The Initiation of Gaelle Salbris-Goulaine

The Harem of Maelys Part 1

Content Warning: #erotica #smut #weird #monsters #demons #religion #abuse #violence

Characters: #Gaelle #Maelys

Lightning as red and painful as her first night cracked repeatedly, relentlessly across the sky, briefly illuminating the sea of demons beyond the castle bailey. Carried as she was, under Lord Goulaine's arm, like little more than a sack of refuse, Gaelle could see blessed little of the chaos that reigned outside the walls, but she could hear the cries of the soldiers as they did battle with the fiends in the pouring rain.

They may breach the walls yet, she thought to herself, with a shudder. Despite her choice, she held no hope that she'd survive the night if the evil took the castle.

Lord Goulaine shifted her weight under his arm and spared a disgusted glance down at her, his lips twisting.

I must look quite a sight, with my wedding dress covered in blood and soaked in rain and mud.

He spat on her, heaving her up the stairs to the lower doors to the castle keep. Following behind him, the priest, Krunckel, continued his prayers, holding the book she'd found the summoning ritual in with a tattered piece of leather so as not to touch it with the skin of his hands. His prissy face was also twisted, but more by his revulsion at the tome than her state. In fact, he scarcely even noticed her, same as ever.

Goulaine flung the heavy iron-bound door to the dungeon open with one hand and cast her down the stairs. Tumbling, it felt like she hit every step on the way down.

Then he said the only word he'd spoken to her the entire day, the day of their wedding. "Worthless." He let the priest past as he turned away, hitching up the huge demon-slaying crossbow he'd been carrying in his off hand. His eyes sliding off of her like a beaten dog. "I'll deal with her later, Krunckel. I must go destroy that bright fiend that leads the hordes."

"I'm told the creature is called 'Paz,' my lord. May the white gods protect you."

As Krunckel wrestled her slender but limp body into the manacles, she wondered about what would happen to her family. Her father, who had sold her to Goulaine for a concubine, was fighting somewhere beyond the walls. Her sisters were out there too, probably dead, their home overrun by the demon hordes.

Krunckel left her to her thoughts.

Regaining some of her faculties, she looked down at her body to assess the damage. The front of her dress was torn from when the lord had ripped it to see the mark she'd drawn on her belly for the summoning ritual. The rest of her wedding costume was ripped and scraped from her tumble down the stairs. One shoe was missing, as was the opposite glove, and her hair had fallen from its elaborate coiffe.

What else could I have done? she wondered in despair. Intense guilt wracked her mind. There's no doubt the spell summoned the horde to the castle. It's all my fault.

She looked again at the blood mark she'd made on her belly. The book had said that it was a plea for the old gods, a desperate cry for salvation.

I should never have opened the book. I should never have asked the Dark One for help. I was a fool. And now I'll die for my mistake--

At that moment, interrupting her thought, a figure appeared out of the dark with a crack of red lightning, right there, only feet away from her in the dungeon.

"It's a shame you feel that way," the figure purred. Her voice was rich, dark, and powerful. It held a timbre to it that made her throat go dry and her heart flutter in terror.

Gaelle Salbris-Goulaine looked up at the dark figure in mute shock, trembling in primal fear.

"...Because I can still leave you here, if you choose. I force this on no one," the figure continued.

Still, Gaelle couldn't make words. The figure was creeping closer, sauntering forward with limitless confidence. She was a resplendent darkness, a demoness of the first order. Her wine-colored body was enshrouded in cosmic shadow: three pairs of leathery, feathered wings curled around her and long jet hair glimmered around her face. She seemed to have four arms and her feet were like the talons of an eagle. Behind her, a great bundle of slender shapes writhed like a tail.

"Dark One," Gaelle finally managed.

"Yes, that is what some call me, Gaelle Salbris-Goulaine. The pleasure is mine," she said, stepping even closer and slowly kneeling before the spot where Gaelle was chained to the floor. Instinctively, she pulled away, pressing herself against the wall as the Dark One's intertwined horns loomed over her face.

"You poor thing. I see. I see what they've done to you. But my love comes at a price. You read the ritual, the contract in the book, did you not?"

'Y-yes, I-I read it," she stammered. The Dark One reached out a taloned hand to turn her Gaelle's face to meet her own.

"If you wish it, I will take my army and leave. But as a show of good faith, I will free you."

The Dark One reached past Gaelle's face and ran her fingers over the thick iron manacles, severing them like a knife through butter. Another of her four arms reached down to do the same to the chains that bound her feet. Then, she cast the merest glance over her shoulder. There as a sharp snap and a flicker of darkness, then the door to the dungeon was nothing but a perfectly cylindrical hole in the upper wall.

"You may call me by my name, Gaelle. I am Maelys, the ruler of Celtica, the land your people have invaded. Do you understand the contract?"

