Ladies of the Tower

Hello from Arthur! Thanks for all the positive feedback! This is actually a story I started on sometime back that was just sitting quietly in a folder growing cobwebs. I have just been going through and proofing them, and doing some minor edits. This chapter, however, I've done a bit more editing and adding detail. I plan to do so with the upcoming chapters. I hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter-4: Breaching the Temple

Selk, Cira, and Sara crept up on where the sentinel-zombies were gathered at the entrance to the mysterious, subterranean structure. It was really quite impressive, as it went about sixty-feet from ceiling-to-floor, with large columns, and ornate designs and pictographs. But these three adventurers were not there to admire the architecture.

"Okay, so we all remember the plan, right," the Halfling confirmed with the Barbarian and Ranger, "Selk, you stick on me; and Sara, you cover us..."

"As long as 'Cupcake,' here, keeps them off your back," Sara started, "I can cover your retreat. I got about four more acid-arrows left. They should give these things something to think about."

"Well, just remember, girl-scout," Cira said to the Ranger, "these '

things

' don't think. They just react. And that's what we're counting on..."

With that, Cira bolted from her hiding-spot, with the tall Barbarian close behind. She took a sweeping arc at their line—trying to attract as much as them as possible. From previous experience, the Thief knew that she had to stay close enough to get them to follow, but keep enough distance as to not let them get a hold of her. Even though these undead-guards were not that strong on their own, if a mob of them descended on you, you were finished.

Selk stayed close to the Halfling, as Sara kept her distance so she could cover the other two, but not so near that she inadvertently attracted the herd of creatures.

It seemed the plan was working. All but four of the walking corpses were in a lumbering pursuit, and the stragglers would be easily dispatched once the bulk of their number were destroyed. But the Ranger couldn't help snickering at the sight of the tallest and the shortest members of the team running from them. Even the way they dressed juxtaposed greatly: Cira in her black leathers, then the tattered piece-meal of plate, chain, and brigandine that Selk wore.

Once the decoys had made it to a safe distance, Sara came out from her hiding-spot, and began to carefully follow—always keeping them in sight. Her elven blood gave her the eyes that could see in this dark environment. Between the faint glow of the torches from the front of the temple, and the lantern that Cira carried, it was more than enough light to see at least 100-feet in front of her.

"Mark-one," Cira shouted, as the cavern began to narrow to a tunnel. This was the first warning for the remainder of their group that they were nearing the target-area. "Mark-two!" she shouted, a few seconds later, as the narrow tunnel widened into a tiny cavern. By this time, the Thief could hear Kerryllon begin her incantation. Cira finished, "The coney's in the snare!"

The trap closed.

It was a pincer maneuver. They had spent the last hour preparing the chamber-floor by pouring what lantern oils they had on the ground. And with Kerryllon fireball spell from the front, and Sara's Inferno-Burst arrow from the rear, the little cavern would be transformed into a blacksmith's furnace.

When the sorceress loosed her fireball, Cira and Selk hit the ground at a dead-run. Next, they heard the explosion, followed by the sensation of a blistering heatwave. Judging by what they heard and felt, ever sentinel in the small cavern must have been instantly turned to ash. Between the lamp-oil, the ranger's magic arrow, and Kerryllon's spell, there should have been nothing left but a thin layer of soot.

When the fire had died-down, the group walked through cavern-turned-crucible, and found only pieces of smoldering bones scattered about. The smell of charred, rancid flesh was sickening, and Kerryllon and Lia wretched at the over-powering odor, but the others were used to the smell of death—even barbecued death.

Sara stood on the other side with a satisfied grin on her face, and the news that only about four of the sentinel-zombies remained at the entrance.

"Good," Nora said, upon hearing the report, "how are you with a blade?"

"Not as skilled as the bow," she replied, "but I manage."

The Ladies of Lolamach stood over the hacked remains of the final sentinal-zombies. Although they were still alive, as if one could call their form of existence "life," they were in too many pieces to do any harm.

"Should we set them on fire," Cira asked, as she kicked a severed arm out of her path.

"With what," Nora returned, rhetorically, "We have no more oil. Hopefully there will be some inside this place, or it'll be an awfully dark walk home."

