Dungeon Mistress II
Copyright© 2026 by JayFriday
Chapter 4: The Marks of the Sun
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Marks of the Sun - The sequel series to Dungeon Mistress! Read that first. The D&D group's relationships are now fractured. Maybe Liz's campaign is an opportunity to grow something new -- or maybe it's just another playground for dominance, sexual tension, and desire. Can the Children of the Sun can renew their relationships, or will they just repeat the patterns of their past?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Blackmail Coercion Consensual Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Sharing DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial White Male White Female Indian Female Exhibitionism Facial Massage Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Big Breasts Geeks Revenge
“Do you want a Truth, or a Blessing?”
Erin’s words hung in the air for a minute as I studied her, considering it.
I wanted a Truth. Wanted her to drop the act and tell me what the fuck she and Liz were playing at. She was asking the question the way that the Seraph of Secrets would -- cloying, teasing -- not the way that Erin would.
She was back in character.
And re-reading that description of the Seraph of Secrets gave me even more hesitations. I’d hoped that her being here, us having sex, had ... I don’t know, reset things somehow, between us.
Instead, I felt more reserved, wary. I’d just admitted to Erin that Monica had given me a handjob ... and she’d responded by fucking me. Hadn’t seemed upset about it, or jealous, or anything.
It left me feeling a bit ... empty.
This was all too reminiscent of their secret admirer emails.
I imagined that what Erin was expecting me to ask for was a Truth. Feeling a little petulant, I decided I wasn’t going to do what she expected.
“A Blessing,” I said, tersely.
If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it; Erin just smiled, her attractive features still flushed from our encounter.
“Very well.” She felt her way over to Liz’s bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled out a handful of cards. She blindly selected one, and held it out for me. “One Blessing.”
I pulled the card from her fingers a little harder than I intended in my frustration. It was cardstock, with a glossy finish. One side was all white and gold whorls. The other side had a few simple lines of text on it.
Dreamwalker{br}
Asleep, we reveal secrets we would never admit while awake, and those who win the Seraph’s favor can walk among them, learning things they otherwise wouldn’t.
Turn this card in to eavesdrop on someone else’s dreams.
It was a new, single-use special ability. Well... kind of. Given how the game was going already, I could imagine that it would let me sit in on somebody else’s dream scene.
I blinked, and tried to meet Erin’s eyes -- but the blindfold made it impossible. Her head was trained in my direction anyway, like she was watching me.
After a moment, she spoke again. “Our meeting is concluded, then, Cazimir.”
“Uh ... really?” I felt a flash of anger; I was tempted just to walk out. But I paused, and decided to give it one try. “Erin, what’s going on here? What are you and Liz doing?”
There was a long pause. When she responded, her voice was regretful. “Ask for a Truth, next time, if the Truth is what you seek. I’ll see you again very soon. Be sure to bring more secrets.”
I opened my mouth, about to ask a frustrated question. Don’t you want to talk? Don’t you want to hash this out? Don’t you care?
But wasn’t her behavior already an answer? Whatever they were up to, Erin wasn’t going to help me figure anything out.
I stood up, feeling disappointed.
“Bye, Seraph. ‘Till we meet again.”
I tried to tamp down my disappointment as I walked back downstairs. I expected to field some questions from the whole gang, or at least some suspicious looks.
But the whole gang wasn’t there.
Instead, it was just Monica in the living room. She was scrolling on her phone, but looked up as I came down the stairs, setting her phone aside.
She raised one eyebrow at me. “Needed a little time to recover, huh?”
“Uh, what?”
She gave me a challenging smile. “Come on, don’t play dumb. You and Liz go upstairs. She comes back down not even two minutes later. But you stayed up there. I bet you made a big mess in no time and then had to stay up there and get cleaned up. You’re so predictable. It’s just like when I was running the game.”
I blinked. Of course. She didn’t know about Erin. The Seraph of Secrets costume had been fitted for Liz; Monica had been expecting Liz to be the one to where it. She thought Liz had taken me upstairs, finished me quickly.
