The Darkblade Humiliation

Malus mumbled in his eternal rest, lost to the foggy aspiration that only a hard night of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk tabloid, an unusual luxuriousness but one necessary for the saving of what little sanity he retained ; after the chaos, and the battles against said topsy-turvydom, of the sea-borne excursion against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled speculation which had successfully claimed the life story of his beloved brother Bruglir but failed to deliver the drumhead of either Urial or Yasmir, after all that time on the cursed water, Malus needed a day or two of true, pure balance. He dozed on in this refutable build sign, still groggy but, after a steaming bath, at least no longer grimy.

He did n't stir at all when the door to his private bedchamber opened and a hooded figure slipped inside. The shadow who 'd entered the room seemed to hesitate at the visual modality of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its chief. Malus let out a cranky snore and muttered some antediluvian hex, giving the build a start. The could-be bravo strode over to the silken bed and loomed over the man known as Darkblade. The hooded mortal began to botch up in the sheepfold of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some poisoned dagger or some early weapon of murder.

Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some unseeable enemy, then bolted upright piano, sweating. The shadow was taken by surprisal and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepy-eyed eyes widened in alarm clock at the sight of this interloper. He instinctively reached for his blade, but it was n't where he 'd give it. His legs were already swinging out to draw tangency with the ground as he prepared to shout for his retainers.

The anatomy threw back their hood. `` My Creator, it 's me ! ``

Malus narrowed his eyes, the cry for Hauclir dying in his throat. The utter word still came out regardless, now edged with anger. `` Hauclir. '' It managed to be as a good deal a interrogation as a threat or a command. The highborn had become accustomed to employing all three tones at once with this damnable mercenary.

'' Aye, my Divine. '' Hauclir gave a curt bow.

The highborn eased himself back onto his bed. It must accept been the hour of the wolf or there abouts ; this was no clock time to wake a resting baronial. Facing the ceiling, where, to the flesh house 's deferred payment, all right human skin had been hung from myopic sweetener to cover the brickwork, Malus addressed his retainer. `` What in the Dark mother 's name are you doing in my bedroom ? I expressly odered you to ward my door and leave me in peace until first light. ``

Hauclir grimaced, as if shy what to say. After a instant he cleared his throat. `` I brought the ... goods you asked of me, my Lord. ``

'' What good ? '' Malus barked.

'' You know ... '' Hauclir looked over his shoulder at the assailable door. He had n't thought to close it. `` The private goods. ``

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

Hauclir took a late breath. `` The lubricant. ``

Malus paled and craned his cervix to look at his servant. `` What did you say ? ``

'' The lubricant, my lord. '' The erstwhile police chief produced the ampule from his robes. A clear liquidity glistened in a niggling shabu bottleful, lit by the crackling illumination of two low-burning brasier in the expensive chamber.

'' I did n't ask for any ... such things. '' Malus swallowed hard. He had no retention of asking for such an indecent thing. Even with his header still buzzing with drink, he felt something stir late inside his body.

'' Perhaps my lord has drunk too much of the business firm vino. You asked me not four minute ago. distinguish me you wanted the finest human spittle. ``

Malus could have got sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his costa, slithering about his full of life organs. His heatbeat quickened. Was the daemon playing some twisted trick. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The drinker of Worlds could n't consecrate voice to a response courtesy to the intoxicant coursing through the highborn 's organisation, so he let Malus know the answer in former ways.

The bastard son of Lurhan let out a gasp of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up pressure sensation on his prostrate, tickling the inside working of the Druchii private parts. Malus felt his cock instantly indurate, and then keep on to harden, growing stronger than it ever had before. It was as if the demon was teasing his penis to grow, to elongate, to make full with wickedness seed. Wracked with tardily undulation of heavy pleasure, the highborn forgot all about Hauclir. His expression became red. His timid external respiration gave way to wet heaving. Lust and desire coursed through his sensual consistency. The daemon sparked a sexual appetite that would have put a Slaaneshi priestess to shame. Malus needed an outlet. Something. Anything.

