Tales From the Midnight Maw Ch. 03

Eric woke with a groan, sprawled sideways on a tavern mattress, one boot still on, one sock missing, and the faint aftertaste of ale and hot spring minerals lingering on his tongue.

He stretched like a smug cat, scratched his bare chest, and blinked blearily at the ceiling beams above. He was alone this morning, no naked elves posing in the mirror for his entertainment. Still, there was a satisfying ache in his thighs from the previous evening.

"That," he muttered, "was a damn good day."

Downstairs, the tavern's common room was already humming with quiet morning energy--low sunlight slanting through dusty windows, the clink of mugs being cleaned, and the unmistakable sound of Annabelle's voice... in lively conversation.

Eric descended the stairs in his trousers and a loose shirt, hair tousled, looking very much like a man who had slept like a god and had no shame about it.

At the bar, Salem was leaning forward, chin on hand, eyes sparkling as she and Annabelle laughed over something whispered between them. Ivy sat nearby, tucked stiffly onto a stool, hands wrapped around a mug like it might anchor her to reality. Her cheeks were crimson.

"She actually said that?" Annabelle was saying, mid-laugh.

Salem smirked. "Word for word. You should have seen the bard's face! Though technically it was Ivy's..."

Annabelle wheezed. "Gods above, I can't believe you actually lost your virginity through an out-of-body experience! Though I'm not one to judge, what with my mimic fetish..."

"His tongue has a rhythm of its own," Salem agreed slyly.

Ivy let out a tiny whimper and stared into her cup like she might find answers there.

Eric grinned, strolling up behind them. "Morning, sinners. Did I miss a prayer circle, or are you worshiping me instead?"

Annabelle choked on her drink.

Salem didn't miss a beat. "Just recounting your performance yesterday, love. Isn't that right, Pinky?"

Ivy squeaked. "I think I'm gonna pass out."

Eric slid onto the stool next to her and nudged her shoulder. "Don't worry. Happens to all of us our first time having sex with ourselves."

Ivy covered her face.

Annabelle finally caught her breath. "You know, you could go check in with Seymore. I bet he'd love a taste of our new tiefling friend.."

Ivy blushed silently. They'd clearly filled her in on the mimic downstairs, and how it filled Annabelle in on a regular basis.

Eric waggled his eyebrows. "After breakfast."

From across the room, the dull rustle of parchment caught their attention.

Chris stood at the quest board, arms folded, scanning the cluttered notices pinned to it with narrowed eyes. A breeze blew in through the window beside him, making his coat flutter slightly.

"I'm surprised you haven't moved in with that board," Eric called. "Is it your emotional support notice wall now?"

Chris pulled down a thick piece of parchment, sealed with a strange chain-shaped wax crest. "We're low on funds. Salem's spell components. My arrows. All that ale you put back in the evenings. All of that takes coin. Gold. You got any?"

Eric shrugged and pulled his empty pockets inside out. "I'm charming. I've never had to pay for a drink in my life."

Annabelle giggled. "You'll pay for these. One way--" She glanced slowly down to his crotch. "Or another."

Chris ignored the sexual tension and crossed the room to the bar, parchment in hand.

"This one," he said, sliding it onto the counter.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "One of the more serious jobs. Go big or go home, I guess."

She flattened the parchment while Salem read aloud:

"Cleanse the Temple of the Chained God. Location: Ravine northeast of Hollowpine. Status: Active corruption. Compensation: Arcane relics of divine heritage--plus hazard pay."

Annabelle looked up. "This isn't a simple exorcism. The temple's built around bondage worship--pleasure and discipline tied together, quite literally. The magic there didn't die with the god it served. It sleeps."

Eric perked up. "You said 'hazard pay' and 'bondage' in the same sentence. I'm in."

Annabelle leaned on the bar, serious now. "It's not just about relic-hunting. That temple's magic is bleeding into the surrounding woods. Local wildlife's been turning hostile--boars in heat, vines attacking travelers, nymphs too aggressive to talk to. If you purify the site, you'll cut the corruption off at the source. It'll help the villages reclaim peace."

Ivy looked thoughtful, her mug held close. "You said it was built for a god?"

Annabelle nodded. "Vesperis. Long gone now, but his domain was... control. Sacred submission. Ecstasy through surrender."

Ivy's eyes widened slightly. She stared into the middle distance, a small wrinkle forming between her brows.

Eric leaned over to whisper. "That wrinkle means she's thinking impure thoughts about the quest, right?"

Ivy whispered back, "I'm just wondering how much of me I have to hold back if I want to stay on my new gods' good side."

Salem tilted her head, watching her with quiet amusement. "You don't even know what gods are sponsoring your divine magic yet. For all you know, this is the kind of shit they get off to."

Ivy's blush deepened, not just from the flirtation, but from the admission that until she knew more about her faith, she'd have no idea how innocent--or naughty--she'd need to be to stay in their favor. As a general rule, gods tended to favor purity. The benevolent ones, at least.

Chris simply tapped the parchment again. "We leave at noon. Any objections?"