Her last statement was punctuated by a woman's screams from inside the structure, and they all froze in response. Looking at each other, they same question was on their faces: whether the screams were that of terror, pain, or pleasure? They could not tell...

Nora thought to let everyone rest for a good, long while, but the sounds coming from within begged for investigation. It had to be getting late, and they all could stand for a bite. Also, a lengthy respite would give their sorceress a chance to recuperate her arcane powers. Unfortunately, this was not to be.

"We need to help that poor woman," Lia exclaimed. For all of the cleric's supposed wisdom, she sure seemed naïve at times.

"Well, let's see what's happening too her, before we decide if she needs help," their leader said, and then commanded, "Let's move-out!"

The entrance was huge double-doors of oak, and over twenty-feet in height, and twelve-feet across. But there seemed to be no lock barring it. Just-the-same, everyone seemed hesitant to try to open it. They had been around long enough to realize that if something looked too easy, then it was probably a trap! And that was Cira's specialty. Consequently, all eyes were on her before anyone made a step toward the doors.

"Okay, okay," she muttered, as she rolled her eyes in melodramatic exasperation, "Danu's tits, am I s'posed to do everything!" The blasphemy of her comment got her a sharp, scolding glare from Lia. "You guys would be lost without me, you know," was the thief's last comment, as she was examining the jam, hinges, and seams of the entrance for wires and triggers. After finishing her inspection, Cira turned to her comrades, and held her palms up in a gesture that gave a sardonic "all-clear" that seemed more of a question that a statement. While she was an expert in finding (and disarming) mundane traps, she was at a loss when it came to those of an arcane nature, so she was hesitant to try to open the door, herself. Besides, it was so huge, and she was so small, it was very likely couldn't budge it with greased hinges and a crowbar.

It fell to the strongest of them to try and open it. This meant the Barbarian. At over six-feet tall, and built of solid, sinewy muscle, she was the go-to-gal for tasks of this magnitude. And considering her fearlessness, that sometimes bordered on recklessness, she didn't even have to be told to step-up to the task. And just as she grasped the lever that would unlatch the door, it was Kerryllon that shouted, "Wait!"

It was too late.

There was a blinding, blue flash, a sizzling sound, and when it was over, Selk lay on the ground, not moving.

"I though you said it was clear," Nora yelled at Cira.

"I never said anything," she shot back defensively, "It must've been a magical ward!"

"The Halfling's correct," their resident mage interjected, "it was a lightning-bolt spell that would have been triggered by anything living touching the latch."

Lia was the first at Selk's side, knelt-down next to her form, and feeling for a heart-pulse.

"She's alive," the Cleric proclaimed, and then began to pray to her deity, "Danu, Mother of Nature, Goddess of the Moon, All-Merciful Mistress, I pray You to grant me the power to heal your child! For she is loved by her comrades, and she is Your ever-servant! But if You should find it her fate to seek the peace of Your bosom, we will know that it is Your Will! Blessed-be!"

With this, Selk's eyes began to flutter, and a groan escaped her throat.

"You see," Lia began, triumphantly, "the arcane is nothing when compared to the divine-power of the All-Mother!" As soon as that words escaped her lips, she knew that her goddess, Danu, would not approve of her hubris. Such haughty words in Her name were a profanity of Her countenance, and Her Shield-Maiden immediately sought penance for the transgression:

"Forgive me, Kerryllon," she began, "I have insulted your craft, your passion. Such comments should be beneath a servant of the Merciful Danu. Perhaps, I have much to learn, and I humbly seek your pardon."

The Wizardess saw that Lia's plea was in earnest, and that she meant every word. In actuality, she really couldn't hold it against the Cleric. After all, over-confidence (and self-appointed grandeur) was a common malady among mages—and all-too-often the catalyst for their downfall. So, her forgiveness came easy.

"Think nothing of it, my sister," Kerryllon replied, nonchalantly, "I am capable of much greater sins, and am unrepentant for them," she finished with a sly wink.

The unexpected candor of the Elf made Lia blanch with surprise, but she took it as an acceptance, none-the-less. She just hoped that her humility would not go unnoticed by the All-Mother, and that her sin was forgiven.

