sturdy log cabin.  The windows were actually glazed, though only translucent, and the shutters were open; tar was clearly laid between the logs as well.  The roof was shingled, and there was a stone chimney jutting from the center of the A-framed building.  The door was sturdy oak, and both it and the shutters of the windows were decorated with carvings of wasps flying among flowers.  The porch was a small slab of stone, and next to it was a large amphora filled with clean water leaning against the wall – an offering for any who desired to drink, obviously left by Pearl.  

When she walked in, she was treated to sturdy wooden floors, a central fireplace of brick that was already lit and burning merrily, as well as two large wooden beds with thick mattresses and soft sheets of fine cotton and blankets of even softer wool.  A large table with four stools was off to one side, and a writing desk at the other with a more comfortable chair at it.  There was even a latrine closed off in one corner, with a stack of cloths and a bucket of water to wash with revealed by the currently open door.  Rune was directing a large copper tub to one side of the room, the tub walking under its own power; Pearl was sitting on the brick wall of the fireplace – her feet inside the circle – and was placing large stones to heat the tub with in the fire.  

“Oh good, you're here.  Despite all the wonders I can manage, making potable water isn't among them.  Unless you count tiny rain clouds, which took me almost half an our to fill the bucket with.”  Rune's exasperation was not unusual, and she was clearly exaggerating about how long it had taken.  “If we're going to spend a few days here, we may as well do it in comfort.”  

Pearl smiled as she placed another hefty stone in the fireplace to bake.  “I really need a bath before all this, but I wouldn't mind some help,” she noted.  “Stupid tail is really a problem.”  The knobby and interlinked skeletal structure of her tail, despite being sheathed in near-transparent skin and flesh, was just as prone to collecting dirt and oils in the crevices as anyone's ears were.  “And a real bath is just nice anyways.”

Setting the pot of sharply scented unguent on the table, Amaranth couldn't help but smile at Rune's discontent.  “I am always happy to help, Rune.  But I imagine you could heat the water much faster than the stones Pearl is baking could.”  Pearl blinked and then looked at Rune.  

“I could, yes, but she insisted on helping out.”  Amaranth shook her head, but Rune smirked at her.  “You're the one who ruined it for her.”  

“Well, I'll just have to make it up to her then,” Amaranth replied loftily as Pearl groaned and back-flipped off the bricks into a crouch.  Asking her Goddess for the blessing of clean and fresh water, Amaranth couldn't help but wonder if her spell would be answered.  When she completed the spell, water swirled up from the bottom of the tub, slowly filling it, much to the paladin's relief.  It was with renewed wonder that she gave thanks to Shelyn for providing, and allowing her this strange and gracious opportunity to celebrate her friend's life in an unusual way.

“And you're going to help me,” declared Amaranth, who grabbed Rune as the changeling tried to walk past her.  Rune yelped, and was easily dragged close to the paladin, who held her in a firm hug.  “For one thing, you smell, despite the cat-baths we all take; and two, I know you care for her enough for it to be called love, even if it's not the love you prefer, you wicked little Callistrian catamite.”

“Amaraaanth,” whined the delicate sorceress, while Pearl walked up behind her.  “I don't feel like beinggGHHIIIYY!”  Rune's complaint quickly became a cry of surprise in her native tongue of gnollish as Pearl stripped her silk tunic from her spare frame.  Rune glared daggers at the tiefling, which is when the aasimar crouched, dragging her silk skirt to the floor, leaving the pale woman bare.  Snarling yips erupted from Rune's lips as she cursed at them both halfheartedly.  

Amaranth admired the sleek youthful body of the changeling.  Despite their ages, the changelings did not seem to age normally.  Most of what made Sigil seem more mature than Rune was simply her height.  Ignoring that, even the tall woman seemed youthful in form, her breasts small and firm, her muscular body lithe rather than powerful like Amaranth's was.  Rune, on the other hand, was positively delicate, and not for the first time Amaranth almost envied her the looks.  There was a faint softness to her slender figure, her frame that of a girl just past her gangling awkwardness and coltish youth.  

Pearl, on the other hand, was fascinated by the other aspect of Rune's life.  

“These are so ~beautiful~,” she breathed, tracing the series of rings that pierced the soft flesh of Rune's labia majora in increments no larger than the width of a child's finger.  The dull brown metal was burnished, and the riveting of them had to have been accomplished with inhuman strength; they were adamantine, and nearly indestructible.  Rune had added delicate silver drops to three of them:  the first, the middle, and the last.  Ignoring Runes blush, she traced the rungs from behind and beneath, her fingertips lightly moving them, teasing at the virgin flesh they held closed.  

Amaranth looked up, studying the silver and gemstone studs that pierced the soft flesh above Rune's sex in a star pattern, and then gently traced her naval piercing, from which hung a heavier ruby and silver dragonet sculpture.  “Is it true,” she asked softly, “what the soldiers say about gnoll women?”  Rune arched under the gentle, careful caresses, and she gasped when Pearl started kissing her way up the smooth skin of her back.  

“....the bigger ones, yes,” Rune answered breathlessly.  “The ones with dark fur and broad shoulders....the slender ones with white fur and stripes, no.  But I was only ever the matriarch's property.  Only they used me like that.”  Amaranth leaned in and kissed the place between studs and rings, drawing another gasp from the decorative woman.  Eventually this flesh would wither and dry; Rune would age in months, becoming more of a withered husk of a child than an old woman.  But for now it was soft and smooth and pale.  “No one was ever allowed that....privilege,” she explained as Amaranth traced the rings that closed Rune off from womanhood. 

“I don't care,” claimed Pearl as she grasped Rune's firm breasts from behind and squeezed them somewhat roughly, pinching and pulling at her aureolae simultaneously, using the bars set into the changeling's nipples to pull firmly.  Rune's knees buckled as she gave a high-pitched squeal and Amaranth caught her, surprised.  “I'll settle for whatever I can give you today.  Sigil said you like it rougher than most, though.”  Pearl's determined look was not quite lust, but a fierce desire to please the changeling sorceress.

