O Happy Dagger: Five

NSFW Content Warnings

Dubious Consent ❤ Sadism/Masochism ❤ F/F ❤ Amputation ❤ Bloodplay ❤ Breast Torture ❤ Creampie (no impreg) ❤ Degrading Language ❤ Girldick ❤ Hair/Horn Pulling ❤ Kicking ❤ Penetrative Sex ❤ Penis-in-vagina Sex ❤ Physical Restraint ❤ Rough Sex ❤ Scratching ❤ Sensory Deprivation (Blindfold) ❤ Slapping ❤ Telepathy

In the light of the morning, Athame's nighttime outburst felt childish. She could hardly even remember why she'd done it. She was anxious about re-masculinization, but she'd been feminizing for years and a few weeks of male energy wouldn't reverse that. She was ashamed of abusing her goddess, but she wasn't her goddess yet; just a vessel who enjoyed the things Athame did to her. If someday The Devouring Light decided to punish Athame for her impertinence, that was up to her. The goddess would decide upon and impose the punishment, and it was pure hubris for Athame to try and do it for her.

Basmir was due to be back today. He might've even arrived last night and was already waiting for her, and the thought of what he'd brought back from the city made her jittery. But first she'd have breakfast and get Sheath woken up and ready. And after…there was one more thing that needed to be taken care of before she could bring Sheath to town.


Two things.

* * *

Athame made sure that Sheath's blindfold was secure, then held a leather strap to her mouth. "Bite down on this if you need to."


"I don't know enough about your physiology to say if this will hurt. If you're like a deer, it won't. If you're like a cow, it will." But she suspected it would. She expected blood and pain. She didn't want to do this, not really. It didn't please her to mutilate her goddess. But a dark part of her was interested. To see how she reacted. To see how far she would let Athame go. And it wouldn't be permanent, after all. The goddess would be able to grow them back, the same way she'd grow back an arm or a leg.

Sheath closed her mouth around the leather and wrung her hands together.

Athame focused on the tool in her hand. The thing she'd had Basmir retrieve. Her party hadn't had a bone saw on hand. She prepared herself to use it, steeling her nerves. She imagined it: serrated edge slicing through layers of keratin until it hit the core. Blood, though she wasn't sure how much to expect, leaking from the living bone. The goddess's muffled screams as she bit down on the leather strip. Anticipation felt like ice in her veins.

She grabbed a horn in a firm grip and the goddess whimpered. "Hold still," the priestess warned. "As still as you can. I don't want to slip."

Sheath tried to nod, found she couldn't, and made a small noise of assent instead. She was shaking. Athame placed the blade against her horn and a small sob escaped her.

"You're so fucking pretty when you're whimpering and cowering," Athame said. "Are you afraid of the pain?"

"N-nuh…" She was already biting down on the strap.

"You don't need to lie to me, darling," she said sweetly. "I already know you're not my goddess, you don't have to pretend."

"…Yesh…" she admitted.

"I'll be quick about it. The blade is quite sharp! It should only take, oh…three or four cuts to get all the way through."

Sheath moaned in anguish, not reassured.

"And don't worry about them growing back; we'll only have to do this once. I had something special made for you." Athame pictured the bronze horn-caps, with sharpened threads on the inside. Screwed on tightly to the stumps of the goddess's horns, they should effectively keep them from regrowing. "I think they'll be quite comfortable," she lied. There was nothing special about them that would actually negate regeneration, just a suffocating pressure. A constant reminder that Sheath was under her mistress's heel.

The goddess was breathing rapidly, almost hyperventilating. Athame looked down. There was glistening liquid running down Sheath's naked thigh. Athame's dick throbbed, and she felt faint and giddy; she'd been halfway to an erection herself, but this

"Is this making you wet!?" Her voice was filled with mocking scorn.


