Bindings of the Subjugator

Once again I must remind you that this story will have some upsetting themes, including but not limited to:

rape, mind control, domination, slavery, physical abuse, humiliation

All characters involved in sexual acts in this story will always be above the age of 18.

Chapter 02: To Claim a Soul

Meet the new master, same as the old master...

******************************************************************

Nergal had to crouch to enter the cave he would be residing in for the near future. A few meters in, the mouth of the cave opened up slightly into a vaguely room sized cavity that the moonlight struggled to illuminate, not that the dark was any hindrance to his demonic eyes. Thankfully, he could actually stand here, although the ceiling was uncomfortably close to the top of his head. Further tunnels plunged through the depths of the earth beyond this alcove, but they would have been much less welcoming.

The demon resisted the urge to make this place more befitting of his presence. That would have been a waste of mana. In a few weeks' time, he would never again set foot in this wretched place. Sitting down and leaning back against the wall at the back, Nergal glanced back at the thrall he would be sculpting over the coming days.

A puny little human girl, emaciated and weak, neglected by the world, she had been cautiously walking behind him, one hand against the wall, trying not to trip on any unseen rocks strewn across the cave floor. Her human vision failed her in the dark, but that could be changed. This was the only thrall he had with him at the moment, and so he would have to give her more attention than he would usually afford his soldiers. She had to become formidable enough to survive the coming months. She wouldn't be easily replaced, not yet. Nergal did not yet have a proper foothold in this world.

It was time to begin. Nergal knew the human tongue, though it was not one he would often use. For now, it would be more convenient than having her learn demonic. She had spoken it earlier, since the ritual of binding could not be performed in any other language, but that was only because he had told her what to say.

"Slave." he called out.

She jumped a little and turned submissively in his direction, her head down. She could barely see him in the dark. The demon wondered if it might be better to call this one by name. The binding prevented the thrall from directly disobeying her master, but inspiring genuine loyalty could be a powerful thing. A properly motivated servant toiled much more diligently. Establishing a bond of familiarity would be the first step.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked, softening his voice as much as he knew how.

"It's Emily, my lord." she quietly whispered, her gaze stuck to the floor, her hands held down in front of her in a trained pose of submission.

"And how old are you, Emily?"

"I turned 20 last winter, my lord."

Emily hesitantly raised her head a little to look at her new demonic master, but her gaze never met his, for fear of causing disrespect. Nergal could tell there was something on her mind, and that she dared not speak it.

"Something troubles you. What is it." he asked in as warm a tone as he could muster. At this, Emily stared at him wordlessly, her mouth gaping in confusion, as though he had spouted complete nonsense. Not that he really disagreed with that assessment. Why was he trying to endear himself to a slave, again? Surely there were better ways to spend his time. What a foolish whim this had been, he had work to-

"How should I address you, Lord Nergal? That

is

your name, right?" she interrupted his thoughts. Was that all she was worried about? Well, such trivialities were easily addressed.

"It is, and the way you've addressed me so far has been adequate."

"And you're a...

demon

?"

"I am a Feldrenar, the highest form of demon. In your tongue, I am known as a Subjugator."

With a forlorn sigh, she brought her gaze back down to the ground as she muttered under her breath, "Fitting..." She had not intended for him to hear it, but his ears were far sharper than she had expected.

"You find our union fitting? I'm afraid you have lost me completely. We could not have any less in common." Was this little wench insulting him? She dared!? Certainly, Nergal had fallen quite low recently, but he was in no way comparable to this pitiful wretch, and he would soon begin his return to rightful glory. Such attitude could not be tolerated, he would have to-

Realizing her mistake and panicking to explain herself, holding out her open palms in front of her in an instinctual conciliatory gesture, Emily spoke louder than she had intended to. "No my lord, I wasn't...! I didn't...! What I meant was...! I was just talking about the color of my hair!" she let out in undisguised terror, as she held out a handful of her baby-blue hair for her master to see, as though that should somehow clarify what she meant.

