Warning: This is a very dark story containing many disturbing themes such as noncon, humiliation, degradation, corruption, sexual slavery, misogyny, sadomasochism and more. Do not read this story unless you are okay with extreme content relating to the listed themes.
I do not condone or endorse any of the activities described in this story. Sexual fantasies can be a fun and safe way to explore fetishes but always treat real people with respect. Fantasize responsibly. ^^
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After the daughters of shadow finished their ritual, Dread made his way to the central atrium of the Damned Citadel. In his father's day, the citadel had been full of nobles, servants, and tradeworkers. Dread did things differently.
He transformed his home into a hive of scum and villainy. After King Anthony betrayed his father, Dread broke the treaty of extradition and offered any outlaw or fugitive from the Golden Lands sanctuary in his home. No crime was too grave to be forgiven, as long as it'd been carried out against the Golden Lands. There were no laws in the Dark Lands beyond respecting Dread's authority. Now secret societies, gangs, killers, monsters, and magnificent bastards occupied the black marble halls of his home, and they all called him king.
His father, King Darkhand, had been idealistic. Father wanted better for the Dark Lands and for his people, so he foolishly formed a truce with King Anthony. Even though he'd been just a boy, Dread remembered trusting Anthony. The betrayer king had been convincing. Thoughts of the past filled Dread with only regret so he cleansed them from his mind.
Goren, a vice criminal, and the leader of the Knife Nick gang, approached Dread smelling like tobacco and distilled spirits. "King Boss," he said, bowing low. "I heard ya goin' to meet the golden fucks. Hows about I send a couple dozen of me best and most slippery knives with ya?" The scoundrel grinned, missing teeth, and Dread smiled back.
"I'll be just fine with my pets."
"Of course boss," Goren said. "Well, just know all of us are behind ya." The unwashed, unshaven mass of criminals and scum raised a cheer. Dread acknowledged them with a nod.
He turned and made his way to the courtyard where nothing green grew. The hard, cracked dirt and dark skies overhead weren't suited for relaxation or appreciation. He went to the courtyard because it had ample space for a portal. Dread channeled dark magic into his hands, palms clasped together, and then drew them apart, opening a rip in space. On one side was the dark, glum atmosphere of his Citadel, and on the other awaited the windy, flat plains of the Wild Lands. He turned to Elaxia and found nervousness on her beautiful face. Her eyebrows were slightly drawn, and she softly bit her bottom lip which had been painted orange.
"Don't worry, pet," he said. He smoothed the now purple locks of her bangs. "The daughter's ritual gave me a cloak of shadow magic that will absorb any blow. I don't plan on dying before exacting my revenge."
Elaxia wiped her features clear and smiled. "Of course, master."
Dread knew her well enough to see she was putting on a brave face.
"If they try anything," Viyana hissed. "I'll slice them to pieces."
Elaxia laughed at Viyana. "Of course you will."
Dread stepped through the portal. He waited for his pets to follow before closing the magical hole in space behind them. The portal winked out of existence.
They stood on grassy, windswept plains, flat as a table in every direction. In front of them was a massive collection of tents, so densely packed they made a good imitation of a city. They had arrived at the roving capital of Wreven, the Barbarian King.
A large, muscle-strapped wild man wearing only a loin cloth approached them and grunted. "Come, chief see you."
Dread followed the wild man through tight rows of fabric canopies and his jaw tightened. King Anthony occupied one of these tents, somewhere. The man he hated more than any other. Dread's loathing of the golden king kept him up nights and propelled him towards forming pacts with dark gods.
Long ago, Dread decided a simple death was too good for the man. No, he needed to destroy everything Anthony cared about. Take everything he cherished and break it all in front of the betrayer's eyes. Viyana had offered to assassinate Anthony more than once but that option gave Dread no satisfaction. His hatred ran so very deep and required much more than a simple death to salve.
The wild man led Dread to the biggest tent within eyeshot. Its pointed canopy stretched many paces higher than any other and the interior rivaled the size of the atrium in his Damned Citadel. Dread brushed aside flaps made from the fur of some hunted beast and stepped into the warm, expansive tent.
Wreven lounged on a gigantic pile of pillows, drinking something from a mug in great chugging bursts, pausing only to burp and pound his barrel-wide chest. When his eyes fixed on Dread, he shot up with surprising grace and strode forward with a warm smile. He offered a shield-sized hand and squeezed Dread's fingers until they creaked. Dread made no show of pain even as his brain registered that his fingers hurt. Dread had long ago schooled his reactions into obedience.
