It has been a week since my encounter with the Spider King. I thank the Lord, once again, that the pair of paladins who came to escort me back to the Order's compound believed my excuses about my missing armor and broken sword. Is that right, thanking the Lord for someone believing a lie? It seems wrong. Lying is, after all, a sin. However, sin or not, I cannot bear to face the humiliation of telling everyone I was captured and raped by the very creature I had hoped to slay. Better they think that I, like everyone else who has returned from this quest, never encountered him. I will get enough mocking for my failure as it is.
We are entering the compound now. It is as lively as usual, bustling with novices, initiates, pages, and the lower clergy, as well as the various commoners who sweep the floors, cook the meals, tend the gardens, and do all the various other tasks that keep this place running. My two companions and I are on horseback for swift travel. We stop by the stables and dismount. I want to take care of my own gelding, to see that he is well groomed and fed, but Sir Latimer, one of my fellow travelers, convinces me to give the reins to a stablehand.
"What is so urgent that, not only am I being escorted, but I cannot even take care of my own horse?" I want to know.
Sir Roland, the other paladin in my escort, sighs. "Asking again will not change the fact that we aren't allowed to tell you."
I shrug. "I thought that, now that we are back-"
"Well, you thought wrong," snaps Sir Roland.
"Roland, mind your temper," Sir Latimer murmurs, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "She is a fellow paladin. That deserves a certain level of manners."
As I am not meant to hear this, I don't reply. Nor do I respond when Sir Roland mutters, "Fine, I'll be polite to the bitch," under his breath. I plan on reporting him to the Master Paladin next time I have a chance. In addition to this discourtesy, which is but one of many, Sir Roland has a habit of letting his hands fall where they shouldn't, and rest there until I object. Sometimes he squeezes things, and he makes lewd suggestions when Sir Latimer can't hear. After the Spider King, this is almost more than I can bear. Especially given the nightmares.
Well, I call them nightmares. They are actually rarely unpleasant while they are happening, at least at first. One recurring dream is actually a rather pleasant reiteration of my encounter with the Spider King, with minor variations. The other is a bit stranger.
In that dream, I am looking down on myself from above as I walk through the corridors of the Order's compound with Sir Roland and Sir Latimer, just like I am now, in fact. In the dream, I keep wanting to tell myself to run, but am unable to speak. I'm not even sure I have a mouth.
The me below and the two other paladins come to a door. I can never remember, afterwards, which door in the compound it is, but in the dream I know, and I dread it. The door opens, and suddenly, I am not looking down on myself anymore. My upper body is strapped to a table, while my calves are strapped to the table's legs, so that my thighs are spread wide and my ass is up in the air. In the dream I am naked and something is coming up behind me, oh God something is coming up behind me...
And then I wake up, gasping, in my bedroll. Once I have calmed myself down, I usually start wondering what it means. I decided the first time it was no memory, not even one twisted by dream. I would think it was a premonition, were I as stupid and uneducated as Sir Roland seems to think. Premonitions are impossible. Even God does not know the future, though he sees every detail of the past and present.
But now we are coming to a door, and I must end my musings. It is the door of one of the senior clergy who oversee the Order of Paladins, a man named Bishop Arthur Orwen. I have never met him, but by the gossip of servants I know him to be a scholar of sorts as well as a cleric, always researching some esoteric old prayer or orison, as well as experimenting with new ways to shape the power that is given to the clergy by our Lord. He is one of the highest ranking members of the clergy to stay in the Order's compound, higher in rank than the lower clergy and most paladins, but below the Master Paladin, his Lieutenants, and the single Scarlet who reports directly to the Zierat, the head of the Church and the Voice of Our Lord.
Sir Roland knocks respectfully, and when Bishop Orwen says "Come in!" he opens the door, and we enter.
"Ah, Sir Roland, Sir Latimer. And this must be the Paladin I sent you for, Lady..." He pauses, frowning.
"Thera, Bishop Orwen," I say.
"Ah, yes, Lady Thera. It is a pleasure to meet you, milady. Please, sit. Have some tea. There is something we must discuss," says Bishop Orwen. He seems to be an amiable old man. In his youth, I think, he must have been a heartbreaker, the sort who is too busy with studying to notice the way the ladies swoon. Now he has lines around his eyes from smiling, and more grey hair than brown.
His office is covered in papers and books, which populate both the desks and the chairs. I sit in the only chair that is bare of the bishop's work, and pick up a cup full of tea. It is still hot. The gate guards must have sent word to him when we arrived.
Before I can drink, Bishop Orwen stops me. "No, milady, that is mine. I have a special herbal blend, you see, for my health. You would not like it."
