Thousand Year sword: Part 7 aftermath: Life is a Dream

    Again those dreams disturb her; those strange unworldly dreams of things she cannot understand, bombarding her mind in random imagery. Riding a metal box with soft chairs inside it through a forest the likes of which she has only seen in paintings of the west, standing inside a giant metal barge of some kind floating through the sea of stars, back in the metal box and watching an eclipse with a moon that barely covers the center of the sun and saying in a voice not her own, “the sign of the end, as the moon of darkness attacks the sun,” then ending seeing a battle amongst dark clouds between a giant goddess in ebony black carapace armor battling some giant serpent like creature that was part of yet separate from the cloud its self, to end only with the goddess whose name, face, and very imagery is not to found on the temple walls looking at her and saying, “remember,” just as she stabs a massive spear into the throat of the serpent and it hisses something and red light envelops the scene.

 

    She awakens, the magic energy bond chain on her throat tightening to awaken her as her duty begins. She is a slave, a slave in a massive desert kingdom, she does not toil in the construction works, nor does she toil in fields, her jobs are to work in the palace, and be degraded. The morning routine, for the fourth day of the week; she gets her lithe figure, kept fit and attractive by her daily required routines and forced diet as the personal plaything of the king and his queen. Of all such servants; of which there are many she is the king and queen’s favorite “toy”. She places upon her shaved head a short red wig, something few slaves are permitted to have, and she has six. She favors the red, it reminds her of her hair before she became a slave; when she was very young in a small village among the trees to the north of this kingdom. She was still so young and can barely remember her parents’ faces, taken by slave traders who took her while she was picking mushrooms to surprise her parents that she was a big girl.

 

   On the fourth day of the week the king and queen are to shower, an amazing apparatus built by the Holy Priesthood, a device that spews water forth from the wall via a metal plate making it fall like rain in a confined tile room with a drain that sends the water to barrels which are sold to the peasants, water that has touched the royal skin, thought to bring health as the royalty is said to be descended from divinity. She enters the shower, and stands against the wall to the left of the plate and knobs for controlling the temperature, a recent addition. The magic bond around her throat connects to the wall and tightens forcing her chin up. Next to her are soaps and cleansing cloths, she is just another cleaning apparatus in the shower as far as anyone is concerned. The water comes on, freezing cold at first making her pink nipples harden despite the rest of her body complaining as best it could be goose bumps and shivering. Before long the water heats up, too hot, but she can’t move, then to the right temperature; when it’s there she says, “water good.”

 

    It is then that the king, a man with long flowing blond hair, and a figure that might as well be chiseled from marble. Beside him is his first wife, the queen, a woman with short black hair and dark tanned skin as the king demands, making him glow in appearance next to her. They enter the shower, the king says, “wearing that wig again in the shower?”

 

   He doesn’t really care, only acknowledging her presence to add to the excitement if it can even be called that after so many years of this; however it is new that she has been in the shower, only by a few months, but bathing the two of them in regular baths has been her duty for years. This however is different, she is held to the wall barely able to look at them, her hands only free when they say to clean them; they embrace each other, tongues entwined as she looks on. Very different from when they were in two separate baths and she would clean their bodies; before they both took advantage of her; yes separate baths in separate rooms on separate days, her duty was to clean, and both called her their favorite and upon being cleaned would invite her to “dry them off” with her warm body on the drying beds. It was still degrading, to be used as a sex toy and then made to clean up their messes. These last few months have been different, she has not touched them but to clean them, they make out, and once even tried sex in this showed apparatus, making her watch. It is clear neither wants the other to know they have had relations with a slave, however making her watch them gets them excited apparently.

 

   Just as the king is getting into it, hiking up the queen’s leg and groping her breasts like a monkey trying to crush melons, preparing to enter her in this standing position, a guard can be heard in the room outside the curtain who announces an urgent matter has come up. The king’s first action is to clamp his hand on her mouth, and give her a look that screams threatening. She knows a slave in this holy water could cause a ruckus among the people.

 

   “I’ll be right there,” shouts the king as the guard leaves, “continue your shower my queen,” he says oddly looking at both women as he leaves.

