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The new Chosen One, never standing still, as if constantly dancing, dressed in intricate armor that clung to her graceful body like a second skin, appealed to Z'rell more than the previous one—a sullen bulky lizard. So when Lady Orin summoned her to her chambers, the half-orc was only too happy to obey. With long strides, as quickly as possible, yet still trying to appear dignified and befitting her high status among the cultists, she headed for the coveted room.
Throwing open the door, Z'rell froze in place, unable to believe the sight before her. Lying completely naked on a bed in the middle of the dark room was another True Soul—drow Minthara. Her limbs were bound with thick ropes to the bedposts, forcing her body into an X-shape. Her skin glistened with sweat and fresh blood flowing from numerous wounds. Minthara's chest heaved, and her glassy eyes stared blankly at the high ceiling. Z'rell slammed the door behind her hastily and blinked a couple of times, unable to believe that what she saw before her was reality and not a dream—the scene looked as if it had come straight from her nocturnal fantasies.
"Do you like what you see, True Soul?" came a mocking voice from the depths of the room. A slender, pale woman, clad in red armor that made her body look freshly flayed, emerged from the darkness.
The half-orc closed her mouth, which she hadn't even noticed had opened, and bowed respectfully.
"Yes, Lady Orin. How could anyone not like such a sight?"
"I knew it~" The Chosen One laughed approvingly and, coming closer, poked the tip of her curved dagger under Z'rell's chin, forcing her to look into her odd milky-white eyes. "My dear wife has become too ungrateful and disobedient lately. She has become too accustomed to my care, she takes it for granted." The woman began to circle the room, waving the dagger, her long braid swinging from side to side in a hypnotic rhythm. "Perhaps she even believes that someone else would be a more worthy partner for her, huh?" She cast an angry glance at Minthara, but the drow did not react in any way—it looked as if her thoughts were somewhere else. "Show my wife what you would do to her in my place. Show her how much better off she is with me." Lady Orin ran back to Z'rell and almost buried her face in hers. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes, I understand perfectly." A wide smile spread across the half-orc's face.
Truly, the Absolute was the most generous goddess, constantly bestowing lavish gifts upon Z'rell. The half-orc couldn't have dreamed that this fantasy would ever come true. Oh, Z'rell had thought many times how she'd love to fuck this insolent drow. She possessed the beautiful, strong body of a warrior and such a hot voice that always sent shivers down Z'rell's spine and made her instantly wet. But what a vile bitch Minthara was! She always looked down on Z'rell, as if she were some kind of scum she could barely tolerate, even though both women were of the same rank. But to the drow, some half-orc was beneath her in status, despite the edicts of their Goddess. And now it turned out she didn't even respect one of the Absolute's Chosen. Unthinkable! She absolutely had to be punished.
Approaching the bed, Z'rell pulled off her heavy overcoat and boots, but didn't bother undressing. Settling herself between Minthara's wide-spread legs, she eyed her critically. It would take a lot for Z'rell to surpass what Lady Orin had done to her. But she always loved a challenge.
The half-orc experimentally directed her gift of the Absolute into Minthara's brain. Usually, the haughty drow carefully guarded her mind from intrusion, but now her defenses had fallen, and Z'rell was able to penetrate it without difficulty. Chaos reigned deep within Minthara's brain; thoughts and memories resembled fragments of a shattered mirror, jumbled in disarray and reflecting each other in an endless, feverish agony. Frowning, Z'rell began to sort through one memory after another until she found what she was looking for. Different people had been broken by different things. If the half-orc was right in her assumptions, then for the arrogant paladin the most painful thing would be the loss of the image of an impeccable warrior that she had so carefully built. And Z'rell could happily arrange that.
She spat on her fingers and unceremoniously slid two at once into the tight opening between Minthara's legs. The woman responded with a barely audible moan. While Z'rell's fingers fucked the drow's slit, her mind began to work on the woman's memories, distorting and bending them to the half-orc's desires. Her mother's disappointment, a public mistake during training, a clumsy first kiss, and oh so many sweet moments spent in Lady Orin's arms—all memories that were suitable for Z'rell's purposes were mercilessly dissected and gutted. She discarded unnecessary details, purging the drow's thoughts to pure emotions—shame, dishonor, self-hatred. The half-orc's fingers moistened with her cunt's juices just as the corners of Minthara's eyes moistened with welling tears. Z'rell coerced her body into pleasure as skillfully as she tortured Minthara's mind. Z'rell pushed a third finger inside, causing a new stream of choked groans to escape the drow's mouth. The bound woman tried unsuccessfully to pull away. The half-orc placed her thumb on her clit and began to massage it roughly. Minthara let out a pitiful sob and tightened around her fingers.
Oh, she looked so odd, yet so beautiful in this semi-conscious state, so pathetic, nothing more than a piece of meat. The thought made Z'rell purr contentedly.
Lady Orin finally stopped pacing the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching with curiosity what was happening.
"So, do you prefer being with Z'rell?" the Chosen One whispered, leaning toward Minthara and gently stroking her sweaty cheek. Receiving no answer, she jumped to her feet with a laugh and began twirling around the room again.
"Let me violate you," she sang in her ringing voice, waving her arms to the rhythm of the music playing in her head, "Let me desecrate you~"
Meanwhile, thanks to Z'rell's incessant rummaging in her head, which didn't allow her mind to calm down for a second, Minthara began to cry fully.
