After the door closed, Jormuden was again left alone with only his racing thoughts. Hardly the circumstances he had imagined, though within him there grew a gnawing desire. He wondered if the demons had similar misconceptions about Selanian Vows as many others did. It wasn't as if he hadn't lain with another, though it had been a long while, but even that slightest bit of teasing had him sporting an erection that strained the coarse rag serving as his only clothing.
There was nothing to indicate the passage of time aside from the distant ambience of wind howling, and Jormuden's attention drifted further and further inwards as he tried to make sense of his predicament. The creature's intentions seemed fairly direct, but to what end? Unsettled with the notion of being thrown off so heavily, Jormuden waited. Eventually, the harsh gales beyond the heavy door lulled him to a fitful sleep.
He was back in Evkala, standing before The Branded Banner, the singular inn that also served as the town's meeting place. To his flank stood other Knights of the Order: Halmar, the oldest of the knights present, was giving directions to the gathered crowd of peasants; Granden and Tovak stood at Halmar's side, with the casual yet tensed presence of trained warriors. Further down the line were several squires, youths with barely even twenty summers to their names, and at the other end was Arinesse. It had been years since he last saw her training under the tutelage of Halmar, but it seemed as though she had filled the role of Knight-Errant well. Tall and proud, she stood with confidence that even an eagle would envy.
His vision blurred, and Jormuden felt a lurch as he shifted. Night fell on the quiet mountainside town of Evkala, and he was inside the building now, gathered with the other Knights around a table. Halmar was gesturing towards a crude map of the town, his movement highlighted by faint, flickering torchlight. Everyone's face was grim, and understandably so. The demonspawn had gathered in surprising numbers, if the scout reports were even partially accurate, and defeat was all but certain.
And yet it was necessary that they fought here. Each soldier knew in their hearts that their sacrifice was necessary in order to buy time for what the demonspawn didn't know about: an expeditionary force deployed behind the lines of battle that would seal their entrance into the mortal realm, a portal in the distant hinterlands on the other side of the Evkala Valley. No one in the town itself was likely to live through the night, let alone the next day.
Halmar finished reviewing the defensive fortifications and retreat patterns before solemnly looking each individual in the eye, his face the usual mask of stone. In turn, everyone nodded, saluted, then walked boldly into the dark streets to their post. Passing Arinesse on the way out, Jormuden caught her gaze in passing, the two of them wordlessly agreeing to catch up on old times should they survive with a mere look. He had always fancied the assertive way she talked, Jormuden reflected as he stepped out of the inn.
The stone door grinding open jostled Jormuden awake, back to the present. Familiar footsteps echoed into the room, accompanied by that same spicy sweet scent and the gailing winds outside stirring the otherwise still air in the room. With a thud, the door closed again, muting the noise.
"Sorry for the wait, toy," she said as her footsteps approached the stone Jormuden was bound to.
"Thankfully, there won't be any more interruptions," her voice dropping to a purr, sending shivers down Jormuden's spine and stirring heat up within his core.
He didn't flinch this time at her cool touch, her fingers caressing his shoulder, though he did shift uncomfortably as she groped his muscles, exploring his near totally exposed body.
"It's been a long time since I've had such a fine specimen as you, Paladin." Her voice was mocking, yet lyrical all the same as her breath tickled his ear, her hands kneading tense muscles and pinching him when he least expected it, startling him to her amusement.
Everywhere her hands went, Jormuden's skin tingled in their wake. He felt his breathing deepen, and grow faster. It felt as though she went on forever, leaving no corner of his body untouched. Her contact was intoxicating, awakening desires within him that had long lain dormant. Her hand brushed against the simple cloth covering his groin, his painfully erect member straining against the coarse fabric.
"Mmmh... Looks like you're impressive in many regards, toy."
Jormuden inhaled sharply as her soft laughter echoed throughout the room, nothing else existing in the moment. Desperately, he struggled not to buck at her touch, a frustrated groan escaping his lips.
"Just like that," she cooed, her breath tickling his chest.
"Such a shame you have to be so reverant as a Knight of Selane, isn't it?"
Her hand came to a rest just above his crotch, cool to the touch. He felt her weight shift, her breathing come closer to his ear.
"Don't you wish you could just let go? Take what you want, live the pleasures you were meant to have?" Her voice dropped low, her mouth practically kissing his lobe.
The answer formed on Jormuden's lips, almost against his will. An answer he had to reject and bury deep. His face contorted in the effort to keep the word from escaping. It was as if she had dug deep into his psyche, and brought desires he had long suppressed to the surface. Thoughts of what salacious things she would do if he uttered but one, single word flashed through his mind faster than he could chase them out.
Her hand moved from its position at his lower body, slowly gliding up, tracing a path up to his heart, to his chin. Her finger pressed against his clenched lips.
"Don't worry, toy. I'll have you being honest and true to yourself in no time at all. I'm quite good at it, you'll find."
Suddenly, she was gone. Her footsteps echoed out, and the door closed behind her, leaving Jormuden in a haze of anticipation and frustration. Only what had to have been minutes passed before he felt his senses returning, accompanied by a small amount of dread. In only a matter of a day, she had him at the brink of breaking, at the precipice of giving into her wily charms. How long could anyone last against such an onslaught? Steeling himself, Jormuden resolved to frustrate the witch-like demon whatever it took, for as long as he could.
And so he fell into a pattern. The tempstress would return what seemed to be once a day, coaxing him to yielding to her pleasures, promising an eternity of luxury through servitude to her. Every time, the words leapt up his throat, and only barely, by the thinnest of margins, did he hold back. The days began to blur together in his memory, and it was difficult to keep track of how many had passed. A week? A month? He genuinely couldn't tell.
It had been difficult at first, but to his comfort the temptation to speak gradually became easier to control, he felt himself slowly but surely backing away from the edge of temptation. To the demonesses' credit, Jormuden could detect no vexation in how she toyed with him, which brought an edge of concern to his mind. Was this still according to her plan, his resistance? Doubts slowly festered in his mind, with nothing but honeyed words to distract him from his rumination in between.
The routine continued, until one day when everything changed.
Right away, he could tell something felt different as soon as she walked in this time: the all-too-familiar scent was stronger, his body reacted with more heat, his imagination was more wild. The room had the weight of potency, like the heavy blade of an executioner's axe poised to strike.
His tormentor's voice was just as pleasant, soft and inviting as before, but Jormuden could feel something in his gut that tickled his primordial fears, activated his neglected battle-senses. Her voice had the edge of confidence in it, as though she were playing a game of stones and had just discovered the winning move.
"You really are something, paladin. You've lasted far longer than most mortal men would have, even with that gentle teasing we've been playing at."
She approached, the aroma growing ever more intoxicating, his head swimming in a sea of confusion. He could feel his thoughts getting murkier, as though a thick veil had been drooped over his mind.
Her tone was that of a cat who had just pounced and caught their prey.
"But now I think it's time we have a bit more fun, see what you're really made of."
Her voice was right next to him, her breath hot on his ear.
"All I ask is your name, toy. Easy as that, and I'll give you just a little taste of the heaven that awaits you."
Reflexively, Jormuden clamped his mouth down, but found his reaction was slower than it had been before, his mind frantically clawing its way through the fog that clouded his mind, fighting for control.
"Jo-!"