The Darkblade Humiliation

Malus mumbled in his sleep, lost to the foggy dreams that only a operose night of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk sheets, an strange lavishness but one necessary for the preservation of what footling sanity he retained ; after the pandemonium, and the conflict against said topsy-turvydom, of the sea-borne junket against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled venture which had successfully claimed the life of his dear brother Bruglir but failed to deliver the read/write head of either urial or Yasmir, after all that sentence on the anathemise water, Malus needed a day or two of true up, pure rest. He dozed on in this questionable flesh house, still foggy but, after a steaming Bath, at to the lowest degree no longsighted grimy.

He did n't shift at all when the doorway to his private bedroom opened and a hooded figure slipped inside. The phantom who 'd entered the room seemed to pause at the deal of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its head. Malus let out a cranky snore and muttered some ancient expletive, giving the figure a start. The could-be assassinator strode over to the silken bed and loomed over the man known as Darkblade. The hooded somebody began to screw up in the congregation of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some poison dagger or some other artillery of murder.

genus Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some invisible enemy, then bolted upright, sweating. The shadow was taken by surprisal and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepyheaded eyes widened in alarm at the flock of this intruder. He instinctively reached for his brand, but it was n't where he 'd will it. His stage were already swinging out to make liaison with the land as he prepared to shout for his retainers.

The figure threw back their cap. `` My lord, it 's me ! ``

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

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

The highborn eased himself back onto his bed. It must have been the hour of the wolf or there abouts ; this was no time to fire up a resting imposing. Facing the ceiling, where, to the flesh house 's quotation, fine man skins had been hung from short hook to cover the brickwork, Malus addressed his retainer. `` What in the Dark Mother 's gens are you doing in my bedroom ? I expressly odered you to guard my threshold and impart me in peace until daybreak. ``

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

'' What goods ? '' Malus barked.

'' You know ... '' Hauclir looked over his berm at the open air room access. He had n't thought to shut down it. `` The secret goods. ``

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

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

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

'' The lubricant, my lord. '' The former captain produced the ampul from his robes. A crystallize liquidness glistened in a little glass bottle, lit by the crackling light of two low-burning brazier in the expensive chamber.

'' I did n't ask for any ... such matter. '' Malus swallowed hard. He had no computer memory of asking for such an indecent thing. Even with his head still buzzing with beverage, he felt something stir cryptic inside his body.

'' Perhaps my Godhead has drunk too much of the house wine. You asked me not four hours ago. distinguish me you wanted the okay human spit. ``

Malus could have sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his ribs, slithering about his critical organs. His heatbeat quickened. Was the daimon playing some twisted trick. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The toper of human race could n't give vocalization to a reply courtesy to the alcoholic beverage coursing through the highborn 's system, so he let Malus know the resolution in other ways.

The bastard son of Lurhan let out a pant of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up force per unit area on his prostrate, tickling the inner working of the Druchii genitalia. Malus felt his stopcock instantly harden, and then continue to inure, growing hard than it ever had before. It was as if the daemon was teasing his penis to grow, to debase, to fill with wickedness cum. Wracked with tedious waves of backbreaking pleasure, the highborn forgot all about Hauclir. His face became flushed. His cautious breathing gave way to wet panting. Lust and desire coursed through his sultry body. The demigod sparked a sexual appetite that would have put a Slaaneshi priestess to shame. Malus needed an outlet. Something. Anything.

His workforce raced down his bare chest, tweaking the nipples as they went, rubbing the whiteish skin, alighting face. When they came upon the leather covering his breakwater and legs, they set to work deftly untying tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't free himself from their oppressive clutches quick enough. He tossed the pants away. There before him, towering up, much like the Idol of Kolkuth funnily enough, was his dick, a splendid spire quick to unleash fists of furious seed. The skin was as pale and luminescent as the rest of his increasingly corrupted pattern, though here empurpled mineral vein throbbed just as hard as black ones. The pink tip swayed with each ticker of blood. He knew on instinct 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 knickers that had landed by his feet and by the fantastic action 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 knees, pointing his cock at the hapless Hauclir. `` Close the door, '' he commanded.

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

'' ejaculate closer, my handmaiden. '' The highborn 's word of honor slipped out, almost unbidden. Malus was n't just chuckling. He was laughing in his mind. The glee spilled out and onto his lips. Hauclir eyed the man 's malicious smile with trepidation.

'' good. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' genus Malus'head was a field, and the interview was in uproar. His fragile spirit joined in with the sickly cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, open that ampul, my odorous Hauclir. '' Malus was in pain from the laughing. His ribs had gone tight. The complex 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 frenetic revel raging at the book binding of his question. Forget the delight of the raid. Forget the joy of plotting. Forget all the power in the world. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the demon for gifts with such ... yummy act before ? He should have forced himself on Yasmir, given her a putz Bruglir could never desire to harden in his wildest of dreams. Hades, even Urial. Fucking that misbegotten cripple would have put him in his place. genus Malus'head swam with sick intellection and untamed intimate conquest.

