The Darkblade Humiliation

genus Malus mumbled in his eternal rest, lost to the stuporous aspiration that only a hard Night of Clar Karond 's cheapest could produce. He was sprawled on silk sheets, an unusual luxury but one essential for the preservation of what minuscule sanity he retained ; after the bedlam, and the battles against said topsy-turvydom, of the sea-borne expedition against the Skinriders, a scheme-riddled venture which had successfully claimed the spirit of his beloved buddy Bruglir but failed to deliver the heads of either urial or Yasmir, after all that time on the curst water, Malus needed a day or two of true, pure remainder. He dozed on in this questionable flesh firm, still dazed but, after a steaming bathroom, at least no thirster grimy.

He did n't arouse at all when the door to his private chamber opened and a hooded figure slipped inside. The shadow who 'd entered the room seemed to pause at the slew of the splayed-out highborn and cocked its brain. Malus let out a cranky stertor and muttered some ancient curse, giving the anatomy a start. The could-be assassinator strode over to the silken bed and loomed over the man known as Darkblade. The hooded mortal began to fumble in the crease of their cloak, perhaps rooting out some poisoned sticker or some other weapon of murder.

genus Malus groaned and suddenly thrashed out at some invisible opposition, then bolted upright, sweating. The phantasm was taken by surprise and stumbled back, cursing in unison with the highborn. Malus'sleepy eyes widened in alarm at the muckle 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 crap liaison with the ground as he prepared to scream for his retainers.

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

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

'' Aye, my Godhead. '' 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 metre to wake a resting noble. Facing the ceiling, where, to the flesh house 's credit, fine human tegument had been hung from unforesightful maulers to cover the brickwork, Malus addressed his retainer. `` What in the Dark Mother 's epithet are you doing in my sleeping room ? I expressly odered you to hold my door and leave me in repose until aurora. ``

Hauclir grimaced, as if unsure what to say. After a moment 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 open up door. He had n't thought to close it. `` The individual goods. ``

'' Speak clearly man ! ``

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

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

'' The lube, my Almighty. '' The quondam captain produced the vial from his robe. A clear liquid state glistened in a little meth feeding bottle, lit by the crackling light of two low-burning brazier 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 thing. Even with his heading still buzzing with crapulence, he felt something stir deep inside his body.

'' Perhaps my Godhead has drunk too much of the house wine-colored. You asked me not four minute ago. Told me you wanted the finest human tongue. ``

Malus could have sworn something was tickling him playfully beneath his ribs, slithering about his vital organs. His heatbeat quickened. Was the daemon playing some wind trick. T'zarkan, he thought, what have you done ? The Drinker of humans could n't give vocalism to a reply courtesy to the alcoholic drink coursing through the highborn 's system, so he let Malus bang the answer in other ways.

The SOB son of Lurhan let out a gasp of pleasure as T'zarkan slowly built up pressure sensation on his prostrate, tickling the inner workings of the Druchii genitalia. Malus felt his stopcock instantly harden, and then go forward to harden, growing stronger than it ever had before. It was as if the daemon was teasing his penis to grow, to stretch, to satisfy with evil seminal fluid. Wracked with slow waves of large joy, the titled forgot all about Hauclir. His brass became flushed. His cautious ventilation gave way to wet trousering. Lust and desire coursed through his fleshly consistence. The daimon 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 nipple as they went, rubbing the whiteish cutis, alighting nerves. When they came upon the leather covering his groin and peg, they set to operate deftly undoing tassels and loosening the garments. He could n't dislodge himself from their tyrannous clutch quick enough. He tossed the drawers away. There before him, towering up, much like the Idol of Kolkuth funnily enough, was his cock, a magnificent spire ready to unleash fist of raging semen. The pelt was as pale and luminescent as the rest of his increasingly corrupted form, though here purpleness veins throbbed just as hard as opprobrious ones. The pinkish tip swayed with each pump of blood. He knew on instinct that his handwriting 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 tending split between the steaming pants that had landed by his feet and by the grotesque actions of his noble. The servant realized he was being watched, and began to support away slowly, afraid.

You 'll do, Malus thought, chuckling to himself. He rose to his genu, pointing his dick 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 words slipped out, almost unbidden. genus Malus was n't just chuckling. He was laughing in his mind. The mirth spilled out and onto his lips. Hauclir eyed the man 's malicious smile with trepidation.

'' commodity. Now, disrobe yourself for me. '' Malus'capitulum was a theater of operations, and the audience was in uproar. His frail feel joined in with the poorly cheering.

'' That 's it. Now, open that phial, my sweet Hauclir. '' genus Malus was in pain from the laughing. His ribs had gone tight. The imaginary consultation 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.

'' lubricant yourself. '' Malus enjoyed the frenzied revel raging at the spine of his head. leave the pleasure of the raid. Forget the joy of plotting. draw a blank all the big businessman in the universe. This was everything that mattered. How had he never thought to ask the demigod for gifts with such ... delicious enactment before ? He should get forced himself on Yasmir, given her a cock Bruglir could never go for to harden in his wildest of dreams. Hell, even urial. Fucking that misbegot cripple would own put him in his place. Malus'nous swam with sick thought 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 piece of the retainer wished that he 'd had a tub prior to ... what his Almighty was about to do to him. He was no stranger to anal intercourse ; when he 'd been ordered to ingratiate himself with Bruglir 's crew on their last escapade, that had been something his tastes had been opened to. But with Malus ? Hauclir shuddered, his own fleshy penis barely erect, moth-eaten with dread.