 

    The queen rubs her sore breast and plays with herself, rubbing her clit a little. She shrugs, “bathe me,”

she says as she presses the tile that frees the slave’s arms. The slave girl takes the soap and rag and as best she can while being held by the throat by the magic bond to the wall rubs the queen’s back in a circular motion. As the queen bends over, she comes only slightly closer in this large shower, giving the slave just enough distance to rub the soap along her butt cheek and on her shoulder, teasing her, the queen’s face displaying both want and amusement.

 

   Something changes, something familiar, like a feeling in a dream, those dreams in which she takes advantage of the king and can’t control her body, but that is not all, the magic bond on her throat is gone, and her strength is like that of a man. Her arms enclose the queen, fingers teasing the tit with a back and forth rub between her index finger and thumb through the cleaning cloth, while her other hand washes the inside of her buttocks, goes down and her pinky finger makes a daring strafe through her most intimate of openings. Before the queen can realize her reach is further than it should be she scoops up the queen, surprising her and places her against the wall, legs around the slave girl as though she were a man about to “stand and deliver”. Without another word she licks the side of the queen’s right tit, her tongue soothing the soreness from the king’s groping, something she knows about herself all too well; before taking the tit between her teeth and biting down oh so gently. A loud *gasp* and *moan* escapes the queen, the slave girl releases the tit as the warm water bounces against them and encases her mouth with her own, their tongues swirling together like serpentine lovers.

 

    Between breaths the slave girl’s free right hand, supporting the queen mostly on her legs, hips, and against the wall, explore her body. Rubbing her tit for a moment, before caressing her flat stomach in a washing motion, her hand moves down and she plays with the queen’s clit, petting it with her index finger in a teasingly slow motion. This a great tease as moments before the slave girl’s gyrating hips had brought queen almost to orgasm with her clit against clit rubbing; before parting her netherlips. The queen gives her a questioning look through her pleasure soaked gaze, before a loud “ooooh!” escapes her. In this instant the slave girl whispered, “Phallic bond”. Invisible as it is, the same magic that had formed a bond around her throat is now coiled up and penetrating the queen. An impossible sensation as she is penetrated at the same time their clits rub together, is though the phallus were coming from within her own vagina as well. It is clear the sensation is shared as the queen can see the slave girl’s nether lips are parted as well and moving as though she were being penetrated. The mental image in the queen’s mind is that they both somehow have magic penises and are fucking each other while enjoying each other as two women. The “ohs” and “ahs”, as the slave girl pounds into the queen in the shower, their juices flowing, both about to cum, both at the start of their orgasms is interrupted by the shower curtain being thrown back violently. The King, a guard, and a Holy Priest, stand there. In that moment the queen didn’t notice, her mind lost to lust; the slave girl gives the audience a sly smile and a little wink before she finishes off the queen, her orgasmic scream so loud no one had needed to spy on them.

 

    The queen collapses in the slave girl’s arms, the sensation between their legs, the invisible force vanishes leaving only a feeling of emptiness. The slave girl’s mind snaps back, a moment before she had been rubbing the queen’s back, now she is struggling to support the dead weight of a sleeping, spent, queen against the tile wall. Slowly she tries to lower her, about down she slips with the queen on top of her.

 

   “Still they continue,” says the Holy Priest, “insulting your dignity as a man, the forbidden magic I spoke you of my king, evidence right before us. The girl is possessed by a witch, look at her confused expression as the demon loosens its hold for the time being. Look at how it violated your queen. We will need to perform the right to insure the demon did not lay its demonic seed in your queen, or else her next born child will need to be sacrificed as a spawn of evil.”

 

   “Of course,” says the king, “take my wife away for the ritual, she is in no shape to resist, as for the slave, put some clothes on her, I will personally escort her to witch dungeon.”

 

    ******

 

   She wants to say something, but her whole life, more here than her fuzzy childhood memories, she has been trained to speak only when allowed to speak, act only when told to. She can feel the magic bond around her throat again…the feeling of “again” being the odd part.

 

   As they walk down the stone steps into the strangely organic looking cave, green and rippled and warm and humid, the king speaks, “I knew…I knew you were possessed by a witch. Those nights when the queen was away, no doubt sleeping with whomever she wished, those nights when allowed you to fall asleep in my arms so cute and helpless, you would change after I had spent you into sleep, you were like an animal, riding me like you were the one fucking me…”

 

   His mind goes to what he saw in the shower and blushes and shakes his head as his mind tries to sneak in a (what might have been), “you barely spoke, your eyes far away, when you did once, you demanded I call you queen. A fond memory, you were on top of me riding me like you wanting your pussy to rip my dick off, I called you my loyal slave, and you stopped and clasped your hand on my throat and hissed like a demon that you are no slave, you are the queen.”