"Explain yourself." the demon said, with a tone that made it clear he would not be patient. It seemed this was simply a misunderstanding, but Nergal still had no idea what this little scamp was going on about. What could her hair possibly have to do with anything?

Still terrified, Emily continued, "Sometimes human girls are born with blue hair and it's seen as a bad omen and the parents of these children often give them to orphanages or abandon them to die or sell them as lifelong slaves to some noble they call us the Azelle and they say we're tainted by demonic influences and destined to bring unspeakable evil if left to our own devices that's all I meant I'm so sorry I know I'm an insignificant worm compared to you please forgive me Master I beg of you!!!"

Taken aback by the deluge of words he had just been subjected to, he took a moment to ponder this information. Humans truly were stupid and foolish, giving power to things that held and deserved none. Fear was their instinctual reaction to the unknown. They ostracized their own kin over something so completely devoid of meaning. It was laughable.

"I assure you that the pigmentation of your hair is completely benign. The only demonic influence affecting you is the pact that binds your soul to my will. Physically, you are completely unremarkable."

*******

Something snapped in Emily's mind as she listened. Her very world was shattered by this revelation. 20 years of life she had been punished, and for what? Nothing, a lie, a ridiculous superstition! Emily had justified the pain she had endured as necessary to keep her nature in check. She was an Azelle, of course she deserved to be shunned and restrained for what she was, that was how she had coped with it.

But now that gate had been flung wide open, never to close again. There had been no meaning to it all. Pain and loneliness and contempt... they had been her birthrights. Sold to Lord Dumal as an infant, abandoned, never to be thought of again. As the foundation of everything she had used to justify her torment crumbled, so too did the structure of her sanity. Emily smiled mirthlessly and her demented giggles soon ascended into maniacal cackles, as they echoed against the dark cave walls.

But as abruptly as this raging storm had begun, it was subdued when it crashed against the unshakeable foundation of her Master's will.

"Calm yourself." he ordered, and she could only obey. "I asked you before and I shall ask again. Do you wish for power? Revenge?"

"Yessssssssss..." She hissed, with unashamed bloodlust in her eyes.

"And I shall grant you both. Now strip."

And just like that, the meek and subdued slave girl was brought back to reality. She clung to the skirt of her dress, torn and dirty, yet the only protection she had for her modesty. Uncomfortable visions of the past came blazing through her mind. Ever since she had become a woman, the baron had developed a taste for the pleasures of her flesh. He called upon his 'little blue bitch' to warm his bed more often than any of the other maids.

The thought had never crossed Emily's mind that she would be expected to perform these kinds of services for Lord Nergal as well, although it seemed obvious to her now. What purpose was there in a female slave if not doing house chores and offering sexual pleasure? And it seemed the demon did not require much housekeeping, since apparently, they were to make themselves comfortable in this dark, damp cave...

Emily had exchanged a life as a housemaid by day and a sexhole by night (or whenever Lord Dumal felt like it) for a life as a demon's fulltime plaything. She would get to see the face of her tormentor wrinkle in a fraction of the agony he had inflicted upon her, but how long would that satisfaction keep her going? How long until she wished for the same fate upon her new Master? But this time, there would be no salvation. Lord Nergal

owned

her, body, mind and soul. She would dance in the palm of his hand like a puppet, regardless of what she wanted. Was this really any better?

Those were the thoughts going through her mind as she lifted her dress from her body, exposing herself completely to her owner. She had been given an order, and she had been rendered incapable of disobedience a few hours ago. Would it have been better to just keep running back then? To fight back against the draw of the darkness? Would she have even been able to?

Emily had bared herself to the male gaze countless times before, but the shame of being forced to do so never really went away. All she could do was look down in powerless humiliation and steel herself for what was to come.

She didn't try to hide her abused pussy or her tragically small breasts, their growth stunted by malnutrition. That reflex had been brutally beaten out of her a long time ago.

