It's Not Black & White Ch. 02

That actually makes some sense. "What...what do you suspect her of?"

The matron shrugged. "Nothing, at this time. Or perhaps anything and everything. Betrayal. I do not know. My other offspring are open scrolls. I have their wants and their likes through their service to the spider queen, and to the school of wizardry. Viara...is different. Her trainers can tell me little beyond her fighting skill, and her love of dalliances and coupling." She shook her head. "I need more. What I require is...you."

"But.. I'm a surfacer. A male. A human. A rivvil. Why would she ever...she will never trust me." And why should she?

The matron mother stood and walked forward until she stood close enough that he could note the distinctly different scent of her perfume. Sharper and deeper than that of her daughter, almost irritating. "I have been exceedingly civil with you, slave, have I not? Considering your position?"

"I...yes."

"You think this common? Do you think I could not whip you to the floor and make you do as I ask? I do this to show you my sincerity - and I attempt to put it into words your male brain can understand."

"Matron Mother, i-"

"So do not take me as a fool!" She shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. Her full-armed slap jerked his head back.

Hearn steeled himself for more.

Instead, she reached into her cloak and brought out a familiar, black-covered book, with a thick leather binding. "You recognize this, slave?"

A cold fist gripped his heart and he nodded. "...Yes, Matron Mother."

"Do you want it back?"

A second nod.

"Do you still think there is no way you can make my daughter see you as different than a rivvil surfacer? Or do you think there are things you can say that will make her see you different? Perhaps even...favorable, for a slave?"

He looked away. "...yes, Matron mother. There are ways."

"So when I tell you something, assume I know more than you do. Assume I am better prepared. Assume that there is nothing you can do." She had leaned close, her breath now touching his lips as she met his eyes.

Haern didn't respond.

"You will get it back when your task is finished." She walked about the chamber, to the bed. "This will be a...long plan. Do not hasten it. I know you rivvil are fond of haste. Do not be in this. If you change too quickly, my daughter will suspect something amiss. I do not want her suspecting anything. I know how surfacer's think. You will use what is in this book" She waved the volume "to convince her that you are slowly growing..." her lips twisted "attached...to her. Worship her. Slowly."

He felt sick but nodded. Forgive me. Forgive me, but this is one way. He had no reason to fully trust the woman, but it was one way to reach his goal - and while it was possible that the woman might kill him, a plan like this would without a doubt expose him to untold opportunities. And if this is what she wants, there are possibilities here. Leilana had always told him that his appearance hid a far more devious mind than people gave him credit for.

"I spoke to your handler at the pits prior to your purchase, rivvil. All you said during questioning, I know - and more. Service me as you are told and..." She allowed it to trail off.

"I will, matron mother."

"Good. I will speak to you in a ten-cycle period and you will report to me how far you have come."

"Ten cycles? Your instructions were...are, to be careful. Slow."

"They are. But I have no plans for you to idle about, slave. And my daughter is...impulsive. She may be your senior in her years - but Rivvil age quicker. By your measure, you are a male long grown to maturity. She is just blooded, and barely mature, despite her years and her appearance." She walked to the door. "Think on it. Do your task - do not report failure."

He sat down on Viara's bed after the door closed.

Fuck. Make a drow care for me? Like me? No...attachement. Remember. Not care for...somehow grow...dependant on.

Hours had passed by the time the door opened and Viara returned. The hour was late - as drow reckoned these things.

"Slave! Food. Get me something to eat. Now."

Her voice seemed different, laced perhaps a touch with unsteadiness, and a glance at her eyes, somewhat glazed, told him she was either incredibly tired or affected by something. Alcohol. Narcotics, perhaps.

He didn't respond but went to the table and cupboard where servants had left a meal less than an hour ago. Gathering a tray and items of food, he turned. "Where do you wish to eat, mistress?"

She motioned him closer, having sat down at her desk. Her cloak was unbuttoned and thrown over the back of the chair.

He frowned as he sat down the tray. Viara smelled...sharp. Unpleasant somehow. A glance from her told him she'd noticed his reaction.

"What? Something you don't like?" She demanded. "Rivvil don't drink wine?"

Wine? That? Smells like sour...something. "We...do mistress. Our wine has a different...flavor." And smell. And probably color. Gods.

