Order Trial II

The aspirants who had survived the first trial stood in a loose cluster, their skin and hair thick with cum residue.

Antonia was there, of course, looking infuriatingly composed despite the state of her shift, which stuck to her dancers curves like a second skin. Portia and Aelia stood beside her. There was a tall, thin futa with spectacles that had somehow survived the pool, her face flushed but determined. And two others.

Seven. Seven of us remain. But how many will survive the second trial?

Gold mask stood in front of them, her gold mask, her crimson robes pooling upon the stone floor. Behind her the other robed figures, silent and watchful, arranged themselves along the chamber's perimeter like statues waiting to come to life.

"You have done well to come this far," the Gold mask said, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "The first trial tested your focus. Your ability to resist your body's demands and complete a task despite overwhelming distraction. Some of you succeeded. Some of you..." She gestured vaguely toward the darkness beyond the chamber, toward the failed aspirants who had been led away. "Did not."

She began to pace, her footsteps soft, deliberate.

"The second trial tests something different. It tests your Hunger. Your willingness. Your ability to set aside your pride in order to further your ambitions. To... receive."

Cassia's stomach tightened. She didn't like the sound of that. Receiving meant surrender, meant revealing the part of herself that she couldn't fully control.

The Mistress clapped her hands twice, the sound sharp and commanding in the close space. From the shadows at the far end of the chamber, two robed figures emerged, and between them, they led a third figure.

She was beautiful.

That was Cassia's first thought, immediate and undeniable. The futa was perhaps a few years older than the aspirants, twenty-one or twenty-two, with skin like cream and hair the color of burnished copper. Her face was heart-shaped, with full pink lips, and her eyes were a startling shade of violet.

She was also naked.

Cassia could see everything, the curve of her breasts, the pink hue of her nipples, the swell of her hips, and between her legs, her small beta cock and pussy.

The robed figures guided her to the center of the chamber, where a stool had been placed.

The copper-haired beta sat, and one of the robed figures handed her something, a harp, it's frame curved and intricate. She settled it against her shoulder, her fingers finding the strings with practiced ease.

"The second trial," Gold mask announced, "is a game. A simple game that many of you may have played before in childhood, though perhaps not with these particular stakes."

She gestured, and the robed figures moved through the chamber, arranging chairs around the beta in a wide circle facing inward. Cassia counted them as they were placed. Six chairs. One shy of the seven needed to seat each aspirant. But as she watched, the robed figures produced something else, something that made her breath catch.

Phalluses.

The very same ones from the pool. They were quickly affixed to the chairs, rising from the center of each like an obelisk. They were all different sizes, she saw, some thick and short, some long and narrow, some curved, some straight, but all of them stood rigid and waiting.

"Musical chairs," the Mistress said, and Cassia could hear the smile beneath the mask. "But with a rather more intimate seating arrangement."

The copper-haired futa began to play.

The music was soft at first, gentle, a lilting melody that seemed to float through the chamber like smoke. Cassia felt it more than heard it, felt the vibration of the harp strings in her chest, in her stomach, in the space between her thighs.

"The rules are simple," Gold mask continued, her voice cutting through the music. "When the harp plays, you will walk. Around the circle, the same direction, no stopping, no slowing. When the harp stops..."

She let the silence stretch.

"You will sit. On a phallus. The aspirant not seated with a cock inside her will be eliminated."

Cassia's mouth went dry.

"What if two people sit on the same chair?" Antonia asked curiously.

"A phallus can fill but a single cunt. However, if you can unseat another aspirant with your hips before they are fully sheathed, then the phallus is free to take. Once a phallus is fully inserted, however, the seat is considered taken. No further challenges will be permitted."

"And if we can't get it all the way in?" the tall futa with spectacles asked, looking at one of the larger, twelve-inch phalluses.

"Then you are not seated. And you risk elimination." The Mistress's tone was matter-of-fact, almost bored. "The trials are not designed to be easy. They are designed to test. Some of you will fail. Some of you will succeed. Some of you..." She paused, her masked gaze sweeping across the seven aspirants. "May surprise yourselves."

The harp music swelled, the tempo increasing.

"Now, take your positions. There will be three rounds, the trial begins now."

The aspirants moved into the circle, each taking a place between chairs, walking clockwise as the music guided them. Cassia found herself between Antonia and Portia.

The phalluses on the chairs seemed to watch her as she ed, their glossy surfaces seemingly inviting her to apply more polish. She tried not to think about it too much, tried not to imagine what it would feel like to lower herself onto one, to feel that wooden shaft spreading her open, repeatedly filling her, until she...

The music stopped.

Chaos erupted.

Cassia lunged for the nearest chair, driving herself upon a slender, seven-incher with a cry of relief as her ass cheeks wiggled and clapped down upon the seat. All the chairs were quicklyoccupied. Six bodies lowered onto six phalluses, some gasping, some moaning, some biting their lips to keep from crying out.

Six chairs. Seven aspirants.

One stood alone.

It was the tall futa with spectacles. She stood frozen, her face pale, her hands pressed against her thighs as if she didn't know what to do with them. Her spectacles had slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back with a trembling finger.

"Aspirant Sabinus is eliminated," Gold mask announced.

"No, wait, I-" the tall futa began, but robed figures were already moving toward her, guiding her gently but firmly toward the darkness beyond the torchlight. She didn't resist, didn't fight. She just walked, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Seven down to six. The trial continued.

The aspirants rose from their chairs, extracting themselves from the phalluses with various sounds of their wetness. Aelia whimpered as she pulled free, a strand of her natural lubrication clinging onto the wooden shaft as if unwilling to part with it.

A chair was removed and the harp began to play again, faster this time as the students resumed their circling. Cassia's heart was pounding now, her palms sweaty, her breath coming in short gasps. She watched the chairs as she ed them, trying to plan, trying to calculate which one she would go for.

The music stopped.

Cassia moved. She didn't think, didn't hesitate, just threw herself toward the chair with the curved, six-inch phallus. But Portia was there, and their bodies collided, both reaching for the same seat.

"Fuck off Cass, this one’s mine!" Portia growled, and rammed Cassia aside with her hip.

Cassia stumbled, her heel catching on the chair, and she fell. She hit the stone floor hard, the impact jarring through her body, and for a moment she just lay there, stunned, watching as Portia lowered herself onto the curved phallus with a satisfied groan.

Two other aspirants had claimed chairs. A third was struggling with the twelve-inch phallus beneath her, her hips working frantically as she tried to guide the wooden shaft deeper into her cunt. And the remaining two, Aelia and Antonia, were fighting over the same chair.

That left one chair.

Cassia scrambled to her feet.

Cassia ran. She didn't walk, didn't hesitate, she ran, throwing herself onto the last remaining seat, taking the eight-inch phallus inside her in one deft movement. She gasped at the sudden fullness.

"Aspirant Magna you are eliminated."

Cassia looked around the circle. Five futa remained. Portia was on her left, her eyes closed, lips parted, hips moving in small, **** circles.

And across the circle, on the chair directly opposite, sat Antonia.

Their gazes met. Antonia smiled, that brilliant, electric, disarming smile. She had won her battle, sitting on her chair as if trying to display a kind of casualness of someone who didn’t have seven inches of wood buried inside of her cunt.

Showoff.