A Devil's Bride
Chapter 7: First Blood
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 7: First Blood - Orpheia, a rare, visually tantalizing creature, has ensnared the attention of a tyrant king whose bloodline is responsible for the slaughtering of Orpheia’s people. Forced to choose between marrying the king and losing the lives of her beloved people, Orpheia calls upon the power of Hell to gain the upper hand. Inspired by Frankenstein, Carmilla, and all things Halloween, this gothic novel is sure to satiate those who crave brutal, bloody romance.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Hypnosis NonConsensual Romantic Lesbian Shemale Paranormal Ghost Magic Demons Humiliation Light Bond Size Caution Halloween Royalty
Orpheia sat straight up in bed with a gasp. Her heart raced with heavy throbs. She immediately jumped to her feet to examine her floor, which she found to be spotless. Her own nightgown, which had suffered greatly in the bloodshed, hung off of her body in pristine quality. Orpheia ran to the large brass mirror propped against the corner of her room, where she found no blood on her cheeks, neck, or breasts. The bruises still remained, all but the ones she received from Quinta’s hand and the bedside table.
“It really was ... just a dream,” Orpheia whispered to herself.
Yet why did she feel so ill? Her body was a wreck with stress and pain. She curled back up in bed, clutching her belly in hopes of sleeping the agony away. Yet when she woke again merely an hour later, the pain not only remained, but had worsened. Orpheia attempted one final time to doze her agony back into a dream, but she was interrupted by two maids who greeted her with a sudden, violent awakening as they ripped open her bed’s curtains. The balcony doors were opened as well, inviting golden sunlight to pour in. Orpheia’s skin shriveled up beneath the unwelcome intrusion. She tried burying herself deeper beneath her covers, but the maids were quick to tear those away, too.
“Much to be done,” the gap-toothed maid snarled, grabbing Orpheia by the wrist.
The other, Jeth the snake woman, glared Orpheia down as she folded the sheets out of Orpheia’s reach. The large brass key belonging to the bedchamber doors hung off of her neck, leaving Orpheia still in fear. Had Vita not been given that key? Why did she no longer have it?
“Have her bathed and fed before her first tutor arrives,” Lucilia said to the other maid. “Much to do today. So best carry on.”
There is always much to be done. Never a moment to stop and ask questions. Orpheia opened her mouth to ask what became of Quinta, but she was already being tugged out into the baths before she could make a single sound.
“You’re hurting me,” Orpheia snapped at the gap-toothed maid.
“Hush up!” The maid snarled back, whistling as she spoke.
Orpheia was thrown through the doorway into her bath, where she found the other maids had slipped in during her sleep to prepare. She was startled to catch a whiff of the flowers’ intoxicating scent. Where they got the blooms from on such short notice, Orpheia did not know. The maids awaiting her were dressed in long white gowns made of hundreds of layers of pristine chiffon. Matching veils draped their faces, obscuring their identities and making them appear like pillars of breathing sea foam, sprung up from the ocean. When the women moved, their silhouettes remained completely hidden beneath the wild waves of the fabric’s constant flow. Orpheia had seen similar uniforms the day before as she was trekked through the palace. They were made to create an illusion of privacy. But for Orpheia, such a mirage only heightened her nerves.
Hands sprang out from beneath the curtained sleeves and grabbed a firm grip around Orpheia’s arms. The maids twisted her skin until she seethed with curses and pulled her back and forth as though they desired her limbs to pop out of their sockets. Hushed snickers and whispered jabs slipped out from beneath the white drapes. They filled Orpheia’s head like the sound of distant thunder, echoing beneath the drawl of a windstorm. She refused to put up a fight against them, no matter how hard she would have liked to, but she found herself too disoriented to so much as speak. Her mind was still a blur from the night before. She averted her eyes from the tiled walls, for there were eyes hidden in the flourished pattern. They blinked with anticipation, watching Orpheia’s chest heave in and out with her every breath.
