The Lady Paladin - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Eggmother

It has been a week since my encounter with the Spider King. I thank the Lord, once again, that the pair of paladins who came to escort me back to the Order's compound believed my excuses about my missing armor and broken sword. Is that right, thanking the Lord for someone believing a lie? It seems wrong. Lying is, after all, a sin. However, sin or not, I cannot bear to face the humiliation of telling everyone I was captured and raped by the very creature I had hoped to slay. Better they think that I, like almost everyone else who has returned from this quest, never encountered him. I will get enough mocking for my failure as it is.

We are entering the compound now. It is as lively as usual, bustling with novices, initiates, pages, and the lower clergy, as well as the various commoners who sweep the floors, cook the meals, tend the gardens, and do all the various other tasks that keep this place running. My two companions and I are on horseback for swift travel. We stop by the stables and dismount. I want to take care of my own gelding, to see that he is well groomed and fed, but Sir Latimer, one of my fellow travelers, convinces me to give the reins to a stablehand.

"What is so urgent that, not only am I being escorted, but I cannot even take care of my own horse?" I want to know.

Sir Roland, the other paladin in my escort, sighs. "Asking again will not change the fact that we aren't allowed to tell you."

I shrug. "I thought that, now that we are back-"

"Well, you thought wrong," snaps Sir Roland.

"Roland, mind your temper," Sir Latimer murmurs, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "She is a fellow paladin. That deserves a certain level of manners."

As I am not meant to hear this, I don't reply. Nor do I respond when Sir Roland mutters, "Fine, I'll be polite to the bitch," under his breath. I plan on reporting him to the Master Paladin next time I have a chance. In addition to this discourtesy, which is but one of many, Sir Roland has a habit of letting his hands fall where they shouldn't, and rest there, until I object. Sometimes he squeezes things, and he makes lewd suggestions when Sir Latimer can't hear. After the Spider King, this is almost more than I can bear. Especially given the nightmares.

Well, I call them nightmares. They are actually rarely unpleasant while they are happening, at least at first. One recurring dream is actually a reiteration of my encounter with the Spider King, with minor variations. The other is a bit stranger.

In that dream, I am looking down on myself from above as I walk through the corridors of the Order's compound with Sir Roland and Sir Latimer, just like I am now, in fact. In the dream, I keep wanting to tell myself to run, but am unable to speak. I'm not even sure I have a mouth.

The me below and the two other paladins come to a door. I can never remember, afterwards, which door in the compound it is, but in the dream I know, and I dread it. The door opens, and suddenly, I am not looking down on myself anymore. My upper body is strapped to a table, while my calves are strapped to the table's legs, so that my thighs are spread wide and my ass is up in the air. In the dream I am naked and something is coming up behind me, oh God something is coming up behind me...

And then I'd woken up, gasping, in my bedroll. Once I had calmed myself down, I usually started wondering what it meant. I decided the first time it was no memory, not even one twisted by dream. I would think it was a premonition, were I as stupid and uneducated as Sir Roland seems to think. Premonitions are impossible. Even God does not know the future, though he sees every detail of the past and present.

But now we are coming to a door, and I must end my musings. It is the door of one of the senior clergy who oversee the Order of Paladins, a man named Bishop Arthur Orwen. I have never met him, but by the gossip of servants I know him to be a scholar of sorts as well as a cleric, always researching some esoteric old prayer or orison, as well as experimenting with new ways to shape the power that is given to the clergy by our Lord. He is one of the highest ranking members of the clergy to stay in the Order's compound, higher in rank than the lower clergy and most paladins, but below the Master Paladin, his Lieutenants, and the single Scarlet who reports directly to the Zierat, the head of the Church and the Voice of Our Lord.

Sir Roland knocks respectfully, and when Bishop Orwen says "Come in!" he opens the door, and we enter.

"Ah, Sir Roland, Sir Latimer. And this must be the Paladin I sent you for, Lady..." He pauses, frowning.

"Thera, Bishop Orwen," I say.

"Ah, yes, Lady Thera. It is a pleasure to meet you, milady. Please, sit. Have some tea. There is something we must discuss," says Bishop Orwen. He seems to be an amiable old man. In his youth, I think, he must have been a heartbreaker, the sort who is too busy with studying to notice the way the ladies swoon. Now, of course, he has lines around his eyes from smiling, and more grey hair than brown.

