Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 24
21st of Fonic, 766 BVE.
The Ruins of Aslyd.
For the last time, the great brazier of Aslyd burned atop the black ziggurat. High above the ruined city, Aifa heard the flames crackling as the rain sought to snuff out the fire, yet still it raged.
She looked down at the dead creature cradled in her arms. Malformed tentacles hung limply as she met the sight of her stillborn child with a stony gaze. Bathed in the light of the flames, she felt the remnants of tears where they had long dried upon her crimson cheeks, slowly washed away by the rain.
A step brought her closer to the brazier. Gima knelt at her side, offering a quiet prayer she hardly heard. The head priestess of the fallen city had cast many of the great one’s unborn children into the flames. Aifa’s firstborn had escaped such a fate, yet now she stood before it. As the fire raged, she cast the stillborn into its grasp, watching as malformed tentacles withered quickly to ash.
The flames claimed the last of Onaalag’s kin it would ever taste. Her child joined the ashes and bones of Mauron.
Closing her eyes in the rain, Aifa endured the intense heat from standing too close. She had given everything to protect her children. As her eyes opened, nothing but cruel determination remained. Her children had risen. Aslyd had fallen by her hand, and with it, the rest of her species would follow. Her suffering was done.
As tiny tentacles were consumed by the flames, she thought of the human from her visions, a beacon in the darkness. Aifa would find her.
With stern lips she reached down to grasp Gima’s neck. Vicious fingers coiled around the throat of her enemy. As the head priestess choked, knowing the cost of resistance, Aifa forced her to rise as she tried to drag her.
Black tentacles loomed beyond the edge of the flat top of the ziggurat, for her children had been summoned to bear witness to the last of their suffering. With countless seedlings slithering up the sloped sides of the black structure, they waited to obey her will with tentacles writhing in the rain.
Forcing Gima to the edge, Aifa gritted her teeth. The stillbirth hadn’t been the woman’s fault, yet she had been unable to save the child as well. However irrational, her rage had to fall upon someone to be sated. As she remembered the etched artwork decorating the lower halls with depictions of pregnant women being cut open, her wrath fell upon the head priestess. Gima had stood upon the top of the world and burned the children of the women that had come before Aifa. With a kick, she sent Gima toppling down.
The head priestess fell into the squirming grasp of endless tentacles. Aifa listened to her screams. She would see the rest of her species fall all the same.
Rising to gaze down upon her city with a cold heart, the reign of The Mother of Tentacles had only just begun.
16th of Thriduin, 764 BVE.
Near The Sanctuary of The Mother.
Time was short, yet still Darmi lingered in place. The foliage concealed her as she waited. Her caution was rewarded a moment later, for she watched as a monstrosity with many legs and scales of gold, blue, and crimson slithered across her path, oblivious to her presence. With a nervous exhale, she continued on.
Every creeping step was calculated. Her missing antenna only made her focus harder, the other always searching for danger while her tail swayed cautiously. No longer was she the whimpering girl Aifa had saved. After two years surviving alone in the jungle, she moved steadily.
Of course, she hadn’t been entirely alone. The wet sounds of transparent tentacles accompanied her side as she crept through the jungle. A slow grower, it seemed, the bulk of Invaelag’s mass stood as tall as her hip. He was no Vaecath. His tentacles could not pulverize all that threatened to consume her. Once more, she was at the mercy of the jungle, though Aifa’s teachings kept her alive.
It was a thought that always brought sorrow to her lips.
Peeking through the foliage, she saw her target ahead. There, though the trees, stood their old sanctuary. Invaelag’s transparent tentacles coiled and squirmed in anticipation. They both knew why they had returned.
She heard something moving through the vegetation. Remaining low, she hardly breathed as a seedling crept towards her. It passed by, oblivious to her presence as it crawled towards the entrance tunnel. Despite the numerous times Invaelag had proved his strange ability, she couldn’t help but be relieved.
It had started as a muffling of her mind whenever he was close, leaving her thoughts feeling like tiny echoes in a vast void. The sensation was something she could never grow used to, even after all this time, yet she quickly learned its purpose after encountering her first seedling since leaving Aifa’s side. The creatures seemed to feel the landscape around them, always sensing when a sentient being was nearby. When a fertile female was close, they always knew exactly how to reach her womb. When Darmi had nearly crossed paths with one while hunting, she had been certain it would find her and drag her back to Aifa, only to realize that it was entirely oblivious to her. With Invaelag’s transparent tentacles coiled around her slender waist, the seedling had seemed utterly blind to her presence.
Even now, as Darmi studied her surroundings, she was a ghost beyond the notice of seedlings.
She crept closer towards the entrance tunnel. Caution was necessary, though she couldn’t wait for long. The absence of Vaecath’s whispers would always feel bizarre, though Invaelag’s own served as a much smaller replacement. Rather than weaving through her mind to fill the emptiness, his unseen tendrils felt as if they were wrapped around her mind, a subtle difference, though one that felt too unnatural to ignore. Though he had no voice of his own, his faint whispers warned of an approaching horde of seedlings. She had to be quick.
The tunnel descended into the dark ground before her. She waited for Invaelag to assure her that the path was clear before creeping down into the darkness.
Glowing eyes of solid blue faintly lit her way as she crept along. A hand brushed familiar walls, enduring her memories. Never had she forgotten the taste of Aifa’s lips. Never could she forget the sight of her mistress when Darmi had left her behind.
“Oh Aifa…” Darmi whispered with sorrow. “What have you become?”
