Chapter 6: A Deal Struck
The temple air felt heavy, thick with incense and spent power. Rider stood silently at the chamber’s edge, her blindfolded gaze fixed on the scene before her. Saber, the legendary King of Knights, was on her knees before Caster’s throne. The proud line of Saber’s back was bent, her golden hair swaying as she moved between the sorceress’s thighs. A soft, wet, sucking sound punctuated the low hum of magical energy. It was wrong. It was impossible.
Medusa’s mind, always calculating, dissected the impossibility. The Saber class possessed the highest magic resistance. No spell should hold her, no enchantment bend that will. Yet here she was, servicing the Caster with a vacant devotion that turned Medusa’s stomach. How?
As if reading her thoughts, Caster let out a languid sigh, her fingers tangling in Saber’s hair to guide her rhythm. Her violet eyes slid to Medusa.
“See something you like, Rider? Or just something you don’t understand?”
“The latter,” Medusa’s voice was flat, betraying nothing. “Her Magic Resistance should render your compulsions inert.”
A low, throaty laugh escaped Caster. “Compulsion is such a crude word. I didn’t break her resistance. I circumvented it.” She shifted on her throne, pushing Saber’s head back gently. The former king looked up, lips glistening, eyes clouded with a need that wasn’t her own. “The body has desires separate from the spirit. The spirit resists. The body… learns to crave.”
To illustrate her point, Caster widened her thighs. She reached into the folds of her robe, and Medusa watched, unflinching, as the sorceress produced her answer. It was a thick, impressive length of flesh, already fully erect, emerging from between her legs. Over a foot long, it stood proud and blatant, a physical proof of her unnatural power. Saber’s eyes locked onto it, a shudder of raw hunger running through her frame.
“The mind can be made to follow where the body is led, repeatedly and thoroughly,” Caster purred, stroking herself idly. “Especially when led by a master of primal magecraft. Now. You didn’t come to admire my handiwork. You came for the Matou girl.”
Medusa’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Sakura.”
“Yes, dear Sakura. Rotting from the inside out thanks to that vile grandfather.” Caster leaned forward, her gaze sharpening. “The worms are eating her magic and her soul. She’s a leaky vessel, and you are a strain on her dwindling reserves just by existing. Soon, she won’t be able to sustain you. Then she’ll die.”
“I am aware of the situation,” Rider said, her voice like cold steel.
“But I can fix it.” Caster’s smile was a knife. “I can provide her with direct prana transfusions. Strong, pure energy to feed those nasty little parasites and keep them sated. It would stabilize her. Halt the degeneration.”
“The cost.”
“Always direct. I appreciate that.” Caster gestured with her free hand. “You will become my Servant for the duration of the War. I will use my Noble Phantasm, Rule Breaker, to sever the Command Seal contract binding you to her. The magical link for mana transfer will remain. You will draw your sustenance from her, as always, but the obligation of obedience transfers to me. She bears no more cost to sustain you than she would a familiar.”
Medusa processed this. Sakura would be freed from the strain of supporting a Servant’s combat functions. She would live. The price was her own servitude. “And the prana for Sakura? Your… transfusions. What is their cost?”
Caster’s smile widened. “For each session I provide to dear, sweet Sakura—and I promise to be generous, to fill her up until those worms are drowning in excess—you will service me three times.”
The silence that followed was dense. Saber, forgotten for a moment, nuzzled against Caster’s thigh, her breath hot.
“Servicing,” Medusa repeated.
“Fucking,” Caster clarified, her tone casual, obscene. “You will come to this chamber, you will kneel, or bend over, or present yourself however I wish, and you will take this cock until I am satisfied. Once. Twice. Three times. For every time I fuck prana into your precious Master. A simple equation.”
Medusa’s mind raced. Sakura’ suffering, a constant, quiet agony she witnessed every day. The creeping darkness in her eyes. The alternative was a slow, painful consumption. Here was a pact, vile in its terms, that offered survival. Her own dignity meant nothing. It had never meant anything. Only Sakura.
