Lost in the Light Ch. 08

"I know I'm going to regret asking, it's her own neck anyways, but what do you know of my companion, and what is it going to cost me?" He grumbled. The Mistress slowly walked around him, and trailed a soft touch over his crossed arms. As she circled him she sized his worth in flesh, and ran her hands down the inside of his thighs to grasp his hidden 'weapon'. But his resolve didn't falter and he stood disinterested. She turned away and walked past him to the door and turned to glance over her shoulder at him. With a slender finger she beckoned him to follow. Wolfe was reluctant to oblige.

"Your Sister of Red does not belong with you, she is too foolish. Too headstrong. If she stays in your Monastery she would only die or wilt. You are using her for your cover, yes? She should be set free."

She led him back down the hallway and stopped before one of the occupied rooms. On the other side of the door could be heard the faint grunts of men in passion. She turned on him then and pressed him against the wall, her compressed bosom rested on his chest and her hands started to stroke his muscled arms.

"I am well trained in the arts of love," She breathed into his ear; the intoxicating smell of some foreign spice was invading his senses and driving those suppressed urges forward. She stroked a sharp nail down his cheek. "I could teach this beautiful flower so much. And I have always wanted a wolf for a pet. There are very fierce, very powerful, but also very loyal..." She pulled his head down to her and kissed him deeply. There was a tang of flavor to her lips he did not detect at first, but when he did it was too late. His focus seemed to cloud and he found himself submitting to her caresses. Wolfe had just been drugged. She ran her fingers down the inside of his trousers until she found what she wanted and pulled it free. His man flesh was already aroused and growing firmer from her touch as she stroked it.

"You savage men are very forward, you take what you want. Show me that fierceness. Take me here, now! And I will give you your Red Flower." She turned and pressed her backside to him, taking his hands and placing them on her breasts. Wolf's muddled resolve broke, and he squeezed them firmly as his lips ravaged her exposed neck. The Mistress gasped in delight and slid the secret handle to the hidden door aside revealing a glass window to the room beyond.

Wolf glanced up to see a carnal sight beyond what he was used too. A group of men stood surrounding a lady on her knees with pale skin and red flowing hair. Their cocks jutted out at attention as she took turns stroking and sucking their members into her mouth. When they were ready, she laid back and spread her legs wide. The more assertive took the honors of penetrating her red flower with his shaft, there was a shudder of pain, and her maidenhood flowed out around his shaft as he thrust in and out of her. Discontent with only him, she reached out and took the closest cocks and started to stroke them. A fourth positioned himself behind her head and lowered his throbbing member into her moaning lips to which she eagerly sucked him in.

"I have never seen such an appetite." The mistress moaned, as Wolfe's lips found an ear and bit it. "I have watched them in secret..." she managed to get out between pleasing moans as his hands freed a breast and his lips found the nipple. "She exhausts every one of them as they take her..." His teeth pulled at her large dark nipples. "She is bewitching...ahh! Here, she could separate every lonely man from his coin. I have seen her play the innocent, and the worldly, and now the slatternly..." she moaned as his hands parted her dress and found her bush wet and waiting. He slid two fingers deep inside, spreading her lips wide despite her whimpers of discomfort. "Stay with me... I need you, I need her..." she panted and pulled his head up to her lips for another passionate kiss. That same tangy taste electrified his senses, and he breathed in her scent sharply. The Mistress turned her back to him, pressing herself up against the glass. She pulled her dress up to expose her bare backside and her waiting sex to him. Wolfe took his cue and slid his bulging cock between her legs to her waiting, hairless pussy. It was a new experience for him to take a shaved woman, and he did so with enthusiastic thrusts and grunts as he buried his hard member deep inside her.

Inside the room, unaware of their audience, the men abided their time with lustful expressions. Each took turns savoring the Red Flowers many talents. One pulled her on top of him while his cock was still inside, as another slowly buried his cock into her asshole. This pale rose gasped only briefly as she savored the feel of both men inside her. Another presented his bouncing cock to her lips and she took him eagerly. Even though his companion was content with only her slender fingers stroking him, she pulled him beside the first and took them both into her mouth one at a time, and sometimes together. Wolfe was too enraptured to care; he was caught in the trap of lust of this exquisite foreign delicacy.

