Seeding Midnight, Part Three

== SEEDING MIDNIGHT, PART THREE==
The carriage travelled for about an hour before it began to wind its way free of the vast, sprawling underground city of Menzoberranzan. Although he was chained as a slave, and in the back of a bucking, rocking vehicle, Relan could not help but peak through the canvas in awe at the sights that passed them by.  Huge, ethereally glowing domes surmounted jagged palaces of dark rock, hundreds of low domed buildings clustered around these bright points of power in the gloom.  Vast, jagged stalactites jabbed down from the black ceiling, ever-threatening swords threatening to fall on the people below.

The lizards dragged the carriage still higher, ascending to the great “House Loft” of Qu’ellarz’orl, where the most powerful Houses of the city resided, and the great Domed chamber of the Council resided. Looking back down and across the sprawling city, Relan was briefly awed by the magnificent underground vista before him. Truly, the Drow were a mighty race to have such a vast metropolis, so sustained deep beneath the earth, hidden from the sun.
“Remember, slave. Be quiet and follow. Avoid eye contact. You are a toy, a pet, nothing more.” A guard warned him.
Relan simply nodded, lowering his eyes, though his thoughts were still aflame. What new spectacle awaited him? It seemed he was more a mute observer than even he had planned. Still, he reassured himself. He would find freedom soon enough. Recklessness would only get him killed. Best to learn all he could, gain their trust, before he began to formulate his plans.

They disembarked from the carriage, entering a vast marshalling yard, huge adamantine gates swinging closed behind them. Dozens if not hundreds of Drow and their slaves milled around, preparing for the night’s festivities. Once, the city celebrated a drow matroness’s coming of age with the Blooding. But the New ruler of this city, Quenthel Baenre, had other ideas. Tonight they would celebrate the glory of Lolth, in ways that Relan could only darkly imagine. Considering what it was that had impressed the Mistress who owned him, he could only hope that she would not sacrifice him in some obscene ritual to the Demonweb Queen tonight.

As they entered the main concourse, great rearing sculptures dedicated to Lolth towered over him. He realised with horror that, crawling down from an opening in the ceiling, were a great many Driders, loyal servants and guards of the Matron Mother, who was also the High Priestess of the Spider Goddess in this city. Listening to the murmurs of other slaves, as they huddled together and were herded forward, he began to pick up some of this information himself. He knew little of the Dark City or the Drow, but he was learning much, and keen to learn more. The guards seemed content to simply keep them moving at a slow pace, and did not punish anyone for their whispering and gossip. The mood was almost jovial, and even the guards seemed less rigid and cruel, leaning nonchalantly on shields and spears.

“Remember, hear and obey.” Thrali whispered to him, as she briefly brushed past him, carried away by a different surge of slaves. It seemed her duties took her elsewhere. He felt a small pang of regret. She was a source of comfort in this dark place, someone in the same position as him. He also, he had to admit, found her very attractive, for a half-orc, and would have loved the opportunity to engage in some lusty rituals with her.
“Alright, sex slaves, pets, this way. You’ll be part of tonight’s entertainment. I hope you’re as good as your Mistresses think you are.”  A Priestess sneered. She came out of a side tunnel to gather them up. She was of average height, very lithe, a dark metal breastplate leaving her toned stomach bare, and emphasising her curves. A weird, undulating whip was belted at her side. Relan realised with horror the whip appeared to be alive, some sort of serpent or coiled tentacle with fangs.

Reluctantly, a mass of slaves similar to Relan- with arcane collars, hoods, and little to no clothing on- were gathered and herded further into the heart of the Council Chambers.   They were brought into a plush annex, the noise of music and revelry coming from the other side of a thin wall.

“You’ll come when you’re called. And cum when you’re called.” She chuckled. “Fuck this up; I get to play with you. And I play rough.” The Priestess uncoiled her whip for emphasis. Many female slaves shuddered, perhaps remembering some past torment. Relan felt sick, wondering what he was getting himself into. What if he...couldn’t perform? He found himself praying to Sune for virility, of all things. Hopefully, the magic collar around his neck would aid him in keeping him alive, and impressing these deviant drow with whatever sick sexual stunts were required of him.

He sat uncomfortably, eyeing the others waiting with him. He felt like a Gladiator about to enter an Arena. He noticed that there was a fair mix of races and genders. He saw a huge, muscled hobgoblin, a massive iron cock-ring encircling his proud phallus. It was at least as big as Relan’s arm. He didn’t envy any women who had to deal with that monster tonight.

Sat across from him were two high-elven sisters, wearing gauzy white robes, barely concealing their small, ripe breasts.  Their pale skin seemed faintly luminescent in the reflected glare of the blue-fire torches, and they talked quietly to each other in their own tongue, glancing at the others in the room.  They had heavily rouged eyes, and elaborate makeup around their mouths and cheeks.   Relan could tell they had been doing this for a long time. They both seemed blank and uninterested in those around them, a flicker of life and interest only appearing when they glanced at each other.

Finally, he noticed another Half-Orc, half shadowed in the corner. She wore heavy bracers, and a large shoulder plate, making her seem more like a Gladiator than all the rest of them. She had her eyes closed, seemingly deep in meditation.  She wore little else, her mighty breasts jutting proudly, faint scars criss-crossing her dark green skin.  She had no hair, having been shaved all over. It was an odd, but feral look, and made her seemed far more orcish than her half-breed status would bely.

