The Order Ch 03 1

Author's note: The following story is the third chapter in my series "The Order" It will make almost no sense if you haven't read the first two chapters. The story features some elements of magic, as well as non-consensual sex although those are almost entirely absent in this particular installment. All characters are over 18. Thank you for reading!

*

The floors of the guest house squeaked in complaint as the girls arranged the room to their liking. First, the two dragged a small sofa in front of the fire. Then, as Darcy pushed the beds together and remade them as one, Bria drew the curtains and snuffed all but one candle. From time to time their eyes met with a wink. At last, Bria brought the wine and they sank into the welcoming upholstery.

Being visiting Adepts had advantages. Their entourage had been too large for the entire party to remain in the Temple guest quarters. Instead, while the Princesses would stay within the confines of the Temple, the houses of the more influential matriarchs had vied to provide quarters for the Adepts. Bria and Darcy had been put up at the otherwise unoccupied guest quarters of House Maarsten. Although their rather isolated accommodations would prevent them from sharing in some of the Temple's distractions, they cared little.

Bria tenderly brushed Darcy's wavy black hair from her face. The girl's olive complexion seemed to soak up the warmth of the fire and reflect it back. Her large, dark eyes fluttered shut as Bria reached in for a kiss. Darcy's lips met hers, tentatively at first, then more compliantly. Their tongues found each other and for a moment slid together sweetly.

Darcy pulled back, her breath audible. "We have all night Bri'. Let's not rush."

The other girl feigned a pout, then giggling, took another sip of wine. "Yes, we do lover."

The girls settled in, sipping their wine and musing over the news of the day. Apparently there had been a fire at the Temple stables just two days past. One Adept had been burned trying to save the horses; two others suffered from smoke inhalation and were still being cared for. Although the fire had been swiftly contained, the Order had been silent on its origin. No doubt one of the Broken had tipped over a lamp. They weren't known for their grace.

Not that this was the girls' concern. As the wine softened them, Bria looked again to her companion. Both were wearing simple cotton shifts which did little to conceal their soft young bodies. Lazily, Bria began to untie the laces of Darcy's shift, gently tugging the end of each lace free. The girl gave her a scolding glance but didn't resist. As she progressed, Darcy's body became more and more accessible until finally Bria could slip in a hand to cup a small breast. She stroked gently, sliding her fingers slowly across the nipple, repeating the motion until Darcy let out a soft moan.

Bria leaned closer yet, to whisper in the other girl's ear. "Alone with you." She kissed and nuzzled Darcy's neck. "All night long." She kissed lower. "I'm going to make you mine." As her tongue slid ever lower, Darcy released another moan.

There was a soft knock at the door.

***

"... and babbling like a fool. Plus, we know he had something to do with that mess at the Temple. They'll come looking here before too long. He needs to be gone before then."

"He seemed lucid to me. Anyway we can't kick him out. He's on Lodge business."

Colm climbed from the well of sleep gradually back to consciousness. His first awareness was of voices around him, then the sense of movement nearby, and finally the suggestion of growing light. He opened his eyes and remembered.

He was the last to awaken. Around the Lodge bunk room blankets had been rolled and straw mats had been arranged tidily. A few bunks held a rucksack, indicators that a Brother intended to return to that particular bed. Mid-morning light filtered into the room from a single window. It was well past his normal waking hour. He swung his feet over the edge of the bunk and stretched.

"He's awake. I think I'll ask him more about his Lodge business."

The voices that had helped coax Colm from sleep were coming from an alcove just outside the bunk room. Two men now stared at Colm. One was compact and muscled, perhaps a few years older than Colm. The other was taller, past his best years, with sunken features. It was this one who regarded Colm with more than a touch of skepticism. Sighing inwardly, he rose and joined them.

"Sleep well, boy?" This from the older man.

"Pay no mind to Grady," said the younger man. "He hasn't slept through the night in about a hundred years." He made room on the bench form Colm. "I'm Killian."

"Colm." They shook as Colm joined him on the bench.

After an awkward moment Grady extended his hand across the table. "He'd have you think I'm some sort of troll. I just don't go believing every story I hear." The man's grip was surprisingly strong.