"Swear yourself to me," she begged between powerful thrusts inside her, "Belong to me. Serve me. Love me," she pleaded.

"I swear..." Wolfe growled amidst his grunting as he feverishly pounded his throbbing manhood into her, their skin slapping against each others, one hand at her waist tried to pull her deeper onto him as the other fondled one of her breasts and the dark pointed nipple at its crest...

*****

Siles fastened his robe around his portly girth and fastened the belt.

"What a disappointment you are, my dear." He said amidst sweaty pants and gasps. His hardened cock was starting to grow limp now, its enthusiasm spent upon the bare black backside of his Zecairin prisoner. The Mischievous hung limply from her chains. Her skin slick with sweat and cum. Her lungs barely drew in enough breath as the fever ravaged her senseless. Siles lifted her head without regard for her comfort and peeled back her fluttering eyelids with a stubby thumb to stair into her vacant pupils. What he saw disappointed him. "Another failure." He sighed and let her head drop limply.

"En-flairus-gratus-enst!" his voice boomed unnaturally in the dark room as green flame suddenly engulfed the catatonic prisoner. The flames licked her skin and cooked the flesh. She barely managed a scream as it consumed her. Silas closed the secret door shutting off the secret room from the rest of his workshop. The unnatural heat on the other side disintegrated the body into ash and dust leaving behind a disembodied wail of pain muffled by the thick metal door.

Without another thought, he went work gathering bottles and boxes from his supply shelf. One particular bottle gave him pause and a scowl as he found its contents nearly empty but for a dried bit of brown crust. Without another thought he left his study and workshop and sought the nearest steward walking the hall, lighting the sconces. He grabbed the man's arm and gave him such a start he almost crumpled in fear. But when they saw who they each addressed, their demeanor grew more casual.

"Where are the She-Devil and her dog?" he demanded in an unkind tone.

"Out on Father's business." The man cringed as he gave report, almost expecting to be struck.

"Inform me the moment she returns," Siles scowled and stormed back to his workshop.

****

The Red Flower screamed amidst her pile of flesh. Her patrons mistook it for passion, and took it as a sign of accomplishment as they thrust and stroked their manhoods in and on her hoping to release their pleasure during her climax.

The Spider Mistress barely heard the wail through the double thick glass and watched with mixed emotion the erotic scene. But to her alarm, she watched the pale flower turn grey, and then black as she spasmed in what The Mistress realized to be pain and not pleasure. Her body thrashed, dislodging one of her lovers amidst his protest. He was about to complain before she let loose another unearthly wail – this one notable of agony as she grabbed her head and tried to curl away

The Mistress lost immediate interest in her own pleasure and pressed her face against the glass. What she saw solicited a guttural profanity in her native language. She watched the pale red flower turn charcoal skinned a sprout the elongated ears of the elves. The Zecairin she had been warned off was right here in front of her. Fear took over and she ripped a slender metal spike from her hair and immediately turned on Wolfe in fury. He only had a moment to see it coming, before it plunged into his neck, but caught her wrist halting its decent into his flesh by half. But the damage had been done, and he spouted blood out of his mouth as he slumped to the ground.

The shocked men scrambled to pull away from the black demon before them. Their naked legs and arms tripped over one another to get away. Her wail ended as suddenly as it started and she looked up with a hateful glare.

"Fucking Humans!" She screamed and thrust one hand up at the nearest dumbfounded man. Something unseen hurtled him into the glass mirror on the far wall, but instead of bouncing off the wall he was thrown through it and into the hallway beyond and into the pair on the other side. The Mischievous rose in a fury and snapped a naked man's neck with her bare hands. She grabbed another as he backpedaled on his butt and shrieked for mercy right before she drove her thumbs into his eyes. Something sizzled out of his nose, ears, and mouth as his body suddenly spasmed uncontrollably.

The horror beset on them snapped one man to action and he moved to smash a chair over the black demon's head but she caught his arm and threw him over her shoulder and onto his back. Her foot drove into his exposed manhood, and her heel ground his balls against the floor despite his screams. The last man had managed to get the door open and free before the demon made for him.