***

The giant oak doors opened up into a great hall, so large and expansive, that the ceiling was somewhere lost in the darkness above. Tall, robust columns jutted upward into this dark void, seemingly without end. The walls and floor were of polished marble that glistened a vibrant yellow in the torchlight. Everywhere were large velvet pillows and comforters of blood-red, majestic-purple, and of the deepest, richest royal-blue. All around them were mosaics and frescoes depicting groups of humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, and other such beings intertwined in masses of carnal indulgence.

The entire hall was alive with lust, and the Ladies of Lolamach felt this with every breath. As it wasn't air that they inhaled, but rather a lascivious spirit that could not be denied. Like the mid-summer faires of the common-folk, the farmers, the millers, the blacksmiths, this room pulsated with pleasures-of-the-flesh; like the celebrations of masquerade, where people could hide there identity, and participate in hedonistic pursuits without fear of condemnation, it seemed that this was the only place for it to happen.

It was only their Cleric, Lia Lunde, that saw the dangers of this temple, and she recognized the deity that it was in honor of, immediately. It was a temple to Lolamartis, Goddess of Betrayal, Mother of Corruption, Mistress of Disease and Decay. This one was a goddess that was everything that Danu wasn't: where Danu saw the beauty in the intimate coupling of people, Lolamartis saw the spread of disease; where Danu saw the sanctity of love, Lolamartis only saw the weakness of love, and the opportunity for betrayal. Lolamach was obviouly named for the Betrayer-Goddess, and Lia now chastised herself for not realizing this much sooner.

The six women of the tower watched as the images on the frescoes began to move, and then stepped out from their home of colorful, polished clay tiles. They were not of flesh and blood, but apparitions—ethereal and translucent. Males and females of every race gathered around them, and started to remove their simple robes and tunics. They rested on the scattered pillows and lounges groping each other. Some were in couples, while others gathered in small groups, as they slowly began to become more intense in their passions.

It seemed as if that the apparitions were unaware of the adventurers presence until they all turned their heads toward the ladies, and silently beckoned them to join.

It was Lia that felt the carnal power that permeated the hall, and it seemed as if it was only her that could resist it, as she watched her comrades begin to remove their clothes and armor. She went to put her hand on the barbarian's shoulder, and take her attention away. But when Selk turned and faced her, there was only a blank expression staring back. She now knew that the other five were caught in this trap of illusion, and she prayed vehemently to her goddess to give her the strength of will not to fall victim to it. But she soon felt it creeping inside her like a ravenous parasite. Either her beloved Danu was punishing her for her sin of hubris only moments earlier, or She somehow could not be present in this place.

At first, it was guilt over her transgression that consumed her. Perhaps, if she had not made that comment outside the temple, the All-Mother would be working through her. But this feeling began to wash away, and was being replaced with an irresistible desire to please her flesh.

Lia began to remove her armor, and as she did, the apparitions from the frescoes became corporeal, incarnate. And whereas they had been silent before, she could now hear their lustful moans and whimpers.

It was a Dwarf that first approached her, and took her by the hand. Although no more than four-and-a-half feet in height, his body was brawny and muscular. Oddly, his beard was cropped close to the roots, as dwarvenkind associated the large beards with their status and honor among their own people. She also noticed that the rest of his body was shaved—even around his large, thick member that hung almost to his knees.

He took the cleric over to a large, velvet pillow where he laid on his back, and she knelt between his short legs, and took his swelling cock in her hand. She gingerly stroked it, and felt it come alive in her gentle grip until it was rigid and pulsating. Moving her face closer to the engorged, purple knob, she flicked her tongue across it, making it jump and twitch with anticipation.

Lia, overcome with the power of the hall, took as much of the Dwarf's ample pole into her mouth until she began to gag on it. She could hear him groan with delight as her working became more fervent with every passing second. She could not wait to feel it inside her, as she stood to straddle him.

Reaching down, she found her sex was already soaked in the promise of the fleshly invasion of her loins as she took hold of his rigid shaft, and aimed it at her anxious pussy. As it pushed into her slick tunnel, she found its considerable girth both painful and gratifying. As the intoxicated cleric scanned the room, she saw Nora being attended to by four Dryads, while Cira was being ravaged by a pair of Satyrs. She could hear the Halfling's moans even though her maw was filled by the goat-man's throbbing prick. And the other was behind the thief's shapely ass, pounding his veiny rod into her depths. She spotted Selk, on her back, her long legs wrapped around a hulking orc. His thick, gray-green rod was pounding into her depths as Sara rode her mouth.