"How..." he began,then halted. Stupid way to go about it. How was your day? She's not your companion, and she would think you an imbecile for the question. You are her slave! He noted her glancing expectantly, but shook his head. "Apologies, mistress. The...wine. It smells...bad." He turned and walked toward his chamber. At least she won't have any sudden civility to be suspicious about.

"I did not give you leave to go, slave."

He turned back toward her. "Well. How may I serve then. Mistress." He allowed some of the annoyance he felt to trickle in. Asked to spy. Asked to be a slave. These vile...things!

"I did not say you should do anything. But I did not tell you to move. Stand there."

He stood. Watched her go through her clothing, inspecting his work. Go to her desk and rife through some of the papers there.

"May I...draw you a bath, mistress?"

"What? You are that eager to do something, slave?"

That. And to get away from that stench. Wine? Psh! Truth be told, it wasn't half as bad - but the scent of her brought back memories from the night before. And what he'd done. And what he'd agreed to do for her...mother. He didn't respond.

"Very well, slave." She waved. "You may. Make certain the water is hot."

No worries. I'll make sure it's hot enough to scald that ass of yours red enough to show through your skin.

He did exactly that - filled the tub until the hot water seemed to be close to boiling point. Then...he reconsidered his position, what he should do and sighed, using the small knobs close to the tub to adjust the heat. What mechanical conveyance drove them, he had no idea - but it seemed practical indeed. He added some of the scent from a small bottle with a purple liquid. The smell proved to be that she seemed to love so much - that he'd come to associate with her. He used his hands to spread it about the water, coloring it the faintest tinge of purple.

"Move, slave."

He turned to see her standing behind, already disrobing. Without shame, as she'd done every other time he'd seen her. Intent on following orders, he did not look away but instead focused his eyes on a spot right next to her. While her amused smile seemed to imply she knew what he was doing, it did work.

The woman slid down into the water and sighed. "Warmer next time, slave." submerged her head in the water, then leaned back with her white hair plastered to her scalp. "But a pleasant scent."

Fucking...He wasn't used to feeling like a servant, and following her orders as such as definitely something to get used to. She didn't speak. He didn't speak. He tried not to get the pressure that wasn't there yesterday get to him. He'd have been thrilled to simply stand there, allowing her to stew in her bath like some dark vegetable. Now, on the other hand, he had a plan. An ambition. A goal. But how to approach without raising suspicion?

"May I ask a question, mistress?" That's one way.

She half-turned her head. "Very well."

"What do you...do, with your friends? Who are they?" She can't think that anything odd. Just wanting to learn.

Though she did purse her lips. "Why, slave?"

"I am...curious to learn."

"Hm. Well, i suppose folding clothing for half the day does give you time to idle. I shall have to find you something to occupy your time with." She sighed, but then turned in the tub so that she faced him with her head leaning against the other side of the tub. It also had the effect of presenting him with her naked upper torso, her breasts just above the surface of the water. Her red eyes met his for a while, and at last inclined her head.

"We spend time speaking of our houses. Our...vocations. Our goals. Our service to the spider queen. Xelara is the closest to my age and house - a sorceress of some renown, despite her relative youth. Powerful, beautiful. She is her matron's prize - an example of their glory and excellent training."'

She definitely admires her.

"She is your friend?"

"Friend?" A snort."Drow do not have 'friends', rivvil. Xelara is more than a friend. She is an...ally. For now. Someone who's interests align with mine. She is graceful, beautiful and deadly. She shares my taste in males, and she shares my taste for V'renessa. What?"

He realized he had been staring. "Nothing."

"Slave, we spoke about truth." Viara said coldly. "I will have it from you, or i will have your tongue."

"You..." he swallowed "You...lie with women as well?"

She looked as though he was dense. "I lie with whomever or whatever I wish - when I wish. I am drow."

He cleared his throat.

"What, slave? You have never seen two women together?" She seemed genuinely amused at this, her smile even seeming playful. Teasing.

"No. Mistress."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Foolish Rivvil and their customs. Limassi is another. She is the first daughter of her house. Superior to myself. For now... She is first because the old matron died not long ago, and her daughter, Limassi's mother, is unprepared for the position." She frowned. "The most powerful by far, but also the...weakest of us."

