Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8773657.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Character:
      Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Male_Character(s), Original_Child
      Character(s), Original_Demon_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Torture, Snuff, Mind_Control, Parent/Child
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Execution, Rituals, Revenge, Magic, Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-06 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 8814
****** Saint's Blood ******
by Shadowstrider
Summary
     The blood of saints gave immense strength to the weapons of the
     Inquisition in the Kingdom of Torvith, but this strength could easily
     be corrupted if the wielder strayed form the path into darkness,
     enabling demons to unleash their wickedness on the world.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Holy Dagger *****
Jacques kneeled in prayer, his words a soft whisper as he sought power and
guidance. Hearing the trumpets from outside, he finished his plea and stood up,
swirling his robe behind him as he marched from the altar to the church doors.
He pushed the heavy wooden doors open, shielding his eyes from the glare of the
sunlight. Moving swiftly, he ascended the steps leading onto the wooden
platform that had been erected in the middle of the town square. With the
church at his back, he stepped to the edge of the platform, taking a deep
breath before trying to dampen the murmuring from the town’s residents spread
out in front of him.
Holding up his hands, he waited until the excited murmuring had died down.
“Dear residents, I am Chief Inquisitor Val-Roy,” he said. At this the murmuring
flared up, so he was forced to hold his hands up again, until it was reasonably
quite again. “It is my unfortunate duty that I must inform you that great evil
has been done in this town. As servants of the light, it is our duty to root
out evil, which means that measures such as this are necessary,” he continued,
sweeping his arms to indicate the platform.
Three wooden poles were vertically erected on the platform, forming a straight
line parallel to the crowd. Each of these poles had two smaller poles attached
as crossbeams, one near the platform and one near the top of the pole. Attached
to the end of these crossbeams were strong ropes, which in turn were tied near
the ends of a limb, resulting in three people tied spread-eagled. All of them
were naked, a fate reserved for the worst of offenders. Each one was gagged
with cloth and rope, as well as having a metallic bracelet attached on each
limb near where the ropes were tied. In front of the middle pole stood a large
brazier filled with blessed fire. Around the platform stood 10 men-at-arms,
armoured and armed, keeping the crowd a distance from the platform.
Standing to the right of the middle pole and indicating the pole to his right,
Jacques again addressed the crowd: “Elaine Resye, 8 winters old, was observed
yesterday in the market casting a spell by 5 witnesses, causing the food of a
vendor to rot. As such she was found guilty of practicing magic, aggravated by
using it in a malicious manner. The sentence is purification of her body and
the return of her soul to the Guardian of Light for judgement.”
Anxious conversation broke out amongst the crowd, so he added: “Do not be
afraid, each of the condemned has been fitted with bracelets that suppress
magic. These villains cannot cast magic while they are attached to their
limbs.”
Turning to his left, indicating the middle pole, he continued: “Mara Resye, 25
winters old, mother of Elaine. Mother of a witch, who tried to intervene in the
arrest of her daughter. As such she is found guilty of supporting the practice
of magic, hiding a witch from authorities, fornication with a demon to breed a
witch, giving birth to a witch and keeping a guard from doing his duties. The
sentence is purification of her body and the return of her soul to the Guardian
of Light for judgement.”
He moved to the last pole, gesturing to it as he spoke: “Thomas Resye, 9
winters old, son of Mara. As he is the brother of a witch and the son of a
witch breeder, he is found guilty of supporting the practice of magic. Due to
his heritage, the possibility of him committing evil is so great that he is
sentenced to purification of his body and the return of his soul to the
Guardian of Light for judgement.”
To the left of the platform was a similar structure on which the important
guests sat. Count var Tegan and his family were present, as was the local
bishop and a few members of the town council. Giving a bow to the count,
Jacques asked: “My lord, do I have your approval to carry these sentences out?”
The Count rose from his chair. “By the authority invested in me by His Majesty,
I authorise the Chief Inquisitor to do as necessary to cleanse this town of
evil,” he said. The assembled crowd voiced their approval.
Jacques suppressed a smile as he turned away from the Count. The Val-Roy family
was known as great paladins, vanquishers of evil. His cousins had gotten all of
the titles and wealth, while he had been forced into the clergy. Years he had
toiled and now for these last 2 years he had been given the authority to wipe
out the evil infesting the kingdom. Soon he would stand above his family, his
glory etched into history.
One of his attendants came to him, carrying a chest. Jacques opened it,
removing the dagger within. Holding it reverently, he again addressed the
crowd: “this blade, impregnated with the blood of a holy saint and blessed by
the Guardian of Light, is the only tool that can ensure the cleansing of evil
magic.” It truly was a sign of the favour he now enjoyed, a sacred blade, its
use authorised by the Lord Cleric himself.
Turning to the condemned, he noticed that all of them were sobbing. The thrill
of the event had it to escape him, but he wouldn’t fall for the tricks of
demon-spawn and fornicating whores. Taking a moment to steady himself, he
approached the boy. Taking the small hairless penis into his palm, he softly
gave it a few tugs, the organ responding despite the boy’s terror. Judging the
boy to have reached his full erection, he next cradled the boy’s small
testicles, while his attendant tied a ring of fine rope over the base of the
penis, keeping it blood-engorged. Crushing the testicles with his fist, he
yanked downwards and severed the sack from the boy. The boy gave a muffled cry
of agony, jerking against his bonds. His overwhelmed body tried to ejaculate,
but could not produce any fluids. Blood spurted from his wound, but this was
quickly cauterised by the attendant, using iron warmed by the brazier.
