Chapter Text
Shadowheart sat on a convenient stone, watching the campfire flicker. The woods beyond were dark, and clouds obscured the stars. It was as though Shar herself was watching, seeding the world with gloom. “Quite the night,” she murmured. “You must find it comforting.”
“Hmph.” Across the campfire, the only other person currently in the camp raised one eyebrow. “The woods are too loud, and the sky is too bright,” Minthara said after a moment. “And I am too annoyed to find comfort in anything. Even you must feel the sting of abandonment, Sharran.”
Shadowheart glanced sidelong at her companion. She respected Minthara, but in many ways the drow noblewoman was everything that Shadowheart was not. Shadowheart was a light-skinned half-elf, her black hair cut into long bangs that framed her face and a braided ponytail hanging halfway down her back. A tiny scar ran under her right eye and across her nose, legacy of a childhood injury. In camp, her armor was traded for tight leather pants and a sleeveless tunic with a plunging neckline.
Even by Shadowheart’s standards, Minthara’s resting outfit was daring. The purple-skinned drow had pale, wavy hair, pulled back into a tight bun with a few strands hanging loose. Her red eyes watched Shadowheart idly, her face dotted with dark freckles. She leaned back against a log, the motion teasing at the possibility that one of her breasts might slip loose from the pair of long leather straps that passed for her under-armor vest, barely laced together at the waist. She was clearly unconcerned with the possibility, her posture a mask of haughty annoyance.
“It is a shame,” Shadowheart said, trying not to let her bitterness show. “But the infiltration requires a small team. Someone had to stay.” It had stung not to be considered essentia, but she tried to stay calm. Loss was the way of Shar.
“Someone, perhaps. Me?” Minthara sniffed. “The mission is a waste of time, empathic frippery that could be better served advancing our goals. Even so, they will regret my absence.”
Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Surely,” she said dryly.
“I mean it,” Minthara said. “Even you - you’re a mongrel, but you have true elven blood in you, and real power besides. You’re the best of us, aside from myself. What can a spawn or tiefling offer them that you couldn’t provide fivefold?”
“You have such a way with compliments… wait.” Shadowheart frowned, raising one hand. “Did you hear that?”
“Beasts in the woods,” Minthara said dismissively.
“Perhaps,” Shadowheart said. She stood, stepping towards her gear. “But still, we should…”
“Ad Lapidē!”
Shadowheart’s eyes went wide as her muscles went stiff. Her arm froze midreach, body half-bent. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the spell had caught Minthara as well, leaving the drow paladin locked in her stretch, arms behind her and chest thrust out with no care for the world. Her face was frozen in its smile, but her eyes danced with rage as she strained against the magic binding her.
“Both of them at once!” crowed a man’s voice. “Two elf-blooded maidens, just as we heard!”
Shadowheart grunted, straining against the magic holding her as more men emerged from the undergrowth wearing dark leather armor and holding various implements of capture. One man ran up behind her, grabbing her arms and forcefully pulling them behind her back. He held them with one hand while he undid the tiny buckles holding the vest together. As he did, a second man stepped in front of her, tall and wiry, with dark hair and a ragged beard. He reached down to Shadowheart’s shoulders, grabbing her vest with each hand and pulling it off her arms.
Shadowheart felt the faintest whimper slip from between her frozen lips as the vest was ruthlessly stripped downwards, leaving her upper body bare in front of her captor. “Look at these tits,” he crowed, reaching down to fondle her left breast. “A proper handful. She’ll fetch a fortune!”
Slavers! Shadowheart trembled, willing herself to move. For a moment, she started to feel her body respond, but then there was a spike of pain in her head and she stilled again.
“Move quickly, fools! I can only hold them for so long.” The voice came from behind her, low and soft.
“Sorry, boss. But can you blame me?” The man in front of Shadowheart grabbed her by the head, pulling her down to the ground, as the man behind her used a thin silken rope to bind her arms tight. She winced at the sensation as her elbows were pulled together, straining her back as the rope looped up and down her hands, even binding her fingers to prevent the slightest movement.
