The Burning

Chapter Thirteen



Deep in the Cathedral of the Scarlet Monastery, in the Crusader's Chapel, there was a room where Scarlet Commander Mograine and High Inquisitor Whitemane often spent their time as they attended to their duties. It was so far into the Monastery, that the sheer number of Crusaders one would have to fight through to get there made guarding it nonsensical and the act of a paranoid. Whitemane was most certainly paranoid, but she wasn't nonsensical. Thus when she needed some time alone, the only guard stationed outside the holy room was Mograine himself. He was all that was needed. At that moment, Whitemane was sitting on a stone bench, fingers of one red-gloved hand drumming impatiently on the edge of her seat, while her other hand toyed idly with a strand of the same white hair that had given her family its name. When a member of the Whitemane bloodline reached a certain age, their hair quickly changed from whatever color it had been before then, to white. Not premature graying hair, but actual whiteness. She knew that many men found her exotic hair color an added bonus to the rest of her good looks, not because anyone who valued their life had said so directly to her face, but because she was the High Inquisitor of the Scarlet Monastery, and she wouldn't be doing her job if she wasn't as familiar with the gossip of its membership, as she was with the pscyhological details needed to motivate and control each Crusader. Her memory was frighteningly accurate about such things, and she could recall entire conversations from years back at a moment's notice.



Right then, however, she was thinking not of how best to motivate the Crusaders, or who thought what about her hair color, or what percentage of the Monastery's male population would give their left eye to bed her, or anything so hopelessly irrelevant. She was in one her moods. Sally Whitemane had been running the Scarlet Crusade and its attempts to cleanse this diseased world she lived on of the plague of Undeath for years now, and though she knew what she and the other Crusaders were doing was right, and just, and that they had righteousness on their side, fighting against the endless tides of darkness, the shambling, rotting, cadaverous, plagued monsters that poured out of every nook and cranny, and the bowels of the planet itself... It made her feel tired. So very, very tired. She knew she didn't have time to be depressed, that she couldn't allow apathy to pull the strength from her hand as she meted out divine retribution to the living dead, and so tried to push on regardless. But some days, her difficulty finding motivation affected her more deeply than other times, and that was when she had to drink the Scarlet Elixir.



She had discovered it completely by accident. On a whim, she had decided to personally investigate reports of an unauthorized Alchemy laboratory in the Monastery. She located it by the faint smell of burning substances that were most definitely not incense, and had then taken a look around while she waited for the one operating the lab to return and receive their punishment for their transgressions. The smell of mixing chemical fumes had made her head spin, and her throat feel dry, and so she had taken a seat on a chair, and picked up a glass of red liquid that was sitting out on a table next to a pitcher of melon juice. She assumed the liquid had been poured from the pitcher, and so had gulped the entire glass down in one go. And that was when she found and it wasn't even close to being the juice of a melon.



Her conscious mind had exploded out of the shell of her body, hurtling her into a dimension beyond pleasure, beyond joy, beyond anything she had ever known. She saw the future as she had often dreamed it, but as a physical reality, rather than the imaginings of one sleeping. She saw a glorious paradise, in which all the plagued beasts, and fiends, and ghouls, and what-have-you were finally destroyed for good, all at the hands of her own Scarlet Crusade. There was peace across the planet, as all people lived devout lives of worship, and of dedication to the beliefs of the Crusade. She saw herself, a figure of crimson light, an avatar of divinity on Azeroth, dealing fairly with all, and keeping order in a world safe from the depravities of the Undead. She felt both physical and mental bliss at this vision, as she knew her dreams were truly possible. She felt like a thousand orgasms of the greatest intensity had been thrust upon her, all at once, and then stretched out over several hours.



When her euphoria faded, she found herself face to face with a panicked Mint Evarise shaking her and asking if she was okay. Whitemane had been a bit dazed still by her experience, but had the presence of mind to question Mint on what she had just imbibed. And then she discovered its name. The Scarlet Elixir. Mint said she had been taught how to make it years ago, but didn't remember all the instructions, and so had been experimenting, trying to complete it properly. It was, she claimed, a potion meant to soothe and heal the very soul. Whitemane had to agree that she certainly felt as though her soul had been healed, for months after that she had been in an excellent mood, and had been more dedicated than ever to achieving her dreams. But the depression had eventually returned, and she had sought Mint out, to have her prepare another dose.