There were none. They'd wish they had.

~~~

The road northeast of Hollowpine wound through pine-shadowed ridges and lush lowland woods, the scent of wild mint and sap rising in the spring air. The terrain grew more rugged with each hour--soft forest floor giving way to narrow switchbacks of shale and root-choked trails that climbed toward the ravine.

Salem moved in quiet reflection, her staff swinging casually over her shoulder. Ivy walked beside her, unusually quiet, her usual shy glances turned inward today.

Eric trailed behind them with a leisurely gait, lute strapped across his back, humming a soft tune about "blessing the bindings" and "submitting with style." He added the occasional wink toward Ivy, who blushed harder each time and pretended not to hear.

Chris, of course, walked at the front--bow ready, eyes sharp, senses tuned. Even here, in bright daylight, he didn't trust the quiet.

It had been hours since they left Duskhallow, and Ivy hadn't said more than ten words.

Salem finally nudged her. "You alright?"

Ivy looked up, startled. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm just... thinking."

Salem arched an eyebrow. "About the chains?"

Eric chimed in behind them, "She's clearly wondering if the Chained God took notes during the hot spring session. Can't blame him."

Ivy shot him a glare, but it softened quickly. "It's not just that. I mean--yeah, I'm curious. I'd have to be dead not to be. But..." She looked down at her hands, curling her fingers slowly. "When I cast a spell now, it doesn't feel the same. It's not the Velvet Thorn's energy. It never really was, I don't think. It's something else. Warmer. More powerful today. But still quiet."

"Not all deities have our best interests at heart," Chris mused from ahead. "Be careful putting your trust in something so powerful--and so secretive."

She bit her lip. "I've been praying, but... no one's answering."

Salem was quiet a moment. Then she said, "Most gods don't talk aloud. Some don't talk at all. You just keep doing the work. The connection follows."

"I guess," Ivy whispered.

But that uncertainty stayed in her shoulders, in the tension of her tail, in the way her eyes kept scanning the trees like she expected to find her faith hiding behind a rock.

They crested a rise just before midday.

Below them, the land split into a deep ravine--jagged, natural, and yet... too symmetrical. A stone staircase descended between two broken obelisks etched with ancient runes. From their perch, they could see the temple's facade: black stone, half-swallowed by moss and vine, flanked by two statues of blindfolded angels bound at wrist and ankle.

A soft hum drifted from the entrance. It was barely audible--but it wasn't music.

It was breath. Moaning.

Chris stopped. He raised a fist in signal. The others went quiet behind him.

He turned slightly, eyes fixed on the temple below.

"No more fucking around," he said, voice low but firm. "This place isn't like the spring."

Eric gave a small, nervous smile. "Not even a pun about our 'bonding experience?'"

Chris didn't blink.

"Right. Focused. Totally serious," Eric muttered.

Salem adjusted the grip on her staff, face composed. "The air's different here."

Ivy shivered. "It feels like... it's watching us."

Chris nodded. "It is."

The party descended the staircase, each step drawing them deeper into the heart of the forgotten god's domain.

The temple doors stood slightly open, chains draped loosely across them--not to keep people out, but to invite them in.

~~~

The door groaned open on silent hinges, releasing a breath of air that was warm and damp, tinged with incense and something darker--flesh-scented, musk-heavy.

The Temple of the Chained God didn't creak or crumble like a ruin. It welcomed.

Inside the torch sconces ignited, flickering magical flames cast shifting shadows over ancient stonework--pillars carved with interlocking bodies, mural scenes of masked figures in worshipful ecstasy or ritual torment. None of it was crude. It was art. Beautiful, painful, undeniably erotic art.

They stepped carefully through the main corridor, boots echoing softly. The silence wasn't empty. It listened.

They crossed the threshold and stopped.

The chamber beyond the hall was unlike any they'd seen.

Smooth obsidian stone formed a wide, circular floor, polished so finely it mirrored the adventurers' boots as they stepped in. Above them, the vaulted ceiling curved into shadow. There were no torches, no chandeliers--only the eerie glow emanating from two massive mirrored walls.

To the left, a mirror of warm rose and gold shimmered softly, like candlelight behind silk.

To the right, one of polished silver laced with cold violet runes waited, silent and dark.

Chris raised his hand, signaling the others to halt in the center of the room.

Eric whistled low, checking out his refection and stepping closer to the mirror to their left. "Well this place definitely saw me coming." He flexed and grinned.

"Don't touch anything," Salem muttered.

Naturally, Eric ignored her, reaching forward and touching the the glass with his fingertips.

It rippled like disturbed water. And suddenly, all four of them appeared--not as they were, but as they might be in someone's fantasy.

Salem and Ivy, on their knees, bodies wrapped in violet silken rope that left nothing modest, coiling around their limbs and waists like lingerie. Their lips were gagged, hair wild, and they moaned as they beckoned Eric toward them. It echoed through the chamber.

Chris wore his usual stoic glare--but in the reflection, he was gagged, head tilted back, breath fogging the mirror's surface. A collar adorned his neck, and a sleek black chastity cage strapped to his stiffened cock, twitching with restraint. Eric's reflection was identical.

Salem couldn't take her eyes off it. Her mirrored expression was one of conflicted ecstasy, her mouth open in a silent gasp. Behind her, a reflection within a reflection, she could see the mirror to their rear was different.

They turned as one, wary of the figures next to them, and studied the mirror on the right. The scene was quite different from its twin.

Salem and Ivy wore leather dominatrix attire. Ivy's covered just a bit more than her elven companion. They wore stiletto heels that shaped their legs in devilish ways... and would pierce through flesh with the right amount of pressure.

Chris and Eric wore sharp, tailored suits of elven design. Expensive and sleek. They carried riding crops and flogs and wicked grins, dripping with suggestion. No, not suggestion. Command.

Chris took one step back. "Alright. We've seen enough. Let's check the door."

The first mirror pulsed as he took his first step.

Once. Twice.

You must submit... or suffer.

The voice was an echo. Not in the room, but in their minds.

Then, before anyone could react, the mirror's surface turned to quicksilver--and pulled them in.

They landed on polished volcanic glass. Same chamber. Same walls. But wrong. Mirrored. Everything felt off. The air hummed with magic. Their skin prickled.

And they weren't alone.

The four mirror-doppelgangers stepped into view--erotic, perfect reflections, mostly nude and bathed in inner light. Each mirrored their counterpart in every way--save one.

These ones were hungry.

They didn't speak. Just stood silently, watching.

"Okay, let's not make any sudde--" Salem's words were cut short. Her double lurched forward, shrieking with menace. Her fingers stretched, becoming claws. Fangs appeared in her mouth. The others followed, charging forward.

Chris reacted first--arrow already loosed before his friends had fully stood.

It passed right through the Salem-doppelganger, vanishing in a swirl of mist.

"Fuck. They're incorporeal!" he barked.

"Of course they are," Salem snapped, raising her hand for a spell. "They're illusions."

She fired a crackling arc of force--direct hit to Ivy's twin.

Nothing.

The spell dispersed like water through fog.

"Shit," she hissed.

