Slaves to the Worm God: A Haremlit Space Fantasy Adventure by Cyrus Janiak

Author:Cyrus Janiak [Janiak, Cyrus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Ain't Too Proud to Beg

Calista was actually grateful for the presence of the so-called “marriage veils, as it kept the hot sun from beating down on her unprotected skin, and somewhat obscured the monstrous maw of the titanic Worm God slowly making its way down the dusty path to the Ziggurat. She could feel the relentless bass of the massive summoning drums vibrating through the stone floor and wooden frame, to which she was bound, laid out like an hors d’oeuvre, and slathered with some special sauce to incite the abomination to tongue-fuck her first.

Ever since joining the Scourge pirates, she’d considered the possibility that she might die like this, though not on this shardworld, and not to this monster. That said something weird about her life, or was just how these extra-cosmic aberrations liked to roll?

But no matter—it was true things weren’t looking great for Captain Calista at this particular moment, but she’d been in worse spots befo... No, wait—had she? Actually, no—this was definitely the worst predicament she’d ever been in, but she wasn’t going to let it get her down… anymore, that is.

Yes, yes, she was totally done with letting this absolute fucking catastrophe harsh her mood. Only positive thinking for the rest of her life, no matter how short that might turn out to be. Wait, was she turning into Bramble? Well, whatever else she might think about her crew’s burglar, Bramble wasn’t being offered up as a sacrifice for a giant worm beast, so her life philosophy couldn’t be all bad.

And burglar-type skills were what this situation called for. Fortunately, Calista’s lamia anatomy were favoring her here. She could send powerful undulating waves through her snake tail to slowly work the anchor-pegs of her lower bindings out of the wood.

As restraints went, these were just sub-par—but they had to be. If they were too good, they might impede ol’ Krah-Mirogah’s enjoyment of his mealtime. It always sucked when you got a treat, but it was in one of those wrappers that just wouldn’t open. These lackeys would never pull that shit with their living god, now would they?

But the bindings weren’t total trash. They were more than enough for most people—but Calista wasn’t most people. In addition to the wriggles meant to work the pegs loose, she was pushing up and down with tail at the very end of her special, extra-long frame, which gave her more leverage to keep bending the wood in the middle back and forth, hopefully weakening it.

While she was doing that, Calista craned her neck to look for potential escape routes, and there was one. The base of this ziggurat was a bit different than most step-pyramids, in that it had sort of twin arms extending far out along either side of the red dust God’s Path. Black stone bleachers, you might say.

Those giant steps had black-clad Worm Cultists spread all over them, at every level, all performing the same rhythmic, ritualistic supplications as their god crawled its way

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