Act One: The Dark Mistress

“Enter.”

The iron door swung open, and a drow warrior strode halfway across the dimly-lit chamber before obediently dropping to a knee. “Priestess Varassa, your scouts have returned from their raid upon the surface.”

Sighing in annoyance, Varassa set down her stylus and glared at her quivering supplicant. “Do you think me deaf, male? I heard the palisade gate open, and your men tromped through the camp like a band of ogres. Perhaps you should tell me something I don’t know before I have your skin flensed off.”

“I ... I apologize, priestess,” the male blubbered. “I am not worthy of your presence.”

“Yet again you tell me something I already know,” Varassa muttered. She rarely bothered to learn the names or faces of the male warriors assigned to her by the Matron Mother, but this idiot was clearly from the newest batch of reinforcements. At this rate, he wasn’t going to survive a week. “Last chance.”

“The scouts didn’t discover any signs of enemy encampments, priestess, but they did capture two surfacers near one of the ancient temples in the hills.”

Varassa cocked one of her white eyebrows. Now that was actual news. In the three months since the Matron Mother had ordered the construction of this outpost, the most interesting thing Varassa and her regiment had discovered was a previously unknown exit to the surface just a few miles away. Initially, she had hoped her warriors would find a village to raid—or at the very least some new captives to amuse her—but thus far they hadn’t discovered anything besides empty fields and forests.

“Who are these captives?” she demanded. “Are they anyone of importance?”

“Not as far as we can tell,” the warrior said. “One is a human male, and the other is a half-breed female. We caught them copulating inside the temple ruins.”

Varassa laughed. Of course, that made perfect sense: the ancient temple was dedicated to some long-dead god of family or matrimony or some other surface nonsense. The fools had probably decided to mate there in the hopes of being blessed ... or perhaps they were simply adventurous. Either way, this was the most promising turn of events in recent memory.

“You’ve already moved them into the dungeon, I trust?”

“Yes, mistress. The scout commander awaits you there.”

“Excellent,” Varassa said, standing. “You are dismissed, male. Inform your commander that I shall meet with him shortly.”

The warrior departed with a crisp nod, and Varassa strode over to the nearby equipment rack. She rarely bothered wearing her armor while in camp, but today she decided to make an exception. The prisoners were likely terrified already—the fearsome reputation of the drow had spread far and wide across the surface—but she wanted to ensure they knew precisely who was in charge here.

With practiced ease, she slipped out of her priestly vestments and strapped on her adamantine breastplate and matching chain skirt. Like all drow-forged metal, the armor was both supple and resilient ... though given the power of the magic at her command, it was also largely redundant. A true servant of the Spider Queen didn’t need to rely on mere metal to protect her, and as a result Varassa had designed the pieces more for form than for function: the low-cut breastplate hugged her gray-blue skin in all the right places, and she’d cut out a tiny section around her navel in order to proudly display her spider-shaped tattoo. The chain links of her skirt ended halfway down her thigh, and her knee-high boots were a weapon unto themselves. The six-inch heels allowed her to tower over the males sworn into her service.

Once she was certain all the straps and buckles were properly secured, Varassa tied her long white hair up into a ponytail and then sauntered out into the base camp. As usual, her underlings kept their distance. She was in charge of nearly a hundred warriors and wizards, and all of them knew better than to impede her progress for even an instant. Thankfully, the trip only took a few minutes, and the lone guard outside the dungeon opened the gate for her without a single word.

Varassa spiraled down the staircase, and the whispers of conversation below immediately cut off at the sound of her heels clicking against the stone. The dungeon area wasn’t particularly large—her wizards had shaped the entire sixty-by-sixty area with their magic in less than a day—and they hadn’t bothered with any individual cells. An empty rack and pillory rested just inside the room along with a single bed and table. Three of her warriors waited within, and they’d already bound and gagged the captives.

“Hail, priestess,” the scout commander said with a half bow. “I bring you gifts from the surface.”

Varassa smiled and nodded. The human male was young, perhaps twenty seasons at most, and his rusty brown hair and matching eyes made him look even younger. He was clearly in excellent physical condition, however, and his thick arms and broad chest were impressive. He was also a full head taller than her warriors, which Varassa found particularly amusing.

