Author's Note:
A Drow's Dilemma began as a one-on-one roleplaying project and has been converted into a chapter-by-chapter format for weekly posting with the permission and assistance from my partner. It will contain a considerable amount of sexual themes such as femdom, lesbian, straight, 'reverse' rape, BDSM, group sex, romance, and other themes. The main goal of the story, however, is to tell an epic tale of adventures, gods and goddesses, fae, and nymphomaniacs. This episode and every episode to come will be available for free on Literotica for the foreseeable future. All characters that engage in sexual or suggestive situations are mentally and sexually mature: the human equivalent of 18 for their race.
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Episode 91: Retaliation
Jhul slumped into her seat when the last of the people left the hall. She didn't fall unconscious as her pleasure slave had. She sort of wished that she could have if only to escape the looks she was getting from everyone who was left. Only herself, Caleldir, her mother, and a completely different set of mage-guards were hanging around the table and chair. The latter was only needed for their muscle. Neither Caleldir nor Jhul was in any position to get away. Even though Jhul was only emotionally tired, she didn't feel like she had the physical strength to do much. So it was that Jhul was dragged groaning from her chair while her mother spoke to her.
"There. You see? He is nothing. Willing to pour his seed into any cunt that engulfs him. He doesn't deserve emotion," Iiv'lua said with a gloating smile.
Jhul only glared and trembled. Daughter had a few choice words for mother. There were other plans in the works, though; plans that would be ruined by too much defiance too quickly. For now, though it burned her soul, Jhul broke her gaze with her fantastically foolish mother and looked as much the contrite drow daughter as possible.
"I think you have learned your lesson. Guards? Take her to her room. And Jhul? Don't forget that you need to return to your duties next cycle." And with that, the drow matron swept away from the hall and out of sight.
The guards did as they were asked. One threw Caleldir over her shoulder, and two helped carry Jhul'une between them. They brought them as far as the very front of Jhul's apartments, then dumped the both of them on the floor there. Jhul let herself sink to the soft spidersilk carpet and simply sat there with exhaustion-deadened eyes for several long moments. Then she looked over towards Caleldir and weakly pulled his upper body into her lap. There, on the floor and leaned against the wall with Caleldir in her arms, she fell asleep.
Soon after Jhul had fallen asleep, Caleldir woke up. Still naked, and covered in the sexual fluids of a staggering number of women in addition to his own, he felt dirty and violated beyond belief. Fortunately, the physical aspect of that was easily dealt with. Without prying himself away from Jhul, he cantrip'ed away the slime from both of them. Sighing deeply, he stood up, picked her up very shakily and set her down on her own bed.
Jhul merely stirred slightly and opened her eyes for long enough to determine who had her in his grasp. It was only Caleldir, of course. She rested her head on his shoulder and inhaled his scent. It was only his, now. No trace of the other cunts who had violated him while she was forced to watch. She fell back to sleep even before he had managed to put her on his bed. Really, she shouldn't have been so tired. Jhul wasn't the one who had to give her seed to every eager woman in the complex. And yet, she could barely keep her eyes open.
Caleldir's hand went to his collar. When Jhul'une awoke, he would tell her everything. For now, screw waiting around. He was going to break out of this collar now, subterfuge be damned. If she would work with him to unseal his powers, then they could be away before the next cycle was upon them.
--
Many miles away in the Underdark, in the very same small, but crucial Frehelvi outpost that Caleldir had been sold at, some of the guards were having a bad time. There had been a very strange visitor to the outpost. Drow, she was, by coloration - brilliantly snow-white of hair and shined obsidian of flesh - but her eyes were an unnatural shade of silver. And she was tall for a surface elf. For a drow, she was massive. Almost certainly, she was more fey than elf with the eldritch beauty that belonged to such beings. Moving with an otherworldly grace, she had flowed up to the outpost, her long soft grey cloaks billowing oddly around her, and inquired after one 'Caleldir Blackdawn, who had been sold here these two weeks past'. When information proved hard to gather, the woman nonlethally subdued the guards without any fanfare and broke into the outpost. And continued until she found the one in charge.
That one was Sbatvyrae Frehelvi, as she had been those two weeks past. The Frehelvi noble was unable to do much as the newcomer disabled her guards, and, in a shockingly short battle, herself. The woman seemed to bear no weapons and under her cloak: she appeared to be barefoot and naked. But her skin, soft to the touch, turned away blades like adamantine armor. And she seemed to be able to conjure blades and blasts from nowhere without any telltale signs of spellcasting. Not that she did not use spells as well.
When the battle was over, the woman quickly confirmed that, yes, one 'Caleldir Blackdawn' had been sold here, to House Dinoryn. Lying did not work, as the woman knew when Sbatvyrae tried it.
The woman smiled. "At last, I know where you are."
Leaving the outpost, the woman grinned into the dark. "No idea how you are related to me, Caleldir, but I, Abanonda Blackdawn, will not allow one of my House to fall into slavery."
Silver eyes glowing, she vanished into the darkness.
--
About an hour later, Jhul finally stirred and sat up. Her wrists and ankles ached from the restraints that she had probably struggled against a bit too enthusiastically. Somehow, she couldn't help that tension and that attempt to escape every time another woman engulfed Caleldir's cock. The first fifty women, anyway. After that, her count became fuzzy and she couldn't summon the will to fight. Jhul was really regretting fighting in the first place. What had it accomplished but sore limbs and extreme tiredness?
Her next concern was where Caleldir was. Still in the room with her, using some of her arcane instruments on his collar. "Pet?" she said, careless of his open rebellion against the collar. The abyss-damned thing needed to come off; she didn't want her mother to be able to use it to control him ever again. "Get my things ready; we are leaving."
"Indeed. Let us get ready to leave. But before we go, I have a request to make of you. And, a confession."
"Tell me in a moment." Then she got to her still rather shaking feet and properly dressed herself for the first time that cycle. Caleldir immediately got up to assist her. It was nice to be finally allowed that dignity. After the last part of her robes were on and smoothed down, she began carefully packing some of her magical items stored around the room into her small enchanted pouch of holding. Her only thoughts for the moment were of just striding out of the front door - it would likely be pretty clear from the determined, angry set to her features. "Alright. What is it?"
He took a deep breath. "I am not actually a drow. In fact, I am only an elf in the loosest sense. My name is real, but not my original one. I am a Blackdawn only by honorary adoption due to having taught one of their daughters magic twelve centuries ago, before Deusterra fell. My original name is Caleldir Hissael, Master Librarian of Deusterra. I am the son of an ancient Titan and a Nymph Archfey. Technically, I am a demigod, in the sense that my mother was a sort of goddess and I helped Deusterra to program and build two other goddesses. One of which is loyal to me and looking for me right now, and the other of which went mad, cursed me and the rest of my country and created an alternate personality of a mad ghost-king named Goelon Duvainor that I unlived as for the last twelve hundred years. I escaped from the mad monastery, and adventured with the heirs of Duskhaven, including delving back into my old cursed haunt to seize ancient artifacts and the secrets of genetic manipulation. I mentioned that a Drow House was going to make me House Consort? That House was Duskhaven, now in the grips of an almost completely successful coup d'etat, which Selene and Tsabdrin are the only surviving members loyal to the legitimate Matron, Ashyr. When we came down to retake the House from the rebels - with me in my disguise as a relatively ordinary drow - I was ambushed and sealed by a mercenary who always smiles and seldom opens his eyes, and sold into slavery."