His office is covered in papers and books, which populate both the desks and the chairs. I sit in the only chair that is bare of the bishop's work, and pick up a cup full of tea. It is still hot. The gate guards must have sent word to him when we arrived.

Before I can drink, Bishop Orwen stops me. "No, milady, that is mine. I have a special herbal blend, you see, for my health. You would not like it."

The tea smells fine to me, but I shrug and hand him the cup I am holding, and then pick up the other. I take a sip. Sir Latimer has an odd expression on his face. I consider asking him what is wrong, but the bishop dismisses him before I can decide. "You may go, Sir Latimer, if you wish. I know you have other matters to attend to. Sir Roland, if you could guard the door. See that we are not disturbed."

The two men exit. The bishop turns to me. "Now, Lady Thera, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to help wipe out those pesky fairy folk, once and for all?"

I try not to show my alarm on my face. I like the fairy folk. In the small castle where I grew up, they often helped in the orchards, keeping the trees free of pests for nothing more than a nightly bowl of milk. Since then, they have frequently aided in my quests. For the proper price, of course. But that is their nature, to barter and bargain and, sometimes, to trick. I knew the higher clergy did not feel the way I did, but I did not expect this. Not so soon.

"I know what you're thinking," says Bishop Orwen. I try not to panic, and am relieved when he continues, "They're too small. Too fast. They fly, with their little wings, and they hide using their dark powers. Impossible to hit, some might say."

"Not impossible," I disagree. I have my pride.

The bishop laughs. "That's what all the paladins say! But you send them to clear the fairies out of a village or a forest or something and they only manage to get one or two before the rest just vanish or fly away. But I've discovered a solution!"

He looks at me expectantly, and the silence stretches just a bit too long. "What solution?" I belatedly ask.

He grins. "A final solution. One that will wipe out the vermin once and for all! Tell me, do you remember the little green caterpillars that were all over the place last fall?" "Yes. They nearly wiped out the melon crop," I reply, wondering where this was going.

"Do you know why they're not a problem this year?" asks Bishop Orwen.

I start to have a horrible suspicion about what this final solution is. But why all the secrecy? Why summon me? "Yes. My father sent me a letter. There was this type of wasp-"

"Yes, very good! The wasp would lay eggs in the caterpillar, and its babies would eat the caterpillars up from the inside, and then," his grin widens, "when the caterpillar spun its cocoon, the baby wasps would just finish it off, and then they would emerge from the cocoon instead! What a wonder of nature! No more moths meant no more caterpillars this year, or at least not enough to be a problem. And that's what gave me the idea." He leans forward. "What if we create a type of wasp that lays its eggs in the fairy folk?" He pulls from a drawer in the desk behind him a large bottle with a fairy inside.

I can only bear to look for a second, but what I see is seared into my brain. The poor girl has her wings chewed off. Her stomach is bulging like she is pregnant, except the bulge is moving in a horrible, horrible way, like a bag of worms, while other wiggling bulges tunnel through her arms and legs. The fairy's face is panicked; she bangs on the glass and is very obviously screaming. But there is a silence rune on the bottle, so no sound emerges. I try not to throw up.

"Monster!" I gasp. "You're a monster!"

He shakes his head slowly, like a teacher disappointed by a dumb pupil. "I had such high hopes you would join us willingly, Lady Thera. Ah well." He shrugs, and smiles. "Good thing I took the precaution of drugging your tea."

"Drugging..." I cannot get the rest of the word out. I feel paralyzed, and numb. I try desperately to leap from my seat, but I cannot seem to move.

"It is hard to create life, you know," says the bishop conversationally. "Too often it requires messy ritual sacrifices. So inconvenient, especially since I had trouble requisitioning enough animals. And, moreover, these wasps must be intelligent, if they are to prey on the cunning fairies, so they would require an intelligent sacrifice. The Zierat forbade the use of commoners, unfortunately, and if I could capture enough fairies, I would not need the wasps at all; I could just wipe out the fairies myself. Fortunately, there is a solution. Your womb."

"My..." I manage to gasp. My vision is darkening around the edges.