“No more evil seed shall be produced, no more evil bred,” announced Jacques as
he held the sack for the crowd to see and then let it drop into the brazier.
Moving back to the boy, he severed his penis, sending the boy into another
fruitless spasm. “No innocent virgin shall be defiled; no sodomy shall blight
this town.” The boy’s penis met the same fiery end as his testicles, the
attendant taking care of the wound.
The boy’s two hands met the same fate. “No more magic and murder performed by
wicked hands.” A quick slice and his tongue was removed, the boy unable to say
anything in the precious seconds after he was ungagged. “No more evil
incantations and dark plots whispered in the night.”
Taking a few breaths to calm himself down from the excitement coursing through
his body, the smell of burning flesh and cauterised wounds filling his
nostrils, he readied himself for the next task. He was satisfied by the
strength of the invigoration potion that had been administered to the captives.
None of them would fade before he personally broke their earthly bonds. That
being said, he didn’t want to take chances and would need to move quickly for
the next part. Jacques used to enchanted blade to remove the top of the boy’s
skull, disposing of the boy’s dark hair, quickly followed by slicing through
the sternum and pale hairless chest of the boy to expose his heart. Deftly he
cut the heart out, crushed it in front of the boy’s eyes, as blood spurted
wildly, and then dropped it into the brazier. “The gift of a heart is wasted on
the servants of the dark.” He quickly ripped the boy’s brain out before
reaching down and grasping the boy’s chin, turning it to him he saw the light
leave the boy’s emerald eyes, while the body gave a last few jerks. The brain
sizzled as he announced: “No more deviant thoughts or perverse lusts.”
Finishing off, he removed the boy’s eyes and disposed of them in the fire. “The
eyes are the gate to the soul and this deviant soul is now reunited with the
Guardian of Light! Thomas Resye is purified!”
There was an enormous roar of celebration from the crowd. The distinguished
guests added their own applause. Giddy with joy, although not showing it on his
face, Jacques readied himself to continue his divine mission.
Moving to the mother, he rubbed her clitoris softly in order to get it ready
for removal. He could see the horrified anticipation in her eyes. Grasping and
slicing it off, he sent her into agony. Adding it to the brazier, he announced:
“No more sinful pleasure.” He took a blessed mace from his attendant, ramming
it into her blond hair adorned vagina, destroying her genitalia as the spike
ripped her soft flesh to shreds. Giving the mace back and returning the sacred
dagger to his hand from his belt, he replicated the purification he had done to
her son’s hands and tongue on her own.
Two firm breasts adorned her chest. They were more than a handful each, capped
with an erect pink nipple. Pulling the right breast taunt, he sliced the fatty
lump off in a clean stroke. Handing it to his attendant, he did the same to the
other breast. With his attendant’s help, both were soon in the fire. “No more
inviting the perversion of demons, no more nursing witches.” As his attendant
dealt with the new wounds, Jacques proceeded to remove the top of her skull.
Having discarded the bony plate with the long blond hair attached, he took the
dagger and split her open from the bottom of her throat to her pelvis, cutting
through her flat abdomen. His attendant helped to get the slithering ropes of
intestine out of the way in order for Jacques to get to her womb. With
practiced cuts he removed it from her pelvis, crushing the ovaries in front of
her horrified blue eyes. Adding the uterus to the fire, he announced: “The gift
of motherhood, betrayed to breed evil witches. No more!” Her sternum gave way
easily to the enchanted blade, her heart giving desperate beats. Like her son,
her heart, brain and eyes were removed and purified. Like her son, the last
thing she saw was the monster carving her up.
Having announced the purification of the whore that had fornicated with demons,
he turned to the girl. She looked so innocent, soft golden hair blowing in the
breeze, pale blue eyes delirious with fear, face wet with tears, flat chest
with tiny pale pink nipples breathing desperately, soft abdomen leading to a
hairless slit disappearing between her skinny legs. When evil was in this form,
he understood how so many were tempted down the path of evil. Which is why
destroying this demon-spawn would be sending a message to the servants of the
dark that these tricks would no longer work. As bad as the fornicating whore
had been, this one was an agent of evil, a vile practiser of magic. He would
need to destroy her completely. Most of the time he spent in prayer had been
trying to find a way to rip this evil to shreds. They tried and tested ritual
he had done up until now just wouldn’t cut it. He needed to purify her from the
inside out.
Luckily the local bishop’s guards had happened to bring along some of the items
that he required. Anticipating what was about to happen, he felt his penis
stiffen inside the confines of his trousers. He smiled at the terrified child;
the evil effect on his body would not deter him. With righteousness flowing
through him, he split her nipples and her clitoris. The child danced with
spasms, her screeching barely dampened by the gag. Motioning to the side, one
of the bishop’s guards brought a big chest. Laying it at Jacques’s feet, he
opened it to reveal Fire Orbs. Each sphere was filled with fire from the Sacred
Hearth in the Great Cathedral, made ready with the first human touch and
activated by a prayer. Usually used to burn through closed buildings and the
written incantations for field effect spells, they would serve him well.
Convincing the Bishop to part with these very rare tools had been difficult
until the Bishop himself had felt the evil effect on his groin from the girl.
