This was inspired by the Path of Evil Module for NWN2—little besides character names and abilities are used.
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The story thus far: While Thurlith plays politics with his new domain, Darmorel Forgedawn is enjoying the benefits of being the daughter of the ruler of Narito, though she is not in fact enjoying being that bitch's daughter, as mother and daughter have been feuding, with words and blades for the last five years, since Darmorel turned sixteen. Note: Darmorel is a bit squickier than anyone else we've encountered thus far, be aware.
Darmorel looked like a queen. Everyone said that. Even when she wasn't present. And not just because they were afraid that people who were scared of her would report them and they'd end up in a dark hole, or scattered amongst several dark holes.
She was a tall, elegant woman, ivory skin, long raven hair, large breasts that drew the eye up from a trim waist which flared to wide hips, built to cushion a man and birth his children. Her long legs some said were meant to be knelt before, others said they were meant to be wrapped around a man's waist as he filled and bred her.
At the moment the long legs were resting on the shoulders of her elvish maidservant, who was, obediently, licking her cunt as Darmorel ate dinner. Twin guards, large half-orcs stood behind the seated princess, carefully not looking at the delicious scene before them (as the last guard to leer at the princess had discovered that 'You're an emasculated fool!' was an accurate prediction not an empty phrase). Instead the guards kept their eyes on the door, trying to ignore the soft sounds of the maid working at Darmorel's pussy with her tongue and a single nimble finger.
Her orders were to keep the princess happy, but not make her cum while she was eating. If she did, then the noblewoman would put down her fork and use one of the other instruments on the table to punish her. Beside the silverware which flanked a plate filled with expensive treats lay a dozen tools of...discipline. Everything from simple crops to cruelly barbed whips designed for use in lengthy executions.
Darmorel waved over the slender elvish man, husband of the woman between her legs and pointed at one of tarts meant to be eaten with fingers. She would not dirty hers with food. Instead the elf lifted the tart and offered it to her, carefully not looking down at his wife between the human's legs. Not that he could have seen her. The royal's voluminous black skirts completely covered the busy maid. He fed her a bite of the tart, then stood there, waiting for her to signal for a second, or wave him away.
She did neither, instead grabbing the crop by her plate and striking the elf hard across his face. He didn't drop the tart. Darmorel smiled cruelly, squeezing strong thighs around his wife's head, feeling those sharp ears pressing into her soft thighs. She preferred to have reasons to punish people, but she didn't require them. Her hand returned the crop to its place and reached for a heavier whip, something that would make the slight elf drop the tart and give her an excuse for a more...thorough punishment.
These two had seen too much. It was close to time to get rid of them. This raised two questions: How to do it so it didn't cause her any trouble? And how to do it so it caused her the most pleasure?
