Chapter Text
Arlene was a woman condemned to death by the nature of her claim to womanhood itself. The people of the Barrow Fold were a superstitious lot, and the nature of her birth was uproarious. Indeed, her mother and father did howl at their terrible misfortune the moment her Mark was revealed. The midwife nearly dropped the infant babe. Far from the nation’s capital city and devoid of the funds necessary for a holy pilgrimage, the curse upon Arlene was set to permanently affix to her person. Her ailment could have been salvaged had there been a holy woman to unweave the magic, but alas, Arlene was destined for exile in the wilds. She was reared under the care of those that had shared her ill fortune before, though their were scant few of them. By the time she came of age, Arlene was left alone to tend to the medicines and herbs necessary for her affliction. There were some that braved the treacherous path to her home that sought the cure to her curse without bearing its Mark. Word had spread of strange transformations among the denizens in the nearby townships, and this caught the attention of the Order Maestus Lamina. In short, the very holy women that could have offered salvation, now holds a looming fist above the cursed woman. Despite her exile, the whispers reached poor Arlene. A holy woman was to arrive in Ardount, her ill-fated birthplace.
“I mustn’t tarry too long on this spiteful eve,” she said under her breath. She tied off a burlap sack replete with the kind of forest toadstools she was most fond of. It quite amused her to play the role of crone, to use her voice so resonant and round to mismatch her speech to what would otherwise be a raspy croak. While she was no sproutling maiden, her adulthood balanced a refined youthfulness within her twenty-five odd years. Rather than be resigned to her fate as a so-called crone, she eagerly anticipated it, embracing the scorn of those that had so crushed all prospect and fortune. Thus, Arlene performed the pariah with aplomb, much to the delight of those that sought her company and her expertise. As much as she loved to ruminate on her theatrical inclinations, Arlene knew the night was threatened by the consular mystic en route to Ardount.
She still needed to bathe in the cascade pool at nightfall, per her usual habit, as such an opportunity would not so easily present itself in her coming flight from home. Yes, poor Arlene was meant to leave on the morrow and had been running around her typical haunts preparing until the sun disappeared from the sky. Night fell, and Arlene was wary of the forest now additionally hiding a holy woman endowed with botanical magics. This was supposed to be her shroud, and yet, the stars shone brighter that night. Quickly, the cursed woman undressed as the water slowly bubbled and trickled in and out of the pooled spring. Short and with a body hardened from laboring through her misfortune, she hurriedly stepped into the water. She would be safe, for the time being. Folks did not come there in the evening for fear of the creatures that prowled and the way the earth silently howled with magic, blanketing the air with a heavy curtain of turmoil.
The message was clear to those not attuned to the arcane, or else in conflict with nature. Leave. This was not the case for Arlene. She too, silently howled, and she too, possessed a natural beauty that made the mournful air around her sing. The woman was not pinned under pain, she moved through it, courageously. In her bosom, a heart beat relentlessly despite those that believed sin had claimed it. Its rhythm gave rise to her chest in the first place. She stood proud in the flow of the water, for just above the water hung the mark of her curse. The thing that was not meant to be there. The part that had seemingly defied the prophesy of her birth. Indeed, the order had determined that Arlene’s mother was meant to be blessed with a daughter, anything else was a grievous portent. None in the town, not even her mother, believed otherwise, and so she was cast out per law, per faith. Despite her mind and soul, they punished her for her body. She eventually came to find that the wilds would nurture it in the way she so desired, and now can stand in the faint moonlight with her body bare, muscled, and curved. Her long dark hair reached below her waist, pulled into multiple tails now wet at the tip. Her breasts rested gently, despite their fullness. She was surely descended from some muse for a sculptor, though the great injustice is that none would see her beyond the Mark of her curse, and as such would spurn her as a subject. Arlene did not mind this misfortune, or else expended herself so much as to not have time to dwell on it. She thought herself lucky to be left alone, none had understood that she stood in the place of a cursed babe. None had seen the sight she only bore in the most secluded and magical parts of the wilds. None yet.