With the guard holding the girl still, Jacques kneeled behind the girl, viewing
her spread buttocks and her winking anus. He used the dagger to cut through the
muscle of the ring of her anus, causing it to dilate. Grasping an orb in his
fist, he rammed the fist through her anus into her rectum. The witch’s small
body and tight orifice made it difficult, but he forced the orb up as far as he
could into her bowels. With his attendant handing him orbs and alternating
fists, he soon forced 3 orbs into her bowels, using thin rope attached to hooks
to close the orifice enough to keep the orbs in.
Moving around until he was kneeling in front of her vagina, he observed the
soft pink of the interior as he spread open her labia. The dagger tore through
her hymen, before he forced his fingers into her vagina, finally getting a fist
in at the expense of a lot of tearing of her walls. Using his fist he
mercilessly opened the passage to her cervix. Slipping fingers and then a fist
through the cervix, he vigorously moved his arm in order to dilate a new home
for the orbs. In short order he had given 4 orbs a new home, binding the
orifice like her anus.
He removed the top of her skull and cut off her hands. He opened her with the
dagger from between her split nipples to her umbilicus. Cutting out a chunk of
intestine, he inserted two orbs and her hands into her abdominal cavity.
Splitting four ribs on the right side of her sternum, he shoved an orb into the
space between her lung and her heart. Quickly the attendant helped him to close
the cut as with the previous orifices, although this one needed a lot more
work. These improvised sutures were of little use except to keep the orbs
inside enough for her to be stuffed. With one orb nestled on the fissure
between the halves of her brain and two shoved down her throat; she was finally
ready to be purified.
His body was yearning to ejaculate as he said the prayer. “Cleanse this earth
with the fire of purity.” The moment he finished, the girl went wild as the
fire spread through her. Predictably, the improvised sutures gave way
immediately, fire spilling from her chest, abdomen and pelvis; but the damage
had been done. Her rectum and womb melted in a sea of fire, her ovaries
following shortly. Her pelvis cooked to nothing as her thighs were consumed.
Her heart spewed blood as it cooked, her lungs desperately inflating and
deflating even with airway first blocked and then burnt away. Her hands and
abdominal organs burned to sludge, poured from her abdominal wound. Her neck
burnt away as the fire consumed her brain, agony becoming pleasure becoming
nothing become pain as her mind withered.
Jacques rushed until he was almost against her, freeing his penis to ejaculate
strings of warm semen into her eyes as they were consumed by liquid fire. The
last thing she saw was the penis jerking like a festival cannon, splashing her
with fireworks. Deftly sidestepping the pool of fire that was once a girl, he
placed his penis back into his trousers, the glow of orgasm and righteousness
burning his nerves. His soul was in ecstasy, this was the pinnacle of his work,
the complete destruction of evil.
Taking a moment to compose himself, he addressed the crowd: “The witch has been
purified, the town has been cleansed!” Thunderous applause echoed across the
square, the crowd driven by the destruction they had just seen.
END of Chapter
***** Defilement *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The town square was quiet, the crescent moon casting little illumination. A
lonely figure stood on the wooden platform that had been the scene for the
execution of the Resye family that afternoon. What remained of the two corpses
had been removed to be disposed of elsewhere and the blessed fire in the
brazier had incinerated the body parts that needed purification. The fire
itself had long died down, leaving only ashes in the brazier. The Fire Orbs had
left the platform intact, the will behind the activation prayer only directing
the destruction of the young witch.
The Chief Inquisitor removed the sacred dagger from his belt, letting the blade
glimmer in the scant moonlight. He had felt compelled to return here, to bask
in the powerful emotions that had been evoked in him this day. Grasping the
dagger tightly, he envisioned how he could cleanse the kingdom with a sea of
divine fire, the sacred blade an extension of himself as he enforced the Path
of Light on this filthy world. It could even be possible to lead a Divine
March...
A sudden wind swept through the square, rattling the brazier and making him
flinch. Almost immediately, the dagger erupted in heat, forcing him to drop it.
His eyes widened as he saw the blade glowing with a fierce light, leaping up
from the platform and flying towards the brazier. It struck with a horrible
screech, shattering the brazier to pieces, causing the ash to spill onto the
platform. Horrified, he stumbled back as the ash turned blood crimson,
spreading outward from where the dagger had come to land. With another horrible
screech, the crimson ash caught fire, the flames coalescing into a vaguely
humanoid form. Stumbling to the edge of the platform, the Chief Inquisitor
started a desperate prayer as the fiery form leapt and slammed into him,
causing agony to engulf him as a horrible laugh deafened his ears.
*
In the three years since the practice of magic had been outlawed in the
kingdom, about 20 people had been executed in this town. Those who had reason
to flee had done so immediately after the enactment of the law, so most of the
condemned were innocent of the crime that led to their death. Everywhere
innocent blood was spilt, a spiritual wound was created. Concentrate the spilt
blood into a specific area and this wound continued to grow, attracting the
very evil that the executions were supposed to eradicate.
So it was that this sleepy town came to the attention of Askarth, a demon of
middle rank trapped in the realm between realms. The wound was too small to use
as a portal to become corporeal, and the amount of magic that he could cast
through it was pitiful. He would need to use events elsewhere to make something
out of it.
He started to hear whispers of Jacques Val-Roy, one of the worst examples of
the clergy in the Kingdom of Torvith. This man was completely drunk with
religious zeal, only it was a version of religion that no true servant of light
would ever follow. Hundreds had been left broken or dead by his sadistic
crusade to etch himself into history. Askarth had started considering how to
use him in order to escape, when the most interesting of news reached him.
