Myrynda Torviir sat in her chamber, rocking back and forth and praying fervently. She was naked, clad only in sweat that caused her pristine white hair to cling to her long, shapely back. Tears streamed down her neck and she clutched an old, tarnished emblem in her hands so tightly that her palms had long since begun to bleed. The pounding at her door sounded louder, breaking her from her trance. She whispered a quick spell and the emblem disappeared into an extradimensional holding space.
Quickly pulling on a spidersilk robe that clung to her sweaty flesh like her hair, she opened the door to find one of her elder sisters awaiting her with a frown and crossed arms.
"Why did you not answer more quickly," she snapped flatly.
"Forgive me, Nhil. I was praying to the goddess," she held her hands out, palms up, to display the lacerations. Nhil smiled at that, nodding.
"An appropriate offering to Lolth. Our blood is sweet to her and curries her favor. You know this, yes?"
Myrynda nodded, smiling a small smile.
"Good. Mother kept you out of Arach-tinilith through great pains and trials. It is up to us to make sure you understand Lolth's ways," Nhil said, stroking Myrynda's hair.
"I couldn't ask for better mistresses," Myrynda said with a smile. Nhil leaned in and kissed her softly, parting their lips with a sharp bite on her bottom lip. It was a promise, Myrynda knew, and she stifled a little anticipation for later.
Nhil led her from her quarters in House Torviir, moving her through the ornate hallways of their stalagmite castle. The floor of the hallway was blanketed down the center with lush violet velvet. The walls were decorated with statues of carved obsidian figures depicting both Lolth and the various powerful figures of House Torviir in the past. All of them were provocative and suggestive in some way.
"The ritual is over?" Myrynda asked.
"Oh, yes, dear sister. A pity you didn't join us. I mated Matron Baensek herself and filled her with my child. If only the quivering little sluts knew the end result. Our Torviir children will slay their Matron Mothers as they fight their way from the womb. All five Houses will be ours. Glorious deception!"
Myrynda couldn't share in her sister's lust for such things, but she did know how to appease Nhil without letting on her true heart. With eagerness, she pushed the bigger drow against the wall, kissing her needfully, hands grasping for the older priestess's soft parts, covered only by a spidersilk robe that hadn't even been closed around her voluptuous body.
"Ahh, little one!" she said, pushing Myrynda away. The younger priestess grinned and bit her lip. "Mother is awaiting you. No time for that now."
Myrynda made a show of pouting, and Nhil strode forward, putting her hand right against her Myrynda's cunt. She flexed her fingers against the soft vulva. "But later...I'll have you howling to Lolth for mercy. Or for more."
Myrynda smiled until Nhil turned away, whereupon her face went back to a flat expression, neither thrilled nor excited anymore.
Sune help her, she couldn't wait for her sister to return.
*****
Matron Mother Laudra Torviir watched her younger daughter with open appreciation. She was a pretty thing, with modest breasts sitting high upon her chest, short stature, firm thighs and hips, and a soft, angular face. Her long hair was in a loose pony tail, and her spidersilk gown was tied closed over her chest, doing little to hide what was underneath, only veiling it.
"My daughter," she said, her legs crossed—for once—as she sat on her throne. Attendants knelt at either side of the throne, both former drow priestesses of enemy Houses. "You missed quite an event."
"As I have heard, Matron Mother," Myrynda said, bowing before her mother. "I sensed the magic, and the pleasure. It was a cataclysm to the senses."
"No doubt," the matron mother said. "I can smell the bliss on your skin."
Myrynda smiled sheepishly. "How can I serve you, Matron Mother?"
"I'm sending you and Deathsinger Kelaxle into the Underdark for a meeting. There is a troupe of drow coming down from Gauntlgrym, led by Lirafey Mourlefey. They should be arriving by the normal route. I suggest you purchase lodging at one of the outlying outposts. The wait should not be more than a few days."
Myrynda did well to hide her excitement. Kelaxle was one of her favorites, and she spent more time than was strictly proper with the warrior. Handsome, immaculately dressed and groomed, and more than a little endowed between the thighs...she couldn't be happier.
"I expect you to escort them directly to this House, is that understood?" Matron Mother Torviir asked.
"Of course, Matron Mother," Myrynda said.
Nhil led her out of the audience chamber with Matron Torviir's leave.
"Does Kelaxle know of this, yet?" Myrynda asked her older sister. She was, in fact, hardly a sister by blood, and even then only in the strictest sense. Nhil had been a daughter of another House, a priestess and torturer of high renown in the circles this segment of the Menzoberranyr hierarchy. That House no longer existed, but Torviir blood had been injected into the House by subterfuge and cunning mating practices decades ago. Nhil was a byproduct of that.
"Yes, of course," Nhil said, "but we won't be going to him right away. I want to savor my dear sister before she goes away."
