The Apostate Ch. 05

Behind those two pillars was a depiction of Lolth as a half-arachnid, half-drow woman, her hands as talons and her jointed legs as sharp as sabers, all fit into a tall cylinder. The final set of pillars was a bloated black widow with a woman's face, hair flowing all over the bulbous thorax.

The carvings were a transition from grotesque to gorgeous as they grew closer to the throne, whereupon Matron Sabylene Mourlefey, a willowy matron mother young in comparison to her peers, sat with her legs crossed, lips curled into a smile, and hands folded demurely at her lap.

"What is this prize you have brought to me, my daughter?" Sabylene asked, smirking her soft lips at the strong priestess standing next to Lidia and her other sister, the one who had clasped the adamantite collar on the specimen.

"Our force within the dragon's lair was slaughtered by this one's companion. Our sister slew the dragon-woman with her dying breath with the dragonstone you had crafted. Felyn and I collared this one to serve you as a weapon, while the other two are for...whatever you deem worthy," the daughter said with a sly smile.

"It has been a long time since I have tasted elven nectar, Halafae," Matron Mourlefey said. "I am eager to do so again. The red-skinned girl can be given to House Torviir as a gift. It would do us well to curry more favor with Matron Torviir."

"For what purpose?" Felyn asked. Her strong body was glistening slightly; Matron Mourlefey liked to keep her throne room warm and humid to encourage less clothing.

"Matron Torviir means to elevate herself beyond what she deserves," Matron Mourlefey said. "As such, I believe it in our best interest to maintain a close relationship with her House of Harlots so that when her House falls, we may be there to push them along."

Her grin was villainous, and it infected her two daughters. She regarded them in their own measure. Halafae was a beautiful specimen, with large, full breasts for their race, strong hips, a wide abdomen with hard muscle, and a face that made many squirm. Her father had been a warrior, a male that quite possibly had been bred out-of-race to make him more powerful. Either way, she remembered the cock and the way he plowed her like a common street-whore whenever she needed seeding, and smiled.

Felyn was a different matter. Her father had been full drow without question, and her body reflected that. She was lean and sleek, but that belied the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts, cunningly hidden by the way she wore her armor and clothing. She could not match Halafae's proportions, but her charms had wooed many a priestess during her tenure at the academy. Her father was a cunning lover, and while he could not stand against Halafae's father in proportions, the things he could do with his tongue had her quim melting even now.

A shame they had both been sacrificed shortly after seeding her. She would have liked to enjoy them both, together, but the blood had to be given so that their seed could take hold. The ritual had been the height of her arousal, and these two daughters were her pride and joy, filled with ambition, power, and a burning desire to please their mother in any way she asked.

"You have both done well. You may go and take pleasure as you see fit with my full authority. Leave the elf for me and take the half-dragon to the slave-pens. Let her dwell with them until a need for her arises."

Both daughters bowed and said, "Yes, Mother," simultaneously, leaving the elf woman with wide, fearful eyes.

"And find Lirafey. She can take this other woman to Matron Torviir," she added as Cyra locked eyes with her lover, tears rimming her eyes.

*****

Lirafey had laid low since departing Lura and Hammer and losing Myrynda. She and Shandra had been laying up in, of all places, the Spidermask, Shandra's former employer and Lira's former haunt. The proprietor recognized them and smiled, his fat face—so unusual for a drow—dimpling all over as he clapped, grinning.

"My two favorite mistresses!" the drow said quietly, but in exuberant tones. He knew well the value of discretion, and there were always those around who would be willing to sell information on the predilections of a House princess and her consort.

Lirafey kept Shandra behind her, but the voluptuous sorceress had eyes for the entire dancing club. There were scantily clad men and women twirling around onyx poles, performing for the patrons in ways that even she found risqué.

"We need to lay low for a few days," Lirafey said quietly to the man. She jingled a purse of coins at waist level, and he grinned, taking the purse and weighing it.

"Lodging and food for three days and three nights," the man said, satisfied with the heft. "Entertainment will be extra, of course."

"We won't be purchasing entertainment this time," Lirafey said sternly.

"Ah, well, it'd be a boring life if I wasn't surprised once a day at least," the male said, shrugging. He proffered a key. "Room twelve, your usual. It is fully stocked, but if you're not purchasing entertainment, I'll wager I'm not losing much this time around."

