The First Day
The dangers of the underdark went well beyond the drow. All kind of monsters lurked in the darkness, but the source of nearly all of them stemmed from the same source… Faerzress. No one knew where the magical mist came from… it was as old as the drow exile into the darkness. The old priestesses of Lolth had believes it was a test put down here by their goddess to make them strong. The priests of Vhaerun thought it part of their exile, a prison crafted for them by Corona and the other gods of the surface when the drow were cast down to make their lives worse. Still others thought it leaking of negative energy from the Plane of Shadow.
No matter where the Faerzress, it changed everything it touched. It had turned the drow’s skin black and given them their resistance to magic. It had turned the orcs into hulking brutes, far larger than those on the surface. It had turned the monsters larger, the animals more ferocious, the plants more poisonous and less nourishing. It made the spiders enormous, the lizards ravenous, and the goblins more clever… and sometimes, it touched something truly dangerous.
Aurellia Esmet felt like she had been in her coffin for a decade. She had lived more than century of life… she had been an artist, a respected painted. She had had friends. A mother and father. A brother. It was increasingly hard to remember any of them. It was hard to remember that any of her century of life before the drow had happened… but she remembered when they had broken into her home all too well. Raping her ass. Making her lick their cum off their paintings. Hours and hours of depravity… hours in which she watched her city burn, her friends and family die, her race be crushed into oblivion. And then it was into the coffin with her, and her life had been replaced with a never-ending string of rapes by a monster. One after the other after the other after the other. To survive, she had drank the cum that leaked from her own holes… it had burned what was left of her pride, but her desire to live was stronger than her hatred of her life.
At first, she thought she was imagining it when the coffin was lifted… but then it was abruptly dropped on the ground, and she couldn’t have imagined that. They had arrived! She was going to be let out! Despite her terror, she was glad… surely nothing could be worse than the coffin… days or weeks or years stuck in the dark confined space with a monster with a truly unquenchable sexual appetite. At least the drow… even hundreds of drow, all planning on using her… had to rest sometime. The troll didn’t… she passed out with it fucking her, and woke with it still fucking her. It’s cock hadn’t been out of her body for a single second the entire time she had suffered in the darkness.
Almost lustfully, Aurellia waited for the lid to be torn off. She would throw herself into the arms of the drow, promise to be the best slave in the entire world if they would keep her away from the troll. Hell, she’d fall to her knees without them needing to say a word and swallow their cocks, without any guarantees, just for the chance she would be spared.
But the lid didn’t move.
Horror began to grow as she felt the rumble of the wagon through the earth. It was… leaving! Leaving her here! She had horrible visions of herself trapped in this coffin for all time, licking at the cum of this monster to stay alive and never being found. Why? Why would they abandon her?
The troll came six more times before she heard the scrape at her lid. Twice more after that before Aurellia became sure she wasn’t imagining it. Three more times before she noticed the coffin begin dragged across the ground. By that point, she didn’t care what it was outside… so long as it opened the lid and let her out, it could be anything in the world and she would love it for eternity.
The damned troll was still violently humping away when the lid was ripped off. After the coffin, even the phantom phosphorescence of the cavern seemed blinding, and she needed to blink dozens of times as her sensitive eyes adjusted, taking in her surroundings… and then blink a dozen more as she struggled to understand what she was seeing. The cavern was enormous… the size of the forest in the center of Soleila, at least, and it filled with one, massive tree. Thousands and thousands of branches spiraled off of it, diving down towards the ground, plunging through the rock and erupting back up to form a mass of vines and branches and tendrils so thick that not even the faintly glowing leaves could let her make any sense of what was happening here. What she could see, however, were the women.
Drow women.
They were suspended in mid air by vines wrapped around arms and legs and throats, holding them up… and plunging into them. Something wet splashed against Aurellia’s face, and looking up she saw a lithe drow woman just ten feet above her, her cunt and asshole both speared by thick vines of the massive plant. Her belly was swollen as if she were six months pregnant, and her tits were leaking… that was what had splashed her. Everywhere Aurellia looked, there were women hanging from the tree… mostly drow, but a few other surface elves. Even as she watched, one was ripped out of a coffin and yanked screaming into the air where she was immediately impaled.
Then a vine wrapped around her ankle.
Aurellia tried to run but it was far too late, had been too late from the moment she was put into the coffin. She screamed as she was hoisted upside down into the air, dangling from her ankle as she felt the first of the plant’s thousand “cocks” find her pussy and shove into her. Her screams rose as another “cock” drove into her asshole with equal vigor, and then cut off a moment later as a third buried itself down her throat.
The poor elf had no knowledge of this place, no way of knowing its history. How the remains of a greater demon of Jubilex had been slain on this spot and had been consumed by spreading plants. How the Faerzress had touched it and reawakened that demon’s spirit, filling the tree with it. How it had grown and grown, inching closer and closer to Menzoberranzan and revenge on the drow that had slain it. How the drow had sacrifice captives for it to play with for six centuries… and how, in the wake of the rebellion, they had found that it preferred female captives, how it could be distracted far more thoroughly by them… and how there were other benefits.
Aurellia had gotten her wish… she was free of the troll. She was about to learn, however, that her idea of endless rape was in for some cruel adjustment.
The Third Year
Ciliren Naera hurried after Istroos Abaeir, at least, as much as anyone could hurry while crawling. If she fell too far behind, she’d be punished… and her scars from her last punishment still hadn’t healed. Obeying her owners didn’t stop them from hurting her, nothing did that, but they hurt her as a matter of course… punishment was something else. Ciliren hated herself for it, but she found herself genuinely thankful when they just hurt her a little these days, rather than genuinely punishing her for a failure.
Three years in Menzoberranzan had changed Ciliren. She was pretty sure the death of her sister and the weeks spent in that coffin had driven her mad because she couldn’t remember much of the city of her birth any longer… whenever she tried to think of a temple, a store, a house back in Soleila, her mind conjured images of the drow city that was her new dungeon instead. It was like the drow had raped her memories as thoroughly as the rest of her – she no longer had a home to return to even in her mind. She had trouble remember who she was, what she had been… she had worked in the city, hadn’t she? Some kind of… artisan, right? She couldn’t summon up any memories of performing her work, either – whenever she tried, she just saw herself on her knees, sucking an endless string of black-skinned cocks.
In fact, there was only one part of her own life she got to hang onto…
Istroos pushed open the door into the room in the center of their family house, not bothering to hold it open for Ciliren… she needed to spring forward on hands and knees fast enough to bruise her own limbs to catch the door before it closed and locked her out. Sliding into the room, the elf was stunned as always as she looked around it. From her understanding it used to be a temple to the dark goddess of the drow, before they had forsaken her… now it was a temple only to pain.
Aunrae Abaeir was here, like always… the drow woman was rarely permitted to leave this room. Drow women were far more valuable slaves these days, due to their shorter supply and their purity, unlike worthless fuckdolls like Ciliren. No one bothered to steal an elf slave… but men had been murdered to steal the drow women they owned. The boys were quite protective of their mother.
Not that they treated her much like their mother anymore. A mother, certainly… but not theirs.
Aunrae was the most beautiful woman that Ciliren had ever seen… even through the dark skin that made her shudder from memories of her captors. The fallen drow priestess had a body that swelled in all the right places, narrowed in all the others, and her faith was absolutely gorgeous. She didn’t look like a woman nearly two centuries Ciliren’s senior.
She was also, for a rarity, not pregnant.
Aunrae was on her knees with her hands bound behind her back, getting fucked up her ass by her grandfather while her son choked her with long strokes of his cock. Her dark skin was covered head to toe with darker welts, showing Ciliren clearly that they had been working the drow over for hours before calling for her. There was no fight left in Aunrae anymore… they didn’t beat her to force her obedience. They just did it because they enjoyed making her scream.
