Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #40 - Charlie and the Convent of Oblivion (II)
Keywords: MF, FF, mc
Posted: May 3, 2013
Edited: May 3, 2013




			  The Adjusters #40


	       Charlie and the Convent of Oblivion (II)



Story by J. Dumas. First appeared in Flights of Erotic Fantasy
Magazine, Vol. 13, Nos. 7-8.


				 (4)


Help me. Those words, mouthed by a briefly clear-eyed Charlie,
distressed Sarah of Charnia, keeping her company throughout the day
and invading her dreams at night. That the plea came after Sarah had
experienced an almost mystical experience at the hands and tongue of
the beautiful dark-haired young woman cemented the poignancy that
suffused Charlie's supplication. For Sarah carried the memory of her
time with Charlie like a treasured gem in her heart, unwilling to face
the meaning of her actions and associated emotions, but relishing the
pleasure she had experienced.

Sarah did not entirely succeed in camouflaging her troubled mind, but
Gertrude, who kept a sharp eye on the other novices, mistook Sarah's
agitation for the emotional charge of the young woman's first lesbian
encounter.

Gertrude, always on the lookout for new novices to bring under her
wings and guide and control--for they provided a small but
non-negligible foothold of power within the Covenant--was more than
willing to use Charlie as the temptation with which to ensnare
Sarah. And if temptation did not suffice, Gertrude determined,
blackmail would be an equally effective mean of persuasion.

During the day, whenever Gertrude was busy, Sarah would sneak a peek
at Charlie, who remained locked in her draught-induced sleep, and
would remember how those fingers and those lips and those breasts felt
on her body, the memories never failing to send delicious tingles to
her pussy.

Sarah understood why Charlie had to receive the quieting draught, of
course--she had seen first-hand the effect of the blood fever that
plagued Charlie, had seen and thoroughly enjoyed it. That her pleasure
had been bought with the coin of blood sin ate at Sarah almost as much
as the plea from Charlie.

Help me. What had Charlie meant? Help her with her blood fever? How
could Sarah do anything in that respect? She was neither a medicine
woman nor a sorceress; she knew nothing of either illnesses or
curses. Help her get out of the clutches of High Novice Gertrude? But
how? For all intents and purposes, as Sarah was quietly discovering,
Gertrude was the Mistress of the Ward, viewing it and treating it as
her personal dominion. Her blood gatherings brought money and power to
the elder novice.

In the weeks that followed, Sarah participated in more of those blood
gatherings, so as not to arouse Gertrude's suspicion. She sometimes
entertained patrons while they waited for a blood sinner to be free, a
blood sinner to spend an hour with whom they had paid a hefty gold
price--an hour with a beautiful young woman with a very pliable mind
under the auspices of the quieting draught, a young woman who had no
will to protest.

Charlie was by far the most popular of the blood sinners, despite
being the most expensive by a remarkable margin: not only was she
beautiful and with the body of goddess, she was strong and sexy and
skillful; unlike the other blood sinners under sway of the quieting
draught, she was not a docile and passive receptacle for men's
degenerate lust, but active and aggressive, full of energy, vigor, and
hunger for the act of love. She was also strong and trained in the
ways of the warrior, and those men that did not enjoy being dominated
by a strong woman delighted in the allure of breaking and subduing
such a specimen and taking their selfish pleasure with her.

Signore di Viroli, not quite a lord but of noble descent, was of the
latter sort. He was popular with the feminine gent, and enjoyed the
game of courtship and seduction like most in his position, but his
blood ran hot mainly for more sporting encounters--he approached his
love-making like he approach combat, as a mental and physical
struggle--and it went without saying that Signore di Viroli did not
find in the delicate and fragile flowers of the aristocratic circles
in which he evolved the necessary companions to satiate his lust. Nor
did he find among the most lowly pleasure girls of the underworld the
requisite mix of beauty and brawn--those women that were capable of
performing at his high level of physical and mental violence usually
looked no better than dogs, and he was more liable to start beating
them up than fucking them.

All of which went a long way to explain why finding Charlie was such a
boon to Signore di Viroli. That such a remarkable woman was to be
found in a highly questionable activity that not only bordered on
immorality and illegality, but also amounted to a perversion of the
mission of a Theistic Order devoted to love and righteousness, was
merely an additional spice to an already flavorful dish.

So taken was Signore di Viroli with the former knight of the Royal
Guard that he had been pressuring High Novice Gertrude to sell him the
warrior, asking her to name her price. He was rich, and overwhelmed
with a lust that went so deep so as to mimic love, a combination that
afforded him little patience with High Novice Gertrude's light but
stubborn refusals. Gertrude had been graced with an intelligence that,
while it might not have allowed her to complete a course of study at
the Monastic College in Portia had she been born a man, was like that
of a rat, an intelligence concerned with survival at any cost; and so
she sensed that Signore di Viroli was willing to go to great lengths
to acquire Charlie, and it made her nervous.

Sarah, meanwhile, was unaware of any of these underlying tensions,
although she had taken a severe dislike to Signore di Viroli, whom she
had cause to encounter often at Gertrude's blood gatherings, if only
because his obsession towards Charlie rivaled her own. The nobleman
never failed to flirt with Sarah, more than once running his lecherous
eyes over her body, managing to make the fair-haired novice feel no
better than naked even though she wore the chaste robes of the
Covenant. That his looks made her think of Lord Charnia helped not at
all.

And yet Sarah knew, every time Signore di Viroli looked at her like a
falcon tracking a field mouse, that il Signore was really thinking
about Charlie, thinking about entering the plain room with the stone
walls that Gertrude reserved for the knight, thinking about fighting
with the crazed warrior who wanted nothing more than to swallow his
cock whole before climbing on top of him and ravishing him--unless
that day he managed to subdue her enough that he could push her down
onto her knees and take her from behind in her most tight and private
of holes while she squirmed in that combination of pain and ecstasy
that drove him so wild he could hardly contain his shouts of triumphs.

That knowledge drove Sarah insane with jealousy, not only that il
Signore took pleasure with the woman that Sarah was slowly realizing
she had fallen in love with, but also from the suspicion fomented by
her insecurity that Signore di Viroli could give Charlie pleasures
that were simply impossible for poor inexperienced Sarah to
provide. That thought depressed her most of all. She felt so alone
that she cried herself to sleep many a night.

Help me. Those words were always at the foremost of her mind,
especially when Gertrude allowed Sarah to spend time with Charlie
after Signore di Viroli or any of the other admirers of the knight
were done with her. At the end of many a blood gathering, Sarah had
witnessed the state in which her fallen warrior was left, always with
the onyx shaft pushing in and out of her womanhood, her eyes closed,
her lust temporarily sated, her breasts, her ass, her thighs marked
and bruised, her pussy raw and abused, her skin caked with male semen
that Sarah lovingly washed off before Charlie's blood fever ignited
once more and she and Sarah consummated their love until Sarah passed
out from the pleasures that Charlie knew so well how to pull from her
body.

And so Sarah tried to find a way to help Charlie, not knowing what
form that help might take, but driven to do something, anything, to
save her love, the way she had failed to do with Fawn.

The idea came to Sarah one evening as she watched the novices silently
distribute the quieting draught to the blood sinners of the ward. And
it was so simple that she berated herself for not thinking of it
sooner. Charlie's moment of lucidity, when she had mouthed those
fateful words--help me--had come about as Charlie was sliding under
the effect of the quieting draught, but before the full effect of the
draught knocked her out. Which suggested that a smaller dose might
keep Charlie somewhat lucid, and maybe able to resist the drives of
her blood fever. This seed of an idea germinated into a plan by the
next evening.

It took some time for Sarah to determine how best to make her plan
come to fruition. She knew she needed a half-strength quieting draught
for Charlie, but she did not have access to the kitchens. She
contemplated getting shifted to kitchen duties, but she dismissed the
notion rapidly since she would also need ward access to be able to
interact with Charlie, assuming her plan worked.

Which left finding a way to bribe the novices in charge of the
kitchen, or more specifically, the novices in charge of preparing
Charlie's quieting draught. Sarah took a page from the Gertrude's
treatise on controlling and manipulating people, and set about to
observe carefully the novices in the kitchens whenever she had a
moment free.