I wasn’t about to tell her what had actually happened, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I opted for just responding to the dig at my my sexual prowess. “Oh, shut up, Monica.”
That didn’t faze her in the slightest; if anything, she seemed to take it as confirmation that she was on target with the comment. “I figured the outfit would show off Liz’s ass nicely. You liked it, huh? Did you even make it inside her, or did you cream your pants for the Seraph of Secrets before that could happen?”
She was giving me an up-down, clearly inspecting the costume for stains or some kind of evidence that I’d had to clean up.
I couldn’t help an amused smile at how off-the-mark she was, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth -- I hadn’t figured out how I wanted to handle whatever Liz and Erin were up to, but I wasn’t about to let Monica in on what had just happened. So I just shook my head. “That’s not how it went. Why do you care?”
She frowned, clearly irritated, but kept her voice nonchalant. “Wow, it must’ve been really embarrassing if you won’t even tell me.”
I considered her annoyed demeanor, and something dawned on me. Did the idea of Liz and I together upset her? “ ... You’re not jealous, are you, Monica?”
She stood up. Moved around the coffee table and planted herself right in front of me, looked up at me.
Uh oh. She looked well and truly pissed off.
“Oh please. You keep raising that. But do I seem like the jealous type, Chris? I ran a campaign that was basically a sexual playground for you and your friends.”
It was a good point. Maybe I had misread her irritation. And, regardless of whether I had or not, the realization that I’d been treating Monica like some kind of one-dimensional campaign bad guy had startled to settle in to an ongoing sense of guilt. “Hey, sor-”
“I don’t care if you went upstairs, bent Liz over, shoved your big dick inside her, and fucked her to a screaming orgasm.” Her voice had gone dark, a little savage.
That compelling image, those filthy words coming out of Monica’s mouth, were both unexpected and arousing.
She stood up on her tiptoes, getting right in my face. “I don’t even care if Liz has you wrapped around her little finger so tight that your cock popped the moment you saw her ass in that outfit.”
I swallowed, hard. The lipstick for her cleric, Maye, was an almost-golden amber, and it stood out, bright and fiery, against her dark hair and otherwise pale features.
And Monica’s mouth kept moving, the words intense, bitter. “What I do mind -- what I don’t like at all -- is how you’re treating me. First I’m the scapegoat for all the issues in your little friend group. And now you’ve got this bullshit, smug sense of superiority about you, like you know something I don’t.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I-it’s just...” I trailed off, shrugging helplessly.
This whole situation was hopelessly confusing. I saw her point. And I was less angry at Monica now that I knew Erin was actually playing; that had redirected some of my frustration to Erin and Liz.
But it was still Monica. I wasn’t about to confide in her that I thought Liz and Erin were up to something.
Monica shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever. I bet you blame me for how fast you cum, too, don’t you? Somehow that’s my fault also, just like the rest of your problems.”
“I don’t cum fast,” I spluttered, feeling myself go red in the face. My pride wouldn’t let that one stand. “What the fuck is your problem?”
Monica’s voice was getting steadily louder. “You don’t, huh? Then how come you’ve never gotten me off? I gave you plenty of opportunities. But it took weeks of sessions, and Liz with a strapon before I finally got someone to-”
I was about to interject, loudly, and turn this into a full-blown shouting match, when we both cut off at the clear and distinct sound of a slap, followed by a moan coming from behind the closed door of Liz’s office.
We stared at each other, a scant few inches the only thing separating us.
“What, uh, did the rest of them go to do?” I’d gotten into it with Monica before I could even ask.
Monica pursed her lips, then, tersely, said, “Liz is doing a scene with the High Priestess, Fleur, and Milo.” She shrugged. “Fiona’s playing Fleur as really bratty, and she made some more comments about Milo. The High Priestess carted the two of them off.”
“Ah.” I hesitated, not sure what to say next.
Monica shrugged, then, the wind clearly taken out of her sails. “And I, for one, am curious. C’mon, let’s go listen in.”
