Natalie Beaufort pulled weakly at the chains which bound her and, for the thousandth time, wished she were somewhere else.
Less than a week ago, she'd been snatched off the streets of Aversol by some faceless criminal, kidnapped in broad daylight while on a shopping trip. Since then, she'd been passed between owners, usually drugged to ensure her docility, but she heard enough to know that she was currently in the clutches of a cult with a particular need for...innocence. Some dread ritual which would use an untouched maiden to channel dark powers.
It went without saying that the chances of said maiden surviving the ritual intact in body or spirit was remarkably low.
She couldn't tell exactly where she was, but from the slightly briny air Natalie guessed that she'd been taken to a cavern somewhere along the Dreadsea Coast. There were any number of small inlets and hideaways in the remote parts, she knew. Her father had often grumbled about pirates raiding his ships and lying low when the sea elf patrols came hunting. Sometimes the corsairs got away with it; other times, they didn't, but the prospect of plundering a nice galleon or two was enough to attract the greedy or desperate among the Empire's criminal element, those who didn't mind the risk if it meant a chance at high-class loot.
But the Dreadsea Coast wasn't just home to common pirates. Here, those who were pressed too closely by the worthies of Aversol's city watch fled to have privacy in their twisted depravity. Here, too, lurked whatever creatures that had crawled most recently from some rift in the mountains, drawn either to the relatively balmy climes of the beach or to the chill of the unforgiving ocean. A dangerous cult? Why, to hear the whispered tales bandied about in civilized quarters, a cult was practically child's play.
Of course, as Natalie was currently the captive of one such cult, such distinctions were all but academic.
"Nouhia," the head cultist intoned. "Ki'eyu, enæmi zoubi, nouhia..."
She whimpered. That aspiring whorelock knew all manner of lust charms to use on her. Natalie hadn't picked up much about the cult leader, other than the obvious fact that this was one sadistic bitch, but she could tell that the woman seemed to favor one or two fairly simple sexual incantations. The one being chanted right now had been used several times in the days leading up to the ceremony for no apparent reason other than to toy with the helpless captive.
"Nouhimi makan, sukæ."
It was happening again. What felt like invisible feathers were tracing up and down her body, and every time she tried to clear her head one of them would slip somewhere sensitive and distract her. With a frustrated moan, Natalie writhed in her bonds.
They'd kept her on edge for
hours
the last time she'd been exposed to this spell.
"Sukæ. Sukæ."
Did she detect a note of satisfaction in the cultist's voice? The hooded woman seemed to be taking twisted enjoyment in her suffering. Behind her, several members of the cult gasped as the runic circle amplified their victim's pleasure, the waves of lust radiating into the audience.
"Memoun."
Of course, the cult wouldn't toy with her forever. Now that the ritual itself had started, there would be less room to fool around, even with a vessel as tempting as Natalie. She was to be prepared for the sacrifice.
The sensations were coming on too fast. Above her, the cult leader bent down and caressed Natalie's pussy. She could almost hear the triumphant smirk in her voice.
"Cum for me."
Natalie screamed, the unnatural lust-magic surging through her as warmth flooded her lower body from the cultist's fingers. She squirmed, her hips thrusting upwards involuntarily, desperately pressing into the source of her torment. This wasn't a slow seduction, now. It was becoming difficult to even think straight.
The pulsing magic which suffused her body redoubled, the new sensations crashing over her like a rogue wave. Hardly a moment passed before she cried out a second time, as the whorelock laughed cruelly at her condition.
Helpless, lost in a whirlwind of arousal that drove her to new heights with such relentless intensity that she hardly had time to draw breath, Natalie thought she saw something move out the corner of her eye. Was the cult changing the script?
Then the whorelock whispered a word that seemed to linger in the lust-drenched air even as it fled from her comprehension. Natalie's head flung back as pleasure wracked her slender frame. "Please," she gasped, "mercy! Mercy, oh g-gods, please, please -"
White-hot fire seemed to pass through her, and Natalie knew no more.
---
It was from an uneasy sleep that Natalie awoke.
She was lying on something soft. The light was warmer, too. Natalie shifted uneasily before realizing that she was unbound; with trepidation, she opened her eyes.
This was different. Rather than a dark and forbidding cavern, she appeared to be resting in a large well-lit tent. Someone had helpfully laid out a bedroll for her, and her body was covered by a thin cotton shift. It wasn't much, but Natalie felt intense gratitude to whomever had taken the time to preserve her modesty. The cult hadn't been keen on allowing their captives the luxury of clothes.
A rustling at the front of the tent drew her attention. One of the flaps was pulled aside and a tall red-haired woman strolled in. "Ah, you're awake." The stranger hurried over to her and knelt, unfastening a flask hanging from a bandolier. "Here." She gestured towards Natalie. "Drink. You've been through a lot."
Natalie accepted the offered flask and took a sip. It was definitely alcoholic. Her father didn't approve of over-indulgence, but she knew that watered wine was common among adventurers as a way to keep water drinkable for extended periods of time. The Natalie of a week ago might have thought it uncouth to imbibe, but this one didn't care. She took another, deeper pull at the flask before handing it back.
"Th-thank you." Her voice was weak. Something about the red-haired woman was familiar, but Natalie couldn't quite place it. "Were you the one to rescue me?"
"Sure was." The stranger grinned. "Took us awhile to find the right place but we got there in the nick of time. You won't have to worry about those cultists anymore."
Now that she thought about it, Natalie
definitely
recognized that face from somewhere. The casual jauntiness, the orange-red hair...her eyes settled on a small scar next to the woman's eye. Everything clicked into place for her and she sat bolt-upright with sudden fear. "Y-you're Kassandra Westerlark!"
The notorious slaver bowed to her. "The one and only. My friends call me Kass."
"Th-the scourge of the Ever Forest! The Red Terror!"
Kassandra's grin grew wider. "Those names are also accurate."
"The taker of maidens! The ravisher of virtue!"
