Path of Evil Ch. 04 Pt. 02

This was inspired by the Path of Evil Module for NWN2—little besides character names and abilities are used.

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The story thus far: While Thurlith plays politics with his new domain, Darmorel Forgedawn is enjoying the benefits of being the daughter of the ruler of Narito, though she is not in fact enjoying being that bitch's daughter, as mother and daughter have been feuding, with words and blades for the last five years, since Darmorel turned sixteen. Note: Darmorel is a bit squickier than anyone else we've encountered thus far, be aware.

Darmorel looked like a queen. Everyone said that. Even when she wasn't present. And not just because they were afraid that people who were scared of her would report them and they'd end up in a dark hole, or scattered amongst several dark holes.

She was a tall, elegant woman, ivory skin, long raven hair, large breasts that drew the eye up from a trim waist which flared to wide hips, built to cushion a man and birth his children. Her long legs some said were meant to be knelt before, others said they were meant to be wrapped around a man's waist as he filled and bred her.

At the moment the long legs were resting on the shoulders of her elvish maidservant, who was, obediently, licking her cunt as Darmorel ate dinner. Twin guards, large half-orcs stood behind the seated princess, carefully not looking at the delicious scene before them (as the last guard to leer at the princess had discovered that 'You're an emasculated fool!' was an accurate prediction not an empty phrase). Instead the guards kept their eyes on the door, trying to ignore the soft sounds of the maid working at Darmorel's pussy with her tongue and a single nimble finger.

Her orders were to keep the princess happy, but not make her cum while she was eating. If she did, then the noblewoman would put down her fork and use one of the other instruments on the table to punish her. Beside the silverware which flanked a plate filled with expensive treats lay a dozen tools of...discipline. Everything from simple crops to cruelly barbed whips designed for use in lengthy executions.

Darmorel waved over the slender elvish man, husband of the woman between her legs and pointed at one of tarts meant to be eaten with fingers. She would not dirty hers with food. Instead the elf lifted the tart and offered it to her, carefully not looking down at his wife between the human's legs. Not that he could have seen her. The royal's voluminous black skirts completely covered the busy maid. He fed her a bite of the tart, then stood there, waiting for her to signal for a second, or wave him away.

She did neither, instead grabbing the crop by her plate and striking the elf hard across his face. He didn't drop the tart. Darmorel smiled cruelly, squeezing strong thighs around his wife's head, feeling those sharp ears pressing into her soft thighs. She preferred to have reasons to punish people, but she didn't require them. Her hand returned the crop to its place and reached for a heavier whip, something that would make the slight elf drop the tart and give her an excuse for a more...thorough punishment.

These two had seen too much. It was close to time to get rid of them. This raised two questions: How to do it so it didn't cause her any trouble? And how to do it so it caused her the most pleasure?

Before she could lift the whip, the doors slammed open. The guards lifted their axes, then dropped them again. Four members of the royal guard in heavy plate armor stalked in, before her mother. Darmorel had gotten her height, hair and complexion from her father and her figure from her mother.

Ilastan was a middle aged woman, with short red hair that framed a pretty, though not classically beautiful face. The densely muscled rogue had claimed rulership of Narito by the simple of killing its former duke and his entire family and moving into the palace. And killing anyone who didn't obey her. Being a high level adventurer had many perks.

Darmorel knew she could not equal her mother in straight combat, nor could any of her guards or the adventurer's she'd met. But, by the same token, her mother could not defeat her, so long as she didn't break, any punishment her mother sentenced her to had to end, for otherwise her great efforts to build a legacy for herself, for which Ilastan had sacrificed almost everything, would be for naught.

They'd already gone four rounds in the last nineteen months, even since she'd broken her engagement to a local baron by poisoning the dumbass.

The maid froze at the sound of Ilastan's voice. "Dear daughter, I see you are hard at work, gaining the skills you need rule this city."

Those long legs wrapped around the elf's back, heels digging cruelly into soft flesh and forcing the elf's nose against the princess's hard clit. Darmorel dropped the whip and picked up a golden chalice filled with expensive wine. Her free hand waved the male elf away, devious mind trying to figure out why her mother was here, but lust clouded it, as the scenario she'd been creating to dispose of her elvish servants was deliciously depraved. "Indeed, Ilastan," she gasped, not bothering to hide her arousal. "One must master the peasants, if one would lead them." She groaned. "And know how to use them to meet my needs."

"And then kill them?" Ilastan countered. "You've wasted many servants. It's becoming difficult to find qualified people."

"That's what they're for." Darmorel responded, the hand holding the wineglass waved towards her guards as the maid lapped at her cunt once again, tongue running her pussy lips, then brushing over her clit. The princess's legs tightened instinctively pulling the maid up, and grinding her chin against her clit, using the bitch's entire face as a sex toy. She was moments from orgasm, the hand holding the wine was shaking with pleasure, from the situation, from her toy's skill, from the thought of what she would do to the elves after she came and she had cause to punish them once again.

"Them?" Ilastan asked, stepping towards the massively muscled pair of guards. Her own quartet had fallen in behind the half-orcs, in position to strike them down at a word. A blade flashed from nowhere and the half-orc began to crumple, blade embedded in his throat, severing his spine, killing him before he hit the ground. Also before he hit the ground, the small woman spun and a blade flashed through the air and slid through the other guard's eye into his brain.

Darmorel was too far gone. She moaned and her pussy flared, spurting her juices all over the face of the suddenly despairing maid-servant. "Go get the servants. They work for me now." Ilastan said. Rough hands ripped the elves from Ilastan's side, and cunt. But the hands were still careful not to touch the princess herself.

Darmorel leaned back in her chair, a bright flush on her pale skin and silently toasted her mother and the dead guards, before drinking deeply, enjoying the afterglow. "Did you just come here to help me achieve the gushiest orgasm ever, or was there another reason for your visit, mother dear?" She asked, amused and lusty smile decorating her classically beautiful face.

"The other reason we've had trouble finding servants is that the Cult of the Wyrm has been working the slums. You're going to stop them. Prove yourself."

Ilastan's face was odd, something was wrong. Better to go along for now. "Fine, fine, I'll get the rest of my guards to go root out some cultists and pick up some new servants." She couldn't resist. "Some pretty ones, too."

"That would be difficult for corpses."

Darmorel's dark eyes widened involuntarily. "You killed all my guards? Fine. I'll hire some adventurers."

"Which is how I ended up involved in Narito's affairs in the first place. You recall how that ended, yes?" Ilastan countered.

"Then what do you expect me to do?" Darmorel asked.

"Clean up the mess. I don't care how. Don't come back until you do."

"Come back?"

Five minutes later, Darmorel walked out the front door, with nothing but the clothes on her back and the contents of her various hidden pockets. She'd originally struggled when the four guards had picked her up and carried her towards the door, but she'd managed to recover before reaching the door. Walking out, she was still covered by her and her mother's reputation, carried out, she was a helpless outcast. Or apparently helpless, at least. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to defeat the Cult of the Wyrm. She would definitely need help, and her mother definitely wasn't going to change her mind.

"That went bad fast." She muttered to herself, before heading to the nearest bar.