Seeding Midnight, Part Two

Sep 14th, 2013
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  2. ===PART TWO===
  4. The Slave awoke, a sliver of light bathing his darkened face. His eyes burned as he adjusted to this new source of illumination. A blue-fire lamp, held by some heavily cloaked Drow soldier. “Waken slave-scum. Mistress will want you soon.” The soldier slid a bowl of porridge across the floor. “Eat, gain strength. She’ll want you healthy and full of energy.” He chuckled, and left, slamming the door behind him again, but leaving the lantern on a hook outside, providing some faint illumination for the slave to eat by. Relan scrabbled for the bowl hungrily, his dignity ebbing away. How long had he been a prisoner of the Drow? It was hard to tell in this lightless place. Time seemed to move differently, in a place where the Moon was a Legend and the Surface a hated place. Once, he reflected. Once he had been a noble fighter, on a quest. He had been full of pride and arrogance. He had been driven by greed and pride, to seek ever greater treasures, ever greater risks. But the Mithril Blade he had sought had doomed his party, and driven him in despair to this dark place, where now he lived only to serve the sexual needs of some warped Drow Matron.
  6. Yet though his body ached for the release only she could grant him, he could not allow himself to submit completely. He cherished a fragment of that most forbidden emotion, Hope. He was forming a plan. Some mad notion that he would escape, somehow, and he would take Thrali, the Half-orc slave, with him too. He wanted also to take the Blade, for he felt deep, somehow, that it belonged to him, rightfully. That he alone was now its true master. But he had no clue how to get hold of it, much less escape the collar that bound him so completely to the Matron and this place. He finished the porridge, feeling it nourish him. But still his belly ached, and he felt that the longer he was in this place, the sooner he would waste away. His chiselled abs, proud chin, the arm that had grown strong from swinging swords, all would fade. Everything except his cock, it seemed, would be allowed to go to waste. He scratched his genitals, wondering if he would catch crabs in this draffy cell. The collar began to hum, and he knew soon it would be time. Perhaps if he pleased her again, she would move him to somewhere more comfortable. Or maybe even grant him clothes. He rankled at the idea of submitting so completely to her, but he needed her good will if he was to survive, much less escape. It was not long until the Guards came again, and he was taken from his cell. He was getting used to the low-level gloom that the Drow seemed to be comfortable with. No doubt their eyes were much sharper here in this darker place. The air no longer seemed to irritate him as much, either. Maybe they were feeding him something in the porridge to help him adapt.
  9. The Matron’s Chambers were sumptuous beyond even the most extravagant palace he had ever seen on the surface. Huge scarlet-silk curtains were draped everywhere, and ornate, adamantine furniture was scattered around the place, along with plush cushions that were purple and carnation in colour. The clash of purples and blacks with crimson seemed to be a common theme for this Drow. Dominating the Chamber was the huge circular bed where the Matron lay. Thick gauzy sheets were tossed aside, and a huge crystalline Lolth figure seemed to emerge from the wall, her many legs outstretched. Several other male slaves, their heads encased in ornate mask-helms, were scattered around the bed, their cocks already shrivelled and dry, drying semen like silver-trails leading back to the central Matron. She was largely nude, a simple silky night-dress clothing her torso, holes artfully cut for her breasts to jut proudly free. Her moist, slick vagina lay spread, as she watched him with hungry eyes.
  11. “Finally. My favourite toy. These others were weak, and broke easily. I am sure you will satisfy my hunger.” She cooed, her chest heaving. Her onyx skin was shiny with sweat and cum, and she seemed eager for more.
  12. “You will serve me, Cock-Slave. Come, enter me. I will ride you until I am truly, totally spent. Only then will I allow –you- any release.” Feeling his own lust build, Relan felt arcane energies seeping from the collar around his neck, seeping into his dick and balls, stirring him to full erection. As blood thundered through him, He felt his own thoughts dimming, animal instinct taking full control. He drooled hungrily, eager to rut.
