The Slave World Abductions

The Slave World Abductions

A Fanfiction

Part Seven

by The Preve

Based upon characters and concepts created by Roxy Rex.

The author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Roxy Rex for his permission in writing this story.

Manor Felldis and Plantation

The Lilium are a dicey people, especially when it comes to relationships. They're masters of sex and soul trading, and extremely dangerous to cross. I took a huge risk coming here. I'll have to say, I wasn't sure our earlier banter wasn't mostly bluster. I'd never tested my abilities against a Lilium before, and I wasn't about to start now. Optimally, I'd rather the possibility not come up at all.

I was actually happy the issue with Kim O'Brien resolved the way it did. The circumstances aside, sometimes these problems end positively for the victim, so long as it involves free will.

It still didn't mean I trusted the Duchess, in spite her vow. She's an infernal being. They always have loopholes.

Artalik, with considerable reluctance on his part (albeit, to his credit, he maintained a strong professionalism), escorted me to the guest room. Very nice digs, certainly better than the three previous inns. I'll say it rivaled the best Hyatt Regencies.

"The Duchess has instructed that a bath be drawn for you, as well as dinner, plus complementary laundry for your clothing. All under terms of the vow."

Artalik's tone was cold, with not a little acid, touched with a bit of disappointment. This guy really wanted me eviscerated.

I did a scan soon as he left. No spells, binding, mesmerizing, transforming, or otherwise. No malevolence; given whose house I was in, that in itself was suspicious. A possible ploy to get me to let down my guard? Or some other game requiring my presence, with no harm. Whatever, she was up to something.

It did feel good, I must say, to wash the road dust and several days of grime, from my body. Outside of basic privies and chamber pots, most Slaveworld inns have few amenities for personal hygiene: just a bowl of water mostly.

I made sure to keep my weapons and pack with me in the restroom.

Always

keep iron with you, first rule of Slaveworld.

The bath included a razor and shaving soap to remove the shadow from my face. Towels and a robe awaited in an adjoining dressing room.

Dinner was on the table near the bed. My stomach growled at the sight: a whole roast chicken, potatoes, carrots, peas, and gravy. Plus bread dripping with butter, a goblet of wine, and honeyed apples for dessert. I was impressed but performed the usual (and not so usual) scans. Excess of caution was no vice on Slaveworld, especially when an infernal being was involved.

No infernal traps, spells of obligation, binding, or transformation (meant I wasn't going to be trapped into service, or confined to a designated area, with the threat of crumbling to dust if I stepped outside of it, or turned into a horse or something).

No poppy juice or other soporific or poison either (wouldn't put it above Artalik, or that venal goblin, to slip something in the meal). I dug in; delicious.

A servant, not Artalik, came in with my clothes, neatly pressed and folded. I was impressed. Lady Felldis obviously sported an excellent laundry room.

I dressed, and sat on the bed, thinking. Yes, the Duchess was definitely up to something. She wouldn't be so accommodating to a person of my status unless she saw a benefit. She was planning something, or conceiving some stratagem. I just needed to find where I fit in it.

Plus, there were the others. I couldn't linger too long here. My plan was to hook up with the first caravan to Avarakan. Sharif Kassir might be easier to deal with than Shaharabad.

Kassir was a public official, and might want less complications similar to Lady Felldis. Plus, he could help with extracting Lola Pandit. That is, if he wasn't pissed from having to free Sara.

Then there was Maria Torres. If the orcs in the Red Horde haven't raped her to death that is. I don't like the idea of following a murder trail to find the mission was a recovery, rather than rescue. Besides the tragedy, it meant I would have to kill a lot of people.

And finally, the twins. I needed to figure a way to rescue them too. There was no way I could get up to those regions alone, not in winter. I needed he... wait a minute... Ofttimes in my investigative work, I'd have an idea staring me in the face, and wouldn't recognize it until almost, if not, too late. The idea I got at that moment was a very good exception.

"Yeah, it just might work," but I had to set it aside. There were complications even in that. For the moment, I needed to deal with Lady Felldis.

Artalik came to the room at ninth bell. His expression wasn't happy. Probably still reeling from the Duchess' soft treatment of me.

"Her Grace will see you in her bedchamber," he said in a voice as cold as his homeland. "I am to escort you."