The female was a niskaru, a mixed-blood mongrel of surface elf—darthiir—and human. Still, she seemed to have inherited the best features of both races. Her body was slender but curvaceous, and her blonde hair and green eyes were quite arresting. She might have been a bit older than the male, but it was difficult to tell for certain.

Yes, Varassa thought to herself, this was indeed going to be fun.

“Kneel before your mistress, worms,” the scout commander ordered in the surface tongue. He pushed both prisoners to their knees, then switch back to the drow language. “The male was carrying a sword, but the female was unarmed. We did find a small pouch of spell components hidden inside her belongings, however.”

“A fledgling wizardess, then,” Varassa commented. “Interesting. She doesn’t look particularly bright, but perhaps that is simply her darthiir blood peeking through.”

The woman didn’t react. She probably didn’t even speak the drow tongue and had no way of discerning a random word from a racial slur. But that was all right. By the time this was over, Varassa would teach this pathetic half-breed slut everything she needed to know...

“Our initial interrogations revealed little of interest,” the scout commander said. “They seem like worthless villagers, but we assumed you would wish to probe their minds yourself.”

“How very wise of you, male,” Varassa said approvingly. “I reward those who demonstrate competence and loyalty.”

She stepped in closer and eyed each of the prisoners up and down. Burdened by their weak eyesight, they probably couldn’t even see most of the chamber—the lone glow-stone against the far wall was barely as strong as a candle—but it was vital that they look upon their new mistress.

“Still, I doubt they know anything of use,” she went on. “They are likely just foolish children who made the mistake of leaving the safety of their homes.”

One of the other warriors drew his knife, which instantly elicited a panicked yelp from the female. He grabbed her chin and placed the blade at her throat. “Shall I kill them, then, Priestess?”

“No, not yet,” Varassa said, raising a hand. She stopped directly in front of the captives and smiled down at them. They might not have understood her words, but judging from their widened eyes, sweaty temples, and trembling muscles, they understood their situation quite clearly. They knew their lives hung in the balance, and they knew Varassa was the one who would decide their fate.

“I have grown bored these last few weeks, and I will give them the opportunity to amuse me,” she went on. After glaring down at them with her glowing red eyes for a few more seconds, she eventually nodded towards the warriors. “You may leave—all of you.”

The two warriors glanced at each other in confusion, but their commander merely nodded and signaled for the others to follow. He obviously knew better than to question a female’s orders, no matter how bizarre they may have seemed—that, or he already knew her particular tastes in dealing with prisoners. Varassa made a mental note to learn his name later. Now, however, it was time for some much needed entertainment.

“I will speak in your disgusting language so that you might understand me,” she said in the most common surface tongue. Judging from the shift in their expressions, they recognized her words just fine. “I am Varassa, revered priestess of the Spider Queen and second daughter to the Matron Mother of Vel’shannar. You are now my slaves, and if you wish to survive you will do exactly as I command. Do you understand?”

The male nodded immediately, but the female merely whimpered into her gag. She definitely needed to be taught a lesson, if for no other reason than to stop being such a disgrace to their shared gender.

“Fortunately for you, I am more generous than other drow you may have encountered. I believe in rewarding loyalty ... and submission. Obey me, and you will be treated well. Disobey me, and I will feed you to the driders.”

Varassa inched closer to the male and loomed over him for a moment before tilting up her chin. “Slave: stand.”

His face twitched in confusion, and for an instant she wondered if she might have overestimated his ability to understand her. But then he hastily leaned forward with a knee and hoisted himself to his feet.

“Good,” she said. “Very good. My second test is even simpler. For this, you must merely trust me.”

Reaching down to her belt, she slowly unsheathed her dagger. The black blade glimmered with a faint crimson light, a tell-tale sign of the powerful enchantment coursing through the metal. She could plunge the tip into his chest and siphon away his very life-force in an instant ... but instead she pressed the flat of the blade against his cheek.

