The Darkblade chagrin

Malus mumbled in his sleep, lost to the foggy dreams that only a hard night of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk sheets, an unusual lavishness but one necessary for the preservation of what slight saneness he retained ; after the chaos, and the battle against said Chaos, of the sea-borne junket against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled venture which had successfully claimed the life of his beloved brother Bruglir but failed to deliver the headway of either Urial or Yasmir, after all that time on the cursed water, genus Malus needed a day or two of true, staring rest. He dozed on in this questionable flesh house, still groggy but, after a steam clean Bath, at to the lowest degree no farseeing grimy.

He did n't stir at all when the door to his individual bedchamber opened and a hooded image slipped inside. The shadow who 'd entered the room seemed to pause at the sight of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its head. Malus let out a cranky stertor and muttered some ancient curse, 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 botch up in the plication of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some envenom dagger or some other weapon of murder.

Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some inconspicuous enemy, then bolted upright, sweating. The shadow was taken by surprisal and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepy eyes widened in alert at the sight of this intruder. He instinctively reached for his sword, but it was n't where he 'd allow it. His legs were already swinging out to make contact with the solid ground as he prepared to blackguard for his retainers.

The frame threw back their hood. `` My Lord, 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 very much a query as a threat or a command. The highborn had become accustomed to employing all three step at once with this damnable mercenary.

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

The highborn eased himself back onto his bed. It must give been the hr of the wolf or there abouts ; this was no time to wake a resting imposing. Facing the ceiling, where, to the physical body house 's credit, mulct homo tegument had been hung from suddenly draw to cover the brickwork, Malus addressed his retainer. `` What in the iniquity Mother 's public figure are you doing in my chamber ? I expressly odered you to guard my door and leave me in peace of mind until dawn. ``

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

'' What goods ? '' Malus barked.

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

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

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

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

'' The lubricator, my God Almighty. '' The late captain produced the vial from his robes. A exculpated liquidness 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 affair. '' Malus swallowed hard. He had no memory of asking for such an indecent thing. Even with his pass still buzzing with drink, he felt something stir deep inside his body.

'' Perhaps my noble has drunk too a great deal of the house vino. You asked me not four hours ago. Told me you wanted the o.k. human being spitting. ``

Malus could have sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his ribs, slithering about his vital organs. His heatbeat quickened. Was the demon playing some twisted trick. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The Drinker of man could n't give voice to a reply courtesy to the alcohol coursing through the highborn 's arrangement, so he let Malus sleep together the answer in former ways.

The by-blow son of Lurhan let out a pant of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up press on his prostrate, tickling the inner works of the Druchii privates. Malus felt his cock instantly inure, and then bear on to harden, growing warm than it ever had before. It was as if the daemon was teasing his penis to arise, to stretch, to fill with iniquity ejaculate. Wracked with deadening waves of weighed down joy, the highborn forgot all about Hauclir. His expression became flushed. His conservative breathing gave way to wet heaving. lust and desire coursed through his sensual trunk. The daemon sparked a sexual appetency that would have put a Slaaneshi priestess to shame. Malus needed an outlet. Something. Anything.

His hands raced down his bare breast, tweaking the mammilla as they went, rubbing the whiteish skin, alighting nerves. When they came upon the leather covering his jetty and legs, they set to bring deftly undo tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't free himself from their oppressive clasp 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 steeple gear up to unleash clenched fist of angry semen. The skin was as pale and luminescent as the quietus of his increasingly corrupted physical body, though here violet nervure throbbed just as tough as black ones. The pinkish tip swayed with each heart 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 split between the steaming pants that had landed by his feet and by the fantastic military action of his overlord. The consideration realized he was being watched, and began to bet on away slowly, afraid.

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

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

'' Come closer, my retainer. '' The highborn 's dustup slipped out, almost unbidden. Malus was n't just chuckling. He was laughing in his idea. The mirth spilled out and onto his lip. Hauclir eyed the man 's malicious smiling with trepidation.

'' Good. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' Malus'head was a theatre, and the audience was in uproar. His delicate spirit joined in with the sallow cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, give that ampul, my confection Hauclir. '' genus Malus was in pain from the laughing. His rib had gone tight. The notional audience was in outright chaos, standing, shouting, laughing, rioting with pleasure.

'' My Almighty ? '' Hauclir did as he was told. His grimace resembled that of a human being hard worker brought before the sacrificial altar.

'' Lube yourself. '' Malus enjoyed the frenetic revel raging at the binding of his chief. Forget the pleasure of the raid. Forget the joy of plotting. Forget all the power in the earth. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the daemon for gifts with such ... delectable acts before ? He should have forced himself on Yasmir, given her a cock Bruglir could never hope to harden in his wildest of dreams. infernal region, even Urial. Fucking that misbegotten cripple would have put him in his place. Malus'head swam with cast thinking and untamed intimate conquest.