Sarah paid special attention to Novice Bora, who seemed to be
finishing up the last stages of the quieting draught, adjusting the
dosages for each individual blood sinner, on those days when Charlie
was due for her dose. Novice Bora regularly went into the supply
chambers, like all the other novices in the kitchen, but she spent
more time in one specific chamber than the others. It took a week
before Sarah had the opportunity to investigate that chamber, and
discover that the packages of Salarian roots were disturbed.

Her discrete questions revealed that Salarian roots were highly
hallucinogenic, and were mostly used during the ceremonial rites of
the Covenant at the yearly equinoxes. And thus Sarah discovered Novice
Bora's secret, the same secret High Novice Gertrude used to blackmail
Novice Bora into helping her.

It took all of Sarah's courage to confront Novice Bora, and she was
buttressed by Charlie's words--help me. But whatever fight Novice Bora
might have put up never materialized, especially when Sarah gave her
her best disapproving scowl--learned at the feet of her own mother,
who had used it to great effect on her whole family--and Novice Bora
was soon begging Sarah not to tell of her addiction to the Sisters.

Sarah had no intention of doing so, and she reassured Bora that the
Sisters would not learn of the novice's penchant for escapist sin,
provided Bora helped Sarah. It was but a small request, Sarah
emphasized, whispering even more softly than usual. The quieting
draught for Charlie should be reduced in strength by half.

Novice Bora had almost bolted at that request, for Bora feared the
wrath of High Novice Gertrude--although she never verbalized exactly
what she was frightened of--and it took some coddling from Sarah for
Bora to finally acquiesce to the request, a stalked fearful look on
her face. Sarah had to promise everything would be okay, feeling not a
little bit like she was reassuring an infant that there were no wild
beasts underneath their cot.

The second part of the plan, making sure that the first time that the
half-strength quieting draught for Charlie was served, High Novice
Gertrude was not present, was easier to achieve. All the novices took
their noon meal together, and an opportune distraction allowed Sarah
to drop a pinch of crushed Carmelite seeds--lifted from the supply
chambers--in Gertrude's bowl. Not enough to kill her, certainly, but
enough to give her cramps that would ensure Gertrude would be gone for
the rest of the day. For it was the day that Charlie received her
quieting draught.

And so it was that Sarah was nearby when Charlie, having received her
half-strength quieting draught, stirred in her bed for the first time
in the ward since Sarah started her novitiate, and that Gertrude was
not. Sarah, after looking around to ensure no one was watching her,
sneaked past the sheet cutting Charlie off from the rest of the ward,
and stood by the bed of the dark-haired warrior.

Gently, Sarah ran her hand over Charlie's forehead, and the young
knight shivered slightly and moaned and turned her head. Sarah bent
down and lightly kissed Charlie's forehead. When she straightened up,
Charlie's eyes were open and were looking straight at her.

Charlie was coming out of her deep daze slowly, and Sarah shushed her
before she could make a sound. Charlie frowned and turned her head to
let the fogs of her unnatural sleep dissipate. Sarah saw Charlie's
eyes struggle to focus, shifting left and right and try to fixate on
something, anything, and Sarah, after some hesitation, leaned forward
so that her face was closest to Charlie.

It took a few minutes, during which Charlie's movement grew less
sluggish, and her eyes fixed on Sarah's face. She struggled to move
her lips and form words.

"Sssh," Sarah whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible. Unable
to resist any longer, she ran a gently hand over Charlie's cheek.

Charlie shivered at the touch, then sighed and closed her eyes.

"You're okay," Sarah whispered. "Everything's okay."

"Where...?" Charlie's voice was low and weak.

Sarah had never witnessed Charlie coming out of her draught-induced
torpor--Gertrude had always done it, alone, before the blood
gatherings.

"Please, keep your voice down. Do you... do you remember me?"

Charlie's eyes had grown clearer but still remained mostly
clouded. Sarah prayed that the dose was weak enough to manage to give
some sense to Charlie, but still have enough bite so that the knight
would not lose control and surrender to her blood fever.

"Help..." Charlie groaned.

"That's right. You asked me to help. My name is Sarah."

"Sarah..."

The way Charlie said her name made Sarah grow warm all over. Charlie's
eyes were on her. Sarah nodded, and broke into a smile that she could
no longer subdue. She longed to kiss those lips that struggled to form
words.

"What's your name?" Sarah asked.

There was a long pause as Charlie simply looked at Sarah. "Charlie,"
she whispered finally.

"Charlie." Sarah rolled the name over her tongue, feeling it, tasting
it. She had not known what to expect, but it fit well.

"Listen to me, Charlie," Sarah whispered as she leaned down closer to
the knight. "I have to go now, but I will be back tonight, after
everyone has gone to sleep. Until then, it is important that you not
make a sound, that you not move. Very important. To the rest of the
world, it has to look like you're sleeping deeply. Do you understand?"

"No sound... no movement... sleeping..."

"Exactly. Until I come back later tonight. No matter what happens. Can
you do that for me, Charlie?"

"Sleep..."

Sarah nodded and caressed Charlie's face again. Then, giving in to her
impulse, she leaned down and kissed Charlie on the lips, a soft
fleeting kiss that promised so much more.

Charlie shivered and responded to the kiss, and Sarah wished she could
have simply stayed there to forget the world and its Lord Charnias and
Gertrudes and Di Virolis and simply live for a soft loving pair of
lips.

Sarah sneaked back from behind the sheet after making sure her heart
had returned to beating at a more or less normal pace, and that she
had composed herself back to equanimity as befitted a novice of the
Covenant of Whispered Inspiration. As far as she could tell, no one
had noticed anything strange.

It took surprisingly little work for Sarah to arrange a schedule
change and ensure that she would be the novice in charge of the night
shift that same night.

To allay any possible suspicions--the night shift was hardly popular
and too much eagerness would have been unusual and anything unusual
would have found its way back to Gertrude--she showed further
craftiness. The sisters had often a need of novices on a volunteer
basis for various small tasks, and she volunteered for vegetable
harvest duty three days in the future, at a time where she had ward
duty. She then approached Novice Viola, and begged her to take her
morning ward duty that day. In exchange, offered Sarah, she would be
happy to shoulder Viola's ward duty that very night. Novice Viola, as
Sarah had known, accepted with barely contained glee, even if it meant
a double shift three days hence.

All that was left for Sarah to do was attend to her duties and try to
contain her nervousness as the afternoon and then the evening crawled
by slowly. She stayed away from Charlie's end of the ward, resisting
the temptation to go and see her. She prayed that Charlie had
understood her and would keep quiet.

Sarah should not have worried, for Charlie had not only heard her, but
once more of her lucidity had returned, she had recognized the wisdom
of the advice. After all, Charlie had enough wits to realize that she
had been kept deeply sedated, and that there must have been a reason
for it, and until she knew exactly what that reason was, she was not
willing to take any chances.

Charlie, left alone all afternoon but for a short period early in the
evening for her clothes and her bedding to get changed, tried to put
together her thoughts and her memories. She had no sense of how long
she had been here, most of her memories one of blissful floating and a
deep sense of peace like a long never-ending dream. Other memories
intruded, odd memories, memories that felt as though they belonged to
someone else, some Daemon that had sought residence within her breast.

Had Charlie been different, she might have believed and in fact
latched on to possession as a convenient and pleasant explanation for
these memories but she knew better. She remember crisply the time
before her flight from King Altobar's castle--the time when she was
under the thrall of Rochefort, who had first given her the magical
philtre that had subdued her mind and turned her into his private
pleasure girl, unable to resist the vilest of his orders, appallingly
submissive, shamelessly depraved.

She remembered how it felt to be a passenger in her own body, unable
to affect it, able merely to feel, to think, to fret uselessly.

When Rochefort was killed, his control over her vanished, but the Dark
Mage who had prepared the philtre in the first place--a philtre meant
for then Princess Helena before being stolen by Rochefort--had
revealed to Charlie that she would feel the bite of a magical blood
fever as a side effect from the philtre.

And thus, Charlie knew exactly what was happening to her, and for the
first time, thanks to the small dose of the quieting draught was able
to control her urges enough to think somewhat clearly and ponder her
fate and her future.

She did not know how the world had changed after the assassination of
the king, and what had become of her friends, and what had become of
her lover, Count Oliver of Athia. All she knew was the she had to be
careful.

