Drow's Dilemma Ep. 144: Warned

Author's Note:

A Drow's Dilemma began as a one-on-one roleplaying project and has been converted into a chapter-by-chapter format for weekly posting with the permission and assistance from my partner. It will contain a considerable amount of sexual themes such as femdom, lesbian, straight, 'reverse' rape, BDSM, group sex, romance, and other themes. The main goal of the story, however, is to tell an epic tale of adventures, gods and goddesses, fae, and nymphomaniacs. This episode and every episode to come will be available for free on Literotica for the foreseeable future. All characters that engage in sexual or suggestive situations are mentally and sexually mature: the human equivalent of 18 for their race.

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Episode 144: Warned

Deep in a forest where sheer cliff faces punched into the sky during the ancient cataclysm that befell Duesterra, there was a little spot where life was more vibrant than anything around it. This particular cliff was set slightly apart from its kin and overlooked a sunny courtyard to the south. Upon first glance, the carved decorations looked like ancient ruins. Waterfalls tumbled down the cliff and drained into pools and rivers. Emerging from those waters were green plants, fungus, and algae that clung to every stone structure. Wildflowers grew enthusiastically where there weren't huge trees that shaded various portions of dry ground.

Built right into the cliff was a stone structure that looked like an old, forgotten palace built in a style reminiscent of drow architecture. It was framed by two of the larger waterfalls, its steps into the doorway pillowed by rainbow-adorned mists. On closer inspection, none of the carved stone was crumbled or imperfect, though ivy clung to it in many places. Each beautiful depiction of animals, fish, and nude women - not painted, but formed with precious stones inlaid into the walls - were perfectly enhanced by the foliage rather than covered by the climbing plants. Not a piece was missing or looted.

A nude woman threw herself off of the left waterfall, whooping and giggling as she dove gracefully into the pool below. It distracted a furtive figure slinking through the shadow of an old-looking willow tree. He looked over towards the front of the palace to see the second naiad do a flip off of the other waterfall. Their bubbling giggles came together and flowed through the air. The male looking at them for a moment let out a relieved, fond sigh. They would be occupied for a little while longer; they were doing diving contests again. He might be able to do his chores uninterrupted. For once.

Tsabdrin turned his gaze back to where he was going. Hidden in some dense brush was a gate, which he passed through with the pensive look of someone who had done this dozens of times. On the other side was a very different sight from the courtyard. A small bird that the naiads called "chickens" rooted and pecked through the large grassy pasture. Excited bleeting-bellowing came from around an ornate stone building and announced the approach of the hairy, cloven-hoofed animals eager to be milked. In a fenced-off area in the far corner, boars screamed for their breakfast. His raptors screeched in the distance, having heard the commotion.

"Shush, shush!" Tsabdrin whispered in a tight voice. "You'll remind them about me!"

The various animals actually listened to their beastmaster, but they still ran, paced, and wagged their tails eagerly. He ignored them while he walked to a little structure woven out of wood. He reached under a chicken (making impotent, indignant noises) and pulled out the three eggs on which she was sitting. The chickens were marvelous animals: good to eat and layers of delicious eggs year-round. They were the descendants of flocks kept by the people who lived there so long ago, now free to roam wild throughout the land. These ones were small, flighty, and not at all tame. Tsabdrin was only a couple of months into his breeding program to create a meatier, more docile bird. Thankfully, for now, he could use his various magics to keep them tame.

His eggs went into a magical bag specially made for keeping them fresh. He turned his attention to the hairy cloven-hood creatures. Mountain goats, apparently, from the more craggy terrain to the north. They reminded him of the giant antelope that bounded across the plains. His allosaurs used to hunt them. The goats could be brushed out for fiber to make clothing, milked, or eaten. They needed a substantial amount of breeding to be good at any of those, though. And to be tame enough for anyone who wasn't a ranger, druid, or nymph to interact with them. The two heavy-uddered females waddled their way to the breeding stand to let him milk them out.

With a pail full of milk (that he stored with the eggs), he let out the baby goats to join with their mothers. Humming an old song to himself, Tsabdrin pulled out a bowl of scraps from another one of his bags. The boars were the happy recipients of the kitchen waste. These were the standard forest boars that Tsabdrin encountered most places around the surface of Niutitana. These, too, would be the subjects of extensive breeding programs.