Val-Roy had been entrusted with a sacred dagger, one impregnated with the blood
of a holy saint and blessed by the Guardian of Light. It was a perfect tool to
fight servants of the dark, its power irresistible. But like all powerful
tools, it had to be used correctly, lest its use backfire spectacularly. Using
it against the innocent, causing a spiritual backlash which would corrupt the
power contained within. This gave Askarth a possible way to escape.
When Val-Roy happened to be in the area surrounding the small town, Askarth had
scryed the town and found a family almost glowing in innocence. Acting fast, he
used the small amount of magic that he could through the wound and turned a rat
in the market into a spell container. Directing the creature, it scurried up
the girl’s robes and leapt from her arm, exploding as the decay spell spread in
the direction of a fruit vendor. The girl had made such a fuss when the rat
used her as a spring board, that enough attention was focused on her that “her”
use of magic was unquestionable.
If a saner Inquisitor had been in charge of the investigation, questions might
have been asked. How could a young girl accomplish such advanced magic? Why did
the detection wards not detect her entrance into the town? What could she
accomplish by decaying a few fruit?
But destiny was not kind to the Resye family. Val-Roy immediately took charge
of the investigation and they were executed the next day. Three innocents,
killed with the aid of the sacred weapon. Askarth could barely contain his
glee. His escape was at hand...
*
Jacques Val-Roy kneeled in front of the altar inside the town’s church, much
like he had done that morning. But Jacques Val-Roy was no more, his body now
merely a container for Askarth. Having used the spiritual wound caused by the
family’s execution as a portal, he had connected with the dagger’s corrupted
power and used it to send the Chief Inquisitor’s soul to oblivion, leaving him
in possession of the body.
Hearing the church doors being thrown open, he rose to his feet and turned to
meet the advance of Count Valdimer var Tegan. “Chief Inquisitor, what is the
meaning of summoning us at the late hour!” bellowed the dark-haired count.
Askarth drew upon the power of the dagger and directed his will at the count
and his family trailing him by a few paces. All of them flinched backwards as
the power engulfed their minds.
Askarth’s gaze bored into the count’s as he commanded: “Go to your guards and
command them to join the search for a deviant allied with the witch that was
purified today. They must immediately leave and reinforce the Holy Paladins
that are hunting this deviant along the road through the forest. When they are
all gone, return to me.” The count turned around and headed for his guards
beyond the church doors. Beckoning the count’s family to come closer, Askarth
removed the dark blue robes of the inquisition that Val-Roy had worn, leaving
him naked with his penis erect, the head wet with fluids.
As powerful as the corrupted power in the dagger was, it was volatile and would
soon rampage out of control. As such, Askarth needed to create a potent power
to tame it with. The count’s family had the necessary qualities, if used in a
certain ritual, for him to create this power. A man and woman, both from lines
blessed in times past, who had sired twins of different sexes, still innocent.
The count returned, standing next to his family. With a simple incantation from
Askarth, their clothes glimmered momentarily before simply not existing the
next moment. He smiled an unearthly smile at his puppets, their wills now
completely subservient to his.
Not needing to give any complicated orders anymore, Askarth decided to forego
verbal commands, opting instead to project visual cues to their minds, making
it easier for the children, who were barely 7 winters old, to follow his
commands. Obeying his orders, the family arranged themselves into a cross. The
countess dropped to her knees, brushing her golden hair out of her face.
Fondling the count’s testicles with her left hand, her right took his soft
penis and stroked it to full erection. Her pink tongue emerged from between her
full lips, licking the purple head of the penis. The children closely observed
as her right hand left the count’s penis, index finger wetted by her tongue and
then inserted into the count’s anus as his penis was being engulfed by her hot
mouth.
Obeying Askarth’s next commands, the countess turned around and got onto all
fours, reaching back with her hands and spreading the creamy pale spheres of
her buttocks open to reveal the pink ring of her anus and the coral pink of her
vagina, her pubic hair pale blond. The count’s tongue licked from her anus to
her clitoris, toying a few times with the ring of her anus. The children
closely observed as he licked and toyed with her clitoris, producing ever more
lustful moans from her.
Again Askarth interceded with new orders, causing the count to slam his penis
into his wife’s vagina, beginning to savagely thrust into her. Soon the moans
were at a fever pitch, pelvis slamming into pelvis, her firm pale breasts
enclosed by his hands, her pink nipples pinched by his fingers, their bodies
drenched in sweat. Soon the moans became savage yells, orgasms tearing through
the couple, their genitalia locked together as her uterus was filled with his
boiling semen, his penis drenched by her fluids. The count slipped out of her,
both of them turning to lie on their backs, exhausted.
Askarth cast a spell, creating a blue magical diagram on the floor below the
exhausted couple. Observing the children, he saw that the boy’s penis was fully
erect, while his sister’s thighs were covered with trails from her own arousal
fluids. So far everything was progressing well. The first stage, copulation by
a blessed pair resulting in the corruption of the innocent, was complete.
The second stage would require more intervention from Askarth, as the required
steps were far more explicit. Following Askarth’s orders, the countess spread
open her legs, using her left hand to spread open her labia whilst grasping her
son’s hairless penis with her right as he kneeled between her legs. Next to her
lay the count, his daughter spreading open her own labia with her right hand
and gasping his wet spent penis with her left hand, ready to impale herself
onto it.