The groan and gagging noises were the only sign that Vuznet was making his mother swallow his load. Istroos kicked Ciliren forward. “You’re up, whore,” he growled as his grandfather finished fucking the dark skinned elf and letting her fall to the stone floor.
Ciliren crawled forward, trying not to seem too eager. She hated almost everything, every single thing, about her life… but this part… this she could live with. Her ass swayed back and forth as she crawled, and even though her belly wasn’t showing yet with the half-drow child these bastards had put in her her tits had already begun to swell, bouncing as she crawled towards Aunrae. If she did her task quickly enough, they might even feed her today… that bland bread was the only thing slaves ever got to eat that counted as real food, but it tasted better than the cum, shit, and piss she needed to subsist on the rest of the time. Dropping onto the floor next to the drow woman, Ciliren spread her cheeks, and pushed her tongue into the drow woman’s ass.
That was all women were good for now in Menzoberranzan… entertainment, and breeding. The problem for Abaeir family was that, after being fucked repeatedly for years and bred a half dozen times, Aunrae’s cunt no longer met their standards. Thankfully, they had a solution in the form on Ciliren. The elf began to suck and lick, eating out the woman’s ass and sucking out a dozen or more loads of cum that her family had poured into her tight back hole. Drow cum filled her mouth, and she shuddered, but she was careful not to swallow any… that would lead to punishment, and the elf knew that she wasn’t the first slave that they had purchased for this job. On her very first day here, she had watched her predecessor be beaten to death for failing to move all the cum into Aunrae. She hated having their cum in her mouth, but the rest of it was worth it…
Once Ciliren’s mouth was full and she was reasonably sure that she couldn’t get any more from her ass, Ciliren pulled back, put her mouth again Aunrae gorgeous cunt, and began to push the cum into her. To the drow, it was a degrading task… using her mouth to help them getting their breeding bitch pregnant. Thankfully, they didn’t realize that Ciliren preferred the company of women to that of men, even before having been raped, and she thought that Aunrae was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Sure, she was a drow as well, but it was hard to hold that against the woman, not when she was treated just as badly by their captors as the surface elves were. She felt a kind of… kinship with the beautiful drow woman… enough so that as she obviously pushed cum into the woman’s cunt, she swallowed some, making it as subtle as possible. It wasn’t much, but maybe he could give her some time between needing to be bred… it was the greatest gift she could offer the other victim.
Then it was back to her ass to suck out the rest. Then push it into her cunt as well. She was active with her tongue as she did it, trying to give the woman a bit of pleasure, and she smiled as she tasted her wetness. Then came the time to bathe the woman with her tongue, licking up the cum stuck onto her dark skin and relocating it to her pussy as well. Then it was time for what she had swallowed.
Ciliren kissed Aunrae, driving her tongue into the other woman’s mouth… and if she wasn’t anywhere near as enthusiastic about the kiss as Ciliren was, it was only because they both knew what was coming next. Diraen drove his boot into Aunrae’s stomach, making the woman wretch… but while she moaned in misery, the contents of her stomach stayed within her. It took four more kicks before she finally vomited up the pile of cum in her stomach into Ciliren’s mouth. The surface elf, twisted as her mind was, tried to forget that it was drow cum filling her mouth and just take enjoyment of the soft lips of the drow woman against hers. She swallowed a bit of the cum, but she didn’t mind as she sank back down, resuming the process of licking at Aunrae’s snatch as she pushed the cum into her, working at her clit… and smiling as she felt the drow woman softly orgasm beneath her tongue… glad that she could give her sister in suffering at least a little bit of pleasure.
She felt like she could love this woman. The world had sank into hell for all elves, and the female drow had joined them there, but even in hell there were at least shreds of pleasure that they could find. Together, they could take at least a little bit of pleasure in their degradation. What tiny shred of solace they could take was surely welcome. Compared to the brothel she had been in before being bought and branded, this was almost an ideal life.
“She swallowed some of the cum,” Aunrae said, leaning back and wrapping her thighs around Ciliren’s head.
Ciliren froze. What? Why? Why would she… The elf looked up at the drow woman, up over her cunt to her face, and saw the hatred in her eyes, the superiority, the vicious pride that drove the drow woman to make herself higher than the one person she could, to put at least someone below her… to inflict some of the pain given to her onto someone else.
“Stupid cunt,” Istroos growled as he grabbed Ciliren by her blonde hair and began to drag her away…
Koszar had promised death. Tali wished with all her being that he had been honest.
After she had been butchered by Shelan, the dying air elemental had been imprisoned in an airtight box, longing for death to end her pain but unable to die until they reached Menzoberranzan. She hadn’t know why he bothered… he expected that she was just going to be killed, and wished that if he was going to do it, he could at least let her die in the open air. Unfortunately, he had a different fate in mind for her.
No one had bothered to explain the details to Tali. No one bothered to tell how how after they had been fed so many Drow women during the rebellion that the spiders had grown used to it. No one bothered to tell her how the faith in Lolth and her spiders had waned and fallen in the city with the death of its matriarchy. No one bothered to tell her how increasingly no one had enough captives to sacrifice to them for a place to lay their eggs. Koszar had just taken the limbless air element out in the cavern, dug a hole in the rock with his magic, and dumped her facefirst into it.
He stopped paying attention to her then. She was free… she could escape… if only she weren’t crippled. As much as she longed to dissolve into Wind and just disappear from this horrid place, she couldn’t… not while she was incomplete. She needed to heal. She needed the wind, needed a breeze to blow across her so that she could gather her strength, so she could draw it into herself and repair her severed winds and her shattered power… but she was deep, deep underground. There was so wind… the air was stale and stagnant, unmoving, unliving. There was nothing here to restore her.
She could see right through her own nearly transparent body, out in the cavern… or had once been able to. Now all she could see was the eggs that filled her… and the giant spiders.
She heard the tap-tap-taping of eight legs across the stone, and she started to squirm, trying hopelessly once again to get free. “Don’t!” she begged. “Stop, please by the by the father of storms show some sense! It won’t fit! It won’t!” She wasn’t exaggerating. She could see her belly distended horribly, swollen and painfully stretched… could see the piles of eggs pushing her outward, making her gaseous skin stretch horrifically. “You’ll kill me, you dumb animals!” she screamed. “You’ll kill me! Stop it!”
What little light there was in the cavern vanished as the spider blocked it out, and Tali screamed as she felt the ovipositor slid into one of her holes – her ass this time – pushing eggs to the side to make room and spreading her already stuffed body even further. “It won’t fit!” she wailed. “It won’t fit… there’s no room, pleasepleasepleasepl- aaaaaagh!” Her begging cut off in a wail as more eggs shoved their way into her, and Tali felt her already impossibly pained body stretch even further. “Nonononopleasenoooooo…” Thump. Thump. Thump. She gasped with each new egg as it forced its way into into her, making room by pushing other eggs somewhere even deeper into her body.
Then the ovipositor withdrew from her, and Tali had a second of relief. As much as she hated it, this had become almost normal for her life. The eggs hatched inside her nearly as quickly as new ones were pushed in. She could feel them… it was the only thing she could feel most times except for the pain. A million tiny feet, dancing across her insides. A million tiny bites as they tried and failed to find something to eat in their insubstantial flesh. They covered every inch of her, inside and out, save for her head – the one bitter mercy of being buried in the earth like this.
Tali got to think that maybe she was going to escape further torment, save for the everpresent sensations inside of her, for all of ten seconds before she realized that she could hear more spiders. “Noooooooooooo, it won’t, you can’t, you ca-” The next ovipositor was shoved into her, and move eggs came. And more. And more. She had stopped begging, stopped screaming. She just sobbed brokenly as her limbless body was somehow, impossible, stuffed further full. This was hell, this was so much worse than Shattering. Tali longed for death.