 

   They approach a beach of sorts, one set of short steps and then an underground river, he pushes the slave girl over the edge onto the beach, a wall of energy around the beach and over the entrance the river is coming from and going to flashes and then vanishes.

 

   “A magic barrier,” he says, “to keep anyone alive inside unless a Holy Priest lets you out. It will pitch dark at night, and glow in the daytime. After your…crime…in the shower…crimes, you are charged by the Holy Priesthood…I can do nothing about it, for violating the holy waters, witchcraft, and conspiring to take over the kingdom through a devil spawn. If only you hadn’t...was I not good enough for that witch inside you? If she had come to me I would have made her a queen, given you…her, children that could contest to rule someday. But she threw it away, did she not know for the sanctity of the holy water that the priests have placed charms in the shower…I knew…so it’s my fault for the temptation, like a trap. Don’t worry; you will be kept safe here. I will visit you; I have the charms to pass through the barrier, but only for myself. From this day forward I will be the only person you see.”

 

   As the king leaves and darkness fills the cave he can be heard to whisper, “just as I planned, scheming women.”

 

   The slave girl doesn’t know what to say, or think, or have any idea what they are talking about. She goes to sleep. That night she has the strangest dream of all. The carapace goddess once again fighting the monster made of clouds, the red mist, but this time it continues, the carapace goddess bursts into flames, explodes, and a metal egg flies from its body. As the monster is pinned down by the spear, its own body fading away it shoots a bolt of oddly colored green lightning at the egg which crashes into the forests. She sees a time lapse, vines, trees, rocks and dirt, all forming over the egg until a farmer whose face is a blur finds it while clearing away the area for a field, strange letters appear before her face, now looking up through a window on the egg at the man somehow she knows the meaning of the letters “ERROR”. The man leaves, shortly after the egg opens like a door and the little red headed girl gets out, her cloths like a white sheet on her, made of some slippery material she isn’t familiar with, the little girl stumbles from the egg and wanders about in a daze, everything fuzzy, no idea who she is or why she is here. She comes across a small creek with a bridge, the farmer is there with his wife. The farmer says something but she can’t understand it, but clearly he wants to get away from her, the wife however looks to chide the man and goes over and scoops the girl up.

 

   The image flashes forward through a daze of monotony, the girl is a little older now, by about two more years perhaps, the man is saying something and images of mushrooms pass in her mind and the mushrooms making the farmer’s wife happy. It was the next morning that she was taken by slave traders while out picking mushrooms…a voice in dream says, “not a coincidence” and shows through a mist frame the farmer with a bag of gold.

 

   The image in the mist frame changes, it is her in the cave, her red hair has grown long, she is wearing loose garments, and there are a slew of kids around here; she starts to name them off, “Theo, Leo, Sarron,…”

 

    She is interrupted by the king, riding a white horse, wearing white armor, a white cape, and the golden phoenix that symbolizes this country brazen across his broad chest armor. It’s an impossible scene for him to have the horse down here, but in dreams she just accepts it. One of the boys, with blond hair, and wearing mock armor of the king’s walks up to the king. The king says, “I can never acknowledge you as my son,”

 

   “I don’t care,” says the boy in the king’s voice, “I want only to be near you, to serve you.”

  “Then you will be my general when you are older.” Says the king as he takes the boy.

 

  A black sinew webs over the scene, anchored seemingly by the mist boarder, in the middle two slanted eye shapes appear, filled with blue liquid fire.

 

  “You will grow old,” says a woman’s voice that is somehow familiar, “you will grow fat with inactivity, frail, held in darkness to be the plaything of a tyrant, a mere toy in trunk to be taken out when his libido feels like it. Slave to a man’s lusts, your children, his children will be his slaves, mere pawns whose lives he will throw away, abuse, even violate as he wants.”

 

   “No,” sobs the slave, “I…”

   “Want,” says the voice, “you have wants, you know the truth, you refuse to accept the truth, held down, weakened, you want…”

 

    “Freedom,” says the slave girl, “I want power, freedom,…revenge, I want my life back, I…”

 

   “Sold into slavery behind the farmer’s wife’s back, held down by the magic choker since the age of five…you are not who you should be…you should be me.”