A leg stuck out crookedly in Orpheia’s path as she yanked herself free from the maids’ grip. Her ankle twisted around it and sent her tumbling face-first onto the floor. Her nose cracked against the floor. Blood poured down her face and stained the white marble with an intoxicating shade of red. The maids—all but two—howled with laughter. A certain accented voice was missing from the thrall of laughter. There was a maid absent, as there were only five ghosts.
Orpheia turned to face the woman who had tripped her, surprised to find that she had removed her veil to better glare down at the bleeding spectre. This maid was the shortest of the bunch, with a stocky frame and an unwelcome face. She was previously one of Meyrick’s own, a woman by the name of Lucilia who had tormented Orpheia amidst her journey. Orpheia’s heart jerked with an unconscious knowing. This woman had the same accent that Vita did, only hers had been watered down long ago after spending so much of her life in the palace. The two women also shared the same freckles and the same soft hazel eyes.
“Tha’s what you get,” Lucilia snarled. She spat at the ground between her and Orpheia. “Scarin’ my poor Vita off the way ye did.”
Orpheia furrowed her brow. Her heart pounded heavier against her chest until she could hardly breathe without struggle. She turned to the maids in confusion, but found only ghosts staring back at her. They no longer laughed.
Orpheia shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Ye know damned well what ye did!” Lucilia cried, stamping her foot into the ground. Orpheia stumbled back from the blow. She attempted to scramble to her feet, but three of the maids caught her by the shoulders and the neck. They forced her to remain kneeling. Lucilia towered over the spectre, glaring through narrowed eyes. “I’ll find out what ye did t’ make her run for the hills, yes I will. Cause her to leave her poor mum behind without so much as a note.”
Orpheia’s body crumbled beneath her. Her lungs deflated. Her heart erupted. The persistent pain in her belly throbbed harder and harder. Tears welled up in Orpheia’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
“I do not know what happened to your daughter,” Orpheia began, speaking slowly.
“Don’t lie!” Lucilia roared. A sob began tangled up in her throat. The fifth maid, Jeth, who had also removed her veil, came to Lucilia’s aid and rested a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Lucilia brushed her away. “It’s not like her,” the maid said quietly; her tone revealing a startling softness.
Jeth nodded. “She’s just gone back home, dear.”
“She’s wanted this job since she was a lit’le girl.” Lucilia drew in a slow breath, then turned back to Orpheia. Hatred boiled in her eyes. She threw an accusatory finger in Orpheia’s face and said, “This witch has done something to her. Cursed her. Killed her! I say we make her pay for this!”
“She’ll pay enough,” Jeth snarled. “She’s to be queen to our darling Meyrick, after all.”
Orpheia snapped her teeth back at the wretched woman.
Lucilia shook her head. “No. I say we keep this beast from the throne altogether. Ruin her. I want the king to peel off her skin and feed it down her throat. My Vita would not have simply run off in the dead of night. I know that something horrible has happened to her, and it’s this bitch’s fault!” Lucilia whipped her head to the three maids, her mouth twisted up into a toad-like grimace. “I want her innocence shredded on this very floor. Rape her with your fists if you must. She needs to pay for this.”
“No!” Orpheia shrieked. She ripped herself from the maid’s fists, leaving behind finger-sized bruises covering her arms. Beneath her nightgown’s sleeves, her skin was almost completely black. It ached at the gentlest of touches. Even the draft of the large room around her bit into Orpheia’s skin.
The three young maids pounced onto Orpheia’s backside, shoving her into the ground. One held her knee against the small of Orpheia’s back. Her bones shoved deep inside of Orpheia’s body, irritating her throbbing womb. The other two clucked like hungry chickens as they scrambled to spread open her thighs. No matter how hard Orpheia struggled or how loudly she screamed, the women were much too strong to be stopped. Their wolven teeth chattered with lustful delights. The sound of their laughter layered over itself, louder and louder, until Orpheia was drowning in the morbid symphony.
Fingers clawed deep into her skin. A tongue lapped up Orpheia’s folds of sensitive flesh. Drips of saliva cooled her. Nails buried deeper. Blood pooled to the surface.