Sarah slipped through the sheet less than an hour after the end of the
midnight prayers, which Charlie could hear as a gently drone in the
quiet darkness of the night.

"Charlie?" whispered the fair-haired novice. "Are you awake?"

"I am."

Sarah sat on the side of the bed, looking tired and excited and
embarrassed. "How are you feeling?" Almost reflexively, she put the
back of her hand on the knight's forehead.

"I feel fine. A bit groggy. Slow. Like I'm swimming in pea soup."

"That's the quieting draught. Your dose is not large enough to knock
you out, but it's still affecting you. How... how about
your... desires?" Sarah blushed, and wanted to kick herself for
appearing so nubile, and was grateful for the enveloping darkness of
the ward.

"They are manageable." Charlie had spent a good part of the day in a
fascinated watch of her own body, feeling the cravings clawing at her
loins, longing for satisfaction, for release. She felt everything but
as though it was a scream through a thick stone wall, a disconnection
between her body and her mind. But not a disconnection of the kind she
had experienced with Rochefort, not as a passenger in her own body,
but rather as a disconnection that enabled her to ignore the needs of
her own body, not unlike in her warrior's training where one learned
to ignore physical discomfort and pain and keep on fighting. On the
other hand, she had lost some amount of fine control over her body,
everything happening as though she was but half awake, still wrapped
with the fog of sleep.

Charlie looked at Sarah, her savior, and could now see her clearly. In
one quick look, she assessed and analyzed the fair-haired novice, the
way she had been trained, whether as a threat or ally. All that
Charlie saw in the youth was fear, expectation, and love. Love. That
took Charlie by surprise. Lust, she would have unexpected, as she was
keenly aware of the attraction that Sarah felt for her, and the desire
that gushed out of the novice to simply lean over and surrender
herself to Charlie.

For Charlie remembered. Not everything, of course. Her times under the
influence of the quieting draught were a black hole of memories, but
there were flashes where she was awake, aware of her actions, if
utterly unable to stop herself, the Daemon of lust within her breast a
wild beast seeking only to satiate itself.

She remembered a series of men taking her, or more often than not,
being taken by her, as she often overpowered them win her effort to
seek satisfaction for that craving between her legs, in a hot a deep
room hewn out of rock and equipped with a cot, a table, and a
torch. She remembered the man calling himself Di Viroli, a man of
noble birth and of perverse drives, who seemed unable to get enough of
her. The look in his eyes told her the tale that his words did
not--that he enjoyed her struggles, that he relished subduing her,
that he got off on hearing her beg for his cock to pound her into
oblivion, into blissful release.

And she remembered Sarah, though she did not know her name at the
time. Sweet Sarah. Innocent Sarah. Led like a sacrificial lamb to
slaughter by the older woman calling herself Gertrude, she who
directed access to Charlie's release. Scared but horny Sarah, who had
opened herself up, like a flower, and welcomed Charlie's crazed
assaults and milked them for all they were worth.

Sarah, whom in a moment of lucidity and control, in that short flash
of time after Gertrude had fed her the bitter draught that swallowed
up Charlie's memories, Charlie had beseeched silently for help,
reading in the young novice's eyes something that gave her hope.

She knew what that something was now.

Love.

"Thank you," whispered Charlie.

"What for?"

"For helping me. For being there. For being kind."

Charlie raised a hand and laid it on Sarah's knee. The novice
shivered.

"Don't mention it," she replied in a voice that caught in her
throat. "Anybody would have done the same."

"That's not true, and you know that even more than I do."

Sarah blushed, and looked down to the tapped earth floor, unable to
ignore Charlie's hand still on her knee, the warmth of the warrior
conveying through her robe to infuse her suddenly cold skin.

Charlie was not sure exactly what drove her to her next actions. It
may have been an understanding that it would cement Sarah as an
ally. It may have been that despite the quieting draught coursing
through her veins the Daemon inside her still affected her mind
despite only having a hold on her body. It may have been an
unconscious craving for warmth and affection. Whatever the cause, it
did not matter.

Charlie straightened up on the bed as Sarah watched quietly, waiting
to see what the knight would do, unwilling to let go of her hand. She
should not have feared, for Charlie leaned in and slowly brought her
face closer to the fair-haired novice's face.

Sarah's breath was short, her lips were parted, and her eyes were
half-closed. She was prey once again, and her heart beat so fast and
so hard she worried the other blood sinners on the ward would hear and
waken.

As much as the kisses they had shared when trapped in that room in the
caves far underneath the cloister when Charlie stank of stale semen
were wild and harsh and owed more to a warrior's training than to a
courtesan's education, the kiss they shared in the darkness of the
blood sinners' ward was slow and light and consumed Sarah more
thoroughly.

Charlie's lips were soft, barely caressing Sarah's own, teasing,
hovering, there but not, Charlie's breath almost more pressing than
her flesh, and Sarah, who had always been the passive vessel of
Charlie's overflowing lust, found herself seeking contact--her tongue
at first shyly and then more decisively sought out Charlie's, and her
hands caressed up and down the knight's thighs, which Charlie parted
encouragingly.

Sarah's breath grew even shorter as Charlie tilted her head and bared
her throat and Sarah, without thinking, trailed her lips down that
exposed skin and licked and kissed down the dip of Charlie's neck.

Sarah, who had never initiated a sexual encounter before that night,
who had only just come around to accepting the feelings she harbored
for the knight, was lost in a world of her own, following instincts
she never suspected she had.

Soon, without quite knowing how she found herself in such a position,
Sarah had her head between Charlie's exposed breasts, kissing and
sucking, her hands pressing the fleshy mounds while Charlie moaned in
pleasure and pulled Sarah's head against her chest.

Sarah had played with the dark-haired woman's breasts before in the
aftermath of the blood gatherings, but usually only managing to sneak
a hand or a tongue in between two assaults from the warrior while she
was in the full throes of her blood fever. This time, though, she had
unfettered access, and took full advantage of the opportunity,
exploring with her fingers, her lips, her tongue.

The reduced dose of quieting draught that Charlie had ingested did not
eliminate her blood fever, but merely lessened the impact of its
demands--her body still felt the pull and the cravings of release, and
with the stimulation of her breasts, Charlie's pussy responded in
kind, opening itself up and readying itself for lovemaking. The Daemon
lurking beneath her skin was ensconced in the folds of her pussy lips
and cradled deep in her ass, and laughed heartily at her feeble
attempts at resisting Him.

Charlie shivered all over, and Sarah, her chin damp with saliva,
interrupted herself and let go of the knight's breasts and looked at
Charlie, certain she had done something wrong. The expression on her
face was so forlorn and so caught between delight and fear, as if this
was all a dream that the fair-haired novice dreaded would dissipate at
a moment's notice, that Charlie had to smile, despite her predicament,
despite the abuse she had been subjected to, despite everything--Sarah
was even more of an innocent than Charlie was, caught in the midst of
a situation that she did not understand, but still willing to take
huge risks.

Sarah looked on curiously as Charlie continued to smile, even as
Charlie took Sarah's face in her hands and pulled her up. Sarah wanted
to ask something--she did not even know what exactly--but Charlie
never gave her a chance.

"You got me all wet, you little devil. I'm drenched through and
through."

Sarah's fear gave way to a smile, a shy smile, the smile of a kid
asking for her parent's approval, afraid to but unable to live without
it.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Charlie asked, looking deep
into Sarah's eyes.

To make sure the fair-haired novice did not misunderstand her meaning,
Charlie lay back on the bed, tossed the sheets off, and spread her
long legs wide. She ran her hands down her body and pulled her
underthings to the side, baring her wet and by now fragrant pussy.

"Lick me," she said softly to the hypnotized novice.

And as Sarah, with a growing smile, dove between the knight's legs,
Charlie gave up a shred of control and surrendered the smallest part
of herself to the Daemon, who writhed in delight under Sarah's
ministrations.

It was difficult, but Charlie managed to remain quiet as Sarah, shy
Sarah, nubile Sarah, discovered previously unknown abilities deep
within herself and guided Charlie through a number of orgasms that had
the knight's humping the novice's face and almost snapping her
invading fingers at the root so powerfully was her pussy clenching the
pleasure-inducing digits.

