Subterrane Ch. 02

The squeak and clank of rolling metal wheels stabbed at my sensitive ears; I even felt the vibrations. One lumbering cart, the padding of many feet, likely lizard mounts. I imagined svirfneblins, the Underdark gnomes, were responsible for the construction of the cart, even if none were present. Almost certain that trade was their purpose for treading this path and I had no purpose for obstructing them. It was a necessary function within the City; it was not in my plans—current or projected—to disrupt that.

*Just go. Leave. Leave me be.*

Despite my tremors and increasingly lurid thoughts, I remained as I was, and none of those above me got the sudden inclination to investigate the gutter. Slowly the sound vanished far ahead of me and I bit down on a whine of need.

*Thank Lolth for small favors. The whore.*

I climbed back out onto the path and continued as well, very jumpy lest I either catch up to the group ahead or another should come behind me. I had to get off this path!

Soon enough, I finally recognized, I would see one of the entrances into the deep, wide cavern that contained my home. It would gradually widen until the ceiling disappeared from view and wider areas of underground farming would reveal itself long before the lights of the City did.

Sentries were set that post, waiting. I would not likely get past them unquestioned; likely the cart and the lizard mounts would be there as well.

It would be a bad idea to risk it; I couldn't trust my own actions or words. I started watching for side tunnels or crawl spaces. I found a few; two were dens I wouldn't enter, another only led to a pit and a dead end, and a fourth turned into a crevasse far too tight to continue.

I began to think there was no way into the great cavern except through the sentries...but as I stared at the pool I'd found in a fifth passageway, I startled a small, white amphibian, which jumped into it and swam down to the bottom, not very deep.

The current I could see seemed to beckon me; the frog's shadow disappeared beneath the rock and my sensitive eyes could detect new current and movement caused not only by the animal's exit...but its entrance into a wider body of water. I had to be right; my instincts flared with recognition even through the lust. Now was it big enough for a Drow and short enough not to run out of air? Was it small enough to keep larger predators out?

I removed the cloak which would only risk an inconvenient snag underwater. The remaining Duergar bar probably wouldn't survive either, but it tasted like offal mixed with grease and ash anyway. The blade and the belt would come but I had to loop the belt across my chest, not around my waist. And the waterskin? I wanted something to refill, I wanted to keep it...but now I was entering the nation of Drow, and did I really want a Duergar possession on me? It would lead to questions and suspicion....

Perhaps I would find another, and in any case, I would be much closer to water from now on than I had been.

Damnit...that logic also said the belt had to go. Damn! Well...what better way to return than only that which I'd been left in the first place?

The cloak, belt, skin pouch, and food were smashed into as tiny of a crack as I could force them, using a stone to mash and wedge them in; removing them—if they were ever found by something walking on two legs—would be a chore.

I settled down into the pool slowly, tepid water creeping up to my middle, and my hand not holding my blade found the opening beneath water that I sought. I would fit, but it would be close. Backing out if the way closed to tightly for me to get through would be the only option if it came to it.

I think this is one of the phobias I knew about in another at Court: to get stuck in a water-filled underground tunnel and drown there, one's lifeless body floating, swelling with water, and rotting. A true possibility here, but not a phobia of mine, fortunate for me.

I waited for a while longer, even began stroking myself under water to climax at least once before taking this risk. Why wait? Well, I knew the frog had to breathe; I wanted to see if it would come back out. It wasn't a certainty for me that I could pass through even if it didn't return, but it was an indication there was air on the other side, or in the middle in a pocket nonetheless.

I clenched my teeth, kept quiet as water swirled around my frantic fingers, as I felt release sweep through me. It did not help any more than I'd expected, but it felt good, and anyway the frog had not reappeared by the time I caught my breath. It was time; I drew ever deeper breaths, filling my blood and my lungs with air before submerging.

Dark vision underwater does not work quite as well as normal; depth perception was the first thing torn asunder by the chaotic liquid, which also disrupted the energy of the rock shaping and containing it. There were no real shapes to see, unless it was big, solid, and close. I kept my eyes open for the instance of that sudden, detectable movement but used mostly my hands to feel and pull my way through the tunnel. Kicking my feet helped a little but not as much when my heel would knock against the wall or my knee would get scraped.

I thought that had been the most annoying part about it until I had to squeeze through a section so reduced that it scraped my nipples and the point of my House dagger was caught between rocks. For a paralyzing moment, I thought I would have to choose between leaving it here or drowning trying to get it loose. Fortunately it came loose a moment after the thought.

This was so much fun.

My lungs were burning by now but I kept my focus forward, starting to pump my legs despite the tight quarters. There was more light and energy ahead, I could see it even as my vision was darkening from lack of air. In any case, I had already gone too far to be able to back out so I either found an air pocket the frog had used or I found...

The other side.

My head broke the water at last and I sucked in the most painful breath I could remember. I made it! Immediately I looked around me. Had I been discovered? There had been no subtle, quiet way to come out from beneath the pool like that...

I saw deliberate construction forming the boundaries for this pool; it was a reservoir, a smaller version of the type I'd seen in the agriculture districts. No one stood on its banks at the moment.

Perfect. I was inside the great cavern and on the outskirts of the City and not yet seen by sentries or anyone else—except for the white frog, which sat like a skipping stone on the bank and again leaped into the water when I spied it. I smiled. Useful creatures, those frogs.

I crawled on my belly up the bank to see what was over it. As I expected, it was a fairly flat parcel of space, cultivating various mushrooms, softly glowing lichens, and the particular flora that supported Drow and other life. My eyes rather skimmed over the few bodies who worked the field—they were not Drow but slaves—then my heart seized a moment when I saw one of my own.