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

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

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

'' Lubricate your putz, dear, dear Hauclir. '' Malus reeled at the words springing from his tongue. What was he saying ? Suddenly his center went taught. T'zarkan 's eel-like tendrils coiled nastily about him. What is this guile, genus Malus thought, challenging the daimon. T'zarkan, the audience that had been laughing all along, was aching to excuse, but first he continued to address Hauclir through Malus'mouth. `` Now, click your Godhead ! ``

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

The servant crawled onto the bed, his look still a picture of pure fear. He rubbed more of the lube about his humanness, then tipped what remained of the ampule into and around his lord 's anal passage as best he could. With unwilling hands, he clasped Malus'waist, and poked his half flaccid turncock into the rift. He let out a slight moan. Malus was cockeyed 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 speculative than any nightmare he could possibly have.

Oh, it 's all real, said T'zarkan, the words coming in slithery rasps through Malus'pinna, over the sound of Hauclir 's noisy ventilation and the sound of his balls slapping about with each thrusting. You were a fool, genus Malus, T'zarkan continued, to think you could drown me out with your alcohol or your Druchii intermixture. The daemon savoured every bit of genus Malus'forcible annoyance and mental screeching. I am your sea captain, the Drinker of worldly concern intoned, and you will not forget that. You felt the true office I offered, the daemon pulled on the mineral vein that ran through the highborn 's prick to illustrate his item, the action giving a twinge of discomforting pleasance, but now you will receive an impossibly small taste of the punishments that await all those who fail me !

***

Outside the chamber lurked another figure, though this dark was zilch at all like the one which had slipped into the highborn 's room. This phantasm was mordant than nigrify, practically invisible to any who might chance upon it. Whereas Hauclir had cut a bumbling fig, this one was skilled to a deathly horizontal surface. A genuine master of stealth. A unfeigned assassin. The flesh house 's owner prided herself on affording her sponsor rarely-paralleled discretion and safety device, but this intruder had slipped in completely undetected, and would slip out in much the same manner. In fact, this mortal had travelled all the way from Hag Graef, and such was their power to stay hide, that they were still believed to be right there, asleep, at this very second.

Arleth Vann left cypher to opportunity when it came to genus Malus, the Druchii they believed to be the vaticinate scourge. genus Malus had, as usual, proved troublesome to his plans and decided to remain away from the Hag for now, and so Arleth was practically obliged to make the distance and quietly steal upon his lord, if only to agree up on the man and do certain that the future Lord of Ruin had come to no ill fortune. He had been pleased to see the highborn safe and voice, asleep on silk sheets and enjoying some rest. He could n't say the Sami of Hauclir, but he bore the latest accession to the family 's effect no ill will. He had been about to leave, after making transcription with some of the local anaesthetic cultists to make his overlord 's stay in this place 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 get a line it all : their watchword, their moans, the creaking of the bed, the smacking sound of skin on skin, the slippery racket of lubricated insight. It made him frown as stifle flavour of his own bubbled up about his sex-starved consistency. There had been no time for loveplay in the synagogue, and since he 'd left to conjoin up the true faith, only combat and the joy of killing had been on his mind. But this ... if the Almighty of ruining 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 elbow room Arleth began to diddle with himself for the number one time. He reached down into his flowing robes and tugged at his waking cock. The footling sarcoid stump began to grow hard at his touch. He tried to remember how he 'd seen the bawd and slaves pleasure each other. Before long, he was pumping and jerking away, letting out little moans of his own to come with those of his beloved gamy handmaid 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 sheet of paper. His own cock had gone off multiple times, adding to the terms. The flesh planetary house owner would be expecting a generous fee for the cleaning that her slave would be required to do the following cockcrow. 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 robe about himself and began making for the door. Despite the Night 's caper being entirely at his God Almighty 's invitation, Hauclir felt dirty at what he 'd been party to, and had decided that the following grade of legal action was to find a swallow, a bath, and then a female person slave to assert his sex upon.

As the retainer made it to the door, praying all the while to the Dark Mother that he 'd be allowed to exit with his head, Malus stopped him with five short-circuit words.

'' Hauclir. Never speak of this. ``

Hauclir nodded. `` Never my God Almighty. '' He could n't face Malus. Instead, he left in ignominy, slipping out of the doorway. He remembered to close it this time. As he left, he stood in a puddle 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 woven thing. He wiped his air ft on the rug, then scampered away. He needed that drink badly.

genus Malus lay there, looking up at the flesh lure, whips and chains dangling from the nighttime ceiling, refusing to let his eyes water from the pain still throbbing about his rear. He 'd withstood the savage anguish of Drachaus, Valkhaurs and his own sweet-smelling sib ; he was n't about to dishonour himself with an formula of weakness before T'zarkan. He closed his eyes. He would get revenge. He had his hate. The demon could n't take that away from him. The daemon could only invigorate more of it. And with hatred, all things were possible .