Thump, thump, thump. Scream. Egg after egg forced its way into her until that spider was spent. Then it withdrew and another one started depositing eggs into her cunt. Then another in her ass. Over and over, each egg making her feel like she was going to burst.
When the eggs started to be pushed out her other end, Tali didn’t realize what was happening at first. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in her throat, a choking feeling… not something that Wind had ever thought she would have a problem with. To her horror she realized that she had been filled so thoroughly that some of the oldest eggs inside her had been forced through her entire intestinal tract and were now starting to push up her throat and into her mouth.
A couple spiders later and her cheeks were already bulging with eggs, her lips stretched painfully wide around them. They pressed against her tongue, forcing her to taste the evidence of their long journey inside her. And even as she tried to adjust to this new indignity, she felt one of them start shaking, and then another, and another.
About to hatch.
Tali tried to scream, but all that came out of her stuffed mouth were soft, desperate sounds heard by no one. That and, a few seconds later and for the next several weeks straight, spiders.
Narbondel was the only uncut surface inside the city of Menzoberranzan proper. A huge stalagmite reaching all the way to the cavern ceiling, it served a useful purpose for the city. The drow could see heat, so by tradition, the cities archmage would go the base stalagmite at “midnight” and start a fire that would slowly move the head up to the top of the pillar and then back down. In that way, the massive pillar would be used as the city’s clock. As Archmage that should have been Grompf’s job, but after the city’s fall he had grown increasingly disinterested in his duties, so he had passed on the responsibility to his second… and Koszar Nirune knew exactly how he wanted to fulfill the duty.
Qi found herself bound to the base of Narbondel by bonds of a strange metal that did not burn, her arms and legs buried deep inside the pillar… the better to apply her heat to it. Every day, at midnight, Koszar would come by to rape her. That was her instruction to begin a new cycle of burning… to burn and burn and burn until the pillar was filled with her heat. Then, if she did it well enough, she would have a hour or so each day when she didn’t need to blaze like an inferno… she would merely need to burn like a torch. Putting her flame to such a mundane use would have been humiliating enough… but of course Koszar hadn’t left it there.
Somehow, the mage had found a way to change the binding that tied her to the elf’s physical form. For her entire life, Qi had never felt the kiss of her own flames. She did now. Her flames licked across her face and hair and breasts, and it burned her… agonizingly. During the hot hours, when she lit Narbondel, her entire body burned away, scorched black until there was nothing but ashes, leaving nothing but a screaming, bodyless torch in the darkness in the vague shape of a woman. It was only during the slow hours, when she didn’t need to heat it any longer, than her body slowly regenerated… just in time for Koszar to rape it again. Occasionally, he brought Shelan with him… using her to clean her up after he finished. The woman was a wreck, even more filthy that she had been on the surface, and the only hope that Qi could have was that someday the wizard would die… and perhaps his successor would not bind her lover so competently. Maybe then she could escape.
But Qi never would. These bindings… they seemed indestructible, and they held massless, formless flame motionless in their grip.
She could see Koszar approaching now, striding through the streets with a smile as he headed for the pillar. It was nearly midnight.
Almost time to burn.
The Fourth Year
Aurellia was certain she was going insane.
She had thought that when she was in the coffin her existence had existed of nothing but fucking. She had no idea how wrong she had been. She had been able to feel the coffin around her. She had been able to move, been able to struggle. The troll had only been able to reach one of her holes. She had been able – forced, really – to lick up cum to stay alive. She had been able to have a miserable existence, but an existence.
Now she wasn’t so lucky.
All three of her holes were constantly stuffed, and she couldn’t even feel the walls of her cunt or ass anymore… it felt like they had been rubbed raw years ago. The only thing she ever got to eat was the sappy excretions of the plant, and even those were pumped directly down her throat by the vine fucking her face… she never even got to taste it. She couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm, couldn’t speak or beg or scream. She could see, but the only thing she could see was thrashing vines and other raped women with their bellies and tits swollen. In fact, the only time she didn’t have three cocks in her was when she was giving birth to whatever this monstrosity was pumping into her.
She hadn’t ever even seen what it was that came out of her. She had seen dark shapes dropping from the forms of the other women down to the floor, and she thought she had seen drow soldier moving below, collecting whatever she was birthing, but whatever it was it wasn’t an elf. The pregnancy was too fast… whatever it was took only two weeks to grow to the size of a full grown baby before her body forced it out in a painful process. It didn’t even pause in raping her ass and mouth while she had the monster’s baby… and it barely waited until it had dropped free before a vine was stuffed back up her cunt and began the process of impregnating her once again.
That had been bad enough… but after the first year, it had started fucking her with multiple tentacles at once. She had tried to scream for the first time in months as it worked on stuffing a second tentacle cock up her ravaged asshole, but she had been just as incapable as the last five hundred times she had tried. She wept as her asshole was pummeled, but she hadn’t had any real water to drink in a year – the tears more closely resembled the tree’s nectar. But she couldn’t see that, either. Couldn’t wipe them away or taste them. Couldn’t experience anything but her constant string of rapes.
Just this last year, it had worked a second tentacle down her throat, and a third into her ass. It had tried multiple times with each before, but hadn’t managed to make room. It was evidence of just how thorough her constant rape has broken her that they fit inside her now. She could have been here for a hundred years or for a thousand… she no longer had any sense of time. She seemed to be being kept intact, kept fed, kept healthy… and unless complications from her birth doomed her, she would be here for a very, very long time. Elves had been known to live a thousand years, if they were lucky… or unlucky.
And after spending years in the clutches of the demon tree, Aurellia was pretty sure she was the least lucky elf in the world. She would be like this forever, she knew… she would be the longest lived elf in history, suffer more than any other member of her dying race. Be raped until the sun died and abandoned this world. Every single day would be like this one… until one was different.
She was well into one of her pregnancies when she caught sight of drow soldiers for sure around her… soldiers with axes. She hoped they would cut off her head. Instead, they cut through the vines, severing them, freeing her for the first time since she had been captured in Soleila. Then they had put her onto the back of a spider-lizard with them and, surprisingly gently, escorted her into the city. She saw horrific sights everywhere she looked… women walking on leashes with tails of rotting animal fur protruding from their assholes, heads on spikes somehow finding the oxygen to scream, public rapes of women in the market squares. She tried to look away, but everywhere she looked there was a more horrible thing to see. Awful as it was, she was afraid to close her eyes – Aurellia was convinced that if she opened her eyes, she would find herself back in the clutches of the demon tree.
The soldiers brought her to a mansion, guarded by hundreds of soldiers… and that was where she met Krizoz Flaeran for the first time. Even a glance at him told her that he was highborn – his clothing all trimmed with silver, his cheeks sharp enough that it felt like it cut her eyes to look on them. His voice, however, was calm and soothing as he spoke to her. She was his now, he told her. She was safe and under his protection.
She thought that meant he was going to be the only one to rape her, but she was again surprised. The soldiers took her to room – a far more luxurious room than she had ever had in Soleila – and brought her clothing, medicine, water, and food. The clothing was spun of spider silk and felt like the softest thing to ever touch her skin. When one of the soldiers spread her legs, she was sure she was about to be fucked again, but instead he began to apply the cream inside her ravaged holes… and within a few minutes she began to be able to feel them again. The water was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted, and while the crumbling roll of bread was bland, it was real food… real food, for the first time in years.
And no one raped her that night. Or the next. Or the next. She was beginning to feel that perhaps she had been wrong… perhaps luck had not abandoned her completely… when her stomach churned and she began to give birth. She saw one of the abominations that had been growing in her womb for years for the first time… a tree, vaguely shaped like a female elf child with flaking, starchy skin. In the time it took for the guards to realize what had happened, and to come and take it away from the stunned woman, it had grown into a tree almost as tall as she was. She had no idea what those abominations were, but she was glad to be rid of it… even if it had come from her womb.