His hands raced down his bare chest, tweaking the teat as they went, rubbing the whiteish cutis, alighting cheek. When they came upon the leather covering his groin and legs, they set to work deftly untying tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't free himself from their tyrannical clench quick enough. He tossed the pants away. There before him, towering up, much like the Idol of Kolkuth funnily enough, was his cock, a splendid spire ready to unleash fists of wild semen. The hide was as pale and luminescent as the residue of his increasingly corrupted mannequin, though here purple veins throbbed just as hard as bleak ace. The pink tip swayed with each ticker of roue. He knew on instinct that his hands would not be plenty tonight.

It was now that he looked up, eyes ablaze, and remembered that he was not alone. Hauclir remained there by the bed, his attention snag between the steaming pants that had landed by his feet and by the antic actions of his Almighty. The servant realized he was being watched, and began to back away slowly, afraid.

You 'll do, Malus thought, chuckling to himself. He rose to his knees, pointing his cock at the hapless Hauclir. `` Close the threshold, '' he commanded.

Hauclir, with trembling hands, did as he was commanded.

'' ejaculate closer, my servant. '' The highborn 's words slipped out, almost unbidden. Malus was n't just chuckling. He was laughing in his psyche. The mirth spilled out and onto his lips. Hauclir eyed the man 's malicious grinning with trepidation.

'' Good. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' Malus'headland was a dramatic art, and the audience was in uproar. His fragile liveliness joined in with the peaked cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, spread that ampule, my sweet Hauclir. '' genus Malus was in pain from the laughing. His ribs had gone tight. The imaginary interview was in outright Chaos, standing, shouting, laughing, rioting with pleasure.

'' My lord ? '' Hauclir did as he was told. His face resembled that of a human slave brought before the sacrificial altar.

'' Lube yourself. '' Malus enjoyed the frenzied revelry raging at the dorsum of his head. Forget the pleasure of the raid. bury the joy of plotting. Forget all the force in the human race. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the daimon for natural endowment with such ... delicious human action before ? He should have got forced himself on Yasmir, given her a cock Bruglir could never desire to harden in his wildest of aspiration. Hell, even Urial. Fucking that spurious cripple would have put him in his blank space. genus Malus'headland swam with sick thought process and untamed sexual conquest.

'' Like this ? '' Hauclir had applied some of the liquid to his finger and daintily begun spreading it about his unwashed slot. The whole thing was surreal, but a part of the retainer wished that he 'd had a bathing tub prior to ... what his Divine was about to do to him. He was no stranger to anal sex ; when he 'd been ordered to ingratiate himself with Bruglir 's work party on their last dangerous undertaking, that had been something his sense of taste had been opened to. But with Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own sarcoid phallus barely erect, cold with dread.

Malus roared like a thirsty wolf. 'Yes ! Now bend, fool !'he wanted to say. The flames of desire showed him the range of a prostate Hauclir, his pink arse puckered and afraid of the mighty pounding it was about to take.

But the highborn 's mouth did n't say 'Yes'. It said, `` No. Not like that. ``

Hauclir froze, trying to imagine what satanic torture awaited if this was n't what his Jehovah wanted.

'' Lubricate your cock, dear, high-priced Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the row springing from his tongue. What was he saying ? Suddenly his heart went taught. T'zarkan 's eel-like tendrils coiled nastily about him. What is this trickery, genus Malus thought, challenging the daemon. T'zarkan, the audience that had been laughing all along, was aching to explain, but first he continued to call Hauclir through Malus'mouth. `` Now, penetrate your lord ! ``

With a dramatic flourish, genus Malus found himself fling his body around, raising his lordly buttocks to Hauclir 's appalled face. `` study me like one of your salty cabin boys ! ``

The consideration crawled onto the bed, his face still a picture of pure fear. He rubbed more of the lubricant about his humanity, then tipped what remained of the ampoule into and around his noble 's anal retentive passage as best he could. With unwilling hands, he clasped Malus'shank, and poked his half flaccid cock into the breach. He let out a slight groan. Malus was tighter than any man he 'd had before, let alone a Druchii.

Locked in his own mind, Malus looked askance at the fiend, his desires having turned to horror. This could n't be rattling. This was high-risk than any nightmare he could possibly have.

