Part 13
The web way wars
Chapter 85(orphan)
MR Adolf SEVENSON giggled uncontrollably in his heavy chains as Octavia's fingers relentlessly stroked the soles of his bare feet, wiggling his ankles helplessly in the sturdy metal stocks in Wendy's dark metal dungeon onboard the Nightmare Asylum.
Octavia had been gleefully tormenting him on and off for the last three HOURS as Wendy was away at work, and she showed no indication of EVER stopping!
Adolf was now officially Wendy's husband, which meant he was now a helpless bondage plaything in her dungeon! Octavia was DELIGHTED with the company he provided for her!
Adolf pulled desperately on the chains that bound his wrists high above his head as he sat squirming in the stocks, completely helpless to stop Octavia as she drove him mental!
"Please no more!" Adolf frantically begged her.
"But we are having so much fun! Why would you want me to stop?," Octavia asked mischievously.
"It TICKLES!" Adolf howled desperately.
"Well yeah, that's the WHOLE point," Octavia teased him without stopping.
"STOP!" Adolf pleaded frantically.
"You didn't say the safe word yet," Octavia taunted sadistically, sticking out her tongue at him.
"I don't want to lose my sex privileges! PLEASE just be merciful!" Adolf explained desperately.
Octavia paused sympathetically at these words and left his feet alone.
"THANK YOU!" Adolf panted heavily, heart pounding as he caught his breath.
"YOUR turn Belzevelle!" Octavia said mischievously, to which the securely bound Dark Eldar shook her head frantically.
Adolf was completely naked, as were Octavia and Belzevelle, and the three of them were chained up in one of Wendy's dark dungeon rooms.
Octavia had a very long chain shackled to her ankle, the other end padlocked to a sturdy floor ring, letting her freely walk around but not leave the room. Adolf and Belzevelle were both sitting with their ankles locked in metal stocks and arms chained high above their heads, completely and totally defenceless against Octavia's mischief.
Mistress Wendy alone had the keys to unlock them, but she was away at work, leaving her three submissive playthings trapped like this.
Mistress Wendy was deliberately leaving them together like this to give the three a chance to "bond" with each other, to "play" together as a kinky exercise to let them acclimatise to each other in their new kinky lives together.
Adolf and Belzevelle both had a safe word to make Octavia stop, but they would lose their sex and orgasm privileges tonight if they used it, something they were both loathe to do.
Belzevelle was having a fit of laughter at the moment as Octavia stroked her sides, utterly tormented, but she didn't say her safe word and Octavia didn't stop.
It was a few days now since Adolf's wedding, the two day honeymoon was now over, and Adolf was starting to settle into his new married life as Wendy's submissive husband.
Before the wedding Adolf had been submissive to Wendy, but had had a lot more autonomy to come and go as he pleased. NOW his life was VERY different, he was now a Sevenson HUSBAND!
Adolf had submissively taken Wendy's last name after the wedding, and was now Mr Sevenson rather than Mr Lincoln. He was still not used to his new last name, wasn't really used to any of this.
At the wedding Adolf had given pretty much all power to Wendy to dominate him "as she whimmed", she was the unquestioned boss of him now and he was expected to submit to her whims completely. The sex had been FANTASTIC, but life in the dungeon was still rather challenging at times, for example right now...
Being left chained up at the mercy of the tickle fetish MANIAC Octavia, unable to use your safe word on pain of blue balls, was absolutely SADISTIC! Mistress Wendy really was diabolically cruel!
Belzevelle was going crazy right now, the only break either of them got was when the other one suffered. The dungeon had lots of food packets and water bottles within easy reach of Octavia, who periodically fed and hydrated her two victims. Mistress Wendy had made all three of them crap in a toilet before locking them up, and the floor had drains for any urine. Nothing to justify them leaving all day...
"Can't we just TALK to pass the time?!" Belzevelle gasped with frantic laughter.
