Summary:
How does a woman of noble birth end up a courtesan? How does a creature made to be perfect hide the fact he is not from a telepathic race? The hunt for the Adversary will bring together two unlikely people - a Half-Elf and an Illithid - and draw them into a never ending spiral of time, lust, and the darkest emotions that make us human... or not.
Warning: contains emotionally abusive situations, BDSM, rape and many morally questionable situations - but no tentacle porn, despite what you might expect.
I give you instant lemons this chapter! *makes magical lemon appearing noise something like brrrrrring* Lemons! And many more to follow in this story...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
now
a warning:
this book is fictional, or at least, takes place in a dimension far removed from our own. the characters within are therefore, not real, so far as you will ever meet them, and perhaps you should be glad for that.
the relationship of the main characters begins as a very unhealthy one. i do not condone starting, staying in, or promoting relationships that are abusive. although BDSM in and of itself is not abusive, sometimes it is used by one person to control another, as in this story. to Dominate without love, or guidance, but out of a need for power and self-fulfillment without any regard to their partner, is inherently wrong, and is abuse.
this story contains things that might be considered triggers to some, including triggers for rape, abuse, and other things that draw on many dark emotions - things that many of us have experienced.
we all slow down to stare at car wrecks, which is why this story exists.
but please make sure any real life bondage or Domination, submission or sadomasochism, (or any other interpersonal dynamic play,) takes place within the confines of healthy, respectful relationships, and that boundaries are clear before you begin any sort of play.
and whether you play at, or pretend to be in a less than loving relationship behind closed doors, with the full agreement of the other person, with lines fully drawn before you've even begun…
well.
that's entirely up to you and your partner now, isn't it?
thank you for playing safe.
~the author
Chapter Management
-1- In Which We Meet The Jewel
Summary:
Laena's client is late. A man wakes alone in the dark. A courtesan accepts the challenge of a game and reaps the rewards therein.
Chapter Text
BEYOND TIME AND ABOUT FIVE YEARS AGO
Fathoms deep beneath the earth and centuries ahead of now, the man awoke in the dark to the voice of one who was like a god.
Perfect... yes... He is absolutely perfect. A fusion of human and Illithid that will put all the others to shame. Such strength. Such power. The voice echoed loudly in the confines of his pounding skull... why did his head ache so?
"He is nearly complete, Master," another voice said, aloud. "Will he be better than the last?"
We do not create imperfections, the second voice but out, still inside his mind. Then the voice softened with sickening glee. Isn't that right, Tu'qou'huq'ua?
The man knew, instinctively, that was his name. But he was not always called that. There was another, before this. Before the dark earth had swallowed him whole, before the wriggling thing had been placed in his head and the feeling of being torn apart from the inside out - he screamed in horror at the memory. But his voice no longer echoed around the chamber as it had in the past weeks. It echoed only in his head.
The first voice laughed, low, cruelly. It is a stubborn one, still holding on to its human memories. No matter. Soon, they will all be gone. All that will be left, all that will remain, is that which is Illithid. It hesitated, and the man felt the slightest brush of a clawed hand where his hair had been - only now it was smooth skin.
And then the low hum growing in pitch and volume as the changes swept through him again. The evil thing that was like a god… The man understood, then, that he would become just like it.
He began to scream again, and again, and again as he begged anyone that could hear - Please!
Help me.
-1- In Which We Meet The Jewel
Long Ago
How, you might ask, does a woman of noble birth end up a whore?
Just as the green summer inevitably slips into the white ice winter, all things end. My time as nobility was a shining, beautiful moment of childhood - stripped away the instant I ended up in Carnyricyk, deep beneath the earth. And like many subterranean things, I never expected to see the sun again, any more than I expected to be addressed as a lady. Changes were coming with the new tide of pilgrims from the Surface, and I was one of the first to see them.
"Oi! You. You can't loiter here." I turned a head lazily, a practiced motion, to stare down the battered and grey Drow that had so rudely addressed me. Perhaps he hadn't seen my face, because once my head was turned, he bit his tongue.
"Apologies. You're Laqualun's, aren't you? Apologies." He bowed and stepped back.
I snapped my fan closed and stared back at the street. Late. My appointment was late. It's rude to keep a lady waiting. I tsked and started down the road. A new group of from the Surface had recently come down to do trade, and they goggled at me as I passed.
"… The Jewel of the Underdark?"
"…Blonde hair."
"…Her ears. Is she half-Eladrin?"
The voices were enough to tell me they had already heard tale of me. As well they should have.
"Miss! Miss Laena!" A page scurried up beside me. "Word has come from Lady Laqualyn- you're to hurry back home! The guest has arrived."
"What? At home? But - no! He was supposed to meet me here!"
The page shrugged. He was too young and rebellious for respect. "That's what she said, miss. Good day!" He ran off, and I cursed as soon as his tiny black-curled head had run around the corner.