Dark things roamed the jungle, darker than the monstrosities that came before. They hunted Cavaries until it seemed that all had been dragged away. Sometimes she and Invaelag encountered hints of her species, simple ruins of temporary villages fading away from the jungle’s memory. On rare occasions when Darmi’s solitude grew too great, she dared to seek out other members of her species, despite all Aifa had warned her about. Though Invaelag led her to those he sensed, they always arrived too late, discovering only the bodies of males and hints of slime in place of the women.
Darmi was no fool. Invaelag could sense that Aifa had survived her attack upon Aslyd. She knew her former mistress now ruled the ancient city. A part of her was glad she had succeeded, though she saw the destruction that followed in her wake.
No Cavari was safe from Aifa’s wrath, including the girl that had spurned her.
She saw the light of glowing vines at the end of the tunnel. Darmi quickened her pace, feeling the approaching horde at her back even as they were still miles away.
Peeking out into the vast cave that had once been her home, she saw that little had changed. Across the uneven and rocky floor, she saw the reason they had come. Four young women lay huddled against the far wall.
Darmi bit her lip with guilt at the sight of them, the sisters she and Aifa had doomed.
Seedlings roamed the cave, though she stepped out beneath the massive stone dome looming high above. With Invaelag’s tentacle wrapped tightly around her waist, they seemed blind to her as she stood in the open.
Memories flowed like the slime dripping from the seedlings that wandered about. She glanced over at where she and Aifa had spent their nights together. A part of her wished she had never left. She had to, of course. As she made her way towards the sisters, she prepared to undo one of her greatest misdeeds.
The sight of Wair’s empty cage stopped her for a moment. She needed only to feel Invaelag’s whispers to know the man was gone forever. The truth of Kifi’s absence too offered little debate about what had happened.
“Aifa…”
The woman she loved had become a monster, yet Darmi couldn’t give up hope.
“I’ll wait for you. If you ever decide to abandon this madness, I’ll be there,” she had promised the last time she had come here. It was a promise she intended to keep.
The cage flared her own guilt. She had inflicted many misdeeds of her own upon Wair. She knew the hatred burning in Aifa’s heart all too well, one they had shared together. Aifa’s fate was a dark path that had loomed before her, a warning, a potential future she had barely managed to escape.
She understood. She clung to her hope. Until Aifa’s madness came to an end, Darmi would tend to her own misdeeds.
The remaining daughters of Wair rested upon the ground, slumped against the curved wall of the circular cave. They appeared utterly exhausted, hardly able to move. Slime coated every inch of their crimson skin as they rested limply.
No doubt they’d still be in the grasp of seedlings seeking to satisfy their instincts, continuously tormented, if the horde wasn’t approaching. Their temporary rest wasn’t a mercy, however. Invaelag could sense the intentions of his kin, feeling the horde swiftly growing closer mile by mile. Aifa held a city of fertile wombs in her grasp, though it seemed even her forgotten toys would no longer escape her attention. When Invaelag had informed Darmi that the seedlings intended to drag the sisters to Aslyd, she had decided they must act quickly.
She avoided the seedlings as they blindly crept past. Carefully maneuvering across the uneven ground and around natural rock formations, she reached the sisters.
The sight of them made her wince with guilt. Hardly were they people anymore, reduced to little more than mindless bodies and useful wombs. Irima stared blankly at the distant ceiling. Cirui rested with her hand between her slimy thighs, using what little remained of her strength to slide her fingers in and out of her drenched twat mindlessly. Erimi remained huddled on her side, a once proud huntress reduced to a whimpering ball.
Darmi knelt beside Faima as the young woman rested with her cheek against the ground, her rump in the air. Even her slimy tail hung limply between her asscheeks.
She patted her cheek to wake her. Faima hardly stirred. Darmi looked around, feeling a hint of doubt that threatened to poison her purpose. How could they possibly survive outside? Even with her leading them, hunting for their food, she could hardly imagine such ruined women lasting long. They were in far worse condition than she had hoped, a realization that threatened to doom her plan before it even began.
Darmi shook her head to banish her doubts. All she had to do was get them outside and into a temporary shelter. Safe from the grasp of the coming horde, she would have time to think.
A transparent tentacle slithered to wrap around Faima’s waist. In an instant Darmi felt the whispers in her mind strain, as if the beast had to concentrate harder to keep them both concealed. She doubted he could maintain his abilities to protect half of them, no less all five.
Still, she had to hope. She had to try.
Aifa had always said the world was cruel. So it was, yet she could try to do better. Saving the sisters would never undo all the harm she had caused, though once more, she would try.
“Come with me,” she whispered into Faima’s ear. Another pat upon her cheek opened the young woman’s eyes. “I’m getting you out of this place.”
The first step was to get her to stand. When she was stable, she could worry about the others in turn. Every minute brought the approaching seedlings closer to the sanctuary, the miles passing swiftly beneath their hungry purpose.
She tried to lift her, aiding Faima as she obeyed. Struggling to help her rise, Darmi supported her slimy body, feeling the tingling liquid drip down her own bare skin. Invaelag’s whispers sensed the new womb just beneath his touch, finding it empty and prepared for whatever plans Aifa held for Faima and her sisters. It was no wonder the seedling guards wandered about, almost appearing frantic as if they had been mentally forbidden by their distant mistress from impregnating her fertile toys.
“Almost there. Yes, good. Stand steady, and I’ll help your-” Darmi started to whisper. The sound of her voice seemed to spark a memory within the young woman, and she was cut off by the sound of a whimper. Turning, she saw Faima’s eyes grow wide as recognition gradually seeped into her gaze. “Calm yourself. Calm…I’m only trying to-”
Recognition turned into absolute rage in an instant. Faima, the gentlest and sweetest of Wair’s daughters, slashed her glowing nails towards the girl that had aided in the destruction of all she had ever known. It didn’t matter that she had not murdered Wair and Kifi herself. It didn’t matter that she was trying to rescue her now. A blood enemy stood at her side, and Faima reacted upon a vengeful instinct.