Askarth made complicated gestures with his left hand, drawing power from the
dagger in his right hand, casting a series of spells on the family. The count’s
penis became fully erect again, whilst the family’s ability to achieve orgasm
was suppressed. At Askarth’s metal cue, the debauchery commenced. The son’s
penis entered the canal from which he had been born, his mother guiding him
into the right passage. His mouth soon found a nipple from which he had once
suckled, the other nipple pinched between his fingers. Soon his small buttocks
were a blur as he slammed into his mother over and over, her legs wrapped
around him.
The daughter thrust down onto her father’s penis, her hymen tearing as her
immature vagina was mercilessly stretched. Under Askarth’s complete mental
control, she didn’t react to the agony of her vagina being ravaged, not even as
her father’s penis slammed against her cervix. Blood freely flowed out of her,
staining her thighs and his groin. Her father’s hands used her hips to slam her
against him, her own fingers pinching her nipples.
Soon the air was filled with the smell and cacophony of sex, the participants
unable to achieve orgasm despite their best efforts. Askarth swiftly cast a
spell, causing the bones and the flesh above the hearts of both adults to
bubble away, revealing the pumping organs in their full glory. As Askarth
released the spell on the children, they erupted in orgasm, simultaneously
ripping the hearts of their parents out of their torsos, starting to consume
the organ as their parents’ blue and green eyes looked on, the light soon
leaving their eyes as they became still. The blue magical circle changed to
green with a flash of light. The second stage was complete.
Getting up from their parents’ corpses, the children came to stand in front of
Askarth. They were almost fully corrupted, murdering their parents at the
height of orgasm. Only two stages remained, but the time was quickly drawing
near that Askarth would be able to tame the corrupted power of the holy saint.
He looked the children over. Due to being twins and being so young, they
resembled each other closely. Blond hair, flat chests, smooth abdomens,
hairless genitalia, covered in crimson blood. Tavah’s penis was soft and small,
his testicles little balls in a smooth sack and his eyes the same green of his
mother. Tamar had a slit between her legs, her clitoris peeking out between her
smooth labia and her eyes were the same blue as her father.
The time for the third stage was on hand. The twins settled down at the feet of
the meat that had been their parents, offering their genitalia to the mouth of
their sibling. Each one started by licking their sibling’s anus, pushing their
tongues past the tight pink ring of muscle. Soon the tongues were replaced with
a thrusting wet finger. Spreading open his sister’s labia, Tavah licked her
clitoris and vagina in a frenzy, tasting blood and her fluids. Fondling his
testicles, she took his penis into her mouth, licking aggressively, tasting her
mother’s fluids.
Askarth was also preparing himself. Drawing on the power of the corrupted
dagger, he made the changes necessary to complete the ritual. His erection
elongated to the length of a sword, turning dark red and hardening to become as
firm as steel. His legs and groin became distorted with muscles, also turning
the same red hue.
Judging that the preparations were done, he suppressed the children’s ability
to orgasm again and ordered them to have sex. With Tamar on her back, legs and
labia spread open, her brother thrust his penis into her vagina. Much like
their parents, their bodies soon glistered with sweat as their pelvises slammed
against each other, their childish moans making the scene ever more perverse.
Giddy with anticipation, Askarth approached them. Like their parents, they soon
found their hearts exposed following his spell. Under Askarth’s command, each
one gently took hold of their own heart, the strange sensation making them
squirm. Standing over the twins, his enhanced penis aimed at their heads,
Askarth gave them their final command. As the spell on them was released, the
twins erupted into orgasm. Each one ripped their own heart out, throwing the
still pumping organs to the side dismissively, as if the organs were trash.
Askarth used his enhanced muscles, thrusting forward to perforate Tavah’s skull
and penetrate into his sister’s. Ejaculating, two ropes of semen scalded her
brain as he quickly withdrew to deposit two ropes on her brother’s brain. The
supernatural semen quickly liquefied their brains, the twins dying with their
sibling’s gaze as their last sight.
The magical circle changed in a bright flash to become crimson red. Drawing on
the corruption of the twins’ souls, having corrupted them further with the act
of suicide at the point of orgasm and perversion with a demon, he moulded it to
the corrupted power in the dagger. The backlash threatened to overwhelm him,
but finally he was able to use the powerful perversions of the evening to tame
the power. The dagger shattered as he drew the power forth, letting it seep
into his flesh and bones, to become part of his very soul.
The process complete, the ritual a success, he was looking quite forward to
what he could do to top the events of tonight. Giving no further thought to the
four pieces of meat, he prepared to leave the church and enter the night.
END of Chapter
Chapter End Notes
     Comments and critique welcome.
***** Pleasureful Interlude *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The castle Breisgard stood imperiously on the hill, its cold stone walls
standing out amongst the green grasslands. It had been built nearly five
centuries earlier to serve as the military headquarters for this region,
situated as it was near the Torvith-River States border. Numerous protective
wards, both Divine and Elemental in origin, had ensured that no enemy force had
ever been able to penetrate its defences, not even the legion of demons during
the Dark Decade.
Despite the obvious strength of the castle, the Dark Decade had weakened
Torvith to such an extent that the castle was sold to the Vilkrom family, a
family of adventurers turned demon slayers who had been greatly enriched by the
same catastrophe that had befallen their kingdom. As the River States
themselves had suffered extensive damage, Torvith’s military commanders did not
see any pressing reason to refuse the gold offered for the castle.