As she gently passed her hands over her body with tender love and care to bathe, something rustled in the woods that was unfamiliar to her ear at this hour. Rather than a creature, or footsteps, it was something quite strange. It sounded like a flowing of earth or soil, but without any water or mud. The sound was difficult to place, and soon disappeared as quickly as it came. The usual sounds of the environment came back into auditory focus. Arlene turned away from where she believed the sound originated from, sensing the closing of a magic channel. Alert, she narrowed her eyes to look again before hearing something else behind her— the scooping of water into a canteen at the waters' edge. She turned to see a faintly blushing woman trying to sneakily mask her presence, though she had failed and immediately turned her eyes directly into Arlene’s. The witch saw an uncertainty, a faint desire, directed at her. Warmth flooded her body. She did not realize that she had ever been so cold before. Arlene broke their mutual gaze. Their shock was then shared, as Arlene saw the garb of the woman belonging that showed she was of the very Order meant to ultimately capture her. She muted her reaction in a split second, and instead looked into the face of the intruder. The mystic’s shock was more red-faced than Arlene’s, but nonetheless she saw the full figure of a “cursed” woman for the first time. Worse for her, the realization that her kindling desire was directed at one of the blasphemous transformations she was dispatched to investigate and quell. The woman stumbled back, paralyzed with this realization. Having already sensed danger, Arlene swiftly pressed towards the smaller woman, emerging from the water with a martial grace.
She grabbed the woman by the straps of her leather armor and pinned her against a tree.
“Utter a single syllable of a spell, or make any gesture and you’ll regret it. You have invaded my privacy, mystic.”
“Y-.” she paused for a moment, looking side to side for any kind of aid. “You have been doing some kind of forbidden magic, I am to...”
“Hah! Forbidden magic? If it is so forbidden just try…” Arlene had begun to challenge the woman, who seemed to be ill-informed of who she was.
“Your… chest is pressing against me,” crowed the holy woman, averting her reddened gaze.
“What? Ah!” Arlene quickly extended her arms and loosened her grasp slightly so as to separate their bodies. “You are a holy woman, you wear their garb and follow their teachings, but you seem to be distracted. Good, you’re less of a threat to me.” Arlene was still cautious and kept her fangs bared; the mystic consular regained her sense of control.
“Let me heal your sickness.” she demanded.
Arlene howled with laughter.
“Sickness? Sure, if you think your holy magic can fix my ‘ailment’, try it.” repeated Arlene.
The woman began casting various types of illusion dispelling magic, then transfiguration reversion to no avail. She fumbled through her gestures and words, trying to avert her eyes from the naked wild woman in front of her.
“Argh! What manner of sacrilege have you done… you-you beast!” burst out the dejected mystic.
“How pitiful, a holy woman reduced to insults.”
“Well yes I am insulted by your, your thing.” said the nun, with great nervousness.
“Insulted? Or flustered? I assure you no transfiguration or illusion is at work on my end. You, however, seem to be in need of such to conceal your embarrassment, no? Sister…”
“Sister Vura.” she meekly admitted as Arlene assumed control of their conversation.
“Hm, a pleasant name, mine is Arlene. I wonder what the order would think of your lecherous behavior, Sister.”
“I, I’m not—,” she stopped herself to let her embarrassment abate.
Arlene took the opportunity to approach the woman, coming face to face with the mystic. Vura mustered her will and uttered a challenge.
“You would be of much greater import to the order, I’m certain they’d overlook your... influences.”
Arlene reached towards the back of the woman’s head, feeling her shortly-cut, platinum hair between her fingers, scratching her like the loyal dog she was.
“Augh!” The holy woman shrieked in surprise, then softened. She leaned her cheek into Arlene’s outstretched palm for a brief moment before erratically jerking away. “Gurgh! You, you charmer!”
She stamped her boot in a flimsy show of defiance, but stepped toward Arlene, who had moved two paces away.
“Charmer? I’ve been called many things, certainly, but charmer is a new one. All I’ve done is tease a little lamb of god for her lack of discretion.”
The wild woman could see her words slither and twist themselves around the nun's mind, clearly affecting that desire that had been growing over the course of their encounter. In herself, she also stirred with desire, and had simply followed the flow of their conversation. The woman, after all, was so transfixed upon her body it was difficult to steer her away from it. Though it vexed her to have found the attention and possible bed-sharing to have arose from such, Arlene was about to be isolated from any kind of encounter for the time being. Her intention was to never see this woman again.
“I’m not some loyal, meek animal to be put to slaughter!” asserted Vura.
“Well, that remains to be seen, sweetling. Show me.”
“Oh, gods, fine.”
The holy woman stepped forward, pushing her body against the wild, naked 'beast' she found so loathsomely captivating. With her arms wrapped around the shorter woman, she leaned down and pecked the witch on the lips.
“So bold and yet so bashful,” Arlene smiled and continued, “Surely, you would like more than just a peck wouldn’t you?”