Ivy had already stumbled backward, her mirrored twin stalking toward her slowly, delicately, like a lover about to pounce. "Don't come near me," she whispered.

Eric's doppel was faster.

"Hey! Wait!" he yelped, suddenly dragged down to his knees. "Not the collar! This is imported Sanglish silk!"

His double obeyed, yanking his head up by the chin, one hand gripping tightly around his throat. Claws emerged. Blood began to drip.

Eric struggled, swiping at the doppelganger's arm. It passed right through. He snapped, his rage turning to wit. "Choke me harder!"

A pulse of golden light shimmered around his doppel's shoulders. It shrieked in pain, loosening its grip on Eric's throat. He fell to his feet, gasping for air, still collared in claws.

Everyone paused.

"What the hell was that?" Salem said.

"Did it... respond to that?" Chris asked.

Eric blinked. "I--I think so." Still in his own clutches, he reached forward. His hand gripped the doppel's shoulder, and didn't pass through.

Suddenly, Chris' doppelganger stopped circling, finding an opening and taking the lunge. Chris, naturally, had baited his foe, dodging cleanly out of the way and rolling to put some distance between them. He turned back to the mirror, seeing the room with fresh eyes.

Two mirrors. Two truths.

Of course. he thought. Two sides to every person. One Dominant...

He turned back to Salem as she dodged a swipe from her doppel. Violet shibari rope, used in bondage. And one submissive.

Chris turned toward Salem. "Say something submissive."

"I beg your finest fucking pardon?" she yelled, dodging a swipe at her legs, leaping over clawed fingertips.

He ignored her and shouted, "Eric! Do it again!"

Eric, red-faced, glanced between his doppel and the others. "Do what again? I was just being--me!"

Chris flinched as his doppel snuck up behind him, nearly taking his ear off with a slash and a snarl. "Eric! For fuck's sake! Be submissive!"

Eric sighed. "Ugh... I'm such a bad little slut! Please, choke me harder, sir!"

This time, his doppel fully solidified.

"Got you," Chris muttered.

He fired.

The arrow hit hard, punching into the specter's chest. No passing through this time. It screeched, tried to leap back--but it was too late.

Eric's doppel stuttered backward before crumpling to the floor in a pool of blood.

Eric fell back on his ass, panting. "Okay. Okay, we're good. That worked. I'm fine. I'm great."

"You're filthy," Chris muttered, drawing another arrow.

Ivy whimpered, backing away as her reflection stalked her. "I can't say that stuff," she murmured. "It's wrong. It's blasphemous."

"I literally just watched you fuck yourself last night," Eric replied, pushing a hidden button on his lute and drawing the hidden blade. He wasn't fucking around anymore.

Ivy blushed. "That was different--I was under a spell. I was serving the sex cult. I'm a holy cleric now!"

"You're about to be holy like cheese if you don't!"

Her twin leaned in, finger outstretched, as if to stroke her cheek with ghostly affection.

"You're pretty," it whispered. "And once I've killed you, I'm going to take your place!" It stepped closer.

Salem was locked in a dance with hers--dodging, firing spells that kept whiffing harmlessly through mist. But she was slowing. Breathing heavier. Her doppelganger circled her like a wolf.

Chris turned to Ivy. "You don't have to mean it. Just say something. Play along."

"I..." she trembled. "I want to serve. Please let me serve."

Her doppel cried in pain, her legs glowing with a corporeal shimmer. It wasn't enough. Chris loosed his arrow and struck the specter through the thigh anyway.

It screamed and bled, but didn't die.

"Try harder!" he shouted.

Ivy dropped to her knees as her doppelganger charged. "Punish me, Daddy! Give me all your cum!" she cried, grabbing her chest and sticking her tongue out as far as it would reach, drool spilling across her cleavage.

Her doppel fell to its knees in pain, shrieking, clawing at the ropes around her exposed breasts as she took on a fully physical appearance.

"This one's mine," called Salem, summoning a firebolt with a motion of her hands. It struck Ivy's submissive twin in the spine, blasting a hole of smoldering embers straight through her chest. She dropped dead.

Salem laughed with satisfaction--then cried out in pain. Her doppel had closed the distance in her distraction, slashing her across the chest with razor thin claws. She rolled away angrily, still in the fight.

Ivy fell to her knees, hands pressed to the floor. "I didn't want to enjoy that," she whispered. It was a lie.

Only two left now.

Chris's and Salem's.

Chris stared his down, brows furrowed.

The twin smiled at him--softer than the others, patient. Hands out, offering not violence, but understanding. Chris was a ranger. He knew a trap when he saw one.

He took a deep breath. "Alright," he muttered. "I'll play your game."

He lowered his bow. Stepped forward. And dropped to one knee.

"Step on me. Punish me. I've been--a bad boy.," he said quietly.

His doppel's eyes flashed. Then his body. It lunged for the final attack, knowing its trick had failed.

Chris surged up, stringing his bow--and fired point blank.

His twin fell forward with the charging momentum, an arrow protruding from its eye as it hit the ground. Chris was on his feet before the blood had a chance to cool, spinning to find the final foe.

Only Salem's remained. Circling his friend like a shark in the water.

And Salem was bleeding.

She stumbled, hand clamped over her chest. A river of crimson poured over her slender fingers. The slash wasn't deep, but it was angry--three claw marks carved through her coat and into the curve of her breast.

She tried another spell, but the pain distracted her, causing it to fizzle.

"Shit..."

Her doppelganger stood a few paces away, circling slowly. Not pressing the attack--yet. Just watching.

Smiling.

"Ivy," Chris barked, not taking his eyes off the specter. "She's hurt."

Ivy was already moving. "Salem, I'm gonna heal you--don't resist."

"Wasn't planning on it," Salem winced, stepping back, certain of what she had to do but lacking the focus to do it.

Ivy appeared beside her and pressed glowing hands to the torn fabric. Her magic surged warm and golden, sweet and heady like blooming jasmine in summer heat. The moment it touched Salem's skin, her breath caught.

The pain dulled. Then disappeared.

And then...

"Oh," Salem whispered.