As the slaver worked on her hands, the other man pulled down Shadowheart’s trousers one inch at a time, running his hands over her bare skin. “Spellcasters, they said,” he laughed. “Couldn’t put up much of a fight! Maybe they wanted to be slaves.” He pulled out a length of rope, criss-crossing it around Shadowheart’s thighs as the trousers came down to bind her legs tightly together.
“D…” The sound slipped out from between Shadowheart’s lips. With a grunt of effort, she kicked at the slaver. His yelp of surprise turned into a laugh as he realized how weak her efforts were. Her legs were bound all the way down to the knees, and her flailing feet couldn’t do more than brush against him.
“Much too late, half-elf,” he said, giving Shadowheart’s ass a heavy slap. “Six seconds earlier, you might have done some damage.” As he spoke, he pulled out a second length of rope, and began to ruthlessly but efficiently cross it over her lower legs. The trousers were pulled away, leaving Shadowheart completely naked on the ground as the man bound her down to the ankles. “No spells for you without your hands or your little holy symbol, eh?”
He flipped Shadowheart onto her back, looking down into her furious eyes. “And what a catch,” he said. “Oh, the drow will fetch a pretty penny, but you’ll get us twice that.”
“Like hell!” Shadowheart looked over to her left to see that Minthara was in the same state as her. Her clothing had been stripped off her, lying in a pile next to her, and she was being dragged towards Shadowheart as she thrashed against her restraints, each arm and leg attached to a rope and dragged by a different man. “You will not sell a noblewoman like meat! I will flay the flesh from your bones, and then revive you so that I can do it again!”
“Oh surely, your Majesty, surely. We will have to take care.” The mage stepped forward, lips curled into a cruel smile. “Normally, I would put you two to sleep, but elven blood resists such spells. Instead, we have other ways of restraining you.”
Shadowheart gasped as Minthara was dropped on top of her, the other woman’s breasts slapping against hers. Minthara’s arms were pulled around Shadowheart’s back and bound tightly together, and her legs were crossed around the half-elf’s waist. The drow was left wrapped in a grotesque parody of an embrace, pressed tightly against Shadowheart’s bare skin. More ropes looped around the pair’s necks, forcing their heads close together and leaving Shadowheart feeling as though she might lose her breath at any moment.
Minthara was less cowed. She spat curses at the men, as more ropes were lashed around the two women' s stomachs, with knotted strands running down to rub against their naked crotches. More amused than annoyed, the men tied the ropes off and left the pair struggling on the ground.
The spellcaster reached down to his side, pulling out a large bag. Shadowheart stared at it, confusion momentarily banishing her fear. It was wide enough to fit over the pair, but far too small to hold them. “We prefer to move quickly,” he said. “Try not to overexert yourselves. You may be in there for some time.”
As he spoke, he leaned down and uncorked a small flask, pouring it over both women’s skin.
“What are you doing, you scum?” Minthara snarled as oil coated her upper body. She twisted, trying to lunge at the man, and then gasped with surprise as her breasts brushed against Shadowheart’s.
Shadowheart’s gasp was an echo of Minthara’s. Arousal rippled through her, her body aching from the touch. The oil was dripping down her stomach towards her crotch, and she whimpered and strained to keep it from reaching her sensitive areas.
“If you don’t move, the lust shouldn’t overtake you,” the slaver said cruelly. He brought the bag over Shadowheart and Minthara’s heads, and the world went dark. It wrapped around their bodies, impossibly swallowing them whole.
“A Bag of Holding,” Minthara groaned, squirming against Shadowheart. “We’ll never escape if we can’t find the entrance.”
“We’ll run out of air!” Shadowheart’s eyes were wide. Even with her darkvision, she could see nothing in this oppressive place. “Stop m-moving!” Pulses of lust were rippling through her with every futile attempt her companion made to slip free of the ropes.
“This? This is n-nothing.” Shadowheart couldn’t see how flush with lust Minthara’s face was, but she could hear it in her voice. “You must b-be sheltered indeed to be af-ffected.” A moan of pleasure belied her words, and she went still, breathing heavily as she sought to comport herself. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to resist spells like this?”
“Shut up!” Shadowheart felt herself getting dizzy. The air was thick, hard to breathe. They were going to die here, struggling against each other. “You’re supposed to be the warrior. Why didn’t you fight?”