In Aifa’s absence, there had been no one to file down her Cavari nails. Perpetually bound and tormented, her mind broken, there had been no need. Naturally growing as sharp as talons, they met Darmi’s flesh.
A scream ripped through the cave as Darmi’s hand shot up to hold her bleeding cheek and right eye. Invaelag pushed Faima back against the wall and released her. As seedlings scrambled at the noise, transparent tentacles did their best to drag their mother back.
The whispers tried to soothe her agony as they remained wrapped tightly around her mind, though Darmi gritted her teeth as she tried to stop the bleeding. Scurrying out of the path of a swift seedling, she watched in horror as Faima and her sisters were swiftly tackled and bound. The seedlings sensed the blood upon the ground. They pacified any hint of a threat as the sisters were wrapped in constricting tendrils.
Invisible to their senses, Darmi’s heart pounded as she fought to calm herself, not daring to make a noise. Any hope of saving them died in front of her.
She had failed.
Fighting to regain control over her panic, Darmi crept slowly away in pain with Invaelag’s aid. They could feel the horde approaching, less than a mile away. There would never be another chance to rescue them alive again.
As she took a final glance back, she felt only sorrow. Even as she bled, she couldn’t blame them.
“I’m sorry…”
She uncovered her wounded eye for a moment, seeing nothing. She tried to open her damaged eyelid wide, finding that it already was. With a whimper, she accepted the price of her misdeeds and retreated into the tunnel. Glowing Cavari blood illuminated her way through the darkness.
At the end of the tunnel, she lingered, glancing back. Never against could she return. Never could she save the sisters, though perhaps she could still save Aifa.
Her former mistress had become a monster, a cruel tyrant reigning upon a throne of blood. The world would be better off if a blade found her neck, yet Darmi was foolish enough to cling to hope.
With a faded memory of the softer side of Aifa she had glimpsed, Darmi left their former home behind forever.
She would wait for the woman she loved. When the time came and her hopes were proven true or foolish, Darmi would be there. She’d save Aifa from the world they had created.
20th of Onis, 761 BVE.
The Reborn City of Aslyd.
Each year spent serving The Mother of Tentacles seemed to be an eternity she wouldn’t survive, yet still Sarui clung to life. Scurrying through the dark streets of Aslyd like the wretched vermin she knew she was, she twitched at every drop of rain.
Could what remained still be called Aslyd? Their one proud and holy civilization had been twisted beyond recognition. After five years of torment, however, Sarui could mourn no longer. She had a duty to perform.
The rain fell gently upon the black stone landscape as she crept down what used to be a street. She felt it running down her bare skin, the only distraction from the countless tentacled masses writhing all around her. Older seedlings seemed to settle in place, rooting themselves against the walls of buildings. They continued to grow, spreading to cover walls with their mindless tentacles until some of the central structures could hardly be recognized beneath their squirming mass.
Sarui hugged herself as she followed one of the paths that cut through the stationary masses. Only her mistress’s orders kept her safe from the grasp of the endless tendrils she passed by. She remembered the carvings of tentacles that had decorated every building before the city’s fall. Now, real tentacles slithered up black walls.
The seedlings that were stationary did not sit without a purpose, of course. Though Sarui tried to keep her gaze down, she couldn’t help but glance at the women held within their grasp. They lined the streets, squirming as tentacles savored their pregnant bodies. Sarui’s head twitched, feeling countless horrid memories tingle between her own thighs.
“Mistress will be displeased,” she muttered to herself with another twitch. Her tail curled around her fearfully. “Hurry, worthless Sarui. She won’t wait long, stupid Sarui.”
Was that still her name? Yes, she supposed that was the one thing she could cling to. Her body, her pleasure, her mind, her womb, all were the property of her mistress, things that were used against her. The memories of who she was, who Sarui had been, were still hers alone. No longer did they bring her sorrow.
Life wasn’t all horrid, of course. Each bound woman was a reminder of that. A few others scurried about with broken minds set to single purposes, though only Sarui was trusted to serve the whims of The Mother of Tentacles each day. She was lucky. She had risen above the common rabble.
A thought of Thuron made her head twitch.
Today was like any other. She ventured through the city to find one of the old storehouses littering the city, remnants of the former Cavari population. She would return with the tea her mistress had long grown fond of. If she caught her in a good mood, she might be spared from a slimy touch for the rest of the day, permitted to satisfy her mistress’s needs. If Aifa was feeling overly generous, she might even be allowed to have an orgasm of her own. Rarely was she generous.
However, if she caught The Mother of Tentacles in a foul mood, or, worse, she performed her duties poorly, Sarui would experience the full weight of her wrath. She twitched at the mere thought, clenching her thighs together.
The idea of outright disobedience was nearly too horrid to consider. She had learned her lesson the hard way years ago. A single thought of what she had endured as punishment made her tremble.
“Stupid Sarui. Slow Sarui,” she muttered, quickening her steps. Always at her back, a seedling followed her through the city at her mistress’s command. Aifa would know of all she did.
Walking quickly, she felt the ache between her legs, her constant companion. Even as the rain caressed her skin and the petite swell of an early pregnancy, she could feel her juices trickling down her smooth thighs.
Crimson bodies suffered everywhere she looked. Black tentacles took their pleasure, as mindless and instinct driven as their prey.
