The Darkblade mortification

genus Malus mumbled in his sleep, lost to the logy dreams that only a hard night of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk sheets, an strange luxuriousness but one necessary for the conservation of what little sanity he retained ; after the chaos, and the battles against said chaos, of the sea-borne expedition against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled venture which had successfully claimed the life-time of his dearest brother Bruglir but failed to hand over the headland of either Ovis vignei or Yasmir, after all that meter on the doomed water, Malus needed a day or two of lawful, pure rest. He dozed on in this questionable physique house, still stuporous but, after a steaming bath, at least no longer grimy.

He did n't stir at all when the door to his buck private bedchamber opened and a hooded figure slipped inside. The shadow who 'd entered the room seemed to pause at the peck of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its brain. Malus let out a cranky snoring and muttered some antediluvian swearing, giving the figure a start. The could-be assassin strode over to the silken bed and loomed over the man known as Darkblade. The hooded person began to fumble in the faithful of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some poisoned sticker or some early weapon of murder.

Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some invisible enemy, then bolted upright, sweating. The vestige was taken by surprise and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepyheaded eyes widened in alarm clock at the wad of this intruder. He instinctively reached for his sword, but it was n't where he 'd left it. His legs were already swinging out to reach contact with the primer as he prepared to cry out for his retainers.

The bod threw back their hood. `` My Jehovah, it 's me ! ``

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

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

The highborn eased himself back onto his bed. It must have been the 60 minutes of the wolf or there abouts ; this was no time to wake a resting baronial. Facing the ceiling, where, to the soma house 's credit, OK human cutis had been hung from myopic hooks to enshroud the brickwork, Malus addressed his servant. `` What in the dark mother 's name are you doing in my chamber ? I expressly odered you to defend my door and leave me in peace treaty until daybreak. ``

Hauclir grimaced, as if unsure what to say. After a mo he cleared his throat. `` I brought the ... goodness you asked of me, my Jehovah. ``

'' What commodity ? '' Malus barked.

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

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

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

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

'' The lube, my lord. '' The former captain produced the vial from his robe. A cleared liquidity glistened in a little glass bottle, lit by the crackling brightness level of two low-burning braziers in the expensive chamber.

'' I did n't ask for any ... such things. '' Malus swallowed hard. He had no computer storage of asking for such an uncomely affair. Even with his brain still buzzing with drunkenness, he felt something stir deep inside his body.

'' Perhaps my lord has drunk too much of the house wine. You asked me not four hours ago. narrate me you wanted the all right human being spit. ``

Malus could hold sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his ribs, slithering about his critical variety meat. His heatbeat quickened. Was the daemon playing some bend antic. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The Drinker of human race could n't have voice to a response good manners to the alcohol coursing through the highborn 's arrangement, so he let Malus have sex the answer in other ways.

The mother fucker son of Lurhan let out a pant of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up pressure on his prostrate, tickling the inner workings of the Druchii genitalia. Malus felt his cock instantly harden, and then go along to harden, growing solid than it ever had before. It was as if the demon was teasing his penis to get, to load, to fill with vicious seed. Wracked with slow waves of fleshy pleasure, the highborn forgot all about Hauclir. His face became flushed. His timid breathing gave way to wet trousering. Lust and desire coursed through his sensual consistency. The daemon sparked a sexual appetite that would stimulate put a Slaaneshi priestess to dishonour. Malus needed an outlet. Something. Anything.

His bridge player raced down his bare bureau, tweaking the nipples as they went, rubbing the whiteish skin, alighting nerves. When they came upon the leather covering his groin and branch, they set to mold deftly unbrace tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't free himself from their oppressive grasp quick enough. He tossed the pants away. There before him, towering up, much like the Idol of Kolkuth funnily enough, was his rooster, a magnificent steeple ready to loose clenched fist of furious semen. The tegument was as pale and luminescent as the rest of his increasingly corrupted cast, though here purple mineral vein throbbed just as hard as black ones. The pinkish tip swayed with each pump of stock. He knew on instinct that his custody 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 split between the steaming pants that had landed by his feet and by the grotesque actions of his lord. 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 articulatio genus, pointing his shaft at the hapless Hauclir. `` Close the door, '' he commanded.

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

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

'' trade good. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' Malus'head teacher was a theatre, and the audience was in uproar. His fragile spirit joined in with the sickly cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, open that ampoule, my odorous Hauclir. '' Malus was in painful sensation from the laughing. His rib had gone tight. The imaginary 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.

'' lubricating substance yourself. '' Malus enjoyed the manic revelry raging at the vertebral column of his head. bury the pleasure of the raid. Forget the joy of plotting. forget all the power in the macrocosm. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the daemon for endowment with such ... yummy act before ? He should feature forced himself on Yasmir, given her a peter Bruglir could never trust to harden in his wildest of aspiration. inferno, even Urial. Fucking that misbegotten cripple would have put him in his place. genus Malus'head swam with gruesome thoughts and untamed sexual conquest.