The Fifth Year
Koszar Nirune sighed as he slowly rose from his desk, closing the book he had been studying. The book was one of the many spellbooks that Grompf forbade, that of course meant that Koszar needed to know what was in it. He had to admit, the works of this “Karsus” were fascinating. With the room so quiet, he could hear the muffled wails coming from the stone statue he kept by the window, looking out over the stone cavern that held Menzoberranzan within it… outside, visible on Narbondel, they both could see Qi burning brightly at the bottom, and seeing her burning all made Lei’s burns hurt all the more, leaving the crippled elemental screaming.
His favorite statue had lost little of her appeal in the intervening years. With her body fused into some solid hunk of alluring stone, he didn’t need any magic to bind her any longer… he could just leave her there, an ornamentation more than a person. An entertaining ornamentation, though. Most would have a hard time getting use out of her in this state, but Koszar prided himself on his ingenuity. Turning her into a softer form would have been simply enough, but he liked her immobile and helpless… so he had found his own solution, as the dozens of cracked holes in her body gave testament to. A simple transmutation, and his cock was quite literally harder than iron and utterly irresistible… and he could use it on her even in this state.
Of course, her cunt and ass had suffered first. With her standing like this both of her holes were reachable from behind, and he had enjoyed drilling into her, enjoying hearing the way the stone cracked at each thrust and how Lei’s rising screams, even muffled by her stone prison, grew to cover those cracking sounds up. Unfortunately, there had only been so many times he could fuck those holes before they started to get loose and broken. He could have restored her body enough that she could heal herself, but where would the fun in that be? Instead, when he ran out of pleasant holes to fuck, he had simply made more.
Her belly was covered by five holes of shattered stone now, marking where he had drilled his cock into the rock to use her entire body like a fleshlight. Her breasts had a pair, one below the orb and the second right through her nipple. He had found that fucking as ass itself was just as much fun as fucking her asshole… him cum was still leaking from that cracked hole from earlier.
Koszar sighed. He was getting distracted, and he really did need to study these arcane theories if he was ever going to kill Grompf and take his position. He didn’t have time to fucking Lei again right now. Still, it was growing late, and the wine had been going right through him…
He walked over to the chamberpot, lifting off the lid he kept over it. Koszar groaned with released pleasure as he let his bladder go, his piss hitting the surface of the water within with a splash. He really need need to breed himself an heir one of these days. Some of the drow women were kept for public rental these days, specifically for that purpose. Expensive, to rent one for the full year it would take him to breed her, but he could more than afford it. Besides, if it were a daughter, he could sell her back for another year. He knew that the mage school, Sorcere, had enslaved all the female mage students themselves during the rebellion and kept them… their gifts too rare to waste on the common population. Maybe he would get one of those… as a Master of the city’s mage tower, he would have the right.
He shook his cock, forcing the last few drops out to splash down into the chamberpot. Thinking about one of the drow mages serving his cock for a year had him hard, so he supposed he could do with a bit of a distraction. “Get up,” he ordered. “And leave the shit behind. I don’t want you making a mess on the floor again.”
Shelan rose slowly up out of the formless pool he usually kept her in, stepping out of the chamberpot before sinking down to her knees before him… the picture of a well-broken slave. Only the tears still filling her eyes showed how much this bothered her still, how much she hated it. She looked pristine on the outside, cloaked in a clear layer of clean water that he gave her once a week for his own comfort, but inside of that he could see the piss, the cum, the mess. Once in a while, he would let her lose some of the waste she carried around… but never the cum. For the rest of her life, she would be forced to carry around every single load one of her rapists had ever shot into her.
Koszar pointed at the desk, and Shelan began to crawl towards it, slipping underneath it as the drow wizard sat down before the book again. Her mouth closed over his cock without a word, silently sucking at him while he got back to reading… as best as he could while distracted by the elemental’s talented mouth. While he could have used the binding on her to perform the actions exactly the way he thought she should on a second to second basis, it would have been an unnecessary distraction. In the last five years, he had taught her exhaustively everything there was to know about cocksucking… as it turned out, when a girl was boiled for the slightest mistake, she became extremely well motivated to become the best little cocksucker in the underdark. At this point, Shelan knew what he wanted better than he did.
Koszar leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and smiled. This was perfect.
The Seventh Year
Nakiasha Liarel writhed in the thin dirt of the underdark, her entire body shuddering as she came… again.
She hadn’t come down to Menzoberranzan in a coffin. Instead, the goblins under chief Tashiatka had declared the disgraced archer their property, and smuggled her into their gear, walked down into the darkness with the elf carried between them under a blanket. Down in the slave pens, the goblins had bartered with their overseer, paying him in trinkets to turn a blind eye to the slave elf that the slave goblins were not supposed to have. She had considered herself lucky… the goblins were nowhere near as violent to her as most of the other races were to her sisters. She still considered herself lucky… she thought… but now she wasn’t so sure.
The goblins loved playing with her body. Not even necessarily raping her, although they did plenty of that as well… playing with her. These goblins were far, far smarter than those she had heard about the surface – they were inventors, tinkers, and experimenters, and they loved using their most recent creations on her. And they liked making her cum.
At first, that hadn’t seen so bad. On the surface, she had never gotten any real attention. Now she had too much, but… it was hard to hate, even if it was unwanted. All she needed to do was listen, and she could hear the screams of hundreds of women within earshot that weren’t so lucky.
The problem was, they never let her stop.
Someone had brought an alchemist’s stock the attention of the goblins, and they hadn’t stopped experimenting with the potions ever since. Already Tashiatka was proving himself as clever as a master alchemist of the elves, and he was growing better and better with each day – discovering how potions interacted, and how to intensify them beyond anything that that Nakiasha could have imagined. They had always loved making her shudder and lose herself in pleasure whether she wanted to or not… but a year ago, Tashiatka had produced a potion of his own design.
That was when things had gotten bad.
He called it “Phoenix’s Kiss…” The goblin believed it might be the most powerful aphrodisiac ever made. Nakiasha could believe it. Even seconds after he had squirted the first bit of it onto her tongue, Nakiasha felt like her entire body was on fire. When someone even brushed her with their fingers, it felt like the flames spread outward from that tough in rippling waves. She found herself nearly cumming when a goblin touched her arms, or legs, or face… and when they so much as brushed her tits she came screaming. However, that wasn’t even the best part, as far as they were concerned. The real best part was that it only affected women.
When Tashiatka spread some on his cock, at first she was just glad that her rapists were using lube for a change. That opinion had changed almost immediately as he shoved himself into her ass and the drug was absorbed along with the thrust. Nakiasha felt her sanity shatter on that that very first pump as she came, one continuous orgasm that didn’t top until long, long after he had finished ass-fucking her. She had slowly put herself back together after that, taking long minutes to remember who she was, where she was, what her name was. Then the next one had raped her and she had lost it all again. She came and came and came until her muscles felt like solid knots, until her back arched from arcing, until it was hard to breathe and the pleasure was literally suffocating her. Then the next day, he came back with a modified dose, and they began testing that on her as well. And then the next. And the next.
By now, the effect was permanent. Even when she wasn’t being touched, being drugged, her body felt mad with ripples of pleasure coursing through her. Just rolling on the ground send shudders through her, and the breeze across her clit made her cum. Nakiasha had lost herself completely. She couldn’t remember anything about her life before this anymore… she couldn’t remember anything but the last orgasm, and that the next one was just ahead. She slept when she passed out, and woke when she came so hard that she couldn’t sleep through it anymore. And Tashiatka kept coming up with stronger and stronger doses.