"We can talk and tickle at the same time," Octavia offered.
"Belzevelle has a good point, let's just talk," Adolf begged hopefully.
"Safe word?," Octavia pressed sternly.
Adolf and Belzevelle both groaned in despair.
"Unless you say your safe word, you are implicitly consenting to this," Octavia lectured them, obviously quoting someone much smarter than herself.
"We don't want to lose our sex privileges! That doesn't mean we consent!" Adolf implored her.
"Consent works both ways. If you consent then Wendy consents," Octavia parroted back, tickling Belzevelle terribly.
"Wendy said very clearly that I could tickle you both as much as I like unless you say the safe word," Octavia reminded them.
Adolf and Belzevelle moaned in misery at this reminder.
"You will both get your revenge on me soon enough, tomorrow I will probably be restrained as one of you gets to play," Octavia reassured the two submissives.
"I am going to get you SO BAD for this!" Belzevelle hissed at Octavia.
"I look forward to it," Octavia replied sincerely.
"Water break!" Belzevelle pleaded.
Octavia held a water bottle to Belzevelle's mouth for maybe thirty seconds, and let her swallow properly before continuing.
"Do you think Mistress Wendy is finished in Low Commorragh yet?," Adolf asked conversationally.
"Very soon!" Belzevelle cackled ticklishly from Octavia's touch.
"What is she even doing?," Adolf asked.
"Stop tickling me! I'm trying to talk!" Belzevelle squealed distractedly.
"Ok, Adolf's turn again," Octavia agreed happily.
"Oh CRAP!" Adolf cursed as Octavia reached for his defenceless torso!
Adolf howled with laughter as his ribs were mercilessly stroked by the tickle freak, oh Emperor this was TORTURE!
"Ok as I was saying, Mistress Wendy is almost finished in Low Commorragh for the time being, but has other plans in the future," Belzevelle began.
"She is trying to capture enough territory and earning power from slum farmers to trade for vast amounts of foolish gold. She plans to have the Ebony Stiletto trade billions of tons of food surpluses with more distant kabals in exchange for the gold."
"Commorragh has ten thousand years worth of plunder from real space raids, vast amounts of gold is all over the city if you know where to look. Enough to easily fill this entire Nightmare Asylum many many times."
"Even now the Ebony Stiletto has already stockpiled more gold than we can find the room to store, with so much more territory now we have so many farms under our control that we are becoming very VERY rich!"
Adolf couldn't focus on what she was saying, too distracted by Octavia. Adolf felt no sexual desire for Octavia anymore, making this torment even less pleasant!
"Octavia stop!" Adolf pleaded.
"Say the safe word," Octavia insisted firmly.
"Oh Emperor you are so cruel!" Adolf cackled.
"Thanks, I try my best," Octavia replied cheerfully, taking it as a compliment.
Adolf laughed uncontrollably as she energetically stroked his torso all over, Octavia really was a MANIAC!
"This is fun," Octavia said happily as she drove him mad.
***...
Adolf and Belzevelle were both VERY exhausted when Mistress Wendy finally arrived home that evening, this day had been hellish!
Mistress Wendy sauntered arrogantly into the dungeon in her iconic black leather dominatrix outfit, thigh high skin tight black leather high heeled boots clacking on the metal floor.
Octavia stopped squeezing Adolf's legs just above the knees and squealed with excitement, scrambling over to greet Mistress Wendy with excited erotic face licking.
Mistress Wendy kissed Octavia tenderly in greeting for a few minutes, and then easily forced Octavia down to her knees with one hand, slipping aside her own G string and pressing Octavia's face hard against her bared pussy.
Adolf and Belzevelle watched jealously as Octavia got to perform oral on the object of their desire, both clearly wishing it was them to be giving oral.
"How was your day Mistress Wendy?," Adolf asked conversationally.