"Yes. You Lady Paladins so rarely use your female parts for anything useful, but they contain, within them, the God given ability to create life. So I created a creature to lay eggs in your womb, so that they could germinate into my wasps. Do not worry, Lady Thera, you will survive the process. Your womb won't, but I doubt you were planning to use it anyways." The last thing I see as I slip into blackness is his self satisfied smile.

---

I am dreaming of the Spider King again. Somehow, I know it is a dream, but I can't seem to wake up. Not that I really want to. He lifts me effortlessly into the air, and I embrace him as he lowers me onto his twin cocks. I shudder in ecstasy as his tickler finds my clit, and, as I move, I can feel his cocks within me, huge and curved against my insides. He lifts me up, so that his cocks almost slide out of me, and then he lowers me back down as his hips thrust upwards. I marvel at his strength. And then he...

He forces me facedown onto a table, and straps me down with my arms at my sides. I cannot seem to move. I want to wake up now. I blink, and it is not the Spider King but Sir Roland looming above me. He leers. "She's waking up, Bishop Orwen."

"Good, good. Get her legs, now, before she comes fully awake." I recognize Bishop Orwen's voice, and his face peers down at me out of the haze.

Sir Roland is behind me now. I blink muzzly. Something brushes against my pussy. "Geez, she's soaking-"

I kick back instinctively, and hear a yelp. "Fucking cunt!" Sir Roland yells.

Bishop Orwen sighs. "Must I do it myself?"

He moves to where I can't see him, and I feel his soft, callus free hands against my calves. He is surprisingly strong, but it takes both of them to force my legs apart and strap my calves to the small table's legs.

I wonder if I am still sleeping. It reminds me so strongly of my nightmares. But I know I am awake by the sour smell of Sir Roland, and the bishop's paper and ink scent. I never smell anything in my dreams.

There is a clanking of chains behind me, and a soft whine. I suddenly smell something else. Something musky and sweet and vaguely fishy, almost like...

"You know what to do now," the Bishop says, breaking my train of thought. "I've walked you through it enough times."

"Yes, I know, I know. Plug Lady Thera's ass so the Eggmother doesn't get confused, and then press the button that unwinds her chains."

"It, not her. And I abhor that term you paladins use for it. Eggmother indeed. It is the Calcified Embryonic Wasp Uterine Injector."

"Ok, press the button that unwinds its chains." Sir Roland sighs. "Better, Most Revered?"

"Much. And, remember, monitor the process. Don't let Thera get too full. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time. And, whatever you do, don't-"

"Don't get within its reach. I know. Believe me, I won't," says Sir Roland, shuddering.

"Good. Just so long as you remember. God's grace be with you as you do His work." And, with that, Bishop Orwen leaves. I hear the door open, and then lock behind him.

Roland, for I can no longer bear to call him Sir anything, slaps my ass. "Still awake, Thera? You don't want to miss this!"

I growl and struggle as my mind finally clears of fog. "I'll kill you for this, Roland! I'll kill you!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure you will." He smacks me on the ass again. "Pity I never got to tap this while we were traveling. You are such a cold fish, Thera."

"Go to hell!" I snap, and he laughs.

"I'm doing the work of the Lord, bitch. You're the one who's fighting his will. You're the one who's going to hell, if you don't repent." He shows me a big, black thing. I can tell by its shape what it is for. "This is going in your ass," he tells me, leering.

"Like hell it is!" I snarl.

Roland just chuckles. "Oh, it is. It is."

He makes a big show of covering the buttplug with lubricant, and walks around behind me again. I begin to panic. I wish I could see what he was doing. I feel the slimy tip of the buttplug begin to slid into my ass, and clench my muscles.

"Still fighting? Good," the bastard says from behind me. "I like it when they fight."

It takes time, but he slowly forces the it in. "You know, I could just forget about the it," Roland muses. "Watch the Eggmother shove her huge eggs up your ass. It'd serve you right for kicking me. Especially when your colon ruptures."

With an effort of will, hating myself for it, I relax my muscles, and the invasive tool slides in.

"Knew you'd begin to see things my way," Sir Roland gloats. "They always do."

I growl, furious but impotent.

Sir Roland walks back into my line of sight. "Time for the main event. Relax, and we'll both have fun. Don't relax and, well..." He grins. "I'll still have fun."