 

   “Yes,” says the slave girl, “I want out, I want what I deserve, not to be a slave, to be free.”

 

  “Meteors may fall on all of Northendia,” says another voice interrupting the dream; the sinews slightly fading, “many will die.”

 

   “I don’t care!” yells out the slave, “take my body, set me free!”

 

   The eyes glow bright as the sinews regain their appearance, white light over comes and the slave girl wakes up.

 

   She is looking at the bright light coming from the cave entrance, this river is shallow and must come from outside, now she can see how a horse can get in here, and how confident these fools are she can’t escape. Her thoughts surprise her. She looks up at wall drawings invisible in the darkness of animal headed people, “The gods,” she says, “they look just like those gods on Kimeta.”

 

   Her eyes shoot wide open as memories flood her mind, dreams make sense now.

 

   Far away to the north a man in a rather large home sits in a wooden chair surrounded by others, tossing scraps to dogs. Embedded in his throne is a red gem, it glows, alarming those around him. He jumps from his chair as the gem pops out of its scorched hole and lands on the table. It stops glowing. He picks it up after testing it with his fingers, an image shoots into his mind of the little girl he sold into slavery so many years ago, of the metal egg he took apart after his wife left him and found the various gems stored magically inside it, most of which he sold to make his fortune and buy up real estate to make even more money, keeping only this one as a momento and sign of his wealth. Suddenly his hand is enveloped in pink light and quickly the flesh melts away to bone, and bone to dust. He hardly has time to scream as the word, “traitor!” screams from the gem in a woman’s voice and it vanishes.

 

   Back in the cave the slave girl is burning up, her body red, her mind a flame, she makes her way to the stream, steam rising as she enters it. Above her the gem appears. She holds her hands towards its warm comforting glow. Black and red mist shoots from the gem and envelops her, soaking into her flesh. The burning stops, the magic choker vanishes, as does the barrier around the cave, it cracks like green glass, the shards hovering a moment before turning into a green sparkling energy and being sucked into her in a spiral. Her body changes, she grows a little taller, her body becomes toned as though she had lived the life of a warrior and not a palace slave, she tosses the wig away as her red hair grows out, down to her shoulder blades, then darkens to a blood red. She stands and smiles, stepping from the pool, with a flick of her index and middle finger from her right hand she summons blue flames around her body that form into black clothing, boots, tight pants, corset like top, chocker, and a cape with a red interior.

 

   She smiles and says, “Deus Ex Machina bitches,”

 

  Her laugh echoes on the walls, “Rhulan is back! Yam-Dora you vile Eldritch Horror, you thought to turn me into a child, to blurr away thousands of years of memory and experience to make me helpless on this primitive mud ball…Midgarda was it.”

 

   She looks around, “Little slave girl,” she rubs her throat, “damn, a magic bond that suppressed my budding powers and even the nanite induced strength I had as a child. That creature must have known they’d do that…anywho…possessed by a witch…lets have some fun shall we.”

 

   She walks back up the steps into the palace, a few guards following a Holy Priest who detected the magic down below.

 

   “Who are you?” asks the Holy Priest.

 

  Rhulan smiles, “I’m the witch,”

 

   “Where’s the slave?” he asks again

 

  Rhulan laughs, “I ate her.”

 

  In a flash she clasps her hand on the priest’s throat.

 

  “For inventing that magic bond that even slave traders may use, a gift from me to you.”

 

  Her hand glows pink, his flesh dissolves away leaving only weak bleached vertebrae and his head falls off backwards.

 

  The guards come at her with spears, but with a wave her hand a mighty invisible force throws them down the hall. They are helpless as she makes her way past them.

 

  “It’s here,” she thinks, “that voice that tried to stop the slave girl version of me, from accepting me, how serendipitous, but of course it’s the only thing that has kept me from reclaiming my body all these years beyond minor emotional outbursts that might as well have been dreams.

 

   The guards blocking the king’s chamber are defenseless, she merely grabs their spears and snaps off the heads as she picks up both men and tosses them aside like flicking away flakes. Inside the king is in the middle of fucking his queen missionary style, his hands crushing her tits as if he were trying to squeeze milk from an empty sack.

