Voluptus Ludum Ch. 07

Author's Note: This is a good deal more plot heavy than previous chapters. I highly advise reading the previous chapters before this.

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Crazy didn't seem adequate enough of a description for the past few days. Clair hadn't slept much at all in the past week, her dreams filled with impossible imagery that she knew she would never picture. From meeting those people in a strange area above the clouds, to seeing said people playing each other in a perverse version of Voluptus Ludum. She sighed in reality, sitting at her computer with her deck set at the side of her mouse. Why did her hobby have to suddenly become such a big deal, she thought.

Complaining wouldn't make any difference. For a while she had believed, or rather hoped, that it was all her writer blocked mind trying to conjure some ideas, but that wasn't the case. It was hard to believe that she would imagine such a thing as what she had witnessed last night. At the meeting, Clair had barely noticed Yami's presence, writing her off as something of an introvert, but now she was aware of what that psychotic girl was capable of. It honestly frightened her, which was saying something.

Clair, while young, was wise far beyond her years. In the sense that she had travelled around much of the world, and seen what the human race was capable of. For some, they might've have been traumatised or at least affected negatively by some of the events she had seen, however Clair had come out with the understanding that humanity was cruel, but also kinder than many would think. The people who had helped her and her adventurous parents were unimaginably kind to her. In essence, Clair had come to accept the way humanity was - sporadic.

At the very least, it had helped her immensely in her later life. Or rather, it had. She was a writer, admittedly young, but a rare talent. At the age of 22, she was a bestseller on a national level, and some of her critical reception had put her on par with the great Stephen King. Though that was a bit of a mixed bag, as she knew that King was capable of writing some of the best work of the past century, but could also churn dull, boring, poorly thought through literary works. Not to mention the deplorable film adaptations of some of his work.

At that time, she was sat in front of her computer with a blank word document opened. While she had several books in circulation, and one set for release in a few months, Clair had failed to write anything for weeks now. The day after the tournament had been declared, she had sat at her desk, hands poised over the keys with the expectation that her mind would conjure some fantastic opening for a new story. But no, she was as stuck as ever.

With a sigh, she shut it down and went to her kitchen. Clair lived in a rather nice apartment; spacious, decent furbishing, and in a nice area. She always enjoyed being within walking distance to her favourite stores. It was a one-bedroom apartment, a bitter reminder of her current relationship status, or lack thereof. The kitchen was sizable, complete with a large fridge-freezer combo, with clean counters, organised cupboards and a stocked pantry at all times. She didn't often have company, though it never hurt to be stocked up just in case. The amount of food she'd ended up throwing away was deplorable. At least the stray dogs in the area were well fed.

It was almost maddening to be on her own. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have an issue with being alone, but with the ever looming threat of being called on to play in Sors Nepellus' sordid tournament she was understandably on edge. Not that she felt she would lose, though it was always a possibility, it was the dream from last night that had her nerves wound so tightly. Even without speaking to her, Clair could tell Yami was insane, and in the worst way possible. That wasn't to say there was necessarily any form of good insanity, but Yami was violent. Or maybe there was something else?

Clair recalled seeing the other girl, Karen, appear visibly upset by indiscernible words Yami had said to her. It seemed that the brutal participant had done more than simply pummel the poor girl, using her words to wage psychological warfare. No, Clair corrected herself, warfare implied that at least two sides were fighting, it was a slaughter. From what she remembered, Karen had seemed shy, distant, visibly shrinking away from people bigger than her, which most people were. There was no chance that such a person would last long in this kind of tournament.

Thinking on it, Clair wasn't sure how Karen had even become a champion. It didn't seem like she would be able to last long in a tense environment like a Voluptus Ludum tournament, let alone win it. Although, she thought as she laid down on her bed, looking at the ceiling with an unblinking gaze, it's wise never to judge a book by its cover. For all she knew, Karen was a behind the scenes mob boss of some kind. She's from the South, Clair recalled, so perhaps a Neo-Nazi? She let out a small chuckle at the thought.