"And my story strains your belief?" Colm couldn't remember how much he had told the Brothers the previous night. He did remember fleeing the Temple of the Order atop a stolen mount, barely clinging to the mane as the crazed mare tore through the darkened streets. He remembered that at some point the beast had tired and he'd been able to safely slip off. He had obviously found the Lodge somehow. How much detail had he shared before collapsing?

"You mean the part where you shoot flames out of your cock?" Grady wasn't smiling.

"Out of his fingers, Grady. His fingers. You lack an appreciation for detail."

"What I lack appreciation for is trouble with the Order."

As the two men quibbled, Colm's hand sought out his groin. The ring was still there, faintly warm and as soft as his cock. He tried to tug it loose through the fabric of his trousers, but without luck.

"What I've told you is the truth. I'm sure if you ask around you will learn of the fire in the stables."

"We know about the fire," Killian said. "The entire town is chattering about it. One Adept burned and two others left unconscious. Bad business."

"And flaming cock or not, you brought this on," added Grady. "They're sure to track you here. If you serve the Brotherhood as you claim, you must know you have to leave."

"I'm not so sure about that." This came from a man Colm hadn't seen before. Although of an age with Grady, he strode into the alcove with the confidence of a younger man. He had a full head of hair, albeit shot through heavily with white. To Colm's eye he had the bearing of a respected elder.

"They punished two of the Broken this morning. Tied them outside the Temple and whipped them raw. So either those poor bastards started the fire or the Order is covering something up." His eyes were fixed on Colm. "Either way, they won't be barging in here any time soon."

Both Grady and Killian chewed on this news for a moment.

The newcomer continued. "But, that doesn't mean our friend here didn't play a role." He sat opposite Colm. "You said you were here on Brotherhood business."

Colm couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question. "Yes," he said simply. Traveled four days from Methle."

"Methle," the man said wistfully. "Been there. The Temple there is small. And somewhat specialized."

"I wouldn't know about that," Colm said cautiously. "I stuck to Lodge business."

"Which is what?"

Eager to be done, Colm bolted out the most direct response he could think of. "It's to do with the waning."

***

Bria cursed. Both girls sat upright as Darcy scrambled to fasten her shift. Servants had already brought them wine and made the fire. They had expected to be granted privacy for the rest of the evening. Irked, Bria rose and opened the heavy door to their chambers. Darcy peered past her to see.

Looming in the doorway, eyes downcast, stood a tall man dressed in the colors of the house. Black curls hung about his head. There was a freshness about him that the other servants had lacked. Judging by a faint soapy scent, he'd bathed recently, and wore pressed trousers and tunic. Clasped gingerly between the fingers of both hands he offered a sealed envelope.

Bria took the envelope, tore open the seal and read the letter within:

My honored guests,

I hope you find the accommodations to your satisfaction. Please do not hesitate to let one of the servants know should there be anything you lack. All that I have is at the disposal of the Order.

Should you seek distraction this evening, please accept this gift. I believe you will find him gifted in the arts of pleasure. Use him as you will. Should your desires consume him, so be it. I have many servants but too few opportunities to share my blessings with the Order.

Lady light our way,

Matriarch Maarsten

By this time Darcy had risen to join her fellow Adept. Bria handed her the note as she resumed her appraisal of the newcomer. Decidedly over six feet, he was more lean than stocky. Though his tunic was buttoned conservatively, tufts of dark chest hair still found their way over his collar. Bria thought she made out the outlines of a scar along his neck.

"You may raise your eyes, wretch!" Darcy's voice broke the silence.

Still averting his eyes, the man obliged. Though not as pretty as most pleasure slaves, he had his charms. His black curls hung almost to his equally dark eyes. What should have been pale skin was darkened by the sun, but yet had escaped the furrows that might catch him later in life. His jawline was strong. Only an asymmetric twist to his mouth kept him from outright beauty.

"Do you know why you're here?" Bria asked.

"In the service of m'ladies," the man said, haltingly.

"And did you read the note you bore?" Darcy asked.

"M'lady, the note were sealed. Even 't weren't, well..." he stumbled over the words. "I don't have my letters m'ladies."

Darcy giggled. Illiteracy was unheard of within the Order, and extremely rare among the matriarchy. On the other hand, except for a relatively few scribes, clerks, and coin counters, few male servants, tradesmen, or slaves could read or write more than their own name.

"Be kind, Darcy," Bria chided. "We've a guest. We must show him our hospitality."

