Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 10
50th of Twic, 767 BVE.
Deep Jungle.
Slime dripped down the girl’s crimson skin. A gurgling moan eased passed the tentacle slithering down her throat. Thighs parted, the sounds of wet thrusts echoed to accompany every squirming movement of her body, wrapped in constricting tendrils.
Aifa heard a whine as Vaecath unleashed his seed. She caressed the girl’s skinny figure, a young thing, becoming a mother with every pump of viscous white liquid that oozed from her loins. “Good girl. Rest now.”
She was the last of them, the final womb the tribe could offer. Shuddering, lithe back arching, she fell limp within the grasp of Vaecath’s black tentacles. The creature lowered her carefully to the ground. Tentacles slithered away through the mud, revealing her drenched body, her unconscious mind forged anew.
Aifa heard Darmi’s gasps from behind, turning to watch as Jynae-bal’s golden tendrils writhed between the younger woman’s thighs. She let her finish as Vaecath quickly constructed a temporary structure around their latest victim. Safe from predators, or, rather, safer, they allowed the new mother to sleep.
“She was the easiest to break,” Darmi said as she caressed Jynae-bal. Over the past few days as they observed the nearby tribe, luring their victims whenever an opportunity arose, the golden creature had seemed to double, then triple in size. No longer did she bother to carry him, instead permitting the beast to follow on his own. “Mistress, what’ll become of them now?”
Assessing the shelter for faults, and finding none, Aifa waved a dismissive hand. “They’ll give birth. Such is what nature created them for. Such is what we require of them.”
Moonlight trickled through the trees as Darmi gathered the flowers around them, preparing to return to their temporary camp. “Yet the men shall learn the truth after their women give birth and they find themselves without new children, won’t they?”
“What of it? Vaecath’s offspring shall be safe, and they’ll seek us out when he calls to them,” Aifa explained. When she saw that her words did little to dampen the girl’s concern, she put her hand on her hip and sighed. “Perhaps the women shall be punished. Perhaps they’ll be clever. Perhaps they’ll even flee. They accepted this burden, Darmi.”
“They would never have accepted Vaecath’s seed if they weren’t restrained.”
Tail flicking with annoyance, Aifa scowled. “They required…convincing, yet convinced they were. All five accepted our commands. All five were fertilized only when their bodies and minds accepted the burden ahead.”
“Yet Vaecath manipulated their minds until they-”
“Their minds were reshaped. Do I not serve Onaalag’s designs through my own will? Wasn’t I myself broken and remade by his touch?” She gestured to Darmi, watching a golden tentacle coil around the girl’s thigh. “What of you? You resisted Nula-bal, did you not?”
“I suppose, mistress…”
Placing a hand upon the younger woman’s slender shoulder, Aifa moved closer. “There is your excuse, if you require one. After these women give birth, they’re no longer our concern. Shed no tears for them, for they’d shed none for you.”
Darmi blushed, offering a guilty shrug. “So you say. I-”
“A hunter seeks his missing mate.”
The voice caused them to crouch, concealed within the vegetation.
“Where, Vaecath?” Aifa asked quietly. A raised tentacle gestured through the trees. A moment later, her antennae twitched as she sensed the scent of a prowling Cavari male.
A hand silenced a nervous question upon Darmi’s lips, and she froze under the firm grip of her mistress. Listening, they heard faint footsteps creeping through the jungle.
“A hunter awakes alone. A hunter readies his spear.”
Aifa grimaced. “You manipulated the others. Can you repel him, Vaecath?” she thought.
“A being contains seed. A being contains a womb. Two creatures hold two minds. One is in tune with our voice. Another is not.”
The whispers caressing her mind grew apprehensive, an uncomfortable feeling that made her skin crawl, yet she insisted. “Try.”
The black beast shuddered. Tentacles writhed, recoiling. Through the vegetation, they spied the first glimpse of the man, creeping along, spear ready to strike at the first sign of danger. His antennae twitched, tail flicking, as if seeking the scent of his missing mate. Moving closer and closer, only the smell of their flowers concealed their presence.
Aifa watched his eyes clench shut, blinking, shaking his head. He began to rub his eyes, peering around.
“No,” the man said, swatting at empty air.
