Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

Lifting up her partner’s pale thigh, one that had never seen the light of the sun, Eldura’s lower lips met with Asphodel’s.

Rubbing the two together felt divine.

She could feel the blonde witch’s clitoris grow even more erect as it rubbed against her own labia, something that was reciprocated. Thrusting their hips together, she could feel her partner enter her, delicately rubbing her opening in a way it had never been done before.

With every pump, the two groaned in pleasure. Gasps slid from their lips as they mutually felt the same experience, tying them even closer than ever. With Eldura taking the lead up top, she enjoyed seeing her partner’s breasts heave, something the blonde witch shared some insecurities about, now free from both physical and emotional restraints. Her pink nipples traced circles in the air, begging to be suckled upon.

While her abs were visible, the dark haired witch rarely exercised, something she demonstrated with her panting not even a minute into the scissoring. But she soldiered on, determined to let her partner reach new heights, to show how much they have grown to trust each other.

“Harder, babe! Harder!” Asphodel held onto the last note, dragging it out into a moan. The bed beneath them creaked with every thrust and reciprocal push back, the piece of furniture bearing the brunt of the two women seeking to push their pussies into one another.

Obliging to her partner’s requests, Eldura panted as she rubbed their clits together, both soaked in both their own and each other’s love juices. The two lips slicked past one another, a sloppy kiss, hungry to devour the other to push the other to their heights of ecstasy.

“Babe! Babe-!” The dark haired witch gasped, finally out of breath, “I- I love you!”

Part of her could not believe she both came to that conclusion and actually admitted it. But that part was far away, pushed back by the torrent of carnal lust.

With one final grind, Eldura had enough. Muscles gave out, air was nowhere to be found and her clit was growing sore from their previous lovemaking. Her grip slipped from the supple thigh, causing her to fall down, thankfully past her lover and land shoulder first by her side.

The two women panted, smiles wide, as Asphodel grabbed the onomancer by the back of her head and ferociously dragged her in for a kiss. They met not only their mouths, but their lower lips as well, still drenched from the edging against each other.

“You’re so cute…” The flowery witch poked her partner’s long nose, her face drenched in a rosy flush from the exertion she just endured.

Eldura froze.

That- that’s it?

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She trusted everything to this woman: her full name, her patron, her paintings, her emotions, her time, her energy… Her love. And all she got was ‘You’re so cute…’?

Continuing as if a life shattering event did not just occur, Asphodel continued the meeting of both pairs of lips. She moaned as she continued to ride the high they both were just on, not noticing she was alone now.

Pieces began to click together in Eldura’s mind: aside from her first name, she knew next to nothing about the other witch. No history, no field of magicks, not even the name of the being she formed a pact with, everything she had given over almost too easily. She thought she was being guarded the whole time, but failed to notice that her partner was even more so.

“Asphodel.” Her voice was cold. Hard enough to knock the other woman out of her sexual moaning, “Who even are you?”

“Why, I’m your lover, aren’t I?” The blonde witch smiled, her alluring grin now a bed of thorns, “Isn’t that what you want to hear, my dear?”

Hearing the honeyed words and overwhelming scent of flowers, Eldura’s mind grew blank. Her eyes emptied out all emotion, every trace of anger, suspicion and pain left, only to be replaced with unbridled joy.

“That’s right, my dear Asphodel…”

- - - - 

Taking shelter from yet another rainstorm, Sara was already missing Alzahett.

When it rained there, sure, the storms were long, usually lasting a week or so, but it was consistent throughout. Here, she had counted eighty times in anywhere of two to five minute bursts in a single day.

Few landmarks were even distinguishable within the verdant maze they now had spent three days in since departing Altenheim. Greedy jungle plants marred any sense of direction, even obstructing their path on frequent occasion, almost leading her to believe this was some form of divine punishment, an unwinnable trial either for all the men she killed with her body, both in this life and the last.

It was maddening.

Bellamy endured her own personal hell, trying her best to hide from the falling death, each drop of rain running through her permeable body like a nail through wood.

The only one who seemed uncomfortable, yet fine, was Ashara. Her clothes certainly looked rough, but overall she was not being killed by the sky nor starving to death.

“Are we sure we still need to go after the witch?” Sara asked, her body beyond sore from the walking and the injuries sustained. Bellamy was somehow able to stop the bleeding by using a part of herself, something the succubus would be disgusted by if not for her diet of male essence.

Ashara turned around, warming her hands by the fire they thankfully did not need resources for. “Of course we do! Not only is she messing with my work, but she also knows your full name, remember?”

An evil smirk stretched between the two red circles on her cheeks, “After all, now that you’re not my familiar, she could make you do all sorts of things with her unbridled access to your soul!”

