Revenge Of The Drow

This sequel to

Escape from the Drow

, also published on literotica, continues the story of the dark elves. Like the first book, it contains explicit sex, as this is very much a part of the societies it portrays. However, as in the first book, sex is only one aspect of this tale of romance, revenge and redemption. Those wanting wall to wall sex would be best advised to stop reading now, but if an erotic adventure tinged with romance is more your thing, then you may find this enjoyable.

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Chapter 1: The prisoner

As Terry regained consciousness the pain crashed into him like a storm surge. The tall dark torturers standing silently at his feet shimmered through the distorting lens of his pain. He thought about how unlucky he was. More unlucky than his companions, who had been killed quite quickly in their skirmish with the drow raiders. Even more unlucky than the unfortunate boy -- out on his first assignment , who had been stabbed in the guts with the drow short sword -- but not deeply enough to sever an artery. He was left to die on the dusty plain, his guts spilling into the ground, his groans unheeded as the raiders marched away with their booty and captives.

His employer, the soft-jowled merchant, had not lasted more than twenty minutes after the first beating that the drow always give their captives - as a general taste of what is to come, and because they enjoy it. But Terry was made of tougher material.

Which is why he now found himself bound to a flat table in the drow stronghold. A small fire provided a purple smoky glow - just bright enough to make out the details of the High Priestess standing by his head. She had walked into the central sanctorum from a side passage, clad in the purple silk robe of her office, embossed with images of a giant Spider, but naked underneath. Her robe was undone and her legs were spread apart so that her pubic mound was visible. The combination of exceptional feminine grace and beauty, and her gaze of insatiable cruelty brought out goose bumps on Terry's skin. No mercy there, that was for sure.

Surrounding him were three high level drow officials; torturers for the High Priestess. Unlike the thugs who had beaten him, Terry knew that these dark skinned women were experts in their craft, and would not be letting their emotions rule their head when it came to extracting maximum pain for the longest possible time. Terry knew he would tell them everything; courage didn't come into it. Resisting the drow is against the laws of nature, like water running up hill. The High Priestess had nodded, and the sessions began. Intervals of pain, in which Terry told them everything they asked. Brief rest periods of unconsciousness then back to the pain and screaming.

The events leading to Terry's ordeal had occurred after the merchant and his train had completed a successful days trading at Formen, a sizeable city in a fertile valley, surrounded by farms and villages. Terry and the other mercenary guards had accompanied the merchant to the garrison to sell some weapons, and had met the drow commander, Maxi, a surprisingly erudite man who had warned them not to travel back through the wilderness at night.

"Drow travel at night," Maxi warned.

"There hasn't been a drow attack for two years," replied the merchant.

"Aye" said Maxi, "and odds are there won't be one tonight. But if there is, then you're all dead -- or worse"

"There's a storm coming. If we don't cross the desert tonight, we won't get through for three days."

"So spend the three days here. Better than getting disembowelled."

"We're well armed," replied the merchant, shaking his jowls at the commander.

"You're piss poor armed. You're at the frontier now. You may beat off a rabble of ill disciplined bandits with your toy soldiers, but even a moderately proficient drow raiding party would have your guts for lute strings -- if you're lucky".

"You're just saying this because you're a drow," sneered the merchant. "Or because you're in league with the innkeepers who want us to stay in the town. My guards are top in their line. The cream of the mercantile market. I paid top price for them".

"Yeah, and you know what..."

Terry and his mates didn't even see the attack coming. When they heard the commander draw his sword, their own swords were unsheathed automatically, but they never had time to use them. Terry had felt an agonising sting in his sword arm and his sword flew out of his hand. His nearest companion fared likewise. Two other guards were knocked sideways by Maxi's shield and both fell together in a clatter. The remaining guard screamed as Maxi's fist smashed into his groin. The merchant found himself with a sword pointed at his neck.

Maxi laughed, and gave his sword a flourish. The sword cut a swath through the merchant's jerkin and shirt and left a red mark along his chest.