Tsabdrin settled cross-legged in the grass and summoned one of the hairy mother goats to him. The drow produced a brush and began running its bristles through the incredibly soft coat. As he collected more and more fiber, the goat dozed off happily. His mind wandered to contemplate his life, as it usually did during this peaceful morning ritual.

He had a lot of work and a lot of plans for the little homestead he had founded with his 'apprentices' after their mission to scout Clachleom had been completed due to the end of the civil war and the alliance between Clachleom and Norahist. These animals were just the beginning. The only obstacle was the constant distraction of being the nymph's personal stud. Consort was a better word for it, he supposed. He was 'owned' by the naiad sisters who happily loaned him out as a party favor for all the guests they had. And there were many. Any nymph passing through towards the Nymph Palace stopped here and enjoyed the homestead's 'hospitality.'

It was what most well-bred drow males could expect from life, so he supposed he couldn't complain that much. House Naiad (or whatever they wanted to call themselves) was massively kinder and gentler than any house he could have hoped to be tied to. It was just... they were far hornier than the drow he would have been expected to serve. And they had the tendency to invite everyone to join the house.

That was how they gained the two Oreads. They turned his pretty cave into a grand palace. That made them a fine addition, he had to admit, though they were very strange. Only spoke in rhyming couplets that only the naiads understood, or occasional laconic phrases. Never showed emotion. The first few times they expressionlessly yanked down his trousers and silently had sex with him was surreal. The naiads assured him that the mountain nymphs were quite fond of him despite their apparent indifference.

Sometimes he complained that he was a mere breeding stud to them... and that may have been true. All four nymphs had been content to immerse themselves in nature and never design anything more. The mansion and stableyard only existed because he gave his nymphs direction, but all that was for his benefit. He longed for someone less... alien. Someone like...

He shook the thought from his head with a sigh. He felt like he had to plan his days around them. Avoid them much of the time so he could accomplish things. Think of ways to harness their energy where there wasn't something he could do on his own. That was how one dealt with the forces of nature. A waterfall was poor companionship; he wanted a partner.

Despite that, he wasn't unhappy. This space he'd carved out of the wilderness was the most wonderful place he'd ever lived. He had purpose, he wasn't being abused, and he got to live his life mostly how he wanted. Loneliness could be overcome. Eventually. Or, perhaps, this was a personality trait of his now? The lonely drow ranger, making the wilderness his home and only companion while the world happened somewhere else.

Tsabdrin scoffed at himself, making the goat next to him twitch and grunt in annoyance.

Suddenly, two hands covered his eyes, and a soft body pressed up against his back.

"Guess who!" a familiar voice giggled, followed by another giggling.

"You are playing tricks again, aren't you, Nekaia?" Tsabdrin said in a mildly amused tone. He would have been more annoyed by their interruption, but he was almost done with morning chores.

"That never works on you anymore!" Nekaia moved in front of him. Her red-brown iron-mud hair hung damp around her, and her river-weed green eyes darted around in amusement, despite her exaggerated pout. Nekaia was the shorter of the nymph sisters and also the younger by a year. While nymphs almost always referred to other nymphs as 'sister,' it was biologically true for these two, who had been born from a nymph mother and a half-nymph father. Althaia claimed that they were about a year younger than her, making them very young indeed. She probably meant that Nekaia was a year younger.

Nekaia, her perfect skin still damp, had put back on her distractingly exposing outfit. Made of red-brown leather that matched her hair, she still had boots, bracers, a micro-skirt that barely covered her butt, and a bra. There was some enchantment in that leather skirt - he had learned - as it never flashed what was underneath unless she wanted it to.

There was almost never anything underneath, of course.

Phaile, the taller and less curvy Naiad, giggled, embraced him tightly, then danced around to out in front of him with her sister. She had not bothered to put her clothing back on: her divinely perfect body on full display. If they had not granted Tsabdrin the Nymph's Kiss protection he would be quite blind now. "We came to get you because Ornia has made a discovery in the Deep cavern that she wants you to see!"

"We don't like it down there," Nekaia said. "Too dark and gloomy."

