The Darkblade Humiliation

Malus mumbled in his sleep, lost to the foggy pipe dream that only a backbreaking dark of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk tack, an unusual luxury but one requirement for the saving of what little sanity he retained ; after the topsy-turvydom, and the fight against said chaos, of the sea-borne expedition against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled speculation which had successfully claimed the life of his dearest pal Bruglir but failed to deliver the heads of either Urial or Yasmir, after all that meter on the maledict water, Malus needed a day or two of true, virtuous rest. He dozed on in this questionable flesh home, still groggy but, after a steamy bath, at least no longer grimy.

He did n't stir at all when the door to his private bedchamber opened and a hooded human body slipped inside. The shadow who 'd entered the room seemed to intermit at the good deal of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its head. Malus let out a cranky snore and muttered some ancient curse, giving the form a start. The could-be assassin strode over to the silken bed and loomed over the man known as Darkblade. The hooded soul began to fumble in the congregation of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some poison dagger or some other arm of murder.

Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some invisible enemy, then bolted upright, sweating. The phantasm was taken by surprise and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepy eyes widened in warning device at the sight of this intruder. He instinctively reached for his steel, but it was n't where he 'd left it. His leg were already swinging out to make contact with the ground as he prepared to cry out for his retainers.

The image threw back their hood. `` My noble, it 's me ! ``

Malus narrowed his eyes, the cry for Hauclir dying in his throat. The perfectly word still came out regardless, now edged with anger. `` Hauclir. '' It managed to be as much a question as a threat or a mastery. 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 hold been the hour of the Hugo Wolf or there abouts ; this was no prison term to wake a resting noble. Facing the cap, where, to the flesh house 's credit, alright human skins had been hung from short hook shot to cover the brickwork, Malus addressed his servant. `` What in the Dark mother 's name are you doing in my chamber ? I expressly odered you to hold my door and leave me in peace until cockcrow. ``

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

'' What goodness ? '' Malus barked.

'' You know ... '' Hauclir looked over his shoulder joint at the open door. He had n't thought to close it. `` The private trade good. ``

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

Hauclir took a bass breath. `` The lubricator. ``

Malus paled and craned his neck to await at his consideration. `` What did you say ? ``

'' The lubricating substance, my lord. '' The previous police captain produced the phial from his robe. A clear-cut liquid state glistened in a little glass bottle, lit by the crackling light of two low-burning braziers in the expensive chamber.

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

'' Perhaps my Maker has drunk too very much of the star sign wine. You asked me not four hours ago. Told me you wanted the finest human spit. ``

genus Malus could have sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his rib, slithering about his vital Hammond organ. His heatbeat quickened. Was the devil playing some rick deception. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The Drinker of Earth could n't pay voice to a reply courtesy to the alcohol coursing through the highborn 's arrangement, so he let Malus know the result in early ways.

The bastard son of Lurhan let out a gasp of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up pressure on his prostrate, tickling the inner workings of the Druchii private parts. Malus felt his pecker instantly harden, and then continue to harden, growing stiff than it ever had before. It was as if the daemon was teasing his penis to turn, to stretch, to replete with evil seed. Wracked with ho-hum waves of heavy pleasure, the titled forgot all about Hauclir. His aspect became redden. His cautious breathing gave way to wet panting. Lust and desire coursed through his sultry trunk. The daemon sparked a sexual appetence that would feature put a Slaaneshi priestess to shame. Malus needed an outlet. Something. Anything.

His hands raced down his bare chest, tweaking the nipple as they went, rubbing the whiteish cutis, alighting heart. When they came upon the leather covering his groin and branch, they set to work deftly unfastening tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't free himself from their oppressive grasp quick enough. He tossed the pant away. There before him, towering up, much like the Idol of Kolkuth funnily enough, was his shaft, a magnificent spire ready to unleash fist of angry cum. The peel was as pale and luminescent as the rest of his increasingly corrupted variety, though here purple vein throbbed just as hard as black ones. The pinkish tip swayed with each pump of blood. He knew on inherent aptitude that his hands would not be enough 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 schism between the steaming pants that had landed by his feet and by the grotesque actions of his Divine. The retainer realized he was being watched, and began to back away slowly, afraid.

You 'll do, Malus thought, chuckling to himself. He rose to his knee joint, pointing his hammer at the hapless Hauclir. `` Close the door, '' he commanded.

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

'' Come closer, my servant. '' The highborn 's tidings slipped out, almost unbidden. Malus was n't just chuckling. He was laughing in his nous. The mirth spilled out and onto his brim. Hauclir eyed the man 's malicious smile with trepidation.

'' Good. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' Malus'point was a field of operations, and the audience was in uproar. His fragile life joined in with the sickly cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, open up that ampule, my sweet-scented Hauclir. '' Malus was in pain from the laughing. His costa had gone tight. The imaginary number audience 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 revel raging at the backbone of his head. forget the pleasure of the maraud. block the joy of plotting. Forget all the power in the public. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the daemon for gifts with such ... delicious acts before ? He should have forced himself on Yasmir, given her a cock Bruglir could never hope to harden in his wildest of dreams. sin, even Ovis vignei. Fucking that spurious cripple would cause put him in his place. Malus'head word 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 plebeian time slot. The whole affair was surreal, but a persona of the servant wished that he 'd had a bath prior to ... what his Creator was about to do to him. He was no stranger to buggery ; when he 'd been ordered to ingratiate himself with Bruglir 's bunch on their last escapade, that had been something his tastes had been opened to. But with genus Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own fleshy penis barely vertical, cold with dread.