Bathed in sweat, her body satiated, the Daemon within her dulled by
the repeated highs, Charlie curled up on the bed into Sarah as the
novice lay down next to the warrior.

Sarah was breathing hard, and Charlie could feel her heartbeat against
her back. The fair-haired novice held Charlie tight, but did not say a
word, nor did she move. Charlie, meanwhile, basked in the warmth, the
closeness, the feeling of being her own self, of being Charlie the
woman, and not Charlie the warrior.

"Sarah," she asked softly. The blood sinners' ward was still quiet but
for the sound of the wind through the open windows. "Why are you
here?"

Sarah did not answer immediately. There were so many questions in that
own question. She was there because she had no choice. She was there
because it was her best hope. She was there because she owed it to
Fawn.

"I am here because it is the will of the One God."

And she believed that. Everything happened for a reason. Whether you
called it Fate, the River of Life, or the One God, or any other gods
from the pantheon of Deities that littered the Kingdom and others
beyond, it all came down to the same thing. Everything happened for a
reason. That was the only way any of it made sense.

"I am here because it is the will of the One God, just like you are
here because it is the will of the One God. He put you on my path." To
save me, Sarah added within herself.

Charlie bit her lip. Maybe my being here is the will of the One God,
she thought, but my blood fever is the will of Rochefort.

"I have to leave," Charlie said, matter of fact.

"Leave? You cannot leave--you are ill."

"The longer I remain here, the more dangerous things become, for me,
for everyone. I have to leave. As for my blood fever, if you get me
some of this potion that they give us, that should let me hang out
there for long enough to find a way to cure this."

Sarah shook her head. "Even if I were to give you some of the quieting
draught, the sisters would not let you go. No one leaves the
Covenant. You would be stopped at the gate."

"I can fight."

"But you are one, while they are many. And you are unarmed, while they
have weapons to spare. And you are weakened by your illness and the
draught. The sisters guarding the gate are trained warriors. You would
be slaughtered before you can touch the metal of the front gate." I
just found you, Sarah wanted to say. I don't want to lose you now that
I just found you.

Charlie said nothing. Her mind was running through plans,
possibilities of escape, running quickly into the problem of not
having enough information. She fought the rising frustration.

Sarah remained silent for a long time as well. Leave. No, escape. The
word kept bouncing around in her mind. She was terrified and
elated. Escape. Her aroused body felt alive, and that life wanted to
escape and be free. And Charlie was the root and the reason, the
source and the target. Everything happens for a reason, she thought.

"There may be a way," she said, softly, finally.

"A way?"

"To escape." Sarah fell silent. Charlie turned around to face the
novice. Before she could ask, Sarah took a deep breath. "But there is
one condition."

"Name it."

"Take me with you."

Charlie looked at Sarah, looked her deep in the eyes, and read all the
emotions repressed behind the watery blue eyes--fear, happiness,
helplessness, resolve. And lust. And love.

Charlie nodded. "Deal."

She did not linger to watch the look of relief and sheer gratitude
that crossed Sarah's face, because the warrior was shifting down
Sarah's body to repay the novice for the bliss she had given her
earlier. And within Charlie's breast, the Daemon wallowed in the
anticipation of more sexual release.


				 (5)


Three days after the night Sarah and Charlie shared together was to be
the next blood gathering organized by High Novice Gertrude, who had
returned from her bout of food poisoning in a foul suspicious
mood. Sarah gave her a wide berth, in her heart praying to her One God
that Charlie would manage to control herself and appear as though she
was fully under the quieting draught's effect. Sarah had told Charlie
that should the knight want it, she could arrange for a full dose of
the draught to be given to her, but Charlie had refused, repelled by
the thought of losing consciousness once more. With her current
dosage, she was able to control her urges, she had told Sarah,
although the way she had whispered it softly with a look of lust in
her eyes as she stared at Sarah's lips made Sarah's pussy get wet
instantly.

For three days and three nights Sarah kept away, unwilling to risk
losing the one chance she had of being with the woman with whom she
now realized she had fallen in love. High Novice Gertrude, in any
event, was watching the ward like a hawk, a permanent frown on her
face. Whether she sensed that something was not quite right or whether
she fought with internal demons of her own, Sarah could not ascertain,
but she worried nonetheless, and stayed away.

When the hour of the blood gathering was upon them, High Novice
Gertrude remained skittish, and looked around nervously. After
confirming that Sister Agnes was locked in her office, she started
rounding up the novices and having them dress the blood sinners that
would participate in the gathering. Sarah did not know how to
feel--she was worried that Gertrude might cancel the gathering, while
at the same time wishing she did so, because she feared what might
happen to Charlie that night.

But Gertrude did not cancel the blood gathering. Everything had been
arranged for weeks now, and since her business was conveyed by
word-of-mouth, canceling and antagonizing clients would not reflect
well on her reputation. Moreover Signore di Viroli was supposed to
come that night, and he was a most unpleasant person to displease.

And so it was that an hour after the midnight prayers, Gertrude came
to Charlie's bedside. The high novice had withheld the quieting
draught from the blood sinner earlier that day, as usual before blood
gatherings, and Charlie had already starting to shake due to her
rising blood fever. The Daemon within her was awakening and was
hungry.

Sarah watched from afar, not daring to approach because of Gertrude's
skittishness, congratulating herself for having managed to slip
Charlie a tiny dose of the quieting draught, enough that she would not
have to suffer the full effect of her blood fever. That had been
Charlie's suggestion. Sarah had wanted her to take more of the potion
so that she would be more aware, but Charlie had refused, shaking her
head and saying that she needed to be acting as close to possible to
the way she normally acted during blood gatherings, to allay
suspicions.

Charlie's fears, given Gertrude's attitude, were not unfounded. And so
Sarah followed Gertrude after the high novice had wrapped a robe
around Charlie and brought her down to the kitchens and then to the
passage that would lead them down the cave systems to the blood
gathering, Sarah helping some of the blood sinners that needed her
help to walk due to the effects of the quieting draught.

Everything was ready in the caves. Candles and torches had been put up
and pushed away the darkness. The gentlemen had arrived and were
chatting with novices, who as usual enjoyed a little bit of flirting
with the gent, happy to speak in their normal voice, and they greeted
the arrival of the blood sinners with hoots and a round of applause.

Sarah groaned silently as she saw Signore Pasquale di Viroli wink at
her before letting his eyes stray towards Charlie and smile a smile
that was nothing if not wolfish. Sarah's blood turned cold. He was
different. He always looked like a man that knew something you did
not. That night, he looked like a man that had won a battle you did
not even know had been waged.

Gertrude handed Charlie to a nearby novice, and Sarah noticed that
Charlie was shivering more noticeably now and moaning softly and
clutching her own breasts through her robe in such a fashion that
Sarah wondered whether or not the dose of the quieting draught she had
received had been sufficient to take the edge off her blood fever, but
could not tell either way.

Gertrude headed towards Signore di Viroli, and Sarah, having handed
the blood sinner she had been helping to another novice as well,
managed to hover near Gertrude so that she could listen in on the
conversation between il Signore and the high novice.

Signore di Viroli was in high spirit. "My dear Gertie," he said, his
accent thick, his voice theatrical. "So good to see you tonight. Have
you thought about my offer?"

"Your offer? Yes," Gertrude sighed, and shook her head. Di Viroli
offered to purchase Charlie every time he attended the
gatherings. "I'm afraid I cannot do it, Signore di Viroli. It is too
dangerous. It would raise too many questions were the lady to leave
with you and disappear."

He smiled a smile that contained no humor. "Five hundred thousand
pieces of gold is not a paltry sum, High Novice."

"Indeed. But it would do me little good were I to be put to the
Questions by the sisters, should they through some investigation
discover that I am doing this. I am sorry, Signore di Viroli, I truly
am. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement, so that you may have
some sort of exclusive access."

Sarah, who had been with nobility before, was reminded of Lord
Charnia, and suddenly she was afraid, afraid that Di Viroli would do
something drastic. He was not a man to be thwarted in his wishes, and
Gertrude was doing just that.

Sarah felt a stab of fear in her heart, a sense of doom, an intuition
that something was about to go wrong, and she wanted to run towards
the room into which Charlie had disappeared and take her away from all
of this. But she could not. And so she stayed put, worrying, as Di
Viroli gave Gertrude a tight smile and the high novice smiled
apologetically in response.