"Having the symbols of your divinity forcibly amputated?" She shook the goddess by the horn she was still holding. "Being mutilated? Blood and pain?" Yes! So much! Mark me! Shape me! Make me yours! "Maybe I'll fuck you when I'm done. Would that make you feel better? A nice big serving of manna?"

"Mmmm! Nnng!" Please, please, please, please!

"Enough anticipation," Athame growled and gripped the horn firmly. Sheath went stiff, muscles tensed as tightly as they could, jaw clenching as she bit down on the leather. Something rough scraped against the base of her horn and she cried out into the leather strap. Twice. Three times. Athame snapped something around it. She let go and walked to the other side as Sheath heaved breaths through her nose. Again the firm grip, again the scrape: once, twice, three times. Something snapped around the remaining horn. Athame let go. Sheath slumped.

Something jingled.

It seemed to take the goddess a moment to realize that after all that, the only pain she'd felt had been imagined. "Nngh?" she groaned in confusion.

"Oh, did it not hurt? More like a deer than a cow after all, I suppose. There's a mirror here; take off your blindfold and have a look." Athame couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

Sheath tentatively removed it and looked in the mirror. Her horns were intact. Golden rings like bracelets had been clipped around them and connected with chains hung with tiny bells and reflective bangles. The additions converted her unnatural horns into a gaudy, but mundane, headdress. She looked up at Athame and saw that at some point the priestess had put on a similar headdress, made from a pair of animal horns and similarly decorated. The tool in her hand was a file, not a saw.

"I think it's pretty effective. People might think we're some kind of fanatics, but honestly that will make them less inclined to believe that you're an actual divinity."

Sheath's eyes began to well up with tears. The leather strip fell out of her mouth. "Mistress, I…" She gasped and struggled to speak. "Fuck me, please!"

A sharp grin spread across Athame's face. "I let you keep your horns, and you still want more from me?"

"Yesss…I'm sorry…"

"Greedy slut! Maybe you'd prefer it the other way around! Would you let me take your horns if it meant that I'd fuck you?"

"Nng! I…I…" she stuttered, visibly struggling to decide. "Yes! Yes, you can take them! Just, please, your dick, I need it!"

Athame reeled. It was too much. Something inside her sharpened to a point, and liquid leaked from her aching cock. She growled, reached out, grabbed the goddess by the horns, and yanked her forward off her knees. Sheath yelped and flailed helplessly for a moment, the bells on her horns jingling, then Athame let go and she fell to the ground. She started to push herself up again, but Athame put a boot on the back of her head and pressed her to the ground.

"Mng! Mis…tress…" Athame pressed harder. "Anngh!"

"Do you even want to be a goddess? Do you just want to be a fucktoy forever?"

"Oh f-fuck…" she groaned. "Yes…yes…My Mistress's Sheath…forever…" Face to the floor, she reached down between her legs and worked at her cunt.

Athame sneered down at her. "I couldn't stomach actually cutting them off, but seeing you like this I can hardly imagine why. You're so fucking desperate to be debased."

"Hurrrrrrt meeeeee…"

"Ugh." Athame lifted her boot off her head, stepped around her, and kicked her solidly in the ribs. She shrieked and rolled onto her side, curled in a ball, bells jangling. Athame tossed her cock ring onto the ground and started pulling off her clothes; Sheath snatched it up and eagerly put it into her mouth. Athame glanced down and saw the goddess staring at her, bright eyes unblinking, taking in every inch of her body. She had no idea what Sheath saw that was so enthralling; whether it was her slim waist, her strong shoulders, her full breasts, her gorgeous cock. Athame shook her head and tried to remember what she'd been thinking. Maybe she was worth looking at.

She finished disrobing, came back, wordlessly reached into Sheath's mouth, yanked the ring out, and slid it onto her dick. Pre-cum beaded at the tip and dripped down the length of her shaft. That done, she put her clawed gauntlets back on.


"Oh? Do you like these?" She flexed the claws toward Sheath.