Laughter. Sobs.
Two fingers belonging to two separate hands hooked inside of her. The cavern opened. A tongue crawled inside of her. It wriggled like a newt, teasing the entrance of the spectre’s rosy sex.
Flesh. Blood. Cum. The tongue inside. Teeth on her lips. Fingers in her folds.
A scream. Not her own.
The pain stilled, and Orpheia’s body began to relax.
“Unclean!” a woman shrieked.
The three white-robed lizards scrambled back on all fours. Their long, blood-stained nails clattered against the ground. Orpheia’s mouth hung open in shock. Off of her face, blood dripped down her lips and trickled into her throat. Yet between her thighs, it poured off of her lips and onto the floor.
The source of her terrible pain was discovered.
“Her moon’s curse?” Meyrick asked grimly. “At a time like this?”
Father Grimshaw wiped his bloody fingers on a wet rag with a scowl. “It seems your bride is fervently defiant, down to her womanly anatomy.”
“I didn’t summon my blood, if that is what you are implying,” Orpheia retorted. She slowly brought herself up to sit, but Meyrick forced her back down onto her bedsheets. Her head bucked—thoughts trapped inside a nonstop whirlwind until her vision blurred with a black haze. She waited until her cheeks no longer felt numb before breathing again.
Meyrick took a moment to examine her sex with his own eyes, careful not to touch her blood. Orpheia was keenly aware that he was basking in the scent of her pussy. She could feel his hungry breath against her skin. She shuddered. Memories of teeth and tongues between her thighs ran circles in her head. She pursed her lips to keep from crying.
“How long will it be before I can bed her at this rate?” Meyrick asked the priest.
Father Grimshaw tightened his jaw and stared back into Orpheia’s gaze. For once, he was posed with a question that he did not have an answer to.
“I am well connected to the moon,” Orpheia responded. She pulled herself back slightly, inching far enough away to yank Meyrick out of his pheromone-laced trance. “My cycles last a fortnight.”
Father Grimshaw scoffed, appalled. “A fortnight! That is twice as long as any mortal woman! How utterly vile! Your Highness, this beast is tainted. You ought not even be in the same room as her. Moon-cursed women are to be sequestered and bathed in the sunlight of Sol until their sin dries up. They mustn’t exist in the presence of any non-holy men.”
“Is that why my maids ran from me as if I were laced with fire?” Orpheia asked.
“It’s a superstition,” Meyrick said. He massaged the back of his neck with a dreary sigh. “Terrsolis women believe the moon curse is spreadable via touch. And being that you are a spectre ... Well, the curse is much more potent.”
“They have all been locked in the basilica’s catacombs, thanks to you,” Father Grimshaw snapped. “All but Lucilia and Jeth, who were lucky enough not to touch your blood.”
“Well, what will happen to Lucilia now? That wretched maid is the whole reason those women are even down there! She was the one who ordered they rape my innocence away!” Orpheia, having inched far enough from Meyrick’s reach, finally brought herself to sit upright. She punctuated her fury by snapping her legs shut.
Meyrick’s gaze suddenly lost its delighted glint. No longer did Orpheia’s nearly nude body excite him. Instead, he turned to Father Grimshaw and raised his brow with an air of uncertainty. Father Grimshaw’s frown deepened.
“The maid claims you cursed her daughter,” the priest spoke. His tone was severe, devoid of its usual righteous fervor.
Orpheia scoffed, feigning offense. “A blatant lie. To think that you would fall for it so easily.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Father Grimshaw muttered beneath his breath.
Both Orpheia and Meyrick’s heads snapped to face the priest. He averted only his king’s gaze. But before Orpheia could ask what Father Grimshaw meant by this, Meyrick cut her off with a sudden, startling noise somewhere between clearing his throat and exorcising a demon.
“That hardly matters now,” Meyrick blurted out. He was making a big show of not looking at Orpheia. Her stomach twisted with newfound questions.
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