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Description

    The bindings cut deeply into her wrists. The damnable draconians had had the wherewithal to detect and remove all her jewelry, including her magical bracers and her pearl necklace. Without them, she could withstand a modicum of heat and cold, even a minor electrical shock or two, but her defense against physical attacks was non-existent. Too bad the high priest of this evil sect wasn’t going to use fire to cut her heart out. They had also used something she’d never seen before, some spell that trapped her in the form she had been in at the time, a human female.

    That wasn’t what she was, though she was that more than she was anything else. She could be male, female, orc, lizardman, whatever suited her taste,… or she could do other things,… but she didn’t want to think about any of that just now. It always got her too excited. And she definitely didn’t want to get excited chained to a slab, waiting to be sacrificed to these monsters’ damnable God,… some chest puffing dragon, no doubt. The draconians were twisted enough. She could see one of the male draconians smelling her arousal and deciding that they needed to gang rape her before they cut her heart out. Damn, there she went again. Stop that. They say when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Oh well, if she was going to get all horny, might as well do it over the really fun stuff.

    Seraphus of Hypatia was born to her station, or ‘herm station’ if s/he wanted to use the correct pronoun. Her teachers often told her she was just slow, a little dim, that she couldn’t wrap her tongue around the correct pronunciation. She preferred to wrap her tongue around her teachers, actually. She was one of the True Hermaphrodites. More than that, though, she was one of the chosen ones, a True Herm born on the Isle of Hypatia, a holy site in the Church of Aphrodite second only to Hermaphros itself. She was raised in the church, taught the ways of love and sex, and the subtle differences between the two. She studied the many names of love, and the more populace names of sex.

    When she was old enough, she set out on a pilgrimage. She visited Hermaphros, as all priestesses of Aphrodite must at least once, and learned even more of her heritage. Then, she went forth to spread love and beauty to all, and her legs to more than a few. She learned of the plight of slaves in Viridia and the recent annexation of Maeceyea. So, she set out for the south lands to aid where she could, a humble travelling healer and companion. But not everyone wants to hear religious platitudes, even when they come with honeyed words that fall from luscious lips. And a few even refuse the touch of great beauty when it stands before them.

    She learned to copy the forms of others, learned their languages and ways, even experimented with their mating customs and practices. Orcs from the Khangan Empire, Wood Elves from Cantellzan, Lizardmen and Trolls from the swamps, Goblins and Ogres in the high mountains. She even did a Deurgar or three (dozen). But she’d never counted on running afoul of a tribe of draconians in the jungle peaks of Maeceyea. She cursed her luck, as well as her spell selection. Of course, her innate abilities at understanding new races would allow her to add draconian to her list of Erotic species,… given time. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem the dragon-men cared to allow her that time.

    She was ministering to a band of recently escaped slaves, helping them to cross the mountains into Atheae where they might be safe from Viridian soldiers and Maeceyan slavers. Of course, aiding them in ways other than just medicine made the trip that much more fun for everyone. She didn’t even have to use Orgy spells,… not that she had one. Best she could manage so far was a Ménage-a-Trois spell. Her mere presence in the camp each night seemed to draw the poor, needy dears to her pavilion. So many needing so much tender attention. But that was her plight, her task, her calling in life. Too bad it wasn’t fighting.

    The warriors in the camp had held off several assaults on their journey north. But even Sera’s exceptional magic could only heal so much so fast. She’d resorted to Erotic magius consumption to restore her fading magius each night. But her ever willing flock soon ran out of juice as well. They were all of them drained and some were walking wounded when the draconians found them near the high pass of Nistachori. She feared that even if they were all fully healed and perfectly healthy, they’d still have lost that fight. Being something of an amazing sight, even in a land where so many True Herms and worshippers of Aphrodite could be found, the draconians seized upon her as a special prize. She was expecting to be led to their leader, some human warlord or half-dragon mage, to be added to his harem or sold as a sex slave in Viridia. She hadn’t expected to be served up as a dragon’s afternoon snack. Oh no. Maybe the dragon was the one that was going to rape her? Good thing she had her Deeper spell prepared.