When at last she reached the closest storehouse, she unsealed the door and slipped inside. As always, the seedling waited in the street.
A squat rectangular building, much of the structure rested below ground. Once it had been a place for Cavari merchants to store rare ingredients to prepare for times of scarcity when the jungle offered little. Now, it was but a whisper of the past, an echo of her people’s memory.
Stairs carried her from the entrance to the floor far below. All around her were walls decorated with shelf after shelf carved into the black stone, brimming with vases of every shape and size.
Seedlings could hunt and provide their mistress with fresh meat or perform other menial tasks Aifa required. This, however, was no place for clumsy, writhing tentacles.
Sarui carefully carried a fragile vase from a shelf to one of the mixing tables waiting in the center. Long had she learned caution, despite her twitches. The punishment for wasting dropped ingredients was a loin-splitting torment she never wanted to endure again.
Cavari hands were required to carefully measure and mix the tea to Aifa’s liking. If it was any less than perfect, Sarui would be reduced to a whimpering wretch, begging her mistress for mercy after days upon days of ceaseless edging and denial. She had to be taught a lesson, else she’d repeat the mistake. Unfortunately, Sarui had been a slow learner.
Now she moved with precision, performing her duties expertly. The constant burning need between her thighs couldn’t be permitted to distract her, nor the subtle movement inside her womb.
A thought of her father’s blade nearly made her spill the cup. Holding it steady with a pounding heart, she fought to calm herself.
At last she finished, returning the vases she had used to their proper place. As she stood before the shelves, however, her gaze fell upon a thin container with a twitch.
For every meal and beverage Sarui had served during the last five years, Aifa had always summoned another woman from the population to taste test whatever her favored slave had touched. During the last three days, however, The Mother of Tentacles had gone without testing Sarui’s work for poison.
Finally, after all these years, it seemed she believed Sarui was too ruined to betray her. Yet Sarui eyed the container and felt her heart quicken.
“Don’t, Sarui,” she muttered with a twitch. “Bad Sarui. You are lucky, you stupid wretch.”
She looked around as if her mistress could see her across the city and through the ground and wall. Shuddering, she dared to reach forth only when she was certain she was alone. Inside the container rested a bundle of branches with vivid purple leaves. Feeling as if her heart would burst, she felt a flicker of the bravery that had been torn from her soul as she plucked a trio of leaves, just enough to…to…
“Vile Sarui,” her head twitched hard as if she had been struck, squeezing the leaves inside her fist. She felt the poison already beginning to burn her crimson skin.
Before it would leave a mark that would be noticed, she held them over the dark cup of tea. They would sink to the bottom, beyond the notice of her mistress until it was too late. Hand beginning to shake, she pulled away, only to hurry across the room to retrieve a handful of leaves from another shelf. Safe against her skin, she concealed the poisonous leaves inside, clenching her hand to hide what she carried.
She had to think. She needed time. The journey back to the ziggurat awaited, and the moment she gathered her bravery once more, she’d slip the poison into the tea.
“Such a stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered. What rested in her grasp could earn her a fate FAR worse than death if she failed.
Still, she clung to the possibility as she climbed the stairs. Finding the seedling waiting for her outside, her fist concealed what she held.
She departed with careful steps, trying to shield the cup from the rain. Returning was always the most heart-wrenching part of her day, and she moved cautiously as seedlings scurried past her. She had no doubt her mistress took joy in forcing her to cross the city, rather than simply moving the ingredients to the ziggurat. It was a minor torment by Aifa’s standards, and one Sarui would gladly endure over any other.
Careful to avoid tripping over tentacles that lay stretched across her path, she slowed as she passed a tall structure built from stone that had been ripped from nearby buildings. Forged by the colorful tentacles of the trio, The Citadel of Cavari Dreams, as Aifa had been amused to name it, was a monstrosity of stone carved into bizarre patterns topped with a high dome. Sarui knew what dwelled within.
She watched pregnant women march through the entrance in a line, selected to serve inside the structure. With heads low as they accepted their fate, one more merciful than most, they were guarded by seedlings as they entered. Late into their pregnancies, their swollen breasts would nurture the many Cavari children housed inside the citadel. The thick black walls spared the young members of the population from the sight of the horrors outside, for Aifa had no use for Cavari spawn until they were mature and ready to serve.
Sarui touched her belly with the fist concealing her secret. She knew a child of her own dwelled somewhere inside, a true son. She felt the abomination she now carried squirm inside her womb.
A rare few women were occasionally forced to mate with Aifa’s breeding pets, the last group of mature Cavari males alive, though the majority carried tentacles within their wombs instead. As she continued on, Sarui passed several women bound within the grasp of seedlings, crying out in orgasm as they gave birth to dark abominations.
She felt a mix of disgust and jealousy tingle between her moist thighs.
Maneuvering through the crowded streets with a concentrated caution, feeling her heart nearly stop each time she stumbled over a tentacle, or when an excited seedling narrowly avoided crashing into her, she approached the central ziggurat as it loomed in the distance. Atop the very heart of the city, she saw the gigantic beast of Vaecath sitting upon the ziggurat’s flat peak. Terrible black tentacles swayed in the sky, as if they could reach up to touch The Creator himself.
Sarui eventually found her way into what had once been the market. Beneath the massive statue of The Mother of Tentacles, she wasn’t surprised to find a crowd of pregnant women kneeling. With shattered minds, they prayed towards the statue of their new goddess with blank eyes. She watched them mutter, naked bodies wet in the rain. When a ravenous seedling snatched one of the worshipers, the others seemed not to notice.