'' Like this ? '' Hauclir had applied some of the liquidness to his finger and daintily begun spreading it about his plebeian slot. The whole affair was surrealistic, but a role of the retainer wished that he 'd had a bath prior to ... what his Lord 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 discernment had been opened to. But with Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own sarcoid penis barely erect, frigid with dread.

Malus roared like a hungry wolf. 'Yes ! Now bend, mug !'he wanted to say. The flames of desire showed him the image of a prostate Hauclir, his garden pink arsehole 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 ideate what hellish torture awaited if this was n't what his Divine wanted.

'' Lubricate your cock, dear, love Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the Book 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 demigod. T'zarkan, the audience that had been laughing all along, was aching to explain, but first he continued to turn to Hauclir through Malus'backtalk. `` Now, penetrate your lord ! ``

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

The retainer crawled onto the bed, his face still a picture of pure veneration. He rubbed Sir Thomas More of the lubricant about his manhood, then tipped what remained of the vial into and around his lord 's anal passage as Charles Herbert Best he could. With unwilling hands, he clasped genus Malus'waist, and poked his half flaccid cock into the breach. He let out a slight moan. Malus was nasty than any human being he 'd had before, let alone a Druchii.

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

Oh, it 's all real, said T'zarkan, the words coming in slithery rasps through genus Malus'ears, over the sound of Hauclir 's noisy ventilation and the auditory sensation of his lump slapping about with each thrust. You were a fool, Malus, T'zarkan continued, to recall you could overwhelm me out with your intoxicant or your Druchii mixture. The daemon savoured every second of Malus'physical pain and mental wow. I am your master, the Drinker of Worlds intoned, and you will not forget that. You felt the reliable might I offered, the demon pulled on the venous blood vessel that ran through the highborn 's cock to illustrate his period, the action mechanism giving a twinge of discomforting pleasure, but now you will invite an impossibly little taste of the punishments that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the chamber lurked another name, though this tincture was cipher at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's room. This shadow was blacker than Shirley Temple Black, practically invisible to any who might hazard upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a bumbling trope, this one was skilled to a deathly story. A true sea captain of stealth. A true up assassin. The shape house 's possessor prided herself on affording her frequenter rarely-paralleled circumspection and safety device, but this intruder had slipped in completely undetected, and would err out in much the Saame manner. In fact, this mortal 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 nothing to luck when it came to Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the vaticinate Scourge. genus Malus had, as usual, proved troublesome to his plan and decided to stay away from the Hag for now, and so Arleth was practically obliged to ca-ca the aloofness and quietly steal upon his lord, if only to check up on the man and take a crap sure enough that the future tense lord of Ruin had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the highborn safe and audio, asleep on silk piece of paper and enjoying some relaxation. He could n't say the same of Hauclir, but he bore the latest plus to the house 's force no ill will. He had been about to leave, after making agreement with some of the local anaesthetic cultists to make his Lord 's arrest in this place just a little more secure, when he 'd heard ... well, the nighttime 's frivolities.

The two men in the chamber yonder were still at it ; Arleth could see it all : their cries, their groan, the creak of the bed, the smacking speech sound of tegument on cutis, the slippery haphazardness of greased penetration. It made him frown as repressed feelings of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved organic structure. There had been no time for loveplay in the Temple, and since he 'd left to link up up the reliable religion, only fight and the joy of killing had been on his creative thinker. But this ... if the Jehovah of downfall 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 play with himself for the world-class time. He reached down into his flowing robes and tugged at his waking hammer. The petty fleshy stump began to grow hard at his touch. He tried to remember how he 'd seen the prostitute and slaves pleasure each other. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out minuscule groan of his own to accompany those of his love senior high school retainer of Khaine.

***

Malus lay broken on the bed, the reek of sex heavy about his lithe body, and the somatic fluids of Hauclir splashed all about the sheets. His own cock had gone off multiple times, adding to the damage. The build sign owner would be expecting a generous fee for the cleansing that her slaves would be required to do the following sunup. He was still lying there, lost in brackish thought and the melancholy of one who 's been fucked against their will, as Hauclir hastily cast his robe about himself and began making for the door. Despite the night 's walkaway being entirely at his lord 's invitation, Hauclir felt dirty at what he 'd been party to, and had decided that the next course of activity was to obtain a drink, a Bath, and then a female person slave to put forward his sexuality upon.

As the consideration made it to the door, praying all the while to the Dark Mother that he 'd be allowed to give with his head, Malus stopped him with five unawares words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my nobleman. '' He could n't face 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 reason. He looked down, cursing his chance. He stepped away from the alcove and over to a nearby rug, a richly weave thing. He wiped his bare groundwork on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that drinkable badly.

genus Malus lay there, looking up at the soma hooks, whips and chain dangling from the nighttime cap, refusing to let his eyes water system from the bother still throbbing about his rear. He 'd withstood the cruel torment of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own angelical sib ; he was n't about to disgrace himself with an facial expression of failing before T'zarkan. He closed his optic. He would get revenge. He had his hatred. The demon could n't take that away from him. The fiend could only invigorate more of it. And with hate, all things were potential .