The family’s many adventures over the centuries had enriched them with fabulous
treasures, some even rivalling those held in the Great Cathedral, stored safely
in vaults and protected by the castle’s wards. The cost of these treasures had
been paid in blood, with only one male Vilkrom being left and the family having
given up adventuring a century ago.
Reginald Vilkrom had set out to restore the family. As heartbroken as he had
been by his dear wife’s death 2 years ago, he had needed to marry again to
produce heirs. His dear Alicia had only given him one daughter and as much as
he loved Stephanie, she was a strange child and he wasn’t convinced that she
would be able to manage the family. It would be far better to have her married
off to a gentle man, away from the intrigue and danger that so much wealth
produced. Reginald needed a son who could lead the battle to restore the
family.
So it came to pass that he married Danique Haelkrom, oldest daughter of a noble
family known for their fertility. She already had a son, a product of her
marriage to a local count who had met an accident during a hunting trip. The
count’s family had schemed for his title and wealth, causing her and her son to
be thrown out. Their circumstances had aroused sympathy in Reginald and he had
been impressed by the strength of the boy’s character.
The marriage had not gone over well with Stephanie, who had no words for her
stepbrother or any kind words for her stepmother. A year passed and his new
wife had not yet fallen pregnant, but the boy had not ceased to impress him, so
he decided to adopt him as his heir. But when Reginald had announced that he
was adopting the boy, Victor, he was terrified at the darkness he had seen in
Stephanie’s eyes. He would need to hurry in getting her away to a less
troubling place.
*
A cloaked figure stood in front of one of the castle’s windows, looking out at
the rolling grasslands. Dipping a slender finger into the green liquid sloshing
inside a jar held in the other hand, the figure soon started drawing runic
figures on the windowpane. All 15 runes drawn, they shimmered briefly before
fading away, replaced with an aurora of swirling colours as the castle’s wards
become visible as they enclosed the exterior of the castle. A hole started to
appear in the wards, colours replaced with a clear sky, the hole overlapping
with the window. The cloaked figure danced back as a sudden furious wind burst
through the window, the storm racing off further into the castle as the glass
shards fell to the ground.
*
Darkness had settled in over the castle by the time the cloaked figure entered
the castle’s dining hall. The room was only used during gatherings when the
number of guests required it, so it was quite empty aside from three naked
figures standing motionless in the middle of the hall and another cloaked
figure leaning against wall, soft candlelight illuminating the room.
The two cloaked figures were soon together by the wall, their voices soft as
they spoke with each other. “Is everything as I asked for, Zarchiel?” asked a
feminine voice.
“Indeed, my Lady. The servants are bewitched, they will not react until you
need them to. I have placed such wards that any potential visitors will find
that they have other pressing engagements to attend to,” answered a deeper,
sinister female voice.
“Them?” asked the first voice, indicating the motionless figures.
“As you requested, they will not resist you, but are as aware of what is
happening as they would usually be.”
“And the weapon I asked for?”
A black metallic shard was put onto the first speaker’s palm. It shimmered with
a soft light as it expanded to take the form of a dagger. “It will become
whatever you need, light enough that you could use it even as a great sword if
needed,” answered Zarchiel.
“And the church?”
“If the Inquisitors come snooping, they will find no trace of my magic, my
Lady. All will appear as you mean it to. No-one will suspect this to be
anything else than an attack by infidels from across the border.”
“Once I have finished with them, I will pay you as per our agreement.”
“Thank you my Lady.” Zarchiel gave a deep bow, but the first speaker had
already turned away and was striding towards the motionless figures. Within a
few strides the cloak had been thrown off, revealing the naked form of
Stephanie Vilkrom. Athletically build from years of horse riding, with loose
raven hair swirling, her pale body came to a stop facing her prisoners.
Hardened pink nipples adorned small breasts, her chest moving quicker with the
excitement coursing through her veins, also causing her bare shaved nether lips
to bloom open, her bundle of nerves to pulse and her thighs to slicken with her
fluids. Her dark smile was echoed in her blue eyes, darkened with lust and
hate.
Deciding to start her long awaited revenge, Stephanie marched to her stepmother
and forced the blond haired whore to her knees. Looking into the cunt’s teary
grey eyes, her spittle flew as she screamed: “You disgusting swamp whore, how
dare you come here and steal what is mine?!” Her stepmother tried to flinch
away from the fury of her words, but Stephanie grabbed her by her blond tresses
and forced her head close to her own. “You dare to prostitute yourself so that
you can take everything from me?!” Slapping the whore through her disgusting
face, Stephanie grabbed her stepbrother and manoeuvred him into position in
front of his kneeling mother, dropping the dagger to the floor.
Stephanie had nothing but hatred for this piece of filth. He didn’t even have a
drop of Vilkrom blood in him, but suddenly he was the heir to their fortune, a
fortune that was legitimately hers. Standing behind him, she crushed his soft
hairless penis and sack, causing his brown eyes to water with pain. “Enjoying
it? You disgusting pervert, I remember all of those times those filthy eyes of
yours looked at me, wanting to stick this joke into me. But you never had the
guts to do anything, you filthy weakling. I bet you only know the feel of your
whore mother’s filthy ass,” she taunted him, her warm breath tickling his ear.
Relaxing her grip, she started to fondle his small testicles and stroke the
length of his short penis. The boy’s blood flowed into it, causing it to
stiffen as she taunted his mother: “Bet you had to do this many a time, whore.