Amaranth looked into the changeling's flushed face; Sigil had been correct about that 'roughness'.  The smooth pink teardrop-shaped scars along her shoulders and upper arms spoke of her rough use at the hands of clawed creatures – undoubtedly the gnolls, for the scars were long since healed.  Rune looked up at Amaranth with pleading eyes even as she growled a crude epithet in gnoll.  “I think she's right, and I think you would prefer it,” Amaranth admonished gently, sliding her hand into the delicate woman-child's hair, gripping it tightly, and forcing a hard kiss upon her – because that's what Rune desired.

~XS~

Rune responded with a strangely attentive reluctance.  She kissed forcefully, but there was a hesitance t the effort that spoke of being unused to the act.  Or being forbidden to pursue kisses.  The idea was somewhat bizarre to the paladin; her goddess was fond of all acts of love.  Even, apparently, the strangest of them.  That Rune was unfamiliar with how to kiss was odd to Amaranth.  So she slowed her kiss, softened it.  

It seemed to have the opposite effect; Rune growled under her breath and opened her mouth more, turning her head to force Amaranth's mouth open wide as well.  Then she forced almost the entirety of her tongue into Amaranth's mouth, kissing her far more deeply than anyone had before.  Well, anyone with a tongue as long as Rune's was.  She stroked the length of Amaranth's tongue with her own, and licked the inside of her cheek as well.  Amaranth's eyes widened as Rune reached for her with clawed hands....

Pearl rescued Amaranth from the impending violence by yanking Rune's face away from Amaranths and pulling her head back so she could force a kiss upon the sorceress.  The tiefling proved she was quite capable of manhandling the delicate changeling, her hands sliding under Rune's arms to grip her forehead and throat firmly.  Squirming and whining, Rune struggled a little against the ascetic's grip, but was effectively immobilized.  She gripped the arm about her chest with both hands, but didn't tear into Pearl's arm with her nails. 

Shaken by the slight woman's brutal affection, Amaranth leaned close and slowly caressed Rune's breasts, taking a nipple deep into her mouth and suckling.  Rune arched her back, thrusting her hips towards Amaranth in an effort to push her away, but the paladin was having none of that.  Tracing the silver that pierced the taut nipple with her tongue, Amaranth reached below, and teased at the only truly accessible opening Rune had remaining with her fingertips.

Rune shuddered at the gentle, tender caresses, whining angrily at the softness and the tenderness of them.  Amaranth did not cease, though; as she switched to the other breast she murmured to Pearl, “Do you want to do the honor, or shall I?”  Rune's whining went up an octave, and she started to struggle harder.  

“I will; here, use some of this....”  Her tail whipped around and the spear-like tip dipped into the unguent Amaranth had brought, and was presented to the paladin.  

“Oh, that's an excellent idea.”  Amaranth pulled her fingers back, only to slide them into the slave, and then apply it directly on the tight opening.  She looked up at Rune, the changeling's bright eye shining with both hate and affection while her shattered right pupil and iris pulsed irregularly, not even in time with each other.  Pressing her soft, large breasts to the changeling's small chest, she whispered, “I'm just not rough enough for you, am I, darling?”  Her paired fingers slid deep inside the woman's anus; the muscle tightened, and Rune broke the kiss to deliver a variety of threats in her first tongue.  Pearl laughed and bit Rune's ear firmly, making the sorceress yelp and squirm harder.

Despite her threats, curses, and strange anger, she responded to the intrusion readily, and enthusiastically.  She pressed against the fingers until they were deep inside, and Amaranth smiled as she kissed her way down the woman's belly.  “But you still take what you can get,” the paladin teased, as she began to coat the tight passage in the slick oils.  Amaranth leaned in, and worked her tongue along and between the rings, tasting the faintly salty flavor of the changeling's sex.  

Bot of the woman's hands pushed Amaranth's head away, to her surprise, and she looked up in confusion.  “D-don't; don't do that!” Rune complained.  Her fingers slowing, Amaranth looked quizzically at Rune while Pearl's long tongue slid along her neck and Pearl herself moved lower.  “It doesn't....doesn't feel right,” she complained softly.  Amaranth nodded and drove her fingers deep, causing Rune to fall forward and grab her shoulders.  Her curse was sharp and in gnoll, but she tightened despite that. 

Amaranth slipped her fingers free and stood up, gripping Rune's wrists as she leaned into her for a kiss.  Rune tried to fore another strange, hard kiss, but yelped in shock as Pearl introduced her long, sleek tongue into the tightness of her derriere.  Pearl was holding her rear cheeks firmly apart, and Rune's expression twisted, anger flooding her expression.  Amaranth started to ask what was wrong when Rune's mouth open and she tried to bite Amaranth's neck. 

Amaranth pulled back and gripped Rune's wrists even harder to keep from being clawed, the unnaturally tough flesh resisting injury or pain and therefore her attempt to cow the young-seeming changeling into submission.  A long, wiry arm shot past the paladin's head and gripped Rune's head, fingers an thumb spread wide enough to cover most of the girlish sorceress' forehead.  “Bad Rune,” Sigil murmured huskily.  Rune's teeth clicked together hard, and she make a choked sound as Pearl sat back and pulled her tongue free.

Sigil moved past Amaranth and grabbed Rune by the back of the neck, and Rune made a high pitched, inhuman yip and froze in place, shaking like a frightened child.  Despite the seeming fear Sigil kept her grip tight as she pulled her triplet into an embrace.  “Sorry.  You really do need to be much more rough with her.  I'll take care of her outside.”  The tall witch mumbled something in gnoll that made Pearl's eyebrows shoot up as Sigil took both of Rune's wrist in one hand and guided her out by the back of her neck. 

Amaranth stared after them, and Pearl stood up, moving close to the paladin.  “What did she say?” inquired the aasimar.

Pearl blushed.  “Um....something on the order of 'we can trade places later',” replied the nun, not really willing to give an exact translation as she understood it.  What she said was definitely true, but the implications ranged much further than simple trading of places.  Looking at the paladin she asked cautiously, “I hope that it didn't put you entirely out of the mood?”  Her gentle eyes were soft with worry.  “I didn't think she'd be that vicious, really.”  