Di Viroli went to Charlie's door. Sarah watched helplessly as the
nobleman enter the room in which her Beloved lay writhing on the bed,
a ball of lust waiting only to be sated, and Sarah vowed that she
would intervene were Di Viroli to do anything untoward. Di Viroli,
Charnia, the rest of the men in this One-God forsaken realm, they were
the reasons for most of the evil in the world.

Meanwhile, Charlie could tell immediately that Di Viroli was angry
when he entered the room. Charlie had just enough quieting draught in
her body so that her blood fever did not completely overwhelm her, but
could feel the need, the desire, ready to erupt just underneath the
surface. She was sweating, alternatively hot and cold, and she
shivered as Di Viroli put his cloak on a hook by the door.

His mere presence affected her body. He was so big, so tall, so
strong. Her cunt got wet immediately, her breasts flushed, her nipples
hardened, her skin tingled; she feel an almost overwhelming desire to
crawl to him.

Charlie knew that were it not for the quieting draught coursing
through her veins, she would be doing just that, crawling to the man
only to kneel before him, to pleasure him, to harden him so that he
might plunge his shaft deep inside her and assuage that yearning deep
in her womb.

Di Viroli looked her up and down with lust in his eyes, spending an
inordinate amount of time on her breasts and on her groin as though he
was peering through her robe, as though he could see how ready she was
for him, how aching. He had seen her naked before, of course, had used
her body, had quenched his lust with it several times, and she had
responded to him as the most shameless of pleasure girls would to a
wealthy patron.

Charlie watched Signore Pasquale di Viroli unlatch his belt with the
long sword and slip it over a hook in the wall, and remove his tunic
and fold it upon the chair by the small table. Her hand, of its own
volition now that she was not concentrating, slipped underneath her
robe and started caressing one of her nipples with light fingers, and
she shivered as a wave of desire swept through her. A moan escaped
her.

Di Viroli smiled as he watched her, shedding his undertunic. He was a
powerfully built man, and he looked good, Charlie had to admit. Her
body ached for him. She knows that in order to get through the night,
in order to gather all of the information she needed to plan for an
escape during the next blood gathering, she needed Signore di Viroli
to think nothing was wrong, and in order to do that Charlie knew that
she needed to give in to the Daemon.

On the bed, her back against the cold stone wall, she let her hands
roam over her body, parting the robe over her chest and baring her
aching breasts, her nipples begging to be suckled, bitten, pinched. Di
Viroli's eyes stared straight at them, and Charlie moaned against her
best intent. She parted her robe further, baring her wet pussy, and
she wondered whether Di Viroli could smell her arousal from where he
was. She certainly could, and it drove her Daemon even wilder.

Di Viroli, naked but for a tight sash around his waist, stepped
towards Charlie. Her eyes were driven to his cock, large, erect, its
bulbous head looking threatening. She felt her mouth salivate, her
pussy gush. She wanted to spread her legs wide and invite it inside to
ravage her and plough her out. The desire was so strong it frightened
her. She had never experienced her blood fever while being able to
analyze it, and it was powerful. More powerful than she ever dreamed
it might be. If not for the quieting draught, she would be a puppet
for the man's every twisted desire, which she would perform with glee,
with abandon, with relish.

Di Viroli stepped up to her, and looked at her with his head leaning
over, a question in his eyes. "You're very controlled tonight, my
dear. It is impressive. Usually you attack me before I have a chance
to undress and walk up to the bed."

He reached a hand to caress her cheek, and Charlie resisted the urge
to suck his fingers into her mouth and show him what she would
willingly do to get him to take her.

As if reading her mind, his eyes looking deep into hers, he ran a
thick thumb over her wet lips. "Are you resisting? I believe you are!
Amazing!"

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and Charlie moaned as her hips
twitched, jealous of the attention her mouth was getting. She had to
give in. If she kept on acting differently than she usually did, Di
Viroli would become suspicious, and maybe say something to High Novice
Gertrude, who would investigate and maybe ruin her plans. She had to
give in. She had to become the slut that Di Viroli wanted her to
be. And it would be so easy--just letting go and letting her Daemon
take over.

She did. She released the Daemon, and sucked hard on Di Viroli's
thumb, taking it deep inside her mouth as she groaned and straightened
up and gyrated her hips and brought her crotch close to his other
hand, seeking contact. She sucked loudly, sloppily, trying to be as
enticing as she could be.

"There's something different about you tonight," Di Viroli said,
feeding her his fingers. "I like it. I like it a lot." He pushed his
fingers deeper into her mouth, staring at her lips the whole
time. "That's it, my dear. Surrender. Surrender to what you know you
want, you need, you crave..." His voice was soothing, and Charlie
shivered.

Almost without realizing it, she slid down to her knees in front of
the large man, his cock right before her, calling her, teasing her,
and her mouth opened and she could clearly imagine its hard flesh
pushing between her lips, its pungent taste as it slipped over her
tongue, its bulk as it pressed down the back of her throat. Her pussy
clenched with envy.

She was just about to slide her lips over his hard cock, just about to
engulf it and quench her thirst when Di Viroli grabbed her hair and
pulled her head back.

"Not so fast, my dear. I want to hear you beg."

He said nothing else, just stared at her, and Charlie internally
flushed with anger and embarrassment--how dare he force her to beg for
his cock? If only he knew who she was--but the blood fever raged
within her and she had surrendered to it.

"Please--" she heard her own voice plead with longing. "Please... give
me your cock, Sir... Take me... Fuck me... Rape me... Just give me
your cock... Please!"

Di Viroli grinned and pushed his hips forward, and his cock slipped
between Charlie's lips and her pussy drooled its juices down her
thighs as the thick shaft drove into her mouth and hit the back of her
throat.

She sucked, hard, a long groan deep in her throat, Di Viroli's hands
on her head keeping her from pulling her head back. She did want
to. She practically came as the thick shaft remained embedded in her
mouth, as she pressed her tongue against its underside, as she
swallowed over and over again so that her throat would massage the
hard shaft and make it come and spew its juices inside her, drowning
her in blissful oblivion. She wanted him to come, to come so hard she
would pass out herself.

When he pulled her head back, she took a deep breath, expecting him to
grab her head again and thrust his cock back into her mouth. She
wanted it. The blood fever was raging, and she craved for him to
possess her, however he wanted. His pleasure was her pleasure, his
release was her release. The part of her that was still Charlie was
both fascinated and aghast at her own behavior, at her own
justification for her actions. She was acting like a slut, and
enjoying it thoroughly.  There was no denying the spikes of pleasures
coursing through her body.

Di Viroli did not fuck her mouth again. Instead, he pressed her back
onto the bed. "Get on your back and grab your legs. Pull them up and
open, like you're offering yourself to me." He stood, his hands on his
hips, his cock twitching slightly in the penumbra of the room, her
spittle on his skin catching the flickering light of the torches.

She did as she knew he wanted, grasping her legs behind the knees and
pulled them up to her breasts, spreading her thighs, the picture of
the pleasure girl readying herself for a man about to possess her more
than that of the woman waiting for her lover.

He climbed onto the bed and between her legs, and Charlie could not
help shift her hips to try to get them closer to his cock, so that he
could slip inside her and fill her up. She wanted him. Needed him. She
moaned a low moan that Di Viroli understood perfectly.

"You want my cock, don't you, my dear? Your blood is hot, your cunt is
hungry, and you know that only my cock will satisfy you, don't you?"

Charlie, her eyes closed, nodded, and groaned, thrusting her hips
upward despite the awkwardness of her position. She had surrendered
any self-respect, had given herself over to her blood fever. If
anything, it would allow this ordeal, this extraordinarily pleasurable
ordeal, to finish earlier than otherwise.

"Beg me," he whispered, his breath hot on the side of her
face. Charlie turned her head to kiss the man towering over her, but
he pulled back and repeated his statement. "Beg me."

"Please..." she said, her voice dripping with desire. "Please fuck
me... fuck me hard... as hard as you want... I'm all yours... all
yours... I need you... need you inside me... Please..."

"Not bad," he said, slapping his cock against her pussy with a twist
of the hips. Charlie gasped and tried to push back against it but it
was gone again. "But you can do better. How about 'I am Charlotte of
Artagnia. Fuck me like the little slutty cunt I am.'"