“I am going to cut free your gag,” Varassa told him. “You must remain perfectly still, otherwise I could scar that beautiful face of yours. You trust your new mistress, right?”

His throat twitched and he swallowed heavily, but eventually he nodded an affirmative.

“Excellent. Now stay still.”

Varassa gently slid the blade between the thin wire and his skin. She made certain to take her time; she wanted him to feel the cold metal drag across his throat. But to his credit he didn’t even flinch, and once she was satisfied she sliced the wire. He coughed as the gag fell from his mouth and dropped to the floor.

“Again you have pleased me, slave,” Varassa said. “You should be glad.”

“I am, mistress,” he managed. Despite his youth, his voice was deep and smooth ... and now that he was back on his feet, she could fully appreciate his height and musculature. He towered over her despite her heels; drow males really were quite pathetic by comparison.

“What is your name, slave?”

“Um ... Weylin, mistress.”

“Weylin,” she repeated, allowing her tongue to test the odd syllables. It certainly wasn’t the worse surfacer name she had ever heard. “And what is your female’s name?”

He swallowed again as he turned and looked down upon the girl next to him. “Solemi, mistress.”

“So, her family chose a darthiir name after all, then. Such a pity.” Varassa wrinkled her nose. This niskaru was irritating her more and more by the minute. Hopefully there was more to her. “I have a few simple questions for you, Weylin, and I expect you to answer them.”

“I won’t betray my people,” he replied, his jaw clenching. “No matter what you do to me.”

Varassa cocked an eyebrow. “Really,” she whispered, not bothering to conceal her amusement. “I have broken much stronger men than you, rivvil, and you should know that I enjoy a challenge. I suggest you not tempt me further.”

Chuckling, she dragged the tip of her blade down his tunic and methodically sliced it open. The cloth easily fell aside, and she nodded in approval at his chest muscles. They were every bit as well-formed as she had hoped.

“Still, I appreciate your spirit,” she went on. “And fortunately for you, I don’t care about your pathetic village. My questions are more personal.” She stepped in close enough that she could feel his breath. “How old are you?”

“Um,” he murmured. “Twenty seasons, mistress.”

“I see. And how many women have you bedded?”

Weylin coughed. “I’m sorry... ?”

“It’s not a difficult question,” Varassa said. She cut open the rest of his tunic, then paused her dagger right above his trousers. “How many women have you fucked?”

“J-just one, mistress,” he managed.

“Really? Just Solemi here?”

He nodded and glanced at his mate again. “Yes.”

“I see. How about her, then? Do you know how many men have taken her?”

“N-no one else, mistress,” Weylin said, clearly confused. “Not that she’s told me.”

“How pathetic,” Varassa sneered at the girl. “Only one male in your whole life? Surely even a mongrel could have claimed many others by now.”

Solemi grunted something into her gag, and Varassa snorted contemptuously. During her limited study of surface cultures, she had been horrified to learn that many human societies ascribed to inane notions of “exclusivity” with their sexual partners. The entire concept was insulting. A worthy female chose and discarded her lovers at a whim; she cared nothing for the approval of others. Surfacer culture was truly barbaric.

“Perhaps you are simply a remarkable lover,” Varassa mused after a moment, “and Solemi here has seen no reason to claim others. What do you think?”

“I ... I don’t know, mistress,” Weylin replied. “I try to please her.”

“As well you should, male. Perhaps we should take a look at what you have to offer.”

With a flick of her wrist, Varassa slashed open his belt, and Weylin gasped as his trousers dropped unceremoniously to the floor. To her delight, his cock was every bit as beautiful as she had hoped. It was already semi-erect, too, and she smiled knowingly. He clearly liked what he saw—and why wouldn’t he? Surface females were frumpy and pathetic compared to a favored priestess of the Spider Queen.

“Wonderful,” she said. Flipping her dagger on its side, she reached down and gently placed the flat of the blade beneath his quivering member. He flinched apprehensively, obviously fearing she was going to castrate him, but Varassa placed her fingers soothingly against his lips. After a few moments, his cock swelled until he was rock hard. “I told you that I don’t harm my slaves unless they disobey me. Besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Any female would be rightfully proud to claim such a majestic phallus as her own.”