Turning to her mistress, Darmi offered a concerned expression as the man began to stumble.
“No…no…” The man stabbed his spear towards the sky. “No…get out…no…NO…”
Watching the spear fall to the ground, Aifa covered her companion’s mouth once more as the girl gasped, watching the man smack himself. His hands turned to fists, striking the sides of his head.
“NO! I won’t! NO!” The man stumbled into a tree. Beginning to scream, he bashed his head against the hard wood repeatedly, leaving splatters of glowing azure blood with every hit. “GET OUT! GET…OUT!”
Darmi dared to pull Aifa’s hand away. “Vaecath!”
A sickening crunch echoed after a final slam of the man’s head. He toppled backwards, crumbling to the ground. His body sat limply, unmoving.
“What did you…” Darmi watched the black beast slump, tentacles lowering with exhaustion.
“A command lures a womb. A command is rejected by a seedmaker. Two beings. Two natures. One incompatible.”
Aifa pulled Darmi back, forcing her to look away. “Such wasn’t his intention.” She led her along, abandoning the shelter behind them. Vaecath followed slowly, lethargic, his tired state nearly seeming to drain her own energy as each step came with more difficulty than the last. “The jungle shall claim the body before morning. Our new mother shall never know.”
“I…want to sleep,” Darmi muttered, trudging along as they made their way towards their camps.
“Sleep then, child,” Aifa replied, more than happy to join her as she bit back an exhausted yawn. “Our business here is done.”
5th of Thriduin, 767 BVE.
The Holy City of Aslyd.
Constricting black walls surrounded her, buried within her small ziggurat, yet Sarui chuckled as her finger traced over the mutilated slave’s groin. “Truly? You feel nothing?”
Thuron, ever obedient, stood with his hands clasped behind his back as she touched where his manhood used to be. “Nothing, mistress.”
Sitting upon the ledge that held her sleeping mat, a cruel curiosity filled her gaze with every teasing caress. “What an agony.” She cupped his testicles, two tight orbs that appeared lonely without the shaft of his cock. “I’d cut my own throat.”
“I knew the price for my devotion to The Knowledge Holder. I’d make the sacrifice again without hesitation to serve him,” the young man said, his breath catching for an instant as her grip tightened. His seed sat inside, perfectly potent, yet voluntarily trapped. Such was his devotion, forgoing the power to create, to sire life.
“Devotion,” she repeated as if tasting the word, finding it fowl. “Does that claim still hold true after the death of the great one? My father is merely a man now.”
Though clearly uncomfortable with the question, the slave nodded. “He may lack the whispers of the great Onaalag, though Mauron was once chosen as his holy messenger. If The Creator’s first creation deemed him worthy to lead us, that remains true even now.”
Sarui shrugged. “So long as the population believes the same, I’ll offer no complaint.” A finger traced the scar of his groin as her smirk returned. “Still, don’t expect me to make such sacrifices. To never feel the touch of a lover where you need it most?” she chuckled. “Is the sight of me a torture, Thuron?”
He watched her run a hand down her body, a teasing cruelty in her eyes. He could only shiver with need. “You put it best, an agony. If my suffering honors The Creator and The Knowledge holder, I’ll bear it with pride.”
Finding her young, perky breasts, she circled her pierced nipple with a finger, watching him squirm. She savored his visible lust, a permanent ailment, satisfaction forever beyond his reach.
The absence of her hand upon his testicles coaxed a yearning the moment it departed. He watched as she parted her thighs, a finger running between her sweet lower lips.
Sarui heard him whimper, touching his scar with obvious longing. Idly teasing herself, Sarui soon peered about the small chamber, losing interest in his suffering. “I find myself bored, slave. Did father not task you with keeping me entertained?”
“That wasn’t exactly his command, mistress, though I-”
“You know, there’s something I’ve wanted to see for quite some time,” she interrupted. “Walk with me. If father wants to keep me occupied, endlessly bored while he drowns in his duties, I may as well fulfill his wish and find a distraction for myself.”
Hurrying to follow her graceful strides as she left the chamber, Thuron shielded his eyes from the bright sun, descending the steps of the tiny ziggurat. It had been built somewhat close to the colossal central ziggurat by her father to serve as her living quarters. Though her dwelling rested in the larger structure’s shadow for many hours each day, the scorching sunlight felt hot on his skin as they stepped onto the street. “Where, Sarui?”