"Us, mistress?"

"Me. And Xelara. And Limassi. And then there is Alyna." Viara stretched her arms, draping them over the edges of the tub. "She is the middle daughter - as myself - of a somewhat weaker house. A fighter - and a good one. Her house recently won a war against a lesser challenger, and she struck the winning blow against their matron. It gained her respect and regard."

"I see."

"We...talk. And eat. And drink." One hand came up to run through her snow-white hair, pulling slim, black digits through the wet mass. "We amuse ourselves as drow of our station, our rank, are want to do when our attention is not needed. Practice. Battle." A sudden smile and she showed teeth. "It is glorious. We are the favored of the Spider queen, blessed be her fangs. Favored and loved, Rivvil. The envy of surfacers, the envy of the slime of the underdark. The envy..." she submerged her head again, longer this time. "...of those of lower station." She met his eyes. blinking away pearls of water. "We are the apex of living. The height of culture and civilization." She gestured around the chambers. "The warmth of the earth around us, the fear of all those who oppose us." She turned and more breathed than whispered to him "You cannot imagine what it is to be drow."

Is that truly what she thinks? "I suppose not, mistress."

"You suppose?" Her eyes flashed with anger. "Here! Now!" She barked and slapped the outside of the tub with a wet palm.

Could it sound any less like calling a dog to heel? But he went.

"Wash me, Rivvil filth." She bared her teeth, the pearlescent white of the twin row glittering in the light.

He didn't respond but started washing her as he had the time before. Haern moved the thick, warm sponge across her skin, but she slapped it away.

"No! Use your hands. Here!" She grabbed his wrist and pushed it against her left breast. "Massage me."

He swallowed but did as bid. The soft mound yielded to his hand. It was smaller than those he had seen on human women - but then again, he hadn't strictly only been with human women.

"Harder! No. Harder. Use your fingers. Like this." She brought her hand atop his, pinching her nipple between his two fingers. "Like that!"

He stared at her. Mad. The creature is mad. Does she enjoy the pain? Or does it not cause her pain? Oh, but it did. He could see her grounding her teeth, hissing sharply when he applied more pressure, pulling slightly. The now-stiff nipples pointed up.

"Two!" She grabbed his other hand, bringing it to the other breast. "Use both! Incompetent...cretin! She met his eyes. Hers were demanding, like red-hot coals. "Mmmm...like that. Slave. Rivvil. Yes. Yeee-eees." Viara drew the syllable out and leaned back languorously in the tub. Her eyelids fluttered and she whimpered as he squeezed her breasts.

Gods - how sensitive is she? More curious than anything, he applied more pressure and gave her left nipple a hard pinch, feeling a sharp, sadistic pleasure as she squirmed with her teeth visible, biting on her lower lip.

"Useless male. Useless...slave. Useless...AH!"

He'd had enough of being called useless and pinched hard enough to make her cry out. She shook against his palm. Her eyes, when she opened them, were glazed.

"Here." She moved in the tub and spread her legs. "Here now."

Hand and fingers found the softness between her legs. Upon giving her a finger, inserting it between the silken folds of her sex, she shifted again.

"Another."

"You are too tight." He protested. She can barely fit one.

She faced him, teeth bared. "I said another, slave!"

He found the angle to slip another in. Her sex did not yield easily, stretching around the two invading digits.

"Ah...Ahn!" She shook and panted "L-Lolth...watch...your daughter...!"

I'm not so sure she does, the vile bitch. But he tried to hold his hand still against her thrusting hips.

Her motions were smooth and flowing. She thrust her lower body forward and water splashed around the tub. Her chest seemed to strain. She thrust her breasts up, her nipples stiff and the graceful arch of her thorax visible. She seemed to slowly move away from him by way of thrusting forward.

Haern ground his teeth. Fucking drow bitch. Stop moving then, if you want this! With his other hand, he grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back against the edge of the tub.

"Hnnn!" She turned her head to glare for a moment only to close her eyes when his fingers drove deeper. "Worthless Sl-...AH!"

He wiggled his fingers. His other hand held her left shoulder, fingers digging against the curve of her clavicle hard enough to bruise.

