Tale of a drow...(fantasy story/fanfic)

[GrimReaper333]

For those wondering...I am Morgan333 from so i am not stealing the story, it's mine

As said it's a fantasy story set in the Forgotten Realms (from the Dungeons&Dragons rpg and it's videogame iterations).
Anyway, comments would be greatly welcome

The first thing Dil'vrae, priestess of Lolth, the Queen of Spiders, did upon awakening was to look around for any would-be assailants. Life for any dark elf was dangerous, but for someone in her position, it was doubly so. Too many prominent figures of their glorious society had been murdered in their very beds...often by those they considered their advisors and loyal underlings.
Loyalty...as if something as naive as that truly existed among dark elves.
The very notion was ridiculous. Nevertheless, one had to rely on somebody...and take the necessary precautions.
With a satisfied smile, Dil'vrae noticed that the room was empty. The spells she had woven around it had either held or hadn't been needed. Good.
With a hearty yawn, the obsidian-skinned woman swung her shapely legs off the silky mattress and stood up, moving slowly, deliberately, sensuously, despite the lack of any audience. She needed none. It was all just for herself. She knew she was beautiful and she reveled in it.
Narcisism was such a common vice among the powerful of her race that it was practically seen as natural. Dil'vrea could not recall having seen even one bedroom of a fellow priestess or house matron that did not at least contain one large mirror, exquisitely crafted, sometimes magical even, just for the sake of its owner watching herself.
Though, she had to admit, few went to such lengths as she did. Every vertical surface in her bedroom was a mirror. And the rest of the room was enchanted so that a single word was enough to turn ceiling and floor into shimmering crystal-clear mirrors as well.
The mirrors existed for moments like this, when she was alone and free to watch and inspect her own body.
A smile crept upon her full lips as the dark elf looked herself up and down in the mirrors. Her body was slender, typical for her race, but it also had its curves exactly where they should be. Most dark elves or elves in general tended towards smallish, perky breasts, but Dil'vrae had been blessed with a truly voluptuous chest, two large, perfectly round dark orbs which were still firm to the touch and quite sensitive, her dark nipples even more so.
Just brushing against them with her dark, slender fingers sent shivers up her spine, making her shudder in delight.
Apart from her eyebrows and the long mane of stark white hair that fell to her hips, her dark body was devoid of hair, making it much easier for her gaze to follow the downward path of her hand towards her slit, the soft, pink inside of which presented a stark contrast to the dark outer folds. Again, a shiver ran through her body as her fingers touched her most intimate spot, but she did not allow them to linger. Looking behind her, seeing her firm, heart-shaped behind in the mirror, she delivered a playful slap to it, loving to see and feel its firmness.
And to think that this body had never been touched by anyone save herself. In the 300 years of her life, she had never had interest in taking any sexual partners. Males were inferior anyway and women...well, if she wanted a woman, she could just lie down with a viper. That would just be as deadly. All women were lying, scheming scum. She should know best, since she was one of them.
No, for sexual purposes, her own two hands and a variety of toys were more than sufficient.
Few things she loved more than to sink her fingers into her greedy wet snatch and rub her inner walls from within, to lick her hand and taste herself afterwards, to watch herself in the mirror, writhing in pleasure under her own gentle and firm ministrations...
Dil'vrae was half tempted to lie down again and take the time to do just that, but right now, she had no time to dawdle. Even she had obligations. And her attendance at the meeting of the ruling council of Houses was one of them.
Sighing, she stepped over to her richly adorned cabinet and began to select the wardrobe for the day.
It was custom amongst those drow females that were in a position of power to wear as little as possible, to clothe themselves in revealing and provocating ways, both to distract others and to prove they did not need any more protection.
However, walking around unclothed was seen as indecent - one of the many paradoxes that ruled the chaotic society of the drow.
As always, the priestess spent quite some time rummaging through her cabinet, cursing that she never seemed to have enough clothes, throwing aside any article that was not to her liking this day until she finally pulled out a combination that suited her whims.
Before dressing, she wondered if she she could a servant to bathe her - and to clean up after her search for the perfect outfit - but decided against it. She wanted to be punctual and had already overslept. Closing her eyes, summoning the power she possessed as a priestess, she muttered a short incantation, sighing softly at the prickling sensation running up her body as all dirt, taint and smell of the last day and night was taken from her.
Once feeling sufficiently clean, she quickly got dressed, taking the chance to run her long, slender fingers over the curves of her body once more, smiling to herself at the perfection she felt.
When everything was in place, she took one last look in the mirror. Yes, it was magnificent.