At one point or another, after a year and a half of consuming the Scarlet Elixir regularly to stave off her worsening depression, she admitted to herself she was addicted to it, but she didn't care, as long as she was able to continue her glorious Scarlet Crusade. But now, as she waited for Mint to bring her a dose of the drug she desired, she grew impatient. She growled out, "Where is that girl?" to the empty room, and tried to find something to distract her from her brooding. She released the strand of white hair from between her red-silk covered fingers, and glanced down at herself, looking over her bountiful chest, straining with her her red, black, and gold tunic, and her smooth, bare, pale legs, hanging over the side of the bench. After a moment of consideration, she sighed, and said, "Oh, why not? It has been awhile."



Then she undid the clasp at the back of her neck, which held her outfit in place, as well as various other concealed buttons, and then pulled her tunic down, relishing the feel of the sleek cloth dragging overt the sensitive peaks of her chest, until the top rested bunched up about her waist, leaving her high, large, firm breasts exposed. Gloved fingers immediately came up and traced the curves of her soft tits, massaging them with her finger tips, and working her way inwards, until she seized both of her thick nipples between thumb and forefinger of each hand, and began to roll and tweak them. She watched her own hands at work for awhile, as her breath came faster, bolts of pleasure shooting through her fleshy mounds, as her nipples hardened, and they, along with the aureola surrounding them, turned dark red with lust. She let out a small groan as she pinched her sensitive teats, and decided she needed a bit more stimulation. She glanced in the direction of the door, hoping against hope to hear the sound of Mint's footsteps outside, but she heard nothing in the quiet of the Chapel's room except for her own labored breathing.



Frustrated, one hand reluctantly left an aching tit, and travelled down to pull aside the front flap of her tunic, and hang it over her left leg, leaving her scarlet panties exposed. They had semi-transparent designs in the fabric in front of the thong-like garment, revealing and concealing her sex simultaneously. There was no one else but her here to enjoy this, however, though if such a person had been present they most certainly would have admired the view as the High Inquisitor drew both of her red and black booted legs up into the air, spreading her thighs apart, and used her free hand to begin stroking her mound through the fabric of her underwear. The tips of her middle finger and index finger on her left hand ran back and forth over puffy, dark-pink nether lips, teasing forth the wetness of her arousal, while her right hand continued to squeeze and massage her right breast. Gradually, she became so wet from her building lust, that droplets of her juices managed to slip past the edge of her soaking, scarlet panties, and gathered on her inner thighs, before running down her skin, and falling to the stone floor, splashing there with quiet plipping noises.



Whitemane was, by this point, completely immersed in her endeavours, and made no effort to stay silent, as she moaned and cried out loudly at the feelings she was causing in her body by such simple touching and stroking. She knew Mograine was just outside, and could easily here her lusty noises echoing within the Chapel, but she didn't care. It wouldn't be the first time he had witnessed her in the throes of pleasure in this form, or others, and they both felt the same way on the subject. The pleasures of the body were far from being sinful, and were instead a gift from their creator, a way of bringing themselves closer to the Light, by lightening the spirit, and easing the burdens of daily life. Whitemane indeed felt close to heaven as she began rubbing vigorously over her swollen labia, and grinding her fingertips into her engorged clitoris, as a burning pleasure raged through her sex, and her breasts, and her entire body, immersing her in white-hot joy. Her breathing was fast and erratic as she let out short, sharp, cries of ecstasy as her manipulation of her own body brought her closer and closer to the edge.



Finally, the inevitable happened, and she arched her back, throwing her head back, as her red-painted lips formed an "O" and she let out a rising wail of pleasure as the fingers of one hand pinched her right nipple, and the fingers of her other hand rubbed directly on her love button so rapidly her hand was a blur, until her entire body was thrown into jerking spasms, her mind whiting-out as she orgasmed, all the stress, all the anxiety, all the depression vanishing, and she gave several more strangled cries as she slowly came down from her cloud, and bent forward, panting heavily. She basked in the warmth of her post-orgasm bliss for a little while, and just tried to gather her wits, but that brief respite, as sweet as it had been, was merely temporary, and within ten minutes her depression was upon her again, weighing down on her, crushing her with responsibility.