"Very productive, we now have so much gold in the Ebony Stiletto storehouses, that I am having additional web way gates constructed aboard the ship just to get it onboard fast enough! I have been just behind the front lines, sucking in enemy Eldar souls all day. I feel FANTASTIC!" Wendy replied happily.
"Honestly I have never seen so many cabbages in my entire life! Those slum farmers are amazing how much they produce with just poo and enclosed light boxes!" Wendy added.
"Cabbages?," Adolf asked confused.
"Yep, BILLIONS of cabbages, OCEANS of cabbages, so much cabbages that you could feed an entire hive world for an entire DAY! The Dark Eldar in the newly captured territories are mostly all cabbage farmers, and they grow a LOT!" Wendy confirmed happily.
"You sell the cabbages for gold right?," Adolf asked.
"Yeah, the huge industrial districts all over Commorragh have MASSIVE slave labor workforces that need food to keep generating profits, massive MASSIVE numbers of slaves. The kabals of these districts usually feed them dead bodies and anything else that is cheap, but we are selling the cabbages for cheaper than dead bodies sell for, to guarantee a fast sale," Wendy replied enthusiastically.
Adolf shuddered at the mere thought of what she described!
"Commorragh economics are absolutely FASCINATING, it has been such a wonderful new pleasure to learn all about it. Our librarians are recording absolutely everything they can learn about every facet of Commorragh life, I dare say that a new generation of Sevenson women will do many a PhD thesis on the topic."
"The entire city is desperately overcrowded and often on the verge of starving, these Dark Eldar have found VERY inventive solutions to their food shortages, from ultra fast growing death world vegetables to cannibalism, synthetic nutrients, edible bacteria, just everything you could possibly imagine to keep all the slaves fed."
"We and the Ebony Stiletto have now captured a spherical volume of slums the size of a small PLANET! Just expanding in 3 dimensions in every direction in an ever widening sphere as quickly as our forces can secure them! We are wiping out THOUSANDS of petty rival slum kabals, none can stand before us!" Wendy boasted jubilantly.
Adolf personally thought that that sounded an awful lot like simply an unnecessary genocide of historic proportions, but he deliberately ignored this suspicion...
"The farmers just give you their crops?," Adolf asked curiously.
"Well... Not entirely "willingly", armed troops "persuade" them to give over a rather generous portion of their harvests," Wendy chuckled.
"Won't the farmers starve if you do that?," Adolf asked.
"Um... They won't ALL starve..." Wendy offered feebly.
"Please keep as many alive as possible my love, my own family comes from the slum classes of the Imperium, I know first hand how hard slum life can be," Adolf humbly requested.
"Well... I guess that they are more valuable alive... I will look into letting them keep, oh say 10 percent of their harvests rather than 5," Wendy indulged with a tone of extraordinary generosity.
Adolf nodded softly, that was at least a start he guessed.
"I think that we have captured about as big an area as we have the manpower to control, we can't expand much further with our current convict armies, we are quickly running out of men," Wendy added, moaning as she squirted all over Octavia's face.
"How is that POSSIBLE?!" Adolf exclaimed in shock.
"The captured territories are just THAT vast that even our billions of convict allies are only just enough to hold it all. The Ebony Stiletto kabal is greatly increasing their own recruitment drive to take over the manpower burden, but it will take time." Wendy explained sadly.
"The Nightmare Asylum will be ready to leave soon, we just have to fill up the holds with Low Commorragh gold. Then we can do a warp jump to the nearest deep space web way gate wide enough for a ship as large as the Nightmare Asylum to fit, then we will be taking a shortcut home through the web way," Wendy reassured him.
"Enough about MY day, how was YOUR day?, Did the three of you bond with each other?," Wendy changed the subject.
"My day was complete torture, Octavia was absolutely relentless!" Adolf admitted.
"Yes, it was complete hell!" Belzevelle agreed.
"It was SO much fun! We had a great time playing all day. They didn't say the safe word all day so I didn't stop," Octavia said cheerfully from Wendy's crotch.