Weylin coughed again. “T-thank you, mistress.”

Varassa chortled in amusement and glanced back down to Solemi. Her green eyes gaped in horror; she probably couldn’t understand how her lover had become aroused so readily after having been taken prisoner. Her stupidity and weakness was truly nauseating. Perhaps now would be the best time to put her in her place.

“Come closer, slave,” she beckoned to Weylin. “Stand here over your mate.”

The man slinked forward a few steps, but not close enough. Scoffing under her breath, Varassa grabbed his arm and yanked him over until his erect cock dangled directly in front of his lover’s lips.

“Since you are clearly too pathetic to control your male, he is going to be the one who controls you,” Varassa told Solemi before glancing back to Weylin. “What do you think of that, slave?”

“I...” he stuttered. “I don’t understand, mistress.”

“I’m offering this worthless cunt to you,” she told him. “Do you want her? If not, I’ll just have my guards feed her to the driders and that will be the end of it.”

“No!” Weylin gasped. “I want her. I ... I’ve always wanted her.”

“Very well, then. Serve me obediently and faithfully, and you can bury your cock inside her anytime you wish. First, however, I think it’s time you officially marked your territory...”

Smiling wickedly, Varassa shifted her dagger into her left hand and then reached out with her right to touch his waist. Her fingers leisurely crept down his leg, and she traced her long nails along the bottom of his testicles. Solemi garbled something into her gag as her lover’s cock continued to throb directly in front of her, but Weylin’s breathing had already begun to accelerate. This wouldn’t take long.

“There is one catch, of course,” Varassa said, her fingers slowly and torturously curling around his shaft. She nestled in closely enough to him that her armor-covered breasts pressed against his flank, and her left arm reached around his waist with the dagger still clutched in her hand. “You cannot climax until I give you permission. Otherwise, you will have disappointed me. And I’m sure you know how I feel about disappointment, yes?”

Weylin closed his eyes and nodded but remained silent. It was clearing taking every ounce of his willpower not to erupt right this instant, and again Varassa’s smile widened.

“As for you, cunt,” she said, shifting her eyes to Solemi. “You will stare directly at your lover’s cock. You will not flinch away or close your eyes—if you do, you will be punished severely. Do you understand?”

Solemi nodded. Her entire body was trembling in place, and Varassa wondered distantly if the girl had ever tasted her lover’s seed before. If not, she would soon. By the time her training was finished, she would be down on her knees begging for more of it.

“Good,” Varassa said. “Then let us begin.”

Slowly, deliberately, she began to stroke Weylin’s cock. It really was quite gorgeous, and a part of her was tempted to kneel down and take him into her mouth right this instant. But a drow priestess didn’t prostrate herself before any male that way, and certainly not for a mere rivvil. She only fellated her lovers once they had sufficiently pleased her, and she hadn’t found a worthy partner in far too long.

Later, perhaps, she would indulge herself and taste him right in front of his mate. The possibilities were endless, and she had precious little else to occupy her attention at this outpost.

“Not yet,” Varassa whispered into Weylin’s ear when she felt his climax approaching. “Not until I give you the command.”

His face scrunched as he desperately tried to control himself, and she began to stroke him harder. Drow males—or at those who survived into maturity—had remarkable sexual endurance. They knew that the only way to secure their future was to please a powerful female, and the smart ones learned to temper their base urges and control their bodies. Human males, on the other hand, were almost the complete opposite. As the rulers of their society, they were free to care only about their own pleasure.

The thought made Varassa’s stomach churn, and she hoped that Weylin was an exception. But there was only one way to find out.

“Tell me something, slave,” she whispered into his ear. “When you fuck Solemi, where do you spill your seed? On her? Inside her?”

“In-inside her,” he managed, his eyes still closed.

“I see. And you aren’t concerned about getting her pregnant?”

His brow twitched. “She protects herself with magic.”

“I thought I sensed an enchantment upon her,” Varassa commented. “We’ll have to remove that later then, won’t we?”