Athame bent down, grabbed Sheath by the ankles, and dragged her back into the center of the tent. She lowered herself to the floor and Sheath squirmed into position, spreading her legs wide. Careful of her claws, Athame put her cock into position and slid it in gently, easily. The goddess let out a long, satisfied moan.

Leaving her dick inside, Athame reached down and trailed her claws across the goddess's skin. She shivered and gasped. Athame pressed a little harder, lightly scratching her from collar to pelvis.

"Hurt—" she started to beg, but was cut off by Athame lightly swatting her across the face.

"Shut the fuck up. I'll hurt you when I'm good and ready." Sheath groaned and squirmed, but didn't say anything more. Athame pressed one claw into her breastbone and dragged it down all the way to her crotch, drawing a white line down her torso that slowly turned red. She did it again, harder, and the goddess groaned, her pussy clenching down. She did it again, still harder, breaking the skin this time. A strangled cry escaped from between Sheath's clenched teeth. Droplets of blood leaked from the long cut. Athame put her claw back into position and held it there for a moment, allowing the anticipation to build.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Sheath moaned, gasping for breath between words.

Athame cut her again before the wound could heal, smearing the blood that was already leaking out. Sheath went rigid as she was cut, a long, ragged breath rattling in her throat, then limp when her priestess finished.

Athame licked blood off the gauntlet, savoring the divinity within it. The magic was like a warm ember rather than the electric sparks suspended in her manna, and tasted altogether more wholesome. "You like that?"

Sheath nodded, eyes half closed and rolled up into her head. The cut began to heal itself.

Athame leaned forward, supporting herself with one arm and starting to slowly thrust in and out. Each movement forced pretty little noises out of the goddess, a musical accompaniment to the ringing of the bells they both still wore. She brought her gauntleted hand up to Sheath's breast.

Her eyes opened wide and she clamped down on Athame's cock. "Oh shit," she whispered.

"Hearing you curse like that is really something. Those filthy words in your holy voice." She squeezed her breast gently, claws digging into the flesh, and the goddess gasped. "Let me hear some more."

"Ah…uh…sh-shit. Fuck! Please, please, fuck!" Athame squeezed her breast and twisted, as though pain were a reward for following orders. "Aaaaaah! Aaahh…ooooohhhh…fffffuh…"

"A little more variety, please. If I can't debase you by taking your horns, maybe I can at least take some of the sunlight from your voice."

"Dick! Cock! C-cunt! Bii…iiiitch," she cried out between gulps of air. "Please, please!" The priestess lowered her mouth to Sheath's other breast, sucked the nipple into her mouth, and bit down. "Fuck! Ohh, please, mistress, please fuck my bitch cunt with your dick!" Using her mouth and hand, Athame pulled back on both breasts, stretching them up, teeth and claws piercing the supple skin. "Aah! Aaahh!" She let go, and the goddess's breasts fell back to her chest with a slap. Her skin was red and oozed from where the sharp claws had drawn blood.

"Are you a goddess?"

"N-no, mistress." Athame started fucking her harder. "I'm—just—a—fuck—toyyyyy!"

"Then why the fuck!? Do you still sound. Like. That?" She punctuated her words by ramming her dick deep.

"Sorry! S-sorry, m-mistress! I don't…I'll…I-I…" Her luminous eyes searched Athame's face for an answer that wasn't there. She closed her eyes and swallowed, and Athame slowed her thrusts as she concentrated.

"Pl—Please. Mistress. Please fuck my bitch cunt with your dick…"

"Goooood…" Athame purred. "Try it again."

"Please fuck my biiiiitch cunt with your di-ick…"

"One more time…"

"Please fuck my bitch! Cunt! With your dick!"

The difference was subtle, but distinct. Her voice sounded the same; the change was somewhere between ear and brain. It was the difference between seeing the goddess walking in sunlight and in the shade. If such a distinction could exist in something audible.

