The Pleasure and... the Pain

The air wavered and resounded with a noise that resembled nothing less than a two-second tornado. A dark figure with a body draped over one shoulder stepped out of a blue oval gate that had just appeared in the small dimly lit room. Drax’l’s violet-red eyes searched the shadows cautiously while he waited for the shimmering portal to vanish. There was no one else present. Nor were there any doors or windows in evidence. The reason for the latter was that this particular room was underground, constructed in secret by Drow mages, beneath the dark tower used by House Maerdyn. It was known only to a few, and accessible only by magical means.

The area was sparsely but efficiently furnished. A magelight glowed and pulsed softly in each corner of the room. Separate sets of chains connecting neck collars, wrist cuffs, and leg irons hung on two adjoining walls. Whips, knives, and other various implements of nefarious design were arrayed on two tables flanking a small forge a few feet away from a third wall, and a bookcase was placed against the remaining wall along with a larger table that held glass vials, test tubes, beakers and flasks. Drax’l shifted Moira’s body slightly on his shoulder and then carried his unconscious burden to the last of the furnishings: a large bloodstained altar that resided in the exact center of the room.

The stone edifice was eight feet long, four feet wide, and nearly waist high. Its top was carved with web designs, and spiders of varying sizes crawled around all four sides in base relief. On the ceiling directly above the altar was a painting of another spidery form. It depicted a strikingly beautiful drow maiden, arms thrust out in a beckoning manner, her lower torso blending into the black bloated form of a huge poisonous arachnid. This was Lolth, Demon Queen of Spiders and goddess of the Drow; dreaded enemy to the elves above, unholy savior to those below. It was a compelling piece of work, unnervingly lifelike in its perfection. Her haunting red eyes seemed to follow you wherever you moved in the room and looked into your very soul.

With a force of will, Drax’l tore his eyes from the ceiling with a shudder. After he had placed Moira upon the slab, Drax’l shackled her arms and legs to each of the four corners of the altar. He made sure the cunningly wrought blood-grooves that were a part of the intricate web pattern, were clear, and that the blood receptical, a golden bowl with similar arachnidian designs, was in place. Satisfied with this, he stoked the forge with the bellows and walked to one side of the room to await his two sister’s arrival.

A few minutes later, the glow from a set of runes on the floor could be seen near the wall behind the forge. The veldriss Makhila appeared and stepped off of a runic teleport pad. She was followed shortly afterwards by Vaerlyr’ra. The priestess spoke a word and the runes winked out. She then slipped a small crystal pendant between her breasts, hiding it from view. Makhila glanced at the body on the slab and grinned, turning to Drax’l.

“Ves bwael Drax’l, Usstan see that dos have made our “guest” comfortable.”

“Xas, as dos ordered Veldriss.” he replied with a polite bow of respect.

Vaerlyr’ra, meanwhile, had walked to the two tables upon which rested the tools of persuasion, running a hand over them affectionately and picking up one or two and examining them. She glanced to Moira’s form on the altar occasionally, deciding how best to honor their guest with her skills.

Makhila stepped towards Drax’l and lifted his chin with the tip of her forefinger, “Dos will stand guard here for now and make sure udos are naut disturbed… even though it is unlikely, xas?”

“Xas veldriss, as dos wish.” He lowered his eyes, letting them settle on Vaerlyr’ra across the room.

Makhila patted his cheek with a smile and glided across the floor to the altar. She stood there a few moments, turning Moira’s head back and forth, checking her condition. She reached to her belt and pulled forth a wickedly curved obsidian dagger, the hilt and crosspiece in the shape of a spider and a flawless star ruby set in the pommel. Pulling Moira’s dress up taut at her bosom, Makhila began to slowly slice the material carefully down over her belly until she severed the hem near her feet. She sliced the sleeves with a practiced ease and then pulled the ruined garment out from under her and tossed it aside, leaving Moira naked and vulnerable to any whim they may now wish to enact.

Drax’l’s eyes danced back and forth between two drowesses and the nude form of the darthiiri on the altar, his excitement building as his mind anticipated the screams and cries of pleasure and pain that would soon follow.

Makhila walked to the table that held the alchemical equipment, searching among them. At last she spied the one she wanted, a small bottle half full of an orangish liquid. She unstoppered it and moved back to stand beside Moira at the altar. The veldriss lifted the elf maiden’s head and forced her mouth open, pouring the contents slowly down Moira’s throat. Setting the empty vial aside, Makhila slapped Moira’s cheeks lightly. “Come my pet…” she cooed soothingly, “Awaken.. it’s time for the fun and games to begin..” Makhila stepped away from the altar and stood conferring with Vaerlyr’ra in hushed tones while their captive recovered her senses.