'' Like this ? '' Hauclir had applied some of the liquid to his finger and daintily begun spreading it about his unwashed one-armed bandit. The whole thing was surreal, but a region of the servant wished that he 'd had a bathing tub prior to ... what his lord was about to do to him. He was no stranger to buggery ; when he 'd been ordered to ingratiate himself with Bruglir 's crew on their finally adventure, that had been something his tastes had been opened to. But with Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own fleshy penis barely erect, cold with dread.

genus Malus roared like a hungry wolf. 'Yes ! Now bend, tomfool !'he wanted to say. The flaming of desire showed him the paradigm of a prostate Hauclir, his pink arsehole puckered and afraid of the mighty pounding it was about to take.

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

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

'' Lubricate your tool, dear, devout Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the give-and-take springing from his clapper. What was he saying ? Suddenly his heart went taught. T'zarkan 's eel-like tendrils coiled nastily about him. What is this trickery, Malus thought, challenging the demigod. T'zarkan, the consultation that had been laughing all along, was aching to explain, but first he continued to call Hauclir through Malus'oral cavity. `` Now, penetrate your lord ! ``

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

The retainer crawled onto the bed, his look still a picture of pure fearfulness. 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 passageway as C. H. Best he could. With unwilling hands, he clasped Malus'waist, and poked his one-half flaccid cock into the breach. He let out a slight groan. Malus was tighter than any human 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 material. 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 breathing and the speech sound of his balls slapping about with each thrusting. You were a fool, Malus, T'zarkan continued, to think you could drown me out with your alcohol or your Druchii concoctions. The daemon savoured every second base of Malus'strong-arm botheration and mental howler. I am your sea captain, the drinker of Worlds intoned, and you will not forget that. You felt the true power I offered, the demon pulled on the venous blood vessel that ran through the highborn 's hammer to illustrate his point, the natural process giving a twinge of discomforting pleasure, but now you will receive an impossibly belittled taste of the punishments that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the sleeping room lurked another figure, though this tincture was goose egg at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's room. This shadow was blacker than dim, practically inconspicuous to any who might prospect upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a bumbling design, this one was skilled to a deathlike level. A true master of stealth. A genuine assassin. The flesh house 's owner prided herself on affording her patrons rarely-paralleled delicacy and guard, but this intruder had slipped in completely undetected, and would mistake out in much the same way. In fact, this person 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 zilch to chance when it came to Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the vaticinate Scourge. 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 lay down the distance and quietly steal upon his lord, if only to check up on the man and make sure enough that the time to come Lord of laying waste had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the highborn safe and sound, asleep on silk sheets and enjoying some rest. He could n't say the same of Hauclir, but he bore the latest addition to the household 's force no ill will. He had been about to leave alone, after making arrangements with some of the local cultists to produce his lord 's stay in this stead just a little more secure, when he 'd get a line ... well, the nighttime 's frivolities.

The two men in the chamber yonder were still at it ; Arleth could try it all : their cries, their moan, the creaking of the bed, the smacking sound of skin on skin, the slippery disturbance of lubricated penetration. It made him frown as pent-up feelings of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved torso. There had been no clip for loveplay in the tabernacle, and since he 'd left to link up the reliable religion, only armed combat and the joy of killing had been on his mind. But this ... if the Maker of Ruin could indulge in such acts, with the the likes of of Hauclir no less, than perhaps his own pleasure was not something forestall ...

As Malus was ridden hard by Hauclir inside, outside the room Arleth began to fiddle with himself for the first of all time. He reached down into his flowing robes and tugged at his waking cock. The minuscule fleshy podium began to grow hard at his touch. He tried to remember how he 'd seen the fancy woman and slaves pleasure each early. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out little groan of his own to accompany those of his beloved high school retainer of Khaine.

***

genus 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 canvass. His own cock had gone off multiple prison term, adding to the hurt. The flesh house owner would be expecting a generous fee for the cleansing that her hard worker would be required to perform the following sunrise. 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 room access. Despite the night 's romp 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 observe a drinkable, a bath, and then a female slave to verify his sexuality upon.

As the retainer made it to the door, praying all the piece to the Dark mother that he 'd be allowed to go forth with his head, Malus stopped him with five short words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my lord. '' He could n't face Malus. Instead, he left in shame, slipping out of the doorway. He remembered to close it this time. As he left, he stood in a pool of something vile on the solid ground. He looked down, cursing his luck. He stepped away from the alcove and over to a nearby rug, a richly waver affair. He wiped his bare foot on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that drink badly.

Malus lay there, looking up at the flesh hooks, whips and chains dangling from the dark ceiling, refusing to let his eyes water from the pain still throbbing about his butt. He 'd defy the barbarous straining of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own confection siblings ; he was n't about to shame himself with an expression of weakness before T'zarkan. He closed his eyes. He would get revenge. He had his hatred. The daemon could n't deal that away from him. The daemon could only animate more of it. And with hatred, all things were potential .