Before she could do anything about it, Charlie opened her eyes and
looked at Di Viroli, and she could see that he saw the shock in her
face. He grinned, and with one shove pushed his cock all the way
inside her. Shock gave way to otherworldly pleasure for Charlie, whose
moan turned into a scream as the head of Di Viroli's cock made its way
into her depths.

And through the ripples of ecstasy that crisscrossed her body, Charlie
shivered. He knows.

As if he was reading her mind, Di Viroli spoke, his cock deep inside
her, not moving, simply enjoying the tight sheath squeezing
him. "That's right, my dear. I know who you are."

He pulled back and then slowly pressed into her again, making her
clench and moan and grab his shoulder. The sensations from her pussy
were too much--she could not concentrate on what Di Viroli was saying.

Di Viroli looked deep into her eyes as if he wanted to catch every
nuance of sentiment Charlie experienced. "I didn't believe it at
first. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. You look different
without your armor, without your uniform. But I can't deny the truth
any longer. You are Charlotte of Artagnia, knight of the Royal Guard,
the Old Guard, and you are a wanted woman. The Queen has set a price
on your head, you and your brethren. I knew you had escaped, had even
heard the rumors of your blood fever, but this I did not expect:
Charlotte of Artagnia, squirming like a pleasure girl all over my
cock."

To punctuate his statement, he pushed his cock hard into Charlie, who
gasped and pressed her legs on Di Viroli's sides. She wanted him to
take her harder, so much harder. "Fuck me," she pleaded, unable to
control herself.

Di Viroli closed his eyes, and savored the moment. He pulled back and
pushed into her again, and Charlie ran her nails down his back in
pleasure.

"We met before, did you know? At the court of Lord Anathia, a couple
of years ago. The King came to visit, and you were part of his
escort. The personal guard of King Altobar. Such a pretty little bitch
keeping the almighty King safe from harm. I fantasized about you,
Charlotte of Artagnia, from that point on. And now look at how Fate
put you on my path again."

He started fucking her faster, ploughing his cock into her harder and
harder, to the delight of Charlie who was in the thrall of her blood
fever, still conscious enough to realize what she was doing but unable
to control herself, forced to lie back and witness the ravaging of her
body.

"I wanted to buy you from that Gertrude cow even before I knew who you
were. You were just too good to pass up. But now that I know who you
are, there is no way I'm leaving without you tonight. That cow doesn't
want to sell you? Fuck her. I'll take you anyways. Who's gonna stop
me? Her? Ah!"

He shoved his cock into Charlie with one particularly hard thrust and
to Charlie dismay her body started shaking from the leading edge of a
climax that pulled a scream from her throat.

Di Viroli watched her while grasping one of her breasts in his hand
and squeezing hard, the pain adding to her pleasure and sending her
over the edge, and she came underneath the nobleman, her body
clenching and releasing and clenching over and over again while her
hands pulled him closer to her.

"I love how you come, my dear Charlotte. Do you mind if I call you
Charlotte? We're going to have a lot of fun together, you and I. My
very own Knight of the Royal Guard, Charlotte of Artagnia, slave to my
cock and to the pleasure it brings her. I'm going to keep you in my
bedroom, chained to the wall, your hands tied, so that you cannot get
any satisfaction and you find yourself going mad with lust. You will
beg me to fuck you, beg me to ravage you, beg me to do whatever I want
to you, and when I do, you will serve me like no girl can serve any
man, like a wild animal, like a beast, like a Lust Daemon. It will be
glorious."

His thrusts were getting more powerful as he spoke, aroused by the
images he was summoning in his mind's eye of Charlie sex-starved and
drooling, as the real Charlie beneath him kept riding the wave of her
orgasm, her body a blanket of nerve endings stimulated by the male
body pounding into her.

"I'll get you a little costume, too," continued Di Viroli, his eyes
boring into hers. "One of those masquerade balls knight costumes, cut
short and meant to arouse more than anything else. And I'll have you
call me King, and pledge your loyalty to me, and your obedience, and
your body and your mind. I shall be your master and your lord! Ah!"

With a lunge he buried himself so deep in Charlie's pussy and so hard
that he bruised himself, but he never noticed. Spurt after spurt of
his semen splashed inside Charlie, and the sensation threw the young
knight further into her climax, and she clutched Di Viroli's shoulder
and bit him to keep from screaming out loud. They crashed down onto
the bed together, breathing hard, intertwined, a single mass of limbs.

Coming down from her climax, Charlie could think again, now that her
body had been temporarily quenched. She could feel the Daemon linger
in the background, gathering energy, waiting for the right time to
surface once more and overwhelm and debase her.

Di Viroli was up on an elbow, looking at her, absent-mindedly pinching
one of her nipples. "I can see you are more yourself now,
Charlotte. Although I bet I can get you all hot again." He pinched
harder, and Charlie gasped, and her hips twitched on their own. The
Daemon roared; her pussy spasmed. She could feel Di Viroli's seed
leaking out of her, and the feel of the thick liquid on her skin
sparked her desire as well.

"Did you know I wanted to be a Royal Guard?" said Di Viroli, now
grasping her breast with his full hand. "Oh yes, it was a dream of
mine. But they rejected me. I pleaded my case, to no avail. I was a
great fighter, and I was willing to put the welfare of the King above
my own. But they did not think I was good enough. I met with this one
knight, Count Athia, who told me that they only accepted a small
number of applicants into the Royal Guard, and that I should not feel
slighted. But I did. THey thought I was not good enough."

Charlie stiffened--partly because of the name of her lover, partly
because Di Viroli had pushed two fingers in her pussy, thrusting them
in and out slowly.

"And yet they let you in as a Royal Guard, Charlotte. Over
me. Probably over others as well. And I wonder--did they let you in so
that they could pound this tight little pussy, Charlotte? Did you
agree to fuck them so that they would let you join? Did you become a
whore for them, Charlotte?"

He pressed the two fingers he had lubricated in her pussy between her
cheeks and against her ass. Charlie gasped at the sensations, fire
coursing through her veins, as Di Viroli invested her rear
opening. Her body thrived on the sensations, and she could feel the
Daemon aching for more, as if a large beast emerging from a deep
slumber and getting its first taste of meat.

"I'm going to fuck your ass next, Charlotte. Oh, I know, we've done
that before--I know how much you enjoy it--but this time, we'll both
know who it is that gets buggered. The great Charlotte of Artagnia,
knight of the Royal Guard, one of the finest blades in the Kingdom,
taking it up the ass like the lowliest pleasure girl."

Di Viroli was getting excited again, and his fingers went in and out
faster and harder, and Charlie's sphincter hugged them tight, to
Charlie's dismay. She felt Di Viroli's cock hard against her thigh,
and however much she wanted to resist it, she pressed her leg back
against it, and moaned lustily.

Di Viroli grinned. "I wonder what your fellow knights would say if
they could see you now, mewling from my fingers, craving a thick one
in your womb, begging for it?"

He leaned in close. He smiled malevolently. He clearly was enjoying
himself enormously. "No wonder they let you in. To have such a pretty
thing in their midst at their beck and call, ready to spread her legs
at a moment's notice. They're in hiding now, at least those that
haven't been caught, but I bet they'd come out if they heard that
Charlotte of Artagnia was not only alive but happy to service their
cocks again. That would put me in good standing with the Queen, too,
if I deliver them to her. And I could get my revenge on Count Athia,
too. "

Di Viroli's breath on her face and his fingers in her behind were not
enough to distract Charlie from what Di Viroli had told her. Some of
the knights had escaped the Queen's purge. They had not all been
captured and executed. And Oliver was among them.

The thought, the hope, the image of Oliver waiting for her, welcoming
her, gave Charlie's wavering will something concrete to hold on
to. Her body still ached to be filled and drowned, but her mind, for a
few precious seconds, was clearer than it had been for the entire
evening.

And a few seconds was all the time she needed. As Di Viroli gloated,
the knight thrust forward hard with her head and a loud crack
resounded as her forehead connected with the bridge of the nobleman's
nose.