The aasimar shook her head.  “Oh, I think I'll recover with a little tenderness.  But we really should get you bathed.”  Pearl smiled, and went to the fireplace to collect the rocks she had originally intended to heat the bath with.  The cold water wouldn't bother her unduly, or the paladin for that matter, but hot water was indeed a luxury to be enjoyed.  As she placed the rocks into the water steam rose from the water instantly, and the water boiled around each of the rocks.  

For her part Amaranth collected the pot of unguent and poured a flask's worth into a bowl, and set it on the edge of the tub.  The pot she placed on the bed, before she undressed herself.  Like the witch, she was strong, but hers was a strength born of long practice and warfare, rather than the unnatural heritage that Sigil possessed.  She was scarred as well, but in no where near the quantity that Sigil was.  Hers were mostly across her upper chest, her lower arms, and her thighs, only single cuts.  Most of the wounds she received from beasts were received in later years, and usually healed through magic which left no scars.  It was a sign of vanity, but a little vanity was allowed to her order; Shelyn was the protector of beauty, after all.  

Pearl, already undressed, was putting the last of the rocks into the tub and swirling the water around to warm it all.  It was a good temperature – the conjured fire of the equally conjured hut heated the rocks quite well.  The heat of the stones was just at the edge of her tolerance, and her hands were red when she glanced at them.  That put to mind the thought of what would be happening in a short while and she shivered, both delighted and anxious.

Amaranth slipped up behind her and embraced the svelte tiefling from behind.  “Drink this; Sigil said it would help.”  Pearl tilted her head back as Amaranth carefully lifted the flask for the other woman.  The paladin smiled and helped Pearl drink the strange fluid, pressed close to her.  Pearls tail shifted and Amaranth gasped as the bony protrusions, softened by the translucent flesh that covered them, slid against her sex.  

“Mmm, sorry, murmured the tiefling, looking a little dazed after consuming the whole flask of unguent.  Her pupils were already wide and huge, and her skin was flushed, which brought out the display of bruises rather nicely in contrast.  

“Don't be,” murmured Amaranth as she set the flask down and caressed the strange, lovely nun slowly and gently.  “I'm not.”  Much as Pearl had kissed Rune, so did Amaranth kiss Pearl, their mouth pressed together far more sweetly and gently than the kisses with the changeling.  Pearl laced her fingers into Amaranth's while the paladin embraced her so she was also embracing herself.  They held hands and kissed for some time, the sharp tang of the unguent flavoring the deep soul kiss. 

Amaranth had to help Pearl into the bath; she was clearly feeling the effects of the drugs in the potent unguent, while Amaranth was not.  The aasimar preferred it that way; Shelyn forgave much, but there were undoubtedly limits.  But joining the tiefling in the tub was sheer pleasure; not just for the sake of hot water, but because Pearl welcomed her with open arms, and drew her into another and even more intimate embrace.  That clever, wicked tail slipped between the paladin's legs, and slid along the line of her sex, parting soft down and warm flesh alike so the knobby bones could ripple along her petals and her own pearl.  

Breathlessly laughing, Amaranth kissed the strange woman deeply, both of them ignoring their antithetical heritages in favor of the friendship and love born of long companionship.  Pearl responded just as enthusiastically as Rune had to Amaranth's personal delight of suckling each small, firm breast, but with far less violence.  The wicked, slithering tail pressed, caressed, rippled, and rubbed as the paladin moved between her lover's legs.  That made the paladin blush, as it had never occurred to her why Pearl often slept hugging her own tail.  

Her laugh made Pearl smile, her bright eyes gleaming pools of darkness.  “My turn, mama,” she murmured, and Amaranth mock-gasped.

“Mama!”  Amaranth laughed as Pearl slid lower, and took as much of the more voluptuous woman's breast in her mouth.  “How ru-ohh....”  Her diatribe was cut off by the sensuous suckling; Pearl laved the woman's nipple and aureole with her long, clever tongue.  That and the rubbing, equally clever tail quickly overwhelmed the paladin and she found herself unable to make any further headway into chastising the tiefling.  Her other breast was not ignored either; not by a hand, only fingers plucking gently at her nipple, a coil of the long tail firmly circling and squeezing, tugging at the soft mound of flesh with each stroke between her legs.  

It didn't take long at all for the tiefling to bring Amaranth to a sudden and rather surprising climax; Pearl's tail was uniquely well suited to pleasure, despite it's sepulchral appearance. Pearl didn't immediately stop.  She let Amaranth ride out the shuddering bursts of pleasure until she was reduced to merely gripping the sides of the copper tub and gasping.  

“Such big breasts,” Pearl claimed as she lounged back in the tub, “should belong to a mother.”  Languidly she ran damp hands through her hair as Amaranth settled against her, kissing her deeply and firmly.  She responded eagerly, but Amaranth broke the kiss. 

“Washing up first,” the paladin ordered, “then to the bed.”  

Washing Pearl was a much more slow and enjoyable process than Amaranth had intended.  Not just because the orgasm (orgasms?  She was never sure; her climaxes seemed to last so long.) had tired her, but because Pearl responded to the bathing in the manner of a sybarite, allowing Amaranth to bathe her and caress her.  It was clear she was still eager, but she was surprisingly patient, caressing, kissing, and rubbing up against Amaranth as the aasimar plied her with hot water, slow scrubbing, and sensual massage alike. 

They both worked on the tiefling's tail; it was nearly six feet long.  But Pearl also used it to caress and stroke Amaranth, going even so far as to wind it around the muscular woman's beasts in a figure eight and squeeze them deliciously.  “So strange you having such an affection for breasts,” murmured Pearl.  Amaranth laughed and said that it was one of the few reasons she liked making love to women, though she generally preferred a handsome man.  

“But I'll happily make a number of exceptions for you,” she cooed into Pearl's ear, her fingers sliding into the tiefling's sex easily as deeply, more cleansing than playing, though the effect was clearly pleasure for the drugged nun.  

Once Pearl had been thoroughly washed, Amaranth picked her up, making the woman squeal in surprise and splashing water all over the floor of the magical house.  Rune or Sigil would clean it magically later, the paladin was sure.  She also hoped that they were enjoying themselves as well.  There were definitely more of Shelyn's blessings in store for the tiefling as far as she was concerned.  