“Somewhere that now lacks purpose,” she said, not bothering to explain further. The guards waiting outside moved to follow, yet the crowded street parted to make way without their intervention.
Feeling the dirt beneath her feet, she watched men and women bow their heads as they passed before continuing to go about their business. The street took them through a market, oozing with the countless smells of meat and fruit. Merchants shouted to get the attention of anyone who passed, their wares spread out on display upon woven mats. Men haggled loudly beneath canopies, while children scurried through the market, laughing.
They passed women with every type of piercing imaginable decorating their crimson bodies, and men with gold rings on display around their cocks. The moans of lovers echoed from several of the windows they walked by, while others held the cries of babies calling for their mothers. Everywhere she looked, heard, smelled, The Holy City of Aslyd breathed with life, new and old.
“What’ll become of us, do you think?” Sarui asked. “Now that the great one is gone, we’re lost.”
A passing girl caught Thuron’s gaze, her hips and tail swaying. “Our progress came from his whispers, yet we’re far from mindless. We’ll find our way forward.”
“And when my father dies? No whispers shall come to select the next,” she replied, watching a guard shove aside a man that had wandered too close.
Thuron tapped his chin in thought. “I’ve spent many hours discussing that very concern with The Knowledge Holder. Perhaps the title shall become ceremonial, rather than functional. Perhaps the throne shall be inherited through blood or elected by the priestesses. It’s a new era, Sarui.”
She couldn’t help but grin, intrigued. “Indeed it is, and I plan to seize this era.”
His brow raised. “Oh? What designs are held within that pretty head of yours?”
“Designs?” She nearly sounded surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Luck, Thuron. Such is the key to all greatness. I stood beneath The Creator and demanded nothing less.”
Dumbfounded, he bit back the worst of his words. “No one is merely handed greatness.”
“Handed? I said nothing of the sort.” She stumbled, accidentally stepping into a small puddle in the street from a recent storm. Despite her prayers, she didn’t feel particularly lucky. Thuron grabbed her arm, steadying her as she huffed. “I merely need to be patient. My path shall reveal itself. After all, if the throne becomes hereditary, who stands to gain it more than my father’s eldest child?”
The touch of her smooth skin softened his reply. “If it becomes hereditary. The matter is far from certain.”
She shrugged. “If not, The Creator shall provide a different path. I shall find an opportunity to make myself into something more, or I’ll be cast down among the ordinary population when father dies. If the day comes and I find myself among the rest, I’ll throw myself from the ziggurat.”
“Don’t be foolish. Don’t rely on luck, or the generosity of a god. Bleed for your greatness. Earn it.” He met her surprised gaze with a challenge.
She scowled. “Are you not in the service of my father? Is a slave accustomed to speaking in such a tone?”
“I am devoted to The Knowledge Holder, and by extension, his daughter. Concealing harsh truths from you serves neither.” He offered a smile.
They reached the entrance to the central ziggurat as her ire dampened. Stepping inside, she led him through the halls, passing carvings of the great one’s tentacles, now relics of a lost age. When she found the top of the tunnel leading down into the heart of Aslyd, the slave stopped.
“Sarui, you know you’re forbidden from delving-”
She cut him off with a yank on his arm, pulling him along. “Nothing awaits now but an empty cavern. Isn’t that right?” she asked the guards standing at either side of the descending staircase. They granted her uncertain nods, as if unsure whether they were still expected to stop her or obey. She marched through them.
Her own guards followed behind, glancing at each other with concern. Would their ruler punish them for allowing her deeper, or reprimand them for disobeying his daughter needlessly? They retrieved torches from the walls, illuminating the seemingly endless staircase ahead.
Descending deeper and deeper, delving far beneath the ziggurat, she followed the tunnel with step after step after step. Finally, as she reached a set of large stone doors at the very bottom of the tunnel, she commanded her guards to haul them open.
Inside, the gaping cavern beyond stretched into the consuming darkness. A deep silence sat in the black void before her, held back by flickering torchlight.