“Caught me off-guard. But I’m not going down so easily… ahh!” Minthara tensed, gritting her teeth against the sensation of Shadowheart grinding against her. “Stop it, you little idiot! You’re rubbing the ropes against me!”
“I need air!” Shadowheart couldn’t tell if she was panting from lust or panic. Just as she thought she was doomed, however, there was the faintest crack of light from above, and fresh air filled her lungs. “Oh, Goddess, thank you!”
“To the nine hells with your Goddess, and with you!” Minthara snapped. She grunted with effort. “That’s our escape!”
And then the faint light vanished. Shadowheart moaned with fear and lust as Minthara’s struggles filled her with arousal. “S-stop it…” She couldn’t help but squirm in response, and Minthara’s own struggles stilled as the ropes rubbed against her again. The rope around their necks pulled against her, doubling the effect of the stale air.
“This c-can’t last forever,” Minthara mumbled, trembling with pleasure. “We just need to hold on…”
If it didn’t last forever, it surely felt like it. Time collapsed into a haze for the exhausted women, wriggling against each other and fighting against their own bodies. The air would grow stale, leaving them dizzy and faint, before a brief rush of air restored them just enough to begin struggling again. The space within the bag gave no indication of what was happening outside, leaving the two women with no sense of distance or motion. Hunger burned in their bellies and lust bombarded their minds as they tried not to move, saving their breath for the moments of desperate relief.
Finally, however, their torments came to an end. Abruptly, Shadowheart felt a hand grab her by the hair, and she squealed with pain as she was hauled bodily out of the sack. She and Minthara collapsed onto a hard-packed dirt road.
“Aww, look at the sluts,” one of the slavers laughed. “Not so fancy now.”
Shadowheart looked up, bleary-eyed, and her heart sank.
The two women were lying in front of a stall on one side of a bustling slaver’s market. Men and women were on display, some wearing sackcloth and chained together, others naked and on full display to prospective buyers. The sky was gloomy and overcast, and the sounds of faint misery echoed around them as the slavers quickly set to work untying the pair from each other.
“Much as you love your friend, hussy, we need you properly displayed,” the mage said with a cruel smile. He snapped his fingers. “Shivante.”
The dirt and sweat caking Shadowheart melted away, dripping to the ground and leaving her perfectly clean. The slavers hauled her to her feet, stretching out her hands and shackling them to a post above her head with padded manacles. She was too tired to fight back as a leather bit gag was forced into her mouth and strapped around the back of her head, or as more manacles were locked around her ankles and her legs were spread wide. She could hear Minthara yelling protests, but they were soon muffled into gibberish.
One slaver stepped behind the post, and Shadowheart’s groan grew louder as a small wooden bar was extended into the small of her back, pushing her body out and putting strain on her limbs. She gave the slavers a hopeless look. “Nnn…”
“We need you both properly displayed,” the mage said with a smile. He stepped forward, cupping Shadowheart’s cheek possessively. “And you should want that, too,” he whispered. “The more someone pays for you, the more likely you’ll be a valued possession and not merely a toy to be used and broken.” He stepped back, reaching down to finger the half-elf’s pussy, and laughed harshly. “Not that you seem to mind such a fate,” he said mockingly. “Anyone who’ll fill those holes, eh?”
Shadowheart strained against her bonds, but even if she weren’t on the brink of exhaustion she wouldn’t have had a chance. Her arms were stretched too far, her body was too exposed. Worst of all, the lingering effects of the oils on her had left her completely aroused, nipples stiff and pussy wet. Drool gathered around her lips, dripping down onto her body as she moaned and tugged. Even if she could have formed the words of a spell, she knew that it wouldn’t matter. Shar scorned those who were captured and humiliated. Her goddess had abandoned her, and she could imagine her scorn.
Shadowheart looked to her left, where Minthara was in a similar position, eyes were filled with rage and shame. The drow sagged as much as her limited mobility allowed, turning her head to try to avoid the gazes of the rich men and women walking past - mostly humans, but with a handful of dwarves, tieflings, and even elves and orcs in the mix. Minthara’s pale purple skin was flush with arousal, her legs trembling as she fought not to climax each time that someone paused to toy with her breasts or slap her thighs. The slavers laughed, teasing the pair.