I felt no fear of discovery. The shock to my system was a throaty, primal demand; a call for indulgence, not avoidance. Oh, Lolth, I wanted him so badly. He was so beautiful, he certainly wasn't a soldier or warrior, and I didn't care to whom he belonged. My cunt began to ache right then and there on the muddy bank of the pool.

The Drow was dressed in simple, rough silk made of two pieces, one which covered his torse folded across his abdomen, cinched with a belt, and the other a wrap at his hips which fell to his knees. His calves were lovely and his feet elegantly wrapped in light-colored leather. He wore a few choice pieces of jewelry, nothing much, but I could see metal at one ear and a circlet around his throat, a band around one bare arm—even at this distance I could see them shine. As I traced my eyes back up, I noted fine hands and smooth, lean arms, long, white hair drawn back and plaited, and an attractive, refined face.

He was more than acceptable. I would have him, more than once. I would welcome the feeling of his sperm filling my snatch, then running down my legs, cleansing me of my last coupling...

I could barely wait until he'd gone back inside of one of the smaller, outer structures that likely housed supplies and a few animals. A grey haze seemed to cover my eyes as I lay poised and aching, raunchy images of all the various things I would do to that delicious body dominating my thoughts.

I moved in a full sprint as soon as the door to the small storage area was closed for three full seconds. At the very least, I could capture him coming out and force him back inside. Or, better yet, I could surprise him inside.

A few small, four-legged and furry chattel looked at me disinterestedly as I passed, and I had my hand on the latch almost before I knew it. I let myself inside and closed the door behind me, panting hard, my teeth showing in a very wide smile.

He heard me, of course, even though I'd not been an utter clove-footed oaf, and he spun around. His eyes widened in stark alarm, and I could imagine why. He saw a naked she-Drow, just that bit taller than he was and much stronger, covered in scrapes and cuts with a blade held in her hand, dripping wet and streaked with mud. Poised to leap at him...and smiling.

He didn't speak or ask me anything; he immediately dove for a farm tool he could use in his defense.

The farmer wanted to protect his virtue. How cute.

My long dagger blocked the sickle he'd drawn down from the wall and turned on me, and with a flick of my wrist, it flipped out of his hand. I snatched the wrist of that offending hand and gave it a twist, making him cry out. With another twist, he fell to his knees grimacing.

"Don't do this," he groaned.

"Quiet," I growled. "This'll be better if you don't fight."

"You don't understand—"

"Also better if you don't speak."

A pity, that. He had a lovely voice.

"Please!" he said, his expression frightened about something that might or might not have been me.

Maybe I cared a little bit about that distinction, but my cunt certainly didn't.

"Shut up." I flicked his ear to see him flinch. "Take down your hair."

When he hesitated, I reached to pull the band from the tail of his braid, running my fingers through silky hair as the plaiting began to unravel. He kept his one hand clamped to his thigh as I held his wrist, and with a growl I grabbed hold of his hair by the roots as well and gave it a jerk.

"Finish it. Take down your hair."

He winced and slowly reached up with one hand to rather clumsily comb out the rest of the braiding until his hair flowed freely down his back.

"Beautiful," I grinned, jerking his head back to tilt up his chin so I could take his mouth. He tasted clean and fragrant, erotic and sensual like a prized consort, but he did not respond in kind to the kiss.

It wouldn't matter here very soon.

I looked around the shack and didn't see much room or comfort among the tools and stables. I did see braided leather thongs that would be immensely useful. I freed his wrist and I took two of the coils to loop on one shoulder as I kept a tight hold on his hair. He cradled one hand in the other.

"Is there anyone back at the house?" I asked.

He stayed silent and pursed his lips, looking at me defiantly. I kept his gaze, and when it didn't waver, I kneeled to caress what I was most interested in through his silk, squeezing gently but not without unspoken threat. His eyes widened again and he looked nervous and fearful again.

I smiled. "Is that a no?"

"No," he said ambiguously, his mouth quirking in a bit of smugness.

I shrugged.

Still holding him by his hair, my grip renewed, I dragged him from the structure and toward the larger, main dwelling farther away from the reservoir. He tried once to break free and I rewarded his insolence with a sharp strike to his gut that left him on the ground and unable to breathe for a few moments.

I asked him again as I waited, "Is there anyone at the house?"

"No," he answered again, but this time it sounded like an answer.

He could be a very good liar, of course, but I had watched him and this place for a while, even if not under my most focused attention. This was one of the smallest and quietest outposts of agriculture I'd ever witnessed. Even if the darkness hadn't precluded seeing to the very end of the farm without carefully placed lights, I was willing to bet it was a fair distance to the next neighbor. The few slaves present were still out in the fields, still working and not intervening in Drow business, if they even saw us.

I was going on instinct on this one that he was the only Drow here. One Drow, even a male one, would be able to control the few other living beings here. It was not a big place.

That he was alone in this outpost likely meant he'd been assigned or banished here. He was fair game.

I continued dragging him once he could breathe again. He was just docile enough to keep my lust in check as we approached the home along the elaborately cobbled walkway that protected his pretty feet from the dirt.

I knew he hadn't fully given in yet, that he was biding his time. I would have been disappointed if he had. I needed to mate, and he would be delectable, I'd ride him into exhaustion...but I still wanted to enjoy the challenge of earning his total surrender. Having spirit was good, preferred against the alternative. Those that preferred the cold fish, in my opinion, were only uncertain of their own ability to dominate.

He tried again to reason with me after he'd obeyed my instruction to open the door for us. "I don't know who you are but I can tell you are no commoner, Lady. Believe me, there will be consequences—"

I laughed as I dragged him inside. "There always are."