The Sorceress Who Bent the Hero in Her Throne

For years, no man who crossed the gates of the Citadel of Ash had ever lived to tell the tale. The souls of the nearby villages spoke of the black tower as a mouth that swallowed heroes, and every spring a new one would set out, swearing he was different, swearing that he would be the one to bring her down.

That afternoon it was Aldric’s turn.

He had survived the pit traps, the bone hounds, and a bridge that gave way beneath his feet. He reached the throne room with his armor dented and his sword still steady in his hand. He was proud. So proud that he didn’t realize that was exactly what she was waiting for.

—You’ve come far —said a voice from the back.

Seated on a throne of stone and roots, Nerissa waited for him. Blonde, with impossible violet eyes, dressed in a black corset that barely contained anything and a skirt slit to the hip. She didn’t look like a witch about to die. She looked like a woman who already knew how the afternoon would end, and who was already licking her lips at the cock the idiot was carrying beneath his mail.

—I’ve come to hunt you down —Aldric declared, pointing his steel at her—. Surrender and I’ll make it quick.

She tilted her head, amused, and bit her lip like someone holding back laughter.

—Quick? —she repeated—. The kingdom really doesn’t send much imagination these days. I thought I’d spend the whole afternoon with you, darling. Starting with those balls you’re so burdened by.

Aldric took a step. Nerissa lazily raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Something appeared between them: a small red velvet pouch, tied with a cord. The hero frowned, not understanding, and that was his last expression as a confident man.

She closed her fist.

Pain hit him all at once, from the very center of his body, as if an icy hand had seized his balls and crushed them against the bone. Aldric dropped his sword and fell to his knees with a cry that rang through the whole hall. He grabbed at his groin, gasping, unable to breathe.

—Magic, darling —said Nerissa, never rising from her seat—. I squeeze when I want. I loosen when I want. And I come when I want, too, while I’m squeezing you.

She loosened. Aldric gulped in air. Before he could recover, she clenched her fist again, slowly this time, savoring it, and the hero doubled over once more on the stone floor.

—Please —he moaned. The word escaped him on its own, before he could stop it.

Please. A minute ago he’d come to kill her and now he was begging.

—That’s better —she purred—. Now we’re speaking the same language.

From the shadows of the hall emerged her creatures: tall figures with grayish skin and massive hands, who needed no order. They stripped his armor off piece by piece, the straps, the mail, until Aldric was left naked and trembling on the cold tiles. They bound his wrists behind his back and forced him onto all fours, head bowed, ass in the air, pride in tatters.

Nerissa finally came down from the throne. She walked around him barefoot, studying him like someone evaluating a purchase.

—Look at you —she said—. So big with a sword in your hand, and such a tiny little cock down here.

She brushed his balls with the tip of her foot, almost tenderly, and then pressed. Not hard. Just enough for him to understand she could burst them whenever she felt like it. Aldric clenched his teeth and endured it, because something in that absolute contempt was starting to awaken a different shame in him, one that burned instead of freezing. And his cock, the traitor that it was, began to swell against the cold stone.

—Feel that? —she whispered, bending down to his ear—. Your body is betraying you. You hate this and yet you’re getting hard like a teenager. How funny: you come to kill me and you show me your dick.

She was right. Aldric shut his eyes, humiliated, because his shaft was answering despite him, hardening against his will while a woman treated him like a dog. She ran the sole of her foot beneath his glans, pushing it upward, and he let out a muffled groan that rose from his gut without permission.

Nerissa crouched, wrapped her hand around his cock, and weighed it as if appraising fruit. She squeezed the base with two fingers, pulled the foreskin back with her thumb, and watched the head swell purple beneath the hall’s blue light. She wasn’t masturbating him. She was just holding it, still, so he could feel every last inch of his humiliation.

—God gave it to you so well and you use it so badly —she said, and spat on it. The saliva ran warm down his glans and over his balls. Aldric gasped, his face burning—. Shut up. You haven’t said a single good thing all afternoon.

She buried her fingers in his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at her. With her other hand she lifted the slit skirt and, without any further preamble, brought her cunt to his mouth. She was wet, shining, shaved except for a strip of golden hair. She smelled of rutting female and power.

—Lick —she ordered—. And God help you if I have to teach you how to eat pussy.

Aldric stuck out his tongue without resisting. He ran it from bottom to top, slow, clumsy at first, until he found the swollen clit. Nerissa sighed, rested one leg over his shoulder, and rode his mouth with ease, rubbing herself against his stubble. She yanked his hair when he did well and slapped the back of his neck when he slackened. The hero licked her like a desperate puppy, sucking at her inner lips, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could, while tears and saliva mixed with her juices and soaked his chin.