"I want to fuck you like an animal~"
The fourth finger of Z'rell's massive hand penetrated the drow and squeezed in the hot grip of tight insides. Minthara's face twisted in pain, causing heat to flare between the half-orc's legs.
"I want to feel you from the inside!" Lady Orin exclaimed somewhere in the back of the room.
Z'rell removed her thumb from Minthara's clit and, after a couple of thrusts, pulled her wet fingers from her cunt. The drow exhaled in relief, her body relaxing as much as it could while stretched between the ropes. The half-orc smirked. She even briefly stopped replaying the humiliating memories in Minthara's mind, allowing her victim to truly let her guard down. Then, curling her hand into a cone shape—pressing her fingers together and her thumb into her palm--she pushed it into the woman's hole with one sharp movement. The first thrust only got her fingers in up to the knuckles, but with a little effort, her hand began to push deeper. The drow's eyes bulged, her mouth hanging open in a cry. Z'rell contentedly stroked her thigh, which trembled with tension.
The half-orc stopped rummaging through Minthara's head. Instead, she slapped her cheek with her free hand, finally bringing the drow back to reality.
"You have an absence of faith," Z'rell whispered in her ear, matching the rhythm of the Chosen One's murmurs as she twirled ceaselessly in her ecstatic dance around the bed. "I'll get you closer to God."
Minthara glanced at her in surprise, as if she'd just noticed her. Smiling back, Z'rell covered her dry bitten lips with a rough kiss and pushed her hand inside the drow up to her wrist. She greedily drank in all the moans that escaped the drow.
"I want to feel you from the inside! From the inside!" Lady Orin giggled, while Z'rell fucked Minthara's aforementioned insides with her hand.
The drow clenched so sweetly around her hand, her entire body trembling as the half-orc was slowly rotating her wrist, stretching the pliant flesh. Z'rell thrust her tongue into Minthara's mouth in time with the movement of her fist in the drow's hole, licking away her moans. Her tusks tore at the skin, mixing saliva with the sharp taste of blood, causing the half-orc to purr blissfully. Her own cunt had soiled all her smallclothes, and Z'rell desperately wanted to slip her hand down her pants and relieve the tension. But she, unlike the arrogant drow, revered her goddess with all her heart and would never have treated the orders of her Chosen with such disrespect. Z'rell put the desires and orders of the Chosen above her own, and Lady Orin had ordered her to teach Minthara a lesson, not to fuck for pleasure. So instead of sliding her free hand down her pants, she raised it to Minthara's throat, gripping it tightly and causing her pained moans to turn into strangled wheezes. Z'rell finally pulled away from her bloodied lips and allowed herself a moment to savor the results of her labor—the drow looked deliciously ruined. Even more in pain than when Z'rell had entered the room. But it wasn't enough.
She again connected their brains with psychic force, this time sending her own arousal into Minthara's tortured mind, causing their senses to mingle. Z'rell felt the muscles around her hand relax, allowing it to glide back and forth with greater ease, penetrating even deeper. She felt her fingertips brush against soft flesh at the end of the tunnel, the walls around them contracting from the touch, and Minthara's eyes rolled back, making them resemble Lady Orin's.
"Do you like it when I fuck you like an animal?" snarler Z'rell, thrusting her hand into the deepest of Minthara's cunt again and again, making the drow tremble with each hit. "Because you're an animal. A fucking animal. If I were on Lady Orin's place, I would never promote you to anything higher. Just an animal to fuck."
At these words, Minthara's face, darkened by lack of circulation, twisted into a grimace, her insides squeezing Z'rell's hand painfully, drenching her with her cunt's juices. The half-orc licked her lips contentedly.
"Your entire existence is flawed," she cooed, continuing to fuck the drow's hole, still quivering from the forced orgasm. "So much talk about your superiority, but look at you now." She laughed, and Lady Orin echoed her.
"You let me violate you." Push. "You let me desecrate you." Hit. "You let me penetrate you." Thrust. The body beneath her began to go limp, so Z'rell removed her hand from Minthara's throat. "I broke apart your insides—" Another push, and the drow's body arched, reaching its peak once more. "And look how you like it!" Minthara clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, beginning to cry again. The drow's overworked muscles no longer had the strength to resist, and Z'rell began to pound into the woman's hypersensitive insides with twofold vigor.
"Orin…" Minthara barely managed to squeeze out through stifled sobs. The Chosen One immediately approached her little toy.
"Yes, my dear wife?" Lady Orin murmured in a honeyed voice.
"You're right! You're right! I—" Minthara's words were cut off by another orgasm. "Please, stop— Enough!"
Lady Orin placed her graceful hand on Z'rell's shoulder and she obediently stopped her movement.
"Thank you, Disciple Z'rell," she murmured into the orc's ear and kissed her cheek. Z'rell's face flushed. "You have done your job well. You may go."
Z'rell slowly withdrew her hand from Minthara's ravaged cunt. Partly out of caution, so as not to further damage her insides, but mostly out of reluctance to part with such enticing, tight warmth. She gazed longingly at the stretched opening, from which the juices of involuntary pleasure flowed so abundantly, and forced herself to rise from the bed. Her own cunt burned with desire, and her underwear stuck disgustingly to her thighs as she moved. But that wasn't a big problem. Z'rell would easily find someone to satisfy herself with. There was plenty of obliging meat in Moonrise Towers.