Gaelle blushed. The depictions had been graphic and detailed. In exchange for salvation, the Dark One demanded sacrifice of the flesh and of the soul: it was a deal for her soul, a pact sealed with sex.

She nodded.

"And do you wish me to leave?"

Bruised and battered and cold, Gaelle's mind reeled. She'd thought she was prepared to sacrifice everything, but looking at Maelys, she knew that she hadn't barely even comprehended the truth of the matter. Again, she thought herself a fool.

But. She also knew that it was too late. Lord Goulaine would never let her out of the dungeon again, if he even kept her alive. And Priest Krunckel would sooner have her executed for even touching the book than permit their marriage to continue.

A small vindictive flame sparked to life in her once again, a memory from the many days of abuse.

Slowly, she looked down at the blood mark, touching it with trembling fingers.

"I devote myself to you, Maelys. And if I may say, fuck my people."

The Dark One sighed in what seemed to be relief. "I'm glad." She gathered Gaelle up into her arms and took her into a different part of the cellar, where there was barely any light and the dungeon was out of sight. Gently setting her down, Maelys tended her wounds, healing them each with gentle touches, kisses, and licks. They burned in her wake, her remade skin fresh and warm.

As her pain left, a gentle wash of comfort and caresses replaced it. Maelys's hot breath burned against her wet skin, and she found herself reaching out for her, cautiously letting her fingers run over the demon's own burgundy skin. As Maelys began to explore the edges of her torn dress with her tongue, Gaelle shifted to try to free herself of the garment, which interfered with the Dark One's ministrations.

"Let's not waste time," she purred, easily lifting Gaelle up and turning her around with one pair of arms while the other pair stalked up the backs of her legs, pushing her skirts out of the way. Gaelle's breath hitched and her heart leapt. Waste no time indeed, she thought, biting her lip.

"I heard that," Maelys whispered in her ear, nibbling on it slightly. "Through the mark. I can hear your thoughts."

Gaelle pressed closer, her cheek sliding against one of Maelys's surprisingly warm and smooth horns. That's good, because I could never speak the words aloud.

"And what words are those?"

Take me, Dark One, please.

Maelys's hands roved over her body, kneading her breasts through her tight bridal bodice. She'd hated that the Lord picked the garment, but she reveled in Maelys's enjoyment of it, casting aside thoughts of all else as her hands began to work at her hips. Moments later, her undergarments fell away, as though by magic. Or, more likely, having been severed the way her other chains had been.

Maelys's touch was surprisingly gentle as she began to caress Gaelle's mound. She sank towards the touch, but Maelys maintained her distance. Slowly, she stroked her, with each slow movement drawing a whimper and renewed moistness. Her claws, it seemed, had gone, in favor of long fingers, slender but powerful.

They sank into her with unhurried languor, the first such touch that Gaelle had ever actually enjoyed. Maelys stroked her thighs and breasts and neck, purring into her ear and planting kisses on her cheek until she turned her head to accept them.

The kisses... More... I want more... of everything... she thought, her mind awhirl with delirious half thoughts and sensations she once had thought were perverse.

Maelys withdrew her fingers from inside, wet them with her tongue, and returned them to their rightful place inside Gaelle's lips.

"Hnnnnm," Gaelle moaned, biting her lip to keep quiet. Deep in her psyche, she was still afraid of others finding out, but those barriers were slipping.

The pulsating, smooth, powerful rhythm of Maelys's fingers drove repeated squeaks from her, then gasps. She pushed her right to the brink, then released her, letting her back down in shuddering wetness.

"Why... why did you stop," she pleaded.

"I must give you some of my fluids, for the contract to be complete," Maelys said, licking her long fingers with a long tongue. Just merely watching that action made Gaelle almost faint with lewd imaginings.

"Fluids?"

"How much of the book did you read?"

Gaelle's eyes, lidded and dazed, struggled to look the Dark One up and down. Then she remembered: the tails. The book said she used them on women. She gulped in hesitation.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle. Here," Maelys purred. Her tail--tails, really--loomed around her side, ducking under her stretched black wings, presenting themselves to Gaelle. "Go on, touch them."

Hesitantly, she reached a trembling hand out towards the flower of writhing black. They were fleshy, but slender, each one slippery and flexible, and utterly unlike anything she'd touched before. Warm and sticky, they pushed pliantly into her hand into between her fingers like questing tongues.

These would go inside of me? she wondered, moving her hand to cup and stroke one. Maelys drew a breath, her eyes partly closed.

"One will," she whispered. "But for now, more of that."

It struck her then just how human Maelys was despite her contrary appearance. A gentle touch and she was as pleased as anyone else would be. A thought crossed Gaelle's mind. The other concubines of Lord Goulaine had spoken of men's predilection for fellatio, and these tails of Maelys's seemed fairly similar.