To stand beneath the image of her mistress made Sarui tremble, still squeezing the leaves in her fist. Did she have the strength? Was she still the same Sarui that had led her people through the tunnels when they needed her, or had that Sarui died the moment she failed them all?
Looming before the entrance of the ziggurat stood the trio, the colorful masses of Jynae-bal, Ayaalag, and Cycath stretching high into the sky. Time had made them giants, each nearly as large as their dark elder.
“The Silver Vessel beckons. The years are slow. The centuries slower.”
“The price of forging a true god.”
“We are patient. The moment to act draws near. Assets no longer of use must be removed from the path.”
Sarui’s head twitched, hearing the whispers echoing inside her mind, three voices, though all sounding as if spoken from many throats. She watched the tall beasts shift as she slowed to a stop before them, their colorful tentacles writhing in the rain.
“This one hears us.”
Sarui stepped back.
“This one is the spawn of the useful one. The great one poisoned his mind with visions at the proper time. The spawn’s mind is as receptive of our voices.”
“This one understands little. A tiny mind merely hears. It holds no capacity to interfere.”
She watched as the trio continued to loom like towering monoliths without a care for her presence. Her tail coiled tighter around her body as she cautiously made her way between them.
“The Red Vessel. The dark progenitor. An era ends.”
“The path continues. We take another step.”
“Creation demands sacrifice. The Artist awaits.”
Sarui shook her head as if she could banish the whispers as she reached the entrance. Their meaning was beyond her fingertips, for her only purpose was to serve her mistress. Finding refuge inside the great black ziggurat, she heard their strange voices echoing faintly from afar.
The seedling was at her heels as she followed the corridor. Squeezing the poisoned leaves in her fist, she emerged into the throne room, finding her mistress where she had last seen her.
Atop the black throne of Aslyd Aifa sat triumphant. Brooding in her dark seat, she was far from alone. As always, the latest group of captives dragged from the deep jungle were hauled before their new mistress for inspection. She regarded them with contempt, as if disappointed at what she found.
The mere sight of her made Sarui’s thighs quiver. She felt her bravery die at once. Head twitching, she realized her madness as she looked down at her fist. Every torture, every agony of pleasure, and every aching denial she had suffered stood at the forefront of her mind, knowing they’d all be a mercy in comparison to the punishment she’d face if she continued.
Trembling, the last hope of a broken slave slipped from her fingers as she let the leaves drop. Thoughts of freedom and vengeance were luxuries well beyond her reach. She would never escape. Aifa peered down at her as the seedling loomed behind, and a cruel finger summoned her.
At the rear of the fresh group of breeding slaves, Sarui knew the leaves would be cleared away with the mud the bound women had tracked inside. She dutifully hurried to the side of the throne, her head twitching as she presented the tea.
Aifa savored the smell, taking a sip. “Good girl.” Leaning back in her throne, she crossed her legs as she studied the faces of the women before her. Their arms remained bound behind their backs by tentacles as seedlings stood behind. They suffered her judgement. Even after all these years, the sting of disappointment was never a gentle dagger. Did she truly expect to find Darmi among them?
The Mother of Tentacles dismissed them all with a disgusted wave of her hand. The creatures waiting at their backs leapt into action, dragging the thrashing women away to be broken in the seeding pits.
Quiet once more, the chamber had changed little since the beginning of her rule. Still Audir beheld her deeds from behind, his bones picked clean of ruined flesh as they remained nailed to the wall above her throne, held together by tiny vines. The tentacles of stationary seedlings slithered along the floor and walls as they continued to spread over dark stone, though all else remained the same.
“You took your time,” Aifa sternly chided her slave as she rose, retrieving her black spear from where it rested at her side. “Come. You have other needs to tend to.”
Sarui obediently followed as Aifa made for the side corridor. What had once been her home was now her cage, and she kept her head low as they traversed the familiar passages. The watchful seedling rushed forward as Aifa finished her tea and dropped the cup carelessly at her side. Black tentacles caught it before it could shatter upon the hard floor. She dismissed the creature with a thought.
Venturing up and up, they made their way through the passages until they reached the final corridor. As they passed what had once been the chamber in which Sarui’s sisters had slept in, she peered through the open door. Horrid memories of her father’s blade flashed through her mind, banished in an instant at a sight more vile.
There, against the far wall, what had once been Gima squirmed.
Sarui couldn’t help but pause whenever she passed the chamber. With tentacles covering every inch of the walls inside, she watched as stationary seedlings held Gima in her permanent prison. The once proud head priestess was now little more than a fixture upon the far wall, her arms and legs spread apart and concealed inside the living wall of tentacles. The rest of her was on display, a slimy decoration trembling mindlessly. Despite her visible pregnancy, the tentacles between her trapped thighs continued to tease and lick at her helpless loins without mercy.
There was nothing left of the woman she once knew. Five years of constant torment in her permanent bondage had left her with an empty gaze that twitched with every squirming exploration of the tentacled wall between her thighs. A tendril remained forever down her throat, keeping her alive as she was forced to feed upon its seed, providing nutrients to the child in her womb. Aifa’s punishment for her was clear. For as long as she was fertile, she would serve as a living womb on display, no longer a person.
Sarui shuddered at the sight. Sarui was truly lucky.
“Do you wish to join her?” Aifa asked when she found that her slave had stopped. When Sarui frantically shook her head and hurried to catch up, she continued. “Good girl.”
As Aifa strode forth, she too couldn’t help but think of Gima. After all this time, her body had hardly changed. No matter how many times the woman had given birth, nor how long she was kept stationary, her body seemed always to recover fully. Every year proved the strange abilities of Aifa’s children further. She wondered if she could keep Gima in such a state forever.
