Subterrane Ch. 02byEtaski©
The glaring Duergar opened his mouth as if to speak or snarl, then his eyes flew wide and he suddenly sucked in his breath and went rigid for a moment.
We were still staring at each other and I still had hold of his belt.
I felt a power I didn't understand connecting us—no—swamping over us, heavy and crushing like a flash flood. Whether it was something leftover inside me from Lolth's ritual or it was something inside this dwarf's kinetic head, it threatened to rob us of our right minds.
*Ichfren gow. Fretizga kohr!* he said, although I'd heard it distinctly inside my own mind, a telepathic link just like with Lelinahdara the Priestess.
I didn't understand a word but just as I could sense the Priestess's disposition while on the altar then, so too could I sense exactly what the psionic meant now.
He could smell me, sense my lust. He didn't understand why I was naked or why the smell alone made him want to fuck the "cowardly trickery" out of me ...but he was going to do it anyway.
*Try,* my mind mocked back and he heard me.
We started to fight.
I've truly never heard of a Duergar and a Drow trying to rape each other. One might think that the two cancelled each other out, made it a mutual goal of a consensual nature, right? Except that we were both as horrified at what was happening as we were aching to couple.
He'd started by reaching up and gripping my arms in an iron grasp and hauling me atop him. I could feel a short but stout erection pressing into my stomach, his trousers already loosened as the belt flopped. My nipples scraped across the stiff leather chest piece and he breathed heavily in my face, smelling of the ale I'd just sampled. My legs parted to brace my knees on either side of his thighs and my hips jerked as if to get closer to the phallus nearby.
"Let me go!" I yelled in Drow, unable to focus on speaking Trade right then, and I didn't pull away from him.
He laughed and snarled at the same time. Then he bit me on the shoulder when I jabbed him in the eye. I quickly yanked at the tie holding the cloak to my shoulders and let it drop; I would not be strangled with it!
We thrashed violently across the ground but I was at a serious disadvantage. While I had the superior dexterity, he was stronger and no stranger to grappling; he was also protected by his armor and clothing. He injured me three times for every injury I did him, though at this point they were mostly bruises, scratches, and bites. Still, this clearly was not the way to hope I would survive this.
I was working desperately not to be pinned beneath him; I kept all momentum going constantly, and we were rolling far away from where we began. The Duergar's stout cock had long been exposed to the air (no comment who did it), and I used his pants to limit the use of his legs as we wrestled. Nonetheless, it was my legs that we focused on whether or not they spread the widest. All he had to do was worm between them.
One of our many rolls finally ended against the wall of the pathway; still raging, I was the one with my back pinned to it and the dwarf with skin almost as dark as mine forced his way for the fifth or sixth time between my thighs.
He managed to get to his knees, both arms locked around my waist and trapping my arms, hauling me up to settle me onto his lap. I tried but could not break the hold this time; I had nowhere to go with the wall behind me and all four of my limbs were restricted.
"No!" I blurted, jerking with both nausea and a sharp thrill as I felt the blunt, hot tip probing at my sex, more than wet enough to accept him.
"Kwernish toug, Drowen!" he yelled back, looking up at me infuriated, his meaning slamming into my consciousness so hard that I flinched.
*What have you done to me, Drow?*
I had no answer, had no idea, and I stared at him before, with a mutual grunt, he thrust his pole into me, the girth of which I could say only Kerse was similar...but the Draegloth was twice the Duergar's stature. Were the grey dwarves all shaped that way or was it just this one...?
My back scraped and pressed painfully against the stone as he fucked me against the wall, his puffing nose and mouth and scratching beard pressed against my breasts.
I felt the pain of the rock and horror of our coupling, the disbelief that my cunt had been pried open by a wide Duergar cock and was now wrapped snugly around it. I didn't want it as bursts of pleasure shot through me, as my body stroked him just as he stroked me, and my wailing was pure release as I climaxed then.
I didn't seem to come down from it but leveled off in a pool of pleasure that swirled around me and kept me spinning. Oh Lolth, no, I couldn't think, I couldn't think!