“You guarantee her stabilization?”
“I am a witch of betrayal, not a liar in a bargain,” Caster said, a hint of pride in her voice. “The magic is precise. She will be fed. She will be safe from the worms’ hunger. You have my word.”
Medusa looked past Caster, to Saber. The mighty king, now a pet. She looked at Caster’s member, the tool of that corruption. She thought of Sakura’s soft smile, the one that rarely reached her eyes anymore.
“Agreed.”
“Wonderful.” Caster stood, pushing Saber aside. The enslaved knight slumped to the floor, watching dully. Caster approached Rider, the impressive length of her cock bobbing with each step. The scent of her, of sex and ozone, was overwhelming. “We’ll seal the contract physically first. The magical one comes after. Consider this your first installment.”
Caster stopped inches away. “On your knees, Servant.”
Rider, taller, looked down at the sorceress for a long moment. Then, with the slow, deliberate motion of someone stepping off a cliff, she sank to her knees. The stone was cold through her leggings.
“Good.” Caster’s hand cupped her chin, forcing her head up. “Now, open that pretty, stern mouth of yours. Let’s see if you’re as composed when you’re gagging on me.”
Rider parted her lips. Caster didn’t hesitate. She guided the broad, bulbous head past Rider’s lips, pressing against her tongue. It was hot, skin smooth like velvet over iron, and it tasted of salt and magic. Medusa remained still, her hands flat on her thighs, as Caster pushed forward.
The invasion was immediate and profound. Caster fed her length in, not with brutal force, but with an inexorable, confident pressure. Medusa’s jaw ached as the thick shaft stretched her lips wide. She felt the head bump the back of her throat, and instinctively her body tensed, a soft gag reflex shuddering through her.
“Oh, you do have a throat,” Caster mocked, her fingers threading into Rider’s long lavender hair, mimicking her grip on Saber. “Now swallow. Take it. This is what you bought her life with.”
Caster thrust forward. The thick cock breached her throat, a sudden, impossible fullness. Rider’s vision swam behind her blindfold. Her body clenched, demanding air, as the sorceress hilated herself in her esophagus. Caster held there, buried to the hilt, Rider’s nose pressed into the wiry hair at her base.
She stayed for a count of five, letting Rider struggle silently, before pulling back until just the head remained. A string of saliva connected Medusa’s lips to the glistening shaft.
“Again,” Caster commanded, and plunged back in.
This time, she set a rhythm. Not fast, but deep and punishing. Each stroke pistoned her full length down Rider’s throat, the wet, choked sounds filling the chamber. Tears of strain welled in Medusa’s hidden eyes. Her own saliva dripped down her chin and onto her chest. She focused on the sound of Caster’s breathing, on the faint, smug hum the witch made.
“Use your tongue,” Caster gasped, her hips snapping harder. “Don’t just lie there like a dead thing. Serve.”
Rider forced her tongue to move, to press and curl along the veined underside of the shaft as it slid in and out. The taste was overwhelming, the feeling of total submission even more so. She was a weapon, reduced to this. A vessel for another’s pleasure.
Caster’s breaths grew sharper. Her grip in Rider’s hair became vicious. “Yes… just like that. You learn faster than the king did. Now take it… take your payment.”
With a final, deep grind, Caster stilled, hilted once more. A hot, violent pulse erupted in Rider’s throat as Caster came. The witch moaned, a sound of pure, triumphant gratification, as she pumped jet after jet of thick seed directly into Rider’s stomach. The volume was staggering, a flooding heat that made Rider’s own body clench in helpless response.
After what felt like an eternity, Caster slid out with a wet pop. Rider sagged forward, coughing, strings of cum and saliva drooling from her bruised lips onto the floor. She sucked in ragged, burning breaths.
Caster looked down at her, tucking her still-hard cock away. She reached out and patted Rider’s head, like one would a dog.
