Pale Master

(Continued from Tristan)

Ariana lay on her back on a slab of smooth, black rock that served as her altar and stared at the distant, shimmering cavern walls. Beside her lay a razor sharp ritual knife, its thin blade reflecting the preternatural light of the dim cavern. Mist shrouded and massive spectral stalactites hung ominously from the faraway ceiling and spoke silent volumes of the ancient age of the place.

Littering the floor all around were the remnants of corpses, skeletons -- whole and scattered -- and memories long dissipated as the last foul uses of the bodies had given way to decay and neglect. The tombs that once housed the stolen carcasses now lay empty save for spiders and other night creatures who might call them home.

The morose and beautiful elven mage reflected on the countless years she had wandered the land searching for the answers to death itself. How to become like to a lich itself without giving up the warmth of life. To hold even a fraction of the mastery of death a lich possessed was a quest Ariana had long pursued and she had attained a great amount of power thus far. Various forays into necromancy had taught her much and she had felt the changes to her body, her skin becoming cool to the touch with a cadaverous hue.

Of course, her brother, Morlon, didn't approve of her appetite for the dead. His shortsightedness would have her cower before his insipid desire to intrude upon what lay between her legs. She had far greater aims than being the humping post of her brother, although the distraction of teasing his whims was not entirely unwelcome. As her flesh grew colder, she hungered more for the warmth of living flesh. Taking it between her legs from her fool brother was less troublesome than kidnapping peasants from the surface and fucking or eating them, though it was far less entertaining.

She felt the hunger for sex wane as the corpse at the side of the altar, its magically erect cock never tiring, continued to thrust haphazardly. The squishy noises and its inhuman grunts echoed in the cavern and began to sound ridiculous. What am I doing here, she thought? Being fucked by this half-decayed thing with gaping wounds and a fleshless, nearly severed arm seemed instantly strange to her.

She sat up and laid a hand on the thrusting corpse's chest, murmuring a word through pale lips. The thing fell to the ground and lay still, bereft of all animation. The pale, thin elf flexed her muscles as if to urinate and a stream of the sterile lubricant she favored for these activities gushed out of her vagina, sliding down the side of the altar, adding to the remains of numerous other coatings from similar activities.

She lay back on her alter and put a hand between her legs, caressing the familiar folds of her smooth, hairless lips. She found that spot between them that made her quiver and massaged it, thoughts of arcane power flowing through her mind. She used a minor sonic vibration spell on the altar and it began to hum and vibrate, small rocks in the vicinity rattling off their ages old resting spots. She pressed against a smooth rock that protruded from the base of the altar and rocked her hips up and down, each movement of her pelvis bringing a fresh wave of orgasmic energy to her aching libido.

Thoughts of death and dismemberment haunted her as she worked her sex toward a dizzying climax. More and more, she wanted, more power, more power, closeness to death, eternal life! Harder she ground her aching and wet meat into the softly vibrating stone, her orgasm laying just out of reach. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. The muscles in her arms and legs ached from the exertion of fucking the thing that taunted her toward conclusion.

A vivid light in her mind washed over her at that moment and a spectral image of what she must do to achieve her next stage in mastery over death appeared before her. Her swollen vulva ached for completion with a hitherto unknown vengeance so in a wild lust for power, she frantically grabbed the knife next to her and plunged it into the socket joining her arm with her shoulder in accordance with what she was shown in her vision.

White hot pain stabbed through her body as a pool of red grew under her. She stopped rubbing her organ on the stone and just held it there, cherishing the pleasure of the pressure even as her arm protested in pain as she cut away the flesh, severing tendons and cartilaginous material. Impassioned by sexual energy, she felt each tendon pop and the pressure on her arm give way. When the last tendon released its tenuous hold on her dangling humerus, she severed the last of her outer flesh, her leaking life fluids spreading on the alter.

Grimacing with intense pain, she removed the cadaverous arm that had fallen off of the formerly animated corpse near the altar. She held it up in place of the arm she had just severed from her body and recited the spell that had presented itself to her in her vision. Light grew around the separated ends of shoulder and arm. The horrible pain abated and she felt a strange sensation of power surge through her. She arched her hips in ecstasy, the vibrating stone sensating along its entire length.

She flexed the fingers of her new hand and felt the tingling of arcane power in them. She reached down to the vibrating sex column and grabbed it, pulling her vulva closer to it, pressing it tighter until the stone unbelievably broke off in her hand. Her amplified strength was manifold, coursing through her new arm and racing through her body. She shoved the smooth stone column inside her wet, aching sex and used it nefariously until she reached the long awaited, long denied, and mind bending climax that left her slumped on the floor on her side in fetal position, the delicate curves of her ass and thighs bisected by a thick,black stone pillar still clenched between skeletal fingers.

She dreamed of death, lust, and power.

(Next: Laerelia)