"Well the fun is not over yet, now it's MY turn to play with you playthings," Wendy purred sadistically!
Adolf and Belzevelle gulped as Wendy cruelly sauntered towards them...
***...
While Wendy Sevenson was gleefully torturing her screaming submissive playthings, Choppy Tits and the other convicts and demon hosts were performing extremely dangerous front line garrison duty.
Choppy Tits was several months pregnant now, and completely butt naked as she roosted on a dark decrepit balcony, sitting on watch with only her shoddy aluminium lasgun for a weapon.
Choppy Tits was part of a small platoon guarding this particular strategically placed slum skyscraper, a platoon that was far from adequate to defend their current location.
Beyond this skyscraper was enemy territory controlled by rival kabals, experienced hard eyed killers who would kill them dead in a firefight!
The Sevensons didn't have enough Slaaneshi psykers and champions and other similar individuals who could suck out Dark Eldar souls at long range, Choppy Tits and the other demon hosts could drain only those that she could actually get within a few meters of!
The Ebony Stiletto kabal territory was now the volume of an entire planet, far FAR too big for the psykers to be everywhere at once to defend all the territory front lines all at the same time. The Sevensons had bitten off more than they could chew, and this was extremely dangerous for poor grunts like Choppy Tits...
The last platoon casualties had been a mere hour ago, and they had yet to be reinforced to replace these losses.
The platoon currently numbered approximately 30 individuals. Slightly more than half were a mixture of convicts and demon hosts, maybe ten platoon members were undead Eldar skeletons controlled by the fell necromancer Violet Smith, and the tiny remaining handful were locally recruited half born slaves who had wanted to become members of the Ebony Stiletto kabal.
Choppy Tits was currently "mentoring" one of these Dark Eldar recruits, a scrawny male youth who had clearly never used a gun before in his life.
Choppy Tits couldn't remember how to say the recruit's name, so just called him "Cunt" as an affectionate nickname. Cunt was dressed only in rags, and was currently armed only with an aluminium lasgun due to weapons shortages.
The Sevensons and the Ebony Stiletto had been greatly struggling to supply so many billions of troops with guns and ammunition, especially with the massive recruiting drive for new half born kabalite warriors. The Sevensons had HEAPS of guns and ammo, but most of it was utter crap like stub guns and shotguns, hardly military grade firearms.
The Ebony Stiletto kabal was mass producing splinter rifles and their ammunition crystals, but the convicts were commandeering most of these superior weapons, passing on their old shoddy lasguns to the newer recruits.
Choppy Tits' platoon was right at the end of the supply line, and had nothing but lasguns and crap like stub pistols (,with very limited ammo). It wasn't exactly good for morale...
Choppy Tits used her daemonic senses to cautiously survey the surrounding squalid slums, tense for the slightest hint of danger. All seemed quiet and calm...
"I bet I can hit that wind turbine over there, right in the middle first shot," Cunt wagered childishly.
"Isn't that turbine generating like power or something?, It's doing something useful, you might break it," Choppy Tits said in disapproval.
Cunt ignored her and fired a bright red laser beam at it...
The beam missed it's mark and instead burned off one of the turbine blades. The turbine only had three blades to start with, and with one now missing it struggled to spin at all!
"You broke it you idiot! That turbine was powering our lasgun power packs!" Choppy Tits hissed at the fool.
"I think this sight is broken, I aimed the shot perfectly," Cunt whined defensively.
"Go get a slave to fix it at once you fool," Choppy Tits ordered the imbecile.
"Fine, I will," Cunt replied and skulked off to bully a local into fixing the damage he caused.
Choppy Tits sighed, this really was a SHIT posting. To think that the supply lines would be stretched so thin that they needed crappy local wind turbines just to recharge their lasguns!
These farming slums were SO poor that they couldn't even afford a single plasma generator to power all the light boxes they grew crops in, they instead had set up tiny little crude wind turbines literally everywhere that had the slightest breeze of wind! Even by the standards of IMPERIUM hive slums these Dark Eldar slums were utterly destitute!