“Adequate. The contract is sealed in spirit. Tomorrow, I will visit Sakura with Rule Breaker. You will return here tomorrow night. We will begin your proper service then.” She turned, walking back to her throne where Saber waited, eyes hungry. “See her out, Saber.”
Saber rose, moving with robotic grace. She took Rider’s arm, helping her to her feet. Medusa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression once again a mask of ice. She had swallowed far more than just Caster’s spend; she had swallowed her pride, her freedom, for a few more drops of hope for the girl she loved.
As Saber led her to the temple door, Rider knew the calculations were only beginning. The cost was clear. Now, she had to ensure the price was worth it.
Now, she had to ensure the price was worth it.
The heavy temple door shut behind Rider with a final, hollow thud. Silence descended, broken only by the pop of incense embers and Saber’s quiet, expectant breathing. Caster leaned back against her throne, the afterglow of her orgasm still humming in her veins. She watched the empty space where Medusa had knelt, a slow smile spreading on her lips. Two legendary Servants, brought to their knees.
She turned her gaze to Saber.
The knight hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor. She knelt perfectly still, a statue of corrupted grace, her green eyes fixed on Caster with a devotion that was both terrifying and intoxicating. The look was a far cry from the defiant glare she’d first arrived with. That resistance had been chiseled away, orgasm by forced orgasm, until only this hungry need remained.
“You watched,” Caster stated, her voice echoing softly in the chamber.
“Yes, Master,” Saber whispered, the title no longer a curse but a confession.
“Did it excite you? Seeing proud Rider debase herself for a pathetic human girl?”
Saber’s brow furrowed slightly, as if the concept of analyzing her own feelings was foreign. “It… pleased me to see you served.”
“Simple creature.” Caster stood and stretched, the lines of her body elegant in the low light. She paced a slow circle around her kneeling knight. “But you’re not fully mine yet, are you? There’s a final piece of you holding back. A last, stubborn citadel of that famed loyalty.”
She stopped behind Saber, looking down at the nape of her neck, at the proud line of her spine. Her hand came to rest on Saber’s head, fingers threading through golden hair.
“Your master, that boy Shirou,” Caster mused, her thumb stroking Saber’s scalp. “You still feel the thread, don’t you? Faint, stretched thin, but it’s there. A little anchor in all this wonderful fog I’ve poured into you.”
Saber trembled under her touch. “I… I serve you.”
“You serve my cunt, and my cock,” Caster corrected, her voice dropping to a intimate murmur. “But your spirit still tethers elsewhere. We need to cut that last tie. Completely.” Her other hand slid down Saber’s armored back, tracing the seam of her plate. “I’ve taken your mouth. I’ve taken your cunt. I’ve painted your throat with my come.”
She leaned down, her lips close to Saber’s ear. “But I haven’t taken this. The last gate. The final surrender.”
Her hand slipped down, past the armored skirt, cupping Saber’s ass through the fabric. Saber gasped, a sharp intake of breath.
“You will give me your ass, Artoria,” Caster breathed, the command absolute. “You will beg for it. And when I’m buried inside you there, when I flood that last untouched place, even the ghost of your loyalty to him will drown.”
Saber didn’t speak. Her shoulders were tense, a last, flickering instinct of the king she had been. Caster’s fingers found the fastenings of her armor, and with a whispered spell, they came undone. The blue plates fell away, clattering softly on the stone floor, leaving Saber in just her dark undersuit. Caster tugged that down too, over the swell of her hips, until Saber was exposed from the waist down, kneeling bare-assed before the throne.
“Look at you,” Caster said, stepping back to admire the view. The powerful muscles of Saber’s thighs, the pale perfect curves of her buttocks. “The mighty king. Presenting for her true master. Get on the throne. On your hands and knees.”
Saber moved with fluid obedience. She climbed onto the large, cushioned throne, the fabric cool against her knees and palms. She positioned herself, back arched, head bowed, the offer clear. Her breath came in shallow, quick pulses.