Princess carrying the affectionately nuzzling tiefling to the bed, Amaranth set her down on the edge of the bed with great care.  Pearl forced her to indulge in several kisses and a great deal of petting before she would let go of the beautiful aasimar.  When she finally relented, she watched with sleepy, dark eyes as the rainbow tipped fingers dipped into the salve, and rubbed it over both hands.

Amaranth started with the slender, almost dainty feet of the sickly looking tiefling, stroking the calloused soles firmly, eliciting a delightful moan from her lover.  She didn't just slather it on, either; she caressed, fondled, and rubbed, working it into the warm skin, between her toes, and over her smooth instep.  She even went so far as to lift her other foot and use both thumbs to stroke the firm underside of the tiefling's sole, and teasingly kiss the woman's toes, enjoying the shuddering pleasure it caused Pearl.  Encouraged, Amaranth licked the clean, soft skin of the nun's toes, and was rewarded with surprised gasp.  

When she suckled on Pearl's big toe, the tiefling positively squirmed, both hands pressed tight against her copper-downed sex as she whined in sheer pleasure.  

Finally, she continued her work, coating the tiefling's foot in the salve, and then working her way up the ankle, dipping freely into the slick unguent.  “For an ascetic, you surely love being pleasured, Pearl,” she commented softly, the tiefling's heady panting telling Amaranth how well she was doing.  The paladin worked the unguent into her friends skin, massaging the taut, strong muscles, the smooth, bare skin, the powerful calves.  She'd seen Pearl shatter stones with her bare feet and hands, but relaxed she was mostly as soft and as supple as any young woman might be.

“Not supposed to....but this ritual is an exception, y' know.”  The drugs were clearly working on the nun's senses, and she gasped when Amaranth allowed her fingertips to brush the delicate nether lips.  She practically....no, she DID pout when Amaranth moved back down to her other ankle.  Amaranth placated the tiefling by drawing her tongue along the length of one thigh, as she worked the taut calf muscles, promises of more to come.  “Oh, my God, I really am being served by an angel,” she laughed breathlessly when the warrior lifted her from the bed to cup her derriere and dip her tongue into those hot, slick folds several times, tasting her in a more simple fashion than she would later. 

“Azata blooded only, beautiful,” the adherent of the Goddess of Beauty murmured as she spread the unguent onto the woman's shaking belly.  “Oh, ticklish!  Well, then....”  Amaranth flattened both hands, stroking far more firmly, which brought slow, deep sighs from her lover.  The sighs quickly became excited, sharp gasps when she spread the salve over each breast – right after she licked and gently bit each one, not just nipples, but along the softness of the lower slopes and upper slopes alike.  “You have such firm breasts,” she admitted with admiration.  

Pearl laughed giddily.  “Too much practice....keepin' me slender, like Sigil....rather be rounder, like you,” Pearl claimed enviously.  “'S okay though....oh!”  The slow, harder strokes along each arm brought their breasts into contact, and Amaranth grinned wickedly at Pearl, who whimpered until Amaranth kissed her.  

Amaranth worked the salve into Pearl's hands with as much care – and slow, deliberate suckling of fingers and kisses to soft, warm palms – as she had the delicate feet of the tiefling, and it wasn't long before the woman's tail was twisting and writhing on the bed.  The paladin gently prevented the over-eager tail from slipping anywhere interesting, though she did allow the length to wrap about her waist and hug her firmly.  She helped the delirious nun lay down along the bed, and smeared more of the unguent on her hands  as as she straddled the tiefling's legs.  

“You know, Pearl,” she murmured softly, working the tight, powerful muscles of the nun's back hard, both hands working the unguent into her skin and the tensions from her body, “I would love nothing more than to spend all day making love to you, and worshiping the temple of your body.”  A soft hum was her only vocal response, but the woman's smile was far more knowing.  “But we have your ritual today.  And I am going to participate in that ritual for you, fully and willingly.”  

The huge dark eyes with the bared hint of emerald circling them opened, and Pearl craned her head to smile at Amaranth directly.  “....Yeah?”  

“Yes.”  Amaranth smiled as she massaged, played with the taut bottom of the other woman,which made Pearl's head sink to the bedding as she groaned.  “But first, I am going to give you as much pleasure as you can possibly stand,” she continued, working her thumbs into the tight, deep tissue.  She backed up and then worked her knees between Pearl's legs, forcing the other woman to spread them.  Pearl readily did so, giggling.  Amaranth knelt there, and slowly worked a good amount of the salve over her hand and down her wrist, recalling Sigil's instructions.  “Maybe even more.”  

~XS~

Pearl laughed at that claim.  “I don't think that's possible,” she murmured sleepily, the massage having done wonders for her.  The drugged salve probably had a great deal to do with that as well.  Her tail slid lazily off to one side, twitching as Amaranth rested one hand along the join of thigh to buttock and gently used a thumb to pull the softness of her copper-downed nether lips open.  

She was a surprisingly healthy pink tone, something that Amaranth thought quite odd given the tiefling's unusual qualities.  Two fingers easily slipped deep inside and Pearl pushed her hip up slightly, meeting the gentle intrusion eagerly.  “Still wet,” Amaranth claimed, and she slid her finger free, only to introduce three.  That met with a little resistance, though more at the opening of the tiefling's vaginal canal; her muscles were strong and tight there.

Amaranth smiled and slowly worked her fingers in and out of her lovers tightness, exploring her quite thoroughly; prone as Pearl was, she could feel the soft pad of flesh deep inside, near the hard, slick bump of her inner gate.  When she massaged that sensitive pad of flesh deep inside, Pearl gasped and pushed herself onto her arms, her head bowed low.  A caress against the hard mound of her inner gate made the tiefling whimper.  She could even feel the tight divot that would lead to deeper, more sacred places.  

Rather than torment the woman further just yet, Amaranth applied more salve to her slick fingers, noticing the foamy stickiness of the other woman's arousal.  “So, you're difficult to bring over the edge, are you?”  Pearl nodded silently, relaxing....and then stiffening as the trio of fingers were firmly reintroduced.  Stroking Pearl's lower back until she once more rested her head on her arms, Amaranth continued the slow, gentle massage of Pearl's hot sex, avoiding further touches to the sensitive bump of her cervix.  