“It’ll be a brothel for you, sucking down all the dicks you can imagine,” one suggested.
“No, she’ll be a wizard’s pet, used to pleasure demons and displacer beasts,” another offered.
“Either way, she likes the idea!” A third slaver ran his finger over Shadowheart’s clit, drawing a squeal of unwanted pleasure as she tried to throw him off, and drew a round of laughter.
A hulking orc stopped at the stall, his eyes devouring Shadowheart’s body. She shivered as he approached, reaching down to squeeze one of her breasts. “Sweet little filly,” he sneered down at her. “Could see you on your knees, choking on my cock.” He raised his hand, and then swung down as though about to backhand her face. Shadowheart tensed, instinctively flinching away as she prepared to take the blow, but it never came.
Without commenting, the orc moved over to Minthara. “You caught a drow?” he asked, sounding impressed.
“Trueborn nobility, if her constant whinging is to be believed,” the mage replied.
“Hm.” The orc grabbed Minthara by the hair, forcing her to look at him. She glared daggers, spitting incomprehensible curses through her gag. “Nah,” he finally said, letting her head fall back down. “Don’t want to break her. I want someone scared, desperate. Got anything like that?”
After some back and forth, they settled on a brown-haired human woman, who trembled every time the orc approached her. He laughed, grabbing the chain leading to her collar, and attached it to his waist. “You look up at me even once, I’m tanning that pale ass of yours red,” he warned her.
Shadowheart watched him stride off, the human jogging as she hunched over and tried to keep her head pointed down at the ground. The mage looked at her, seeing her expression. “Don’t be so sure you got off easy,” he sneered. “You might find yourself wishing you’d been more pliant.”
It wasn’t long before Shadowheart discovered what he meant. Twenty minutes later, after a handful of people had stopped by to inspect her, a human woman approached, wearing a long red dress and flanked by guards. She looked over the pair with delight. “A drow and a half-elf! And they look so fierce! You’ve outdone yourself, Kenner. May I?”
“Of course, Lady Reia.” Kenner stepped back.
Reia held out a hand, and one of her guards placed a long, slender switch into it. Shadowheart tensed as she approached, tapping it lightly in one gloved hand. Then, quick as thought, Reia brought the switch across the half-elf’s breasts.
“MNNGH!” Shadowheart couldn’t bite back the cry of pain. The switch was enchanted, and a flash of lightning had sparked across her breasts as it landed, creating an agonizing sensation. She pulled on her chains, trying to lunge forwards, but only managed to make her aching breasts jiggle.
“Good response,” Reia said thoughtfully. She lashed out again, and Shadowheart let out another cry. Then she moved to Minthara, laughing as she repeated the experiment. The drow’s response was even more feral, swearing and thrashing as the switch landed across her breasts, stomach and thighs. “Yes, they are fun. I will place a bid.”
She spoke quietly with Kenner for a minute, and then returned. “That is my highest bid, Master Kenner,” she said over her shoulder. “As amusing as these two are, I need to replace my toys too often to spend more. But if they sell, I’ll pick up one of your leftovers to tide me over until something more interesting arrives.”
Kenner bowed. He returned his attention to Shadowheart and Minthara, walking over and laying a hand on each of their aching breasts. Soothing magic flowed through them, erasing the marks left by her tests. “You’d best behave,” he said. “You really want someone to place a higher bid than Lady Reia.”
Shadowheart swallowed, believing him.
The next half-hour was less exciting. Several people stopped by, and Shadowheart quickly lost track of the number of times someone approached her, running their hands over her breasts, stroking her legs, even grabbing her hair and pulling it down to inspect her scalp.
One man, a young human in rough leathers, leaned in as he looked her over. “Breasts are alright,” he murmured. “I like those eyes.” One of his hands darted forward suddenly, and Shadowheart blinked in surprise as he dug into her armpit, fingers wiggling.
She shivered slightly, pulling away, and the man pulled back with a sigh. “Not nearly ticklish enough,” he said to Kenner. “What about the drow?”
“The same, I’m afraid,” Kenner said. “I know one of my men played with her feet while he was binding her, and she barely responded.”