I started home as quickly as I could, though, because it would not do to keep a client waiting. "Miranda!" I whispered as soon as I was inside the door. "Miranda! My perfume, quickly!" I was a slave, yes, but I had slaves of my own now. Be a courtesan for ten years, and find you can gain all sorts of friends and enemies in the world. Or slaves of your very own, bought and paid for by your own Mistress. My current issued girl, a young Wood Elf that was surprisingly loyal to me despite all of Husband's efforts to make her otherwise, ran up and spritzed me gently on my pulse points, looking nervous.
"Mistress is angry, Miss Laena. She doesn't know why he came here instead. But he's already been waiting."
"I'll manage," I whispered, and touched the girl softly on the hair. "Thank you for your concern. I do appreciate it. And no need to worry, I shall be just fine."
The girl bowed and moved off, adjusting my robes behind my so they flowed just so. I knew they would look foreign and glamorous, which was the latest in Underdark fashion. I had helped start the trend. I glided forward, in the manner taught to me by Mistress, so the robes danced over my heels like a rolling wave, and approached the back chamber that was the area before my quarters. There was Mistress, twisting her hands together. Her dark, almost purple skin was smooth, and there were barely any lines on her face, although she was already past 37 years of age. Her cold grey eyes surveyed me, and her normally perfect, black updo done in haste - she had been interrupted at her music again. By this customer.
"Eladrin! You're late!" She had slipped into the old 'insult', but in some ways, it had become a term of affection between us. She quickly studied my robes and shook her head. "No. Too light on you. You look like a dead fish. Wear the red one." She yanked it from a hanger, already waiting, and waved to the doorway where Miranda skulked just out of sight. She rushed forward to assist me in removing the layers of robes, belts, and ornaments that had become my calling card for months now. "Nothing underneath. Just the outer robe and the belt," Mistress said.
Miranda and I exchanged looks. The client was either young, or one that seemed eager, if Mistress wanted me to wear so little. I stripped down, nakedness entirely meaningless to any of us. "What's his type?" I asked as Miranda added more perfume to my body.
"Not sure," Mistress said. "He's a difficult read. Just be yourself, if you still remember who that sweet and stupid girl was. I think he's from the surface. You can adjust as necessary. But you'll be cleaning my boots with your tongue tonight if you don't make this client happy. "
"Yes, Mistress," I said, immune to her idle threats by now. There was not a chance he would be displeased.
"Do you know how much gold he paid for today?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Incredible. It was well worth the move to the outskirts. We are getting much better clients than when we lived in the center of town, competing with all the brothels and street whores." Mistress sighed contentedly, then slapped my ass. For luck. "Get in there and pleasure him like he were the Queen of the Drow."
"Yes, Mistress." I smiled - I couldn't help it - and arranged my face to appear neutral as I entered the room. Remembering the girl I had been, the one that loved flower blossoms and autumn leaves and deep green forests, I took a deep breath, and longed for home.
Inside, the room had been draped with scarves, lightly scented with incense. It dripped with pools of candlelight, perfectly spaced, so the bed would be draped just so with light: to tease, to titillate. The client himself sat in the spot I least expected, far in the dark. It took me a moment to find him, as I thought the room empty for a moment. I could not make out his form. If he was as tall as the ceiling or as wide as the wall, I did not know. I kept my voice light, hiding my fear. "Are you one of those visiting from above?"
He stood up, and for the briefest of moments, I thought I saw strange movement near where his head was... Something that did not belong there, like the undulating movement of a snake's head... Then, with a shiver, it was gone. He leaned forward a little, and the outline of his form was human, male, and just a bit taller than myself. His face was not handsome, nor ugly, but average, with perhaps a stronger nose than most, and a chiseled jawline that was perhaps the most attractive thing about him. The strange movement I had seen would have been too tall in height for his head. Just a trick of the light. I sighed in relief.
He was still, and silent as he casually sat on the edge of the bed then arranged himself up, against the pillows. The candlelight flickered across his features. I always had thought there was something terrible waiting for me in the darkness, ever since I had spent my first nights in the Beneath, chained outside. And here, now, again, I felt as though there were something horrible lurking just out of sight, beyond the edges of the half light on his face.
"Are you wearing anything beneath that robe?" His voice was soft. Mid-range. Soothing.
"No," I said.
"Good. Untie it - but do not take it off. Then, approach the bed."
I removed my robe, weaving a delicate hand across the pale strip of flesh that widened as I eased the knot undone. "Does the sight please my lord?"
He did not respond, was silent. Is he a shy one I will have to coax every step of the way? Really? What halfwit lord with no bedroom experience could afford me? Shouldn't he have gone to some common whore first?
Or was he just bored? Seen it all already, and I was just a new toy?
"I hear you have quite the voice," he said. "Entertain me."
I sang something low and sensual, further pulling the robes from my form until they fell behind - a red cloak. I climbed carefully onto the bed, above him, undoing the buttons of his shirt and his pants. He did not attempt to stop me. Perhaps he *is* enjoying himself more than I imagined.
I admired his pale and soft flesh, so unlike the typical clients I saw everyday. It reminded me of home, and the Eladrin - not that I had been old enough to see any naked male back then. Scant hair on his chest, almost hairless, really. He would have had it removed, then. And as to his member...
Well. That is something beautiful to behold. I grinned. And judging by its current state, he did like what he saw.