"Yes....yes...yes..." She chanted as if obsessed. She spread her legs apart, allowing him easier access in the process. Slowly she lifted them, putting them on either side of the tub. Her head was fixed to look between her legs. "You...filthy...huma-!" She used his own word but the expletive was cut off by a moan.

This is how it's going to be? Insult me as I do these vile services for you? Expected to serve? Expected to spy, of all things, for your monster of a mother? The thought made him growl.

"Keep...going. Do not dare. Do not dare....do not DARE stop!"

He didn't want to stop - he wanted to strangle her in the bath. He wanted to push her beneath the surface until she stopped moving.

Suddenly she craned her neck, tossing her head as though an unruly mare. She leaned up and bit his ear - hard. The scent of her perfume, and the somewhat-sweet scent he'd come to associate with her permeated his nostrils and senses. Her white hair was slick and pressed against his neck. She grunted, her lower body grinding against his fingers.

"HNNNN!" Suddenly she bit down harder and her sex clenched once, then twice, then thrice. She rolled her hips with a fluidity that might have given some dancers he'd known pause - and envy.

The sharp pain in his ear was distant, overshadowed by her scent, her hair, and the slick feel of her warm, wet skin against his own.

"Haaa....ah..." For perhaps twenty seconds, she rocked her lower body in the water before finally unclenching her jaws. She slid back into the water. His fingers slipped out of her by themselves and she gave a weak groan as they did. She moved her legs and recovered to a sitting position with her arms over the sides of the tub.

Haern was bleeding. He knew it because of the trickling of warmth down the side of his neck and across the shirt he was wearing. He knew it because the pain in his ear was like that of a sword-wound taken in battle. His hands and fingers trembled.

Had he not met the woman's mother, he might have tried his very best to strangle Viara at that moment. Strangle, choke and break her neck, then leave her lifeless corpse in the tub.

"If you mean to do me violence, slave...."

Something of it must have shown on his face. He carefully smoothed his face and rose. "I will go clean the wound." And if there had been some bite to that comment...well, so be it.

"Not yet. You will to-. I said, not yet! Slave! SLAVE! COME HERE!"

Her shout followed him, but he ignored it. He found a white rag in his chamber and pressed it to the ear. It came away a dark crimson. He grimaced. Fucking monster. A part of him, he realized, had been aroused by the spectacle. His hard cock certainly spoke volumes - but it was not something he wanted to feel. He held the towel firm, and after a few moments sighed.

Better check up on the bitch.

When he came back, he found her climbing from the tub.

"When i tell you to do something, slave-"

"Is that being a 'generous mistress'? Biting my fucking ear half-off? Pox-marked drow cunt!" He shouted, teeth bared. So maybe he wasn't exactly calm yet.

For a second, she stood there, mouth open.

Too far. Shit. He swallowed and knelt - though kept one eye on her, in case she really meant to kill him. Damn me if i'll go out without a fight. "I...apologize. Humbly. Mistress. I did not want any wound to fester."

"Upstart slave." She hissed. "For that alone, most drow would have you executed and fed to the house lizards. Tortured first! I should do the same! Right now!" Her breaths caused her chest to heave.

He met her eyes but made sure to keep low. "You told me you were 'generous mistress'. Yes?"

"Yes, slave. Ask other slaves - if you meet them. You will see my generosity, as you still have your tongue. And your ears."

Well, apparently you need these.

"I...apologize, mistress. I am not...used to...that." Remember your mission. Remember what was said. He swallowed. Perhaps now is the time. He glanced at her and wondered if it was too soon. No risk taken, nothing gained. Time to roll the dice. "I...please forgive me. Doing such things reminds me of..." he let it trail off - as if not wanting to continue. He could have, but he did not want to tell the creature his now-dead companion's name.

She was silent for a time. "Your companion?" Her tone was perhaps an eyelash's width calmer, though not kinder by a hair.

He swallowed and inclined his head.

"When did you last lie with her?"

"What does..."

"Answer the question, slave."

"I...a week before capture. Ten days." he shrugged. Their last tryst had been quick and not at all satisfying. It was hard to make a campsite in the Underdark comfortable.

"And none since?"

"None." He shook his head.

Viara pursed her lips. "I...understand, slave. It must be a challenging situation to come to terms with. I will find you a female slave to-"

"No!"

She raised her eyebrow.