The young man sighed heavily. “I want someone who’ll go mad with fear and desperation at the mere thought of it,” he said, handing Kenner a small card. “If you find a woman like that, please bring her by my manor. I’ll pay well, I promise.”
The stream of buyers just kept coming. The slavers who had taken the pair had other prey, but Shadowheart and Minthara were clearly their prized possessions, and they enticed nobles, mages, and merchants over to place bids for one or both. A brothel owner outbid Reia, bringing a sigh of relief before Shadowheart overheard him mention that he thought she could manage fifty men a day. Minthara received a bid from an elf who wanted her for a ‘magical ritual’ and tried to wrangle a discount in exchange for ‘returning what was left afterwards’. Each time, Shadowheart felt her heart grip her throat, wondering what her fate would be.
The sun was low in the sky by the time the last prospective buyer approached. “Well, now, what have we here?” A tall human walked over, drawn by the sound of the woman’s painful pleasure. He had short dark hair and pale skin, and was wearing elegant green robes, embroidered in golden filigree. A young woman trailed in his wake, dressed as a demure servant but with sparkling amusement in her eyes, and a pair of guards watched the market for signs of trouble. “You’ve found some rare beauties, Kenner.”
“Ah, Master Dalman.” The mage stepped forward, bowing. “A rare pleasure to see you here. Looking for more goods to train?”
“My business is personal, today,” Dalman said, eyes fixed on Shadowheart and Minthara. He stepped up to the half-elf, reaching out with a delicate hand, and gripped her left breast. She moaned at his touch, and he ran one finger over her nipple thoughtfully. “Where did you find these?”
“Would-be adventurers in the shadowed lands. Fools ripe for the plucking.” Kenner stepped back, allowing Dalman more full access to the women.
The merchant ran his hands down Shadowheart’s body, a smile flitting across his features as she shivered despite herself. He slid two fingers into her pussy, running them lightly across her skin, and chuckled as she bucked against her restraints. “She’s eager,” he said. “Broken in?”
“No, that will be for their new master,” Kenner said as Dalman moved to inspect Minthara. “This is merely the result of a day’s endeavors. But their magic has been stripped from them, and they are helpless as babes.”
“Your work is impressive, as always.” Dalman’s fingers slipped into Minthara, and she moaned, eyes rolling back as pleasure assailed her. Her body trembled with reluctant pleasure as the man tested her, and she arched her back despite herself, thrusting against his fingers. Just before she could climax, however, the merchant withdrew his hand. Minthara whined with need despite herself, giving him a look of longing that quickly shifted to shock as she realized what she had done, and Dalman stepped back with a satisfied nod.
“And they are fertile?” he asked.
Shadowheart felt her heart drop. It was a less terrifying question than many of her would-be buyers had asked, but there was only one reason for a question like that.
“Magically inspected,” Kenner assured him. “Both the drow and the half-elf are very fertile indeed, in the prime of their lives.”
“Well, then. Let us discuss price.” Dalman gestured for his assistant, stepping aside to speak softly with the mage.
Shadowheart looked over to Minthara, whose face was a mask of shock and disbelief, eyes closed as she continued to quiver with desperate need. Part of the half-elf was terrified, but the other part of her desperately wished that Dalman had allowed the pair to climax.
It didn’t take long for the negotiations to conclude, and a bag of coins to change hands. Shadowheart let out a soft sigh of relief as her manacles were unlocked from the post, allowing her hands to fall forwards for the first time since her capture. Next to her, Minthara could barely work up the energy to shoot the guard unchaining her a vile look as she was similarly half-freed.
New chains were attached to the manacles on the women' s feet, allowing them to walk but not run, and their hands were left in front of them, the guards each holding one of their leashes. “Be good for your new master,” Kenner warned Shadowheart as she was led away, “or else you’ll be back here soon enough and bound for a much worse fate…”
Shadowheart hunched her shoulders, barely responding as she and Minthara were led through the streets by their new keepers. Passersby stopped to stare at the naked, barefoot women, whispering and laughing at their plight, but Master Dalman paid them no heed.