Solemi’s eyes gaped open wider, and the priestess grinned.

“What about her mouth?” she asked. “Have you ever spent yourself down her throat?”

“Just ... just once, mistress.”

“But never on her, correct?”

“Never, mistress.”

“Even better, then,” Varassa said, pumping him as hard as she could. “This will be a perfect introduction to her new role.”

“Mistress,” Weylin pleaded. “I can’t...”

“You wish to cum, slave?”

“Yes. Yes ... please.”

“Very well. You have my permission to mark your mate.”

The words had barely left her lips when she felt his entire body convulse. The first spurt splattered across Solemi’s forehead, and the second struck her directly in the nose. The rest Varassa carefully aimed at the half-breed’s cheeks. By the time Weylin’s cock was spent, Solemi’s face was coated with his seed ... and most surprisingly of all, the girl had kept her promise and not flinched away.

“Look at her,” Varassa ordered. “Look upon your lover, slave.”

Eventually Weylin swallowed and opened his eyes. Solemi was staring at him, her expression a mixture of horror and rage ... but also a trace of acceptance. Was she ready to undertake her new role already? Probably not just yet, but she would be soon.

“She is yours now,” Varassa said. “You own her just as I own you. How does that make you feel?”

“Powerful, mistress,” he managed between breaths. “It makes me feel powerful.”

She smiled and released his flaccid member. “As well it should.”

He might have just been saying what she wanted to hear, of course, but that was all right. He would have the chance to prove himself soon enough. As he recovered from his climax, his cheeks began to flush red. Was he embarrassed? Guilty? If so, that would need to change ... but there was no rush.

“You have passed your first test, slave,” Varassa told him. “The second is even easier: you will remain her and watch over this cunt for me while I deal with some business in the camp. Do not allow her to clean herself—I want her to wear your seed as a reminder of her weakness. Do you understand?”

Weylin nodded sheepishly. “Yes, mistress.”

“Good. Then I shall see you again soon ... and our lessons can continue.”

Act 2: Domination

Varassa spent the next hour meeting with her scout commander discussing his latest foray to the surface, and by the end she’d even learned the male’s name: Maliveth. His supplicants were far less relevant, of course, though they did provide her with a detailed map of the surface region surrounding the ancient temple above. Soon, perhaps, she could convince the Matron Mother to move their outpost further south, and they would be within easy reach of nearly a dozen villages and small rivvin settlements. One of them might have even been Weylin and Solemi’s home.

For now, however, the region was secure, and she ordered Maliveth and his men to relax for the next few days. None of them was foolish enough to ask her any further questions about the new prisoners, though she did remind them that no one was to enter the dungeon without her permission. She wanted her new pets to remain unspoiled for as long as possible...

After conducting the evening ritual at the Spider Queen’s shrine, Varassa finally returned to the dungeon. She once again spiraled down the staircase, and the clicking of her heels echoed off the stone walls. All the glow-stones had been suppressed at her orders, and the prisoners had been sitting in complete darkness or several hours now. She half-expected them to leap out from the shadows and attempt to overpower her—after all, any self-respecting drow would have used this opportunity to mount an escape. But thankfully they weren’t drow, and they clearly knew better than to challenge her rule.

“Hello again, my pets,” she said as she rounded the corner and approached them. “Are you ready to serve your mistress again?”

Weylin nodded even though he couldn’t see her. Varassa smiled and whispered a word of magic, and a heartbeat later a tiny ball of light materialized in the air at the center of the chamber. The surfacers blinked and squinted as their weak eyes struggled to adjust. Solemi hadn’t moved an inch; she remained crouched on her knees, immobilized by her restraints. Weylin’s seed had dried against her cheeks and clothing, and Varassa nodded in approval. The niskaru looked exactly like the pathetic surface slut she was. That was good—she was about to be given another lesson in submission.

“Excellent,” Varassa said. “I’ve heard that young rivvil males possess considerable sexual endurance—is this true?”

“I ... I’m not sure, mistress,” Weylin managed.