"Lie down on your back." he commanded in his rumbling voice that never failed to send shivers up her spine. Or maybe that was the cold air of the cave against her bare skin. Either way, Emily's body moved to obey before her mind had registered the order, not that she could have resisted it if she had tried. She laid down onto the cold, uneven stone floor, and it dug uncomfortably into parts of her back, but Emily did not complain. She had long been conditioned for silent compliance and this feeling of helpless obedience was painfully familiar to her.

"You are dreadfully unfit for duty. There is a lot of work to be done." he sighed. What did

that

mean? What duty did he intend for her, and in what ways was she unfit for it? What kind of work did he have in mind? Did he expect more from her than to be a set of holes for him to relieve himself in?

Emily's mind rifled through confused questions as her owner brought one clawed index finger down to her stomach. Suddenly, from the tip of the claw emanated a bewitching purple gleam, from which her amber eyes could not look away. She watched as her Master's hand moved, carving intricate patterns into her skin and dying it in the same beautiful purple that had her so entranced. It didn't hurt, the sensation was more like a prickling tingle.

As her body was marked by the hand that owned her, Emily felt emotions that were entirely unfamiliar. A sense of comfort and security. She felt safe and protected. As if, for the first time in her life, she was not alone in looking after herself.

Back at the manor, there had been no one she could have referred to as a friend, no one she really trusted. Even the other maids, in similar situations to herself, associated with Emily as rarely as they could, fearful of the superstitions that had made her one of them to begin with.

Caught in the warm embrace of this unfamiliar protection, she didn't notice as the dark veil of sleep swallowed her whole.

*******

In the dead of this early summer night, having run at full tilt through the woods earlier that evening, before taking a further walk towards the cave they had taken as temporary shelter, the girl was finally asleep. It was certainly quite impressive that she had lasted this long without collapsing. Emily showed promise in certain areas. Even if she hadn't, Nergal could have still turned her into a spectacular specimen, but it was convenient to have a good foundation to build upon. Her flaws and imperfections were many, but those were easily disposed of. As he began the process of restoring and enhancing his servant's body, the Subjugator continued to plan out the process he was undertaking.

He carved into her body the base of the enchantment that would allow her to become the woman she could've been, had she been properly taken care of during her growing years. Further physical enhancements would come after she had finished this rejuvenation, and would bring her far beyond what a human female was capable of achieving.

When he had finished tracing the foundation a few hours later, Nergal took a step back to review his work and ensure everything was as it should. After a few adjustments, he was satisfied. That would be all for today on that front. These runes took a bit of time to truly integrate into the thrall's being, and this much would still allow her to grow some meat on her bones. But unlike him, humans required physical sustenance. For now, that would not be much of a problem, as there was a river nearby and the wildlife within this part of the forest was within his claim and would obey his will, even sacrifice their own flesh. But this could prove inconvenient in the wrong circumstances. Nergal would have to implement a way for Emily to remain functional over large periods of time, even without food or water.

The shaping of a thrall was a complex and delicate task. Rushing the process was a foolish endeavor and could only lead to disaster. One had to carefully build each layer of the enchantment on top of one another and give them a few hours to settle and take effect. It began with long meaningful lines that defined the general effect of the spell, and was later enhanced by smaller strokes that refined and tuned the recipient into the desired specifications. One had to oversee the transformation with diligence over its course, and prune undesired effects or realign the change as needed.

The demon moved on to the next and final change he would be making for today and traced small intricate patterns on Emily's temples, greatly improving her capacity to consciously and subconsciously absorb information. Though the runes for this enchantment looked rather simple, they were deceptively taxing on the subject and took up a lot of capacity to maintain. As such, it would be removed when Emily had acquired the skillset Nergal had in mind for her, to make room for further enhancements.

He had decided that his first slave would best serve him as an assassin, using a crossbow to take down priority targets from the shadows. She would carry a dagger for close-quarter combat should the need arise, but the demon would not intentionally put her in such situations. Given that she was his only thrall at the moment, Nergal would not be engaging in large scale clashes of armies for the foreseeable future. As such, an assassin would be ideal for eliminating individuals in positions of power, leaving their underlings in a power struggle and disarray, a perfect situation for him to swoop in, enslave key individuals and claim their assets for himself at minimum risk.