"Why do you only like surface rivers? There are many underground too, you know," Tsabdrin asked in amusement.

"We like underground rivers sometimes!" Phaile declared. "But only if they are in large caverns with beautiful fungal forests."

"Not that we have ever been in such a place," Nekaia added. "But we would love to visit one!"

"Or create it!" Phaile said in an excited tone.

"Oh... yes! We need a Lampad to help! Or a dryad... or both!"

"A lampad and a dryad! Oh, and some Anthusae!"

"There are a lot of Lampads and Dryads and Anthusae up at Nymphgarden. Olyrei was telling us all about it! We can invite some of them to live with us in our glade!"

"I think that Master here calls it a 'House'. It is not really a glade when so much is underground, you know?"

"That is right. A House. He said we were 'House Naiad'." The naiads giggled.

"Not anymore. Less than half of us are Naiads. We need to think of a different name..."

"A different name will come when we are inspired, I think. Perhaps during a council where we organize all the males you are bringing along in addition to the nymphs. You four are already more than I can handle," Tsabdrin reminded them tiredly.

"Other males would be for other households," Phaile sniffed. "Not ours. Nymphs only have one adult male per household."

"Yeah, because having sex with more than one male makes us infertile and does not feel as good," Nekaia added. "Once our bodies are attuned to a male he inherently feels better to us than other males. But I am sure you can keep up with a few more of us!"

Phaile grinned wickedly, sliding up next to Tsabdrin, her hand slipping underneath his tunic. "Well, maybe not, sister. Should we check?"

Nekaia licked her lips, and her clothes seemed to turn to liquid and flow off of her. "You are right! We should see if our Dear Master has enough... energy for us."

The two naiads were much, much taller than Tsabdrin. His head barely came up to their breasts. Purring, they pressed up against him, their dextrous hands starting to remove his clothing.

"-Ahem," Tsabdrin cleared his throat. "There was something Ornia wanted to show me? If you two get started now, we'll be keeping her waiting for a long time."

"Ornia said it was not urgent," Nekaia murmured, nipping at his ear.

"And we do not have to take very long," Phaile added, kneeling down in front of him. Finishing removing his clothing so that he was no more clothed than they, she began playing with his manhood, rapidly getting it back up to full size.

"We just want a few quick orgasms from you," Nekaia kissed his neck. "Nothing major."

"It feels major after you've already had several rounds early this morning," he responded with a weary sigh.

"I would hope it does!" Phaile laughed. "Sex with nymphs should always be a major event! It is every man's dream to be Master to a glad full of loving nymphs. You really are very blessed!" She began licking his shaft, seemingly mesmerized by it.

Tsabdrin rolled his eyes. It had never been a dream for him. "They don't know what they're wishing for." Each of his hands went to each of the naiads. He was conditioned to never turn down a female of his house. Even if he'd rather not be bothered, he wouldn't turn them down.

Nekaia pouted. "You make it sound like loving us is some sort of unpleasant chore. Is it really so bad?"

"This is why I tell you that there needs to be more males!" Tsabdrin said, sounding a little frustrated. "I want to-" he cut off. He didn't really know what he wanted. "I wouldn't like for you four to become unhappy, but I have so much baggage that I don't know if I have the capacity. I am not Caleldir."

Phaile pulled away, her pout replaced by a sad expression. "We know you have baggage," she said softly. "We just hoped we could make you forget about it."

Nekaia let go of him. Both Naiads looked genuinely upset.

"We're sorry," Nekaia mumbled. "It is just..." She took a deep breath. Her body turned into water and splashed down onto the ground, disappearing in the Naiad's favorite low-range teleport spell.

Phaile stood up and took a few steps back. "You are more than enough for us, and for any other sisters we invite along," she said gently. "What makes us unhappy is your worrying. We knew what your baggage was, and do not care. When you are ready to just enjoy our company, we will be there."

She turned into water and ported away as well. Tsabdrin was alone with a raging hardon. Which didn't bother him much. He felt bad to disappoint them, but whenever they spoke of adding more and more nymphs to the House, he felt the iron grip of dread in his chest. The drow was already having way more sex than he wanted. Dread combined with frustration. They were just going to get carried away and add more nymphs anyway. It wouldn't be out of maliciousness, he knew, they would just get carried away and make promises before thinking about his feelings on the matter.