Lirafey said nothing, took the key, and led Shandra through the establishment, both of them making an effort to not be recognized.

But Shandra couldn't help watching some of the new acts as they passed the stages. When last she worked the Spidermask, they were limited to strictly solo acts, using their bodies to entice companionship rather than outright displays of skill. Yet here, before her, was a woman masturbating for an audience of males and females, not all of them even drow. Something was plugging her asshole, and her breasts were wobbling as she bounced up and down on her own hand before spraying her audience with what appeared to be her orgasm.

Shandra knew better. She could sense the illusion in this performer's act and knew that the mist was little more than sugar water conjured straight from her cunt. This act was mild compared to some of the other displays. Outright sex shows, one of which was a female having a time with half a dozen male cocks, all taking turns with each of her holes, while patrons threw coins at her sticky flesh. It was, to Shandra, degrading and debasing to the art she used to practice here.

Moreover, it was enticing to Shandra. She respected the art of mask dancing and would love to take up the façade again, but even more than that, she felt a needful desire to sell herself. She had no need for coin—much of that would go to Lirafey—but the true payment would be the arousal she got from being sold in such a way, and having Lirafey holding her leash.

But that was a whim for another day. From what she could tell of the situation, they were in no place to discuss the prospect of whoring, and needed to focus on the matter at hand.

Lirafey led her to their usual room—the one that she had often taken Shandra to after a particularly raunchy show or seductive dance to exorcise her lusts on the agile sorceress. The room smelled of incense, the bed was made in the finest silks, and ornate décor was the norm, though it was scattered strategically throughout the room to give the illusion of high class. There were no true high class establishments in this part of Menzoberranzan, not so close to the Bazaar.

"I don't suppose now is the time for our usual mid-catastrophe tryst," Shandra said flatly. If her read of Lirafey's posture was right, the priestess was in no mood for fucking. And she was right, judging by the leveled glare she received.

"If word gets back to Matron Mother that, not only did we let the Torviir slut escape, but traded her sister in to the Order of Apostates, then we are as good as flayed alive."

"We don't know that the Torviir girl knows what we did with Luriia," Shandra reasoned.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" Lirafey asked, her voice gaining volume. "I am not."

"Then what avenue would you take?" Shandra asked. "We can't simply hide from House Mourlefey forever."

"We have to find a way to exonerate ourselves."

"How in the Nine Hells are we to do that?" Shandra asked, folding her arms under her breasts. She glared at Lirafey.

"We aren't," Lirafey said. "I will. I would send you away that you might not share my fate."

Shandra tapped the choker around her neck. "You die, I die. Remember?"

Then the Mourlefey daughter surprised her battle-captive. She marched right up to the sorceress and spoke softly. One hand on the sorceress's cheek, the other on the collar, she disengaged the device and dispelled the battle-captive magic.

"Mistress," Shandra said, but Lirafey silenced her with a kiss.

"You have proven yourself loyal to me, with no measure of deception in your heart. I almost can't believe it; you're drow, after all. But I do. Perhaps we spent too much time amidst Luriia Torviir and her blasphemies have poisoned our hearts, but so be it. You are free, Shandra."

"Free I may be," the sorceress said slowly, but firmly. "But you are my mistress, collar or not. I find pleasure in serving you, and you bring me pleasure and experience I'd find nowhere else. I am with you, Lirafey Mourlefey."

"Even into the World Above?" Lirafey asked hesitantly.

"Even so."

"We have to find Luriia Torviir." The priestess withdrew her holy symbol of Lolth from her cleavage, giving it a wistful, longing look before sighing. She dropped it to the floor. "Damn you, Luriia Torviir.

*****

Iliara stood very still as Matron Mother Mourlefey dismissed her attendants and daughters. She was motionless as the drow woman, slightly shorter than the assassin, started walking very slowly forward.

"My name is Sabylene," the matron mother said. "You surface faeries exchange pleasantries—names and so forth—before mating, correct?"

The elf didn't respond, her voice caught in her throat. The matron mother was speaking Common with a halting, sharp accent. And the drow sighed at Iliara's silence. "Elf, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have by now. I seek only pleasure. One of my...rivals always brags about her exotic lovers. She would burn with envy if she knew I had a pet elf I was able to rut with."