“Why hasn’t she done anything with it yet, then?”

The tiny witch shrugged, “I’unno! But we need to be careful with two untamed monsters running about, perfectly exposed for an onomantic assault!” She waggled her fingers to accentuate her point at the end.

“Bellamy, don’t give any witch your full name. Take it from me.” The succubus looked over at the quivering slime woman, trying to draw herself in as much as she could into the tiny shelter they appropriated.

As miserable as she looked, the female-shaped hulk of goop barely spoke up, “M-my full name?”

Sara felt bad for her. Not only did she get reborn into this world as a gender swapped monster, something that has been growing increasingly common it seemed, but she gained sentience in a literal minefield. “Never mind that. Why don’t you tell us about where you’re from, Bell?”

“B-Bell?” The slime withdrawing herself from her misery to question.

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘Amy’?”

Violently shaking her head, the alchemist’s ‘hair’ whipped around before snapping back into shape, “H-heavens no! L-Let’s just continue with Bellamy, please?”

The former familiar shrugged, remembering her own identity crisis she had at what felt like yet another lifetime ago, “Whatever works for you.”

“As far as wh-where I’m from…” Bellamy began to muse, her giant hand pressing against her lips, “I don’t exactly have a frame of reference to even tell where, or even when, we are…”

Sara looked over to the witch, hoping she would assist. Bearing witness to yet another shrug, the succubus sighed, “The current year is 1,247 E.A.”

“E.A.?” The slime mimicked.

“E.A., Emperor’s Ascent. The date since the God Emperor slayed Alzahett and established Sunsword. It’s been accepted as a universal reference date, unless you live in fucking Svetania.” Old wounds reopened in Sara’s mind. She shuddered, thankfully pushing them back where they laid dormant once more.

“God Emperor? Svetania and Alzahett, like the goddesses?” Bellamy’s eye grew wide. She did not need to breathe, but her chest quickly lifted up and down, most likely a hold over out of habit.

Sarakiel looked to Ashara once more, this time finding her turned away. “Well, at least you know that much… We’re currently in Beluit, named after yet another goddess.”

The slime nodded quickly, “I- I get that. But you said Alzahett was killed? How is that possible?!”

“Twelve hells. First witches, now this basic history lesson? Where the fuck are you from, slime?”

Bellamy held herself close once more, this time not in an attempt to hide from the rain. “I am from… Zoh.” It took a second to recall, but the name had little meaning to Sara.

“Gonna need more than that.” Crossing her arm, the succubus tried her best to follow along.

“You have never heard of Zoh? Then it is plain to see how you’ve never heard of an alchemist before…” Bellamy weighed out how to continue to define herself, “I-I never met her before, but stories of people meeting Svetania were common throughout the land. Does that help?”

A grimmace appeared on Sara’s face, “Plenty.”

“I- I also, back in my old body, looked like your ‘witch’ friend over there, a-a man, of course.” The slime pointed a large finger at Ashara, who had since turned around and rejoined the conversation.

“You were also related to halflings?” Sara joked before being answered by a pout from the tiny witch.

“H-halflings?” Bellamy asked once again, the confusion as palpable as her slime body, “You are telling me there are people born without legs and walk around?”

Ashara could not hold in her laughter. Even Sara barely could stifle a chuckle, “What? What the fuck? Where did you get that from?”

“Well, what else could it mean? How could someone be half a person?”

Succubus Sarakiel could barely believe what she was hearing.

“Okay, I know for a fucking fact they have fucking halflings in Svetania!” Sara laughed for the first time since she was reborn. Her sides hurt before, but now they burned with every convulsion.

Looking between the doubled over succubus and the witch who had confined herself upon the ground, Bellamy began to panic. “Wh-what is a ‘halfling’?! Is it a half-person creature? Tell me!”

It took a solid three minutes before Sara could speak.

“Twelve hells, Bell! I need to take you out for a fucking drink after that one!”

Bellamy’s fists clenched in anger, each fist capable of grabbing Sara and lifting her. “I- I am not making a jest! I do not know what a blasted halfling is!”

“Ooh!” Ashara finally chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at the slime, her other hand covering her mouth as if finding out some scandalous information, “Bell-Bell said a swear! I thought you were a ‘humble alchemist’?”

If the slime had any of it’s own blood coursing inside of it, it would congregate in her face, “I am! And, pray tell, who is ‘Bell-Bell’? Surely not I!”

Sara needed this.

Being dragged on adventure after adventure with little time between let her have fun with friends like this. The elves in her house were pleasant, but too up tight. This was a group that felt like she was back in the barracks once more.