Cruel thoughts tempted a rare grin. The years had done little to dampen her hatred.
She led Sarui up the spiral steps that ended at the double doors to her sleeping quarters. Barging her way inside, she returned home.
Was that truly the right word? Home? The giant stone hand she and Darmi had long ago made their camp upon had felt like a home. The old sanctuary had truly become a home. Though she had spent more time in the former quarters of dead Mauron than any other place in her life, something seemed to be missing, a final piece that would truly make the top chamber of the ziggurat her home.
Sarui swallowed before following her inside. She had a duty to perform, with or without her memories.
The first sight to greet them always made her lip twitch. The chairs that had once sat in the center of the chamber where Sarui’s father used to lounge with guests were gone. Now, a small mound of seedlings that were bunched together stood in their place. Stationary, they waited obediently, their only purpose to serve whenever their mistress sought to throw herself into their wiggling grasp and relax, losing herself to the bliss of her living seat.
She could forget the chairs and the blue rug that had been discarded after being drenched by slime. What she could never forget were the shelves carved into the walls. Despite years of effort, the sight of them always made Sarui’s gaze retreat to the floor. All her father’s possessions that had once stood neatly organized upon the shelves had been cast out into the streets. His memory, the collection of his life, all were thrown into the wind. In their place stood countless sculptures lining the walls.
The very thing that brought Sarui sorrow was a source of great comfort and pride to Aifa. She took in the sight of the overcrowded shelves as she settled in, lighting the thin torches hanging upon the walls. Her fingers brushed their surfaces as she passed, no two identical. Each small sculpture had been carved in the same black stone as the rest of Aslyd, no taller than her forearm. They were utterly unique artworks created by the tentacles of Vaecath, Jynae-bal, Ayaalag, and Cycath. Such was their nature to create, and the shelves could only hold so many until their creations had to be stored elsewhere. Hardly could one enter a room within the city without finding something crafted by their touch.
Most were from Vaecath, the first of their kind before the trio began to explore their creativity, though the elder beast’s sculptures were noticeably less detailed than those of his kin. The eldest, he held a simplicity the trio didn’t possess. Their skills, their thoughts, everything about the trio seemed to be a refinement over their progenitor. It was a realization that had occurred slowly over the years, and much to Aifa’s displeasure, she found the colorful beasts growing distant, as if they had grown beyond her. From them she felt nothing of the ceaseless affection she sensed in Vaecath’s presence. So be it. They remained her children, and she could continue to build the world anew for them.
The seedlings, of course, made no such art. The structures they managed to build were basic, constructed mindlessly at her command and designs. In all the years since the first seedling’s birth, she had seen no hint that they held the capacity for deeper thought. Their only creations were driven by instinct, the act of siring new life. Even then they merely squirted their seed into fertile wombs, and nature did the rest.
She had hoped to birth another Vaecath, or a Jynae-bal, or any creature worthy of granting a name. More of her descendants were birthed every day, yet nothing but seedlings ever slipped from Cavari loins.
Aifa’s stern lips tightened with a thought of her malformed stillborn. She thought of the human from her visions. Were Cavari wombs no longer capable of birthing brilliance?
She put such thoughts aside as she finished lighting the room. Already she could hear her pets stirring, though they’d have to wait a while longer as she granted Sarui her attention instead. “Come, slave. Sit with me.”
Sarui obeyed the beckoning finger of her mistress. Together they left the sitting area and moved to the sleeping area, separated by the long countertop that divided the chamber in two. As they came around the countertop, of course, she looked down to see the cages resting against the other side.
It was a hard task not to pity the creatures inside, even as a slave herself. Sealed into separate cages, Pirmi and Rafi squirmed within the tight confines of their tiny prisons.
Aifa permitted a smirk at the sight of them. Reduced to creatures as mindless and needy as her seedlings, the twin daughters of vile Audir had endured the deepest depths of her wrath until little but begging bodies remained. When she had grown weary of tormenting them every hour of every day, Aifa had reduced them to mere pleasure pets. At her command, the whispers had both blocked the ability of the twins to orgasm, and ensured their minds were flooded with a constant lust deeper than any natural need. Tortured endlessly by a constant arousal they could never hope to satisfy, they had not been permitted to experience a single orgasm in nearly five years. It was no wonder they had lost their minds.
Now they squirmed with muffled whimpering. Whenever they pleased her sufficiently, she allowed them to masturbate, even as their frantic fingers could earn them no release, no matter how desperately they tried. Lately, she had kept their arms bound behind their backs, as they were now. Blinded and gagged by thick vines wrapped around their eyes and mouth, their bellies slightly swollen from new pregnancies, they writhed, struggling fruitlessly to find any way to touch the throbbing need between their quivering thighs. Even their tails were tied around their waists, denying them of the faintest stimulation they could cause by brushing the tips between their legs.
Aifa thought of Audir’s spear against her neck as she watched them whimper. She had survived.
Her sleeping mat rested upon a large slab against the far wall. Large enough for two, she sat down upon the edge and commanded Sarui to sit.
The girl knew her place. It had nearly become a routine, placing her hand upon Aifa’s thigh as they sat together. Whenever her mistress craved her touch, she served her duty.
“A moment,” Aifa commanded. She brushed aside the girl’s hand and replaced it with her own. Guiding her slave’s legs apart, she cared little nothing for the girl’s permission as her fingers found the sweet warmth awaiting her touch. “I’d first speak of trust,” she began, hearing a soft gasp as her fingers ventured inside. “And your poison.”
In an instant, Sarui froze. “M…mistress?”