“How can you not know your own body?” she asked, stepping back over to him. She reached out and cupped his testicles in her fingers, and his flaccid member almost immediately came to life in her palm. “There, you see? I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

He clamped down on his lip, trapped somewhere between arousal and terror, and Varassa chuckled in amusement.

“For now, however, your task is merely to watch,” she told him, releasing her grip. “It is time for me to give your lover the attention she deserves.”

Varassa turned on a heel and stepped back in front of Solemi. The girl was still quivering, though whether her muscles trembled in fear or rage was difficult to tell. Her eyes were filled with roughly equal parts of both.

“Actually, there is one more task you can perform for me, Weylin,” Varassa said, unsheathing her dagger. “Take this.”

Weylin’s cheek twitched. He was probably trying to decide whether or not this was a trap, but eventually he stepped forward and took the offered blade.

“I want you to disrobe your mate,” Varassa ordered. “Quickly ... and completely.”

He hesitated for a moment, but just before she scolded him he gently took the blade and then leaned down over his lover. At first, he started unclasping the straps of her blouse by hand, but Varassa shook her head and nodded to the knife. Swallowing heavily, Weylin began to surgically cut piece after piece of cloth until the woman’s blouse and skirt completely fell away.

Surprisingly, Solemi’s niskaru body was even more attractive naked. The subtle curve of her hips was a perfect complement to her sleek, slender frame. Her breasts were slightly larger than Varassa’s, and evidently some of Weylin’s seed had trickled down to the girl’s nipples before drying against her skin.

“Do you wish me to remove her bindings as well?” Weylin asked gingerly.

“Not just yet, no,” the priestess said, retrieving her dagger from him. “She must earn the right to speak. She’s clearly never been taught how to behave as a proper female, and so that duty now falls to me.” Varassa turned back to Weylin. “Help her up onto the bed. I want her on her back.”

Nodding, Weylin gently squeezed Solemi’s arms and helped her stand despite the bindings around her wrists and ankles. He then shuffled her backwards and laid her down upon the dungeon’s only mattress.

“Very good, slave. You are free to watch, but you will not touch yourself.” Varassa grinned in amusement at his rock-hard member. She could probably make him erupt with a single tug or lick. “Not until I give you the order. Understood?”

“Of course, mistress,” he managed. “Y-you’re ... you’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

“I will do whatever is necessary to teach her proper behavior. Now go and stand in the corner.”

He nodded and obeyed, and Varassa paced back in forth in front of the bed. After letting Solemi’s imagination run wild for a few moments, the priestess leaned down and used her dagger to slice open the restraints binding the other woman’s feet.

“These won’t do at all,” Varassa said. “I can’t afford to let you get used to having your knees together, not with what I have planned for you.”

The priestess whispered the words to another spell, and soon a pair of shimmering spider-silk bands draped down from the ceiling. Solemi gasped in fear—with her weak eyes, she probably assumed there was an actual spider lurking somewhere on the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to feed you to one of the Spider Queen’s pets,” Varassa chided. “Though if you don’t grow a backbone soon, I will seriously consider it.”

The silken bands slowly reached down and curled around Solemi’s ankles. Once their grip was secure, Varassa flicked her wrist. The strands stretched back up to the ceiling, tugging the girl’s legs with them until she was fully splayed at the edge of the bed.

“You should feel honored, cunt,” Varassa said, pivoting and slowly striding over to the various torture implements arranged along the opposite wall. After fingering several of the most disturbing devices, she selected a small, slender razorblade. “I am going to help remove a fraction of the human taint from your flesh.”

Solemi’s eyes widened in terror, and Varassa made sure to hold the metal in the light long enough for the other woman to get a good look at it. Solemi wriggled in place, but with her ankles suspended in the air and her wrists pinned behind her back, there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Grinning, Varassa knelt down between Solemi’s legs. The girl obviously kept herself reasonably well-groomed, but Varassa saw no reason not to finish the job. Summoning a quick spell to her lips, the priestess blew a thin stream of air across Solemi’s pink folds. The girl’s flesh prickled in response to the heat, and a moment later a glimmering sheen of magical liquid spackled across her pubic hair.

“Just don’t flinch,” Varassa warned. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”