She stroked Vura’s neck with a gentle hand, causing her breath to catch and her eyes to alight further with desire. This time, Vura received a deeper kiss from the raven-haired woman. Her clothes felt like they were scorching hot despite the midnight air. She ached beneath them and shuddered to break the kiss. She looked at Arlene expectantly, planting her hands on the other's hips.
Arlene began to stiffen, “Ah ah, you will not be touching, though your enthusiasm is cute.”
Vura gazed down at the now erect cock below her, “Surely you would want to, um. Use your…”
“My cock? I suppose you did charge me as beastly, but no, it’s simply my preference that it is used with extreme discernment, though I am delighted at it capturing your thoughts.” Vura blossomed with embarrassment yet again, receiving both flattery and poison.
“What then, should I do? Haven’t I proven that I am not some mere pawn of the order, by embracing you?”
“Sure, but I am more curious about why you did so, and if you have already met my challenge, why are you still are squirming in my arms? Not to get away, but to get closer.” Arlene tested Vura.
She needed her to confirm her intent to be fucked for one final time, and if so, just what exactly was her expectation?
“You are a very beautiful woman, Arlene.” flattered Vura.
“I’m well aware that you warrior nuns are quite fond of each other, seeing as you swear off marriage. But I also know our kind of relations are frowned upon within the faith.”
“These things, can be forgiven.”
“Then by all means, tell me what you would like to ask forgiveness for?”
A wicked urge began to rise in Arlene, now it was time to play with her quarry, like a sadistic carnivore.
“I want you to touch me, is that enough for you to understand?” pleaded Vura.
“Why?”
“You’re so cruel… I’ve had a long journey and I’ve been quite pent up and I was extremely roused by a sight I was not expecting and I’ve never met a woman like you before and..”
“Hush,” Arlene placed a finger over Vura’s lips and continued, “You could imagine how rude it might be to be talked about in that way, no? As fortune would have it, I am a very forgiving woman. Especially for someone so handsome and so pliant as yourself. I believe penance is due.”
The holy woman thought that Arlene must have had some kind of lust for sacrilege, and yet, she was entranced by it. She has spoken to her in a language familiar to her to taunt and tease, and Vura has now been well and truly inured to the woman's wicked charms.
“Please.”
“Very well, disrobe for me then.”
She quickly obliged, unbuckling the leather straps and padding that decorated the more rugged and martial habit that was issued to the order’s mystics. With all the straps and buttons undone, all but her underclothes fell to the soil beneath them. Before she could pick the various items up, Arlene had already gestured for her to step away so that she could do so herself. While she folded and arranged her belongings neatly, Vura removed her remaining garments and walked over to Arlene.
Despite being taller than her by ten inches, Vura suddenly found herself being swept off her feet and into the arms of her new acquaintance. Gone at this point, were any aspersions or doubts. She wanted this encounter with every fiber of her being. She wrapped her arms around the strange woman she found in the woods. Gazing fiercely in her eyes, she kissed Arlene as she was carried towards the water. Arlene waded into the water, then lowered the nude nun into the water to gently bathe her bottom half. After a few dips and some more shared kisses, the two exited the water. With the weaving of Vura’s artful, elegant magic, the two laid on a bed of soft loam and leaves. Arlene laid atop the nun and parted her legs with her powerful hands.
“Theria above!” huffed Vura—her breath was heavy and her body trembled at the sight of the rippled figure above her.
“What a cute little lamb.” Arlene planted a kiss on Vura’s neck, pressing her chest and body tightly against her, "Where do you want me to touch?"
"My chest, please."
Vura glanced down and noticed just how much the older woman's chest enveloped her own. She felt something sharp and then wet at her neck and realized that she had been nibbled and licked. Arlene kept her tongue running down the right side of her neck, across toward her opposite collarbone and stopped at the firm pectoral above her breast. She too had a rugged body from her training. Her nipple ached at the prospect of the woman's tongue tracing over it. Her body shivered in a way that pleased Arlene greatly. She wore a cruel, cocky smile. The woman was delighted by the the manner in which holy lady beneath her had surrendered herself, such that she was potter’s clay to her touch. It was simply time to mold, to smooth and shape. To make her fingers glide along the grooves and curves of this woman's body and partake in the act of creation as the gods once did.