Moira’s green eyes fluttered open, attempting to adjust to the dimness afforded by the magelights. Her mind was still fuzzy; she tried to reach to move a stray lock of hair and discovered her arms and legs were bound. Moira started to panic and pulled against the shackles as she writhed against the cold stone, her chest heaving with the effort. She blinked and gazed down at herself, realizing for the first time that she was naked. She squeezed her eyes shut, “This must be a dream!” her mind screamed. Moira opened her eyes again, this time she saw the lifelike representation of Lolth on the ceiling. It seemed to smile at her and Moira’s lips parted to scream. It was cut short however, as two familiar figures loomed into sight over her, obscuring the hideous visage temporarily. It was the same two drowesses from the Silver Arrow that were her last memory before awakening here. Moira’s eyes widened in fear, she licked her lips and tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry and she found she had no words.

“Vendui’ again.” Vaerlyr’ra spoke with a false kindness, “Usstan hope dos had a nice nap?”

“Wh..who.. are you?… What do you want with me??” Moira managed to stammer.

Vaerlyr’ra gazed into Moira’s eyes, a wry smile on her lips, and caressed her cheek with the back of her fingers, then let them trail between her breasts, resting her palm flat against her belly. “Udos only wish to ask dos some questions… simple really… answer them truthfully and dos zhal be.. released.”

Moira tried to shrink away from the drowess’ touch but could not. She struggled vainly, feeling a faint trickle of blood on her wrists and ankles, then frowned up at the two female drow. “Questions…about what?… Why me? What… what could I possibly know that would interest you?” she asked.

“Oh my dear..” Vaerlyr’ra chuckled, “usstan think dos know a great deal more than dos realize..”

Vaerlyr’ra turned and moved to one of the two tables near the forge and selected a small, black leather whip with a phallic-looking handle and several barbed tails. She returned to Moira’s side, slapping the handle in her palm, watching the elf’s emerald eyes widen as she gazed at the cruelly fashioned whip.

“Now… let us begin, shall we?”

A piercing scream echoed through the room.

Outside, the sun rose and fell, then rose again. Birds chirped gaily and squirrels chattered as they chased one another or scolded a passer-by. Even in the dark tower itself, no one would have been aware of the macabre scene of unimaginable debauchery that was taking place below.