With that, the pair ushered the man into the room. Behind him the lock slid solidly into place.

***

"The waning?" The white-haired man's confident demeanor seemed to have failed him.

Grady was equally taken aback. "We mustn't talk about this here."

"Yes," the first man agreed. "This way." he led them out of the alcove through the kitchen and into a windowless office. Piles of dusty ledgers cluttered a desk set in the center of the room. He closed the door behind them.

"What is this all about?" Of the three others, Killian seemed the most confused by the direction their morning was taking.

"Killian," the white-haired man said intently. "You're not to speak of this, do you understand me?"

"Speak of what? I've no idea what this is all about."

"I'm telling you, whatever you hear, in this room, today, you keep to yourself. Understand?"

"Yeah, sure. Swear on a Princess' twat!"

Grady glared, but turned to Colm. "What do you know about the waning?"

Even with Killian's jokes the energy in the room had changed, darkened. "I was only to tell Fyne," Colm said, cautiously.

"Oh, for Lord's sake," the white-haired man laughed. "I'm Fyne!"

Relieved, Colm told of his mission. He told of his service to the Lodge in Methle, how his Brothers had set him on his journey, and how they had told him the waning had begun.

"Well shit," muttered Grady.

"Shit," agreed Fyne.

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" demanded Killian.

Colm sided with Killian, but kept his mouth shut.

"A moment Killian," said Fyne, raising his hand. He stared sharply at Colm. "You'll get your story. And work, if it pleases you. But first, I want to hear about the knight of the flaming cock."

"This is your fault, Grady," Killian muttered.

"Lads please, I jest." Fyne did in fact seem to be cracking a smile. "I jest, but I do want to hear the rest of the story."

With more reluctance this time, Colm told the tale of his encounter at the Temple of the Order. Sparing no detail, he included his capture, the humiliating placement of the ring on his organ, the subsequent treatment at the hands of Phaedra and Mora, and the eventual fiery climax. At some point Grady sat back shaking his head in disbelief, but Fyne listened attentively, asking a question here or there.

Killian could only gawk. "While not strictly correct, 'Knight of the Flaming Cock' does have a certain ring to it."

"The peddler, did he say where he'd got the ring?" Fyne was still pressing.

"No, but it seemed as if he'd had it for a while. Do you know what it is?"

"Fyne, you can't believe the man!" Grady was incredulous.

"Do you wish to check his cock, Grady?"

"Fuck no! You check it."

"I'm not the one that doubts him," Fyne said, before turning his attention back to Colm. "I believe it's a weapon."

"Same as the bracelets the Order uses?"

"Very good, yes. You've seen the Order use their magic then?"

"You could say that," said Colm, pointing to the scars on his neck.

Fyne nodded quietly. "Yes, I see. Well, how would you like to avenge that mark you're carrying? Avenge it, and possibly aid the Brotherhood as well?"

***

Struggling to contain his surging dread, Colm let the Adepts lead him into the dim chamber. They appeared to have accepted the forged note as real, but what if Colm's play acting as a slave was insufficiently convincing?

The two were more alike than not. Both girls were petite, perhaps five-foot three. Both had dark hair well past their shoulders, though whereas Darcy's was jet black and wavy near the tips, Bria's was fine and straight, with warm highlights. The thin shifts did little to conceal their curves.

"You've interrupted us, you know," said Bria. The girls turned to consider their visitor.

"Worst possible timing," agreed Darcy.

"Beggin' yer pardon," Colm mumbled. He noticed that Darcy's shift was only partly laced up. He had, perhaps, arrived just in time.

"No matter," said Bria. "Your clumsiness may be forgiven. We have decided to grant you a tiny glimpse of the forbidden."

Darcy shot Bria a concerned look.

"Don't worry sister," said Bria. She leaned forward and whispered into the other girl's ear. As she spoke, Darcy gradually began to smile, then nod. Together, the girls appraised Colm top to bottom before breaking into giggles.

Colm's unease spiked. Men weren't given glimpses of anything forbidden by the Order, and then released. Whatever the girls planned to share with him they either didn't expect him to remember, or didn't plan for him to survive.

"Do you find her beautiful?" Bria was idly arranging Darcy's lush hair, framing her face with the black tresses. For her part, Darcy stared openly at Colm, gauging his reaction.