The grin and the purr in her voice sent a little thrill down Myrynda's spine. Nhil led her to her private quarters, which were much larger and more lavishly furnished than Myrynda's. A large, four-posted bed carved from petrified giant mushrooms, with gauzy silk curtains hanging all around it, contained two writhing bodies already: Nhil's pleasure slaves. They were chained and collared to the bed at all times, but slept on the floor. They were only permitted to occupy the bed itself when Nhil was away, or when Nhil told them to.
Mountains of pillows and cushions were strewn about the room, some around elaborate smoking devices, some atop long, wide couches or divans. Mirrors lined the walls in uneven intervals, and a large, magical armoire contained her clothing and any sort of beauty product she could ever want in an extradimensional space, ready to dress and decorate her according to her will.
Next to the bed was a metal-bound wooden chest. Within, Myrynda knew from experience, were all sorts of instruments she enjoyed using on her pleasure slaves, as well as any other lover she brought home. Whips, riding crops, paddles, chains, cuffs, ties both silk and leather, smooth and rough alike, enchanted rods used specifically for erotic purposes, and all manner of other, unknown items that Myrynda had never seen used before were contained in that chest.
To her, it was a dark chest of wonders, a container filled with bliss and deep, dark secrets.
Nhil led her to the bed and summarily dismissed her pleasure slaves to the floor. Former priestesses that no longer were worth a name, they scrambled to the floor. They had likely been given a choice: live life as a drider, or serve Nhil Torviir as a pleasure slave, to be used, beaten, and pleasured as the priestess desired.
"Before you sully your loins with a male, as I'm sure you will, come and let me taste," Nhil said, crawling onto the bed and laying on her back, pulling her gown open to reveal her large breasts, moist cunt, and shapely figure. Myrynda, smaller and lither, eager crawled onto the bed, on all fours as her breasts slid up Nhil's soft abdomen and over her larger breasts. She sat her cunt right on Nhil's face and the older drow began devouring her immediately.
Myrynda moaned softly, leaning over and planting her face on velvety pillows, her hands playing at her own breasts through her gown, pinching her nipples and kneading the flesh. Her cunt ran free with creamy nectar, filling Nhil's mouth and smearing her face with the sweet, decadent juices. Nhil moaned into the small pink cleft, her hands reaching up to spread the younger drow's ass wide open, revealing the soft, pliable pucker of her asshole.
Myrynda felt Nhil's finger enter her asshole and she arched her back, forgetting her breasts as she planted them on the bed, gripping the sheets in ecstasy. Nhil licked at her pussy for a while longer, then slipped out from under the younger priestess, kneeling behind her and planting her face firmly between the soft, small globes of Myrynda's ass. She ate her ass like a ravenous beast, slurping and licking and diving her tongue right into the dark cleft while her fingers began pummeling Myrynda's slippery slit.
"Tongue-fuck me," Myrynda moaned quietly, whimpering into a pillow. Her anus relaxed enough that Nhil's tongue spread it wide open, and the older drow occupied herself swirling her tongue around the rim of the winking rectum. She spiraled her tongue deep into her asshole, three fingers roughly thrusting into Myrynda's weeping cunny. She pulled her head back and spat right on the younger drow's asshole, watching it wink open and swallow the saliva.
"Stay right there, my little anal whore," Nhil said, and Myrynda did as she was commanded. She heard the chest open and Nhil rummaging through it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a stiff black riding crop fall to the bed, and she heard Nhil draw another item out of the drawer.
A flat, stiff, rubbery object pressed against her spit-slick anal orifice, prying at her sensitive hole. She relaxed as best she could, and felt the object—a faux cock shaped like one of the dark denizens her mother had begun breeding in the underchambers of their castle—pressing into her asshole. The head was flared like a surface horse, but the lateral ridges were certainly unique. She couldn't place the beast, but the way it thrummed against her anal ring had her body spasming, her cunt flowing.
There was a hum of magic as Nhil chanted, stroking the shaft as she pushed it deeper and deeper into Myrynda's rectum, so far that she could feel it in her stomach. She knew that her older sister had fused the rubbery flesh into her own pelvis when she felt her sister's hips against her ass.
"Please, mistress," she said, looking submissively over her shoulder at Nhil. "Ride me like a beast," she pleaded, and Nhil took up the riding crop. With a sharp crack over her back, the older drow began plowing into Myrynda's asshole, over and over again, mercilessly, whipping her back and her bottom without remorse or pity.
Pink and violet bruises raised up in welts all over her back and ass. She could feel the sting and bite lingering after every strike of the riding crop. The pain was bliss to her, but more than that, the monstrous phallus ruining her asshole was like riding a long, rigid wave of ecstasy.
Her body shivered, shuddered, convulsed, and she came.
"Good little whore," Nhil said, smirking. "Now clean my cock."