 

   He leaps from the bed and grabs his sword, not caring that his dick hangs out for all to see. Rhulan looks down and smiles as she says, “with that you nearly gave rise to your demise, just one need not have had that collar and their power could have grown to crush you.”

 

   The queen looks curios at the woman, something…familiar, it comes to her but the king shouts out, “Who are you? How did you get into my chamber?”

 

   “I am Rhulan the sorceress,” she says, “and until yesterday I was trapped in the form of a weak and defenseless girl, who you tossed in a rather odd dungeon.”

 

   “The witch,” says the man, “so this is your true form! So those slave traders were telling the truth, the moment the bond weakens you display dangerous magic, I won’t make that mistake again.”

 

   A brief blurry memory of the slave traders taking off the bond and her suddenly causing things around her to burst into flame before they put it back on comes to her; and this bastard knew all along this slave girl had this power inside her…of course.

 

   “That’s why you took this one slave girl into your bed, instead of executing or just strengthening that bond like your Holy Priests have done in the past, locking her into a special dungeon just for you, you wanted a true god king to succeed you, to keep your lie of a dynasty going with some validity. But if I played the role of man and impregnated your wife…heh…that’s why you’re fucking her now when she should still be in that three day cleansing ritual…just in case, so you could claim the child.”

 

   “I don’t need you now,” says the king, “powers or not, you have no training in your powers, you are just a helpless witch going on instinct. My enchanted sword was forged to slay witches and demons. Haaaa!”

 

   He lunges at her, she grabs the blade in her hand, crushing it as one would crush clay. Then with a flick

she knocks off the tip.

 

   “Next up your dick,” she says as she grabs the king by his hair and drags him to the bed, she flings him on the bed.

 

   “Look at that,” says Rhulan, “hard as a rock already, you really are kinky.”

 

   With a gesture violet and pink energy threads appear and bind his arms to the head of the bed, his ankles to the foot, and one wraps around his throat.

 

   “being choked isn’t fun,” says Rhulan rubbing her throat, “and thanks to you assholes I might have an issue about it from now on.”

 

    The queen just sits there mesmerized.

 

   “I haven’t forgotten you my dear,” says Rhulan, “stand up and show me that gorgeous body.”

 

   The queen stands as Rhulan comes over, now taller than the queen, she wraps her arm around the queen’s waist. The king is silent wandering what is happening. Rhulan’s hand comes down just above the queen’s clit, her fingers split around like she is about to scissor it with her fingers. She presses her body against the queen’s back, her breasts on the queen’s shoulder blades, she whispers in the queen’s ear, free of her short hair, “you don’t want to be the queen do you…you want to be the king.”

 

   The queen nods, and *ah* as Rhulan plunges her index and middle finger into the queen’s most intimate place and hooks up into her G-spot. Rhulan bumps her hips into the queen’s backside as she pulls her hand from the queen’s snatch and produces a phallus as large as the king’s. She keeps her hand wrapped around as the queen nearly collapses from what felt like the biggest sneeze she ever had coupled with an orgasm.

 

   “Oh my,” says the queen, a mischievous smile over her face.

 

   “and there,” says Rhulan pointing at the king, “is your queen, do with her as you will.”

 

   The queen crawls onto the bed between the king’s legs, a look of a hungry lion in her eyes.

 

   “Now wait a minute,” protests the king as Rhulan magically raises his ass in the air and places sheets and pillows under it.

 

   “Hold on,” says Rhulan as the queen has her hands on the king’s hips and is about to plunge in, “I am not a monster,”

 

   She *spits* on the king’s ass, “as you once said…your majesty…that is all the lubrication an ass needs.”

 

   The queen presses her cockhead against his anus, finding some resistance. Rhulan lies down next to the king, her boot covered ankle erotically massaging his ankle, as her tits rub against his side, she whispers in his ear, “you are going to want to relax or this is really going to hurt, but in a moment you are going to love it.”

 

   She looks up at the queen, “go slowly at first, when the resistance is lessened go faster,”

 

  She whispers in the king’s ear, “by the way, that is a magic dick; it won’t go limp after one spent and she can keep going via its magic for hours.”

 

   As the queen enters his forbidden place he says, “you…uh….can’t…oh…get away…oh my…”

 

   The queen pulls out a little halfway in and plunges back in, the king emits a “oh my god,” as she starts to get her rhythm going.