The magic soaked through her, deeper than healing. It pulsed into her like honey, thick and heated, curling low in her stomach.

Her thighs tensed. Her eyes dilated. Her panties soaked.

"Ivy," she said shakily, "why does your healing feel like... this?"

"It's... it's just how it works. Always has," Ivy stammered. " I'm sorry--I should've warned..."

Salem gasped, back arching as the last of the pain melted. Her lips parted, and a ragged exhale escaped them like a held breath breaking free.

She flushed--deeply, visibly, aroused.

Her doppelganger took a step forward, tilting her head.

Chris notched an arrow but didn't fire. "Salem?"

Salem's eyes were unfocused, dazed with the last flickers of magical aftershock. She fell softly to her knees. Her voice came quiet, but unmistakably sultry:

"Please... tell me I'm a good girl."

Eric nearly choked.

The specter shrieked, flashing with corporeal light.

Chris fired.

The arrow hit true. Straight through doppel-Salem's open mouth, carving through its throat and out the back of its neck. The body hit the floor with a thud. Dead on impact.

Silence.

Only the faint glow of Ivy's healing magic lingered.

Salem sat upright, blinking as if coming out of a trance. Her lips were still parted.

Eric raised a hand slowly, pointing to her.

"I fucking knew it! That wasn't an act--you were recovering from Ivy's magic. Salem has a praise kink!"

"I will incinerate you," Salem snapped, though her cheeks were still flushed.

Chris, wiping the sweat from his brow, added, "You can both save your flirtation until we're not in a sex dungeon with monster versions of ourselves."

"I wasn't flirting," Eric said with a grin. "I was complimenting."

Chris ignored them, stepping toward Ivy. She was looking down at her doppelganger. What was left of it. The hole in its chest continued to smolder.

"First time causing something's death?" he asked.

Ivy shook her head. "First time causing my own."

The chamber pulsed.

The rose-tinted mirror, cracked and fraying at the edges, let out a long, echoing sigh.

Then it burst into golden mist. Their surroundings shimmered. The air cleared.

They were standing once again in the main chamber. The mirror to their left was restored.

No doppelgangers. No ropes. Just the four of them, breathing hard. Their actual reflections.

Salem stood up carefully, smoothing her coat. "That was disgusting."

"You came," Eric said.

"I did not."

Chris turned to the other wall.

The Submission mirror might be fine, but the Dominance mirror was still glowing--silver bright, etched with violet.

"Get ready," he said flatly.

Eric rubbed his hands together. "We know how this works now. Should we make a plan?"

The mirror pulsed.

"No time," Chris replied. "Get ready. Remember, be dominant."

Take control... or be taken. The voice was an echo in their minds once more.

And they were pulled in again.

~~~

They landed standing, already facing their new opponents: four doppelgangers, clothed in dominant versions of their own forms. All wore leather or silk, and all stood at the ready--heads high, chests heaving.

Chris instinctively notched an arrow--but hesitated. "They're not attacking."

"Yet," Salem said. "They're waiting."

Eric stepped forward and pointed his sword at his own double, who remained still--mouth slightly open in a smirk, eyes burning. The riding crop twitched in his hand.

The real Eric raised a brow. "Alright, let's get this over with."

He grinned.

"Kneel," he said to his twin. "Look at me properly. Now beg, like a good little slut."

His doppelganger trembled, lips parting. He dropped the weapon and fell to his knees. He flashed with shimmering light as he cried in pain.

"That's right, bitch." Eric continued. "Beg for this cock!"

Chris choked.

The shimmer washed over the doppelganger's body, leaving him fully vulnerable to attack.

"Now that's my cue," Eric said.

With a single, fluid motion, he lifted his sword and brought it down in a clean arc--decapitating his doppelganger at the neck. The head rolled to his feet as it hit the floor.

One down. It was almost too easy.

Ivy flinched from the sound of blade cutting through flesh.

She stepped backward, panicked. "I don't think I can do this--"

Her doppelganger approached, slowly, sauntering toward her with hips swaying. The reflection smirked. "Poor little thing. Afraid of her own power? I'm going to punish you!"

Her hand reached toward Ivy's cheek. A clawed hand.

Ivy flinched--then grimaced. She closed her eyes. Glowing light flared at her palms.

"I can do this," she said quietly. "But first, I need to feel it."

She pressed her hands to her own abdomen--and cast a healing spell.

The warm rush of divine energy surged through her body, setting her nerves alight. Her skin flushed, her thighs clenched. A low breath escaped her lips--half-moan, half-focus.

When she opened her eyes again, they burned with heat. Her chest flushed with crimson lust. Her pussy was soaked, her thighs shivering with excitement as the warmth spread between them.

Ivy stepped forward and reached for her doppelganger's throat, pausing just beyond its reach.

"On your knees," she said softly. "And open your mouth like a good little girl."

The doppelganger gasped, eyes wide--and solidified instantly.

Chris fired.

The arrow went straight through her sternum.

Two down.

Across the room, Salem's doppelganger moved--fast. They were on the offensive now.

She darted low, catching Salem off guard, and slammed into her, sending them both rolling. Salem hissed as she hit the floor hard, pain flaring along her side.

Chris was gone--vanished into the shadows.

"Salem!" Ivy called.

"I'm fine!" Salem barked, staggering to her feet. She bled slightly from her lip, one boot heel broken from the fall.

Her doppelganger was already circling her again--grinning, teasing.

"You're not in control," it whispered. "You never were."

Salem spat blood. "Wrong."

She knelt, ran her hand along her boot, whispered a word. A sigil flared--runework along the sole of her boot blazing violet.

"Sit. The fuck. Down." Her voice echoed.

The doppelganger blinked--and froze. Then, with a snarl, she lunged.

"I. Said. Kneel!"

The doppel shrieked in pain, sliding to her knees in front of Salem. Solid. Vulnerable.

Salem gave a push with her heel, forcing her twin onto her back. She pivoted and stomped--boot enhanced with magical force--directly into the doppel's chest.

A sickening crack echoed through the chamber.

Ribs shattered. The doppel exploded into crimson mist as the enchantment surge through her, tearing it apart from within.

Three down.

The last stood alone now: Chris's reflection, eyes darting, body tense.

Chris was gone.

"Where the fuck is he?" Ivy asked.

Salem didn't answer. She just watched. The ranger was doing his thing.

Fucking Gloomstalkers, she thought

The doppelganger turned slowly in a circle, trying to find him, then settling for easier prey. It's eyes centered on Ivy, alone and without a weapon. It circled, keeping a distance.

Then Salem stepped forward, eyes gleaming.

"You like being chased, don't you?" she purred. "You wanna know what we're gonna do when we catch you?"

The doppel froze, staring her down with curiosity. And hunger.

Eric stepped forward, sword low, following her lead. "You've got that look, big guy. Want Salem here to put on her strap and bend you over? Put you in your place?"

Its body shimmered. The suit took on a vibrant hue of navy. Solid.

Chris materialized out of the darkness behind it--silent, lethal.

He held a riding crop. The one discarded by Eric's doppel. He slipped it under his foe's chin. His other arm wrapped around his throat.

"Yield," he whispered.

And then he pulled. Hard. Tight.

The doppelganger thrashed--but too late. He struggled against the restraint, legs kicking wildly as he gasped for air. Seconds passed, but Chris held firm.

With a final gasp, it collapsed in Chris's arms. Dead.

Silence filled the air. The chamber went still.

Eric exhaled, stepping over what remained of his double.

Salem picked up her broken heel with a grunt. She held it to her boot and cast a Mending spell to fix it good as new.

Eric whistled. "Well. I think we all learned something about ourselves today."

"I learned I fucking hate mirrors," Ivy muttered.

Salem looked over her shoulder, arching a brow. "You also learned you can be scary when you're horny."

"I wasn't--!" Ivy stopped herself. "Okay, maybe a little."

The room flashed with arcane light, shunting them back into the main hallway. Both mirrors were normal, displaying only their tired reflections.

Chris looked toward the far wall. A doorway had opened.

"I don't care what comes next," he muttered, "as long as it doesn't try to touch me while saying dirty things."

Eric clapped his shoulder. "No promises."