She'd choosen knee-length boots of shining purple leather, fitting snugly over her legs, the high heels containing a convenient stiletto blade while the tips were pointed enough to make a kick quite painful should she choose to punish an unruly servant or slave.
Her privates were covered by little more than a black leather thong, it's rims adorned with white runes made from diamond dust. Similar runes also adorned her bra which hinted at much more than it actually covered, the cups consisting of a series of black leather straps covering her nipples and some of the flesh of her impressive chest.
Purple long-sleeved gloves, an intricately crafted spider pendant of purest onyx and a long cape of enchanted spider silk completed her attire. Every single item on her body would have costed enough to buy several estates in the lower districts and Dil'vrae was proud of that.
Her mother often remarked that she dressed far above her station - she was still "only" a priestess, not ruling the house yet - but Dil'vrae was good at ignoring such drivel. She had the family coffers at her disposal and sooner or later, it would all belong to her anyway. Ah. the joy of being the oldest daughter of the house...
After another look in the mirror, she nodded to herself, satisfied, before leaving the room to join her mother.
As it happened, Haeliya, the matron of House Tae'fyra was already waiting for her in the great gathering hall, accompanied by the typical retinue of guards and lackeys and - a much less welcome sight to Dil'vrae - her second-eldest daughter Shitha.
To say there was no love lost between the two of them would make a mockery of the very term "understatement". Of the ten daughters of House Tae'fyra, only the two of them had any hopes of ever attaining the position of matron once their mother finally died. And Shitha knew very well that she would never sit on the throne with her older sister still being alive.
So far, Dil'vrae had survived six assassination attempts which were beyond a doubt instigated by her dear sister. Had it not been for the intervention of her mother, Shitha herself would be dead by Dil'vrae's hand by now...but Haeliya had other plans. In her words, being constantly on one's guard constituted the perfect preparation for one day taking the throne. So, Shitha had been spared to continue her plotting.
Quickly stepping down the stairs, Dil'vrae ignored her sister's glare and bowed her head before her mother. Haeliya was still a breathtaking beauty despite her age of 670 years. Age showed in dark elves only very late and even then, it gave many women an ethereal, ghost-like quality as their bodies appeared to become less and less real. The gossamer-like gowns her mother used to wear helped much to accentuate this effect, flowing around her like a specter's shroud, exuding an aura of both transparent beauty and quiet menace.
Where her mother was ethereal, Shitha was cut from a much different cloth. She had spent her time not just at the temple but at the fighting ranges, leading hunts and raiding parties and it showed. She was beautiful, Dil'vrae had to admit that, but in a completely different way. Drow did not acquire the horrible bulging muscles the slave races did but seemed to gain a more supple, fit muscularity.
It might not appear that way but Shitha was able to break an orc's neck with her bare hands without breaking a sweat. Still, she was a crude creature by Dil'vrae's standards, her close-cropped white hair and the scar she'd acquired during one of her hunts - a white line running down one cheek - speaking of a primitive warrior. As far as Dil'vrae had heard, her sister had even taken a few female lovers from those serving under her - a sign of carelessness common to the mind of a warrior, not someone fit to rule a house.
Shitha had disdained her armor, or at least parts of it, wearing instead a chain loincloth and a matching bra, with chainmail rings adorning her legs and arms. Inexpensive, provocative and oh so simple.
" Mother", Dil'vrae said respectfully as she bowed.
" You are late, my daughter", the matron said coolly.
" I am, in fact, not, mother. There is plenty of time left."
" Yes, that might be so. But I expected you earlier and did tell so yesterday. There is the matter of the scheduled hunt..."
Dil'vrae barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. A hunt to acquire fresh sacrifices for their goddess...that meant that she had to work with the male hunters and, even worse, her sister.
Still, her voice was even as she said, " Well, mother...I am sure the slave you sent with the message forgot to tell me and will be punished accordingly. Now, about the hunt..."
" Yes", her mother responded, looking over at Shitha, " the hunt. As you know, it is our turn to procure new sacrifices for the temple. And for us, slaves will not do. We have standards. So, you and your sister and a couple of the most trusted guards will venture out today."
Dil'vrae raised a brow. " Today? That is a tight schedule, mother. The meeting will not be over before the late hours..."
" Oh, it will. Today's agenda is about some rather minor infractions of a fellow house. I do not expect things to last for more than a couple of hours. And if they do...you will, of course, be excused."
Dil'vrae sighed quietly. A council meeting - meaning a bunch of old hags haggling like common merchants - and then a hunting trip with her dearest sister. The future certainly looked bright today...