This stupid brat couldn’t fuck anything, not even your stinking ass; he had to
settle for a whore’s hands.” The boy’s pale body, still soft from childhood,
started to shake. Aiming his penis at the whore’s face, Stephanie watched with
perverse glee as he tried to throw his brown haired head back, his eyes
widening and a moan escaping from his lips as strings of pearly semen erupted
onto his mother’s creamy soft skin and her golden hair, her left eyes burning
from the salty fluid.
Picking up the magical dagger from where it was lying next to her stepmother,
with a single slice she removed her stepbrother’s genitalia, immediately
shoving it into his mother’s mouth as blood squirted from his groin. As
Stephanie forced her stepmother’s jaws to chew, teeth sank into boy flesh,
causing blood and semen to fill her mouth.
Having forced the cunt to choke on and swallow her son’s manhood, Stephanie
used the dagger to split the boy open from groin to neck, slicing through skin,
fat and muscles. Using her hands and the dagger, she started to empty him of
his organs. Soon the boy was on his knees in a lake of blood and viscera.
Discarding his severed intestines to the side, Stephanie mocked: “As I thought,
no guts.” Laughing hysterically, she sliced through his windpipe and jugulars,
causing the life to slip from his eyes as she bathed in the crimson spray, an
intense orgasm thundering through her.
Tears were streaming from the whore’s eyes as Stephanie forced her down onto
her back, shifting her limbs to leave her spread-eagled. Full creamy breasts
with dark pink heaved as Danique sobbed, the soft pale body of a noblewoman
quivering, neatly trimmed dark blond curls obscuring her sex. Stephanie knelt
over her stepmother’s semen covered head, spreading her labia open with a hand
to present the whore with an unobstructed view into her stepdaughter dripping
sex. With a sigh, she relaxed her bladder, acrid foul urine flowing from her
urethra and splashing onto her stepmother. The waste fluid darkened her hair
and plastered it to her head, her mouth filling with and her open grey eyes
burning from the liquid.
Standing up, Stephanie spat at her stepmother, the saliva joining the mixture
of fluids on her face. Turning to her father, she said: “What was it that
seduced you so easily? What made you take my inheritance away?!” Breathing
heavily, she angled the dagger downwards and willed it to chance. Soon a pure
black war hammer had taken its place, the shaft loosely held in her right hand.
Giving a wicked smile to her father, her eyes burning with madness, she
continued: “It doesn’t matter, whatever it was will soon be no more.” Gripping
the handle in both hands, the weapon as light as Zarchiel had promised, she
lifted the weapon above her head and then sent it surging downwards, ready to
destroy the whore that had dared to conspire to take what was hers.
Blow after blow landed on the helpless woman, Stephanie’s body soon glistering
with sweat as she sank into a sea of rage. Dainty feet were mangled as tarsal
bones were shattered, their jagged points ripping through flesh and nerves.
Knees were broken, with menisci and arteries torn. Blood flowed as labia were
crushed and ripped off, waves of agony crashing over her as her clitoris was
severed from her body. Urine spurted through a damaged urethra, flowed into her
abdomen from a crushed bladder and torn ureters, mixed with blood as kidneys
were beaten to a pulp. Shards of broken hip bones cut into intestines, filthy
faeces flowing out of her dilated anus even as the continued blows made new
holes from which the filth could seep into her innards. Ovaries popped as her
womb was laid into, her pelvis and abdomen turning to mush, blood streaming out
of her vagina. Bile and stomach acid added to the mix as organs were destroyed,
her stomach tearing open like a bag and her liver splitting into chunks. A
ruptured pancreas added its digestive juices to the mix, with a sea of blood
streaming out from a ripped spleen. Vertebra cracked, nerves were ripped to
shreds, causing brief respite from the agony that had become her existence as
her abdomen and pelvis were eaten from the inside.
Small orgasms flowed through Stephanie as she ripped the bitch apart, her sex
fluids gushing from her vagina. The whore’s skin was turning blue from the
blows, her mangled flesh speared by bone fragments. She was quickly becoming
tenderised meat in a blood sauce. Seeing that the whore would not be surviving
for long, Stephanie went into a frenzy, her lust driving her madness.
Mammaries split open, fat oozing out as nipples were torn off. Ribs shattered
under the assault, lungs filled with blood as the bones’ jagged points ripped
into them. The whore’s heart was marginally better protected by her sternum,
but it soon was also broken, leaving the pumping organ to be pulverised by the
hammer blows. Pleasure rocked through Stephanie as she destroyed the bitch’s
heart, the wave of a massive orgasm building. With frenetic speed she hammered
into her stepmother’s face. The cunt’s mouth filled with blood as lips were
ripped off, her jaw cracked and her airways drowned in her lifeblood. A dainty
nose met the same fate as her dainty feet, jagged edges ripping through flesh.
Grey eyes almost devoid of life burst under the assault, the ocular fluid
running out to mix with blood, urine and semen. The orgasm crashed through
Stephanie as she broke through her stepmother’s skull, blow after blow raining
down onto the squishy brain, chunks ripped out with the barbaric onslaught. The
intensity of the orgasm forced blasphemous moans from Stephanie’s lips, fire
racing through her veins, causing her legs to become weak as she folded to rest
on the destroyed corpse. A final burst of sex fluids erupted from her sex,
drenching what remained of her stepmother’s torso.