In intermittent burst of sanity, she had enough of a mind to realize that this was going to kill her. That her brain was all but melting behind the senstion… that she would become a braindead husk, or just die of a heartattack. Unfortunately, she was wrong. She had no way of knowing it had already been seven years like this… that the potion the goblins had been giving her for the last years was keeping her alive, keeping her mind intact enough to appreciate what was being done to her. The years since she had first taken the Phoenix’s Kiss felt like one long day, one string of orgasms that seemed to last forever. She might go insane, but she was trapped in that insanity, unable to escape her awareness of what was being done to her.
And, as she looked up and saw the goblins approaching with todays new dose, Nakiasha shuddered and came again at the mere thought of her coming defilement, and she couldn’t remember why she would want to.
The Eighth Year
“That’s right…” Master Phentix Nitherag said, gesturing with his hands. “Set it down there… gently now… gently…”
The pair of stone golems obeyed every word and gesture, lowering the wrought-iron box to the stone floor with a clang. Phentix smiled… this would be the one, he was sure of it. He ran a hand over the metal surface of the prison, certain that this would be the one to succeed… and ignoring the furious growls coming from the air holes in the box. “You’ve come an awfully long way, friend,” he said affectionately as he looked at the box with a wide smile. He looked back at the golems. “Take him to room 43. I’ll find a subject for him.”
As the golems lifted the furiously shaking box, Master Phentix shook his head in happy consideration of the obvious strength and vitality of the creature. He lived a blessed life… how many others got to study the passion of their lives? Other Masters of Sorcere wasted their time studying arcane formulae and ancient dusty tomes… vying for rank in the wizard’s tower. Phentix was after far more interesting fare – the secrets of life itself.
He whistled happily as he strode down the hallway, deeper into his laboratory… plucking a sheaf of paper from the hands of his research assistant as he did and flipping through the notes. He frowned as he noted at that he was almost out of research subjects again… he would need to remind the brothels of his standing offer. Still, he had enough for the moment. He noted an instructions to his assistant to have food brought to cell 12… she looked healthy enough, and he wanted to put his best foot forward. Then he went to see her himself.
He could see the elf right through the wall, although she couldn’t see him… curled up on the ground and softly weeping as she stuffed her face with one of the slave-bread rolls that made up the majority of the feed for the slaves in the city. Her left arm was blackened and shriveled, and the left side of her face was equally burned and ruined. Someone had played with fire with this one, and gotten out of hand. After a slave was this badly damaged, the brothels had little use for her but to try to charge a nominal fee to let something murder her for fun. Phentix had a standing offer to all the brothels in the city, however – he would purchase any disfigured or ruined girl, so long as she was otherwise healthy. The slave brand on her had been burned off in the same accident that had maimed her, but her papers gave her name as Deidala… and to Phentix’s eyes, the important parts of her for his work appeared to be in good shape. She would do.
“Deliver her to room 43,” he instructed his research assistant. “But don’t open the gate until I arrive. Then join me at room 1.” He sighed as he picked up another sheaf of paper. Duty before pleasure, he reminded himself. He might be excited about his newest subject, but first he needed to collect data on the rest of his subjects. So, one by one, he walked past the first 42 rooms, looking into them through the one-way walls that made up their imprisonment and recording data on what he saw.
His subject of study… his passion… was chimeric creatures. There was something about them, some combination of magic and biology that allowed impossible physiology to emerge… somewhere in there, he was sure, was the secret of life itself. He had to know what conditions allowed that chimeric process to happen. He needed to create his own hybrids and observe it, see how it happened, what process permitted it. He would find it… he knew he would. It was just a matter of persistence.
So, outside of room one, he calmly made notes as a screaming brunette elf was raped by an owlbear.
The creature dwarfed the elf that it was ramming its cock into, outweighing her by thousands of pounds and using that mass to hammer her with his cock. Drugs put into its food ensured that it was always prepared to breed, and going to do its very best job to put a baby in that elf’s womb. Feathers covered the thick, shaggy coat of its bear-like body, and the limpid pupils of its great round eyes stared furiously from its beaked owlish head as it glared down at its mate. The owlbear’s reputation for ferocity, aggression, stubbornness, and sheer ill temper makes it one of the most feared predators of the wild, but it was their sheer strangeness that attracted Phentix to the creatures.
A simple spell told him everything he needed to know… she wasn’t pregnant yet. Maybe this rape would be the one. He had high hopes for his owlbear… unlike the subject in room 5. The Chimera had three elves in there with him, one for each of his three cocks… experience had taught him that if he put fewer than three with it, the heads would fight over the subjects and they were unlikely to survive the ensuing struggle. It was easiest just to give the beast a elf fucktoy for each dick. The large monstrosity was an especially monstrous combination of creatures… It has the hindquarters of a big goat and the forequarters of a great lion. It’s dragon wings flapped idly as it fucked, and it had three heads: that of a horned goat, a maneless lion, and a fierce dragon. Currently, the goat was sleeping… and so was its plaything, lucky girl. The other two were not so fortunate.
The chimera had been one of his oldest subjects, and unfortunately at this point Phentix was sure that if it was capable of breeding with elves under any combination of drugs and magical conditions, his testing would have exposed it by now. The subject was a dud… but it was so happy with its fucktoys that it seemed a shame to take them away… they would be there for the rest of their lives. Still, he cast his spell again and confirmed none of them had managed to get pregnant.
It wasn’t until he got to room 20 that he ran into something that broke the routine. He sighed in disgust as he watched the Wyvern rape a limp corpse. “What number was this one? 11?”
“12” his assistance said, making a note on the paper.
“Up the dose on his drugs again,” Phentix ordered, “and arrange for number thirteen to be delivered tomorrow.” He watched the winged creature, a mixture of dragon and scorpion, fuck the body for a few more minutes before he moved on. 21, 22, 23… no pregnancies. He noted that the hippogriff in 24 was looking lean, and instructed his assistant to make to note that the body from the wyvern’s room and two others from storage should be delivered to it tonight… the bodies of dead subjects made excellent treats for his precious prospects.
Phentix walked between the cages, watching beast after beast subject their elvish mates to vicious fuckings. It was, he had to admit, quite a show… not that he thought of it that was. This was research… this was science. One of the mages he had used to work with had suggested once that they charge a fee to let other drow watch. Agast, Phentix had had him killed. One of these days, he was going to succeed… and he couldn’t risk have anyone else see what the conditions had lead to his discovery of the secret of life.
No pregnancies. Not one. Again. Phentix bemoaned his fate. He had been doing this for twenty years, although it was only in the last eight that he had been able to increase the size and efficiency of his experiments this much, and so far he hadn’t found a single case of a chimeric being able to breed with an elf. Thousands and thousands of individual rapes, under hundreds of conditions with dozens of different fertility drugs, and so far, nothing. Failure after failure.
But he wouldn’t give up. He was sure that he would succeed… he would keep trying to until he had exhausted every single possibility for a cross-species elf chimeric. Every single one of them.
At last, he reached 43, where his new hope for success prowled furiously through the room. The Manticore was as beautiful as Phentix could have hoped. The size of a spider lizard, the Manticore had the body of a lion, the wings of a dragon, and an almost-elvish face filled with sharp teeth. It’s tail, belonging to no animal that the wizard recognized, bristled with spikes, as it its mane… and the already exposed cock dragging beneath its body. The butchered, bloody corpse of an elf girl laying in the corner torn him that that it had eaten the drugged food prepared for it, and the pacing was further evidence that it was ready to breed.
“Introduce them,” Phentix ordered, and his assistance turned the wheel that caused the door to open… and let Deidala stumble into the room.
The Manticore didn’t care about her ruined beauty, or that she only had one arm. He didn’t care that she had dead eyes and rarely struggled when she was raped anymore. All he cared was that she had tight holes… at least by the standard of his monstrous cock. And in Phentix’s opinion as he watched, Deidala lack of struggle and reaction to being fucked had been greatly overstated – as she was introduced to the creature’s barbed cock, she reacted plenty as far as he was concerned.