Grumbling to himself about dominant women and never escaping them, Tsabdrin stood and dressed himself. One of the Oreads, Ornia, wanted to show him something, didn't she? He sighed. He supposed he'd better try to find her and see what it was.

The Oreads could swim through stone like Naiads swam through water, and could shape it to whatever form they wished with little more than a wave of the hand. They also had a work ethic comparable to that of the dwarves, though the stone-nymphs out in the wild seemed to use this purely to do tiny, imperceptible changes to the world in a way that made their handiwork almost invisible.

But once Tsabdrin had inspired them to proactively create on a larger scale, the two Oreads did the work of dozens of tireless dwarves in carving through the solid stone of the foothills they had settled in. Ornia especially loved to create vast halls and chambers one after another, that her sister Olyrei would come after and beautify.

Most passages Ornia carved looked identical to natural caverns. So identical that it made one wonder how much of the Underdark had been created by the Nymphs long ago. As one who had spent centuries in the Underdark, Tsabrin could not help but feel a sense of familiarity with the odd, twisting passages and large caverns that Ornia had left in her wake, the industrious Oread carving ever down and deeper for some purpose that she did not elaborate on.

Tsabdrin headed down through these 'natural' caves to the Deephouse, a palatial residence hundreds of feet underneath their main lodgings. Inspired by Tsabdrin's description of House Duskhaven, the place was quickly becoming grander than its inspiration; which was especially marvelous considering that unlike the centuries of work that had taken to create Ornia and Olyrei had spit this place out over a couple of weeks of flurried activity before deciding to move on to their current projects.

After visiting Nymphgarden, Olyrei had moved up back near the surface to create more artwork, a lot of it frescoes made of stone, metal ores, and raw gems that depicted stories that Tsabdrin had told them, or scenes from nymph history, or religious artwork glorifying Aelsuna and Ellistraea, and the rest being statues of nymphs, goddesses, allosauruses, birds and beasts, and Tsadbrin himself.

Ornia, for her part, had gone back to her apparent mission of creating a miniature Underdark even deeper beneath the Deephouse. It was in this burgeoning collection of 'natural' passages and caverns that Tsabdrin finally found the Stone Nymph.

The flesh of the Oread Ornia almost looked to be carved from marble, with her long hair being the mottled metallic grey of iron ore, and her eyes appearing to be smoothed amethysts. If she stood perfectly still without blinking or breathing (which she was well capable of doing for hours at a time), she could be mistaken for a golem of truly surpassing quality. But, she did move and breathe. Her large, marbled breasts jiggled like any flesh, her orelike hair hung down as delicately as silk. Tsabdrin knew from experience that though her skin was slightly cooler than his, it was still soft and inviting. She was very slightly shorter and more pear-shaped than her sister, with a bottom-heavy hourglass shape. While not nearly as tall as the Naiads, she still had almost a head on him.

The Oreads had shown up wearing clothing that seemed to have been made by dwarves. Boots, belts, and bracers of grey leather embroidered with gold filigree, and the highest quality grey linen that dwarven master weavers could create, bordered by more elegant golden filigree. Not that there was much linen there: just a simple bra and two long, thin pieces of cloth hanging from their belts, one in front and one in back. It was purely a matter of enchantment that the Oreads did not flash pussy and buttcrack every time they moved faster than a sedate walk.

The sisters had also brought with them dwarf-made weapons: a set of adamantine knuckle dusters, slingshots, and a leather pouch full of smooth orbs of adamantine ore. The Oreads could control the ore telekinetically, but with the additional force of their slingshots, they could perform some truly horrifying feats.

Ornia looked towards Tsabdrin, a stoic non-expression on her flawlessly carved face. She gave no acknowledgment of having called him here. He knew not to be discouraged, however. 'His' Oreads never emoted and almost never spoke. There was some other way that they primarily communicated, which all nymphs seemed to understand perfectly well. Unfortunately, he was not a nymph. Tsabdrin often needed the naiads to translate for him

... and he had just offended them. He would have to navigate as best he could by himself.

"Ornia. You had something to show me?" he asked respectfully.