"I am no pet," Iliara said softly. "I am Iliara, and I have come to worse arrangements than that serving Shar."

"Ah, she speaks," the drow said, grinning. She stood before the elf, hands on her shapely hips. "Shar, you say? I've little concern for the Mistress of Night."

"No, only Lolth," Iliara retorted.

"As you say," she said nonchalantly. "Ours is a relationship of convenience, and she has thus far not punished me for my lackadaisical devotion."

Iliara arched a fine, golden brow at the drow.

"Tell me," the drow said. "Do you find drow women beautiful?" She spun around, undulating her body to display her breasts, hips, slender abdomen, shapely thighs, and long, agile fingers, as well as her silky, gold-tinged white hair.

"I have loved a drow woman," Iliara said. "And she was the most beautiful elf I have ever known. Moreso than you."

"And her name?" the matron asked, clearly turning to jealousy at the declaration. "My beauty pales only in comparison to Matron Torviir's decadence, which apparently is a finer wine to her suitors than my beauty."

"Her name was Lura. She was a servant of Sune," she replied hesitantly.

"Ah, I see," the matron mother said. "Well, in any case...do you, an elf of the World Above, find the likes of me beautiful?"

"I will not play into your vanity," Iliara snapped, her muscles tensing.

Sabylene merely laughed. "My dear, my vanity is healthy and needs no stroking from the likes of you. The opinion of a pale-skinned elf is irrelevant to me, save for the purpose of getting you into my bed."

Iliara said nothing.

"You're a fiery one, that's for certain. Lithe, athletic, supple..." she reached out and stroked the elf's arm, the bicep hard beneath flesh, with just the shadow of a vein popping out along its length. "Is this typical of your kind?"

"No," Iliara said. "I am borne of fury, betrayal, and murder. Most of my kin were borne amidst song and sprites, fey creatures and natural beauty."

"Then you are as a drow," Sabylene chided. Iliara did not react. "Tell me now, and tell me honestly," she doffed her thin robe, letting her rounded, perky breasts free, baring her glistening black flesh, "would you fuck me?"

"In a heartbeat," Iliara confessed.

The drow attacked. She wrapped her legs around Iliara, holding her face in her hands as she kissed, biting down hard on the elf's lower lip such that her skin broke slightly. Sabylene tasted blood and it sent her into a frenzy of lust.

*****

Myrynda's lithe body wove through the crowds of the Bazaar until she found the appropriate network of alleys. She made certain she was not seen by anybody of note, nor that she was being followed, and pulled the heavy, plain cowl over her delicate-looking face. It would not do to have her identity discerned before the appropriate time.

The alleys were as filthy as she remembered, and despite her great care, the soft hide boots she wore were stained with offal when finally she arrived at the portal that would take her to the extradimensional realm that she hoped her sister was living in. It had been long tendays since she had first sent her urgent message to her sister, and she had awaited this reunion for even longer than that. Her façade was soon to crumble around her, she believed.

Lolth was on to her.

Myrynda had worshipped Sune for a long time, though not immediately after her sister's departure had she come to realize that. She prayed in secret, offered her love to the goddess in silence, and, when she pleasured herself, she devoted every second of bliss to the goddess.

"Torviir," came a whispered voice. Myrynda stopped dead in her tracks, frozen with fear. Nobody should know her name. Nobody should even know she was here.

But a face she recognized from her matron mother's many revelries came out of the shadows ahead of her, trailed by another drow, this one thick in all the right places, slim elsewhere.

"Mourlefey," she gasped, reaching for a weapon that wasn't on her person. She cursed herself for not getting a weapon before she left, then began preparing a spell.

But the Mourlefey woman was faster. She lunged forward, hand over Myr's mouth to interrupt her spell. "I am friend," she snapped through her teeth. "We are looking for your sister. I am Lirafey. This is my companion, Shandra."

They released her, and she licked her lips as she eyed them suspiciously. "How am I to trust you," she said in a low voice. "You must understand how preposterous this seems to me."

"We know," Lirafey said. "But we travelled with her for many days. She is being hunted, and I intend to see that she returns to the surface safely.