The show was arousing enough that it was growing distracting. He snapped his fingers, and his research assistant dropped to her knees, quickly parting his robes with practiced fingers and swallowing his cock all the way down her gullet in a single motion. He had trained her well… Chloe had been a rival Master of Sorcere before the fall, one of the drow that had doubted him the most. She was going to be here when he succeeded… he would make sure of that.
As the drow wizard he hated most lovingly sucked on his cock, Phentix watched the Manticore rape Deidala with eager eyes. This one would be the one… he could feel it…
The Tenth Year
Irae strode confidently down the street, the only free woman left in the entire city and reveled in the scope of the transformation she had wrought. All around her, the only drow women she saw wore collars and slave brands, and if any wore clothing at all it showed off their assets more than it maintained any modesty. More than one of them gave her a dirty look as she passed, but most drow – male and female both – dropped their gaze and tried to escape the High Priestess’ notice. The surface elves, those that were weren’t in the middle of being raped, only looked at her long enough to realize that she wasn’t one of them before their eyes widened in horror after realizing that the Albino was the architect of their destruction.
In truth, Irae had nothing against her sex, nor any care for the elevation of men… she left matters of that to Nimor and his Jaezred Chaulssin. Matters of philosophy, the supremacy of one sex over another, mattered not to her in the slightest. The only thing she cared for was revenge. The priestesses of Lolth had cast her out for being born a Szarkai. Her mother, one of the priestesses of that unholy order, had tried to have her killed. For that crime, she had shattered their order… and the simmering rage of the men that had held down so long made the ideal tool. Nimor might be the Annointed Blade of the Jaezred Chaulssin, but he was far from the only agent of his father – the fall of Menzoberra’s Jewel had triggered uprising in every drow enclave in the underdark. She wasn’t sure if she was now the only free drow woman in the darkness, but she suspected that she was… and far from filling her with concern, she felt only satisfaction at the shattering of Lolth’s faith. Done by her hand, revenge for the insult they had given her by trying to have her killed, and more damningly, by dismissing her and casting her out.
It hadn’t been as big of a crime as the exile of the drow into Underdark, of course. That betrayal had put the faith of Lolth in charge in the first place and had lead directly to her own dismissal… but that debt had also come due now, thanks to her.
She walked the path up to the raised plateau of Qu’ellarz’orl, the former home of the ruling families of the city. They were more dispersed now, but it was the location of the palace that had once belonged to House Baenre, and the Queen of the city… so now it was Irae’s own home. The path itself, however, was one of her favorite places in the city. Heads on spikes lined the road… drow and surface elf alike. Some of her favorite trophies of her victory over the faith of Lolth and the hated surface elves. Eyes of blue and green and brown and glowing drow red followed her as she walked the path, jaws working as they tried breathlessly to scream or beg for death. Irae would let them… eventually. When she was dead. Perhaps.
Some of her trophies were covered in cum, she noted with a wrinkled nose. She knew that the heads were popular to use for sport by passing men, and that was good – further humiliation for the women who deserved this kind of eternal torment – but if their faces were so throughly plastered she couldn’t recognize them, it wouldn’t be good. She made a note to have one of the slaves walk the path and lick their faces clean tonight.
The palace was enormous… far too large for just one woman who lived alone. It didn’t matter. It was hers, and she dared anyone to try and take it from her, knowing what she had done to the last elves who had tried to take something from her. Keya opened the door for her as she approached, the undead elf woman one of the servants allowed in to tend to Irae’s needs, and Irae was quick to instruct her to have the trophies cleaned before she forgot. Then, after a meal and a glass of her favorite wine, she headed up the balcony that was her favorite place in his palace… the best view offered of the entire city.
The pale-skinned rug was soft beneath her feet as she strode up the balcony, and with each step the necromancer could feel the torment of the soul she had bound to it. Queen Gaelira’s soul hadn’t been allowed to go free… Irae had bound her to her new floor mat, left to eternally relive the torment of gagging on her son’s cock while she was flayed alive. She leaned over the railing, looking out at the city that she had made her own, and smiled at her favorite trophy. “They tell legends about you, you know,” she said with a grin.
Queen Quenthel Baenre’s head rested on the balcony next to her, impaled where she could see both the city and Irae. The necromantic magic had kept her perfectly preserved… she still looked every bit as fresh as she had the day that Irae had watched her be strangled… perfect and beautiful, the Queen and High Priestess of Lolth was her pride as joy as a prize, the symbol of how far she had gone, and who she had taken it from. “The Queen so pathetic that she allowed her entire gender to fall. Weak. Pathetic. Disgraceful. I didn’t expect many of the women to start worshipping Kiaransalee after the fall of Lolth but I certainly underestimated most of your fellow drow’s hatred of you. They burn you in effigy when they get a chance, you know.”
Irae laughed. “Nothing lasts forever. In a few thousand years, maybe some cocky, talented woman very much like Nimor will revolt and will lead to the women taking back power in this city… but it won’t be in Lolth’s name. And they will remember you… the woman who led them to damnation. That’s why I’ve made sure you are going to last forever, my Queen. I’ll be long gone by then… but you won’t be. You’ll be here to greet them… and I only hope I get a chance to watch what they do to you from the next life.”
The look of rage on Quenthel’s face was delicious. Irae flicked her nose condescendingly just to make her try – pointlessly – to bite at her. Good luck without a neck. “Tell me, oh whore queen. What bothers you most? That you failed so utterly that your kingdom, goddess, your very sex has fallen? Or that I rule your kingdom more completely than you ever did?” She chuckled as she watched Keya lashing a random elf slave from behind as she drove the bitch down the street, where that one elf would need to lick the cum of thousands of men off the heads of drow and elf alike. Irae’s victory was not yet complete… but by the goddess, it was good to enjoy the spoils.
The Fifteenth Year
Taeri D’lae looked around Menzoberranzan with a profound sense of distaste. The city was beautiful, she supposed… if you were only going to look no deeper than the colors, the faerie fire lighting the sculptures, the stone buildings. The beauty was no deeper than the surface… this city was ugly to the bone. This city was the last place in the world she wanted to be… but it was where her people had been taken. So it was where she needed to go.
The surface had become increasingly hostile in the last few years… enough so that Taeri was willing to consider as insane of a plane as this… but she saw the extinction of her people looming. She had spent the last ten years moving from town to town, finding captives elves, ambushing individual drow assassins… and she had made no progress towards freeing her people. The truth was, while she might be a warrior, she was no hero, no royal, no leader. She was skilled, but she didn’t inspire others to follow her.
The princess was still alive somewhere in this damned city… the last surviving royal, so far as Taeri knew. She was going to find her.
Creeping through the alley outside of one of the drow’s whorehouses, Taeri winced as she stepped in a puddle of something that… she probably didn’t want to examine too closely. This was one of the poorer districts of the city, reserved for house-less drow. Laborers, workers, unskilled craftsmen. One step above slaves, as she understood it. To call this alley a street would be an insult to every other street, but Taeri needed to keep out of sight. Her disguise was only going to take her so far – she had originally thought to hide as a drow female, before she realized that would be nearly as bad in this city as just walking into the street as herself, so she had disguised herself as a man… but her pretty features could only be dulled so much, her large breasts only bound so tight. If she drew much attention to herself, someone would realize what she was… and then it would be short battle with only one end.
Even among this foul city… and she had seen no shortage of horror since sneaking past its borders… this brothel seemed a fleck of deeper darkness within the black of the city. Evil radiated from this place, a tangible force that carried with it the smell of suffering. Every instinct in her told Taeri divinely-attuned senses screamed at her to leave this place along, to turn around and go away. But if she did that… her race would continue slowly dying out, and courage had never a thing she’d lacked in.