 

   “The…oh my…I…uh…the priests…oh god….tehy….oh my god…wi….hmmgm…will…oh, oh…sense…for fuck’s sake…oh shit, oh shit…this…”

 

   His own dick is rock hard and leaking pre-cum.

 

   Rhulan lowers her mouth to it but smiles just above, “like I’m ever sticking this thing in my mouth ever again without you pleasuring me first….however,”

 

   She *sighs* as she rubs her hand up the length, a blue energy coming over it, the king feels like something has tightened on his prick and plugged it up.

 

   “Don’t want you getting yours too soon,” says Rhulan, “your majesties, enjoy yourselves, I’ll be right back, have something to attend to.”

 

   As she leaves the moans of protest have changed, it now sounds like two bitches in heat in there, animals rather than humans.

 

  “Halt!” yells a Holy Priest with some guards, “vile dem…”

 

  The Holy Priest falls into trance as Rhulan waves her hand and a blue sigil forms on his face, the guards fall to the ground asleep.

 

   “Fifteen years trapped as a helpless girl is hardly enough time to diminish my power,” says Rhulan, “heh, especially as it was all just a shell, my true self could never be changed only moved.” Her mind remembers the red gem, like a crystal prison for her true self while her once flesh moved about with her aware in the background.

 

  The priests have retreated, she senses those left as she makes this one lead the way to a secret chamber beneath the palace. The priest opens the secret door. Inside are the Holy Priests gathered around a table a red orb in the middle of it, many sigils around, seal breakers, a red barrier around them all, as two hold the barrier and seven chant the seal breakers.

 

  “Yam-Dora,” says Rhulan, “so this is where my Soul Crystal went after our battle. Your priests must have found it, and been trying to free you from it all this time; well that explains…a lot actually, like anyone knowing to put a seal on me, keep me here being humiliated…you eldritch horrors, always doing psychological tormenting shit from behind the scenes. Well games over, time to come with me.”

 

   She backhands the one priest into a wall killing him.

 

  “I am Yam-Dora,” says the sphere, “my power can’t.”

 

   “Demon’s Rapier!” yells out Rhulan as the chaos energy around her arm and hand slices through the barrier, the mental shock making the brains rupture of the two priests tied to that eldritch barrier.

 

   “So like you creatures, no surge protectors in your spells.” she says mockenly.

 

   “Stay back!” yells a priest getting off the table the sigil before him going dark,

 

   “Noooooo” trails Yam-Dora as his voice goes silent, the other priests now taxing with the loss of one who is trying to chant some spell, something too long as Rhulan just punches him in the gut to shut him up, a little too hard and ruptures several major organs including the lungs and heart…perhaps forgetting her own strength, or that part of her that was a slave for fifteen years acting out her vengeance on those directly responsible for the circumstances that permitted this situation to even exist for so long, who knew she was special and acted on the orders of a shapeless horror to torment her, and trick the king and queen into greater torments for her with that shower trap, to degrade her, her whose power can and has already crushed their god. Even lost in thought she has brutally murdered the remaining priests, ripping through them like a sword through paper dolls, this room is now red for another reason.

 

   Rhulan picks up the soul crystal, “Let’s see lost a Suihrai mech suit with Ju-el safety pods fighting you, and thanks to you taking advantage of a flaw…making a mental note of that…in their preservation pods tried to make me vulnerable to your priests…also making a mental note some you bastards have priests that can apparently find you even when imprisoned….after…damn I must have been in that pod along time…this world had cars and glass buildings when we fought…damn. Anywho.”

 

   She opens her cape and metal tentacles grab the orb and pull it in. Rhulan makes her way back upstairs the sounds coming from the king are not shrill and very girlish, begging for release. The queen is covered in sweat and has already cum three times, each time taking longer than the last, her look one of pure pleasure from the sense of power over the king.

 

   As Rhulan enters the room she creates a blue sigil under the bed, its light makes the queen stop despite her enjoyment.

 

    “What was that?” asks the queen between breaths, the king can’t even speak, his eyes are glazed over, tongue out, panting.

 

   Rhulan walks over and waves her hand over the king’s dick, making the energy fade before she speaks, “Psychomantic seal, from this day forward anyone other than you two who looks at you will see the king as the queen and vice versa, oh and king,”

 

   She places her hand on his head, glowing white, he comes back to his full strength. She does the same for the queen.