Gritting her teeth, Sally got up off the bench, and walked over to a section of the floor with a soft red carpet on it, hooking her thumbs into the waist band of her red thong, and wiggling it down her hips, letting it drop to the floor, before stepping out of it. She then got down on all fours on the carpet, before using only one hand to prop herself up, and sending the other around back to rub her dripping sex, trying to bring herself back into a state of arousal sufficient to ward off that dark depression for a little while longer. It didn't take long before she was moaning again, rocking her hips back and forth instinctively as her fingers played over her sex lips, allowing more and more of her love juices to pour forth, dripping on the red carpet beneath her. The feelings combined with her previous orgasm weakened her to the point where she could no longer support herself with her hand on the floor, and had to bend forward, propping herself up on her forearm. She laid her head down on the carpet, and looked back with her red eyes in the direction of the door. Her sex was pointed directly at the entrance, and if someone came in right then, they would get quite an eyefull. Whitemane didn't care. She was too far gone.



Her breathing was becoming ragged again, as rivulets of feminine lubricants streamed down her inner thighs, and sweat rolled down her breasts, and other parts of her body, from the effort she was putting forth, but she wasn't ready yet to obtain her release. She wanted to put as much into this as she could, to drag it out as long as possible, to stave off the weight of duty. So she introduced a new factor into the equation, and with one of her fingers she worked at her tight anus, until she could wiggle a finger in and out. This was not one of her holes she regularly toyed with, so it was a bit odd, yet still satisfying in a way. She continued to play in that vicinity for awhile, maintaining her arousal, but not driving it to its peak. Eventually, however, she needed something more, having tormented herself long enough, and rested her weight on her chest and one shoulder as she reached her other hand around and begin pumping her fingers in an out of her wet snatch, groaning loudly at the penetration, and then she began fingering both holes at the same time.



The feeling was glorious, and she rocked back and forth on her soft mounds, rubbing her painfully sensitive nipples into the rough carpet while she screwed herself with her fingers, shuddering and jolting at the combination of stimuli, until she whimpered, feeling herself building up once more. This time it was far more intense, and she could feel a pressure inside of her, almost as though she had to pee, though she knew this was not the cause of the feeling. She also knew not to hold back, and let the pleasure crash down on her like a tsunami, the muscles of her pussy spasming wildly around her fingers, her anus tightening about her other finger, and a long scream of bliss erupted from her, as at the same time a stream of creamy girl-cum shot out of her explosively, spraying the already wet carpet beneath her, and turning its bright red coloration to a darker shade. The feeling of releasing female ejaculate was electric, magnifying her pleasure many times over, until she couldn't even see what her red eyes were looking at, because her brain was shutting down.



Finally it all came to a halt, and she realized she'd been holding her breath after her scream for quite some time, and released it, gasping in great lungfulls of precious air, trying to replace the lost oxygen. She was still shivering from the intensity of the experience when she started struggling to get up off the floor, bending her will to forcing her weakened limbs to respond, until she was once more on her feet, though a bit unsteady. She looked at her gloved hands, and saw the bright red fabric was stained dark crimson with her juices. She licked and sucked at the gloves, relishing her own flavor, as her eyes flitted up to the door of the Chapel. She waited, but no one came through. As mind-blowingly powerful as that orgasm had been, it wasn't the same as the euphoria of the Scarlet Elixir, and the High Inquisitor felt like crying as she sensed the shadowy, spidery presence of her depression start to creep its way back into her thoughts.



Instead she sighed, converted her sadness to anger, and growled as she strode towards the altar in as stable a manner as she could. As the chill air of the Chapel stroked over her still-hot sex, the copious amounts of juices soaking her inner-thighs, and the sweat on the rest of her, leeching away warmth from her body, Sally Whitemane cursed to herself and asked of no one in particular, "Where is that thrice-damned Mint Evarise with my Elixir!?" As she leaned on the altar with both hands, white hair hanging about her face, she closed her eyes, and let her anger smoulder for awhile. There would be a punishment most dire for this tardiness.



In the meantime, one of Whitemane's hands left the altar, and sought out her engorged clit once more, as she began the pointless ritual of staving off the inevitable for a third time.



--------------End Chapter Thirteen--------------