His work on her was finished for the night, but there was still more he could do to ensure future sessions went as smoothly as possible. It would be wise to perform a general sweep of her mind and identify potential issues or areas that would require adjustment.

With barely a flicker of thought, the demon opened a window into Emily's soul and peered through.

*******

When Emily awoke, she was laying naked on a soft, luxurious bed, her Master's flaccid dick snugly buried in her mouth. She looked up at the face of the man who had bought her from her parents as an infant. Now, 20 years later, she was forced to serve him daily and service him almost as often. Perhaps his only redeeming quality was that he had never sexually forced himself on her before she had become a woman, but that did nothing to fill the gaping pit of hatred she held for this vile fiend. He had abused her in other ways, even back then, and he had never stopped. He took great delight in inflicting pain upon her. It was like a game to him.

Despite the lengths at which she hated him, she had been forced all her life to submit to his every whim, to lavish him in devoted pampering and honeyed words. Anything to avoid punishment. Fate had pulled a cruel joke on Emily, but she didn't find it very funny.

As she seethed in impotent rage, she made sure to remain as still as she could, as was expected of her. Baron Dumal did not like being awakened in the morning. That suited her just fine. The longer he stayed asleep, the less free time he had to torment her. He was a lord after all, and he had lordly duties to fulfill.

"Good morning, Master!" Emily enthusiastically greeted him when she felt him stir, as was expected of her. Or at least, that's what she meant to say, but her pronunciation had been hindered by the oral intruder, her words reduced to a gurgle as a result, but this too was expected of her.

Barely giving her a glance of acknowledgement, Lord Dumal hardened in her throat before grabbing her by the throat, removing her from his cock and roughly pinning her face down to the bed. It seems Emily's Master intended to punish her. Not for any particular wrong she had committed, but simply because he felt like it. He traced a finger down her right hip, which Emily recognized as the signal for her to get on her hands and knees, and she shifted to assume the position.

As he rode her from behind, Master held her head down to the bedsheets with his right hand while his left pulled on the leash attached to Emily's collar, the only semblance of clothing she had been allowed to wear since the previous evening. It had only been a small mistake, but all mistakes were paid for in this house. The Master relished tormenting his slaves and never missed an opportunity to do so. Not that he

needed

a reason.

As her lungs cried out for air, Master finally came, and his seed flowed down into her womb. As soon as he was done, he released his grip and got off the bed, sparing not a single glance at the slave behind him. Why would he, when he could have her again anytime he pleased, or any of the dozens of other maids at his service.

But Emily knew her part was not over, and she prostrated herself down on the floor before him to thank him, as was expected of her.

"Thank you, Master, for granting this lowly whore the honor of carrying your noble seed!"

Those words signaled the end of the encounter and the doors opened to allow two other maids into the bedroom. They had been patiently waiting behind the closed doors for such a signal. Dressed in their proper maidly attire and leather collars that seemed much more comfortable than Emily's, they glided to their Master to assist in dressing him for the day. Neither Alyssa nor Cassie so much as looked at their fellow slave. Everyone knew what was said about Azelle girls, and the less they interacted with her the better.

There was no one in this house Emily could call a friend. Although Master was responsible for almost all of her torment, no one had ever even tried to give her any semblance of support. They knew what she was, and they knew better than to mingle with a demonspawn. Even though the other maids were also routinely abused by Lord Dumal, though none of them were treated quite as poorly as she was, even though they knew the pain she endured, no one ever reached out, not even out of pity.

The worst part was that Emily knew the maids offered comfort to one another and had formed a tight-knit sisterhood, one she had always been excluded from. Emily had always longed for that sense of closeness and camaraderie she saw them share as they worked or spent their free time together. But when the outcast was spotted, all voices went silent, all eyes averted.