I tried to get away from him, gasping in pleasure and rage, wriggling as he held on tight to me as though he was drowning, as he continued plowing into me. What made it worse was that I could feel his pleasure in my mind as well; he recognized how much tighter my slit was to his past experience, he loved it, and his thoughts were quickly becoming much blacker.
He was going to use me in every way, until I was loose and broken, then he was going to kill me.
In the future he was going to do this to every Drow he captured, for surely we all must cum from being forcefully taken. He was no longer afraid of us. He was gloating.
I could see everything he planned to do, and it enraged me. He would not find future captives as...compromised as me.
No, I would not be the weak link!
And he could not be allowed to live to tell this tale.
Though I railed against it, I climaxed twice more before his breath began to get very choppy and ragged. His violent, murderous thoughts quieted at last as he clenched his teeth, grunted and held still, his cock spurting and making my passage even slicker. No doubt it would soon drip onto the stones beneath us.
"Aw, Lolth, no," I groaned in disgust, jerking hard in his grasp and finally freeing one arm.
A Duergar had deposited greasy dwarven seed inside me! I struck his shoulder in frustration and humiliation as he huffed humid breath on my skin and he only chuckled. I felt no thrill this time, no echo of his excitement; I felt only soiled.
From that I realized I was alone inside my mind again; at last I could think clearly. For the first time since waking up outside of the City, I was myself again.
I had my one chance before he recovered his breath. My free hand scrabbled for the first thing it could reach.
"Too late to regret getting so close," I whispered in Trade before stabbing the sharp edge of a loose stone into his unprotected temple.
I did not check to see if he was already dead before scrambling to retrieve my House's blade from the ground and returning to slit his throat as I should have done at the start. The semen leaking down my thighs was my own fault.
At the same time...the clarity of thought and the calmness of being was refreshing. It would seem my body was finally quenched of its thirsts. I could also suppose that, of all males that might have provided the service, this one likely couldn't impregnate me. Even in lore, no one had ever heard of a half-dwarf, half-elf.
Either it simply couldn't happen, or no such half-breeds had ever been allowed to live.
*Thanks a lot, goddess.* I thought again that she must really be laughing now. Imagining that gave me the focus to act and not lie down in shock.
I did not act on my first impulse, which was to find something to wipe the moisture away from between my legs. I left it there.
I had my reasons. Even if I would waste the energy to drag this body somewhere off the path where some denizen might find it and eat it before it was discovered by other Duergar, I wouldn't get it far. Also it would do no good because there would be a gloriously bright blood trail the whole way leading right to it. Already I was sure something must be following the scent of blood to here, and I had to be gone long before that time.
In the instance that Duergar did make it here first, I had to obscure as much of the "reenactment" that they could figure out with what was left behind. That meant *not* using the blanket to wipe the semen away only to leave it here for them to find. That meant pulling up and closing the grey dwarf's pants and spending a decent bit of time piling dirt and rocks on top of the body to ruin physical evidence.
I scattered the contents of his pack farther out and about and, in addition to the waterskin and food pouch, cloak, belt, and my own blade, I also picked up most of the raw gems and the tool kit that contained the most pieces and took that with me as well. I intended to dump it later, farther from here, I only wanted to obscure the reason for the attack.
The reason being just food and water.
And he had ended up fucking me in order for me to get it... Again, my own fault. I could easily have killed him first. I didn't.
I won't make that mistake again, divine hungers or not.
I took another swig of the ale-water to hopefully numb some of the soreness all over and left the semen on my thighs as a reminder as I began running down the passage, gaining quick distance from the scene of the skirmish. Without the dizziness caused by those cursed lust spells, my senses were sharp enough to run and still be aware of what was around me.
I also finally knew I was heading in the right direction to get back home. The pulses this far deep, this close to the planet's core, were each their own rhythm, and one became accustomed to sensing those closest to where they were born.
I was still at least a wake-cycle away. I wanted to make as much progress as I could before I found out whether this clarity was a temporary reprieve or not.