“I’m not sure we should...” I trailed after her uncertainly. I didn’t like the idea that we were listening in on other players scenes; I definitely wouldn’t have wanted someone listening in on Erin and I, just now.
Laughter danced in her eyes. “Don’t worry, if Liz catches us listening in, you can just blame me, the way you do for everything else. I’m corrupting you with my villainous ways, turning you against your friends. Just like last campaign, right?”
It felt childish when she put it that way. Chastened, I followed her.
And then we were right outside Liz’s office door. We could hear them inside clearly enough.
“ ... it is as I said, Fleur: you cannot see yourself as better than others simply because of your adherence to your vows.” It was Liz, speaking in the commanding, imperious tones of the High Priestess of the Sun.
“B-but, High Priestess.” Fiona’s voice was a trembling gasp. “I am purer for my d-devotion, closer to the Sun’s splendor, more virtu-ah, ah, fuck-”
In the background, we could hear a steady, wet shlick. The sound was vulgar, unmistakably lewd. It could only be one thing: someone getting aggressively fingered, or maybe fucked.
“Oh, Fleur. You are all of those things. Purer. More virtuous. More devoted.” The High Priestess was smug.
“Is Liz good with her hands? It sure sounds like it.” Monica whispered the words in my ear.
“I-I don’t know,” I muttered. I was still trying to make sense of what was happening in the room. Liz was fingering Fiona? I could imagine it, Liz in that High Priestess costume, face to face with Fiona, hand shoved up under that short skirt...
“ ... But that doesn’t mean you’re better. Sometimes the most effective weapon is a blade, stabbing, and cutting ... and sometimes what you need is a blunt instrument.” The High Priestess sounded amused, now.
“High Priestess,” Fleur’s voice, again. “I-if you keep going ... I-I’m going to...”
God. The clear desperation in Fiona’s lilting voice was hot. The confrontation with Monica had already been charged, already started turning me on; listening to this, in spite of how recently I’d finished with Erin, I felt my cock stirring in response. I glanced down at Monica, who was paying as close attention as I was. A flush was creeping up her pale features, her lips parted in surprise.
Liz’s response was immediate, sharp. “Do not. You do not have permission. I gave you permission to indulge in my touch, but you may not finish, or you will be in violation of your Oath, Fleur. And I am not planning on stopping any time soon, so you must endure. Show us just how devoted you are.”
Fiona made a whining sound.
“My point, Fleur, is this: one day, you’ll need other tools. Maybe even someone like Milo. Someone who isn’t nearly as chaste as you. Even someone who’s a bit lecherous. Someone willing and able to do things you aren’t.” The High Priestess’s voice was a purr as her attention shifted. “Speaking of which, Milo, you look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Yes, High Priestess.” Mike’s voice was hoarse; I could imagine him, eyes locked on Liz’s fingers as they pumped in and out of Fiona’s pussy.
“Then take out your cock, Milo. You certainly aren’t bound by any Oath.” Liz kept the High Priestess’s voice smooth, nonchalant. She could’ve just as easily been asking a servant for a glass of water, or instructing someone to draw closed the tent flaps.
It was utterly at odds with the sound of her pleasuring Fiona’s wet pussy.
“Yes, High Priestess.” Even through the door, the hesitancy in Mike’s voice was clear ... but he repeated the words, and the unbuckling, the rustle of fabric, indicated his compliance.
“Good. Now, Fleur, I’m going to give you a little lesson, before you all begin your journey. A test of your discipline, and a demonstration of the value of a good relationship with your fellow Children of the Sun, all at once.” Liz’s voice turned wicked, lewd alongside the wet sound of her fingers inside of Fiona. “I’ll stop once Milo finishes. Your devotion to your Oath is strong enough to outlast him, isn’t it?”
Fiona groaned; the urgent need in it was palpable. “Ngh. Y-yes, High Priestess, of c-course.”
“Wow,” Monica whispered, approvingly. “You might think I’m bad, but Liz is just outright diabolical. This is clever and hot.”