Recalling what Pearl had done to Rune, the paladin slicked her other fingers and thumb with salve....and then slowly and firmly started massaging the rosette of her anus, making the tiefling give a shocked noise.  Rolling her hips, Pearl made it obvious that she enjoyed the sensation.  Amaranth obliged by pressing her thumb slowly into the tight opening, carefully penetrating the forbidden place.  Pearl's body tensed tight enough that Amaranth had to stop moving her fingers for fear of hurting the nun; she turned them instead, which brought yet another shocked gasp from the tieflings lips.  

Slipping her thumb free, and certain there would be no unpleasant surprises, Amaranth lowered herself so she way lying between Pearl's legs, her hands above and below the other woman.  The act of pulling her thumb free had brought a disappointed moan from Pearl....but pressing her tongue to that tight opening brought a much more elated moan of pleasure.  She wriggled her fingers, slowly but surely, but her tongue did most of the work now, focusing on that perverse act that Rune had enjoyed so much.  Without the opportunity to tease the tiefling about sharing the sorceress' preference, Amaranth excluded everything but her thorough and deep anilingus, only absently shifting her fingers in the tiefling's near dripping sex.  

It took what felt like forever, but suddenly the tiefling's back arched, and Amaranth could feel the firm, pulsing sensation of the muscle that she was licking and tonguing as well as the powerful contractions around her fingers.  Pearl only made tiny gasping breaths, no loud cries or screams as she came for her lover; a holdover from the convent, undoubtedly, amaranth thought with a smile as she removed her tongue and ran her other thumb along the tightness that worked to push her fingers out.  

“That's a good little daemon,” she whispered.  “Let it go, let it all go....”  Pearl shuddered violently as her orgasm began to wind down.  Falling face first to the bed, Amaranth traced shapes of love-symbols along her lower back, not removing her fingers.  The contractions were slowing, and with them the tight muscles that worked so hard to prevent further penetration were also relaxing.  “That was difficult for you, wasn't it?”  

Pearl didn't raise her head from the bedding, her face half hidden by rumpled sheets and her arms.  Amaranth smiled sympathetically, and kissed the woman's buttocks lightly....and then firmly pushed her tented fingers deeper into the soft, wet, and now relaxed heat of Pearl's sex.  

Even as Pearl started to tense, Amaranth was using the power granted by her Goddess, healing the injury she inflicted even as it was caused.  Pearl cried out in momentary pain as her love's knuckles pushed and forced the tightness of her sex open painfully – and then there was nothing but soothing heat along what should have been wounded flesh and aching, perhaps torn muscles.

Gasping for breath, the sensation of having Amaranth's entire hand inside her was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.  The fullness of her sex, the sensation that even the tiniest of movements engendered in her body, the slow careful caresses within her center; all thing she could barely imagine.  The gasps became hot, desperate pants when Amaranth pushed  three fingers into the tight ring of her anus as well, slick with salve already.  “Oh, oh God, please....”

Amaranth did not let her finish, purposefully keeping the question of whether it was protest or plea unknown.  “Would you like to feel that again?  A touch of the pain to come, and the healing of our love?”  Amaranth's and her Goddess' is what she meant, though perhaps it could include the strange sisters as well.  “Just a second of pain, then....” She slowly twisted her hand inside the woman's flesh, and Pearl half collapsed to the bed, resting on her elbows rather than her hands.  The shock of pleasure made her muscles tighten, and Amaranth cooed at Pearl happily.  “Oh, that was nice....”  A lick from tight right to the base of Pearl's writhing tail caused another tightening, and she slid the fingers in and out more eagerly.  “Please say yes for me.”

Pearl said exactly nothing; he could only manage the briefest of nods, her breaths were so quick and desperate now.  The paladin pressed, firmly and slowly and Pearl's mouth opened, preparatory to a scream.  Golden heat flowed from the warmth of Amaranth's hands, and Pearl's back arched, her tail lashing wildly enough that Amaranth ducked her head to avoid getting swatted by the bony length.  She pushed harder, and expended even more power, and her other hand finally slipped inside.  Pearl did scream then, but it was pure pleasure that drove it, the sensation of being entirely and utterly filled by her lover's hands overwhelming whatever resistance to her own pleasure she'd built up over years of ascetic discipline.  

Even as Pearl climaxed, Amaranth gently and slowly pulled and pushed with her hands, mere inches, yes, but more than enough to drive the poor woman wild, and keep her orgasmic bliss from ending quickly.  Kisses upon the soft rear and light love bites brought new and interesting noises from the tiefling's lips as her climaxes blurred together.  The paladin managed to keep her in ecstasy for long enough that she finally collapsed in exhaustion.  

It took the aasimar a lot longer to gently remove her hands than it had to insert them; She didn't want to hurt the poor woman any more, and every movement caused her body to tighten fiercely about her hands.  Still, with patience and care she finally extricated her hands from the woman' soft flesh, forbidden and not.  After cleansing her hands with conjured water and a cloth, Amaranth crawled into the bed, and was greeted with a fierce hug and soft, eager kisses.  Embracing her beloved friend, Amaranth kissed back eagerly, amused that Pearl had enough energy to manage even that amount of movement.  

“There there beautiful....it was a long time in coming, and I am glad that you let me give you this,” she purred into Pearl's ear, as the tiefling nuzzled her neck and breasts lovingly.  “I do love you so, my dear friend, my sweet Pearl.”  The dark eyes were even more dazed than before, and Pearl was clearly bespelled by the potent unguent.  

Despite that she half slithered, half crawled backwards along Amaranth's body kissing, nipping caressing.  Amaranth was bemused at first, but the nun's hands gripped her thighs and forced them apart.  “You needn't doOMYGODDESSHELP!”  Her shocked cry was truly brought about by shock, though there was pleasure as well; the pleasure did not override the shock in this peculiar instance. 

Amaranth knew the tiefling had a clever tongue.  She had not been aware that it was nearly a foot and a half long until the whole thing was forcibly introduced into her own sex.  