[GrimReaper333]

As it were, aforementioned future contained six long, arduous days of trekking through the Underdark, the maze of caverns that surrounded their city, hoping to stumble upon lone travellers from other races or the typical foolish group of surface adventurers who considered visiting the dreaded realm of the drow an exciting pastime.
The latter were the most prized hunting trophies, since said surface groups often contained elves, the target of all of the drow's hates and fears, the ones who had cast them and their goddess down, banishing them forever beneath the earth.
Their own group numbered five with Dil'vrae and her sister, the other three being men in the employ of their houses, experts at tracking and silent assasination who were as loyal to the women as any drow could be - which, in the end, only amounted to Dil'vrae knowing she could allow them to walk behind her on occasion.
The same courtesy, however, she certainly did not extend to her sister, whom she always kept at at least three arm's length to avoid any nasty "accidents" involving her sister's heavy warhammer - again, a sign of uncivilised brutishness, though Dil'vrae knew of the weapon's effectiveness and Shitha's skill at handling it.
Even a glancing hit could probably pulverise her skull...and by the way Shitha looked at it and then at her, Dil'vrae's hated sister spent many a long minute thinking about it.
The men kept to themselves, only speaking when reporting back from their scouting trips and Dil'vrae was fine with it. She hated being stuck here in the damp caves, having to sleep in a sleeping bag - although it was enchanted for comfort, of course, and had a soft, velvet inner lining - without any of the comforts of home. The last thing she needed was someone trying to make small talk.
She was surly at first, then testy and by the fifth day, deadly annoyed and she made sure everyone felt it.
Shitha, on the other hand, seemed to revel in it, often whistling the old songs of their youth when they made camp and she took care of her armor and weapons. She had exchanged the revealing fake chainmail for a proper full plate armor, which, being made for a high-born drow, still accentuated her femininity to a certain extent. To Dil'vrae, it spoke of weakness and fear. But then again, her sister was a warrior first and foremost and a mediocre spellcaster at best. She herself had not made any changes to her attire except for a few minor spells which kept it clean and turned her cape into a veritable bulward should she ever face a melee weapon up close.
That was all she needed and she was proud of it.
Her sister merely demonstrated once again why she could never lead a noble house. But fortunately, it would never come to that.
Especially if this "hunt" would go on for much longer, for Dil'vrae was by now irritated enough to seriously think about ignoring her mother's direct orders and cut her sister's throat, if only to stop this incessant whistling!
Fate, however, dealt a different hand, for it was just after they had settled down in a little alcove-like opening that one of the scouts, a young, wiry man whose name Dil'vrae always forgot, came back, sliding into the camp like a shadow flitting across the walls.
" Mistress", he adressed Dil'vrae, bowing to her, " We have found surfacers!"
Dil'vrae nodded before her sister cut in. " Number, sort, equipment?"
The man looked between them, noticing the glare Dil'vrae threw Shitha, unsure whom to adress in order not to get punished. " Answer her", Dil'vrae said after a few seconds of watching him squirm in discomfort, feeling elated that finally these days of skulking and wandering might be over.
" Six, mistress...five men, one woman. The woman looks...elvish, possibly a half-blood. Three of the others are human, the other two have orcish blood. Well-equipped and apparently experienced. The woman appears to be a wizard of some kind, the two half-orcs might be trained fighters or just hired muscle. The two humans are obviously soldiers of some kind, possibly an escort."
An elven girl! Dil'vrae grinned. Finally! If they managed to take her -relatively - unharmed, they could go home in triumph...and Dil'vrae wouldn't have to kill her sister just to have some quiet.
" When will they be close enough for an ambush?"
That was Shitha again, but Dil'vrae was happy to let her work out the tactical details so she just listened for a bit.
" They are not travelling very fast. Maybe in half an hour."
" Then prepare everything. We shall take them and crush any resistance they might offer."