Nora reveled in sapphic sensations, exploding in multiple orgasms from the beautiful dryad licked at her swollen clit and fingered her sodden hole. The other three sylvan beauties about her took turns on her voracious tongue until one would climax, and gush her honeyed nectar into the warrior woman's hungered maw and over her face. Then, there would be another to take her place.

The one that was tonguing her shifted her position, intertwining her legs with Nora's, so she could rub her hot gash against the warrior-woman's inflamed sex. Laying back, the Dryad accepted one of the others pussy with her tongue as she kept a steady synchronization with Nora's own gyrating. By this time, Nora had lost track of the fourth of her new lovers, but she did not care. All she could focus on was her next impending orgasm.

Nora felt herself being drawn into oblivion of a rapturous carnal indulgence. It was a darkness where she was becoming less-and-less herself, and more a part of a "nothingness" that would rob her of her free-will. She could see that she would spend the rest of eternity as a mindless part of this void, only to invite, to ensnare, other visitors to join them. And while this notion caused her such unbridled terror, she had no will to fight it; she did not want to fight it.

Cira was now atop one of her satyr-lovers, riding his stiff cock, letting it pummel her taut passage as she sucked-off her other satyr-lover. A torrent of her juices rained-down on the creature's crotch as her curly, brown tresses bounced with every lunge of her hips that enveloped the others burgeoning rod.

Abruptly pulling his thick cock from her mouth, she watched him move-in behind her. She thought, excitedly,

Yes, more

, as the goat-man's swollen prick began to stretch her sphincter. She came, hard, when she felt him bottom-out inside her bowels. She had never done this before, and the feeling of the two cocks buried deep inside her was almost too much pleasure for her to handle. And just when she thought she had reached the apex, and she could get no higher, a goblin ran up to her. The little monster stuck his green cock into her mouth, and began to fuck her face with an unforgiving ferocity, immediately launching his sour cum into the back her her throat. She thought to gag at the rancid taste, but she somehow relished it!

Her orgasm seemed to spiral upward with no end in sight as if it would go on forever. And, then, came this sinking feeling that penetrated the blinding pleasure, that, this was, somehow, the end.

Selk took in the visage of Sara's shapely ass as the rapacious orc pounded her from behind. His brutal thrusts caused her lover to jostle violently as her half-elf lover's mouth and fingers voraciously worked her sodden snatch. She arched her back as she came, once again. Her hands gripped Sara's dark-blond hair as she gyrated her hips, grinding her inflamed pussy against the ranger's oral workings.

Sara's cries of orgasmic release could be clearly heard, although muffled by the barbarian's loins, echoing off the stone walls. The orc's huge member ravaged her slick box as Selk's squirting pussy flooded her mouth with salty-sweet juices. She felt her tall, muscular lover relax, and let go of her hair, as the woman's orgasm abated. Sara took this opportunity to push things farther.

The svelte half-elf was still cumming as she slipped a third finger inside of Selk's soaking pussy. Then came the fourth finger, and a moment later, her thumb. Soon, she was up to her wrist inside Selk's ever-stretching passage.

Selk gasped as her taut opening gripping down on Sara's wrist. She then felt Sara's fingers slowly, gently, curl into a fist. The next, Sara began to thrust her fist, to-and-fro, into her depths. She could feel the knuckles bumping her cervix as she was filled more than she had ever been before. Another orgasm began to wash over her, more powerful than the last. But, then, unexpectedly, Sara looked up at her. There was a sadness in her lover's eyes, as if all was lost.

Lia felt an orgasm start to stir within her, and the thought roamed around what was left of her lucid mind that she should not allow this to happen. It was just a feeling, that if it did, she would be lost forever, and take her own place in the frescoes that adorned this debauched hall.

With what sense she had left, Lia, once again, reached out to her goddess, as the Dwarf's thick pole pushed her ever closer to climax. The doubt tried to creep into her soul that there wasn't enough time, and she would cum before her prayer was heard, and become of prisoner of Lolamartis's temple. But her faith was too strong for this creeping-doubt, and there was suddenly nothing between her legs... the Dwarf had vanished, and her faculties had returned.