The tea smells fine to me, but I shrug and hand him the cup I am holding, and then pick up the other. I take a sip. Sir Latimer has an odd expression on his face. I consider asking him what is wrong, but the bishop dismisses him before I can decide. "You may go, Sir Latimer, if you wish. I know you have other matters to attend to. Sir Roland, if you could guard the door. See that we are not disturbed."
The two men exit. The bishop turns to me. "Now, Lady Thera, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to help wipe out those pesky fairy folk, once and for all?"
I try not to show my alarm on my face. I like the fairy folk. In the small castle where I grew up, they often helped in the orchards, keeping the trees free of pests for nothing more than a nightly bowl of milk. Since then, they have frequently aided in my quests. For the proper price, of course. But that is their nature, to barter and bargain and, sometimes, to trick. I knew the higher clergy did not feel the way I did, but I did not expect this. Not so soon.
"I know what you're thinking," says Bishop Orwen. I try not to panic, and am relieved when he continues, "They're too small. Too fast. They fly, with their little wings, and they hide using their dark powers. Impossible to hit, some might say."
"Not impossible," I disagree. I have my pride.
The bishop laughs. "That's what all the paladins say! But you send them to clear the fairies out of a village or a forest or something and they only manage to get one or two before the rest just vanish or fly away. But I've discovered a solution!"
He looks at me expectantly, and the silence stretches just a bit too long. "What solution?" I belatedly ask.
He grins. "A final solution. One that will wipe out the vermin once and for all! You are aware, I assume, that wasps have a tendency to eat small, flying things."
I start to have a horrible suspicion about what this final solution is. But why all the secrecy? Why summon me? "I am aware, yes. But they are too small to eat the fairy folk."
He smiles beneficently. "Normal wasps are, yes." He reaches under his desk and pulls out a terrarium.
I blink in surprise. The center of the terrarium is divided by a barrier spell. On one side is a small, female fairy. Her face is panicked, and she beats her tiny fists against the glass, very obviously screaming, but the silence runes on the terrarium contain the sound. On the other side is a wasp the size of my forearm. I grow cold. I know where this is going.
Before I can protest, Bishop Orwen gestures, and the force field is gone. The wasp immediately pounces on the helpless fairy. Blood sprays everywhere. I try not to throw up.
"Monster!" I gasp. "You're a monster!"
He shakes his head slowly, like a teacher disappointed by a dumb pupil. "I had such high hopes you would join us willingly, Lady Thera. Ah well." He shrugs, and smiles. "Good thing I took the precaution of drugging your tea."
"Drugging..." I cannot get the rest of the word out. I feel paralyzed, and numb. I try desperately to leap from my seat, but I cannot seem to move.
"It is hard to create life, you know," says the bishop conversationally. "Too often it requires messy ritual sacrifices. So inconvenient, especially since I had trouble requisitioning enough animals. And, moreover, these wasps must be intelligent, if they are to prey on the cunning fairies, so they would require an intelligent sacrifice. The Zierat forbade the use of commoners, unfortunately, and if I could capture enough fairies, I would not need the wasps at all; I could just wipe out the fairies myself. Fortunately, there is a solution. Your womb."
"My..." I manage to gasp. My vision is darkening around the edges.
"Yes. You Lady Paladins so rarely use your female parts for anything useful, but they contain, within them, the God given ability to create life. So I created a creature to lay eggs in your womb, so that they could germinate into my wasps. Do not worry, Lady Thera, you will survive the process. Your womb won't, but I doubt you were planning to use it anyways." The last thing I see as I slip into blackness is his self satisfied smile.
*
I am dreaming of the Spider King again. Somehow, I know it is a dream, but I can't seem to wake up. Not that I really want to. He lifts me effortlessly into the air, and I embrace him as he lowers me onto his twin cocks. I shudder in ecstasy as his tickler finds my clit, and, as I move, I can feel his cocks within me, huge and curved against my insides. He lifts me up, so that his cocks almost slide out of me, and then he lowers me back down as his hips thrust upwards. I marvel at his strength. And then he...
He forces me facedown onto a table, and straps me down with my arms at my sides. I cannot seem to move. I want to wake up now. I blink, and it is not the Spider King but Sir Roland looming above me. He leers. "She's waking up, Bishop Orwen."
"Good, good. Get her legs, now, before she comes fully awake." I recognize Bishop Orwen's voice, and his face peers down at me out of the haze.
Sir Roland is behind me now. I blink muzzly. Something brushes against my pussy. "Geez, she's soaking-"
I kick back instinctively, and hear a yelp. "Fucking cunt!" Sir Roland yells.