Pretty much everything the drow did came down to surprise. Assasination, poisoning, ambush...the concept of a fair fight simply was not a part of their nature and most likely would never be. And so, when the group of surfacers entered the prepared tunnel, aall five of their soon-to-be-attackers were well hidden behind rocks and stalagmites, the males using their training to remain unseen while in Dil'vrae's case, a little magic did the trick. Shitha fully relied on the sound-muffling magic and dark metallic coloration of her armor to keep her from sight until needed.
Being thus hidden, they had plenty of time to observe the group before striking. The five men were not exactly interesting. The humans, for the most part, appeared to be indeed nothing but hired soldiers or mercenaries, their hardened, scarred faces and well-maintained equipment speaking of experience. The other two were more burly, massive beings whose arms bulged with gross masses of muscle and whose faces were singularly ugly, a mixture of human and the crude features of the slave races. One even had a pair of rather massive tusks jutting from his jaw. Half-orcs, indeed, dumb but possibly quite strong.
They could be sold as slaves or trained as household troops, Dil'vrae thought. All five of them seemed fitting for that role and not much else.
It was the woman that drew more attention and whose presence made Dil'vrae wary.
Long black hair caressed and framed a face that was thin and most definitely elven. Her ears were pointed and she had the narrow-finely-chiseled features common to both elves and drow. Her skin was almost white, like marble and her eyes were so dark they appeared black. Her lips, thin and bloodless as they seemed, had a sour and yet sensual quality to them that would befit a drow matron, as blasphemous as that thought appeared. She was dressed in a finely-crafted robe of blackest cloth with silver rims and golden runic inlais. Around her temple was a simple ivory circlet that gave off a soft glow. She was definitely a magic-wielder, most likely a wizard. She certainly moved like one, almost gliding over the tunnel floor, radiating confidence and power, surveying all as if it belonged to her.
The perfect victim...now they just had to subdue her without accidentially slaying her.
Dil'vrae sent a quick prayer down into the abyssal lair that her goddess called home, asking the dread Queen of Spiders to help them bring ruin to their enemies...and then, it was time.
As they had planned before, the men struck first. Crossbow bolts sailed out of the darkness, catching the men unawares. Two were struck in the throat and died within seconds while the third merely stumbled, his breastplate having caught the bolt without further harm.
Immediately, Dil'vrae strode forward, muttering a quick incantation, feeling the exaltation as the infernal words passed her lips, making the air hum with secret power.
" I'inyasha Xzarr Atunn Lynnjarr Ifg'har Lolth! Xzarr agarr Zzrill kathyrr!"
There was a sharp crack and then a slashing sound followed by an inhuman scream as long, thin spider legs erupted from the earth in a clear line behind the group, spearing one of the two half-orcs, his hot blood gushing onto the ground as he was lifted up by this living barrier.
The surviving human and the other half-orc were met by Shitha, who, with a wild, disgustingly barbaric cry, lunged from behind the stalagmite, her warhammer raised above her head.
There was a pained grunt, the clash of metal on metal and the sound of rapid footsteps, but Dil'vrae could care less. She had set her sights on the woman.
All her instincts told her to rend this elve bitch apart, to vent millenia-old hate upon her, but she kept these impulses firmly in check. They needed her alive. So, she settled for one of the less deadly spells in her arsenal.
Closing her eyes, she summoned a ring of metal, flinging it at the elf to ensnare and paralyse her.
It made a swishing sound as it flew...and then there was nothing but a shower of metal shards...and a smiling elf.
" Nice try. But I hope this was not your best spell", the woman said...in perfect drow!
Feeling her anger rise at hearing her language be profaned by a member of such low a race, Dil'vrae snarled another incantation, sending a swarm of little spiders at the woman, small, otherworldly horrors that could bite through any armor known to mortals. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that her sister had been surprisingly ineffective, having been pushed further and further back by her opponents, almost fighting next to her by now.
The elf stepped back as the spider-tide surged towards her, unleashing a torrent of flame that incinerated the beasts...and then she waited. What was she waiting for? There was no attack, no attempt to harm her...this was strange.
Risking a glance over her shoulder, she snarled at her sister, " I would have expected better from you...was all that time at the fighting range wasted?"
" You should have watched me more often...sister...then you would know I picked up quite a few useful techniques lately...like the spell-breaker!"
And suddenly, her sister whirled around and struck Dil'vrae squarely in the chest.
She should not have been able to hit...Dil'vrae knew that and Shitha knew that...but the moment the warhammer struck, all protective magic around her disappeared in a flash of bright light.
Surprised and unable to defend herself, Dil'vrae folded like a jackknife, dropping onto her knees, clutching chest. She could feel her ribs rub against places they had no right to touch....gasping for breath, she looked up, hoping to at least see the two warriors finish her sister off...
But the fighting had stopped. The warriors had stepped back from Shitha and even the other elf was making no attempt to cast another spell.
" Now that this is done, I demand payment", Dil'vrae heard her sister say...then, one of her own subordinates slammed a club over her head and darkness overtook her.