Shaking with rage and blind agony, The Mischievous stalked towards the shattered glass window. A man she recognized as Wolfe sat clutching his neck, desperately trying to stop the blood that gushed from a small wound, but most of it he coughed up himself from the inside.

Wolfe glanced up, asking... begging with silent words for help. His salvation was not in her furious red eyes he saw, but his own horrible end. As he waited between painful choking breaths for it to come, it didn't, and she walked on to stalk the halls.

He heard more screams from down the halls and below after she disappeared into the darkness. Men and women were fleeing for their lives but dying just the same. At his feet a dead Spider lay squashed, her neck broken from the body hurled through the window at her. Wolfe couldn't feel his feet. So he tried to stand but failed. The floor was too slick with blood. And the cold started to creep up his limps and into his chest. Foolishly he tried again, his instinct was not to submit to his apparent fate but to somehow seek help... somehow he had to stop her from killing more... somehow he had too...

Wolfe saw her eyes one last time. That red hateful glare found him barely conscious, and bored into him as his eyelids grew heavy and finally closed.

Something hot burned into his neck, and he managed to gurgle out a scream. Blood splattered The Mischievous's face in thanks for the magic she poured into his would. Her ruby tongue delicately licked as much of it off as she could reach. The rest she gathered with a finger and suckled it into her lips.

Wolfe blinked unsteadily, his pale blue eyes tried to make sense of the person before him. His wits were still muddled, but with each blink more and more of the world started to make sense.

"Magic has a price..." she growled at him, those demonic red eyes still burning their hatred at him. "You belong to me now, Human." She snarled. "I own you. And you will serve my will." She took his neck with one hand and sank her lips around his healing wound with the other. Wolfe had no strength to fight her, but he tried, and was rewarded with a fist against his temple after she had drank her fill. Her saw her throat bob, as she swallowed half her mouthful of blood. The rest she forced into his own mouth as she pressed his lips to hers and them closed a hand over his mouth until he was forced to swallow the rest.

"This rite binds you to me now, Man." She said. "Do not betray me. Do not disobey me. Do no-" she started to say before Wolfe sucker punched her in the gut, and finished her off with an elbow to the temple. The Zecairin demoness crumpled to the ground before she could finish the sentence.

"No one binds me, bitch," he growled and rolled her unconscious body off him. "Nastier bog witches have tried. You Zecairins gloat too much doing it." He panted and rubbed his neck. "make that today's lesson..."

*****

The Mischievous found herself back in their room at the Inn. Her head hurt and she was naked, but was otherwise whole. Slowly she rolled over to see an unkind face watching her from a chair against the wall – spear in hand.

"Wolfe?" She whispered pathetically, and tried to rub the grogginess from her head. When she saw it was indeed him she moved to embrace him, but his spear tip suddenly found her neck and she shied away. Her hateful wrath was gone, abated or hidden. Wolfe was not taking chances with her.

"Shield this room in silence," he growled the command. The Mischievous pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them to her, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. She seemed to stare at nothing for a moment before looking back to him.

"Done," She said and buried her face into her knees. "How..." she started, her voice muffled by the blanket. "How many died?"

"A lot," Wolfe said coldly. "If I hadn't seen your wrath before, and faced it, I would have put you down right then." He grumbled. "But that would not have brought them back, and finding a dead Zecairin would have made the rest of my work impossible. If we play this right we can still get our answers." The Mischievous pulled at a bit of her hair, its pale blond color upset her, and with a touch she turned it blue with her magic. For all her bravado and coyness, this situation had shamed her into a meek thing. Wolfe saw that, and understood that whatever mystery affected her last night was serious and very dire. Whatever had happened, it was a secret she was keeping from him, and that needed to end now. "Talk to me." He demanded. The Mischievous denied him and hid in her blanket.

