"No. But I'm a fun leader." Thurlith said.
Mu'tasin took a draft of a haste potion, so that he'd have a chance to catch up. And Thurlith walked over to where the slaves and a handful of drow were cowering behind Larel. He stopped five feet from the group.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Thurlith Allman. I am here to claim this keep for myself. I will rebuild it. I will claim the surrounding lands and I will rule them. All within these halls and these lands will be loyal to me. If you are not willing to be loyal to me, then you may leave, into the underdark, or on the surface. I don't care." No one moved. "If you are loyal to me, then you will give me your lives and your obedience. Say what you want. Think what you want. But obey me." There was more silence. "Step forward and swear, or leave." One by one the slaves, then the drow and finally Larel came forward and placed their hands between his and swore.
"There are a few others in the back rooms, please follow me." Larel said.
The whores were back there. A surprisingly clean orc, a (somehow) surprisingly dirty pair of orcs, a goblin, a drow male and, shockingly, a drow female. Fillra Baenre, as she was introduced to him, by the reticent Larel. Completely nude and hairless. She lacked even eyebrows. Her eyes were black within black, her slim frame lacked either the muscle or the voluptuous softness he expected. She repeated the words as if they held no meaning and flitted around the room, one moment pressing her nakedness against him, the next reclining on a pile of cushions.
"What's wrong with her?" He asked as Larel led him out.
"You want her?" She asked, jealously.
"Not right now, but perhaps later. Right now, I want to know what's wrong with her." He said, stepping forward so he was pressed against her. His hands ran up her back and undid the buckle that held her strap in place. Her breasts, freed from their confinement swelled against him. His hands ran over her well muscled, elvish torso. Hers reached for him and he ducked under them, slipping between two of her legs so he stood behind her, almost astride her. His knowledge of drider physiology was rudimentary, but probably sufficient. "Answer my question."
She tried to turn, but a hand caught the joint of her first leg, as the other stroked over her carapace, finding smooth, armored perfection. "Underneath..." She whispered.
"That's not an answer to my question." Thurlith noted, his hands stilled themselves.
"Fillra Baenre...when Lolth was silent, House Baenre tried many ways to communicate with the silent goddess..." she had been speaking quickly, to induce action. She succeeded and he took the hint, exploring her underside. But as his hand found a soft depression that fingers could penetrate easily, her words turned into a low moan, empty of words but with a deep meaning. He considered the distance of the hole from her nimble hands, the sharpness of her spider feet and her shock at the very notion of his interest in her...had no one every penetrated her before? Not even her own exploring fingers? Nature had cursed her by placing her hole outside her own reach—no, not nature, whomever had cursed her into the form of a drider. He froze as well, partially from surprise, partially because she'd stopped speaking.
She continued as his hand rose from her leg, up to her human hip, then up further to the absurd swell of breasts that more befitted a whore than a warrior. "The House wanted to show how willing they were....they summoned up a Balor, and offered one of their own in trade, a promising young priestess, they said—lying whores—She was a daughter of the house, but Lolth had never answered her." The hole he explored was warm and wet, but no lubricant came off on his fingers, oddly enough. Her shudders and her hole's shudders left him in no doubt that she enjoyed his attention. The nipple hardened under his expert ministrations and he permitted himself to smile as he worked her powerful body towards a frenzy, pausing each time she did, forcing the tale from the mighty warrior. "The daughter of a lesser house might have been cast out...made drider—"
He pressed down hard on a nerve cluster he'd found, distracting her from that.
She was panting now, as if she'd just fought the hardest battle of her life. "The Balor took her, right there on the floor. Took her with him when he left too, laughing at the Baenre bitches and their impotence! I hear it was quite a show! Can you imagine? Those noble bitches watching one of their own, raped by a demon, all for nothing? I bet that was the worst part for them, getting played by a demon, almost like they'd been RAPED TOO!" The last words were a shriek as the thought of the noble drow women beaten and taken drove her over the edge. Thurlith's hands had something to do with it to. She staggered as if drunk, her eight legs swaying absurdly and she fell to the ground, bringing herself to a convenient height...