I thought about taking my gear with me, but opted for a pair of knives instead, to Artalik's displeasure.

"I know she took the Vow of Hospitality, Artalik," I told him, "but I'm not walking into a Lilium's bedchamber without some iron. Lead on."

The steward walked ahead, a good thing. I wouldn't trust him at my back, in spite the Duchess' orders.

I glanced around as we walked through the hallways. For all her status as a high ranking demon, the Duchess was remarkably immaculate, but then, the Lilium were known to be among the more aesthetic, and politic, of the Infernal Races.

The polished floors, paneled walls, paintings, plants, and statuary pointed to her excellent taste. I suspect the neglect of the library was due to her distraction, running such a large estate. Politics provided another distraction, probably. She'd have gotten to the library sooner or later without Kim.

I noted the absence of servants. A manor such as the Duchess' needed a large staff.

Artalik read my mind (not actually, he just guessed my question), "The house staff keeps set hours, and they're finished for the day. We have night servants but they're working in different parts of the manor, per Her Grace's orders. She does not want to be disturbed this evening. Specialized crew are with Her Grace and her new... employee, 'sniff'!"

"Specialized crew?"

"You shall see presently."

We came to a sizable, very stout-looking, door, made of thick black oak, the Duchess' sigil carved into it. Good craftsmanship on the woodworker's part: black oak was strong as steel and difficult for any but the best.

Artalik knocked, and waited for the sigil to glow red, indicating permission to enter.

Artalik opened the door and held it while I stepped inside. I'm not lying; once again, the view was impressive.

The Duchess' bedchamber was the size of a high end Manhattan studio. I have to say, the Duchess loved her red and black.

The whole bedchamber was furnished in black oak. The draperies, pillows, and bed were done in blood red silk and satin. The whole set up was reminiscent of the last chamber in Poe's "Masque of The Red Death."

The two people on the giant bed, however, weren't Prince Prospero and a bloodstained skeleton. The Duchess and Kim O'Brien were really going at it.

Kim was on top. Her position, under different circumstances, would be highly unusual, given the power of the person currently ramming her tail up the librarian's bunghole.

Kim made for a very strong carnal impression. She bounced and ground on the Duchess' tail, with all the enthusiasm of a veteran porn star. Her pigtails flew, the muscles in her body tensed and flexed, and the expletives spewing from her mouth contrasted greatly with her demure, mousy librarian image.

The Duchess' impression, on the other hand, gave off a slight, cold amusement. The closest thing to enjoyment for her, I guess. Her sizable hands were wrapped around the librarian's ass, spreading it for deeper purchase.

Kim's loud ululations of, "Oh Mistress! Oh fuck! Oh fuck my ass, Mistress! Ream me! Drill me, Mistress! Oh! I'm cumming Mistress!" contrasted with the soft aspirations of the Duchess.

The whole scene made my pants feel very tight, and that was intentional, because I was not the only audience.

Standing around the bed, and in the chamber, were a whole slew of very nude, very oiled, very well-endowed, and very hard, man servants. The group was a mix of orcs, humans, and elves, light and dark. No tieflings though. The group was obviously selected for looks and cocks. All were at attention, and all cocks pointed toward the bed.

I knew exactly what this display represented, and chanted a shielding spell to augment my personal wardings.

I didn't think this tantric session was for my benefit, nor a trap on her part. I suspected the Duchess had these nightly feedings regularly.

She fed off, with Kim's assistance, the tantric energy emitted by these young men. Lilium were expert in this magic. Did I mention Kim had her glasses on throughout?

The session looked like it wasn't going to end for a few minutes, and I didn't want to voyeur the thing, so I picked a corner and stood there, facing away. The fucking noises subsided after five minutes.

A few moments rest, and then the Duchess rumbled a contented purr, followed by commands.

"Man bitches leave. Kim, lick my pussy while I discuss matters with Mister Grant."

"Yes, Mistress."

Sigh.

Ideally I should be taking Kim home, while leaving the Duchess with a bullet in her head, and her corpse in a burned library, but Miss O'Brien chose to stay of her own free will. At least she gets paid for her services, and has the option to leave anytime.

I can't help but wonder how it's going to be with the others.