~~~

The door sealed behind them with a soft click.

Gone was the erotic glow of mirrored trials. Now, a cooler stillness settled over the chamber--like the breathless moment before a ritual began.

The Sanctum of Trust was vast, circular, and open. The walls were seamless obsidian, enchanted to reflect faint silhouettes that shimmered like ghosts. At the far end of the chamber, across a yawning abyss, a single stone pedestal floated above a narrow dais, a golden rune-etched key suspended in its center.

A thin bridge--barely two feet wide--extended into the open space, vanishing into shifting shadows. It wasn't stable. The far end flexed slowly, like it breathed. There were no rails.

Chris stepped forward, slowly, placing his foot on the stone of the walkway. It disappeared beneath his feet. He turned, noticing the pedestal next to him. Had it always been there? He couldn't be sure.

On it lay a single item--a length of black silk.

A blindfold.

Salem folded her arms. "Let me guess: this one's about giving up control."

Eric stepped to the edge and gave a low whistle. "Looks like a trust exercise built by horny sadists."

As if summoned by his words, glowing script lit up in a ring around them, accompanied by a whisper:

Only the blind may see the way. Only the willing may cross. Only the obedient shall unlock the path forward.

"Fun," Ivy muttered. "How do we make it across a shifting maze if we can't see?"

Chris snapped his fingers, testing the echo in the chamber. It was loud. "By being 'obedient' as the voice said. Following directions."

Ivy flushed. "Great. Who's going across?"

Chris folded his arms. "I'll go."

"We need you over here," Eric replied. "You've got the best darkvision. I'll go."

Chris raised his brow. "You've got talent, but it's with song, not dance. You've got two left feet. You'll trip three feet in."

Salem sighed. "You're both useless. But Chris is right. We need that loud, annoying mouth of yours to call directions further out."

She stepped forward and picked up the blindfold.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Feeling bold?"

"No," she said, tightening the silk around her eyes, "I'm feeling competent. Plus, I can cast Featherfall on myself if something happens."

A pulse of light moved through the bridge.

It shimmered--then shifted. The far side rotated. A piece retracted. The path was alive.

"Alright," Salem said through clenched teeth, taking a careful step forward. "Just tell me where to go."

"You're about three paces from the bridge," Chris said. He put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the first platform. She stepped forward, slowly, walking carefully the first few steps.

"To the left," Ivy added. "Slightly."

Salem obeyed. Blindfolded, she moved slowly, arms out slightly for balance. Her boots clacked softly on the obsidian.

A breeze moved across her collarbone.

Then--drip.

"Ah--fuck!" Salem gasped, staggering a half-step as something hot landed directly on the center of her cleavage.

A drop of liquid wax. The scent of hot vanilla followed.

"Trap!" Ivy called.

"I noticed," Salem snapped, chest rising sharply.

Eric snorted. "It's just a little wax. Looks great from this angle."

"Say one more word and I swear I'll walk off this bridge."

Chris cleared his throat. "You're on a narrow curve now. Half a step to your right, and you'll fall into a pit."

"Love that for me," Salem muttered.

As she walked, hidden runes on her blindfold shimmered. A pulse of soft magic ran through her body--and down between her thighs.

Salem stopped. Shivered. "... That's new."

"You stepped into a pleasure rune," Ivy warned, spotting the telltale glow at Salem's feet. "Move forward one pace and it'll stop."

Salem obeyed, biting back a moan as she crossed out of the rune's radius. "This temple has a very specific, sadistic sense of humor," she said.

"I think it just likes you," Eric said brightly.

She kept walking, careful and precise. The others continued to call directions to her.

"The bridge just shifted, ten paces ahead of you," called Eric.

"Two steps forward, then a hard right," said Chris.

Salem obeyed, trusting their keen eyesight and her delicate elven ears. Her boots clicked against the obsidian. Slow. Steady.

"Good girl," called Eric, grinning. "Now, three steps, then it starts to curve back left. Take it nice and easy..."