"Good girl! What a good bitch! You want me to fuck you hard?"

"Fuck yes! Please, mistress, yes!"

Athame hooked her arms under the backs of the goddess's knees, lifted them up, and bent her almost in half, using the additional leverage to pound her harder and faster. Sheath's hands clenched, nails scraping the canvas as she sought something to grab onto. She threw her head back, gasping and moaning as each thrust forced the breath from her lungs.


Athame was breathing hard herself, biting down on her own girlish moans. "What are you…thanking me fo-oor?" she managed to get out.

"Fucking…me hard. Letting me…keep my… horns. Tha-aa-ank you!"

"Of course! You've been…such a…go-ood girl…" She should elaborate. Say something about…handles. Convenient handles. But she was getting close, and banter was getting harder and harder to reach for. "Go-od! Girl!" she repeated.

"Cumming!" Sheath gasped. "I'm cumming!"

"Me too," Athame groaned. Sheath went still and her pussy started to spasm; soft, needy muscle pulsing around Athame's dick, practically milking her, pulling her over the edge along with the goddess. Athame thrust deep and came with her, pumping what felt like a week's worth of manna into Sheath, locked together in a moment of ecstasy that seemed to last for an hour until finally the strength went out of her arms. She released Sheath's legs from the mating press and let herself sink down onto the goddess's chest. Sheath gently wrapped her arms around her and Athame was too spent to object.

"Basmir's waiting for us," she said after she caught her breath.

Sheath made a sleepy noise, and tightened her grip a little.

"I guess…he can wait a little while longer."

* * *

Athame repeated her trick with the stretcher to get Sheath away from camp. From there, the two of them walked to the secluded meeting spot, where Basmir was waiting. His horse was grazing nearby. He was sitting on a rock with his hands folded, contemplating a handful of small bones scattered across a grid marked in the dirt. Athame couldn't help but be irritated at the habit. He knew it didn't work. But there was no point in saying anything about it. At least it was a fairly innocuous ritual. Maybe now that The Devouring Light was freed he'd finally start picking up some new ones.

"She can't hear you anymore, Baz," Athame said, by way of greeting.

"I like the new look," he replied. "Shiny. It suits you."

"Oh these old things?" She shook her head so that the horns she was now wearing jingled. "I only wear them when I don't care how I look. Sheath, this is Basmir. He knows all about your…situation."


"So…should I call you My Mistress's Sheath? Or Your Mistress's Sheath?" Sheath looked away, blushing.

"You'll call her The Devouring Light," Athame said firmly, internally cursing herself for slipping up.

Basmir grinned. "Yes'm." Athame sighed, and he reached over and grabbed her hand. "Hey. We're getting there. Closer than ever."

"Closer than we ever thought we'd get." She squeezed his hand and he let go. She examined his face. "You need to shave."

"Get off my case. You don't make Phil shave."

"That's because he can actually grow a beard and not just the patches of scruff you develop." She walked to where Baz had been casting bones and sat on the ground. Sheath followed and sat next to her. "I've got a question for you. It's…kind of esoteric."

Basmir sat back on his rock and crossed his arms. "Shoot."

Athame looked at Sheath. "So this is your first time around her. I'm curious if, when you think about her, you feel her in your thoughts at all." Basmir looked at her for a moment. "Like that," Athame said, "just now."

"Mmm…Nothing here."

"It's not like The Mother. Not like rummaging around or dictating. Just kind of…glinting off your thoughts like sunlight on silver." She looked away, suddenly a little embarrassed at the way she'd decided to describe it.

Basmir studied Sheath. She fidgeted. "Should I…do anything?" she asked Athame.

"Nothing that you don't usually do. It doesn't seem like something you consciously do; it happens when you're asleep, too. Even when you were knocked out with witch-sickness." Even when I'm dreaming, Athame did not add out loud.

"Nothing," Baz said finally. "I didn't have your relationship with The Mother, but I know what you mean."