I approached the bed. Kim was between the Duchess' thighs, eating her out. Her ass and pussy were wet, and in the air. She still wore her glasses.

The Duchess stroked Kim's hair, and then looked at me.

"You may join in if you wish. We can discuss the current events while you partake."

"I'll pass, thank you." I wouldn't be honest to say I wasn't tempted, but Kim was technically still my client. Ethics folks, ethics. Besides, I didn't feel like giving a powerful demoness even a smidgen of my tantric energy.

"Much as I appreciate the hospitality Your Grace, I'm here on business, and I have a caravan to catch. You mentioned ideas on the person, or persons, behind the purchases?"

"Mmm-hmm," she purred, combining her affirmation with a pleasured rumble. "I'm sure you noticed the seal of the Taurus Group on my sla... employee's haunch cheek."

"I have."

"I was at a Council meeting several days ago, and managed to acquire information, from reliable contacts, and I must emphasize their anonymity for discretion's sake, that the governors of the Taurus Group signed a secret alliance with Prince Alarik of Surtur."

"Ah hmmm." On those words, I got a bad chill, and went very pensive. Prince Alarik, the Grand Duke of Surtur. He was on the list of those who suffered losses in the recent Council War. Ann put him in the unlikely category. A dark elf with his wealth and power could easily make up for the losses, but he also had resources to hire the parties involved in the abductions. Still, the Duchess could be trying to obfuscate matters. She had her own agenda. That was obvious.

The Duchess, though, was very perceptive.

"You have no reason to trust me, I know. And I wouldn't be candid if I didn't admit my rivalry with the Grand Duke, plus his wealth obviously allows him to finance a campaign for the Council."

"Yeah," I said, "The Grand Duke is known to be sneaky, but careful. You can see my skepticism over why he'd complicate his run with illegal purchases."

"What if it wasn't just simply about a run for the Council?" the Duchess said with a smile.

"Hmmm, interesting. Go on."

"Rumor has it there is friction between the Grand Duke and his mother."

"The Empress. I was given to understand friction was the standard relationship between the Grand Duke and his mother, but then, dark elves are never known for strong family bonds. What's the difference this time?"

The Duchess' catlike smile was a gossip sharing a juicy secret, "The word, from these contacts, is that the Empress intends to pass over the Grand Duke in the line of succession, in favor of his younger brother, Prince Roderik."

If the Duchess wanted a big reaction on that bit of news, she got it, but I didn't show it. My mind was a'whirl though. Thoughts stormed through my head. Things were starting to make sense.

Say you were the heir apparent to a powerful empire. You just found out your mother, who you despise, so the credible stories went, is about to fuck you (albeit from the stories I heard, fucking was a literal activity between these two, along with the metaphorical I just mentioned. Moreover, I briefly wondered why she would pick the weaker, idiotic Roderik before I thought, "Nah, it makes sense. A power whore like her would need a weak fuck like Roderik to manipulate, and dominate." Plus, from some of the stories out there, Roderik has a bigger cock.).

So the obvious choice is to launch a coup. The problem: Mommy holds much of the purse strings, and knows where the money goes.

So Alarik has to take the roundabout route. Gain a seat on the Black Council, possibly to cultivate allies for his coup attempt, officially to give Surtur representation. Except the Council War happens and he's set back in finances.

His mother (who probably knows what her son is up to, Empress Alyss is no fool) isn't about to let the Grand Duke spend any more family money, so what does Alarik do? Create an alternative revenue stream, id est, slaves.

Some aspects didn't make sense. The Empress will die, eventually. Roderik's weakness makes him a liability as an Emperor. Alyss, power addict that she is, would be concerned about her legacy, and the long term stability of the Empire.

Alarik, for all his spoiled entitlement, was competent. The relationship between mother and son was far beyond toxic, but antagonizing him made no sense... unless she had a contingency.

The Duchess, a woman used to power games, thought along the same lines.

"The Empress' actions do not make sense on the surface, I agree. There are some rumors the Empress actually favors her younger brother, Prince Carolik, who is considered more competent than Alarik. The political situation is not favorable for him, however. Prince Roderik makes a convenient stop gap until it improves."

"Ah hmm, makes more sense now (rumors also said the Empress kept her younger brother in her bedchamber until kicking him out in favor of her son. I wondered if this affair might be a play for power by Carolik?). What does the Taurus Group get out of this?"