"Eric, if I die because you have to be a flirt, I'm going to haunt you."

A warm breeze drifted up again--followed by another drip. More wax, steaming hot. This one landed just above her bra line, cooling slowly against her skin as it ran along the curve of her breast.

"Gods--unholy fuck--" Salem hissed, staggering again. Her heel came down just an inch from the edge.

"Language," Ivy muttered. They all turned to glare at her--even Salem through her blindfold. Ivy blushed and looked away.

"Alright," Eric muttered. "That one looked like it sizzled, but you're still doing okay. You barely flinched."

Salem could hear the concern in his voice. She must have come close to falling. She didn't let it fluster her, time to keep moving before more wax hit her.

"She's close to the midpoint," Ivy said. "The bridge is narrowing."

It shifted again, this time adding a bar of solid obsidian at chest height. Salem slowly moved toward it, unaware.

"You'll need to crouch," Chris added. "New obstacle, a crossbar. Use it for support if you have to."

Salem lowered herself with care, breathing heavily.

Her flushed skin shone faintly with sweat now. Her lips parted. And when she spoke, her voice was soft.

"Keep talking," she said. "Talk me through it. Tell me I'm doing it right."

Chris and Eric exchanged a glance.

"Praise kink," Eric whispered.

"I heard that," Salem muttered, her elven ears twitching.

Ivy cleared her throat. "You're doing great. Just a few more steps. You're being very... obedient." Salem's breath hitched. And then she kept walking.

She moved slowly, her wrists held close to her chest for balance and protection, her thighs brushing with each step. Every few seconds, the floor hummed beneath her boots--subtle pulses of slowing magic designed to keep her from rushing, from reacting on instinct.

From trusting herself.

And so she didn't.

She listened.

Ivy's voice was her anchor. Calm. Gentle. "Step left. One more. Good... now forward again."

Chris watched with arms crossed, silent and observant, chiming in when he spotted something they didn't.

"Rune two steps ahead, another pleasure glyph. Brace yourself."

Salem nodded, feeling the warmth rush through her again, soaking her panties as she bit back another moan. She didn't stagger this time, but her thighs were starting to feel weak. She held steading, letting go of a moan so she could keep her focus on standing firm. It echoed softly in the darkness.

Eric leaned on the pedestal beside him, lips curled into a smirk. "This might be the hottest thing we've seen all day."

"Don't distract her," Ivy snapped.

Salem stumbled as another drip of candle wax landed squarely on the top curve of her chest--right between her collarbones. Its aim was uncanny--and inconvenient.

She gasped again--sharper this time.

"I'm starting to think this damn trial is learning my limits," she muttered.

"You're past the worst of it," Ivy said. "Two more meters."

"Then what?"

"There's a pedestal. You need to reach it and get the key."

Salem took another step--then faltered.

A low vibration spread through her boots--another rune, humming with magic. It worked up her calves, slow and shivering, blooming between her legs in an electric throb.

She whined--low and strangled.

Chris cleared his throat. "Get out of that rune zone. One more step forward, do it now."

She obeyed--practically lunging the step. As she did, the bridge shifted again, realigning with a low grinding sound. She froze. The motion had pushed her weight sideways--arms out to catch herself.

"Salem?" Ivy called, panicked.

"Still here," she hissed. "Still vertical."

"Okay. Just three more steps. Slow."

She obeyed, breath catching with every pace.

Then her boot tapped stone. Rough, not smooth. The obsidian bridge gave way to the landing beyond.

The pedestal.

Her blind hands found its edge. Cool. Smooth. The magic flared at her touch, and in an instant the blindfold disappeared from her pretty face. She could see again.

A ring of magical script glowed around the pedestal base. Above it, a key, gold and glowing, floating in an arcane tether.

Salem stood silently for a moment, head bowed, heart racing, skin glistening. She reached for the key, but her hand sizzled against a magical barrier. She pulled it back with a wince, shaking away the pain.

"Salem," Ivy prompted, voice softer. "You need to say something"

Salem searched for clues, but found none.

"I don't know what to say."

"Something obedient," Chris offered.

"Tell the temple what it needs to hear," Eric added. "You've done everything right. You've followed every order. You've been... you know."

Salem inhaled sharply. Then--quietly, reverently--she whispered:

"Please... tell me I'm a good girl."

The pedestal flared with light.

The bridge shimmered and expanded--turning into a solid path back to the others.

The key, glowing with runes, rose from the pedestal and floated gently into her open hand.

Salem turned, lavender hair clinging to her damp neck, flushed, blinking in the new clarity of sight. Slowly, she picked at the hardened wax against her chest, pulling it out of her cleavage in chunks.

Eric let out a low whistle. "Damn," he said. "The mirror didn't break you, but this? This made you bloom."

"Don't," she warned.

He raised his hands. "Not saying a word."

Chris gave her a short nod. "Nicely done. I knew you could do it."

Salem nodded back. But it was Ivy's words that made her pause:

"You really were a good girl."

Salem's breath caught again. She said nothing. But the smile that tugged at her lips as she stepped down from the bridge?