I moved to take it in my mouth, licking up his shaft and taking his head between my lips, swirling the tongue on his tip as if he were a shaved ice to be enjoyed. But he stopped me, lifting my chin with a long finger. My hair ornament, covered will small bells that rang with every movement, chimed just then. He stared at it, his other hand moving up to caress it gently. "Wherever did you find such a beautiful ornament? And made of such odd metal?"
"I've always had it," I said. "Since I was young. It belonged to my mother, I think." I did not know why I did not make up some exotic story for my guest. The truth seemed terribly boring, and yet, I did not even think to lie.
His hand hesitated on my hair for another moment, before he let it go. "Laena. Let us play a little game tonight. Do you like to orgasm?"
I was caught by the question. Not one asked of me on a daily basis. "Yes, I do, my lord, as would anyone."
"Then the rule of the game tonight is this - you may come tonight, as many times as you wish. But you will keep count, and you will thank me. And you will call me My Lord throughout. Understood?"
I paused. Where was the catch? Where was the part where he hurt me - as so many did? But I nodded. Why question a gift? Desires, and pleasure, truly were gifts in life. "Yes, my Lord."
"And Laena?" his lips quirked into a half smile. "No pretending. I will know if you are faking. Don't ask how. Now sit back. I want to look at you." I sat back on the covers, onto my trailing robe, and seductively spread my legs, exposing all of myself to him, rolling back my shoulders to raise my breasts up to height. His hands were exploratory... curious... trailing across my body tantalizingly to follow my curves. As though learning them. "Interesting," he said. "Very interesting."
And then, he fingered me - almost without preamble, without any sort of hesitation, or question. My mouth opened, and although it was not the most skilled touch I had ever experienced, for whatever reason, it was unbearably pleasurable.
"Oh gods..." I said. My skin was on fire. It was as though my body had suddenly turned from its normal, cautious state, to one of extreme arousal.
"That's right. Tell me how it feels."
"It feels - it feels - " I cried out as I orgasmed faster than I ever had over the past few years, shuddering around his fingers. I clamped my legs together, but he forced them back apart, staring into my wide and surprised eyes.
"Don't fight it," he told me.
"One." I said, when I could breathe at last. "Thank you, my lord."
The next hour was a blur.
H learned all my secrets. If it didn't seem like I would orgasm, he would experiment until I did. It felt a bit like a project, actually, carried out by a scientist. Perhaps he wanted to learn a few tricks for the noblewomen back home.
Regardless of the "why", I was ecstatic. I had never fully explored my pleasure before, because it hadn't mattered. Near the end, I was blissfully riding him like a young virgin experiencing her first orgasms, eyes closed and moaning loudly, truly.
He was gentle. He was not rough. I had never experienced a client like him - not since whomever it was that had bought my virginity all those years ago. Of course, this was not him. I had been blindfolded at the time, but a girl remembers the feel of the first cock to grace her body, and this man was different. The only similarity was the kindness and weird abruptness with which he treated me.
And... The disinterest?
I realized, as I was lying on the sheets beside him, the cool indifference with which he was studying my form. Despite how hard he had been - despite the fact he had also orgasmed with me at the last, he was somehow unaffected by it. Almost acting on instinct, and without a shred of feeling.
I lifted my head up, to meet his gaze. "Clean me off," he ordered, his voice less quiet now. I retrieved a towel Mistress left for the purpose and did so. And he was up and moving away from me. Even before I could assist, he was already dressing, and I stood awkwardly, the robe no longer on me, holding the soiled towel in midair before my naked body.
He looked at me, adjusting his collar. "Water?" He said, almost demanding.
I dropped the towel and went to reach for the pitcher... And felt the color suffuse my cheeks as I realized it was gone. "I - uh - give me a moment, it must have been left in the hall."
"No water? What sort of a whore are you to be unprepared? Go and fetch it now, or else I might have to punish you on your return."
I ran out the door, surprising Miranda, who flew away from the doorframe. I suspected she might have been listening in. "Miranda! Water!"
Her face went white. "Oh, miss, I forgot!"
"Just give it to me now!"
Miranda grabbed the full pitcher from the top of the nearest dressing table and I grabbed it, slamming the door between us.
Seemingly unflustered without, although my heart pounded within, I grabbed a nearby empty glass and poured it to the brim, shaking. I handed it to him. "My apologies, my Lord. My servant was lax."
He said nothing. He merely stared, sipping at the water. He held it for a moment, staring at me. Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, I was suddenly soaked with the remaining contents of the glass. "I will visit you again," he said, his voice strangely courteous, and exited the room.
My hair dripped rivulets down my bare skin, my mouth open wide in surprise as I stared at the closed door.
What wasthat?
Notes:
I do not own Dungeons and Dragons, the Illithid or anything thereof. I am in the process of making this into an original story, set in a different world, and the day I finally finish it, this story will disappear from the internet. Until then, I hope to share with you a little of my twisted ideas. I hope you enjoy them.
Thank you all for reading my work! I will be posting the next chapter very soon. Eventually, I will be posting the new chapters early on Archive of my Own, and my website.
These lemons were light - they will get more interesting later.
I bring you T'qou in the next chapter.