[GrimReaper333]

Time passed in a fog of sporadic flashes of sensation, followed by periods of darkness. When she was awake, her mind moved with a glacier's pace, shrouded in a fog that couldn't just result from a blow to the head. Apparently, she had been poisoned so her captors didn't have to restrain her much.
She felt little, except for a vague sensation of being moved, a dizzying sense of vertigo...and rage, a wellspring of pure, fiendish rage bubbling in the deepest recesses of her heart. Shitha, that bitch! She had betrayed her...that alone was not surprising...but to another race!
This was low, even for a drow and Dil'vrae swore to herself that her sister would end up bleeding at her feet, begging for her life, her mother's orders be damned.
It was this rage that allowed her to fight the poison enough to regain consciousness on several occasions, allowing her to catch snippets of her captors' conversation.
„ Not sure how long she'll last...“ - the mysterious woman
„ That doesn't have to concern you...“- one of the humans
„ I want to have a go with her!“ - one of the half-orcs
„ In time. No damaging the property before we even arrive. I can't heal“ - the woman again.
„ ...will she comply?“ - one of the humans again, followed by a laughed, „ I sure hope not! Won't be any fun if she does!“from the woman.
Dil'vrae wasn't dumb. She knew there were some surfacers who took slaves just like drow did. The thought of her being subjected to such a fate triggered another burst of white-hot anger again, but there was little she could do. Her hands had been tied together expertly, allowing for no room to perform magical gestures and a foul-tasting lump of cloth had been stuffed into her mouth, secured by leather bands over her lips.
Each time she awoke, she tried to loosen her bonds, but each time her eyes opened, they were firm and strong again.
Someone was making very sure she did not escape. They seemed competent, though the half-orcs appeared to end up a bit on the dumb side. Dil'vrae knew she could use that to her advantage...if the poison actually allowed her to think properly and not at this sluggish pace...
Time lost any meaning to her but she was sure days had gone by when she felt the poisonous stupour lift away from her, allowing her to finally see and hear clearly again.
She had tied to a long wooden plank which was carried on the shoulders of the half-orcs. Her arms and legs bent beneath it, her ankles and wrists tightly bound, her mouth still gagged, she could barely move to ease the painful tension in her muscles. But pain like that she could endure, the humiliation of being carried around like this in what appeared to be an underground city was much worse. Her cheeks flushed with anger, she looked around, the turning of her head practically the only movement she could perform.
The city was a ramshackle affair, built much like those few surface cities she had seen through scrying spells, with many different architectural styles and materials used. It was loud, with screams, shouts, angered yells and even the clash of weapons being omnipresent.
There were people making these sounds, of course...a hodgepodge of races, cultures and demeanors, from the lowly, scab-covered halfling hiding in a dirty corner to the proud, armor-clad orc watching the scene with an amused smirk on his brutish face.
She was sure she could even see a group of drow skulk about a few alleys away, their daggers wet with someone's blood, but the half-orc's progress kept her from taking a closer look.
This must be one of the few havens the Underdark could offer, a place where lawnessness reigned and where everyone was welcome, provided he had the coin of power to stay alive for more than a few heartbeats.
Race, disposition or even, she shudderingly remembered, gender did not matter in these places. Only raw power counted. And Dil'vrae began to slowly notice a feeling of hitherto unknown strength spread through her body, causing her to shiver. She was feeling dread.
If she was sold in such a place, there was no telling where she might end up – as a lab experiment for an insane alchemist, a mindless servant to a necromancer or....in the hands of a drow male.
She grimaced around the gag, trying to suppress the thought. She knew how inventive drow could be when it came to torture...
„ Shhh“, a voice reached her ear and she turned her head to look at the face of the elf-like woman who had so easily deflected her spells in their battle.
Ignoring the venomous glare she received from the drow, the woman put a hand onto Dil'vrae's temple and whispered, „ You'll know where you are soon enough...but for now it is time to go back to sleep...“
The woman hissed a string of inhuman syllables into her ear and Dil'vrae felt her consciousness slip into darkness once more...