  13. He clambered onto the bed, and felt the Matron’s slender arms wrap around him, her onyx skin surprisingly cool to the touch. She spread her legs wide, and slid down the full length of his shaft, shuddering and moaning, as her warm cocoon enveloped him completely. He felt her own pulse pounding around him, and inhaled her dusky, perfumed scent deeply. This unnatural, inhuman beauty drove him into a fuck-frenzy, and not waiting for her to catch her breath he began to jackhammer up into her cervix, his balls slapping against her bare skin.
  15. She squealed with delight, her nails raking down his back, the pain barely registering in his fog of lust. He grunted and moaned himself, fully given over to the animal need to pound, feeling the tight vice of her vagina squeeze and clamp around him. His breathing became ragged, as he simply drilled her. “Yes! Yes! More, More! Uh, you animal! Uhhh....” She shouted, arching her back, shivers running along the length of her. She pushed his face down into her cleavage. “Lick my breasts, savage! Worship them!” She quivered, her whole body straining for ecstasy. He greedily complied, his tongue slithering forth, arcane runes blaring. He found that, unconsciously, the magic was reacting both to his desire and to his mistress’s needs, changing him as necessary to fully satisfy the combination of the two. A tiny part of him that was still conscious noted this, and filed it away for later.
  16. His tongue wrapped around her nipples, lapping and squeezing. He moved his hands up, kneading and teasing her ample breast-flesh, sending deeper chills into the Drow.
  18. “Fuuuck....Uh...so close...Give me it all! I need...uh...Seed me! Cum, slave! N’DRAT!” She barked, in almost painful desperation, her sweating, heaving chest panting heavily. Like a painful waterfall, his cock burst forth a torrent of semen-slime, flooding her womb with his seed. She finally shuddered into full orgasm, his magic-enhanced seed fulfilling her in a way that no other lover’s could. She vibrated on his spurting cock, mewling and squealing like a cat, her eyes closed in pure ecstasy, as she finally slid free, a spreading pool of cum oozing out of her overfilled vagina. She lay, utterly spent on the bed, barely able to move, a bright sheen across her midnight skin, her eyes wide and staring emptily up at the Lolth Sculpture.
  20. Relan’s own roar of pleasure, long denied, was almost bestial in its savagery and pride. He arched back, arms flung wide, as a second, mighty surge of cum built up from within. His first orgasm had been relief, but his second was world-shaking. He doused the supine Matron in his sperm, white goo painting her torso, sticky strands covering her proud nipples and panting stomach, running like rivulets down to her already oozing vagina.
  21. His cock ached, truly ached, sore beyond words, yet the pain left him with a glow, as it slowly shrunk back to a normal size. His balls shrunk too, emptied of their engrossed contents. “You...have...served me well, slave. You may have the honour...of...comforting me.” She managed to command, though all breath and energy was clearly gone from her. Obediently, though he felt his own thoughts returning, even if fatigued, he lay down beside her in the bed, his arms wrapping around her slender, yet well muscled frame. It was strange, he thought. I should hate this woman, yet it feels...almost natural to hold her in this embrace. He felt his own fatigue rising, but before he succumbed to sleep, he felt a strange urge to...kiss this dark elf.
  23. He planted a tender kiss on her ripe, pink lips, tasting her oddly sweet tongue and mouth for the first time. She did not resist, meekly enjoying the kiss. Before he could think of anything else, he felt his own need for sleep overwhelming him, and he fell into a natural doze beside his mistress, his arms wrapped around her for warmth.
  24. Dreams came to him.
  26. He was in a field, bright sun shining down on him, his hands running through the tares of wheat around him. In the distance he could see his friends, calling to him. He could see the Mage, the rogue and the elven ranger who had guided them. What were their names? It all seemed distant now, unimportant. He smiled, waving back. He looked down. He was naked for some reason. He turned, and saw Thrali, the Half-orc coming up behind him, wearing a very revealing white robe. She smiled at him, and he felt his heart race. “Are you ready, my love?” She placed a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say yes, he was ready, but then he frowned. Ready for what?
  28. The Wind began to pick up. He felt cold now. His friends seemed to be more distant. “Wait! Hold a second!” He shouted. “They will wait for you forever, Relan. But I won’t.” Thrali said, and blood seemed to be running from her eyes.
  29. “What? No, don’t cry...”