"You were robbed," said Maxi, as he sheathed his sword and walked off. Two drow women, tightly clad in leather armour, jeered as the merchant and his guards picked themselves up and slunk away.

For a short time Terry seethed as he nursed his still hurting arm. But then he remembered his military training, full of hard knocks, and he realised that pain and humiliation teach valuable lessons. If a single drow could disarm five guards in such a way, then he had no wish to meet a patrol of them on a dark night. He expressed this to his employer.

But to no avail. The merchant demanded peevishly that they return straight away, and he even had support from the other sell-swords, impatient to get back to their wives and girlfriends. Terry had the choice of joining them or deserting, and losing all the pay he was owed. He chose to join them -- a very unlucky decision as he realised now.

#

Xiana the High Priestess needed some time to process what she had learned. If that wretched human was right, then two of her enemies were still alive. It was laughable how easily that love-sick commander had fallen in with her wishes. Just shows, thought Xiana, how foolish emotions were; they left you vulnerable to all sorts of manipulative schemes from foes and allies alike. Maxi had taken the bait; the half caste temple slave, Trieste's brat.

Xiana was pleased with the part she had played in arranging the removal of Trieste, another woman who had let vulgar emotion and sexual ecstasy cloud her judgement. Her predecessor had allowed Trieste to keep her half-caste daughter, a decision that made Xiana gnash her teeth in rage even now. Stupid, sentimental woman. Allowing family to creep into drow society was one sure path to total disaster.

What was worse, Trieste had betrayed the very essence of what it means to be a drow, an essence handed down by the Spider Goddess at the time they had separated from the elves. Ruthless efficiency and cold blooded effectiveness; the traits of the spider. The only allowable emotions were the different shades of anger, ranging from sulky petulance, through spiteful hate, and on to full berserker rage.

Xiana had been plotting to get rid of Trieste and her spawn long before she had become High Priestess. Then Trieste had been joined by Maxi, another military genius with a predilection for the sexually perverse. When Trieste had taken Maxi as her lover, Xiana added him to her personal hit list. The problem was that Trieste and Maxi were favourites of her predecessor, and her three targets were always well guarded, even from Xiana's assassins.

But Xiana knew how to wait, as patiently and dispassionately as a spider in a web. Until she saw her chance. The male pervert had been sent away so was temporarily ineffectual. Xiana had heard of a dwarfen outpost, well defended with the best mercenary fighters that dwarfen gold could buy.

She started to spread the rumours. The settlement was small, badly defended, in need of repair to the fortification. The High Priestess ordered scouts to spy out the land, and Xiana made sure it was her own women who were chosen. The scouts reported that it was all as the rumours suggested. A plunderer's dream. Hard gold and soft defences. A convenient combination of beautiful treasures and military incompetence. The High Priestess salivated with delight. She knew that her throne was shaky, and this would restore her popularity. She gave the order to attack.

Trieste was killed on the raid, as Xiana had hoped. Xiana's faction were able to seize her half-caste daughter Jade and throw her into slavery, where it was expected she would not live long. But things had not all gone her way. Trieste was not a gung-ho, death or glory-type hack. She loved slaughter and mayhem as much as the next woman, but she was also a cunning strategist, capable of discretion as well as valour.

Trieste had overseen an orderly retreat to previously prepared positions, just before she lost her own life. She had avoided total defeat and humiliation by sending in some cut throats and procuring a few choice dwarfen artefacts, before her force was driven back.

So the old High Priestess held on to her shaky throne, and even consolidated it a bit. Then Xiana had even more bad luck when the sexual pervert Maxi, instead of realising where his loyalties should lie, called in favours and arranged for Jade to wait on the High Priestess herself, through the priestly Secretariat -- a secret cabal within the priesthood that Xiana could not penetrate.

Xiana waited some more. She was patient and careful, with a loyal following among some of the younger priestesses, and she could afford to bide her time. So it was that a few years later the High Priestess's throne wobbled again. As luck would have it, this coincided with rumours of the mind flaying Über-drow, and the appointment of Maxi to lead the garrison in the mines where the monster lived.