—That’s it, yes —she panted, clutching his hair with both hands—. That’s the only language you’ve got left, hero. Your tongue between a woman’s legs.

When she felt herself trembling over his face, when her cunt clenched against his mouth in the afternoon’s first orgasm, Nerissa abruptly pulled away and left him kneeling, panting, his chin shining and an erection nearly brushing his navel.

—Say it —she ordered, still breathless—. Say you’re mine. I want to hear it in that hero voice of yours.

He clenched his jaw, resisting. She closed her fist in the air again, just for an instant, and pain shot through his belly like a bolt that twisted his balls. When she let go, the words escaped him in defeated gasps.

—I’m yours —murmured Aldric, hating how much relief surrender gave him.

—Mistress —murmured one of the creatures—, what do we do with him?

Nerissa straightened, brought one finger to her lips, and smiled.

—The usual —she said—. Teach him manners. Every hole.

***

What followed lasted hours, or what felt like hours to Aldric. The creatures used him in turns, unhurried. Two of them hauled him up from the floor and spread his knees wide to leave him fully exposed; a third stood in front of him and pulled from between its legs a gray cock, long and thick as a blacksmith’s forearm, with a shiny glans dripping warm slime.

The creature seized his jaw, pried his mouth open with its fingers, and shoved the cock down his throat. Aldric coughed, arched his back, felt the gag reflex climb up his chest, but the hand on his nape did not let him escape. They fucked his mouth without tenderness, with long thrusts that made snot and tears run down to his chin, while another creature settled behind him and spread his ass cheeks with two cold thumbs.

—Mistress —growled the one behind—, shall I wet him?

—A little —Nerissa replied from the throne, bored—. Let him know I’m generous.

They spat between his buttocks. Nothing else. Just a string of thick spit that ran along the crease of his ass and slipped into his tight asshole. Then came the glans. Thick, impossible, pushing in slowly until Aldric felt himself being torn open from the inside. He screamed with his mouth full, and the scream came out muffled by the cock filling his throat.

When the creature behind reached the hilt, it stayed there for a few seconds, savoring the way the hero trembled skewered through both ends. Then it started moving. And the two creatures found a rhythm, one going in as the other withdrew, rocking him between them like a rag doll.

By force, Aldric learned a lesson no weapons master had ever taught him: that pain and pleasure do not always know how to tell themselves apart, and that the line between begging them to stop and begging them not to was far thinner than any hero would care to admit. Because by the tenth thrust, when the deep sting began to brush against something inside him he hadn’t known was there, his cock had gotten harder than ever and a thick vein began to stand out along the underside.

Nerissa watched it all from the throne, reclining on one side, one hand sliding between her own thighs. She wasn’t touching anyone else. She didn’t need to. She stroked her cunt slowly with two fingers, sinking them to the knuckles, drawing them back out shining, sucking them while she watched. It was enough for her to direct the scene’s rhythm with a lazy flick of the wrist, speeding things up here, stopping them there, playing with the hero’s body like a puppeteer with strings.

—Harder from behind —she ordered—. I want him to feel it tomorrow when he sits down. And you, take the cock out, I want to see his face.

They pulled the cock from Aldric’s mouth and he breathed in ragged gasps, chin coated in thick saliva and beast-semen, panting obscenities he didn’t even understand himself. Twice they came over his face, hot, viscous spurts hanging from his lashes and beard, and Nerissa laughed as if they were telling her the funniest joke in the world.

—Spread his legs —she ordered at one point—. I want to see how he comes.

They laid him on his back, knees pressed to his chest and hands still tied beneath his body. One creature mounted him, shoved it back in his ass to the hilt, and started fucking him while staring into his eyes. Nerissa came over, crouched beside his head, grabbed his cock with her hand, and stroked him slowly, her wrist loose, while she spoke into his ear.

—Cum, hero —she whispered, moving her closed hand up and down over the glans—. Cum while a beast fucks your ass and a woman laughs in your face. Spill every last drop. Cum and admit what you are.

Aldric held out as long as he could. He held on, teeth clenched, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of his mother, his king, anything. But her hand moved with a perverse rhythm, twisting her thumb over the swollen crown with each stroke, and the beast’s cock drove into that spot inside him over and over, sending currents through his whole back.

He came with a scream. He screamed like he never had, not even when she’d squeezed his balls with magic. Semen burst from him in long, thick jets that splattered his chest, his face, her hand, and Nerissa kept jerking him long after the last drop, milking him until he cried from pain and pleasure mixed together.

—Good boy —she murmured, sucking her stained fingers—. You taste salty. Like all of them.