 

   “Fully rehydrated and stamina restored, oh and also king, you’re sterile now, and queen, you can impregnate women now…not his majesty here of course, he just looks like a girl to others.”

 

   All this they took in without the queen pulling out or losing her hardness. The queen starts to pump slowly, her dick demanding it with renewed vigor.

 

   “The…mmm…priests,” starts the king.

 

   “Oh them,” says Rhulan, “they were worshiping an ancient monster called Yam-Dora, planning to take over

your kingdom, yadda yadda, and so forth, and I’m an ancient goddess who banished Yam-Dora, but he turned me into a mortal girl as his last act, so in short, traitors, I’m a goddess not a demon, and as you both have pleasured me as well as tormented me your punishments and gifts are intertwined.

 

   “Speaking of which,” says Rhulan making her clothes save for a black bra vanish, “as the king is now to be a queen…which by the way clothes don’t count for the illusion so you both need to dress appropriately or it will look strange to the people outside, we need to train the king to be a good girl.”

 

    Rhulan crawls on the bed and straddles his face, “first lesson, pleasuring your new goddess for a change.”

 

   His nose is in her ass, but his tongue is in the right place, he has no idea what to do with it so sticks it out and tries to lick, and shove it inside her best he can.

 

   Rhulan smiles at the queen who while pumping her hips into the king leans over and kisses Rhulan passionately, their tongues wrestling as their lips smack hungrily. Rhulan leans down and places kisses along the queen’s neck, shoulders, chest, down the slope of her breasts, before lifting one up and taking the nipple into her mouth teasing the tip with her tongue before rolling it around the areola. With a slight prick of her finger nail on the other nipple the queen’s tits swell, and a sensation she has never experienced happens, something comes out of her tits. Rhulan suckles hungrily a little drip in the corner of her smile as she feeds the queen her own milk.

 

   Rhulan gets off the kings face and crawls over the large bed to the queen’s side, “our little girl here is going to need some better training before he can please another woman with that tongue that has been adjusted for harsh words rather than soft praises. She says as she waves her hand and the king becomes unrestrained, “with this spell I switched not only your appearances to others, but I also switched your physical strength…magically of course you still look the same naturally.”

 

   It is true, as the king rides the queen’s rod now sitting up in her lap, no longer protesting. His dick throbs revealing he is about to cum. Rhulan lowers her head and takes his shaft in her mouth, she doesn’t suck or lick, just holds it there much like his dead tongue in her. She shoots his load finally. Before he can say anything Rhulan grabs his hair, yanks his head back, mouth open, and spits his massive built up load into his mouth. He chokes on it.

 

   “Tastes like salty snotty shit doesn’t it,” says Rhulan, “and you will take one of your own load for every time you made me swallow yours asshole.”

 

   “Hmmm..mmmm,” says the queen, “speaking of which, I’m not done,”

 

  “new queen,” says Rhulan smiling at the king, “suckle the new king.”

 

   He does, getting a few drops before his head is ripped away with an “ow” from the queen, “okay, first thing is we teach you how to handle a lady’s breasts properly.”

 

   “Until then,” says Rhulan, “let’s try another position, one just for the prick to work with.”

 

  They flip the king over onto his hands and knees for the queen to ram him like a real animal. The queen rams home, with more power than before, making the *grunting* king work just to stay on his hands and knees. Rhulan gets behind the queen and gently massages her breasts while teasing her nipples and suckling on her neck, with little licks here and there.

 

   It went on like this for most of the day and night, Rhulan using magic to keep them invigorated.

 

   So it was that the kingdom changed, much for the better, almost overnight. Rhulan secretly ran things from behind the scenes, enjoying a vacation that lasted nearly thirty years, making up much for her treatment over her vulnerable fifteen years there. She had thought of remaining and being the goddess behind the scenes for generations to come; but the clock was ticking, even with distorted time her absence would be noticed as strange if gone for much longer; so Rhulan left Midgarda for The Society of Sorcery leaving behind a legacy of power with various other changes and additions she made to her lovers, King Osiris and Queen Nephys, previously Queen and King of this land respectably.

 

   Back in the Society of Sorcery she holds the soul crystal of Yam-Dora and places it in her secret chamber for the ritual supplies and says to it, “Over the years I tried to think of a fitting revenge on you, but nothing is worse than what I was going to do to you anyway, killing you and making you part of a weapon to serve me for all eternity.”