The walk to Dalman’s estate was only an hour, but by the end of it Shadowheart and Minthara were practically staggering on their feet, their long captivity catching up to them. Their new owner had deliberately slowed his pace as the women began to flag, and as the gates to the estate swung open he turned to his assistant. “See that they are washed and fed,” he said, “and prepared for this evening.”
With that, he turned away, moving to deal with his own business. One of the guards passed Shadowheart’s leash to the assistant, and she and the other guard entered the manor with their swaying slaves.
The two women were led upstairs, to a bathing-room at the end of a long hallway. As they entered, the guard stopped at the door and allowed the maid to lead them the rest of the way. “Master Dalman has put me in charge of you,” she explained. “You can call me Mistress Aless. I trust that I’ll have no trouble from you.”
Minthara groaned as her gag was removed. “Uncuff me and find out,” she said darkly.
Aless laughed. “You can barely stand, drow. And you were marked by magic when the slavers took you. There’s nowhere you could run that they wouldn’t find you, and trust me, runners do not have pleasant lives.” She reached down, uncuffing Minthara’s legs. “Mastar Dalman is kind to his property, but he brooks no insubordination. You two are the first slaves he has purchased for himself, rather than for trade. If you are properly devout, you will have lives of luxury raising his children.”
“His children?” Shadowheart asked, her voice raw from thirst.
Aless noticed. As she guided the two drow into the large, steaming bathtub, she poured two glasses of ice-cold water and allowed the women to take them. They drank greedily, half-listening. “Dalman’s dream is for a lineage that will surpass him,” she said. “Half-elven children, with their father’s brilliance and their mother’s longevity. When he could not find an elven bride, he sought other avenues.” She glanced at Shadowheart. “He will ensure that your child shares your elven gifts.”
Shadowheart’s mind raced, considering her options as Aless carefully washed her, removing the dust of the road and the signs of their captivity. Next to her, Minthara was clenching her teeth, clearly resisting the urge to leap on the woman and try to drown her.
When they were properly cleaned, Aless knocked on the door, and the guard returned. “Eat, and then we will take you to Master Dalman’s bedchambers to await him,” she said, as the guard placed trays of pastries on the table. “Remember, be devout.” She stepped out of the room, leaving the two to descend on the food.
“There are two of us and one of him,” Minthara said after devouring a pastry, carefully brushing crumbs from her lips. “He thinks we’re beaten. We can jump him…”
“We won’t be free for long,” Shadowheart pointed out, rattling her chains for emphasis. “Better to wait for our chance.”
“I am not letting a mere human bed me! Treat me like his property! I should be ruling slaves, not acting as one!”
Shadowheart leaned in. She reached up with one finger, wiping away a crumb from the corner of Minthara’s lips. “Look at you,” she murmured, as Minthara’s face flushed. “You’re in no position to resist him. Neither of us are.” She let her hand fall down, running down the length of Minthara’s body, and watched the drow struggle not to show her arousal. “Tired, horny, powerless. A night of submission will lull him into a false sense of security, Minthara. Let him think he’s beaten you, use him for your own pleasure. Be clever.”
“I…” Minthara looked away, blushing. “I suppose I could do that. As a ruse.”
“As a ruse,” Shadowheart agreed. She didn’t know if it would be a ruse; her body was at war with her mind. Even if she escaped, where would she go? Without Shar, she was nothing. Their companions would not want them back powerless. She had no family, no friends.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, they simply had to endure Dalman. And surely that would be an easy enough task. A human merchant flush with self-importance. How skilled could he be? Between that thought and the pastries taking the edge off of her hunger, she was feeling hope for the first time as Aless and the guard led her and Minthara to the chambers that had been prepared for them.
Shadowheart couldn’t help but gasp at the room; it was huge, with tall, barred windows and the largest bed she had ever seen. She allowed herself to be led to it, biting her lip as Aless carefully laid her down on her back and pulled her arms above her head. “Must you?” she asked, trying to sound demure. “I won’t fight.”
“Master Dalman leaves nothing to chance,” Aless replied. She locked the chain to the top of the bed, leaving Shadowheart’s hands pinned above her, as the guard did the same for Minthara. The bed was wide enough that the two were only almost touching; they could shift to press their bodies against each other, but no more. With that done, the humans departed, leaving the two naked and alone.