"I gave you my trust," Wolfe started. "even after I had once faced this dark side of you that tried to kill me." He rested his spear against his shoulder and took a deep breath. "I know that I am young compared to you, and maybe a bit naïve with my trust. I also know that you've been pretending around me to gain my trust because you were alone and scared. But you could have run off, and I would have tracked you through the wilds. Instead you stayed and helped our mission. So there is something here you still need. Any other man would have killed you and blundered the rest out on his own. But I'm different. I'm still here after all your secrets, and all your killing. You said you trusted me once, and that you knew that I was real. If that was true, you should trust me now." The Mischievous took her scolding with a scowl and lifted her head up to look at him in defiance. He saw in her eyes that have his words struck true, but the rest were wrong – because she was still hiding something that would vindicate her and explain all this. Despite her lies, her face was easy enough to read.

"Anyways," He roughed up his hair with a begrudging groan. "You weren't the only one that screwed up. We both gave in to our temptations." The uncomfortable silence returned between them. With a deep calming sigh he finally worked up the courage to say what needed to be said. "Thank you. For saving my life, I owe you one." But The Mischievous didn't seem to be moved out of her shell. "I'll give you some time. I'll be outside when you're ready."

"Did you find out any information?" She asked in an argumentive tone as he started to rise to leave.

"Not much, only that they traded forbidden and rare substances there." He said. "The Spider seemed to be very afraid of you, and she wondered if The Father was still alive."

"Then you screwed up worse than I did!" she scolded. "They were buying alchemical ingredients, and selling something very dangerous... Demon Blood. She's afraid of me because my people use the stuff to make us stronger, and more... unpredictable. Someone in the Monastery is making it, and The Father doesn't know about it. If he did..." Wolfe looked at her incredulously as he digested it all. "You human men like to talk a lot after sex, and the stupid ones like to brag about their riches and their power, and all the dangerous things they do." She said as if way of explaining her information.

"Alright, you win. I screwed up worse. I kissed a spider." He grumbled with a betraying smile. He thought about all she said and digested it quickly. "If this little potion business is so big, then they stand to loose a lot if it's shut down. But I don't see how they could possibly kill The Father to prevent him from doing so." He stated rhetorically.

"My people's entire supply of Demon's Blood comes from your monastery." She glared at him with dead seriousness. "ALL of Zecair would march on your Monastery if The Father shut down production of Demon's Blood."

"Fuck." Wolfe cursed and grabbed his temples. "Fuck, and more fuck." The Mischievous couldn't help but smile despite the grave news.

"Then we need to make sure he doesn't find out," She suggested. Wolfe looked at her incredulously. "We have to," Wolfe wanted to argue, but he wasn't so naïve as to not see the insurmountable problem that would fall on them if they did. His head slumped back against the wall defeated and he stared off at nothing as he tried to wrap his head around it all.

"The liquor run was just a mask," he concluded. And then he scowled deeply. "Isn't Demon's Blood made from an actual demon's blood?" he pondered.

"That's one of the main ingredients I know of," she admitted.

"Wouldn't it take a lot to supply any entire nation? How long has this been going on?"

"I was given some when I was a child," She answered. "Some fifty years ago, and I wasn't the first generation."

"That would take a lake of demon's blood." He threw his hands up in disbelief. "I haven't seen or heard of any demons still alive! Where's it all coming from."

"Or it would take one really old, really powerful demon, that's had their blood harvested for years..." The Mischievous concluded. "The Monastery could hide one such demon." This news was even more unsettling to Wolfe.

"FUCK!" Wolfe shouted.

"What's more, if this operation is as big as all that. Then they are smarter than we think." The Mischievous said glumly. "They will know we destroyed the Spider's Den, they'll assume that we know, or the Den would still be standing if we didn't. They'll come after us."

"Fuck!" Wolfe dropped his head to his knees. "I really screwed up. We're both proper fucked now." The Mischievous let him be at that and leaned back against the wall, propped up on her pillows. Wolfe let out an uncharacteristic whimper as he tried to think through their predicament. Suddenly something came to him that he overlooked.

"Forgive me," he said. "What of your problem? When you lost control like that, it wasn't just the demon's blood, was it... something worse that set it off. You told me about your dreams, and Silas. Was that part of it?"

"The demon's anger comes out when we don't sate it, or when we're grievously wounded – that's the point of it." She started to say and turned to look at him. She had been crying silently to herself just then, her eyes were red and puffy but she was trying to hide it. "I was in the middle of sating it when it emerged."