Days like this were the worst. She had nothing to do. No friends, at least none that were anywhere in her vicinity, she had writer's block, and her only hobby had been revealed as little more than a way to select possible candidates to be a perverted Goddess's consort. Just thinking about it only worked to clarify how ridiculous it all was. There had to be dozens, if not hundreds, of better ways to find one. It was only made worse that the pairings were completely random in the tournament.

Sors Nepellus seemed determined to do everything in her power to make the event as ridiculous as possible. Clair could only imagine the headache she'd get from being around the goddess for more than a few minutes. If it weren't the degrading punishment of becoming someone's sex slave, she would gladly surrender to her opponent. Then again, the prospect wasn't entirely unpleasant. She doubted that there'd be a dull day if she had someone to call 'Mistress'.

Clair almost laughed aloud. She was getting caught up in all this stupidity, letting her mind run wild like that. This tournament will be my undoing, she thought and looked to her desk, seeing the deck Sors had beseeched unto her sitting there. Even with all that had happened, one of the stranger things was waking up to find her deck had changed not just once, but twice. It was impossible to pin down Sors' thought process.

At first, her deck was rather plain compared to what she'd seen of the tournament thus far. The designs were like something straight from a steam-punk fantasy novel, with gears, the titular steam, and Victorian style all mixed together. Clair had to admit, she did like the artwork, even thinking she'd lucked out and got a deck that hadn't been released to the public yet, however that quickly changed when she found her play mat completely irreparably altered. Not only that, but the human designs in the cards were undeniably promiscuous.

One in particular came to mind. It was human woman, in a Victorian inspired dress, though with a gear-like pattern sewn into it, holding twin swords, also with steam punk designs carved into them. Ordinarily the image would have been one to be admired, no matter how powerful the card itself was, however the visage was marred by the rather unorthodox attachment, that is to say, attachments. Clair always felt her face burn bright red at the thought, though she couldn't be certain if it was out of her disgust for the... oddity, or some kind of perverse enjoyment. Either way, it didn't justify a young woman having... that between their legs.

Despite her fairly liberal upbringing, Clair was fairly conservative. That isn't to say she was against most things, such as gay marriage or rights, however she didn't believe in the sight that met her whenever she looked at that card. A woman with a penis sprouting from her crotch just didn't seem right, particularly in the way that it was glorified. Everything about the image seemed designed to highlight the unnatural protrusion, from the angle to the lighting. Even the girl's expression seemed somehow pleased to have her phallus on view for all to see.

She was wearing a regal dress. It looked exactly like one might expect, long, flowing and befitting of a royal member. With the exception a key alteration. The front had an opening cut into it, designed for her penis to jut out when hard, as it was the person appeared stuck with a permanent erection. Clair had no idea how the creature could possibly fight with such a thing flapping about with each movement. Ignoring that however, the woman was gorgeous, with a voluptuous hourglass figure, with slight exaggeration to the hips to maintain some semblance of realism. Though her breasts were a far cry from the average human's.

They had to be G cups or bigger. At least, until Clair found her deck changed that morning. Before then, most of the cards were tame in appearance, often machine based, but now they were all far more humanoid and with exaggerated sexual features. Standing up, Clair walked over and picked up her deck. It was always hard for her to describe the feeling she felt when looking through it. Fear, dread, excitement... nothing gelled together in her mind. The best she could hope for is that she would win and get the tournament over with.

The problem she faced was the two main contestants at the time. Emily Ralia, who won the most recent national championship, and Yami, whom Clair had no information on. She didn't even know her last name; let alone what tournament she had won to gain entry into the Sors' little contest. Nonetheless, both seemed formidable, though for different reasons. Emily had proven herself fully capable with her new deck, and more than willing to follow the sordid conditions set by her cards to win. Clair had no intention of letting that 'woman' have her way should they be forced to battle.

Though that would no doubt be easier said than done. No matter how she tried, Clair was unable to stop that small part of her that lusted for the experience. All humanity had that side of them, no matter their personality, the side of them that gave rise to the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'. It's instinctive to fear the unknown, but it's also natural to be intrigued by it, because of this there are many risqué items that exist all because someone ventured into the unknown. For instance, there wouldn't be her personal plastic friend under her bed.