A guttural moan boiled in Maelys's chest as Gaelle brought one of her tails to her lips. Still somewhat unsure, she tasted it first. Wet, juicy, and vaguely floral, just like her kisses. There was a perverse, sultry twist to it that made her blush even then.

"Alright, perhaps two then..." Maelys admitted, pushing her tail towards Gaelle's lips. She provided a bit of resistance, as the other concubines had taught her, then let the tentacle tail push into her mouth. The floral flavor intensified as she took it deeper. Maelys groaned again and began moving her tail as Gaelle stroked it. More of her tails split from the bundle and made their way under her skirts, helped along by Maelys's many hands.

Gaelle tried to prepare herself, but it was impossible. Maelys knew what she wanted. Her many tails slid over Gaelle's mound and lips and ass and inner thighs and belly, exploring, licking, probing, and tasting her. The adventurous ones lapped gently at her slit, tasting her wetness and mixing it with their own. Even so, she let out a girlish cry as one pushed deliciously between her lips. Gaelle's mouth already occupied, Maelys kissed her neck and cheek instead, carnal passion pouring from her ferocious embrace.

"I can't wait until you're ready for more than this," she hissed. "Ah--" she gasped, her tentacles penetrating Gaelle so deeply she lost all sense of reality. Unmoored, she was swallowed by Maelys's seduction.

Until the bolt thudded into her chest.

At first, there was only shock. Her eyes peeled open blearily to see a thick shaft of wood sprouting from her breast, just by the heart, its blue and white fletching quivering as her blood seeped out onto the floor.

Then was pain. Rather than a stabbing, it was an unexpectedly slow burn. She felt faint, weak, short of breath, probably owing to a punctured lung.

All this time, she'd been falling.

Where is Maelys? Was she ever here? Did I dream all of that down here in the dungeon?

But no. Maelys was across the room, having moved impossibly fast, and had Lord Conrad Goulaine's thick, stocky neck firmly in one clawed hand. She lifted his titan-like bulk fully off his feet with a brief snarl, summoning a ball of searing red light into one hand before thinking better of it. She cast a glance back at Gaelle, who could barely see, then quenched the death-fire in an angry fist.

"Foul demon," the burly, plated man choked.

"Watch your tongue, or I'll remove it like your arm."

Goulaine looked down, but both arms were attached. He had just enough time to smirk at her and lift his demon-slaying crossbow before she flicked her black claws through both the arm and the weapon, leaving both little more than several slices of flesh and wood.

Abject horror rocked the man's features as he screamed, but Maelys did not let him go. Not yet.

"I won't kill you, swine. No. I think that one day, Gaelle will want to return you the favors you've done for her. So I will let you live." She let his feet touch the ground, but didn't allow him to remain standing. Instead, she kept pushing, down and down, until he was forced to sit on the stone floor.

A quick glance back at Gaelle proved that she had little time. She wanted to torture him, to rend him limb from limb, but she could not.

"Putting you back together would take too much time. Instead..."

She reached her claws down to his face, cutting out one of his eyes. Regarding her work, she carved a curse, a capital G onto his forehead, as a reminder of what was coming for him. Then, what little work she had time for complete, she simply cast him away, through a wall of stone and into the dungeon beyond, the sound of his crunching metal armor echoing in the darkness.

An instant later, she was by Gaelle's side again.

"You're still awake, that's good," Maelys cooed, lifting her up into her arms. "You're made of tougher stuff than you look."

"Dying," Gaelle rasped. "Please..."

"Oh, my sweet love, you won't die." She shifted her weight and leaned over Gaelle, her hand on the crossbow bolt. It sizzled against her skin harmlessly.

"This will hurt, though."

Before Gaelle had time to react, Maelys had plucked the bolt free of her chest. A moment later, she craned her head down, kissing the wound and licking the blood. Gaelle was able to take a breath before the Dark One met her eyes.

"Normally, you're supposed to accept other fluids of mine, but this will have to do," she said, leaning in to kiss Gaelle.

The floral taste seeped into her mouth again and in the next heartbeat she felt her entire being spasm as though she'd been hit by lightning.

"In my name, Maelys, The Black Morrigan of Celtica, Known to the Ancients as Isfet, I grant you life eternal, and with it the Black Name Astarte. Welcome, Gaelle, to my harem."

Raw, unbridled power coursed through Gaelle's veins. She felt better, stronger, more holy than she ever had before. She knew not how to respond, so simply closed her eyes and bowed her head in reverence at the Dark One's power.

Maelys cradled her like a child as she stood to her full height. A wave of her clawed hands and the stone ceiling fled away. A step on the air, and they were flying on her six dark wings. A gesture, and the golden creature far below, leading the fiendish melee against the castle turned said army away to leave.

"Don't worry," Maelys said. "We're going home now."