Again, Monica had a point. It was obvious that Fiona mostly had Mike eating out of the palm of her hand; this inverted their dynamic quite neatly.
Part of me wondered if Liz was hoping it would help Mike, somehow.
The rest of me was aware that my cock was now rock-hard. And I was acutely conscious of Monica next to me, her body in that bikini top. The way her tits looked. How they’d felt around my cock, earlier this afternoon.
As I looked down at her, she gave me an up-down, her lips quirking up into a knowing smile. But before Monica could speak, Liz was talking again.
“You know,” Liz mused, “Milo’s really doing you a favor. If he wanted to make things difficult for you, all he’d have to do is slow down. Take his hand off his cock and watch for a bit.” We could hear that Liz had picked up the pace. The sounds were coming faster, louder; she was working Fiona hard.
Fiona’s answer was just a wordless moan, this time.
“But instead,” Liz continued, “he’s pumping that little cock so fast, isn’t he? He must really like you.”
We could hear Mike grunt in response.
My attention was pulled away from the proceedings inside the room, though, as Monica, casually, reached out a hand and rested it on my increasingly-hard cock through the costume I was wearing. I glanced her way to realize that she was looking up at me, thoughtfully.
“If we were in there,” Monica asked, slowly, “Would you be trying to help me out, to finish quick? Or would you just be trying to outlast me in front of Liz?”
I wasn’t sure what the answer was. Fortunately, Liz was talking again inside, her High Priestess voice dripping with suggestion. “Of course, Fleur, if you want him to finish faster ... you could always encourage him.”
The response from Fiona was immediate, words tumbling out of her one after another.
“God, please, Mik-Milo, I want you to cum. I’ll ... I’ll be nicer to you. I-if you don’t, I-I can’t last much longer, I need your - ah - help. Please. O-otherwise I’ll break my oath, she’s going faster, I-I’m really close, oh, fuck, Liz-”
Fiona’s words devolved into a series of whimpers -- you could hear her efforts to hold back her own orgasm escalating, that it was only a matter of time before she lost control.
My cock throbbed in appreciation. Monica was running her hand over my length rhythmically now, squeezing and teasing through my pants.
“Cazimir would like to hear Maye beg for him to cum that way, wouldn’t he?” Monica’s dark eyes were locked on mine, her voice a soft hiss. “Or maybe you’d just ignore me, watch Liz get me off. After all, that’s the only way it would happen anyway.”
I decided that I’d had enough. Enough of Monica’s repeated digs at my stamina, enough of the way she weaponized the interactions with my friends, enough of how just playing characters was an excuse to tease me, enough shit from her about how she always got me off so fast. I was tired of this game she and I kept playing -- one I seemed to keep losing.
“Enough.”
It took me a moment to register that I’d actually said the word aloud as I pushed her up against the wall next to Liz’s front door. “Shut up,” I hissed at her. “I’m tired of this. Of you.”
She was looking up at me, and then glanced down. I was pinning her against the wall; she could probably feel my cock against her stomach. A smile played across her lips. “So do something about it, then. If you can.”
“You just love using this game to tease me, don’t you?” I muttered down at her, trying to keep from raising my voice. “The costuming photos, the last campaign, what you’re doing now ... you’re afraid to have an actual conversation about what you want.”
Which was exactly what was frustrating me about Erin, too, now, I realized. It made me angrier that i felt the same way about both of them.
“Am I?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or is it that you aren’t man enough to just take what you want?”
Up until this moment in my life, I don’t think I really understood what the term hate-fuck meant. I mean, I grasped the basic concept, obviously. But the idea of resenting someone and wanting to fuck them didn’t really make sense to me.
Standing in front of her, looking down at the condescending, smirking confidence on her face, feeling the sheer rage rising in me ... well, I wanted to hate-fuck Monica.
There was silence for a moment as I considered what I wanted to do to her. I was seconds away from bending her over in that hallway and railing her as hard as I could.