Again, her hearing returned before her eyesight did, her eyelids feeling weighted down, as if by lead. As she fought to open them, voices drifted through the fog clouding her mind once more.
„ She's pretty“
„ Bad for her...she'll be a favourite...“
„ Long time since we've seen a drow here...“
„ Look what she's wearing...expensive...probably belonged to a noble house...“
„ Poor girl...“
„ Don't pity her. She's drow, she deserves what she'll get!“
„ Stop that...she's just like us now. She deserves our sympathy and....oh...she's waking up...everyone, step back and let me do the talking, as always.“
All the voices had come from women or girls, it seemed and they had sounded rather...concerned, not as matter-of-fact as her captors. Dil'vrae was confused about this new turn of events but now that she could finally think somewhat clearly again, her mind already raced to contemplate how each new fact she discovered might help her get out of her predicament.
The moment Dil'vrae managed to raise her eyelids, she grimaced, the sudden light stabbing into her sensitive eyes, finding purchase inside her head and settling down as a nagging, throbbing headache.
But she could not allow herself to get sidetracked by such minor trivialities, she needed to find out more about her situation. Forcing her eyes to stay open, she scanned the room in front of her.
There were indeed several women in front of her, all looking at her with a mixture of curiousity, anxiety...and pity, which immediately infuriated her. She needed no one's pity, even though, as she now noticed, she was held upright by manacles holding her hands and feet, forcing them to touch the wall against which she leaned. Still, as she took in the sight in front of her, she did her best to exude an aura of confidence and power...
Her companions in the somewhat large room were not drow. In fact, of the 6 women gathered here, each belonged to a different species, each was exceptionally beautiful, even by high drow standards...and each was dressed in a way that would put even the most daring outfits of a noblewoman to shame.
Directly in front of her stood a being Dil'vrae might not have expected to find in any civilized place...the woman's skin was covered in fine, light brown scales and she wore a black blindfold while the snakes that replaced her hair had been bound together tightly behind her head with a large metal ring. A dark iron collar adorned the medusa's neck. The woman wore what was simply a set of white flaps of cloth arranged in such a way that they covered absolutely nothing while still gently caressing the creature's hourglass figure.
By her posture, Dil'vrae identified her as the leader of the group...whatever such a group might actually accomplish...
Next to her was a much smaller girl, a hahlfling, it seemed. Dark black hair framed a pretty, cute, albeit somewhat sad face, the big round eyes of her looking around as if constantly expecting someone to hit her. She wore a simple tunic made from transparent fabric, allowing anyone to see her petite, yet curvy body in its entirety.
On the medusa's other side stood a being Dil'vrae at first mistook for a human until she noticed the slightly more angular face, the curvy horns on the forehead, barely hidden by a mane of fiery red hair and the tail which was currently wrapped around the woman#s left leg. Apparently, she was a tiefling, a being born from a union between mortal and demon. Her „clothes“, as they were, consisted of exactly four leather straps, two covering her nipples, one pulled upwards so tightly between her legs that it must definitely hurt and a fourth one connecting these. She glared at Dil'vrae with black eyes, almost as if to challenge her.