Choppy Tits soon saw a miserable looking local climbing up the outside of the adjacent building to repair the turbine, holding the lost blade, a pair of short sheet metal off cuts, and a container of some sort of home made glue.
The slave easily stopped the barely spinning turbine with his hand, and used the glue and the two off cuts to fix the blade back in place, albeit now slightly heavier than the other two blades.
Within five minutes the turbine was spinning once again, with a noticeable distinctive wobble from the uneven weight of the blades. At least it was spinning fast again, that was the main thing. Without power they had no ammo, and without ammo they were dead.
Choppy Tits was just starting to relax when Cunt returned, this time with several friends...
"My friends here want to join the kabal too," Cunt informed Choppy Tits.
"Talk to the platoon leader," Choppy Tits dismissed.
"The platoon leader is dead, I think that you are the leader now," Cunt informed her!
"Wait WHAT?! No no no, I can't possibly be the leader, I don't want to deal with all that shit!" Choppy Tits exclaimed in horror.
Choppy Tits immediately stormed off towards the room that now acted as the temporary platoon command centre, followed by Cunt and his mates.
Choppy found the command centre looking suspiciously shot up, by what clearly looked like a lasgun...
"What did you DO?!" Choppy Tits exclaimed at Cunt.
"Nothing..." Cunt said unconvincingly.
"Well then, if I am really in charge then I GUESS your mates can all join the kabal," Choppy Tits said wisely, not being a complete idiot.
The mates all cheered.
"I actually have a LOT of other friends who want to join..." Cunt said dangerously.
"As many as you like, all are welcome!" Choppy Tits agreed frantically.
...
...
...
A few hours later Choppy Tits was feeling a bit overwhelmed as her platoon rapidly approached the size of a small regiment!
Every new local recruit had local friends of their own who wanted to join, and Choppy Tits was too afraid of being murdered to say no to any of them. The platoon was completely out of guns to arm so many people, but the recruits just kept on coming regardless!
Thousands of the new kabal members were now fashioning long blades for themselves in place of firearms, and some were even fashioning crude muskets and crossbows!
Choppy Tits was currently on the vox desperately trying to get fresh shipments of guns and ammunition from anyone who could spare them, but other platoons were apparently experiencing similar "problems" with overly ambitious new recruits...
Choppy Tits was no general, but this did not seem like an "ideal" situation. How the fuck would they arm and supply an exponentially growing unruly mob of people?, Even worse, how the fuck would they CONTROL this many people as a unified force without fragmenting into innumerable warring factions?!
Choppy Tits was then introduced to yet MORE eager new recruits...
This was bad!
***...
Dradros the hellion sneered coldly as he stealthily surveyed the distant position of the despicable Ebony Stiletto traitor kabal. Around him hovered fellow hellions of the massive "Black Feet" hellion gang.
The Ebony Stiletto kabal were traitors to the entire Eldar race, vile scum who had joined forces with the great enemy Slaanesh!
Even by Dark Eldar standards that was completely despicable!
These upstarts had just exploded out of nowhere in an unstoppable tide, with terrible rumours of Slaanesh followers aiding them in battle with terrible powers, reducing entire kabals to parched bones and even reanimating the dead with necromancy!
Well the hellion gangs and their wych cult allies were not going to stand for this, not in THEIR town! Take that kind of shit outside of Commorragh, it wasn't welcome in here!
"How many?," asked hellion succubus Brahurst, leader of Dradros' squad of hellions.
"In yonder building?, over 2000 hostile combatants, mostly poorly armed half born," Dradros told him with a sneer of contempt for the foe.
"So many?, We will need the wyches and reaver jetbikes to help," Brahurst cursed.
Dradros got on the communicator immediately and called for massive reinforcements from the "Menstrual Sirens" wych cult, allies of the Black Feet hellion gang.