Caster took her time. She retrieved a vial of oil, warming it with a spark of magic. She poured a generous amount into her palm, the slick sound loud in the quiet. She let her oiled hand slide over Saber’s rear, massaging the tense muscle, relishing the heat of her skin.
“You’re so tight here,” Caster whispered, coating the furled pucker between Saber’s cheeks. Saber flinched at the first touch, a full-body shudder. “So virgin. He never even dreamed of this, did he? Your precious boy-master. This is all for me.”
Caster positioned herself behind Saber, her own arousal now fully renewed, thick and aching. She pressed the broad, slick head of her cock against Saber’s resisting entrance. She applied pressure, a steady, inexorable force.
“Relax,” Caster commanded, her voice low. “You want this. You need to be filled. Tell me.”
A strangled sound escaped Saber’s throat. “I… I need it.”
“Need what?”
“I need you inside me,” Saber choked out, the words a brutal surrender. “Please, Master. Take it. Take my ass.”
“Good girl.”
Caster pushed.
The resistance was immense, a hot, clenching ring of muscle fighting the invasion. Saber cried out, a sharp, pained noise that echoed off the temple walls. Her knuckles turned white where she gripped the cushion. Caster didn’t stop. She leaned her weight forward, burying the thick head past the guarding ring. Saber gasped, her back arching violently.
“Fuck,” Caster groaned, the sensation of conquest electric. “Gods, you’re even tighter than I imagined.”
She began to move, shallow thrusts at first, each one stretching Saber wider, deeper. The oil eased the way, but the stretch was savage, overwhelming. Saber’s cries were muffled against the cushion, her body shaking with the effort to accommodate the enormous intrusion.
“That’s it,” Caster panted, her rhythm growing more confident, plunging deeper with each stroke. “Take your kingly reward. You’re mine here. This is where you belong.”
She fucked Saber’s ass with a relentless, pounding cadence. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, filthy sounds of penetration, filled the chamber. Saber’s protests melted into ragged moans, the line between pain and pleasure dissolving under Caster’s brutal rhythm. Her body began to move back, meeting Caster’s thrusts, a traitorous need taking root in her gut.
“Yes,” Caster hissed, her hands gripping Saber’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Give in to it. You’re a whore for my cock. Nothing else. Say it.”
“I’m your whore,” Saber sobbed, the words torn from her. “Only yours!”
Caster felt the orgasm build, a tidal wave of power and possession. She hammered into Saber, her thrusts becoming frantic, punishing. Saber was screaming now, a continuous, broken sound of ecstasy and ruin. The last mental image of Shirou’s face, of her oath, shattered like glass under the physical wreckage being wrought upon her body.
With a final, deep roar, Caster slammed home and came.
The release was volcanic, a rush of primal energy and claiming heat that poured into Saber’s deepest channel. She pumped her seed in deep, violent spurts, marking the last unconquered territory of the King of Knights. Saber convulsed beneath her, a shattered, mewling wreck, her own release wrenched from her by the sheer force of the violation.
Caster collapsed forward, spent, her body draped over Saber’s sweaty back. They stayed like that for long minutes, connected, the only sound their mingled, ragged breathing. The air smelled of sex, oil, and absolute victory.
Finally, Caster pulled out. Saber crumpled onto her side, a limp, used thing, her eyes vacant and wide.
Caster looked down at her, at the come leaking from her ravaged ass, and smiled. It was done. The tether was gone, severed not by magic, but by a more fundamental corruption. She ran a possessive hand over Saber’s flank.
“Sleep,” she commanded softly. “Tomorrow, we visit a girl with worms, and her very agreeable Servant. The War is looking up.”
Saber’s eyes fluttered shut, obedience her only remaining language. Caster looked toward the temple door, toward the city sleeping in the night, and let her plans unfold in the dark, satisfied silence.