  30. She turned, running through the field. He looked up, the sky was overcast, the light receding. He felt thorns growing around his ankles. He tried to run, but he had forgotten how. The thorns grew, chafing at his skin. He felt burning around his neck, a ring of fire. He looked up, and saw her.
  31. “Kiss the Devil, make them cry. Kiss the Angel, make her die. Kiss the Blade, escape the maze, Kiss the Slave, and pierce the haze.” The Drow Matron began to rhyme, her voice younger, different somehow. She ran her hands along him, even as thorns began to pierce his skin, and he felt a pulling sensation.
  32. “Stop, wait, I’m not ready-“ He was pulled down into the earth, thorns and chains binding him, and darkness covered everything.
  34. He awoke in a cot, clean sheets covering him. He gasped as he awoke. The light was brighter here. Where was he? He stood up, stretching his legs. The walls were the same dark granite of his cell, but cleaner, and the lanterns were inside the room with him now. There was a simple ornate ironwork door, but it didn’t seem to be locked. He felt the collar, still around his neck. He pushed open the door, and saw he was now back in the Main Bedchamber that he had fallen asleep in. Thrali and some other slaves were changing the sheets, and the male slaves were nowhere to be seen. Nor was the Drow Matron.
  35. “Whats going on?” He asked. Thrali turned, smiling.
  36. “You seem to have put Mistress in a good mood! She was humming this morning. She has given you the right to sleep near her. Uh, Thrali took liberties of moving you. Mistress would be angry if she awoke with a slave...” Thrali blushed.
  37. “No, thats fine. So, I’m some sort of Favourite now, huh?”
  38. “Yes. But you must not overstep boundaries. Continue to obey. If...If you must get close...” Thrali seemed nervous. “Then get as close as you can. Better for all, that way.”
  39. Relan frowned. “Is something wrong, Thrali?
  40. “Maybe. No. Nothing. Worry not.” She said, and hastily took the folded sheets and moved out of the way. “Mistress will be coming back. She’ll want to show you off.”
  41. As Thrali left, guards began to enter, one with a chain. “The Matron has been called to Court for Presentation. Her Daughter has come of age, and she’ll want to seem her best. You are to come too.” The guard explained. The other guard began threading the chain into a ring on Relan’s Collar.
  42. “Hey, what’s that for-“
  43. “Shut up, Slave. You are an animal, and when at Court you will be treated like one. In the Sharess’s presence, you must crawl on all fours, and obey anything she says, or you and the Matron will both die. You will not die slowly, either. I hear the Sharess is fond of feeding her slaves to the Driders.” The guard smiled wickedly.
  44. Relan gulped. He’d heard of the legendary Half-Drow Half-spider creatures. Their guide into the Underdark had warned that they were to flee if they spotted one. Of course, he had also told them to kill themselves if they spotted a Beholder or an Ithillid, which had seemed like so much hyperbole at the time.
  45. Led by a chain at his neck, the guards took him through his Mistress’s palace, bringing him to her entourage and carriage, pulled by some kind of large lizard-thing.
  46. “Good, you are here Cock-Slave. You will be needed at the Presentation.” She smiled, and there was a twinkle in her eye. She seemed to have warmed to him, though her affection seemed more like that of a Master for a pet than anything else.
  47. “Remember, you are to obey the Sharess as you would obey me. If another Matron tries to command you, look to me for approval first, understand? Good. Oh, and if a Priestess of Lolth shows interest...” The Matron frowns. “No, they won’t. Forget it. Now, be silent, and sit in the carriage.”
  48. As he got into the carriage, he saw there were several others who he’d be sharing space with. Some slaves, but also a shy, young Drow girl, much thinner and scrawnier than the others, wearing a rich purple gown like her mother, makeup enhancing her violet eyes and light grey skin. Clearly this was the Daughter spoken off. He wondered what this Presentation would consist of. Perhaps it was similar to a Debutante Ball in a Human Kingdom? The drow girl seemed very nervous, fidgeting with her gloved hands, checking her jewellery. She looked at him, and blushed deeply.
  50. The Matron simply smiled.
  52. The carriage door closed, and the lizards began to pull them through the streets of Menzoberranzan.
  54. He was about to find out.
  55. =================================
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