The reinforcement was FAST, really REALLY fast! Within two minutes of calling them the lightning fast wych cult was arriving in supersonic raider craft and jetbikes, Dark Eldar at their most fast.
The hellions didn't even greet them, but merely gunned their sky board engines to reach the building even faster than the wych cult could.
The combined force struck the building like fanged lightning, reaching it faster than their sounds could precede them, taking the foe with complete and utter surprise.
Dradros soared through an open window with blistering speed, his bladed sky board slicing through crowds of people like a scalpel, cutting them in half with terrible speed.
The surprise was total as he and his allies killed as many as possible as quickly as possible, the surprise element would not last for long so it had to be milked for all it's worth while it lasted.
Dradros pumped his veins full of combat drugs, and time seemed to slow to his perception, seeing the entire world in slow motion.
The enemy barely moved before his board sliced them in half, too slow to react to him.
Dozens fell to him alone, this was too easy!
The enemy were swinging knives at him, he dodged them effortlessly in his drugged state, thrilling from the exhilarating speed.
Crude muskets were being fired now...
Dradros was hit in the chest of his armoured body glove by a heavy musket ball, causing extreme pain in one of his ribs.
His rib was broken by the force of the deflected impact!
Dradros cursed as he was hit in the shin bone by another musket ball, his LEG was BROKEN!
Dradros slumped off his sky board as his leg gave out under him, and managed an emergency deceleration to stop him being pasted against a wall.
Dradros fell hard to the floor, and held himself flat against the floor to let his comrades pass over him without killing him.
Other hellions were being dismounted now, hit by a wide variety of small arms fire and even thrown spears!
The enemy were regrouping now and holding up long bits of rebar like pikes in the narrow corridors of the building, skewering hellions on the lethal metal bars!
Dradros snarled and pulled out his splinter pistol sidearm, not going down without a fight regardless of his broken leg.
The feminine shouts of wyches could be heard in other parts of the building, and reaver jetbikes were screaming outside, endlessly circling the building to gun down any who tried to flee.
Dradros used his stout hellion glaive like a walking stick, and tried to move with his broken leg, heading towards the sounds of the wyches as his best chance of survival.
Enemy warriors lunged at him with their knives, stabbing him several times in the abdomen!
Dradros screamed in agony and shot his attackers with his pistol, gunning them down like vermin as knives stuck out of his belly!
Dradros pulled out the knives and desperately attempted to push his ruptured intestines back in! Oh Khaine he was DYING!
Dradros limped onto his sky board and sat on it, piloting it towards the nearest window to try and escape.
Dradros was stabbed several more times by enemy warriors before he finally reached a window, and gratefully flew away to seek immediate medical attention from his distant hellion gang safe house.
Dradros wasn't sure how he managed to stay conscious the entire journey, but he somehow made the entire excruciatingly slow trip, and staggered into the safe house.
The safe house building was currently populated by a small gaggle of reserve forces of the Black Feet gang, mostly fucking their girlfriends and boyfriends on couches in the public room at the moment. Dradros yelled desperately for medical attention.
Hellion gangs were not like the cut throat kabals, and actually lifted a finger to care for their own members. Dradros was VERY thankful for this fact as he was sedated for emergency field surgery!
***...
Dradros was in terrible pain but at least alive as he sat recovering in the safe house after his lengthy surgery.
Around him sat wounded from not only the hellions but also the wyches as well. They had been DEFEATED!
The enemy had taken EXTREMELY heavy casualties from the attack, but after the most heavy fighting imaginable they had very narrowly won through sheer attrition. The two thousand enemies had turned out to be more like SIX THOUSAND enemies in reality, a rather significant underestimate on the part of the hellions!
The attack force had numbered a few hundred at most, just not enough against such large numbers of foes.
The next time they attacked they would do it properly and use beast masters and mercenaries to soften up the enemy first!
This was NOT over yet!
***...