“This is what rested below us all this time? This is where the great one slumbered?” She stepped closer, mustering her courage. How many women had been locked away down here? How many screams had echoed off these ancient walls? How many moans?
Curiosity had summoned her, and curiosity forced her closer. Through the darkness, she saw a massive mass ahead. The stench of ash and death grew with every step. Her guards stopped, offering quiet prayers.
As she moved closer, she glimpsed the tangled tentacles twisting through the mass before her. Torchlight flickered off the scorched surfaces of black tendrils, curled, frozen, as if they were shriveled statues. Ash poured between them, while the least burned appendages sat in limp heaps, rotting away.
Sarui crouched. Daring to touch a tentacle, she watched as it crumbled to black dust in her hand. “This is what remains of The Creator’s mighty first creation? The great one? Nothing but ash?”
“Great Onaalag…” Thuron muttered. “What have we done?” he thought to himself, kneeling. The wreckage of a masterpiece lay before him, burned and desecrated. “Forgive me.”
10th of Thriduin, 767 BVE.
Deep Jungle.
The constant yearning between Darmi’s legs served only to distract her while her antennae twitched, searching for signs of danger as she crept through the jungle. With the carcass of her latest kill draped over her shoulder, she slowly made her way back to camp.
Having left the colossal tree behind, always moving, their temporary refuge came into view ahead. Tonight’s shelter was a tree of their own. Far smaller than that of their victims, it was held above the ground by roots that had been exposed by extreme erosion. The tree’s top nearly appeared symmetrical to its bottom, branches matching roots, save for the hollow space inside the mass of twisting roots.
Just as her need became unbearable, feeling her juices beginning to trickle down her thighs, she wiggled her way through the entrance. Inside, she discarded the slain creature with a relieved sigh.
“The west?” Aifa asked, as if speaking to empty air. Nestled in Vaecath’s tentacles, she caressed the black appendages lovingly. “Northwest? How far?”
Darmi concealed the entrance with broken branches. Sunlight poured through the countless tiny holes dotting their walls of woven roots, yet the freshly cut flowers decorating the outside of their shelter concealed their scent.
“How many? Males too, Vaecath,” Aifa asked. She shook her head a moment later. “No, that won’t do. We’ll need to target smaller tribes until our numbers grow.”
The tiny fire pit sat unlit. Darmi crouched down, skewering the meat. She knew the holes would provide more than enough ventilation as she tried to spark a fire, yet the touch of something slimy against her rump captured her attention. The tingling sensation upon her skin only deepened her ache, turning to see Jynae-bal creeping behind her.
“Leave her alone, child,” Aifa broke from her conversation. “She needs to prepare her kill before you may disturb her.”
“Mistress…” Darmi felt his golden tentacles prod the back of her legs. “It’s been hours.”
Lying upon her back atop the black beast, a tentacle rested between Aifa’s parted thighs, its tip caressing her midriff. The smallest hint of her pregnancy had begun to show as a subtle swell. “Claim your relief later. You know your responsibility.”
Begrudgingly brushing the golden tentacles away, Darmi resumed her work with annoyance.
As Aifa watched the girl scowl as she tried once more to ignite the fire pit, she sighed, unable to keep the temptation from her lips. “Though, I suppose if you’re going to sulk, you may complete your other responsibilities first.” Moving the tentacle aside, she revealed her waiting sex.
She eyed her mistress with wide eyes. “A…another responsibility? Are you certain you still want to…with me?”
A casual shrug concealed Aifa’s desperation. “You still have much to learn, though I’ll suffer your inexperience.”
The inviting smirk of her mistress lured Darmi closer. The memory of her taste rested upon her tongue, wanting more. An embarrassed blush darkened her cheeks, yet as her fingers found the wetness of her companion, she smiled.
Black tentacles coiled around Aifa’s thighs, supporting her, holding them apart as she moaned. “Good girl. A little…deeper. Nearly…yes…right there.”
Two fingers rubbed inside her mistress. Having learned to position her sharp fingernails to avoid the risk of harm, Darmi’s other hand sought her own urges. Lips parting in a whimper, she gently teased her sensitive bud, aching at the sight of her companion.