And then, from inside the room, we heard Mike let out a low, unmistakable grunt as he orgasmed.
We heard the sounds of Liz’s hand slow, and then stop; Fiona’s groan, part frustration, part relief, as she pulled away.
“Good, good.” The High Priestess’s voice was brisk, businesslike, as if this had taken far longer than she had expected. “Thank him, Fleur.”
“Thank you, Milo.” Fiona said it weakly.
“Now, you two clean up. You’ll need to set out shortly. I need to go get changed into another NPC’s outfit.”
We could hear movement from the other side of the door; it would open any second now.
The moment had passed. “Gah.” I stepped away from Monica, glaring at her for a moment before stalking back down the hallway.
Her soft laughter followed me back to the living room.
I would say that the following scene -- where we set out through the desert towards the djinni’s caves -- was not our best collective roleplaying, as a group.
Mike wasn’t paying attention at all, just staring at Fiona. I was sure he was replaying the last scene over and over in his mind.
Fiona was fidgeting and agitated. I was surprised she didn’t run to the bathroom -- but I think she knew what Mike and Liz would know that meant. So she just sat, distractedly fiddling with her costume’s little skirt.
I was distracted, too. I alternated between watching Monica, imagining the things I would do to shut her up once and for all ... and watching Liz, mulling over everything that was happening.
Liz had changed into a new outfit.
She was wearing a heels, a black vest and black pants -- which her butt, nonetheless, filled out wonderfully. The vest was buttoned in the front, but it left part of her midriff bare, and there wasn’t a hint of a bra underneath -- just Liz’s lean curves.
She had a wig on, giving her a short, dark pixie cut, and she’d added a number of earrings and piercings -- fake or otherwise, I couldn’t tell you. A nose piercing, belly button ring, a series of dark studs that ran up the outside of her ear.
Oh ... and her skin was blue.
She looked like some kind of otherwordly, supernatural entity. A djinni, presumably.
The others oohed and aahed over it, Fiona admiring the heels, Monica commiserating over what that much blue was going to do to whatever towel she used to remove it.
I was probably quieter than the rest. I kept coming back to wondering what my good friend Liz was up to.
If I was honest: I was considering if she was still my good friend, after she’d set up Erin to play as my patron without telling me.
At least the upshot of all this was that nobody seemed to be focused enough to grill me about what I’d done upstairs.
Once we settled in to play, Fiona, Mike, and I were all slow to re-engage. I was sure they were caught up in the interpersonal dynamics just like I was.
Only Monica and Liz seemed to have their shit together, so the rest of us let Maye take the lead as the party departed, listened as she thanked the High Priestess, asked Liz questions about the route options we could take, and so on.
Monica managed to both roleplay our departure and periodically look my way, smug and amused. Of course.
Liz narrated how the party traveled through the desert for the better part of a week. We made a few dice rolls and, in spite of none of us having characters that were especially well-suited to navigating through the wilderness, we were at least seasoned desert-dwellers who had grown up in the harsh desert environment. A few minutes of roleplaying saw our little group standing outside the djinni’s cave.
“The cave is easy to spot, even from far away; a craggy mountain of rock juts up out of the sands, six or seven stories high, towering above the dunes. At the base is an ominous, yawning maw,” Liz intoned. “It seems like a natural cave, rather than being manmade; water or magma must’ve carved this out of the rock millennia ago.”
I tried to use the scene change to pull myself out of my own head. “Are there any arcane emanations coming from the cave that Cazimir can detect?” I asked.
“Make an Arcana check. I’ll give you advantage on the roll.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain why if you succeed,” she said, cryptically.
I rolled my eyes at her. And then rolled the dice. “Twenty-one.”
Mike golf-clapped.
“Yes. The cave reeks of magic. It’s the magic of illusion, secret desires, charms, and deceptions. A lot like the magic of your patron, in fact.”
“ ... Who is his patron again?” Fiona also seemed to be pulling herself together.
Liz shrugged. “You’d have to ask Cazimir.”