He presses a button. Behind me, chains begin to clank.

I still can't see the Eggmother, but I can hear her, as she shuffles along the floor. Closer. Closer. Something slimy brushes against my ass. I stifle a startled squeak.

Then the slimy thing is feeling for something. It brushes against buttplug. I wince as it tries to force its way into my blocked hole.

Sir Roland grabs a long metal rod, and whacks the thing behind me. It squeals, and retreats. I sigh in relief.

The I tense up again as something brushes my ass again. And then another something joins it, brushing against the opposite cheek. They trail along my ass, going lower and lower until they brush against my pussy. I hear an excited whine.

More of the Eggmother's soft, wet appendages touch my pussy lightly. Two go lower to wrap around my thighs, forcing me to open up even more. Another two spread my labia wide. A fifth tentacle, thicker than the rest, brushes softly across my clit before ramming its ridged length deep into my cunt. I yelp. Roland laughs, and angles for a better view.

I feel almost as full as I did when the Spider King was inside of me. This time, it hurts instead of filling me with unwanted pleasure. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. It will do nothing but please Roland, and he is much, much too happy already, judging by the bulge beneath his codpiece.

Roland unlaces his codpiece, and pulls down his leggings, freeing his cock. It is smaller than either of the Spider King's, I note, but still a bit larger than average. Roland strokes himself, and grins in a cross eyed sort of way.

The Eggmother is forcing herself deeper inside of me. I feel her horrible appendage, her ovipositor, brush my cervix, and I shiver as my body betrays me. It feels good.

It does not, however, feel good when the ovipositor begins to force its way past my cervix. It hurts. A lot. I bite my lip until blood runs down my chin and drips onto the floor.

Then the ovipositor is past my cervix, in my womb. It feels so strange, having it move around in there. I wonder if this is how a mother feels when her baby moves inside of her. Hopefully not.

The Eggmother pauses. Shudders. Shudders again. And then the first egg brushes the outside of my pussy. I clench my muscles, but it continues its inexorable journey up the tube, into my aching hole. As it forces my opening wide, shoving the tube's ridges against my clit, I gasp in a mix of agony and growing passion. My unwilling arousal only grows as the egg is forced deeper into my cunt, rubbing up against my insides. And then it reaches my cervix, and all thought of pleasure is wiped out by white hot agony as the egg is forced through into my womb. As it pops out of the tube inside of me, I have no time to recover; the next egg is already shoving the tube against my clit.

The cycle of mixed pain and passion as an egg enters, and then pure torment as it is forced into my womb, repeats itself again and again and again. I don't know how much longer I can take this and still remain sane. My womb is starting to expand to accommodate the intruders. I can feel it, heavy in my belly. I wonder how large I will get before I split open like an overripe fruit.

"I bet you're wondering how large you're going to get," Roland says gleefully. He is masturbating in earnest now, leaning against the wall and leering down at me. "The answer is - fucking enormous. Bigger than any pregnant bitch. So big you can't even waddle away. While you were out the Bishop prayed over your belly and wrote some runes on there to help it stretch without breaking. If you'd cooperated, he'd have written a few more to help with the pain." He laughs. "I'm not sure which I like better, watching a woman orgasm over what should be agony, or watching fighters like you suffer. Oh, and if you think it hurts now, just wait until you start to get really full."

"Fuck you," I hiss through clenched teeth. "I'll cut your dick off, you bastard!"

Roland chuckles, and continues stroking himself. "No, you won't. You'll lick it."

"Like hell I will! You get that thing anywhere near my mouth and I'll bite it off!" I snarl.

"If you let your teeth even touch my dick, I'll let the Eggmother continue until she cracks you like an egg. Physically or mentally, whichever comes first," Roland says, eyes glittering in delighted anticipation. "However, if you're a good girl, and you suck it well, I'll shove the Eggmother off as soon as I cum. Provided, of course, you swallow." He grins. "Or you can just keep your bitch mouth shut and get filled up full. Now, which will it be?"

"Go to hell!" I snap, and then I close my eyes and gasp in pain as the next egg is forced into my womb.