"Hmm. Can you send to Baz?"

"I'll try." She turned her head toward him and focused.

He nodded. "Yeah. Quiet, but yeah."

"What about reading his mind?" Baz raised his eyebrows but didn't object.

"Oh. Okay. If it's alright with you?"

"Sure," he said. Basmir wasn't particularly concerned with privacy. He'd let 'Thame's pet take a peek. He allowed his eyes to slide up and down the goddess's body, lingering at the places where the fabric was drawn taut. He wondered what the two of them had been getting up to. He pictured Athame beating Sheath's ass raw; Athame, hilt deep in the goddess and scratching her name into divine flesh; Athame, with her cock—

Sheath suddenly covered her face with both hands, flushing a bright red. Baz grinned. "I think it worked," he said.

Athame frowned at him. "What was he thinking about?"

"Uh…sex. About you fucking me…" Basmir laughed aloud.

"Really, Baz? Haven't you seen enough of that?"

"Athame," he said, deadpan, "I will never tire of watching you work."

She rolled her eyes, but wasn't displeased. Athame wasn't really interested in men—she'd fucked plenty of them, sure, but that was years ago—but fortunately Basmir wasn't actually interested in fucking her.

"If you're done putting your pet through her paces?" Athame shrugged and he continued. "Have you decided what to tell Lykos?"

"Yeah. We couldn't get through the cage and we're gonna start tracking down one of our ridiculous solutions."

"You said a blood mage was a good idea." Basmir sounded almost hurt.

"In comparison to the other dreck we were coming up with, sure. It'll give us a reason to keep drawing on Heitia's purse."

He closed his eyes to think. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"It's just to buy us some time until Sheath is stronger."

"Fine. Just don't expect me to go looking for a unicorn."

"Certainly not. Who knows what you would get up to if you were off leash for that long?" Basmir snorted and Athame cracked a smile.

"What's next?"

"I'll fetch my things while Sheath waits here with you. Then, the two of us will set off for the city ahead of the rest—I thought about it and there's no good way to explain to the hirelings why she suddenly showed up in camp. Once we're off, you can head in and take charge as though you'd just arrived. You get the party moving tomorrow and we'll meet back up in town."

"As usual, I'm stuck with the grunt work while you go gallivanting off with the pretty girl."

Athame patted his shoulder. "That's literally what you signed up for." She stood up. "I'll be back in an hour or so. You two be good, okay?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Yes, mistress," Basmir repeated, slightly sarcastic.

Athame started back down the trail alone. She was a little nervous leaving Baz and Sheath together. Not for the reasons someone who'd only just met Basmir might think. No, it was because Baz knew almost everything there was to know about her.

And Basmir liked to gossip.

She quickened her stride. Maybe she could shave it down to 45 minutes if she hurried. She'd get her things from her tent, let Eula know that she was in charge until Baz got back, get her horse from…no, she should visit Hieron first so he could start getting her horse ready, then get her things from her tent, then Eula—

"Light? Hey, Light? Anybody in there?" Basmir asked. Fingers snapped beside her ear. Absent other options, she returned her mind reluctantly to Basmir there beside her.


"I asked if you're hungry. It's just trail rations, but there's jerky." Baz wasn't sure what to make of My Mistress's Sheath. She'd been perfectly attentive during the conversation, but as soon as Athame walked away she seemed to sort of drift off.

"Sorry. Yes, thank you."

Baz got her a strip of jerky, and realized that the thing Athame had been talking about was happening. Weird. He handed over the jerky and she started slowly eating it.

"How's Athame been treating you?"

"Um. She's nice. A little scary, sometimes."

"Sounds right." He scratched his stubble. He probably should shave. "I'd like to say she's a big softie but…"

"She's sharp," she finished the thought with a little smile. "What's this?" She pointed to the grid and bones despite being unable to see them.