"Free trading rights in the Empire, without tariffs and duties, so the story says."

"And only if Alarik wins through," I added, "Very lucrative market, Surtur."

"Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmeth," Kim was bobbing her red-haired head between the Duchess' legs, her ass wiggling in the air. It was difficult not to look; she was really well-shaped down there.

"Yes my pet?" asked the Duchess. My face flashed disapproval. The Duchess' term implied a slave/master relationship, but Kim had just been emancipated, so the Duchess' attitude wouldn't change overnight. Plus, Kim was a sub and a masochist. I made a mental note to instruct Social Services to make sure their toughest conducted the welfare checks.

Kim raised her head and continued, "I heard some things in the dungeons, Mistress. The orc who branded me was talking with one of the minotaurs. I couldn't hear clearly 'cause there were other slaves getting branded, so there was a lot of screaming, but I know I heard the minotaur mention something about a 'Prince's Consul' at one of the auctions."

"Ah-hmmm," I said, "Last I heard, the Margrave of Floeland was Prince's Consul."

"Mmm-hmm," said the Duchess, "And my contacts informed me that two years prior to the war, he made several trips to the Black Mountains."

"Ah," I grinned and rubbed my chin. The Black Mountain shaman and the Svartalf noble mentioned by Muck Muck came more into focus.

Kim added more, "I overheard some orcs, later on, talking about some Black Mountaineers beheading a couple of Red Mountain tieflings. They 'deflowered a couple of purchases and lowered their price,' they said. Then the orc mentioned something about the 'Lighters' finding out, but the other cut him off. The Lighters they were talking about, um, that's you I guess, right?"

I smiled and nodded. "You weren't the only one kidnapped from Earth, Miss O'Brien, and the others, I don't think will make the same free choice as you."

"I heard enough in the dungeons, Mister Grant. Somebody really screwed up, didn't they?"

"Uh huh," I nodded, "And they're going to pay for it. Thanks for the information Miss O'Brien, Your Grace."

I sat back and pondered. Kim dove back into the Duchess' pussy. All of it was alleged, hearsay, through sources of questionable reliability, but it fit.

To summarize: Prince Alarik, Grand Duke of Surtur, is planning a coup against his mother, the Empress. To gain allies, he needs a seat on the Black Council, but suffers losses during the recent war. To raise cash for his campaign, without drawing on the treasury and alerting his mother, he forms a partnership with the Taurus Group. The Taurus Group then hires the Red Mountain clan as acquisition agents.

So where does the Black Mountain shaman come in? They're elite and expensive. The best at selecting slaves, and portal magic.

Here's an aside regarding slave selection. If, say, you were an acquisition agent wanting to snatch product from a closed realm, without alerting the Department's sorcerers, you need to get through several problems.

First, you need to select specific individuals, who are least likely to be missed. That means probability spelling, which also includes pinpointing the target's most likely location, or locations.

Then you have to figure out the most opportune moment to strike. Often at a peak moment of travel between the realms, when the highest number of portals will be open.

Everyone has to be at the portal, ready to go. The snatch has to be quick, with no margin for error.

Finally, the tracks have to be covered well enough that any snatch could easily be attributed to local activity: a young woman, with mob connections, in a library; two young girls at a concert, with large, chaotic crowds and cosplayers; an exec in a darkened parking garage; a woman alone in a dance studio; a woman in an alley.

At some point the Department does take notice, but with so much on its plate, years could pass before action is taken, making rescue near impossible.

It takes the best sorcerers to make the probability calculations for a snatch like this. Dark magic crews like the Black Mountain charge dearly for their services.

"Which probably explains the Margrave's involvement," I thought.

Minotaurs, like orcs, are usually hands on. I'd expect the Taurus Group to be more proactive but, since they're jumping up to merchant guild status, picking middle men and subcontractors makes sense.

Nor would I expect them to assume the risk of a dangerous venture themselves so, "They split the cost with the Grand Duke. He uses the Margrave as a liaison and proxy. The Margrave hires the Black Mountain shaman. Taurus hires the Red Mountain clan."

"Mmm-hmm," the Duchess agreed, "A good assessment. I don't think the parties expected a quick reaction from the Department. I certainly didn't."