This time Xiana, with the help of two special allies, was well placed to seize the wobbling throne and give it the final push. After her coup, she arranged for Jade to play her music to her, while she propitiated the Spider Goddess with her deposed predecessor. Xiana knew what would happen and her plans fell into place just as she planned. She did not even have to lay a hand on the half-caste; her minion Meriem, outraged at the tenor of the music the temple slave was playing, personally flogged her almost to death. Xiana was born tone deaf; she couldn't see what the fuss was about.

Xiana stopped Meriem going too far with her ministrations, having a better plan in mind. She knew that Maxi, now commanding the mine garrison, had arranged for five prisoners to become unwitting accomplices in the fight against the mind slayer. A plan Xiana had approved. It seemed that Maxi's softness in the head had not affected his military acumen. Nevertheless, he was still dangerous, and Xiana knew enough about the Über-drow to understand that five warriors, even talented ones, could still be defeated. Seven would be better.

Xiana understood emotions of love and loyalty, something most of her followers were unable even to recognise. It was this insight that had raised her to the High Priesthood, and this skill she used now, in luring Maxi to his death. For she knew, as she gave orders to Meriem to travel to the mines, take over the role of priestess and add Jade to the ranks of the prisoners, just what risks Maxi would take to honour promises he had made to his lover Trieste. It helped that he lusted after the daughter as well, thought Xiana satisfactorily.

The plan had worked better than expected. Her spies reported that all the prisoners had died, but not without killing the mind slayer. The mines could be open again for business. But Xiana had been been fed false information. Maxi had killed both Meriem and her acolyte, and had shot his military second in command in the heart while he was chasing Maxi through the mines. In addition, he had spread fear and confusion among his men about the mind slayer. None of these events were part of Xiana's plan.

By the time the men in the garrison had sorted out the problem of command structures, and a leader had emerged from the welter of mutinous corpses in the operations room, two days had passed since the battle with the mind slayer. These two days had been sufficient for the verminous underworld creatures to crawl into the chamber where the Über-drow had set up its lair, and devour the bodies of the slain. By the time the new commander had led a squadron down the caverns, all that was left was a pile of bones, plus a few splatters on the wall from the messier eaters. Identifying bodies would be impossible.

Maxi's successor, fearing the wrath of the High Priestess if their prevarication was discovered, invented a convenient fiction to give to the messengers. All enemies had been exterminated. Xiana had nothing to worry about.

Now, three years later, Xiana knew that Jade and Maxi were very much alive. And very likely dangerous, living as they did in the fortified city of Formen, and holding powerful positions that could allow them to bend the ears of the city rulers.

It went without question, as a basic axiom, that the two escapees must be recaptured. But how could this be best achieved? Xiana put the problem aside for now, because she had another task to perform. One that had been interrupted by her need to be present at the interrogation of the miserable human.

She stepped out of the Holy sanctorum, along a passageway and into another chamber. One of her terrified slaves trotted behind her. The three burly male warriors she had chosen were waiting. Naked, and standing to attention against the wall.

Xiana nodded to them, then slipped off her robe, made from fine spider silk. She handed it to the frightened human slave girl. Xiana walked to the opposite wall, placed her palms against it then leaned forward. She bent her legs slightly, spread them apart, arched her back, stuck out her firm shapely buttocks and waggled them. "Get on with it," she snapped, without turning around.

She heard the first guard run up -- a little too eagerly, she thought. As always, she savoured the absolute power she had over these hapless males. Power not only to produce abject bowel-loosening fear, but to manipulate their other feelings -- to make them seek out her approval, admire her, fawn over her, and lust after her, at the same time as they loathed and feared her. And she could do all this just by virtue of her sex. She felt herself become aroused, and a trickle of wetness glistened on her mound. Providing just enough lubrication for the first guard to moan in ecstasy as he pounded his organ inside her.

Xiana heard his grunts of pleasure and felt him banging and thrusting, gradually becoming louder and increasing in intensity, and then she felt the sticky wetness inside her as he came. It didn't take long, which suited Xiana fine, as she had other things to do that day.