Aifa chuckled in amusement. “Did you think I wouldn’t know of the leaves you carried? You forget.” Her fingers glided deep, forcing a fearful moan. “I see everything.”
Beginning to tremble, her head twitched, thinking of the watchful seedling. She had known.
“Oh, don’t panic. I know you’d gladly see me dead. I know you’d strangle me this very moment if you could.” She put a finger to the girl’s lips when she tried to protest. “Don’t deny it. I know your thoughts and your temptations. If our roles were reversed, I’d stop at nothing to kill you as well. Of course, I would’ve succeeded long ago.” The hand crept between her own thighs, teasing herself. “I knew forgoing poison testers would rouse your murderous intent. I was curious to see what you’d do.”
Failing to be brave, Sarui whimpered at her touch.
“You chose correctly.”
Daring to meet the gaze of her mistress, she began to realize that she might not be doomed. The smallest hint of hope found her.
“Loyalty deserves to be rewarded.” Aifa leaned to meet her lips, tasting the trembling girl. “You will serve me until I am done with you for the day, of course.” she began, pulling her fingers from her own loins to caress the girl’s cheek like a prized possession, leaving a trail of her juices. “Yet if I am satisfied by your efforts, I’ll remove the restriction upon your orgasms for a full hour. During said hour, I’ll leave you to your own touch.”
Fear clung to her, even as the prospect of such a generous reward from her mistress made her thighs quiver. Was this a cruel trick? Hardly would it be the first. Still, a full hour of bliss? Did she even know how to pleasure herself anymore? “T…thank you, mistress.”
Aifa patted her cheek roughly. “You had better begin, then. Today has been long. I have no patience for your delay.”
“Yes, yes forgive stupid Sarui,” she muttered, moving with urgency. She moved to kneel between the legs of her mistress, ready to perform what she had been trained to do. Kissing softly up Aifa’s thigh, she took in the scent of the woman that had destroyed all she cared for.
Aifa shuddered with lust as she felt the girl’s hot breath brushing her lower lips. Already moist with anticipation, she grabbed her slave by her white hair and forced her head closer.
Sarui tasted her juices, a taste she had grown more than familiar with. It brought a tingle between her own thighs as her tongue served her mistress, licking softly at the bioluminescent blue loins forced against her lips.
The Mother of Tentacles savored the sensation of her gentle, loving attention, however false. Glancing at the cages, she intended fully to unleash her pets upon herself, though only after enjoying a softer touch first.
When Aifa’s grip loosened with a moan, Sarui pulled back to glance up at her father’s murderer. Her head twitched. “Thank you for allowing worthless Sarui to pleasure you, mistress.” With her owner’s vaginal juices wetting her lips, the words that had once humiliated her deeply were no longer forced.
“Come.” Aifa guided her upon the sleeping mat, shoving her onto her back. Kneeling between her spread legs, her hands glided up the smooth thighs of her crimson slave.
Utterly at the mercy of her mistress, Sarui surrendered to her explorations. Her tail flicked with nervous excitement at her side as Aifa’s hand continued upward to find her pregnancy.
The feeling of the girl’s swollen belly made Aifa bite her lip, caressing the petite pregnancy on display. The knowledge that her descendant grew within the gorgeous body beneath her was a deeper satisfaction than the girl’s tongue, the latest of many. When she closed her eyes, she could sense the countless pregnancies outside through the whispers in her mind, feeling echoes of seedlings squirting her bloodline into the fertile wombs beneath her control. Her lust drove her, and she couldn’t help but run her tongue over the swell at her touch, making Sarui squirm.
Sarui couldn’t sit idly if she wanted her reward, of course. Lifting her leg, an eager whimper practically begged her mistress forward. Aifa knew her intentions well. Like they had countless times before, a mistress and a slave pressed their needy loins together, beginning to grind.
Aifa held control, as always. Holding Sarui’s leg for leverage while the girl turned slightly onto her side, she humped against her slave’s wet lower lips. The labia of Cavaries rubbed together, mixing their juices as they moaned.
Never did her hands cease exploring. Caressing her girl, her property, Aifa moved her hips as she obsessed over her body.
Sarui’s eyes fluttered. When had she last been permitted to cum? It seemed so long ago. Every stimulating movement was a reminder of her place. Her pleasure belonged to Aifa. Her orgasms belonged to Aifa. Her aching twat belonged to Aifa. She felt a tiny tentacle squirm inside her womb, knowing it too belonged to Aifa.
Once more, Aifa rested a hand upon the girl’s belly. Never had her envy for males gone away, wishing she could feel the sensation of sliding her nonexistent cock into the girl’s tight cunny. If she couldn’t get her pregnant, the fact that she carried a tentacled child was sufficient. She moaned, holding her. “The blood of Mauron…ahh…mixes with what he sought to destroy. Thank…ahh…me.”
“Thank you…merciful mistress…” Sarui obeyed. With a moan, she felt her shame burning upon her cheeks. This was the deserved fate of worthless Sarui, she knew, twitching. Moaning upon the spot where her father had slept, however, she felt what remained of her soul wither further. Her vagina ached, begging for her promised release as she served the woman that had conquered her people.
Aifa hadn’t destroyed her for a reason. The soft breaths, the gentle touches of a fellow woman, the girl was still a person, albeit a shattered one. The twins in the cages were animals now. She watched them thrash in their cages, whimpering desperately as their Cavari senses could no doubt smell the scent of sex nearby. She craved their passion, yet often she still enjoyed the careful touch of a woman, however trained.