Of course, her mouth was still a considerably potent tool in this artistic pursuit. One hand worked one breast, and her mouth affixed to the other. Vura gasped as her pulse quickened, sinking into soft moans. The moonlight shone brightly down on the two women. Arlene's tongue twirled around Vura's left nipple as her mouth closed, sucked, nipped, pressed and kissed in sporadic, alternating fashion. Vura's body shook and trembled in the throes of pleasure, her voice straining between rapid breaths, whines, and moans. More than once she had cried out her goddess' name to beg forgiveness. Each time sparked a fervor in her top, pride swelling at the accomplishment, given she had yet to even touch below her waist. Her cock pressed against Vura’s tummy, leaking the slightest bit of precum. In all the overwhelming sensation, Vura had nearly forgotten it was there at all, but was quickly reminded when Arlene turned her body to switch her mouth's attention to the other breast. Her imposing cock rubbed against the woman, and she became painfully aware of the aching pit of desire sinking into her abdomen. Vura's cunt was flooded and slick. She thought herself to be utterly pathetic and undignified for her base desire for a woman's cock. The mere concept had been unfathomable just an hour ago, before she had laid eyes on what she thought was a fairly unassuming, alien flesh. Yet she had no desire to dwell on any kind of conflicted feeling. She needed her cunt to receive any part of Arlene at all. Wrapping her arms around Arlene, she pulled her head away from her chest and placed her mouth centimeters away from the wild woman's ear.
"I beg of you, oh how I need your touch below. I don't care if it isn't your member, I need you to take my cunt, please. Teria forgive me, Arlene, forgive me."
Satisfied with her wicked plea, the heretic held each thigh in her hands, gazing hungrily down upon the damp fuzz and wetted cunt. Her breath was hot and fell upon her sensitive body. Arlene took her two longest fingers and slipped them inside the holy woman with ease, curling them upwards in a rhythmic fashion a few times before drawing her lips above her hood. With a deft upward flick of her tongue, she found her mark and began to trace light circles around her clitoris. Her mouth continued to pleasure the woman while her fingers curled and curved inside. Vura cried out, fully absorbed in the throes of sexual ecstasy. The forest woman panted hot breath in her exertion, yet her free hand gently stroked Vura's hip. Her mouth would close around the clit, sucking gently while still letting her tongue press and flick against it.
"Oh, Lady!" barely escaped Vura's lips.
Vura gripped Arlene's fingers tighter and repeatedly. Her clit was hardened and all the muscles in her body tensed. Something hot and warm flooded Arlene's fingers as Vura cried out her loudest. Against her tongue, her clitoris pulsed. Vura's body rocked upwards as the clutch upon Arlene's fingers remained. The holy woman came with a ferocity; then all the tension in her body quickly left. Collapsed and fully prone now, she breathed in a ragged, erratic pattern, as if she were fighting her own lungs to get a word out but kept failing. Arlene rose to sit up on her knees, her face glistening as she wore a wicked smile. The casting of her shadow drew Vura's eyes upward, where she saw the face of the woman that had her completely in the depths of herself. That evil smile filled her with longing. She watched the heave and fall of her breasts from the energy expended for her sake. Vura saw the woman's erect cock aiming upward with a faint glisten at its tip.
"You want more very desperately don't you? This is where I'd normally inform you, despite your crumpled weakness, that I have just begun. However, I did tell you that I exercise discernment."
The woman pouted from below Arlene, still breathing heavily. "Oh, don't look so disappointed, lamb." chided the cursed woman. Ashamed, Vura collected herself.
"Gods above, that was... wondrous!"
"I am not exactly god-blessed, but I did enjoy seeing you brought to this state."
"You're quite sadistic aren't you?"
"I suppose I am for an "erudite" like yourself."
"More clever than you let on, too."
"Only when I need to be, lamb."
"Vexing as ever, but I can't say I haven't been charmed."
"I don't recall casting any kind of charm, but as fun as it is to play with frightened visitors to these grounds, I must go."
"Please, stay at my camp, it is not far!"
"An offer you don't quite know the full meaning of, but I cannot. You're heading to Ardount, no? I am simply traveling the other way for well over a fortnight. I cannot idle my sunrise away, however pleasant that would be."
Arlene was beginning to grow impatient. She was wary of such rapid attachment, especially from a woman who had simply been freely given and assumed into womanhood. Her unease continued to grow.
"Are you returning to Ardount by the next moon?" asked Vura, in desperation.
"I understand you want to see me, I am very flattered. I am not simply kept around for the sake of one's lust. Stop before you sour the taste of this evening altogether."
With a little bit of the ice in her last words hanging in the air, Arlene turned away and stepped into brush, though it more so appeared as if her form dissolved into the bramble and pine. Stunned, the holy woman rushed to the spot she believed Arlene to had disappeared, only to find no trace of her passage.
Dejected, she said softly, "I just thought it would be nice to have you accompany me."