Thankfully, the brothel was not a well-built structure. The fixtures keeping a window on the second floor were weak, and it only took Taeri a minute to work them loose and slip inside… and that was when she began to hear the screaming. As foul as this place seemed from the outside, it was far worse on the inside. She raised the holy symbol of Corona to her lips and kissed it, but so dark was the evil in this place that it seemed to dim even the brilliance of her goddess’ light – It seemed like her goddess was far, far away, and her light provided no comfort or heat here. She shuddered. The princess had been in a place like this for fifteen years…
Moving gracefully in her stolen Piwafwi cloak, she stepped out into the hallway. Men roamed this place, and she tried to look inconspicous… thankfully, she quickly realized that all the men here had more pressing things to pay attention to. Dozens of women were chained up in side room, beaten down, weeping or screaming as they were hurt or raped.
In her infiltration, in her time on the surface, in the world since the drow had destroyed her kingdom, Taeri had seen depravity… but the sheer concentration of it here was overwhelming. One way she looked, three men pinning a pretty blonde elf down to one of the tables, making her suck them off one at a time while they crammed empty bottles of booze up her holes. A weeping brunette, barely of age, wept as her bound breasts were whipped, her vain thrashing in search of an escape bringing pleasure to man holding her arms behind her and skewering her ass on his cock. There were even a few drow women here, although not many… and with each atrocity she witnessed, her heart burned hotter for the women here. She longed to save them all and she promised herself that she would… but she needed to start with the ones that weren’t being observed. After she had gotten the princess free, she would do everything in her power to see this entire city burned and buried beneath a collapsing cavern, all her sister elves freed.
Sadly, she was beginning to realize that would be much more difficult than she had anticipated. The brothel was bigger than she had thought, and filled with men… finding one specific woman in this mess was a nightmare, and she didn’t even know if she was supposed to look up or down. She didn’t know the rules of this place, expected behavior, payment… there were a million ways she could expose herself. What she needed was someone to tell her where the princess would be… she needed a guide.
It took her an hour to find a good prospect… a room with only a single girl in it, with only one man abusing her. The pretty blonde elf was being forced to suck on his cock, something she had evidently been trained to do quite well. She would need to do. Taeri kicked the door shut behind her as she entered, making the man raping the elf look up for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back onto his victim… a fatal mistake. A moment later, Taeri grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat enough to ram a dagger through it. He sputtered breathlessly, spitting up blood, and dropped soundlessly in a dead heap at her feet a few seconds later.
The elf woman looked up at her with wide eyes. As Taeri looked down at her, she realized that the woman was in worse shape that she had originally thought. Barely an inch of the blonde girls skin was not covered with whip welts, and it was only a miracle or some enchantment that had kept her from succumbing to infection. Her pale blonde hair cascaded down over her face, half concealing her eyes as she looked up at her savior. “Hey,” she whispered, almost afraid to talk any louder. “I’m going to get you out of here… I need to know if you’ve seen the Princess.”
The blonde woman was panting in terror. “Are you… are you really… here…” she whispered.
The poor thing seemed terrified. “Yes,” Taeri said, trying again to be encouraging with her tone, with her body language. “Can you help me? I’ll get you out of here, but I need your help to…”
Unfortunately for her, Taeri had no way of knowing that her information was incomplete. That while Princess Elasha’s owner, Lord Jegdrym Philyrr, did indeed own this brothel, is was one of many the wealth drow lord owned, and Elasha wasn’t actually in any of them… she was his personal plaything. That she had picked the most dangerous brothel in the city to try to infiltrate… and that some of the elves were more broken than others after fifteen years. And she had no way of knowing that Gwynnestri Olowynn had gone completely mad long before she had arrived in Menzoberranzan.
The Gwynnestri interrupted her. “You’re going to get me killed…” she moaned. “I don’t want to die… I don’t… want to die…” she blinked rapidly. “I’ll… I’ll tell them! They’ll surely show me mercy then!” Her voice grew louder, and more frantic, with each world. As she tilted her head further up, the hair slid away from her face, and Taeri could finally, too late, see the madness lurking in those haunted eyes.
“Shhh,” Taeri said, “You need to calm down, stay quiet…”
But Gwynnestri wasn’t listening anymore. She was shouting. “Intruder! Intruder! INTRUDER!”
“No! No, no, no…” Taeri said frantically, shaking her head. But the other woman did not stop her screaming. She clamped a hand down over her mouth. “Be quiet!” she hissed. “I’m here to save you… I can get you out of here… but only if you stay…”
The guard kicked the door hard enough door almost flew off its hinges and stepped into the room, sword drawn. Taeri cursed as a second, and then a third, entered as well, and she spun, drawing her sword, resigned to fighting. Maybe she could cut her way free enough to disappear, come back later. She could fight them. She could…
She never saw it coming as Gwynnestri slammed her elbow into the back of her neck, driving her unconscious to the floor in a second.
Soon, she would experience most of the depravities she had witnessed first hand… but she would never find the princess she sought. And the next time he had his friends over for drinks, Jegdrym Philyrr had a good laugh with them about how one of the few remaining elvish heroes had delivered herself into his brothels.
The Eighteenth Year
Tali quivered with joy as another one of her beloved children sank its ovipositor into her body. “Children” wasn’t the most accurate term – something like great great great great great great great grandchild would have been more appropriate – but such silly things were no use keeping track of. They were just her children to her, and she loved them all so much.
Her body twitched pleasantly with the arrival of each new egg. She would have licked her lips in eager anticipation if her hungry children hadn’t chewed both lips and tongue off ages ago. She’d sacrificed so much of herself to help feed her babies: her eyes, her nose, her breasts, her internal organs. Even the hole her wonderful child was making love to couldn’t rightly be called just her cunt or just her ass, not after its great great great grandparents had finished devouring the flesh that separated the two.
Tali didn’t know much about mortal bodies, but she knew that no creature should have been able to lose so much of herself and still be alive. It was a miracle, a true blessed miracle, that she was able to remain in her home of darkness and dirt no matter how thoroughly her body was hollowed out. She’d been down there for decades before she’d figured out the source of her luck: elementals were Shattered not by simple death, but by destruction of their essence. Fire elementals died when every last flame went out, earth elementals when they were crushed into powder, water when they became completely dry. And Wind… Wind could only die if it was dispersed.
Has she been above ground, that fate would’ve arrived in moments, her tattered body dissolving easily in the breeze, but here in this stagnant cavern, miles below the ground? Where the closest thing to a breeze was the movement of air caused by her children thrusting into her? It was impossible. No matter what became of her body, not matter how much of her was chewed up a minuscule piece at a time, she would never disperse and never Shatter. This cave would be her home forever. What a glorious life she’d found!
By the time her child was done adding its eggs, more than a dozen others inside of her had already hatched, sending shivers of ecstasy through her as hundreds of new children explored and tasted their loving incubator, just as thousands upon thousands upon thousands of their ancestors had done over the years. There wouldn’t be much of anything for them to find, since by now she was little more than a translucent bag of skin stuffed to bulging with eggs and children, but she wished them luck.
Already another child’s ovipositor was sliding into her so sweetly to bless her with more eggs, and she could hear the delicate tap-tap-tap of dozens more patiently awaiting their turn. If Tali still had a heart, it would have swelled with love for each and every one of them. Such wonderful, caring children she had. Her beautiful family that grew and grew with each passing moment.
Her life was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss that would never end. And it would be even better soon, so much better, once the many children making their home on her face finished chewing off what was left of her ears. Their tiny mouths made progress slow, but they’d manage it within a few years.
It was going to be such a relief to no longer hear that endless screaming.
The Twentieth Year
Aurellia Flaeran’s life was wonderful.
When she had first been brought to the estate of Krizoz Flaeran, she had spent almost a year waiting for the other shoe to drop and crush her… but it never came. Krizoz had fed her, clothed her, surrounded her with guards that kept other men away from her. No one touched her against her will any longer. From what she could see from his high balconies almost every house in the city had a woman or two as a slave… but Krizoz did not. No surface elves other than her. Not even any of the drow women that had been overthrown. Even so, it had been nearly a year of careful courtship before she had let him take her to bed.