'' Like this ? '' Hauclir had applied some of the liquid to his finger's breadth and daintily begun spreading it about his unwashed slot. The whole thing was surreal, but a component of the retainer wished that he 'd had a bath prior to ... what his Almighty was about to do to him. He was no alien to buggery ; when he 'd been ordered to ingratiate himself with Bruglir 's crew on their last dangerous undertaking, that had been something his gustatory sensation had been opened to. But with genus Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own fleshy 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 image of a prostate Hauclir, his 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 think what hellish torment awaited if this was n't what his Divine wanted.

'' Lubricate your hammer, honey, good Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the word springing from his natural language. What was he saying ? Suddenly his warmheartedness went taught. T'zarkan 's eel-like tendrils coiled nastily about him. What is this trickery, Malus thought, challenging the daemon. T'zarkan, the audience that had been laughing all along, was aching to explain, but first he continued to address Hauclir through Malus'mouth. `` Now, bottom your master ! ``

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

The retainer crawled onto the bed, his font still a word-painting of arrant fear. He rubbed more of the lubricator about his manhood, then tipped what remained of the ampoule into and around his nobleman 's anal musical passage as best he could. With unwilling hands, he clasped genus Malus'shank, and poked his half flaccid stopcock into the breach. He let out a slight groan. Malus was blind drunk than any man he 'd had before, let alone a Druchii.

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

Oh, it 's all real, said T'zarkan, the words coming in slithery rasp through genus Malus'pinna, over the sound of Hauclir 's noisy ventilation and the sound of his balls slapping about with each thrust. You were a fool, Malus, T'zarkan continued, to cerebrate you could submerge me out with your alcoholic beverage or your Druchii concoctions. The demigod savoured every second of genus Malus'physical bother and mental screams. I am your master, the drinker of Worlds intoned, and you will not forget that. You felt the avowedly power I offered, the daemon pulled on the veins that ran through the highborn 's cock to illustrate his full stop, the action mechanism giving a twinge of discomforting pleasure, but now you will meet an impossibly small penchant of the punishments that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the chamber lurked another figure, though this shadow was nothing at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's room. This phantom was blacker than disgraceful, practically invisible to any who might opportunity upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a bumbling figure, this one was skilled to a deathly story. A true up skipper of stealth. A unfeigned assassin. The frame house 's owner prided herself on affording her patrons rarely-paralleled prudence and safety, but this trespasser had slipped in completely undetected, and would luxate out in much the Saame manner. 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 naught to probability when it came to Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the prophesied Scourge. Malus had, as common, proved troublesome to his program and decided to continue away from the Hag for now, and so Arleth was practically obliged to give the distance and quietly steal upon his Maker, if only to agree up on the man and wee certain that the futurity master of Ruin had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the titled safe and sound, asleep on silk sheets and enjoying some rest. He could n't say the like of Hauclir, but he bore the recent improver to the household 's force no ill will. He had been about to leave, after making arrangements with some of the local cultists to take a leak his lord 's stay in this office just a little more secure, when he 'd find out ... well, the night 's frivolities.

The two men in the sleeping accommodation yonder were still at it ; Arleth could hear it all : their war cry, their moans, the creaking of the bed, the smacking sound of skin on hide, the slippery noise of greased incursion. It made him frown as repressed feelings of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved torso. There had been no time for loveplay in the synagogue, and since he 'd left to join up the confessedly faith, only scrap and the joy of killing had been on his mind. But this ... if the Godhead of wrecking could indulge in such acts, with the ilk 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 first-class honours degree time. He reached down into his flowing robe and tugged at his waking cock. The little fleshy stump began to grow hard at his touch. He tried to commemorate how he 'd seen the lady of pleasure and striver pleasure each other. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out trivial moans of his own to accompany those of his dearest high handmaid of Khaine.

***

genus Malus lay broken on the bed, the malodor of sex heavy about his lithe body, and the bodily fluids of Hauclir splashed all about the shroud. His own cock had gone off multiple metre, adding to the wrong. The flesh business firm owner would be expecting a generous fee for the cleaning that her slaves would be required to perform the chase first light. 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 dark 's romp being entirely at his lord 's invitation, Hauclir felt dirty at what he 'd been company to, and had decided that the next row of action was to find oneself a potable, a Bath, and then a female slave to put forward his sexuality upon.

As the consideration made it to the door, praying all the while to the iniquity female parent that he 'd be allowed to go out with his head, Malus stopped him with five short words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my overlord. '' He could n't confront Malus. Instead, he left in ignominy, slipping out of the threshold. He remembered to close it this time. As he left, he stood in a puddle of something vile on the ground. He looked down, cursing his fate. He stepped away from the alcove and over to a nearby rug, a richly woven thing. He wiped his plain foot on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that boozing badly.

genus Malus lay there, looking up at the form hooks, whips and chains dangling from the dark ceiling, refusing to let his heart piss from the painful sensation still throbbing about his rear. He 'd resist the cruel torture of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own sweet-flavored siblings ; he was n't about to shame himself with an manifestation of weakness before T'zarkan. He closed his middle. He would get revenge. He had his hate. The demigod could n't take that away from him. The daemon could only root on to a greater extent of it. And with hate, all things were possible .