“I hope he gets it over with soon,” Minthara grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “I want to sleep.” Shadowheart glanced at her. The drow’s cheeks were still flushed purple with lust, and she rubbed her thighs against each other, covering the dampness of her crotch. She was still clearly dealing with the after-effects of the oil.
Shadowheart laid back against the soft bedding, closing her eyes for a moment, but all that she could think about was Dalman. What his touch might feel like, whether he would take them quickly or allow them pleasure.
Her thoughts spun and chased each other, and she almost didn’t hear the doors open and close again. “Well, well,” Dalman’s voice came, smooth and sure of himself. “My pets, tied up to be presented. Did you enjoy your bath?”
“I’ve had better,” Minthara said haughtily. Shadowheart closed her eyes again, sighing silently.
But Dalman chuckled. “Ah, a woman of taste. Well, perhaps I can make it up to you.” His robe fell down as he approached the bed, revealing his body for the first time. He had a layer of fat that Shadowheart was unused to on elves, but he was lithe enough for a human, and she could see muscle underneath. He was clearly a man who enjoyed his luxuries, but made up for it with effort. He was wearing nothing but a small blue amulet around his neck, which glittered as though reflecting candlelight. “I’m sure you’ve mated with other elves, but you have no experience with a real man.”
“I have no need of experience of human… oooh…” Minthara’s retort was cut off as Dalman’s hand drifted over her thigh, running along the edge of her pussy without ever quite touching it. He reached up, running a single manicured finger in patterns over her breath, and she began to pant slightly in response. “I don’t… stop…”
“As you wish,” Dalman teased, turning his attention to Shadowheart. “Perhaps you will be more grateful,” he said, reaching down.
Shadowheart gasped as his hands began to explore her skin, each touch igniting a firestorm of desire. She didn’t know if it was the merchant’s skill or the lingering magic of the mage, but his touch made her want more, made her want him to reach down and plunge his fingers into her. She whimpered, blinking quickly as her arms instinctively tried to pull down to embrace him and couldn’t, and she saw from the amusement in his eyes that he’d noticed.
“Now, this is a beautiful pussy,” he teased, running his fingers over her. As Shadowheart felt pleasure threatening to crest within her, however, he pulled back, looking down on her with a smirk. “Shall we see if your friend is ready for me now?”
Next to her, Minthara’s breath was coming in quick gasps as she struggled to regain control of herself. “You think yourself so important, but oh my goddess below, don’t stop!” Dalman’s hand was back down against her crotch, fingers teasing the edge of her clit. She bucked against the bedding, legs twitching as her toes curled. “Damn you, don’t you dare… no…”
Dalman pulled away again, drawing a whine of frustration from the drow. “Slaves don’t get to decide when they receive pleasure,” he said lightly. “You may beg for it, but I will make the final decision.”
This time, he knelt between the two women, looking between them with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. One hand fell down to each of their breasts, squeezing them gently, fingers running across their tops. “Perhaps I should make it a challenge,” he teased. “Which of you will beg first? Which of you will give herself to me?”
His fingers ran down their stomachs, and Shadowheart shivered with pleasure. Her mind was half-fogged from lust, barely able to remember that she was supposed to be giving him what he wanted. She didn’t have to remember.
Dalman’s hands settled on both Shadowheart and Minthara’s thighs, fingers dancing inwards towards their pussies. Both women moaned, backs arching as they twisted towards their new masters, and his lips curled in a smile.
His hands left them at the same time, and Shadowheart and Minthara let out matching moans of disappointment. Dalman looked down on Shadowheart, running a finger along the line of her chin, down to her throat. Her body trembled at his touch, and she gasped with pleasure. “Do you want to beg for it?” he said softly.
“Yes, Master Dalman,” she said. She needed to appease him. She needed him inside her.
“Good girl.” He positioned himself before her, and she gasped as he began to enter her. It was slow, deliberate, teasing at the edge of her until she was thrusting herself towards him. Beside her, Minthara let out a quiet whine as the merchant’s hand brushed against her again, leaving her aching for his touch.