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> The air wavered and resounded with a noise that resembled nothing less than a two-second tornado. A dark figure with a body draped over one shoulder stepped out of a blue oval gate that had just appeared in the small dimly lit room. Drax’l’s violet-red eyes searched the shadows cautiously while he waited for the shimmering portal to vanish. There was no one else present. Nor were there any doors or windows in evidence. The reason for the latter was that this particular room was underground, constructed in secret by Drow mages, beneath the dark tower used by House Maerdyn. It was known only to a few, and accessible only by magical means. > The area was sparsely but efficiently furnished. A magelight glowed and pulsed softly in each corner of the room. Separate sets of chains connecting neck collars, wrist cuffs, and leg irons hung on two adjoining walls. Whips, knives, and other various implements of nefarious design were arrayed on two tables flanking a small forge a few feet away from a third wall, and a bookcase was placed against the remaining wall along with a larger table that held glass vials, test tubes, beakers and flasks. Drax’l shifted Moira’s body slightly on his shoulder and then carried his unconscious burden to the last of the furnishings: a large bloodstained altar that resided in the exact center of the room. > The stone edifice was eight feet long, four feet wide, and nearly waist high. Its top was carved with web designs, and spiders of varying sizes crawled around all four sides in base relief. On the ceiling directly above the altar was a painting of another spidery form. It depicted a strikingly beautiful drow maiden, arms thrust out in a beckoning manner, her lower torso blending into the black bloated form of a huge poisonous arachnid. This was Lolth, Demon Queen of Spiders and goddess of the Drow; dreaded enemy to the elves above, unholy savior to those below. It was a compelling piece of work, unnervingly lifelike in its perfection. Her haunting red eyes seemed to follow you wherever you moved in the room and looked into your very soul. > With a force of will, Drax’l tore his eyes from the ceiling with a shudder. After he had placed Moira upon the slab, Drax’l shackled her arms and legs to each of the four corners of the altar. He made sure the cunningly wrought blood-grooves that were a part of the intricate web pattern, were clear, and that the blood receptical, a golden bowl with similar arachnidian designs, was in place. Satisfied with this, he stoked the forge with the bellows and walked to one side of the room to await his two sister’s arrival. > A few minutes later, the glow from a set of runes on the floor could be seen near the wall behind the forge. The veldriss Makhila appeared and stepped off of a runic teleport pad. She was followed shortly afterwards by Vaerlyr’ra. The priestess spoke a word and the runes winked out. She then slipped a small crystal pendant between her breasts, hiding it from view. Makhila glanced at the body on the slab and grinned, turning to Drax’l. > “Ves bwael Drax’l, Usstan see that dos have made our “guest” comfortable.” > “Xas, as dos ordered Veldriss.” he replied with a polite bow of respect. > Vaerlyr’ra, meanwhile, had walked to the two tables upon which rested the tools of persuasion, running a hand over them affectionately and picking up one or two and examining them. She glanced to Moira’s form on the altar occasionally, deciding how best to honor their guest with her skills. > Makhila stepped towards Drax’l and lifted his chin with the tip of her forefinger, “Dos will stand guard here for now and make sure udos are naut disturbed… even though it is unlikely, xas?” > “Xas veldriss, as dos wish.” He lowered his eyes, letting them settle on Vaerlyr’ra across the room. > Makhila patted his cheek with a smile and glided across the floor to the altar. She stood there a few moments, turning Moira’s head back and forth, checking her condition. She reached to her belt and pulled forth a wickedly curved obsidian dagger, the hilt and crosspiece in the shape of a spider and a flawless star ruby set in the pommel. Pulling Moira’s dress up taut at her bosom, Makhila began to slowly slice the material carefully down over her belly until she severed the hem near her feet. She sliced the sleeves with a practiced ease and then pulled the ruined garment out from under her and tossed it aside, leaving Moira naked and vulnerable to any whim they may now wish to enact. > Drax’l’s eyes danced back and forth between two drowesses and the nude form of the darthiiri on the altar, his excitement building as his mind anticipated the screams and cries of pleasure and pain that would soon follow. > Makhila walked to the table that held the alchemical equipment, searching among them. At last she spied the one she wanted, a small bottle half full of an orangish liquid. She unstoppered it and moved back to stand beside Moira at the altar. The veldriss lifted the elf maiden’s head and forced her mouth open, pouring the contents slowly down Moira’s throat. Setting the empty vial aside, Makhila slapped Moira’s cheeks lightly. “Come my pet…” she cooed soothingly, “Awaken.. it’s time for the fun and games to begin..” Makhila stepped away from the altar and stood conferring with Vaerlyr’ra in hushed tones while their captive recovered her senses. > Moira’s green eyes fluttered open, attempting to adjust to the dimness afforded by the magelights. Her mind was still fuzzy; she tried to reach to move a stray lock of hair and discovered her arms and legs were bound. Moira started to panic and pulled against the shackles as she writhed against the cold stone, her chest heaving with the effort. She blinked and gazed down at herself, realizing for the first time that she was naked. She squeezed her eyes shut, “This must be a dream!” her mind screamed. Moira opened her eyes again, this time she saw the lifelike representation of Lolth on the ceiling. It seemed to smile at her and Moira’s lips parted to scream. It was cut short however, as two familiar figures loomed into sight over her, obscuring the hideous visage temporarily. It was the same two drowesses from the Silver Arrow that were her last memory before awakening here. Moira’s eyes widened in fear, she licked her lips and tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry and she found she had no words. > “Vendui’ again.” Vaerlyr’ra spoke with a false kindness, “Usstan hope dos had a nice nap?” > “Wh..who.. are you?… What do you want with me??” Moira managed to stammer. > Vaerlyr’ra gazed into Moira’s eyes, a wry smile on her lips, and caressed her cheek with the back of her fingers, then let them trail between her breasts, resting her palm flat against her belly. “Udos only wish to ask dos some questions… simple really… answer them truthfully and dos zhal be.. released.” > Moira tried to shrink away from the drowess’ touch but could not. She struggled vainly, feeling a faint trickle of blood on her wrists and ankles, then frowned up at the two female drow. “Questions…about what?… Why me? What… what could I possibly know that would interest you?” she asked. > “Oh my dear..” Vaerlyr’ra chuckled, “usstan think dos know a great deal more than dos realize..” > Vaerlyr’ra turned and moved to one of the two tables near the forge and selected a small, black leather whip with a phallic-looking handle and several barbed tails. She returned to Moira’s side, slapping the handle in her palm, watching the elf’s emerald eyes widen as she gazed at the cruelly fashioned whip. > “Now… let us begin, shall we?” > A piercing scream echoed through the room. > Outside, the sun rose and fell, then rose again. Birds chirped gaily and squirrels chattered as they chased one another or scolded a passer-by. Even in the dark tower itself, no one would have been aware of the macabre scene of unimaginable debauchery that was taking place below.
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