Description

    The bindings cut deeply into her wrists. The damnable draconians had had the wherewithal to detect and remove all her jewelry, including her magical bracers and her pearl necklace. Without them, she could withstand a modicum of heat and cold, even a minor electrical shock or two, but her defense against physical attacks was non-existent. Too bad the high priest of this evil sect wasn’t going to use fire to cut her heart out. They had also used something she’d never seen before, some spell that trapped her in the form she had been in at the time, a human female.

    That wasn’t what she was, though she was that more than she was anything else. She could be male, female, orc, lizardman, whatever suited her taste,… or she could do other things,… but she didn’t want to think about any of that just now. It always got her too excited. And she definitely didn’t want to get excited chained to a slab, waiting to be sacrificed to these monsters’ damnable God,… some chest puffing dragon, no doubt. The draconians were twisted enough. She could see one of the male draconians smelling her arousal and deciding that they needed to gang rape her before they cut her heart out. Damn, there she went again. Stop that. They say when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Oh well, if she was going to get all horny, might as well do it over the really fun stuff.

    Seraphus of Hypatia was born to her station, or ‘herm station’ if s/he wanted to use the correct pronoun. Her teachers often told her she was just slow, a little dim, that she couldn’t wrap her tongue around the correct pronunciation. She preferred to wrap her tongue around her teachers, actually. She was one of the True Hermaphrodites. More than that, though, she was one of the chosen ones, a True Herm born on the Isle of Hypatia, a holy site in the Church of Aphrodite second only to Hermaphros itself. She was raised in the church, taught the ways of love and sex, and the subtle differences between the two. She studied the many names of love, and the more populace names of sex.

    When she was old enough, she set out on a pilgrimage. She visited Hermaphros, as all priestesses of Aphrodite must at least once, and learned even more of her heritage. Then, she went forth to spread love and beauty to all, and her legs to more than a few. She learned of the plight of slaves in Viridia and the recent annexation of Maeceyea. So, she set out for the south lands to aid where she could, a humble travelling healer and companion. But not everyone wants to hear religious platitudes, even when they come with honeyed words that fall from luscious lips. And a few even refuse the touch of great beauty when it stands before them.

    She learned to copy the forms of others, learned their languages and ways, even experimented with their mating customs and practices. Orcs from the Khangan Empire, Wood Elves from Cantellzan, Lizardmen and Trolls from the swamps, Goblins and Ogres in the high mountains. She even did a Deurgar or three (dozen). But she’d never counted on running afoul of a tribe of draconians in the jungle peaks of Maeceyea. She cursed her luck, as well as her spell selection. Of course, her innate abilities at understanding new races would allow her to add draconian to her list of Erotic species,… given time. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem the dragon-men cared to allow her that time.

    She was ministering to a band of recently escaped slaves, helping them to cross the mountains into Atheae where they might be safe from Viridian soldiers and Maeceyan slavers. Of course, aiding them in ways other than just medicine made the trip that much more fun for everyone. She didn’t even have to use Orgy spells,… not that she had one. Best she could manage so far was a Ménage-a-Trois spell. Her mere presence in the camp each night seemed to draw the poor, needy dears to her pavilion. So many needing so much tender attention. But that was her plight, her task, her calling in life. Too bad it wasn’t fighting.

    The warriors in the camp had held off several assaults on their journey north. But even Sera’s exceptional magic could only heal so much so fast. She’d resorted to Erotic magius consumption to restore her fading magius each night. But her ever willing flock soon ran out of juice as well. They were all of them drained and some were walking wounded when the draconians found them near the high pass of Nistachori. She feared that even if they were all fully healed and perfectly healthy, they’d still have lost that fight. Being something of an amazing sight, even in a land where so many True Herms and worshippers of Aphrodite could be found, the draconians seized upon her as a special prize. She was expecting to be led to their leader, some human warlord or half-dragon mage, to be added to his harem or sold as a sex slave in Viridia. She hadn’t expected to be served up as a dragon’s afternoon snack. Oh no. Maybe the dragon was the one that was going to rape her? Good thing she had her Deeper spell prepared.