Clair blushed at the thought. Even though no one else was around, save for the no doubt always observant eye of the goddess, she embarrassed herself. It was something she'd picked up visiting so many different countries and learning things from various religious people. Most of the time they had one key thing in common; sex was to be done between two, loving people, ideally when married. She was a little laxer on the subject, despite never allowing herself to go far enough in a relationship to give her 'purity' to another. Well, she had relinquished, just not to a human being. Her mind went back to the plastic toy beneath her mattress, her cheeks flushing once again.

Everyone has needs, she told herself to justify owning such a sexual item. Setting the deck down, she moved away and sat back down on her bed, trying to think of something to do. Anything would be better than sitting around and waiting for her time to be called by Sors for her maiden battle. She may not have any friends around, but France was a nice place to be in more ways than one. It was a bit of a cliché, but there really were bakery shops all over the place, or cafes around every corner. Even if she wasn't with anyone, she could at least enjoy a nice pastry and cup of tea.

In Ireland, there was someone in complete contrast to Clair's day. Alannah's personality burned as hot as her hair colour implied, with the young woman happily wrestling with her long-time girlfriend, Stacy. The Irish woman couldn't care less about what she had been dragged into, so long as she had her lover. It was how she had always been, since she was young, without a care in the world as long as she had what she wanted. And she didn't want much, just happiness.

That was exactly what she had at that time. Stacy was a perfect match for her in every way, hot-headed, beautiful, caring, and able to drink proud men under the table with ease. Alannah doubted she could have ever found someone else like her, but she had and that was all that mattered.

"Alright, alright! Uncle! Uncle." Stacy called out in laughter as Alannah pinned her down, flushed from her own laughter.

"Ha! I win! Now pay up." The redhead said, grinning down at her with a superior grin, one that Stacy was accustomed to. She playfully frowned with a pout on her lips.

"Fine." She groaned and squirmed down a bit, until her face was level with her partner's naked bust. She leaned up and took a nipple into her mouth, running her skilled tongue around the sensitive areolae before gently biting on the erect tit. Alannah moaned at the sensation, holding her lover close and rolling onto her back, allowing Stacy better access to her longed after breasts. Both women were quickly lost in their passions, the playful wrestling acting as foreplay to get their blood pumping and give each a pleasant sheen of sweat to their flawless skin.

"Fuck me, I love you." Alannah panted as they laid on the bed, Stacy's body draped over her lover's with her knee poised right above the redhead's still wet pussy.

"I just did and I'll always love you too." She replied, kissing her partner's neck, licking up a bead of sweat as she did so. Stacy, like her lover, and hopefully wife someday, was a stunner in the looks department. She had wavy, dyed neon pink hair that worked with her fair complexion nicely. Her full cheeks seemed sculpted for her wide, gorgeous smile that spread her luscious lips beautifully. Normally, her face was a work of perfection, however at the time it was drenched in her lover's juices. Alannah was always messy when it came to sex.

Both had a certain fondness for their bodily fluids. They often found the best sessions were the dirtiest, particularly when spit and pussy juice got involved, though they weren't averse to some water sports if done right. It was one of the few reasons Alannah was excited for the tournament after witnessing what Emily was capable of. The redheaded Irish woman was a lesbian through and through, however she had a fondness for excessive cum, one of the reasons she frequented the odder side of the internet and she enjoyed the Hentai series Futabu! She had long since believed it would stay a fantasy for her.

Stacy was fully aware of the tournament and its risks. She knew that, any day at any time, Alannah could be whisked away to some other dimension or something and play a game to determine who will be whose sex slave. However, like her partner, she was also excited by what Alannah had told her. Many a night had seen their bed soaked in juices by the prospect of what they could do with someone like Emily.