"It's just to pass time. Each bone has a meaning depending on where and how it lands. All the bones together can be a message."

"What does this message say?"

"Dunno yet," he admitted. The most obvious interpretation was don't trust Athame. But there was enough noise that he didn't think it was as simple as that. And he certainly wasn't about to say that to Sheath, who was clearly infatuated. "Maybe…that I should trust myself more."

"Can I try?"

"Sure." Basmir gathered up the bones in a cup, gave them to Sheath, and traded spots with her. "Shake the cup, dump them on the grid." She followed his instructions, intense focus on her face. He began to understand why Athame was smitten with her. Besides her tits, of course.

The bones scattered across the grid. She turned to him, like she was looking through the blindfold. "What does it say?"

He shook his head and spread his hands. "Not how it works. Only the person who cast the bones can read them."

* * *

When Athame returned, she loaded Sheath onto her horse and dismissed Basmir with another reminder to shave. Baz had braided the goddess's hair, which was surprising, but helpful. She led the horse back to the road, then south toward Enopa.

The goddess spoke little; instead she seemed somewhat overwhelmed with the sensations of sun and wind and the horse moving under her. Athame, for her part, allowed her mind to be pleasantly clear of everything except the effort of one foot in front of the next.

When the sun began to get low, Athame started looking for a decent spot to spend the night. Preferably with nearby firewood; she'd gotten used to hot food on this trip. Eventually she found one, let the horse loose to graze, and allowed Sheath to remove her blindfold to help her gather wood—at this point it was unlikely that anyone would happen upon them. She broke the the wood into large chunks, then used her narolwen to—

"What's that?"

"Hm?" Athame looked at the metal rod in her hand. It was silver, with an almost golden shine to it. One end had a hoop big enough to fit three fingers through. "Oh, it's an elvish fire rod. A narolwen. Easiest way to start a fire without casting a spell." She jabbed the rod into a chunk of wood, then spun it between her palms. The hoop at the top blurred and almost immediately the chunk of wood started smoking. Athame lay the rod down, stacked smaller branches around the smoldering wood, and soon had a decent campfire burning. "Baz says it's cheating, but I've never been good at fire-starting. Not like the priestesses way up north who've made it their whole thing. And even they mostly try to not let a fire go out."

They ate their dinner, then Athame stood up and stretched. "Before we go to sleep, I've got something for you." Sheath looked at her, a particular kind of expectation on her face. "It's not dick," Athame clarified, walking to her saddlebags.

"For a while you'll have a little more freedom," Athame said. "We'll be en route to the temple, so you won't be confined to my tent any more. We'll be around other people, so you can't call me mistress and I can't call you Sheath. Under those circumstances, it may be easy to forget your place. To forget that you're my prisoner." Worse, Athame might forget. At night it was so easy to slip up and think of Sheath as her lover, which, for reasons Athame didn't want to analyze, was somehow even more shameful. "So I've prepared something to help remind you."

"Thank you…mistress…"

From her pack, Athame withdrew a silver collar, though she doubted anyone who saw it would call it that. It was a beaten silver band, completely unadorned, absent even a clasp. Athame pulled apart the soft metal to fit it around Sheath's neck, then pressed the ends together and checked the fit. Perfect: just loose enough to be comfortable. "How does that feel?" she asked.

"Good…" Sheath breathed.

Athame circled to Sheath's back and examined the place where the collar's metal ends fit together. Usually she used this trick for combat, but it should work well enough for this. "She-Who-Stokes-Want," she quietly prayed, carefully holding the ends together without touching where they joined, "in return for what I have given, do me this small favor." The metal heated, melted, ran together, and cooled, locking the collar in place. Hypothetically, breaking the silver wouldn't be difficult. But it wasn't meant to be an actual physical restraint. It was a reminder.

That night, they slept under the stars, limbs tangled together. After the exertion of the day, Athame hardly had any time at all for self-loathing before she fell asleep.

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