Instinctively she had pressed both hands to Pearl's head, forcing her away from the silver-white down between her legs, and the squirming, eager length of the nun's tongue followed....and still didn't slip free of her slippery folds.  Amaranth could feel it deep inside her, and while she was far less shallow and tight than her lover had been, the volume of hot tongue inside her sex was still far too much to be natural.  Green-ringed pools of darkness gazed up at Amaranth with vast amusement, and the sensation of the coiling, writhing flesh in her sex became even more intense.  

Acquiescing to Pearl's desire, the paladin finally lowered her hands, gripping the bed tightly as a whimper escaping her lips.  Pearl pressed her mouth to the heat of the aasimar's slit, nuzzling lovingly as she did impossible things to the heated flesh of the Shelyn-worshiper's body. It was only minutes before Pearl had Amaranth crying out, then screaming as she literally licked every part of the woman's femininity at the same time. 

When Pearl crawled up Amaranth's body to lay atop her, the paladin could do little more than drape her arms about the woman's shoulders.  “Where,” Amaranth asked breathlessly, “where do....do you keep....all of THAT?”  She'd never been aware of the abnormality, though at the moment she wished she'd known a long time ago.  

“Same place you keep yours,” replied Pearl softly, breathing heavily and enjoying the drugged lassitude that was falling over her after the bliss of their lovemaking.  “Just more so.”  She had no real understanding, of it herself.  They kissed, but the out-of-breath paladin had to break from the kiss sooner than she wanted.  “Thank you, Amaranth.  Thank you for this.  All of this.”  The tiefling smiled at her beautiful lover, marveling at her luck.  

Amaranth shook her head, and whispered softly, “It really was my pleasure, Pearl, to give you this pleasure, and my love.”  There was a moment's pause, before she added, “And I would be happy, if you considered my love to be yours as long as you desire it.”  

Pearl's drug-darkened eyes widened.  “Truly?”  

“Truly.”  

Pearl sighed happily.  “Then you may be happy, Amaranth.” 

After a short while, Sigil slipped inside.  Amaranth and Pearl were just stirring, and the paladin suspected that a small dragonet had been keeping an eye on them for just such timing to be so perfect.  “It is time,” she murmured, her moon-eyed gaze taking in not just the exhaustion and relaxation of the twain, but the new closeness they shared, the intimate, gentle touches, the deeper, longer eye contact between them.  

It was a good thing for them both, Sigil, believed.  Symbol agreed, but considered the process quite messy.

The bonfire was no longer roaring; it was a pit of coals eight feet long and five across.  The coals were edged with white, and glowed an orange brighter than the sun at rise.  Even from several feet away one could feel the powerful heat.  Amaranth had dressed in her soft, clean linens, but Pearl remained skyclad.  Rune was curled up on a large, soft blanket in the grass by the house, a simple bolt of black silk draped across her otherwise nude body.  She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. 

Sigil was dressed in her leathers once more, but remained barefoot, and had discarded most of what little jewelry she wore.  Another blanket was laid across a long stone that she had apparently dragged by herself to serve as a table – or rather, as an altar.  Pearl shivered in strange anticipation as she saw the length of fire-hardened oak that waited upon that altar.  There was also a large waterproof bag that was clearly full of liquid.  Amaranth was confused by the lack of a knife at first.

Gesturing Pearl to the table, Sigil took a dipper and sank it into a thick, shimmering liquid.  This she poured slowly over the tiefling, the steaming water cascading down the bruised, pale flesh of the daemon-blooded woman.  It steamed a great deal, bu the tiefling's skin did not even redden.  Turning to Amaranth the tall witch asked, “Come help.”  

Obediently, Amaranth took the dipper and started repeating the pouring motions.  As she did so, Sigil reached up with both hands and slowly caressed Pearl's head and hair, stroking and petting her.  Pearl hummed in pleasure, but it was quickly apparent that this odd act served a very real purpose: as the boiling water sluiced down Pearls frame, swaths of her beautiful copper curls followed.  Sigil's claws sheared the beautiful red hair right to her soft skin, and Amaranth felt a pang at the loss.  Though the loss of her eyebrows at first gave a touch of strangeness to the woman's appearance, somehow her bone horns made her seem normal looking despite her lack of hair.  

Sigil's hands moved lower, and gently massaged and stroked the softness of Pearl's pudenda, making the woman giggle and squirm.  Sigil smiled at Pearl, and cupped her cheek, but here too those sharp claws did their work.  Amaranth felt an odd frisson of desire, seeing the woman's sex bared, the delicate nether lips protruding just slightly from the slit of her feminine places, suggestive in a way that seemed forbidden.  It looked different upon Pearl than it did for Sigil or Rune, the sisters' youthful nature making it seem more natural and less alluring perhaps. 

Seeing Amaranth's interest, Sigil smiled.  “It takes much work to achieve such a smooth appearance.  But if it interests you, I do not mind the effort.”  Amaranth finsihed the last few rinses, and Pearl shivered a little, but her shy smile encouraged the paladin.  

“I think it might be interesting to explore, at another time,” she admitted.  Pearl blushed deeply....and then gasped as rich brown liquid pored across her head and shoulders, clinging like syrup. The smell hit Amaranth's nose seconds later.  It WAS syrup.  A sticky sauce of spices and molasses, hot enough to run like water as Sigil offered Amaranth a stiff bristled brush.

Together Amaranth and Sigil painted the tiefling, who turned and squirmed alike as they basted her with the hot liquid.  She smelled delicious, Amaranth had to admit; at the very least Sigil knew what she was doing where sauces and marinades were concerned.  When they had completed the basting, every part of the pale woman's body from tip of horns to tip of tail to tops of feet coated in the rich liquid, Sigil and Perl bowed their heads in prayer.  

“To serve is a joy, to succor is to gain~
To suffer is life, to persevere is to remain~
Sins must be paid for in agony and pain~
We offer this payment to undo the stain.”

The next litany was in a language Amaranth was not familiar with, but their reverence she respected and she bowed her head, remaining silent.  Rather, outwardly silent; she made her own prayer, thanking her Goddess for the beauty and love she'd been gifted to share with and experience with Pearl, Sigil and Rune, and that she be allowed to experience, created, and give more in the days to come.  She also thanked Shelyn for the kindness of granting her permission to protect and help her friend through these trials and the ones to come, and to share in the beauty of being allowed to become one with her friend. 