"It isn't mine to say," said Colm quietly. While rarely spoken of directly, everyone knew that the Order selected only the most beautiful girls as Adepts. Darcy's flawless olive skin and doe-like eyes lent her an innocent beauty which perfectly matched her small, soft body. Garbed as she was in only the flimsy cotton shift, it took little to imagine the rest of her charms.

"Well, I think she's gorgeous!" Impulsively, Bria turned Darcy's chin to hers for a kiss. Their bodies melted together as first lips then tongues met wetly. After a moment the two broke away again. Darcy drew in a rough breath.

It was widely believed that the Adepts and Princesses of the order were as likely to enjoy each other's bodies as they were to capture men for the purpose. Members of the Brotherhood sometimes passed around drawings of young women engaged in carnal acts, obscenely long tongues curled around enormous breasts, or between parted legs.

What Colm witnessed bore no more resemblance to the crude drawings than winter mirrors summer. Bria and Darcy were sweet and slim, and when they kissed it was with tenderness, not cartoonish lust. His organ stirred.

"Oh, I think our friend likes us," Darcy observed. She hadn't missed the outline of Colm's cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers.

Neither did Bria miss an opportunity to further encourage their visitor. She smiled. "Let's show him some more, my sweet." She moved to stand behind Darcy and peered over the girl's shoulder so that both of the Adepts faced Colm. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, Bria began to slowly tug Darcy's shift upward.

Colm was transfixed. Bria gathered the flimsy fabric in her hands as she worked her way up, revealing first the other girl's thighs, then more. Darcy's mound was covered with a dark but trimmed bush which failed to conceal the inviting lips of her slit. Continuing to undress her friend bottom-to-top, Bria now exposed the girl's softly rounded belly, and finally her pert breasts. As she tugged the garment past Darcy's head, the olive skinned beauty's hair spilled down around her face and neck.

He couldn't help himself. The sight of the Adept's sweet flesh, her unflinching gaze, and the erotically-charged scene conspired to further arouse Colm. Almost subconsciously, he tugged at the fabric of his now confining trousers, trying to give his organ room to swell.

Bria smirked. "We've shown you," she said. "It's your turn to show us." Both girls were eyeing him eagerly.

Turning back was out of the question. Taking a deep breath, Colm began unbuttoning his shirt. As the Adepts watched raptly, he undid the series of clasps, then tugged the garment off. His scar, though covered partially with chest hair, was nonetheless unmistakable.

Approaching him, Bria pressed her fingers against the top of scar before trailing them down his chest. "You've been marked." The sensation of her soft fingers against his skin gave him a jolt.

"Yes, m'Lady," he said.

The girl absently twirled her fine hair. "No matter," she said. She stepped back, closer to Darcy. "Show us the rest."

Allowing himself only the slightest hesitation, Colm complied. He undid the simple clasp then quickly stepped from his trousers. His cock had relaxed somewhat, but still lay partially engorged and thick against his thigh.

Bria made little reaction but Darcy's eyes opened like saucers. "He's, uh... do they all...," she stammered before catching herself. She turned to Bria nervously.

The other girl caught her meaning. "Don't worry Darcy," she said. "The Lady gives men no gift that our strength cannot tame. I'll show you." She sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for Colm to approach.

As he stepped forward, Bria noticed the ring pressed warm and tight against the base of Colm's shaft. Tentatively she fingered it. Colm's organ twitched, but the ring remained in place. "What is this?" she demanded.

Colm had an answer ready. "A gift from my mistress," he explained. "She says it gives her pleasure." It was a dangerous moment. If word of the ring had spread through the Order he would be found out.

The brunette further inspected the ring, circling her delicate fingers around it and tugging gently. She paused. "Tonight it will give us pleasure," she declared.

Darcy joined her. The edge of the mattress yielded slightly so their bodies pressed together, Darcy's enticing bare skin against her friend's cotton shift. Bria's fingers were still twirled around Colm's organ. "Like this," Bria said. And with that she raised his cock to her mouth.

A heavenly sensation flowed around the head of Colm's shaft. His nerves still a bit on edge from the fear of discovery, Colm's organ was soft. However, as the enveloping warmth from the Adept's wet mouth soaked in, his cock began to swell again.

"Here, before he's hard," Bria said, releasing Colm's shaft and passing it to Darcy. "Quickly."