But Shadowheart was past thinking about her companion. As Dalman’s thrusts began to pick up speed, her world narrowed to the pleasure coursing through her, overwhelming her mind. Sparks flashed behind her vision as he adjusted his speed, carefully watching her reactions and pushing her steadily towards climax. “Please, Master,” she begged with all of her heart. “Let me climax!”
“Of course, pet.” And Shadowheart’s walls collapsed around her, a wave of pleasure like nothing she had ever experienced as the man came inside her. Her eyes rolled back as she cried out with joy, body stiffening and slamming back against the bedding.
When he was done, she laid there in a daze. She was faintly aware of Dalman touching his amulet and then moving on to Minthara, whose groans and demands dissolved into pleading, and finally into a roar of delight. But it wasn’t until the merchant’s hands began to run over her body again, a new wave of arousal rushing through her, that she realized he wasn’t done.
Dalman continued to pleasure them late into the night. Every time that Shadowheart thought that he must be spent, the man touched the amulet around his neck and was ready for another round. She gasped each time he entered her, pleading and begging for more, her body arching back as he thrust over and over again, legs giving out. Beside her, Minthara did the same, every scrap of haughtiness banished by the waves of pleasure crashing through her.
Shadowheart lost count of how many times she came, how many times he came within her. When he was taking Minthara, she tried to catch her breath, recover her thoughts, but soon enough he was back to her.
Finally, however, even Dalman’s magically-enhanced vitality reached its limit. As his amulet faded to a pale blue, he withdrew from Shadowheart and leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. He turned to Minthara, doing the same. “I think that will be enough for tonight. Get some sleep, my dears. Aless will come to clean and feed you in the morning, and then tomorrow we can do this again.”
He hummed happily as he recovered his robes, leaving his two new slaves exhausted, dazed, and overwhelmingly satisfied. Shadowheart didn’t even have enough energy to see how Minthara was doing, or to worry about the chains on her wrists. She drifted off to sleep even as the door was closing behind him, knowing that there would be many more nights like this and hungry to see how far she could go…
—--
Eight Months Later
“How are my lovelies today?” Master Dalman beamed as he entered the room. Behind him, Aless was pushing a tray loaded down with luxurious foods and chilled fruit juices.
“Fat and weak,” Minthara groused, lying on the divan. She was naked aside from the light chains that still linked her wrists; Dalman preferred his ladies to be on display for him at all times. She barely spared her master a glance, but one hand ran protectively over the swell of her belly. “The gods mock us.”
“We are doing well, Master,” Shadowheart said, bowing her head. Her own body was a match for her companion’s, large with child. “The usual pains, but nothing fierce.”
Dalman laughed, reaching down to pat her head. “My little shadowcat,” he said. “And my spitfire. I could not have asked for better pets. I will leave you to eat, and see you later today.”
As Aless set out the food, Shadowheart looked over to Minthara with a hint of a smirk. “Fat and weak?” she teased.
“Shut up.” Minthara snatched a sausage from the plate, teeth gritted. “You and your stupid plans. He’s definitely not expecting anything, now.”
Shadowheart blushed, looking away, but she couldn’t help but smile. Her plan had half-worked. As the weeks had progressed, Dalman had gradually given his slaves more freedoms, removing the chains from their legs and giving them the run of his estate. But their pregnancies had ended any hope of escape. He would never stop looking for his children, and both he and they knew that they would not abandon them.
“You will be a matriarch after all,” Shadowheart said, letting Aless hand her a glass of cherry juice. For her part, the child in her was something she’d never expected to feel - hope. It was the death knell for her priesthood; even if she returned to Shar, she could never atone. “Your child will rule a merchant empire.”
“A human merchant empire,” Minthara said. “Barely worth anything.” Once again, however, one hand cupped her belly. “At least he is ruthless,” she muttered. “Even if he is too soft on his slaves. I would never have allowed us… this.” She gestured with the sausage for emphasis.
Shadowheart couldn’t help but laugh at the jibe. Trust Minthara to be angered at not being properly oppressed. But she knew that the drow felt the way that she did. Her oath of vengeance had been broken when she gave in to her new master, and her powers lost. She would teach their children to be strong, and Shadowheart would teach them to be wise, and Dalman would give them the luxuries that they deserved. He would offer the women pleasure, and they would serve him well.
There were many worse fates in the world.