Di Viroli jerked his head back and shouted in pain, blood exploding
out of his nose. Charlie balled up her body and reached down to grasp
the arm Di Viroli used to finger-fuck her; she twisted it and kicked
hard at the elbow, and heard a satisfying crack and another scream of
pain from Di Viroli, who flung himself off the bed clutching his
dangling arm.

Charlie swung off the bed herself, and almost lost her balance. Her
body was not responding quite as she hoped it would, and she felt
underneath the adrenaline pumping in her veins the rush of lust and
desire that pressed her to turn around and jump on Di Viroli and
impale herself on his cock. It would feel so nice, it would fill her
up so well. Charlie gritted her teeth, and took a step towards Di
Viroli's discarded scabbard.

But Di Viroli had shaken off his shock and his pain, and taking
advantage of Charlie's momentary lapse, slammed into her from
behind. They both crashed into the small table, smashing it to
smithereens. Di Viroli let out a roar of pain, but he had done what he
had intended to do, which was to knock Charlie out temporarily.

The young knight was shaking her head to clear the effect of the
impact of her head against the stone wall, and Di Viroli had a
comparatively easy time grabbing her by the hair and tossing her back
onto the bed. He was injured, his right arm dangling uselessly from
his broken elbow, but he was still larger than Charlie, and mad as
hell. And Charlie was stunned, and her body's needs took over.

Di Viroli growled as he used his weight to pin Charlie to the bed, and
he pulled out a dagger from a sheath in the broad sash he had kept
around his waist. "You bitch," he snarled. "You stupid stupid bitch."
He brought the dagger down and skewered Charlie's hand into the wooden
frame of the cot. Charlie's hand exploded in pain, and she screamed.

Di Viroli let go of the dagger and wrapped his large hand around
Charlie's throat. He pressed, squeezing hard enough to choke her but
not hard enough to permanently damage her.

Charlie's tried to grab the hand that was clamped around her throat
with her own free hand, but she was running out of strength. Her body,
meanwhile, interpreted her agonizing hand and her choking as sexual
play, and she felt her pussy gush with desire, savoring the pain, the
danger. Unbidden, her legs spread, and her hips started
humping. Charlie wanted to stop herself, but could not. She was
starting to lose consciousness, the whole world darkening.

"Look at you," said Di Viroli. "All hot and bothered like a hungry
slut. Charlotte of Artagnia, spreading her legs and begging to be
fucked. You like this, don't you? Hey? You like this?" He laughed. He
squeezed his hand on her throat. "I told you I'd fuck your ass. Had
you been nice, I'd have let you suck it and get it nice and wet. But
it's gonna go in dry now. We'll see how well you like that!"

He lined up his cock, already hard and rearing to go, between
Charlie's legs, never letting go of her throat. "Get ready, you
little--"

He never finished his sentence. A loud crack resounded in the room as
a table leg swung from behind him connected with the back of his head
and sent him sprawling onto the bed and onto Charlie.

Sarah clutched the table leg in her trembling hands, her body
responding to the adrenaline that had been pumping into her ever since
she rushed into the room upon hearing the crashing noises and the
screams to find Di Viroli choking her lover and abusing her. She did
not remember picking up the table leg, let alone swinging it at the
nobleman.

Di Viroli groaned in pain and clutched the back of his head, a thick
coating of blood pouring through his fingers and staining his pale
hair.

Sarah stood, holding on to the leg of the small table, trembling,
fearful, unsure of her next step as her eyes jumped from the prostrate
form of Charlie who was grabbing her throat trying to catch her breath
with long drawn intakes of air, one hand still pinned to the cot
frame, to the crouching form of Di Viroli, who was growling incoherent
words under his breath.

Sarah did not know whether to go and help Charlie, or whether to hit
Di Viroli again and knock him out. That she had hit him with all of
her strength and still he remained conscious frightened her more than
she would have cared to admit. Her body shook uncontrollably.

She trembled further and clutched the table leg until her knuckles
turned white when Di Viroli took the decision out of her hands by
straightening up and turning towards her. He looked at his hands, red
with his own blood, then up at Sarah, and his eyes were full of anger.

"You stupid bitch," he snarled, and he showed teeth.

Sarah's eyes went wide, but she strengthened her hold on the table
leg, and when Di Viroli took a step towards her she swung at his
chest.

She did not have the element of surprise this time, and Di Viroli
without difficulty deflected the blow which had little strength behind
it. He backhanded Sarah with a blow of his own behind which he put
much of his weight, sending the young woman sprawling to the ground,
stunned.

"You may be cute as all hell," he said, his words calm although it was
clear he was fuming, "but you have a lot to learn about minding your
own business. I am happy to provide your first lesson."

At that moment, High Novice Gertrude and another younger novice rushed
into the room, having heard the noises and having seen Sarah enter
just moments earlier. They both stopped in their tracks, and Gertrude
quickly took in the scene--Charlie on the bed with one hand pinned by
a dagger to the cot and the other around her throat trying to regain
control of her breathing and her body, Di Viroli standing looking mad
with blood on his hands and on his neck and the side of his face, and
Sarah on the ground curled up into a ball and sobbing. Gertrude's
mouth opened and closed, as the novice next to her gasped and grew
pale.

Di Viroli looked up. "Ah, High Novice Gertrude. Glad you are here. It
seems your minion here took it upon herself to play white knight in a
useless display of irony. I was about to teach her a lesson in
respecting her betters. I trust you will serve as a witness to this
demonstration."

He returned to Charlie on the cot, and pulled his dagger out of her
hand, forcing a hoarse scream of pain from the knight.

"Signore di Viroli," said Gertrude, her voice breaking. "I'm of course
extremely disappointed any of this happened. I'm sure we can come to
an arrangement that puts this unfortunate event behind us."

Di Viroli, his demeanor calm and in control once more, smiled
unpleasantly. "Oh, of that I'm sure, High Novice Gertrude." He
emphasized Gertrude's title as if to mock it. "And first on the list
will be Charlotte here, that you will let me carry away."

"Charlotte?"

Di Viroli's smile this time was amused. "You really don't know, do
you? You really are as dumb as you look," he said, turning his
attention back to Sarah.

He crouched next to the fair-haired novice, and after planting his
dagger into the ground next to her, grasped the young woman's long
blonde hair and pulled her onto her back, unfazed by the scream of
pain she let out.

Di Viroli never even bothered to glance at Gertrude and the other
novice to ensure they did not do anything. He knew women enough to
know they were cowed and would remain so.

He straddled Sarah, who was now crying, and ineffectually tried to
pummel his chest with her fist. He slapped her hard, once, twice, and
all fight left the young woman.

"And now for your lesson, my pretty one." He reached for his dagger
once more and pressed it against Sarah's robe over her stomach,
hooking a small fold of the material and slicing through it. Sarah's
eyes grew wide when she felt the cold blade kiss her skin without
breaking it.

Di Viroli smiled, and thrust the dagger upwards, ripping through the
robe all the way to its collar, cutting through both the material of
the robe and that of the tight band all novices wrapped around their
breasts.

As the now useless garment parted, Sarah's chest was exposed to Di
Viroli's gaze. He looked admiringly as Sarah's large breasts were
revealed.

"Now would you look at those," Di Viroli said, shaking his head. "You
were planning on keeping those two beauties all to yourself, weren't
you? That's mighty selfish of you." He planted his dagger into the
ground by Sarah before grasping a handful of the soft and sensitive
flesh, and squeezing hard. Sarah yelped.

"You must have been very popular with the boys in your little village
with these. I was thinking of just punishing you and leaving you here,
but I may have to revise that plan. Maybe I should punish you and then
take you with me and Charlotte. The poor girl will need some company
after all..."

Sarah was too terrified to truly comprehend what Di Viroli was saying,
his good hand on her breast bruising her.

"First, though," Di Viroli continued, unaware, or perhaps simply
uncaring, of Sarah's terror, "you must be punished for your lack of
respect. For respect for one's betters is the bedrock of civilization,
without which we would be no better than those Barbarians from the
Eastern Lands. No, for our society to function, everyone must
understand their place, and disciplined when they stray."

He pulled the dagger out of the ground. "And your punishment, young
novice, is to accept this offering into your womanhood," he said, his
eyes dark, his grin lopsided, with no humor in it but cruelty. He
leaned down, his mouth a breath's away from Sarah's face, and his
voice lowered. "I will fuck you with this dagger, you little bitch,
and I will ruin you. I hope you enjoyed your previous fucks, because
from now on, if you survive, whenever a man shoves his hardness into
you it will hurt like nothing else. It will be fun to hear you bargain
for men to use your other holes when they fuck you."