“May…ahh…I cum, generous goddess?” Sarui dared to beg, unable to endure for long. She felt as if she was held against the very brink of an orgasm, yet still the stimulation pushed her further with no relief. “Worthless Sarui…ahh…does not deserve your mercy…though please, mistress…”
Aifa moaned, holding the girl’s leg tightly. “Soon…Darmi…”
Sarui endured her rough handling as her desperation grew with every moment. She had learned the punishment for overstepping long ago. She didn’t dare to correct her.
Grinding, rubbing, Aifa could almost find her climax, though as always, she required more. Without a tentacle thrusting deep inside her, it always remained a struggle to find relief. “Come.” Before she’d unleash her pets, she brushed their loins together a final time before maneuvering to claim her place atop the girl, lustfully running a tongue over her hard nipple. Continuing upward to bite her neck, she whispered into Sarui’s ear. “It’s time. Release them and beg.”
She obeyed the moment she was free. Hurrying to unseal the cages as her loins practically screamed, Sarui watched as the twins crawled from their prisons. Struggling to stand as their arms remained bound behind their backs, they hurried to answer the call of their mistress.
“Come. Feast,” Aifa commanded. Rising to her feet atop the wide slab, she watched the twins scurry to climb up and join her as if they were starving animals. No longer Pirmi and Rafi, they were merely bodies driven by maddening instincts, easily bent to the will of the whispers.
High atop the ziggurat, Vaecath knew of Aifa’s desires. He put her intentions into motion, his whispers forcing the twins to their knees. They whined like impatient pets as Aifa reached down to remove the vines blocking their mouths, leaving them blind as their tongues were freed.
She permitted them to serve. Parting her legs as she remained standing, she let Pirmi lick frantically at her womanhood. Behind, Rafi was driven by whispers, eagerly nestling beneath Aifa’s tail to lick at her rump. They were ravenous animals.
Aifa bit her lip at the feeling of their tongues. Rafi forced her way to lap at her puckered hole, while Pirmi practically devoured her lower lips with maddened urgency, drinking her juices. Both sought to taste her, to pleasure their mistress, as if they could ever hope to earn her mercy.
Sarui watched as the juices of denied twats leaked down their thighs without a single touch. Her head twitched. “Worthless Sarui is lucky. Very, very lucky.”
Never again would the daughters of Audir ever feel the sensation of an orgasm. For the rest of their lives, they’d ache in denial. Sarui felt the same ache torturing her own loins, though at least she had the chance to earn her reward. Her mistress wanted her to beg. Lowering herself, she kissed the foot of her mistress. “Please, generous goddess, permit worthless Sarui to cum.”
“Good…ahh…girl,” Aifa muttered through her pleasure as the sisters frantically licked. “Continue.”
Her cheeks burned with shame, though once more she kissed. She submitted utterly to her mistress, going further, licking at her feet. “Stupid Sarui doesn’t deserve to cum, though please, have mercy.”
“Tell me w…why don’t you…ahh…deserve it.” Aifa reached up to caress her own breasts, granting her nipple rings a light tug as she moaned.
Sarui knew exactly what she was searching for. They had played this game countless times. “I am the…” Even after all these years, she had to swallow her humiliation. “I am the daughter of Mauron. The daughter of Mauron deserves no pleasure.”
“Exactly,” Aifa replied with a smirk, savoring her victory. The daughter of the man that had sealed her fate begged at her feet. The twins of the man that had sought to kill her children were little more than animals licking mindlessly between her legs.
“Please let me cum,” Sarui begged, knowing she must. For a moment she thought of her father’s blade. She thought of the poison he had offered that day, an eternity ago. Her suffering would have been prevented. “Please let me cum, mistress.”
Aifa closed her eyes. Before she’d ever consider permitting Mauron’s daughter to have her release, she’d find one of her own. Even with the frantic tongues in her twat and puckered rear, her pleasure was a mere whisper of what a tentacle could offer. She had to concentrate.
The whispers caressed her mind, permitting her to feel the countless seedlings throughout the city. She could feel her blood inside each of them, her descendants thriving in the homeland she had built for them. She could feel echoes of their pleasure as they shot their seed deep inside fertile wombs, getting woman after woman pregnant.
Her species had been punished. She stood atop the world, one rebuilt solely for her children.
As she sensed the numerous conceptions down below, concentrating hard, Aifa finally found her orgasm. Her legs quivered, and she drenched Pirmi’s face with her juices as she gasped in pleasure.
For a moment, she was utterly satisfied.
Breathing deeply as she recovered, Aifa snapped her fingers. Obediently, the twins whimpered, waiting as Sarui gagged them once more before sealing them back inside their cages.
Stepping down, Aifa savored the tingling aftermath as she grasped Sarui’s chin. “Now, you may cum.”
The whispers in Sarui’s head shifted, and she felt the warmth beneath her thighs increase. Practically dripping, she kissed the hand of her mistress. “Thank you, thank you, generous goddess.”
Aifa waved her away. She permitted the girl to return to the sleeping mat. “May Mauron know that every ounce of pleasure his daughter receives is from my hand. May he watch from his grave of ashes as his daughter pleasures herself, knowing that I own her cunt.”
Without another word, she made her way towards the double doors. Glancing over, she saw Sarui rush to spread her legs, on her back as she began to pleasure herself, fully intending to make use of every second of the hour she had been granted.
With a smirk, Aifa left the girl to her whims, eager to return to her throne.
As her fingers glided in and out of her desperate cunny frantically, Sarui moaned. She could endure her torment. She could survive her shame and humiliation. She could submit to her mistress, the woman that had killed her father, for one day she knew Aifa would face judgment.
A single hope kept her alive, knowing that in a few short years, The Creator would return to save them all.
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