Aifa rested her arms above her head, savoring the younger girl’s touch. When black tentacles began to constrict around her wrists, she allowed their forceful hold. “Gently, Vaecath.”
Neither woman granted the tentacle slithering up her thigh any notice, for others caressed her restrained legs lovingly. The explorer, however, sought a specific target, venturing to brush its tip against the entrance to her rump.
Aifa yelped at the strange sensation. She offered a nervous chuckle, perhaps the most vulnerable gesture Darmi had ever witnessed from her. “No…Vaecath. You’ll have your turn when she’s finished.”
The slimy tentacle tickled her puckered entrance with gentle licks, making her squirm.
“Not in there. Understood?”
Darmi continued to rub, biting her lip with curiosity. “Mistress, should I…stop him?”
“Vaecath, I said…that’s the wrong hole. Stop,” Aifa commanded, even as the whispers caressing her mind attempted to sooth her. The tip began to push, dipping inside her clenching tightness as she tried to keep him out. “Stop. STOP!”
The tip tested her unexplored hole by an inch, then another.
Yanking on her restraints, Aifa realized he wouldn’t release her, disobeying. “No, Vaecath! I’ve…we’ve never…ahhh…”
Dripping, Darmi watched the tentacle slide into the rump of her mistress with wide eyes, frozen. A cry turned to a groan as Aifa’s back arched, hands clenching into fists.
Wiggling inside, the tentacle explored, careful to avoid harming her rear. Lubricating slime eased its slippery movements, sliding in and out.
Aifa held back a whimper, lips parted, stunned. She felt the tingling liquid coating her insides as the curious appendage ventured inch by inch, retreating to grant her body time to adjust. “Vae…ahh…Vaecath…”
Movements turned to thrusts, pushing deeper and deeper. The whispers massaged her mind, dissolving any possible pain.
“Darmi…he’s…” Aifa moaned, relaxing her fists as she melted into the beast’s hold.
An intrigued envy filled the younger woman, a finger circling her own aching clit. “How does it feel, mistress?”
Head rolling back, Aifa groaned as the tentacle’s gradual girth began to strain her inexperienced rump. “Don’t…ahh…don’t you dare neglect…your responsibility…”
All too eager to ensure that the vagina of her mistress did not go ignored, she pulled her fingers free, replacing them with her tongue. Nearly as dexterous as the tentacle in her rump, it lapped gently at Aifa’s clit, tasting her juices.
Her clumsy movements made Aifa throb, feeling the tentacle pushing deeper and deeper inside her body. “More…Darmi…”
A long, bioluminescent blue Cavari tongue met glowing blue labia, tracing its pointed tip between her sensitive folds. Uncertain what she was doing, Darmi watched the reactions of her companion closely, adjusting to increase her pleasure. When she slid inside, she watched Aifa’s tail coil in satisfaction as it danced at her side.
“He’s…deep. Deeper than…ahh…I ever thought possible,” Aifa moaned. The feeling of violation had vanished, savoring every push. She felt the tentacle squirming inside her, rubbing areas that had never been touched. “Fuck…oohhh…”
Tongue serving her mistress, the crimson skin of Darmi’s thighs felt drenched. Curiosity turned to jealousy, her craving summoning a beast. She remained bent over, rump raised, head between Aifa’s parted thighs.
Knowing her mind, a golden tentacle caressed her rear. Teasing, slithering towards its target, she giggled, heart fluttering as it brushed her tight entrance.
“Please, Jynae-bal,” she thought as her tongue continued, wiggling her rear as if to tempt him. Her thin tail lifted, offering no resistance.
As the tip began to slide inside, she moaned against the glowing labia of her mistress. It continued deeper, making her squeak, no longer certain if she could take him. The tentacle merely pushed through her clenching resistance, gliding into the tight depths of her rear.
Aifa watched the girl’s eyes roll back briefly as her own moans echoed. Never had more than a curious finger explored her neglected hole before, only to pull away with hesitation each time. Now, Vaecath grew to know her body better than any other being. She wanted him to touch every inch he could reach, to know the entire truth of her, leaving nothing unknown. Her affection deepened with every thrust, feeling their minds dance. With a cry, her back arched as she found her finish.