Finally, the chatter and music died away in the other room. A fanfare was called, and the door was opened. “To begin tonight’s entertainment, honoured guests of all Houses; we shall have a ritual Combat! Blood may be shed, wounds may be inflicted, and fluids of other kinds will be spilled in great amounts! First to face the sexual Arena, Golgathia, the Crotch-Destroyer!”

There was a roar of approval, and many Drow began pounding their table. With a quiet sigh, the Half-Orc opened her eyes, and went out into the main hall. “Don’t resist too much if you face me.” She said, turning. “It will go easier on you. Especially the men.”

She stepped out, to the cheers of the crowd.
Relan began to wonder just how much this dinner-game would resemble the blood-sport arenas he had seen on the surface world.  “Facing her, all the way from the Kara-Tur wastes, Ulun, the Raging Stallion!”
Relan peaked out the now open door, and watched in amazement as a Centaur, heavily chained and clearly emaciated from years under the surface, was led into the room, his massive horse shaft rising proudly. Precum began to dribble from his huge penis, his eyes wild and lips foaming with wild lust. Clearly whatever sanity and dignity this beast-man had once had, had long been driven out of him by these sex-games.

Relan watched as the combatants leapt into action, wrestling and fighting, the Centaur trying to mount Golgathia whilst Golgathia sought to tame him, and make him service her. Her arms bulged as she brought the centaur into a headlock, forcing him to lick her hairless vagina, his rough horse-tongue delving deep into her. He lapped at her hungrily, but as she weakened he burst free, his huge penis flopping up, desperate to penetrate her. She surprised him, leaping up and wrapping her thighs around his neck, burying his face in her mound.  As it tried to squirm away, she yanked on its tail, causing it to rear up, its shaft bouncing, precum flecks spraying everywhere, to the delight of the onlookers.

Whilst all this was going on, Relan’s eyes scanned the crowd. He noticed several young Drow women, including his Mistress’s daughter, all dressed in their finery, blushing and giggling, shifting awkwardly as they watched the rough sexual wrestling.  Relan caught the young girl’s eyes, and she smiled, perhaps seeing him peeking from the side. The other Drow seemed too focused on the action happening in the centre of the hall. She seemed to mouth something at him, but he couldn’t make out what. He saw Thrali attending to her as a handmaiden, bringing her a tray of something.

He tried to get her attention, but then a loud cry drew his attention back to the wrestling.
After minutes of forcing the creature’s own libido back, whilst cruelly dominating it and forcing it to eat her out, Golgathia  finally allowed the Centaur to penetrate her, wincing only slightly as she took the entirety of his manhood into her. She slid down the obscenely long and erect penis, grinding and bucking as it pumped inside her. She gritted her fanged teeth, and began to ride the bucking, quivering Centaur.  It neighed and grunted, hooved legs failing, as she slid up and down it, pistoning herself on the rigid rod. She leaned down onto the beast, shoving its head into her huge breasts, forcing him to bite and lick at her engorged nipples.  She slapped it when it bit too hard, or tried to buck free.  Finally it roared, its bestial needs satisfied, and a gush of thick semen erupted, flooding out of her pussy, Golgathia snarling and groaning as it painted her insides with equine cum. She bit her lip,  drawing some blood, as she closed her eyes, suppressing her own urge to climax, regaining control of her body and pelvic muscles.

Incredibly, she rose off of the drooping, gushing member, her legs quivering but not faltering, and she stood, rivers of semen dripping down her legs from her thoroughly soaked pussy. She panted, her chest and brow stained in a thick sheen of sweat. Her nipples were throbbing erect, and it was clear that despite it all, she still had not climaxed herself.

“Golgathia wins! Truly, who can provide any pleasure to this iron-thighed beast-maiden! A magnificent display!”  The announcer shouted. Relan watched as many of the assembled noble-ladies began to openly fondle themselves, the display of raw sexual prowess clearly stimulating them.

He observed some Driders dragging the comatose, shagged-out centaur away, to what dire fate he could only imagine. A trail of thick cum marked his passage, staining the hard-granite floor.
“Who will ante a Slave to face our Champion?”

Relan watched in horror as his Mistress rose. “I will. I nominate my new Cock-Slave, Bolo, to enter the arena. I wager my daughter’s virginity.” The mistress seemed smug. The other house nobles muttered, clearly intrigued by this development.  Relan could only gape in horror.

Rising from her own throne, the High Matron-Mother herself, in what looked like some sort of Adamantine Bikini, answered the challenge. “Your wager is accepted. I in turn wager control of two of my own finest sex-slaves, the Daughters of Talanrahl, and control of the trade rights to the High Road.” The nobles murmured amongst themselves. It was debatable whether the virginity of a Matroness’s daughter was of equal value to this wager, but it was from the High Matron Mother herself, and so could not be challenged.

“If your slave fails, I will also demand him for myself.” The Matron-mother smiled cruelly. “My Priestesses have many uses for such fresh...meat.”
“Accepted. Bolo, come forth.” She commanded. Clearly, she had been planning a gambit like this for a while, and was confident that he would not let her down. He dared not imagine what would happen if he did.

He felt his own legs moving of their own accord, as he entered the hall, the panting Half-Orc woman nodding to him.
“I will try to go easy on you, new blood. But do not expect victory here today.” She said.
He nodded. “I don’t even know what the rules are.”
The Half-orc smiled, as if he had said something incredibly funny. “Make me climax before you cum. anything else goes.”

The Announcer shouted. “Let the Game begin!”
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