"Filled up full it is, then. Pity," Roland muses, "I bet you can suck it really good, with that big mouth of yours." He strokes himself faster, eyes intent on my naked, restrained form. "Ah well. At least I get to watch you get stuffed." He watches as I shudder. "How does it feel?"

"How about you come over here and... ugh... you try?" I growl. One of the things he said is resonating in my mind. So big you can't even waddle away...

I need to limit the number of eggs in my belly. I need to be able to run, to fight, if I am to escape. I need to swallow my pride, and suck the bastard's dick. And I need to do it quickly.

"Roland..." I murmur, trying to look cowed. "I changed my mind."

He looks startled. "Breaking already, Thera? I never took you for such a coward."

Should I cry, I wonder. Would he believe it? How far can I swallow my pride before it chokes me? "It hurts," I whimper. I have no trouble looking pained.

He chuckles. "How like a woman, to give up after a little bitty bit of pain." He leans toward me. "I want you to beg me."

"What?" I expected him to jump at the chance to stick his dick in my mouth. Why isn't he?

"You heard me. Beg. Beg me for the chance to suck my dick," Roland says, looking smug. "Otherwise, the deal's off. I'll let you get filled up full."

I am silent. How far am I willing to go?

"Well?" Roland leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. "I'm waiting."

I cannot do this. I cannot.

"You have ten seconds, and then the deal is off," Roland tells me. "Ten..."

There is moisture on my face. Am I crying?

"Nine, eight..." Roland continues.

I have to do this. Not just for me. For the fairy folk. For the other lady paladins.

The countdown continues. "Seven, six..."

"Please, Roland," I whisper.

He leans forward again. "Please what?"

"Please let me suck your dick, Roland. Please," I beg. My pride shatters.

"And why do you want to suck my dick?" Roland prompts.

"Because then you'll stop the Eggmother from-" I begin.

He slaps me, reddening my cheek and bloodying my nose. "Wrong answer! You want to suck my cock because you're a slut, and that's all you're good for. Say it."

"Please, Roland, let me suck your cock, because I'm a slut. It's all I'm good for," I obediently plead. I... I don't... This can't be happening.

He shakes his head in mock wonder. "Amazing. The bitch can be taught! Maybe there's hope for you yet, Thera. Now, open your mouth."

I open my mouth obediently, and he slips his erect length inside. I feel like a part of me has died.

"What are you doing, bitch? Suck it! Or don't you want the Eggmother to stop?" Roland grabs me by the hair, and shoves himself in deep. I try not to gag, and force myself to suck on the fleshy length.

He begins to work himself in and out. "That's it, bitch. Take it deep. Take it good. And, remember, I feel one tooth..." He trails off threateningly.

I do my best to keep his dick away from my teeth, and to suck on it well, as Roland relentlessly fucks my face. Tears are definitely leaking from my eyes now as I gag on Roland's cock, and drool is running down my checks. Behind me, the Eggmother continues to force her eggs in. My belly hurts. I have to finish him off quickly. But how? I've never sucked a dick before in my life. I try desperately to remember shower room gossip.

Roland is fucking my face faster now. His balls are slapping against my chin, and his belly is ramming up against my nose. I cannot breathe.

The entire world narrows into a dick, a hairy belly, my nose and mouth, and my fight for air as Roland continues. Suddenly he freezes mid thrust, and thick cum gushes down my throat as I choke and try to get air into my aching lungs. He holds me tight, up against his belly and crotch, as he finishes. As my vision starts to go black, I try to remember why I'm not supposed to bite.

Roland pulls out with a contented sigh, and I gasp for air and cough, spitting out cum. "Close enough to swallowing, I suppose," he says, grinning, and presses the button. As my vision clears, I hear the Eggmother wailing as it is pulled back by the chains. I clench my teeth in agony as the ovipositor pops free of my cervix, and shudder in pleasure as the lumpy appendage is pulled from my pussy.

 I growl, twisting in my restraints. “You’ll never get away with this!”

Roland laughs as he presses a cloth against the opening of a bottle. He upends the bottle briefly, soaking the cloth, and then presses it against my face. As blackness begins to rise in my mind, I hear him speak.

“What’s to get away with? We’ve got the support of the Zierat. You’re the one who won’t get away.”

Roland leaves the room, and I am left alone, save for the wailing Eggmother.

Continued in Chapter 3

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