Darmi lapped at her companion’s juices as her chin was utterly soaked, moaning for more. Jynae-bal glided in and out as her fingers slid into her own needy sex, fingers working with desperation.
Aifa’s pleasure forced her to pull at the tentacles binding her arms and legs. They held her tightly, offering no leniency. A hint of worry found her, only to be banished as she felt a warmth flooding inside her.
Pump after pump after pump, the tentacle spewed Vaecath’s seed into her tightness. She cried out, feeling it flow throughout her deepest depths, a sensation stranger than any she had felt. It poured through her until it began to ooze from her rear, making Darmi gasp in surprise. Quickly, she began to lick at her mistress’s strained hole, obsessing over the taste.
“The Red Vessel serves her purpose. The Red Vessel is claimed.”
Tentacles continued to caress Aifa’s subtle pregnancy as her eyes rolled back. A moment later, as if to match her bliss, Darmi began to seize, feeling the golden tentacle shooting viscous sperm into her rump. It quickly dripped down her thighs, pooling on the ground.
“Vaecath…” Aifa thought when she could think again, panting. “Release me.”
Slowly, the black tentacle began to withdraw. The sensation forced her lips apart in a moan. Inch after inch slid out of her rump, seeming never to end. Finally, she moaned in relief as the tip left her rectum. Her strained insides relaxed, tingling, drenched.
“Release me, child,” she repeated with a building unease. When her restraints finally obeyed, she pulled her limbs from their loosened holds.
Darmi rolled onto her side, eyes lost in pleasure. A second golden tentacle wiggled between her thighs to find her aching bud. As the girl moaned, Aifa merely watched, sitting beside the fire.
She felt his seed ooze from her rear continuously as she rested, watching Darmi squirm. The black tentacle that had been inside her reached over to brush against her cheek. She granted it a kiss, sighing in satisfaction.
A squeak echoed as Darmi’s petite body clenched up, her thighs drenched in sweet juices and seed. Finally, she fell limp on her side as the tentacle pulled from her rump, its tip shooting a rope of thick sperm across her asscheek and hip.
Aifa watched the girl breathe in amusement, allowing her to recover before commanding her to cook the meat. The girl merely nodded, rising from the ground only when she could muster the strength.
***
In the darkness, Aifa stared at the ceiling of twisting roots. The fire had burned to ash, the meat consumed. Darmi’s breaths came softly from her side, yet still she could find no rest.
They’d depart at the first light from the sun. The direction they’d follow, however, was more of a question. Tribes could be found in all directions. They simply had to find one small enough, a manageable group they could follow and pick off without being seen.
Several candidates had been presented by Vaecath. She weighed their options, pondering, running plans endlessly through her mind over and over until she felt certain.
She could focus on the task ahead all she wanted, but in truth, another thought clung to her subconscious. Vaecath had disobeyed.
It was a small thing, the result of which still tingled pleasantly inside her. Still, the thought gave her an unease she hadn’t expected. Was it possible to lose control over these beasts? No, certainly not. They were of her blood, her children, her only family. Still…
“The Red Vessel must flee.”
The voice boomed inside her mind. She grabbed her head with discomfort, watching Darmi snap awake to do the same.
“What are you-”
“Flee. Flee. Flee.”
Aifa focused her senses while Darmi grimaced in pain. Her antennae twitched, searching the area. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The familiar scent of the jungle wafted around them, just as it had the day before.
She jumped to her feet the moment the smell reached her. Grabbing Darmi, she yanked the girl upwards, hearing her protests. As her companion focused, however, her eyes opened wide.
“They found us…”
Aifa tore aside the branches concealing the entrance, pulling the girl by the hand, taking nothing from their shelter.
“How is this possible? We…we left no trail!” Darmi muttered, fear dripping from her lips as she grabbed Jynae-bal’s golden tentacle, leading him along. The scent of several Cavari males made her antennae twitch, distant, yet increasing.
Granting no answer, Aifa rushed through the trees, away from the approaching scent. Her companions followed, tentacles tearing through the vegetation.
“How?” Darmi repeated. “How?”
They were too distant to smell individuals, yet Aifa held no doubt that one man in particular was among them. The thought of him brought a pained ache between her sprinting legs, a memory that made her run harder with a grimace of rage.
“Audir.”
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