That said everything.

~~~

The door opened with a whisper, and the sanctum beyond stretched into impossible silence. Salem kept the key in the pocket of her robe. It hadn't been needed for this door, which meant it would likely be useful later. They stepped into the next chamber.

It was a temple in form, but nothing like the others they'd seen. The ceiling arched in a high, perfect dome, every inch carved with constellations shaped like chains. Floating candles burned with lavender flame, casting flickering light across obsidian pillars etched in silver runes.

And at the far end stood a towering statue--ten feet tall, sculpted in perfect balance between masculine and feminine. Its limbs were elegantly muscled, its robe half-fallen from its body in stone folds. Chains wrapped its chest, throat, thighs. Its face was calm--but its eyes were knowing.

At its feet, the air shimmered with divine energy.

Suspended in midair throughout the room were floating chains, dozens of them, unmoving but twitching slightly--as if listening.

Eric's voice was a whisper. "I don't like this."

A chain jerked in his direction, stopping only when the silence resumed.

Salem shot him a glare. "Don't talk. Not even a little," she mouthed.

Even her breath felt too loud.

They moved forward in a slow line, steps deliberate. The seal on the floor--a great arcane circle--whispered underfoot with every step. It felt like walking on a heartbeat. Every footfall was deliberate. Careful. Quiet.

Then it happened.

A pulse of warmth radiated from the statue--hitting them like invisible fire.

Their breath caught. The arousal swelled in each of them.

Salem gripped her thigh and closed her eyes. Her panties were uncomfortably wet by now.

Chris exhaled through his nose, face blank but taut. His erection was visible through the folds of his cloak, but he maintained composure.

Eric covered his mouth, the quietest he'd ever been. The throbbing in his pants was unbearable.

Ivy whimpered softly, almost too quiet to notice.

The chains above them twitched.

They recovered slowly, stepping forward a few paces before it hit again. Another wave. Stronger.

Their bodies ached with sudden heat--arousal blooming in stomachs and thighs, curling low and electric.

Ivy stumbled.

"I..." she started to speak--but her voice trembled into a moan.

And that was enough.

With a whiplike snap, three chains lashed out of the air, seizing her wrists and ankles midstep.

Salem reached for her--but too late.

Ivy was lifted, screaming as the chains coiled around her limbs and yanked her high above the floor.

Her robe ripped at the seams.

More chains slithered up her legs, along her thighs, around her waist. Constricting her body like snakes.

They tore the fabric clean, letting it drop to the floor below, leaving her flushed, naked, and suspended above the party--glowing slightly in the candlelight, her curves shining with a sheen of panic and sweat.

Her hair trailed behind her like a banner. Her nipples were black against the pink flesh of her breasts. Chains slid between them. Between her thighs. Grinding against her folds, the cold steel shining in the candlelight from her juices.

Another wave of sexual energy pulsed through the room--and she moaned again, unable to help it, her body arching in reflex.

"Ivy!" Chris barked, eyes scanning the air for a target. A chain whipped toward him, and he rolled silently away as it struck the polished floor. A lucky dodge, one he likely wouldn't get a second time.

"I'm okay," she gasped. "Don't--don't speak!"

Too late.

The wave of pleasure washed over Salem. Her mouth parted silently, the moan stifled, but her legs were still weak from the previous chamber. She collapsed to the floor with a soft thud.

Another chain cracked through the air.

Eric turned to her, eyes full of terror as he watched her be taken.

Salem vanished in a flash of motion, a scream catching in her throat as she was dragged upward, writhing.

Chains wrapped her torso, her thighs, pulling her arms behind her. Cutting through the silk of her robe.

"Oh, fuck," Eric mouthed.

And the next wave hit.

He stumbled--one hand over his crotch, trying to adjust himself. "Gods, not now--not now--"

He buckled with a whine, groaned--and came.

And the chains were on him, lifting him up mid-spasm. His trousers were stained. The scent was unmistakable.

"Dammit," he panted. "That one doesn't count--"

Chris remained alone.

He stood still as stone, watching them twist and wriggle above him--struggling, flushed, eyes full of helpless heat. Salem's robe fell away, the chains now pulling away her panties as she writhed in their grasp. Eric's pants fell away next.

Ivy was fully nude, the only thing covering her were the chains stretched tight across her body. One continued to slide between her thighs, her gasps and moans filling the chamber with the sounds of struggle and bliss. She'd die up there if Chris didn't figure this out.

He didn't move.

The waves hit him too, but he gritted his teeth, boots planted.

Not until the chains around Salem flared red--sparking with electricity.

She screamed. Punished for refusing to give in. For refusing to obey.

That was what broke him.

"Let her go!" he roared, rushing forward. He was so close to the statue. Just a quick sprint and he'd be there, he could make it--

Then the chains seized him too.

He thrashed--fought--but they lifted him high, bound his arms tight behind his back, and suspended him alongside the others. His cloak came free. Then his shirt.

Soon, Chris was trapped with the others. Fully bound. Fully naked. Fully helpless.

Ivy came, her orgasm sending echoes of pleasure throughout the chamber. Nobody reacted, but it gave her a brief moment of clarity as she caught her breath, attempting to recover before the chains resumed their torture.

Her friends, straining in midair. Their clothes torn away, their moans barely contained. Magic writhing through their bodies like vines. Shocks of lighting when they resisted.

She looked toward the statue.

And she understood.

Suspended in a halo of magic and iron, Ivy hung above the glowing seal, heart pounding.

The others writhed in silence beside her, each bound in floating chains. Salem's chest heaved with effort, teeth clenched around ragged breath. Eric had gone limp with aftershock, panting, a glint of cold metal wrapped around his balls. Chris struggled silently--rage in his glare, fists clenching each time the electricity sparked through Salem's chains.

But only Ivy was untouched by pain. She'd put up little resistance, surrendering control, her body, the moment she'd been captured.

She wasn't made for this. She wanted to be a good cleric. Holy. Pure.

But she wasn't fooling anyone. Perhaps it was the Velvet Thorn, with their certain brand of worship. Perhaps it was just--her.

Either way, she could feel the magic inside her. Divine. Sensual. It wasn't born of innocence.

Ivy closed her eyes, and whispered to herself in the sea of moans. "If you can hear me, please, I could use a miracle."

A new pulse radiated from the statue--slower this time, focused. And then, without movement, without words...

A voice echoed in her mind.

You called to your god. And I answered.

Ivy's breath caught. Her thighs tensed in their bonds.

"You're... Vesperis," she whispered aloud. "Master of Chains."

I am not the one who marked you first, the voice said. But I am watching. And you shine, little thorn. Your soul trembles between obedience and power. You seek your purpose... and I can offer it.

"I thought you were my sponsor," she said, disappointed.

I am not. I can be. I walk in the same... domain. I will share, if you take the vow.

Ivy frowned. She'd been so hopeful. But ultimately, she knew Vesperis wasn't her diety. They'd been so silent for so long. He hadn't shut up since they stepped foot in the dungeon, echoing in their minds with every challenge.

But if Vesperis wasn't the one granting her magic--who was it?

Around her, the chains pulsed gently--stroking her wrists, hips, breasts. Her thighs were damp with sweat and cum, and the chains were still twisting and winding their way along her folds.

The others floated--writhing, moaning, unable to speak.

Ivy shivered. "And what does the vow cost?"

A single truth: that your submission can be strength. That your surrender... is your power.

She swallowed hard.

Her thighs ached with unsatisfied tension. Her magic pulsed beneath her skin, agitated. Her nipples peaked in the cool air. Every part of her body trembled with arousal and fear--and hunger.

"Will you let them go?" she asked. "Will you lift the curse?"

Yes. I will free them. And you will walk from this place as my disciple. I will call, and you will answer.

She hesitated. Then nodded.

"I submit."

The chains tightened--not cruelly, but in ceremony. They pulled her taut, suspended in a perfect arc, her body bared and glowing in the flickering candlelight.

Her magic surged.

Not in defense--but in welcome.

Divine symbols burned along her skin--tracing her ribs, her hips, her inner thighs. The trickle of arousal glowed against the light.

The voice grew softer.

You are mine now.

Pleasure erupted from her core--not from touch, but from acceptance. Every nerve lit with the brilliance of divine heat. Her spine arched. Her breath hitched.

And she came again--gloriously, silently--head tipped back, eyes rolled to heaven.

The chamber pulsed. The chains released her.

And then, one by one, her companions fell gently to the ground, breathless but whole.

The seal dimmed. The magic quieted. The statue's eyes closed.

And at the end of the chamber, a door was revealed. Thick, gilded, and with the promise of treasure on the other side. A glow of amber light spread from the keyhole.