Oh, it 's all tangible, said T'zarkan, the watchword coming in slithery wood file through Malus'auricle, over the sound of Hauclir 's noisy ventilation and the sound of his egg slapping about with each poke. You were a muggins, Malus, T'zarkan continued, to think you could drown me out with your inebriant or your Druchii concoction. The demon savoured every indorsement of Malus'physical pain and mental thigh-slapper. I am your master key, the imbiber of human beings intoned, and you will not forget that. You felt the true up power I offered, the devil pulled on the veins that ran through the highborn 's dick to illustrate his gunpoint, the action giving a twinge of discomforting pleasure, but now you will incur an impossibly small taste of the punishment that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the chamber lurked another trope, though this shadow was nothing at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's way. This shadow was disastrous than mordant, practically inconspicuous to any who might fortune upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a bumbling figure, this one was skilled to a deathly level. A true captain of stealth. A true assassinator. The flesh house 's owner prided herself on affording her patron rarely-paralleled discernment and safety, but this intruder had slipped in completely undetected, and would slip out in much the Saame manner. In fact, this individual had travelled all the way from Hag Graef, and such was their ability to remain hidden, that they were still believed to be right there, asleep, at this very second.

Arleth Vann left zip to chance when it came to genus Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the prophesied Scourge. Malus had, as usual, proved troublesome to his programme and decided to outride away from the Hag for now, and so Arleth was practically obliged to cook the length and quietly steal upon his overlord, if only to discipline up on the man and make sure that the futurity Divine of dilapidation had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the highborn safe and sound, asleep on silk tack and enjoying some quietus. He could n't say the same of Hauclir, but he bore the latest addition to the menage 's military group no ill will. He had been about to leave, after making arrangements with some of the local anaesthetic cultists to make his lord 's check in this home just a little more secure, when he 'd see ... well, the night 's frivolities.

The two men in the chamber yonder were still at it ; Arleth could hear it all : their cries, their groan, the creaking of the bed, the smacking phone of pelt on skin, the slippery noise of lubricated penetration. It made him frown as smother touch of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved soundbox. There had been no fourth dimension for loveplay in the Temple, and since he 'd left to join up the true organized religion, only combat and the joy of killing had been on his thinker. But this ... if the Lord of dilapidation could indulge in such acts, with the likes of Hauclir no less, than perhaps his own pleasure was not something preclude ...

As Malus was ridden hard by Hauclir inside, outside the room Arleth began to play with himself for the first time. He reached down into his flowing gown and tugged at his waking prick. The minuscule fleshy pulpit began to grow hard at his touch. He tried to think back how he 'd seen the whores and slaves pleasure each other. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out little groan of his own to come with those of his beloved eminent handmaiden of Khaine.

***

genus Malus lay broken on the bed, the stench of sex heavy about his lithe torso, and the bodily fluids of Hauclir splashed all about the sheet of paper. His own prick had gone off multiple prison term, adding to the damage. The build mansion proprietor would be expecting a generous fee for the cleaning that her slaves would be required to perform the following sunup. He was still lying there, lost in brackish thoughts and the melancholy of one who 's been fucked against their will, as Hauclir hastily cast his robes about himself and began making for the door. Despite the Nox 's tomboy being entirely at his master 's invitation, Hauclir felt dirty at what he 'd been company to, and had decided that the next course of action was to come up a potable, a bath, and then a female person slave to put forward his sexuality upon.

As the servant made it to the door, praying all the while to the nighttime mother that he 'd be allowed to go away with his head, Malus stopped him with five myopic words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my lord. '' He could n't look Malus. Instead, he left in disgrace, slipping out of the room access. He remembered to close down it this time. As he left, he stood in a pool of something vile on the soil. He looked down, cursing his luck. He stepped away from the alcove and over to a nearby rug, a richly meander thing. He wiped his bare foundation on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that drinking badly.

genus Malus lay there, looking up at the flesh hooks, lash and range dangling from the dark roof, refusing to let his heart body of water from the painful sensation still throbbing about his rear. He 'd hold up the cruel distortion of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own sweet siblings ; he was n't about to dishonour himself with an aspect of weakness before T'zarkan. He closed his eyes. He would get revenge. He had his hatred. The daemon could n't hold that away from him. The daemon could only inspire more of it. And with hate, all affair were possible .