Thurlith walked around her and grabbed her by her short white hair, lifting a head that drooped to her chest. "Then how came she here?"
"When Lolth spoke again, the Balor had to return her, or face the goddesses wrath. He did, but not to Baenre, gave her to another city...thought it funny, maybe cause chaos later, but she was useless after what had been done. Sold as a whore. 's all she's good for now..."
Her eyes opened again as she heard Thurlith's belt hit the ground. He opened his robes, revealing an almost painfully hard cock. Larel tried to rise, but a soft hand on her shoulder kept her in place. "I will fuck you when I choose. For now, I will sample your mouth." Her eyes looked up at him, with fire in them, drow women did not pleasure men...at all, but especially not in such a fashion. They took, they did not give. And Larel, for all her current state, had been born and raised a drow. "Oh...I will not fuck you until your skills in this arena prove...acceptable. After all, you do not give a trainee a sword if he's still tripping over his spear."
"You know I have fangs..." She whispered throatily.
"Adds spice." He replied, stepping forward, cock bobbing in the air in front of her.
It was just out of reach and he waited. They might have stayed like that, except for a sound of motion from Fillra's cubby. He glanced up and Larel pushed herself forward, pressing her lips against it, as if she was kissing his hand at some formal event.
He laughed. She glared up at him, deeply offended. "Drow never know how to suck cock."
Lips parted, though whether to berate him, or thank him for thinking of her as drow, he didn't know, because he took the opportunity to thrust easily into her mouth. A hand rested on the soft hair of her head. "Think of it like another cunt. Sometimes I'll want to take what I want." Both hands caught her head, one on either side and he pistoned in and out of her mouth, hands guiding her head to move against him as if she was bobbing against his cock, trying to savor every inch as it pillaged her mouth, defeated her defenses and entered her throat. Her mouth hung open, her tongue flat against the bottom, as his cock slid between fangs dripping with paralytic venom.
She gagged and choked as she tried to breathe. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and his, through the palms of his hand, but that was all she could hear. Finally he thrust deep and stayed there, cock blocking her windpipe. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Her hands rose and his fell from her head. She stayed in place, holding herself against his trim stomach. As he began to swim in front of her eyes, he pulled back, so just the tip of his cock was in her mouth. She could taste a fluid there, it was...pleasant.
"Other times, I'll want you to show me how much you want me." He said, lifting his hands and resting them behind his head, standing there, for all the world as if he had neither cares, nor a beautiful drider kneeling before him.
She responded instantly, driving herself exactly as deep, and holding herself there. There was only his cock and those emerald eyes, she slurped on his cock, tongue moving, even daring to touch it with her teeth and fangs, making it clear she could have hurt him, could have forced him back, but didn't, she gave him her mouth, her air, her life.
As the world began to fade and she came close to passing out, he withdrew, his face contorted in pleasure as he came, one shot in her mouth, the second and third on her face as he withdrew, the last across her mammoth tits as his cock bounced, freed from her hungry lips.
The white lines lay across black skin, almost like tattoos, or brands, marking her as his. Black fingers rose to touch the burning lines. The flavor of him filled her mouth. It was an odd flavor, made good by her desire for him, for someone who would give her the pleasure drow—other drow?—had all their life, from slaves if not from other drow. But not a drider, not since she'd become a drider. The lines burned in her mouth and on her skin, warming her skin against the cool air of the cellar.
Thurlith staggered back to the wall, almost as insensible as Larel had been after her orgasm. His voice was as controlled as ever, however. "Good."
"Good enough?" She asked.
"Yes. Clean yourself up, showing proper reverence for my seed and get your people organized. I want lists of skills, equipment they have, equipment they need and everything else you deem relevant when I get back from concluding my business with the devils upstairs."
"Be careful."
"Always."
Thurlith turned away, pausing only to lift the belt, heavy with his equipment back to his waist and buckle it tight.
"What's due reverence?" She asked his back.
"My seed is meant to be in women. One way or another." Thurlith said without breaking stride.
Larel smiled to herself. There was no one around, but she began to collect the seed, the only question in her mind was whether she should eat it herself, or go put it in Fillra, one way or another.