~~~

Ivy lay cradled in the circle's center, chest rising slowly, covered now in silvery glyphs that shimmered like dew.

Salem crawled to her, fingers brushing her arm. "Ivy?"

She opened her eyes--calm. Changed.

"I'm alright."

Eric groaned somewhere behind them. "Speak for yourself. I think I just had a religious experience. In my pants."

Chris sat up, grim but alert. "Is it over? We're done?"

Ivy nodded.

Salem smirked faintly. "No thanks to us. I gotta admit--that could have gone much better."

"So... what now?" asked Eric, standing to stretch, ignoring his own nudity.

Ivy looked toward the statue, then down at herself. And smiled.

"Now," she said, "we see what kind of miracles the Master of Chains has in store for me... and what kind of loot he has behind that door. Salem--still got that key?"

~~~

The door to the Midnight Maw swung open with a groan and a gust of mountain wind--and the tavern's din immediately quieted.

Annabelle looked up from her post behind the bar, a fresh mug of ale halfway to the tap, as four half-dressed, half-wrecked adventurers stumbled in.

Their clothes were torn, scorched, or half-missing. Ivy's robe hung in tatters from one shoulder. Salem's coat was singed at the hem and split up one thigh. Eric's shirt was basically a scarf, and Chris's cloak had more gashes than fabric.

They were glowing. Sweaty. Exhausted.

And smiling.

"Don't ask," Chris said, brushing past a stunned dwarven merchant who'd frozen mid-drink.

"We cleansed a temple," Eric added, limping slightly.

"A very horny temple," Ivy muttered, cheeks still pink.

Annabelle blinked. "... I'll pour four."

They slid into their usual booth--leather seats cracked and welcoming as ever--and collapsed into the cushions like survivors of a gentle apocalypse.

"Anything good?" Annabelle asked, setting down a tray of drinks.

Salem pulled a small box from her bag, set it on the table, and popped it open.

Inside sat a single silver ring, carved with fine arcane runes that shimmered pale blue in the candlelight.

"Shadow Step," Chris said, eyeing it. "Short-range teleport. Incredibly useful."

"I already have it," Salem said.

"So do I," Chris nodded.

Eric shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'd probably shadow step into a tree."

All eyes turned to Ivy.

She blinked. "Oh. Me?"

"You'll be able to escape any sticky situation," Salem said, grinning.

Eric wiggled his eyebrows. "And given your new patron, I'm guessing sticky situations are... common."

Ivy flushed, took the ring, and slipped it on. "Thanks."

The moment hung warm--close.

Then, yawns broke the mood like clockwork.

They pushed up from the booth with the slow shuffle of the over-satisfied.

Upstairs, at the landing outside their room, Salem paused near Eric.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey... about earlier. With the whole praise thing. I'm sorry if I took it too far."

Salem looked at him a moment.

Then she leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Idiot," she murmured, smiling. "Thanks."

He touched the spot as she walked away. Waited until she was out of sight.

Then whispered, "Good girl."

~~~

The room was dim and quiet, save for the gentle creak of the wooden floorboards and the soft scratch of ivy's quill as she noted the spell's mechanics in her journal--halfheartedly, distractedly. Her pack lay discarded by the foot of the bed. The silver ring pulsed faintly on her finger, reacting to her proximity like a heartbeat.

She was exhausted.

Her skin still tingled from the marks of divine magic. Though the glowing sigils had faded from her body, the memory of their presence lingered--along her thighs, between her breasts, on the back of her neck. Ghostly touches that shouldn't feel as pleasant as they did.

Ivy let her robe fall to the floor and crawled beneath the sheets, letting out a long, content sigh as her body finally relaxed into the mattress.

She closed her eyes--and remembered.

The heat of the chains around her wrists.

The strength it had taken to say yes.

The ache that bloomed from being watched. Owned. Claimed.

Vesperis had given her power. And in return, she had given him trust.

But as her mind drifted toward sleep, a different warmth stirred behind her eyelids.

Not heavy or pulsing like before.

This one was cool.

Older.

Waiting.

Her skin prickled as a strange presence slipped through the space between her thoughts. Not invasive, but intimate. Curious. It pressed gently against her awareness like fingers through water.

Her breath caught.

It wasn't Vesperis.

I see you, little one, a voice whispered--not aloud, but deep, behind her heartbeat. You've tasted one chain. But you were always mine first.

Ivy's eyes fluttered open. She bolted upright.

The shadows in the corner of the room didn't shift--but they watched.

And something deep in her soul answered.