The fourth one was somewhat strange to look at. Wearing a collar of black iron, much like the others, she appeared to constantly shift from one face to the next, her body always perfectly proportioned yet also changing subtly. She was the only one who was completely naked but apparently not ashamed of it. Her eyes always stayed milky white but the drow knew she could see her.
The other two were not with the group directly, instead being chained to the walls to the left and right much like she herself was.
On the left was an elf with dusky skin, a long, wild mane of auburn hair and a strikingly feral cast to her features, which only helped to accentuate her wild, untamed beauty. Someone had obviously played a joke on her, creating a costume from leaves and branches and dressing her up in it, the „dress“ hiding next to nothing but showing off her primitiveness nicely.
On the right...well, that was a different matter. Apart from the shackles keeping the woman standing with her back to the wall, large iron clamps secured what could only be large white wings to the wall. The woman was tall, easily more than 6 feet, her hair the colour of finest gold while her eyes shone with inner fire. An angel, a creature of pure virtue and good. Someone had taken the being's armor and removed the crotch plate and parts of the chest plates as well so that the armor now protected everything but it's wearer's dignity.
Dil'vrae was confused. What was this place? What was going on here? How could someone have captured an angel? Or, for that matter, a medusa or a shapeshifter?
„ Relax“, the medusa suddenly said, as if guessing her thoughts, „ I will explain everything to you...and I hope you listen well. The last drow we had here did not last a week.“
„ Where am I? Who is the fool that thinks he can treat a high-born this way?“ Dil'vrae spat, leading the medusa to let out an exasperated sigh. „ One thing at a time, dear. As I said, I will explain everything...if you let me. You are in the cellar under the 'Shrieking Rose', the finest and most expensive brothel in the whole of Skullport.“
Skullport...the most wretched place in the entire Underdark, as stories went...where life and unlife were cheap and nothing was impossible...it was not just one of the infamous havens...it was their queen.
„ As for the fool...well, the fools would be the Brotherhood of the Iron Ring and their underlings. Devoted followers of Loviatar, the goddess of pain, they capture slaves to be raped and abused in their brothels so they can channel that pain to their goddess...and make a fine profit from it as well....“
„ That means...I am....“, Dil'vrae began, only to have the medusa nod and cut her off in mid-sentence.
„ A pleasure slave, yes. As are we all.“

[Emily Johnson]

Nice! Very hot.

[GrimReaper333]

Great! sadly, I am a bit at a loss at the moment...i do have a general idea what is to happen but I would love some input and suggestions regarding the actual breaking in of our "heroine"...if anyone can help me there, please do.

[nybarbarian]

i am a huge fan of the forgotten realms books, the Legend of Drizzt is one of my favorite series.

Any way the Forgotten Realms world offers all kinds of nasty creatures to break in the bitchy high priestess, giants, ogres, demons of every sort. i think a training period for the soon to be whore would be in order. A master commanding an assortment of creatures to break down and subdue your "herione." I think a hill giant anally raping the drow or a glebrezu demon using its pincers on her nipples would be a great start.

Either way I will definitely read whatever else you write