Though that excitement had been tempered greatly after what she had seen the previous night. Alannah was extremely open minded, despite being raised in a strict Catholic household, but extreme BDSM, or borderline torture, was far from her idea of a good time. That didn't mean she was against S&M or mild sadomasochism, the ropes and assortments of punishment items stored in a box in her closet attested to that fact, but Yami was another story. She hadn't appeared interested in the sexual aspect of the act in the slightest, it was a simple matter of crushing her enemy in the most brutal way possible.

If she ever got her hands on that woman, Alannah didn't need to complete the thought, nor did she really want to. Stacy shifted beside her, the pink haired beauty's large D cup breasts pressing into the redhead's body.

"Don't worry about it, 'kay, babe?" She said, leaning her head up to kiss her lover's cheek, "You're gonna win, you always do." She added with a playful bite on Alannah's ear, causing the bigger woman to chuckle. She turned to face Stacy, a grin on her face.

"Damn straight. Now get over here, you still haven't owed up." Her lover gave a mock gasp of horror, before laughing breathily.

"I was just about to, can't wait to taste you," She ran her slender tongue along Alannah's neck, tasting the remnants of her sweat, "All of you."

"Be careful what you wish for." With those words, they went back once again into a flurry of sex. Eventually, they were far too exhausted to continue. Both laid back, panting as they basked in the aftermath of their 'productive' activities. They held each other close, gradually falling asleep, uncaring about the drying sweat and various other fluids on their bodies. Hours later, they were back up and walking around, though Stacy was visibly sluggish from the sheer amount of orgasms Alannah had pressed upon her.

"Have a nice nap?" Stacy asked as her lover walked into the kitchen, already pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Would've been better if I'd woken up with you between my legs, but alas, it wasn't to be." She said, jokingly and sat beside her, leaning over to kiss her on the lips, still tasting a mix of their juices on them.

"Maybe next time." The pink haired woman chuckled, taking a swig from her own cup. For a while, they sat in silence. Alannah had a newspaper, searching through it for potential jobs. She was currently employed, but it was a dead end gig at a fast food joint, not a place she would want to make a living. Stacy was far more fortunate, working at a music shop. It wasn't much, just a clerk job, though she got to work with one of her life's passions, that is to say instruments, and make some good friends. The two were getting stable pay, thus allowing them to have their own apartment.

It was the best option they had agreed on. Alannah's parents had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't to set foot in their house again after she came out as a lesbian, and while Stacy's were much more open minded, the idea of staying in their home and doing the kind of stuff they did was far from appealing. Well, not entirely, Alannah thought to herself as she recalled the few times they had gotten down and dirty in Stacy's house. The thrill of possibly being caught was quite an aphrodisiac in its own right.

"I'm gonna take a shower." Stacy said, having finished her coffee.

"Aww?" The redhead groaned.

"What?"

"I like you all filthy. It's hot." She said with a lecherous smirk. Stacy rolled her eyes at the woman.

"I never said I wanted to do it alone." It didn't take a genius to understand. The two were soon in the shower, sensually washing the other's body. Alannah made sure to pay close attention to her lover's erogenous zones, her skilled fingers working over the skin like a professional masseuse. They had gone at it a good deal more passionately than usual, as such both women's private areas were a little sore.

"Damn, we really overdid it, huh?" Stacy noted, groaning in discomfort as she dried her privates off.

"Yeah, don't know what came over me." Alannah said, though it was a lie. She knew exactly why. There was a part of her that feared losing. She was always a confident girl, never straying from her own morals and beliefs, but something about Yami was horribly offsetting. In the back of her mind, she could almost see the girl as some portrayal of the devil itself. The fear didn't seem founded though. Yami looked human, even her attitude and sadistic methods were human in essence, but there was something about her. Alannah shook the thoughts from her mind.

It wouldn't do any good to worry, she told herself. Soon enough both of them were dry and cuddled up on the couch, watching whatever caught their eye on the television. As time crawled on, Alannah felt her pulse beginning to quicken. She hadn't seen anyone battling when asleep earlier, so that meant the participants hadn't been chosen yet. Yami could be waiting. Her deck armed to the teeth with ways to torment her, reduce her to a quivering pile of... whatever that Karen girl had become. Stacy quickly noticed her partner's body tensing.