She also made a reminder for herself to make several Zon-Zon dolls as well, after.  It seemed appropriate. 

Finally, Sigil helped Pearl limb onto the rock, and laid her out on the blanket.  The syrup, rater than becoming a coating, seemed to have sunk into Pearl's skin, and she was clearly uncomfortable with it, though now her pupils were pinpoints in oceans of bright emerald.  Amaranth walked over, and sat next to her beloved friend, stroking her now-bare brow and the smooth polish of her horns.  Pearl smiled shyly and laced her fingers with Amaranth's other hand.

Sigil lifted the pole she'd carved and cured, and sat opposite Amaranth.  Pearl looked up at her calmly, fearless, despite what could only be expected to be terrible pain.  “Last time, there was so much we did not know, and there were things we could not manage.  This time, it will be less painful and we will help you with the efforts so that you may experience the full measure of our God's will and suffering, Mistress Pearl.  May we do this for you, as you have asked of us?”  

The delicate fingers tightened in Amaranth's grasp, but Pearl's voice was steady.  “You may.”  

Sigil nodded slowly.  “Amaranth will spit you; I will help her by opening the way for marinade, but also to ensure the spit does not pierce your flesh.  Do you understand?”  Amaranth shivered.  She had not expected to assist in this; but with Rune unconscious, and if it would minimize her lover's discomfort, she would do it.  Pearl nodded, her eyes bright and wide her body limp upon th stone, utterly relaxed.  Relaxed so much that there was a stream of wetness that extended between her spread legs.  

The with had apparently planned for that, because the tilt of the stone was such that Pearl's lack of control was directed away from her legs and skin alike.  Sigil nodded seriously to Amaranth, who lifted her lover's hand and kissed the delicate knuckles lightly.  She made sure to place her hand upon the rock; despite the warm smile se received, the tiefling's strength had left her entirely.  

Rising, both women met at the end of the stone, and looked up the tiefling's supine, naked, painted form.  “What I will ask you to do, is to press slowly and firmly.  Not quickly; I will help guide the shaft through her body, from her bottom to her mouth.”  Amaranth nodded at the husky, soft voice of the strange changeling witch.

“But what about....well, her filth?”  That was one thing she was concerned with.  Normally you gutted an animal you were cooking.  

Sigil smiled strangely. “Tiefling bodies are more efficient than most others, and the drugs have made certain her body is that much more so.  There will be none.”  Amaranth nodded and took a deep breath.  “Also, remember, she is going to be in an ecstasy; the pain she suffers will not be truly pain, nor pleasure, but it will seem like both to her.”  Amaranth nodded again and took a deep breath.  Sigil saw the concern in her eyes, and leaned close to whisper, “I will help you, and her, to make it as gentle as possible.”  

That promise helped the paladin steel herself, and she moved between her lover's legs once more, this time looking upon her smooth belly, her firm breasts, her placid, dream-lost expression and eyes so bright a green they nearly glowed in the sunlight.  It helped to remember the pleasure the woman had taken in being penetrated before, as she placed the conical end of the wrist thick shaft against her derriere's opening.  Pearl clearly remembered a well, for a beatific smile graced her lips as she lay waiting.  

Sigil moved up higher on the rock, kneeling next to Pearl.  She reached between the nuns legs and guided the shaft for Amaranth, and when she nodded, the paladin pressed, slowly and firmly.  The drugs Sigil had given the tiefling to relax her worked wonders; the shaft slipped into Pearl's anus easily, assisted by the unguents Sigil had asked Amaranth to apply so deeply.   Soft, low moan slipped from Pearl's lips, followed by a sharp intake of breath as Sigil pressed her claws into the young woman's belly, piercing Pearl's strange flesh with the claws of her birthright.  

Her face a mask of concentration, the witch explored she soft, warm flesh of Amaranth's lover intimately, perhaps even more so than Amaranth herself had.  First the loose, soft coils of her intestines.  Then the soft, warm firmness of her womb; the now empty balloon of her bladder; the delicate, soft masses of her ovaries.  Then deeper to the larger, firmer coils of her bowels.  As she'd suspected, they were entirely empty, mouth to bottom, and they were far less complicated than a human's would be.  Sigil and Rune had discovered that before.

With a brief nod and smile, she encouraged Amaranth to continue.  So Amaranth did; she slowly pushed the thick shaft deeper, stretching her lover's rear opening wider, making the nun moan in pleasure, though she hardly twitched.  Sigil's magic prevented the wounds from bleeding freely, allowing her to stroke and push at the strange wondrous mysteries within the warrior-nun's body to allow the shaft to penetrate deeper and deeper into her soft delicate bowels.  The deeper the shaft moved, the faster Sigil worked, her hands moving up the moaning twitching woman's abdomen, piercing her flesh again and again, sliding the slick innards over the encroaching stave.  

Amaranth had to concentrate on her work, for the way Pearl moved over the intruding pole was nothing less than sensual.  She took more and more of the thick spit into her body, and moaned and writhed; her voice became higher pitched and she started gasping as Sigil helped the needle thread the woman.

Silently, Rune, wearing only a thin black shift and her many jewels, stepped up.  She hefted the bag of liquid, and unlaced the corner of it.  Thick liquid, salty and spicy, spilled slowly from the end, into the holes that now decorated Pearl's belly.  Pearl shuddered, and Amaranth and Sigil were both forced to pause in their work.  Rune did not; she poured until the liquid spilled from the openings nearest the one she poured into, and then moved to the next unfilled openings.  

Wen the ascetic stopped moving, Amaranth pushed further, and she moaned, gasping in near sexual abandon.  While she couldn't move, her body twitched; Amaranth, so close to her sex, could see the wetness of her that was not spilled gold now but instead her pale, sexual heat.  The paladin pressed and the witch guided further, until they were past the belly and stomach.

Sigil moved up and tilted the ecstatic Pearl's head back, as she quivered helplessly, unable to writhe in her masochistic sexual release.  Finally the point of the spit slid slowly out the woman's mouth and she shuddered again.  Amaranth pushed further until an equal length extended front and back.  Then she leaned close, and ran her tongue along her lover's denuded slit, tasting of her pleasure.