Her husband… husband!… was different from the rest. He was loving, caring, doting. He might be drow, but the way he acted, the way he looked at her… it made her think that the legends had been wrong. That not every drow was a monster who had deserved exile. That banishing an entire race for the sins of their forebearers had been a foul crime.
When she had had a daughter, she had feared that it would change things… it had not. If anything, he was a more loving father than he was a husband, and protected his children – her five daughters, now – every bit as thoroughly from the insane society of butchers beyond his doors as he did her. Sirenia, her eldest, was his favorite… he doted on that girl, payed her all the attention in the world, and Aurellia couldn’t blame him – the girl was incredible, smart and beautiful and wonderful and theirs. They had made her together… the two of them.
It was a small thing, in a world gone mad… but it gave her hope that the world could some day be made right. Not all the drow were monsters, they were just trapped in a monstrous society. Their marriage, their children, was proof that a union between their races could produce something wonderful. They would find a way to share that gift with the world, someday… together. They would make it right.
A knock came at the door, and even after years and years and years as his wife, years since she had been raped, the noise still made her jump. She told herself that she was being silly, that nothing here was going to hurt her… but it still look her a minute to calm her racing heart. “Yes?” she asked.
“Dinner is in ten minutes,” a guard said through the door. “The Master wanted me to let you know.”
Aurellia beamed. It was a special occasion, after all… their eldest’s birthday. In drow society, girl children stepped being whelps and were considered women when they reached sixteen years old… and Sirenia was half drow. It was time for her to be considered a adult… tonight, she would celebrate with their daughter, and welcome her into the new world that she and Krizoz were trying to create.
Tonight was just for them, so she gently put her other daughters to bed, one at a time. Little Maseria, just two years old, went last… clutching at the roll of flakey bread that Aurellia had handed all her daughters to see them fed tonight. The bread was mostly tasteless, when it didn’t taste outright foul, but it made up a large portion of the food she had seen from the drow – it must be easy to grow.
With a bounce in her step, Aurellia pranced to the door and out into the corridor, looking resplendent in the golden dress that her husband had given her as a gift. It would have looked ridiculous on a drow complexion and with their silver hair, but on her it made her shine like Corona herself. The guards fell into step behind her… for years, that had made her feel threatened, how close they usually were to her. It took years of none of them touching her, and watching from the balcony, to realize that that level of protection for someone her husband cared about was actually wise. She tried not to shy away from them… they didn’t deserve that she always thought of her numerous drow rapists from the sack of Soleila when she saw soldiers.
Her husband waited for for her in the dining room, and Aurellia threw herself into his arms, pressing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Despite everything, despite how they had met in this hell, she truly, truly loved this man… it was almost worth what she had suffered to have found him. After they broke their kiss, Aurellia blushed to have acted like a young girl again, but she supposed love could do that. She looked around. “Where is our daughter?”
“Getting ready I believe…” Krizoz said with an indulgent smile. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute. You know how she likes to make herself look absolutely perfect.”
Aurellia opened her mouth to laugh, to agree that she really did, when the doors parted and four servants came in bearing covered dishes, setting them on the table. “It appears dinner is here ahead of our daughter,” she said, and her husband laughed. The sound of it made her happy, and she laughed as well. “Should we wait for her?”
He paused, considering. “No, I don’t think so. We wouldn’t want the food to get cold… I had this made special, after all. I’m sure she’d want us to enjoy it.”
Lifting up the covered dishes one by one, Aurellia’s mouth began to water at the unbelievable smell of cooked meat. One of the baskets contained those damned rolls, but beneath the others… She had smelled some meat before in this place – generally Roathe steaks. It was greasy and fatty, and while it was better than the bread it wasn’t anything to be excited about this. This, however… this smelled like the most delicious thing she would ever get to put in her mouth. After catching a whiff and feeling her stomach growl, she didn’t need much encouragement… surely Sirenia would be here shortly, and it would serve her right for being late to such a perfect meal.
It tasted even better than it smelled. Juicy and firm and utterly delicious… she hadn’t had anything this good since she had lived in Soleila… possibly ever… and she relished it, cutting mouthful after mouthful off the meat shanks and swallowing them. Across her, her husband ate just as voraciously, a smile on his face never seeming to fade. At last, she sat back, unable to eat another bite.
“That was just as delicious as I hoped it would be,” Krizoz said with a slow nod.
“I hope we left enough for Sirenia!” Aurellia said, shocked at how lost she had gotten in the good food, that she had forgotten that their daughter still wasn’t here. She thought to ask again where she was, but as she looked across the table at her husband, she saw the basket of rolls again… sitting in the middle of he table. They hadn’t been touched once… not by her, and not by her husband, either. “Ask you a question, lover?”
“Of course,” he said, leaning forward like he was eager. He licked his lips, taking in a tiny bit of meat flavor that lingered on his lips.
“Why bother with the rolls?” she asked. “I mean… surely I can’t be alone in thinking they aren’t very good. Nutritous enough I suppose, if everyone can live off them… but with a meal like this, why have them at all?”
Krizoz smiled at her. “They’re here as a kind of celebration, too,” he admitted. “Without them, I never would have met you.” When she tilted her head, he leaned further forward and continued. “They are foul, aren’t they? Almost all of them are like that. No one likes them, but they keep all the slaves fed, and they’re plentiful. I was the one who discovered them, after the rebellion… we made them, but no one ever wanted to eat them. They were always disgusting… until I realized that one batch sold far better than the others. It seemed like people actually enjoyed those one. I tried one myself and I had to admit… it was actually good.”
“I… don’t understand,” Aurellia protested. “These aren’t good at all!”
“No, they aren’t,” he agreed. “They aren’t the same batch. There haven’t been any more of those since I rescued you from the tree.” He smiled at her. “That was where they came from, you see. The plants that they can incubate in you grow very quickly… and they can be ground up and processed. And the slaves in the city have plentiful food.”
Aurellia didn’t understand what she was hearing. That… thing… that plant-like elf woman that she had birthed in her first days here… it had been slaughtered for food? She remembering thinking of it as an abomination, and thoughts of it had made her shudder for years afterward… but surely it didn’t deserve that! “Krizoz!” she protested. “I… I’ve eaten those!” Horror spread across her face as she grew more and more upset. She stood up. “I fed our daughters those! They… they’re elvish children! We can’t feed them that!”
“Of course we can,” Krizoz said as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “It’s what all the elves eat.”
She was growing… angry. She hadn’t felt like she could get angry anymore… it actually felt good. “How can you not see that is wrong!” she said in disbelief. Surely this man, her husband, could be made to realize… this had to be a cultural difference between their people… something that they would work through. “We can’t feed our children… we can’t… can’t…” She trailed off as a tiny thought began to whisper in the back of her head.
“So when I found an elf who could manage to make that disgusting bread taste good,” Krizoz continued, “I knew she had to be something special… and I wondered how much better it could be. The problem was, there was only one of you. I was worried the others wouldn’t be nearly as special.” The drow lord licked his lips again. “I needn’t have worried.”
That whisper in her mind was becoming a scream. “Where… where is our daughter?”
Krizoz gestured at the remnants of their completed meal. “The farmers insist that Roathe raised with love end up tasting better. Sounded like nonsense to me, but turns out it was true. She was well worth waiting for, wasn’t she?”
Aurellia began to scream. She didn’t stop as her husband brought the limbless, titless, still living remnants of Sirenia in, raping her and impregnating her with a future meal. She didn’t stop as she was chained in his bedroom to continue serving her husband as a plaything, to pump out more daughters for him. She never stopped, until the day when she was finally permitted to die, more than century and thirty more daughters later.
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