*
Having recovered from the orgasm, Stephanie hauled her sweat slicked body from
the corpse, coming to stand in front of her father. “Why? Why did you betray
me? If you wanted something to fuck, wouldn’t one of the servants have been
enough? Why did you have to marry a cunt? Fuck, you could have fucked me, but
you had to go and get a swamp whore. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you had to
adopt that disgusting worm. Why? Am I not good enough? Am I just a womb to be
married off to a fucking peasant? I share your fucking blood, but you chose
those cunts?!” she roared at him.
“I mean, I tried to handle it maturely. I thought I could easily get that
disgusting worm into a deadly accident, retake my rightful place. But, as you
boasted, she’s from a fertile family. I fucking caught you spraying your seed
inside of her. You wanted another fucking bastard. You wanted me out of the
fucking picture so badly that you would rather knock her up,” she continued,
bitter tears streaming from her eyes.
“And what did you expect me to do? Lay back, spread my legs and be fucked over
like a whore. Did you think I would just go along with you trying to marry me
off to some nobody? No! So I fucking summoned a demon and decided to sort this
mess out. And I wanted to save you father, but it was quite apparent that there
is no saving you. Whatever happened, you have been poisoned to the bone. But
don’t worry, I will give you the experience of a lifetime. I mean, you’ve
fucked me over, so we might as well fuck for real.”
Reginald could only look on in horror at how far his daughter had fallen, her
entire soul twisted to darkness. Her blood soaked hands forced him onto his
back, the blood of his wife and adopted son being left behind in bloody
handprints on his muscular sun tanned body.
Taking his large warm penis into her hot moist mouth, she licked and sucked,
coaxing the blood to fill the organ. Her hands fondled his full testicles and
stroked the base of the shaft. Slowly his manhood hardened, becoming erect
under the skilful assault from his own flesh and blood. Tasting the fluids
dripping from his urethra, she rose up and grasping her awakened prize, impaled
her cunt on it, the organ that had helped to create her forcing her walls open
and striving for her cervix. Given totally to her lust, she rode her father
furiously. Sweat droplets flew from her body as she rocked up and down, her
hair swirling as moans were ripped from her throat. Her hands kneaded her own
small breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples as her juices coated her
father’s penis. The wave of orgasm crashed over her again, making her scream as
another burst of fluid seemed out from her.
Horrified blue eyes met insane blue eyes as she leaned down and kissed her
father, holding his head with his greying black hair in a soft embrace.
Reaching over to the war hammer, her will this time changed it to the form of a
slender chain. Looping it around his throat, tightening it with the ends held
in her hands, she said: “I promised you the experience of a lifetime. So here
it is, you will die as you fill your daughter’s womb with your seed.” With a
twisted smile, she began to bounce on his penis again, tightening the
constriction around his neck as she forced him against her cervix. Very soon he
was struggling for air, his face turning red and his orgasm threatening to
crash over him as the hypoxia drove his baser instincts.
Stephanie gave a smile as her father’s neck bones started to crack as the
merciless chain continued to pull tight, then she let the moans explode from
her as she felt her father battering through her cervix, causing him to erupt
inside of her, his warm semen drenching her womb as life fled from his eyes.
Satisfied, she felt her own orgasm wash over her, stars dancing in front of her
eyes as she shrieked.
*
Later that evening, Askarth walked down the road, his form cloaked in darkness,
heading for the River States. It had been an entertaining evening. He grinned
as he felt the power of the holy weapon he had acquired stirring from where it
was tied to his back. Five halberds had been given to the five Lord Inquisitors
during the Dark Decade, each one empowered with Elemental magic and blessed
with Divine magic. But each one also contained a powerful mixture, the blood of
a recently slain saint and the semen of a demon of High Rank. This gave the
weapons almost unmatched potential as magical amplifiers, power which he was in
need of.
As powerful as the ritual at the church had made him, it had empowered him only
over Divine magic. Which was not something to scoff at, as that was almost the
only thing demons would face on the mortal realm. He could easily slay a legion
of Inquisitors, tear the Great Cathedral down or take over the whole kingdom if
he so desired. But as today proved, he needed to gain other advantages. If the
Vilkrom daughter hadn’t been such a vile cunt, he would have never been able to
get into that castle to get this weapon as he wasn’t powerful enough to get
through the Elemental wards. It was fortunate that the Vilkroms had acquired
the holy weapon from a dying Inquisitor and stored it in their castle, afraid
to ever use it lest the church turn their gaze upon them. Now he had the
ingredients to enormous power and no-one was the wiser.
Of course, said vile cunt was a witness to his actions. It may have been wiser
to snuff her out, but she had delivered as promised and Askarth did not kill
needlessly. The last time he had made that mistake, he had been forced into the
realm between realms during the glory days of the Dark Decade. His masquerade
as Zarchiel would ensure that if the dim-witted Inquisitors ever got to here,
they would not be looking for him. The situation at the castle was also not his
usual style, so it would take an Inquisitor of uncommon, at least in this
barbaric kingdom, knowledge to connect the dots. He would be in the River
States long before anyone realised where he was going.
His only concern now was to find a suitable place in order to enact the ritual
with which he could absorb the halberd’s power. His actions on the mortal realm
may not be understood by these Torvith barbarians, seeing as innocent blood was
still being spilt, but those in his former prison were not so easily eluded.
Some of them, using mortal agents under their control, had started to direct
hostile actions against him.
Askarth smiled as saw the River States on the horizon. It would be but a matter
of time before he gave some demon spawn a very unpleasant surprise.
END of Chapter
Chapter End Notes
     Comments and critique welcome.
End Notes
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