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

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

Hauclir froze, trying to conceive of what hellish agony awaited if this was n't what his lord wanted.

'' Lubricate your cock, dear, dear Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the Holy Scripture springing from his tongue. What was he saying ? Suddenly his essence went taught. T'zarkan 's eel-like tendrils coiled nastily about him. What is this wile, Malus thought, challenging the daimon. T'zarkan, the hearing that had been laughing all along, was aching to explicate, but first he continued to direct Hauclir through Malus'mouth. `` Now, penetrate your Lord ! ``

With a spectacular flourish, genus Malus found himself fling his eubstance around, raising his lordly buttocks to Hauclir 's shocked boldness. `` take aim me like one of your salty cabin boys ! ``

The retainer crawled onto the bed, his human face still a icon of stark fear. He rubbed more of the lubricant about his humanness, then tipped what remained of the vial into and around his Jehovah 's anal retentive passage as best he could. With unwilling custody, he clasped Malus'waistline, and poked his half flaccid tool into the rupture. He let out a little moan. Malus was tighter than any human he 'd had before, let alone a Druchii.

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

Oh, it 's all real, said T'zarkan, the Book coming in slithery rasps through Malus'capitulum, over the sound of Hauclir 's noisy respiration and the sound of his balls slapping about with each thrust. You were a fool, Malus, T'zarkan continued, to conceive you could overwhelm me out with your alcohol or your Druchii concoctions. The daemon savoured every arcsecond of Malus'physical pain and mental howler. I am your captain, the Drinker of earthly concern intoned, and you will not blank out that. You felt the avowedly might I offered, the demon pulled on the mineral vein that ran through the highborn 's stopcock to illustrate his point, the military action giving a twinge of discomforting pleasure, but now you will experience an impossibly diminished taste of the punishment that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the sleeping room lurked another bod, though this trace was naught at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's way. This shadow was blacker than black, practically unseeable to any who might prospect upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a botch up figure, this one was skilled to a deathly level. A unfeigned master of stealing. A true bravo. The form mansion 's owner prided herself on affording her patron rarely-paralleled discreetness and safety, but this intruder had slipped in completely undetected, and would slip out in much the Lapplander manner. In fact, this person had travelled all the way from Hag Graef, and such was their ability to remain hide, that they were still believed to be right there, asleep, at this very second.

Arleth Vann left nothing to probability when it came to Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the vaticinate Scourge. Malus had, as usual, proved troublesome to his plans and decided to quell away from the Hag for now, and so Arleth was practically obliged to make believe the aloofness and quietly slip upon his lord, if only to check up on the man and make for sure that the futurity Jehovah of Ruin had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the highborn prophylactic and sound, asleep on silk piece of paper and enjoying some rest. He could n't say the same of Hauclir, but he bore the latest plus to the household 's forcefulness no ill will. He had been about to leave, after making musical arrangement with some of the topical anaesthetic cultists to make his lord 's stay in this blank space just a little more secure, when he 'd heard ... 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 sound of tegument on peel, the slippery noise of lubricated penetration. It made him frown as repressed feelings of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved body. There had been no fourth dimension for loveplay in the tabernacle, and since he 'd left to connect up the true faith, only armed combat and the joy of killing had been on his mind. But this ... if the Lord of Ruin could indulge in such acts, with the likes of Hauclir no less, than perhaps his own pleasure was not something forbidden ...

As Malus was ridden hard by Hauclir inside, outside the room Arleth began to act with himself for the first time. He reached down into his flowing gown and tugged at his waking cock. The little fleshy soapbox began to turn hard at his spot. He tried to remember how he 'd seen the whores and slaves pleasure each other. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out little moans of his own to accompany those of his beloved gamy servant of Khaine.

***

Malus lay broken on the bed, the stench of sex heavy about his lithe body, and the bodily fluids of Hauclir splashed all about the mainsheet. His own peter had gone off multiple times, adding to the damage. The flesh sign of the zodiac owner would be expecting a generous fee for the cleaning that her slave would be required to perform the following break of the day. 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 doorway. Despite the night 's laugher being entirely at his noble 's invitation, Hauclir felt dirty at what he 'd been party to, and had decided that the next grade of natural process was to line up a beverage, a Bath, and then a female person slave to swan his sexuality upon.

As the retainer made it to the door, praying all the patch to the darkness Mother that he 'd be allowed to leave with his top dog, Malus stopped him with five myopic words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my Jehovah. '' He could n't face genus Malus. Instead, he left in shame, slipping out of the door. He remembered to close it this time. As he left, he stood in a puddle of something vile on the flat coat. He looked down, cursing his fate. He stepped away from the alcove and over to a nearby rug, a richly weave thing. He wiped his air substructure on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that drink badly.

Malus lay there, looking up at the flesh lure, whips and chains dangling from the dark ceiling, refusing to let his center water system from the pain still throbbing about his rear end. He 'd withstood the cruel torture of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own sweet siblings ; he was n't about to shame himself with an expression of weakness before T'zarkan. He closed his eye. He would get revenge. He had his hate. The devil could n't take that away from him. The daemon could only inspire more of it. And with hatred, all thing were possible .