Every time he tried to cling to some remnant of dignity, she ripped it away from him with a single word. She made him repeat what he was, what he would never be again, how little he was worth before a woman who didn’t even need to stand up to have him on his knees. She made him say out loud “I’m a whore,” “I’m a hole for your beasts,” “I love getting fucked in the ass,” and he said it, repeated it, moaned it, each time with less shame and more urgency. And the worst part, what Aldric would never confess, was that at some point that night he stopped fighting shame and started seeking it.

When he no longer had the strength even to tremble, when they’d made him come three times and the fourth time he was only leaking a thin clear thread, Nerissa left him sprawled on his back, breathing in tatters, chest smeared with another’s semen, gaze lost in the rafters overhead. She walked up to him, rested a bare foot on his chest, and pressed—not to hurt him, but to remind him where his place was.

Then she climbed on top of him. She crouched over his face, spread her cunt with two fingers, and let it fall into his mouth like setting down a goblet.

—Ask for it —she ordered, her voice rough—. I want to hear you ask for it.

And Aldric, who that very morning had believed himself the man destined to free the realm, asked for it. He begged to come in her mouth, to be pissed on, to have her do whatever she wanted with him. With words he would never repeat to anyone, he begged for it.

She rocked slowly against his tongue, gripping his hair with both hands, riding his face with no hurry at all. When pleasure finally detonated in her, she pressed herself to his mouth until he nearly suffocated, and he drank every drop as if his life truly depended on it. All that was left of the hero was a broken, empty man, and curiously at peace, as though an entire lifetime of proving his worth had fallen from his shoulders there, on the floor of that hall.

—Another one falls —Nerissa thought, catching her breath—. Always the same ending.

She ordered him locked away downstairs, with the others. She didn’t kill them; that would have been wasteful. She kept them. A collection of proud men turned into tame pets, who no longer remembered why they had come, and who fought each other to lick her feet when she came down for a visit.

***

Several weeks passed before the light in the tower flickered again, signaling that another intruder had crossed the moat.

This one was different. She knew it the moment she saw him enter: tall, dark-haired, with a calm she had not seen in the others. His name was Cedric, and he walked to the center of the hall without pointing his sword at her, as if the whole fortress belonged to him.

—Surrender —he said, serene.

Nerissa laughed. That calm arrogance excited her more than any bluster. She felt her panties go wet all at once, her cunt tightening in anticipation. She decided she would take her time with this one. That she would break him slowly, herself, without haste, because she found him too beautiful to hand over to the creatures. She was going to ride him herself until she broke him.

—No, darling —she said, descending from the throne with a slow sway of her hips—. Better let’s play. I’m going to suck your cock and then you’re going to fuck me like a good boy, and when you’re done you’re going to crawl after me forever.

She came to within a handspan of him, close enough to feel his breath. Cedric did not back away. She liked that. She slid her hand over his groin, squeezing his balls through the fabric, and lifted her knee suddenly to smash it between his legs with all the malice in the world, the same blow that had put a hundred men on their knees.

Cedric didn’t even flinch.

Nerissa blinked. She squeezed again, searching for the balls with her palm. Nothing. There was nothing to grab. Only soft cloth over smooth emptiness. The hero kept looking at her with the same irritating calm, and for the first time in years something like fear ran down her spine.

—I knew how you fought —he said softly, stepping forward while she retreated—. I know what you do to the men who come in here. Your power clings to what they fear losing most.

He opened the front of his tunic for just an instant, just enough for her to understand. Where there should have been a cock and balls, there was nothing. Smooth skin, a pale scar, silence. There was nothing her magic could seize, squeeze, or twist. He had surrendered it before setting out, knowing full well, as the price of crossing those gates.

—I weighed my fears in the light —said Cedric—. And I came with nothing you could crush.

—No —murmured Nerissa, and her voice, for once, trembled.

Her hand flew up to snap her fingers, to summon the velvet pouch, but the cord hung limp in the air, empty, useless. The hero was on her before she could blink. There were no screams this time, no monsters, no throne. Only a flash of steel and the silence that follows the fall of something that believed itself eternal.

The sorceress’s body dissolved into ash, and the ash into light. Throughout the Citadel, the locks opened on their own. The men she had kept below climbed up, blinking toward a sun they had almost forgotten, free at last, though none of them would ever be quite the same again after what they had learned in that hall.

Cedric left last, without looking back. In time he would recover what he had given up; there was very old magic for that, slow and costly, but it existed. For years he would miss what he had surrendered, and each night he would think it had been a fair price.

The kingdom knew peace, at least for a while. Evil always lurks in some tower, waiting for the next man too full of himself. But that, as they say, is another story.