Grimora's Dark God

Her tower held the sorceress Millicent high above the earth, suspended in thin air as if caught between the distant ground and a sun that seemed almost equally distant. And yet, Millicent did not feel far from power. In this hinterland of atmosphere, divorced from the tangibility of the solid ground and the equally concrete void, she was all the more conscious of the power of magic.

One in particular: a new acquisition. An amulet sourced from a dark god. How it resembled a serpent’s eye, this dangling pendant. Immense power resided within it, as if the vertical slit were an opening to a dimension of pure force.

The amulet had become hers after performing a service at the behest of the people of Pearlstrom. They’d been menaced by the Cult of Val’Gor… vagrants with nothing to live for but darkness, the indulgences of murder, debauchery, sexual torment, and occult rituals of the most grossly heretical nature.

Millicent had rid Pearlstrom of that human plague, with the assistance of Emelyn and Galsha. Millicent thought of her companions now. For some reason, they were very easy to picture, as if the amulet made the thought of them reality. In its presence, Millicent found herself recalling not only their looks, but their scent, how they sounded, how they moved… facets of them that only improved their allure.

Emelyn was beautiful in a forbidding way: eyes the color of the sky, fine features, a bow-shaped mouth, and a widow’s peak to her blonde hair that made her face heart-shaped. The human was a Paladin, and quite mindful of her duties to the Church of the One. Resolute in opposing any who would soil the Lightbringer’s creation. She was kind, yes, as kind as she was strong, but it was hard to imagine someone so resoundingly noble giving into any temptation. No matter how Millicent might wish it… to cup those rose-tipped breasts, to feel those long legs wrapped about her…

Then there was Galsha. The orc was a barbarian, of course. Strong and stubborn. Clashing greatly with Emelyn’s more high-minded ideals, but two women could not be so adept at combat without respecting each other. Just by looking at them, you could tell they wouldn’t get alone. In contrast to Emelyn’s china-fine features, Galsha looked riotous in her beauty. Bee-stung lips, coffee-and-cream eyes, and that raucous cloud of black hair like a storm—she looked like she’d just stepped out of some smutty painting, while Emelyn could’ve adorned a stained glass window.

Millicent could very easily see herself with Galsha; the woman was not shy with her propositions. But it would feel… too easy, perhaps. Like a job halfway done. Emelyn would no doubt write her off if she coupled with Galsha, and Millicent’s desire for her was as strong as it was for the Orc. Perhaps she could have Emelyn, as improbable as it seemed. But despite the achievement that would be, it too would feel unfinished, Millicent could just tell.

If she bedded both of them, perhaps…

That was ridiculous, though. Plainly foolish. And yet it held an appeal that neither woman alone could conjure in Millicent. An appeal that whispered of more than being mere passing fancy.

Millicent looked at the amulet. That ophidian slit seemed to be eying her as fervently as it was seen. In fact, Millicent felt far more seen than she ever had been before, despite the shadows about her being darker than ever—enough to hide her from the view of most. Yes, the candles seemed to be guttering, if lit at all. But in the darkness, ideas came to Millicent that could not reach her in the light.

She was not a bad-looking woman, Millicent knew. Half-elf, with fine white hair. Petite, but with high cheekbones and intense blue eyes. Despite her short stature, she easily had the grace of both the races she had descended from. Perhaps a little quieter than was usual for either species. More willing to delight in her own company, especially in this peaceful tower that gave her such privacy.

Privacy that now seemed as incomplete as the thought of bedding only one of her lovely companions. No, this isolation was best-suited for the devilries that could occur with but the three of them. She imagined Galsha and Emelyn venting all their frustration with each other in a means as rageful as combat, but without all the unpleasant destruction that entailed—except maybe to their clothes.

And Millicent the only one to see… to suggest what new merriments they could occupy themselves with, as easily as she suggested a course of action when they were traversing a dungeon or facing a troll.

And then they would thank her: with their hands, their mouths, their tongues. They couldn’t thank her enough… and when they didn’t, she would punish them.

How both of them would delight in seeing the other punished.

Not that this would make it any easier for them to await their own discipline.

Millicent could no longer dismiss her own logic. If she waited but a week to seduce them, she would no doubt be the one they trussed up and subjected to torture, delicious though it might be. So she needs must garner their lust as quickly as possible, so that all three of them could agree that she was the mistress and they the subjects of any pain that was to be merited out.