I took the first opportunity to wash again, and by then, my feet had long begun to ache from sprinting along the naked stone. It was worn smooth in many places and I kept to those to avoid more unnecessary cuts and scrapes but that didn't help the simple fact that I had not trained my feet to be this tough.
An oversight I'd have to correct, if I survived.
The underground river that I found was enticing, it looked cool and cleansing. I wanted little else at the moment than to jump in; my body had actually begun to smell bad.
Correction: I could smell the marks of the Duergar on me, and the heat from my long run kept his essence between my thighs ripe and viable. It did not blend together happily in my nostrils.
This free-flowing river, however, still took time to check out and make sure that washing was safe, just as at the deep-running pool in the cave. Only a fool recklessly leaped into a moving body of water in the Underdark without sensing its depths first.
Even when I thought I had found a fairly safe place, my long dagger stayed within reach. If any tentacle that tried to loop my ankle as I stood submerged up to my thighs it would be instantly severed. I began to wash both my body and the dwarf-scented cloak.
I finally had a chance to check my injuries more closely. A few muscles had been pulled or strained, and I'd jammed one finger on my off-hand. A variety of bruises, scrapes, and cuts clearly displayed that I'd been in a close-contact fight, but the bite on my shoulder was the deepest mark. For that, I was both fortunate, and unfortunate.
No single injury I'd sustained was crippling or posed a serious threat, but the bite mark was clearly identifiable as a humanoid without fangs. There weren't too many of those down here.
I'd done what I could to cover up the scene I'd left behind, or at least disrupt its reconstruction. My own body, on the other hand, would be a perfect map, whether or not I washed away the evidence between my legs. My kind watched for these injuries, we speculated and gossiped and probed. We couldn't help it.
I could handle being watched rutting with a Draegloth; I could handle other Drow, male or female. But I would be fighting an uphill battle if others knew about the Duergar.
I hated that this necessitated another secret of my own but what could I do? I could already think of a great many things I'd do to torment a rival who'd been fucked by a dwarf and I found out about it.
It occurred to me for the first time to wonder how I might fare on my own if I simply did not return? No one had ever said I had to go back. For all they might know, I was killed by something, my remains lost or eaten, just another lesser daughter to be struck off the list of potential usurpers.
I climbed, clean as I could be, out of the water and set upon a rise that let me watch the movement of the water, the wrung-out cloak wrapped around me and naked blade clutched in my hand. The river glittered subtly with iridescent life, flickered from the shadows that passed over it. I pondered for a quite a while, feeling my sore muscles stiffening up but continuing my reverie; I needed the rest anyway.
It wasn't in my nature to run away completely. Whether it was my cowardice or my methods for stalking a goal, that sometimes couldn't be distinguished at the time it happened; I would always choose to live and run away to fight another day. But if I ran away now, not to fight at all...how did that suit me?
It didn't. I'd be allowing a chance encounter with a grey dwarf dictate whether or not I'd become a Red Sister. I could determine which this was I considered right now: it was cowardice.
Not only that, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I had learned. How many others knew for certain that Duergar could connect empathically, mind-to-mind, and be affected so strongly by divine magic and emotion? It couldn't be that many; I was one of a few that may have witnessed both the psionic strikes, of moving stone and of stabbing ether.
I'd also seen images of his job, his home, knew so briefly how he'd felt about them, about us...and I'd been the one to live at the end of it.
I'd learned far less about the wizard during the time he'd wallowed his prick in my backside.
Looking at it the other way again, I'd clearly benefited; the craving was under control for the moment and the Duergar couldn't tell the tale.
The additional knowledge I'd gained had value, regardless of how I got it, and it was a shield, a deflector, should it become a concern in the future. Wouldn't that be something a Red Sister would do? Different methods for gaining information, learning weaknesses, exploiting them or setting a trap... and wouldn't a Red Sister go farther than any Drow at Court to get it? It hadn't been intentional but opportunism was often the jewel and cream in our society. It happened, so make the most of it.
I smiled in the dark without showing teeth. Carving out a solitary life in the Underdark wilderness and trying to defend it by myself wasn't for me. I could handle my fellow sisters, I already knew the basics; I'd been doing it for most of my life.