Pearl shook and choked, her hands quivering her toes curling as Amaranth slipped her soft, hot tongue into the warm, slick heat of her sex, explored and tasted.  Pleasured her, and made her body writhe as much as she was able.  Rune finished her work, and watched, almost curious as to the effort that Amaranth was putting in her oral pleasure of Pearl.  Sigil smiled and took the back, and slowly sliced deep cuts along the woman's ribs, and pushed more of the marinades and sauces into her helpless flesh.

When Pearl made shocked, choking, desperate noises, Amaranth relented.  Rune looked up and asked softly, “Does that really create so much pleasure?”  Amaranth smiled and took Rune's fingers, and gently pushed them into the pulsing channel of Pearl's sex, allowing her to feel the climax that the helpless woman was experiencing.  

Absently Rune liked her fingers clean, her expression thoughtful.  Sigil smiled to herself as she took her position at the head of the spit, while Amaranth automatically took hers at the bottom end.  When the war-witch and the paladin lifted their willing victim from the makeshift table, Rune quickly bound her arms and legs to her sides with lengths of thin wire.  A guttural, shallow noise erupted from the quivering nun as Rune then looped her tail around and around the pole....and then secured it in place through the simple expedient of slowly inserting the spade of Pearl's tail deep into her own vagina.  That made her squirm more, and not entirely in pain. 

Finally, Amaranth and Sigil walked the pole and it's burden of living flesh to the pit of searing coals  Even a few feet away Amaranth started to sweat immediately and Sigil was not much better off.  The Pearl moaned around the thick pole and wriggled helplessly as the heat washed over her basted and marinaded body.  Sigil pulled a plug from the shaft, and slid a bar through it which she then attached to a handle.  At last she turned to Amaranth.  “Would you like to begin.”  

Amaranth blushed, not really knowing why, but she nodded her agreement.  She and Sigil would have to take turns; Rune simply wasn't strong enough for this duty.  So she walked to where Sigil had crafted a stool, and took her place near her lover's head.  She began turning the spit, watching her lover's flesh begin to slowly roast over the inferno of coals.  Sigil and Rune cleaned up their blankets and went into the house to bathe.  

Trapped and unable to move, only the simplest of noises escaping her throat, Pearl was unable to do anything but experience the slow deep heat pervading her body, the sensation of the liquids flowing back and forth inside her and the huge shaft piercing her abused and tender body.  But then Amaranth began to sing to her, soft, beautiful melodies, gifts to her goddess.  The aasimar watched over her lovely and violated and yet still beautiful friend, and sang for her, told her stories, and made loving, wicked suggestions for when they next met in the flesh, whole and free to act upon the desires she felt for Pearl.  

Rune would often come by and paint the cooking flesh of the nun with spices, the savory sauces, and often just play the brush across her slender arms, firm breasts, and bare sex, teasing and plying.  When Sigil took her turn, she too spoke to the tiefling, telling her of wonders she'd seen, things Rune had shown her, and parables she'd heard of their shared God.  

The martyr's soft flesh slowly roasted, split, juices flowing upon the fire to spill in hissing steam.  Between her faith and the drugs she did not scream, though there was undoubtedly pain mixed deep with the pleasures of self-sacrifice (and Rune's wicked work with the basting brushes).  It was while Amaranth was turning the spit, nearly three hours later, that the light in the tiefling's eyes started to fade; she called Sigil over, and Rune quickly joined them.  

Sigil called to Pearl, and the tiefling's eyes opened slowly; she was blind, but it was enough to show she lived and heard.  “Thank you, for your sacrifice; I promise I will restore you to life when we can take vengeance upon Glyph.”  Then she took Amaranth's place, turning the spit, while Rune stood as close to the fire as she dared.  

“Thank you, for your understanding, and your willingness to give me the respect few would.”  A soft sigh seemed to relieve the tension Rune felt at admitting the vulnerability.  She then stepped aside for Amaranth.  

“Thank you, for your love, and reminding me of the beautiful things I have missed.  I will see you soon, my beloved Pearl.”  Amaranth stepped back, as the light completely faded from the tiefling's glassy eyes.  

Rune started to say something, and from her expression it would have been quite sarcastic, but a glance from her sister silenced her.  Amaranth walked down the hill a ways, to draw another sunset, and to both grieve for, and exult in, her lover.  

Hours later the coals were near death, and the scent of sweet and savory spices filled the air around the house.  Amaranth and Sigil had maintained their vigil and work, and now the result of their work was spread upon the table in the conjured hut.  There were tubers, sharproot-and-leaf salad, and rich wine; each of the three remaining warriors sat quietly.  Even Rune was sedate and silent, as respectful of their friend's sacrifice as Amaranth and Sigil were.  The flesh had been stripped from the bones, the lesser organs discarded and buried, and the great ones set upon a plate for each of them.

For Amaranth, the heart of her brave lover.

For Rune, her sacred womb to sooth a troubled mind.

For Sigil, the rich liver to strengthen claw and blood.

The bones and horned skull were set aside, wrapped in chamois and protected with spell and ward.  

When their silent respect for Pearl was complete, they began eating and soon they were laughing and talking, sharing grand stories of their brave, wise friend.  Amaranth looked forward to seeing her again and it was clear to her that Rune and sigil would be happier when they were reunited as well.  As she took a bite of the martyred flesh, she smiled, and considered how tender hearted her beloved was.  

~XS~

In a strange place, beautiful and quiet, Shelyn shook her head.  “I can't believe you actually managed that,” she complained, her melodic voice soft and warm despite the implied reprimand.  “I was certain I would have to forsake her.”

Callistria laughed softly, playing with a lock of Shelyn's hair.  “I told you that your brother angered me.  How better to revenge myself upon him than turning a sacrifice to one of his lesser cults into a thing of beautiful sacrifice for love itself?”  Leaning closer, she murmured her lips caressing the other goddess' ear.  “Tell me I did well.”

The beautiful deity turned to face her rival and playmate, and breathed into her mouth soft, sweetly perfumed words. “You did well,” she admitted, proving it with the kiss they had bet. 

~End.
XS