He grinned, and Sarah's blood ran cold, and her body stiffened in
fear. As the mind is wont to do in moments of incredible stress, hers
latched on to the most incongruous detail imaginable, and she wondered
how such a cruel and insane man could have such sweet breath--mint, or
something of that ilk. She wanted to scream, but her throat was not
responding. She wanted to crawl away, but her limbs were
paralyzed. She closed her eyes, and tried to find whatever solace she
could in prayer.

Di Viroli straightened, and used the tip of his dagger to cut through
Sarah's dress and her undergarments, baring her sex.

He looked at it for a moment, and made a mock sad face. "A shame to
destroy something so beautiful." He ran the tip of the dagger lightly
over the lips of Sarah's pussy, who found herself whimpering. "Ready?"
he asked her.

Would he have thrust the dagger into her in one sharp flick of the
wrist, or would he have pushed it in slowly, twisting it along the
way?

Sarah would never know, for as Di Viroli savored the look of terror on
her face, his body seized. Sarah heard a sickening crunch and saw the
tip of a sword emerge upwards from Di Viroli's throat, and a shower of
blood poured over her. Horrible gargling sounds came from Di Viroli,
who reached up for the blade coming out of his throat only to cut his
own fingers on the sharpened steel.

Charlie waited until the last spasm from Di Viroli's body died down
before sharply twisting the sword upwards and half-severing the
nobleman's head from his neck. Di Viroli's body folded and Sarah, who
could no longer contain the scream that was threatening to erupt from
her chest, shuffled from underneath his massive body, panic all over
her face.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hand
throbbed, but she ignored it. Her body, aroused from Di Viroli's
treatment, craved satisfaction, but she ignored it. The sight of blood
and brain matter leaking out of the remains of Di Viroli's head did
not bother her in the least, but she had not expected the rush of
sexual desire that stabbing the nobleman brought her. She idly
wondered if she was getting an inkling of what it might be like to be
a man.

She felt herself ready to submit to her craving, the rush of the
attack threatening to overwhelm once more the little of the quieting
draught that was still coursing through her system. The sight of
lovely Sarah, her robe torn apart, her bare breasts beckoning, her
pussy open and accessible, all served to drive Charlie wilder. The
look of fear in Sarah's eyes did not assuage those feelings--if
anything, it egged Charlie on, who felt within her the Daemon longing
to take his pleasure from the fair-haired young woman by
force. Charlie's hand clenched on the hilt of the sword.

A whimper shook her out of her daze. She looked up sharply while at
the same time lambasting herself for getting so easily distracted in
the midst of combat. That was a beginner's mistake, the kind that
ensured you got killed in battle. A mistake that she, Charlotte of
Artagnia, proud knight of the Royal Guard, did not make. She curse the
philtre that had turned her into what she was, cursed Rochefort who
had given it to her, cursed the Dark Mage, cursed Sarah's One God.

The whimper had come from the tall young novice that had come into the
room with High Novice Gertrude. Charlie stared at the tall novice who
looked like she was about to be sick but still could not tear her gaze
away from Di Viroli's bloody corpse.

Charlie shifted her gaze towards Gertrude, who was staring straight
back at her. Even through the storm of lust assaulting her, Charlie
could assess the situation. Gertrude was scared, but felt she had to
act for her own survival. What she would do Charlie did not know, but
she suspected she would bolt and seek help, for Gertrude would not
seek confrontation. What form would that help take Charlie did not
know, but she had no plan to wait and find out.

In one smooth motion, she crouched and picked up the dagger that Di
Viroli had dropped when he threw up her sword, and threw it at
Gertrude.

She had no hope of scoring a hit, of course--one did not throw a
dagger and have any hope of it hitting the target blade on, let alone
kill someone. Knifes simply did not work that way, as any warrior
knew. But few people could withhold reacting when a knife was thrown
in their direction, and Gertrude was not one of those people. With a
shout, she ducked, losing her balance.

In the time it took for the knife to clang against the wall behind
Gertrude, Charlie had closed the distance separating her from the two
novices, and had driven the sword into the high novice's chest before
Gertrude could recover.

The look of disbelief and pain on the high novice's face brought a
thrill of satisfaction and once again lusty pleasure to Charlie. She
savored it for a second, relishing the buzz in her nipples all the way
down to her pussy, before turning aside and running the sword through
the tall novice that had remained motionless next to Gertrude.

Charlie breathed in and breathed out, calming her trembling body,
before wiping the sword on Gertrude's robe and going to rouse poor
Sarah who looked on horrified and clearly still in shock.

"Sarah! Get up. We have to go."

Sarah looked up at Charlie, uncomprehendingly.

Charlie picked up and slipped into Di Viroli's tunic, and tightened
his belt and scabbard about her waist. She wrapped herself in his
cloak. It was too large, but it would do. She bandaged her wounded
hand as best she could with a cloth.

"Sarah! Let's go!"

"Now?"

"Yes. Now. We probably don't have much time."

"Now?"

Charlie bit back a harsh response. She knew she would not fare well
alone, not with her blood fever. As much as she hated to admit it,
Sarah had been right, and Charlie needed her. Charlie crouched by the
pale young woman.

"Sarah. Look at me. You want us to be together, yes? Then come with
me. Now. This is our chance. We can be free. Together."

"Together?" Sarah looked at Charlie, her eyes wide, her pupils
dilated.

"Yes. Together. You and me. But we have to go now, Sarah. Right now."

Sarah seemed to wake up at that, and stood, unsteadily. She wrapped
the tatters of her robe about her and followed Charlie out of the
room.

Outside, gentlemen and novices gave them strange looks, unsure what to
do and how to interpret the noises they had heard coming from the
room. Sarah picked up her bag and her cloak hanging on a hook, then
she and Charlie ran down the cave, away from the passage that led back
to the kitchens, towards the entrance where the men that Gertrude
invited to her blood gathering came into the cave system. No one
followed them.

The drop in temperature announced they were nearing the outside world,
and they emerged under a moonless night sky.

Charlie had not idea what to expect upon exiting, and would not have
been surprised to find a group of soldiers or a camp for the footmen
of the patrons of Gertrude's gathering.

As it were, there was no one save a single horseman waiting by two
horses. As Charlie jumped him and dispatched him before he even had
time to draw his sword, she noted the design of the man's clothes and
deduced he must have been Di Viroli's footman waiting for his master
to return. Charlie thought it fitting that Di Viroli's horses would
help them escape.

She felt the pull of the man lying dead on the ground, and a strong
desire for male flesh washed over her, making her swoon in place. Her
pussy screamed for attention, and her knees buckled.

Sarah was there to hold her up, and Charlie surprised her by grabbed
her head and kissing her hard, driving her tongue into the fair-haired
young woman with an intensity that submerged Sarah, who melted into
the kiss with all of her soul.

"Can you ride?" Charlie asked when she had recovered.

"Not well."

Charlie nodded. "You'll learn. For now, ride behind me, we need to put
as much distance as possible between us and this place."

Charlie climbed on Di Viroli's horse, knowing that he would be able to
carry the two women. She helped Sarah climb behind her, and took the
reins of the other horse in her wounded hand, ignoring the pain, and
soon they were galloping away.

Charlie was keenly aware of Sarah's arms wrapped around her chest, her
heat on her back, her breath near her ear. Charlie's pussy gushed, her
mouth watered, her mind spun. She wanted nothing more than lay the
girl down and take her, over and over again.

"Are you okay?" asked Sarah.

"The potion... I think it's fading... This is going to be bad."

"I have some quieting draught with me. In my bag. I snatched some. It
will help, while it lasts."

Charlie silently thanked her, and drove the horse harder. That was one
problem solved, at least for a little while.

They rode on, and Charlie cast her mind back to what Di Viroli had
told her earlier, about the surviving knights of the Royal Guard being
hunted down. Was Oliver, her lover, the man she loved, among them? Was
he still alive? If he was, he could be found. Thinking of him sent
another shiver of lust coursing through her body.

Where are you, Oliver? she thought. I need you!