I looked forward to my return now, I realized, as I partook of my stolen supplies, chewing slowly as I thought further. Our city had outskirts, and those smaller dwellings might contain a way to heal myself. Who said the Red Sisters had to see the bite mark at all? I could hoard the knowledge and the secret, keep them both until the right time.
My feet and limbs were not ready for further use when I finally stood up but some time spent slowly stretching (and firmly squashing my impatience to start again) eventually made it bearable. I took it more slowly and cautiously going forward, wanting most of all to avoid any more chance encounters and to conserve my energy. The howling drive to run as far as possible away from the dead Duergar had run its course hours ago.
For most of the journey, I didn't so much recognize landmarks or rock formations but could still sense when the rhythm seemed off. I changed paths and entered alternate tunnels several times, trying to keep on track with the deep pulse of my birthplace. I didn't avoid all dead ends, unfortunately, but it was good practice in keeping reign on my temper and attitude. Scowling at uncaring rock would hardly cause it to part itself for me.
Act. Don't react.
In addition to the mysterious Elder D'Shea once in a while, my thoughts also wandered to Gaelan, the youngest Sister present at my first two trials, who had touched all three of my used openings with her tongue and mouth, cleaning semen out of me before kissing me. She had not only been skilled, but had seemed to genuinely enjoy it—unlike Qivni, who had reacted with such distaste when ordered to do the same.
I wondered why Elder D'Shea had switched their places? I understood that it got me to not only admit to and face my own "soft spot," but that had been with the comparably meek and pliable Gaelan. Why start with Qivni, who clearly resented the order? Had Elder D'Shea been punishing her for something, perhaps? Or intended to make it a lesson in better self-control, given how Qivni was sniping at me during the trials, before I drew her attention with my own flaw? That was what my gut said had been happening, but I would have to watch and learn further to know for sure.
Qivni was mouth-wateringly tempting in a similar way as the faceless wizard; she had set herself up as an adversary from the start, just as he had, if in a less invasive way. Perhaps she wanted to dominate me but didn't understand me, had not watched me long enough, if at all, to know where to push me. She had been there to hear my story, but I would as yet know hers.
The question was: would it have any power over her, as mine had been released, for the most part? Had the Red Sisters stripped that from her as well? As I promised that I would do with the wizard, I rather looked forward to discovering where she rested, what drove her, and where she might crack.
Of course I could never run away from the City; how could I even consider it on account of a single dwarf? I belonged there as surely as spiders belonged in their web. That was where they caught their prey—not outside of it.
My spirit lightened and my memories of Gaelan becoming rather more clear, I felt a pleasant warming in my body as a whole and in my middle in particular. It was a bit surprising to become aroused at the memory of a female servicing me but...so be it.
The arousal came to grow in a more startling way when it naturally drifted to the reason Gaelan had had something to clean in the first place: the leavings left in or on my body by the two male Drow and the demonic offspring of a Priestess...and the tools by which they were born able to do it.
There was no changing this: I remained fully enamored of those tools. The very reason for their existence was to please my varied hungers. My memories of my trials were already becoming fodder for my future pleasure-thoughts as I remembered how they had pierced and stretched me, stroked me so hard, their need not so different from my own...
I had to stop and set my hand against the rock to steady myself as the wave built without my desire for it, and my dismay showed on my face even in solitude.
*Oh, no, not again.*
It seemed the thing to do to just then to try to bring myself to climax without fighting it, my having conveniently forgotten that this had not worked back in the cave.
It was even less effective here, as I was no longer alone. I quickly removed my sodden hand from its task and slipped down into a cracked gutter of stone that ran parallel to my current path, a tiny creek running at the very bottom of it, littered with the refuse of the traveling path.
Crouching small and still as I could beneath an overhang but well above the bit of trash and water, with my blade drawn and hand ready for a bloom of light if necessary, I remained quiet and biting my lip and fiercely denying the temptation to look and see whether any in the passing convoy were Drow I might be able to fuck. It would be too reckless, I'd been lucky to survive the last time...