The second man had already pulled the first one away, and rammed his own organ in its place. The sticky remnant from its last occupier provided extra lubrication, ensuring that the second bout took a little longer. What pathetic creatures men are, Xiana thought, as she listened to him grunting and snorting. No wonder women are the master sex, just as the drow are the master species.

The second man had finished now, and the stickiness increased. It started to squelch and some of it trickled down her leg. Xiana stood up quickly, put her legs together and waited. Then she resumed her position against the wall and thrust her buttocks out towards the third man. "Ready," she said.

The third man was thrusting more rapidly than the other two, and Xiana felt his firm hands around her buttocks steadying her and allowing greater motive power. He was banging so hard that Xiana had to brace herself against the wall, so that the muscles stood out on her thighs. The feelings of the hard organ and firm hands, the smell of mingled sweat and body fluids and the squelching noise inside her aroused her again. The man changed his angle to increase friction, thus hitting her in different spots. He grabbed more firmly at her buttocks, kneading them in time with his rhythm. Xiana's nipples hardened, she imagined those firm hands around them, and she had to stifle a moan.

Then her anger took over. How dare this poxy male get so much pleasure penetrating the Holy of Holies, and how dare he corrupt her emotions.

Xiana thought briefly of spinning around and raking his leering face with her finely honed fingernails, maiming and blinding him in her rage. Her goddess the Spider would certainly have done so. But then she controlled herself. She relied on a steady stream of strong, ruthless and successful high ranking male officers to ensure her line continued and thrived. Killing or maiming her studs would affect the quality of supply.

Xiana knew that there were many males under her command who would be quite willing to sacrifice their lives for one brief glorious fuck, especially with the High Priestess, but she also knew that these were the pathetic snivelling ones, and she only wanted the best.

So Xiana continued to brace herself as the third man spurted inside her. She heard his sigh of satisfaction, and noted with approval that the quantity was quite large. She stood up again and clenched her legs together, making sure all of it stayed inside her.

The slave girl handed her the robe. Xiana put it on then turned and for the first time actually looked at the men who had serviced her. "I want you all back on duty in half an hour," she snapped. "Meantime, you can pleasure yourself on her". She waved at the terrified slave girl, cowering in the corner.

Xiana quickly squished out of the room, before she could properly register the expression on the men's faces. Expressions combining lustful smirks with cringing gratitude, obsequiousness, fear and snarling rage. As for the slave, the men may spare her for another day, or they may not. She didn't really care either way. Supplies of fresh human captives had been drying out, but there were enough new ones born to ensure that slaves were plentiful and cheap.

Xiana entered her quarters and sat down. She needed to think. She hated herself for giving into feeling. She felt like lashing out; at herself and at the male participant who had aroused her. Though she knew this would not work. Not only would it stop the men from servicing her and thus endanger her line, it would actually inflame her desire, not quench it. Xiana was turned on by the action of inflicting pain on anyone, including herself. Which is why she left the job of torture to her servants.

So instead of pain, she sublimated her self-loathing into ruthless plotting, and hatred of anything on or under the surface of the earth. The mercenary Terry had told her of the highly proficient drow guard and the drow-like enchantress he had met in the city, and Xiana wondered why she had been so blind.

It was soon after Maxi and Jade had escaped that Xiana's raiding parties had stopped being able to get so close to the human settlements, forcing them to concentrate their attention on dwarfen mines and half orc villages. This meant that many of the dainty foods beloved of the drow priestesses, foods that only the skilful human farmers could produce, became scarcer at the drow table.

Drow attack at night, when their night vision gives them an edge over the physically stronger humans. But recently, night fighting drow coming too close to the human settlements had been repulsed, and surviving raiders reported archers with uncanny expertise in night fighting. Some had mentioned shadowy drow-like figures lurking in the background, or sometimes attacking berserker fashion and very much in the foreground. But not much notice was taken of these at the time, mainly because the frightened survivors had also recounted other far-fetched tales of ghosts, ghouls and howling banshees with maniacal laughs.