ENSLAVED BY THE DROW (M+/M) *DARK EROTICA* CHAPTERS 1-5

[thespy]

Im not very familiar with DnD, but i am with fantasy, and this story really sparked my interest, i like seeing you take risks and different creative directions on your story. cant wait too read more of Elias' plight and what awaits him.

[bondagefreak]

THANKS FOR THE VOICED INTEREST & SUPPORT, GUYS!

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER. ENJOY!

@Guardianbound @Ossassin @ChairBoy @Pup Wingletang @Tsuhaya @socksniffer27 @gag1195 @Redman @blackbound @DeeperThanRed @lah93 @Bound Down @OrdinaryWorld @KidnappedCowboy @thespy @Socksbound

______________________________________________

* QUICK REFERENCE GLOSSARY *

* Drow - Dark elves, bitter enemies of the elves that live up on the surface. Known for their sadism and cruelty.
* Duergar - Subterranean grey dwarves. Slavers known for their craftsmanship and smithing skills.
* Lolth - Evil goddess of the drow, also known as Queen of Spiders and Lady Lolth.
* Matron Mother - The matriarch at the head of a noble house. Typically, a high priestess of Lolth.
* Menzoberranzan - Holy city of the drow. Small by human standards. Population: 60,000 (20,000 drow/40,000 slaves)
* Underdark - The sunless caverns, tunnels and caves far below ground, much like we have on Earth.

[bondagefreak]

* AUTHOR'S NOTE *

GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.

ENSLAVED BY THE DROW

CHAPTER 3 - HOUSE DRUU'GIIR

Inside the mighty throne room of Menzoberranzan's fourteenth House, the air was thick with incense and menace. Elias and his stout handlers cautiously stepped onto the black marble floor. The towering double doors groaned shut behind them, sealed by guards in obsidian armour, bearing spears with curved blades and helmets shaped like spider heads.

Before Elias stretched a large chamber, lavishly adorned yet so very dark and threatening. At the far end, upon a raised dais of carved onyx, sat the undisputed ruler of the house, Matron Si'nafay Druu'giir.

The Matron Mother's throne was a grotesque marvel – a bizarre fusion of bone and petrified spider limbs. Its high back was crowned by a fan of petrified webs, but more than anything, it was the crown sitting atop Si'nafay's head that drew Elias's momentary gaze - a circlet of ebony spider legs, their dagger-shaped tips matching the matriarch's fang-like finger nails.

A pearl-coloured coiffure trailed down atop the rich vestments that clung to the Matron's shapely figure, perfectly framing the exposed portion of her very generous breasts. Though she looked not a day over forty years of age, the voluptuous matriarch was well into her fifth century. Her beauty was stunning, matching the frightening allure not only of the throne room but of the cavern-city itself. Terrible and beautiful, both at the same time.



Si'nafay sat with the stillness of death, her long fingers gently tapping over the armrests of her throne even as her red eyes scanned the kneeling procession. At her flanks stood three equally attractive women; her daughters – Zesstra, Lilistra and Vara – all of them devout priestesses of Lolth, with the eldest and most fervent of the three having recently ascended to the rank of high priestess. It was the highest honour one could achieve in this city, and much like the rest of the Spider Queen's clergy, it was reserved entirely for women.

Not far from the Matron and her three daughters loomed a fifth imposing figure, this one less lavishly adorned but every bit as menacing. The Weapons Master of House Druu'giir - a mountain of a male with hair shaved short at the sides, a small silver ring running through his nose and stern features so sharp they looked as though chiselled from stone.

He stood to the left of the brazier-lit chamber, one hand clenched tight around a vicious-looking three-pronged spear, whilst his fiery eyes scanned the newcomers with the unwavering discipline of a trained killer.



The duergar leader shifted uneasily as he cautiously approached the raised dais. He cleared his throat, though he did not speak. All three of his comrades - and their captive - remained kneeling several steps behind him. The silence that followed stretched long and sharp, like a blade held midair just before the killing blow. The tension was palpable.

Then Si'nafay spoke, her voice far lower and more silken than anyone might expect - too smooth to be comforting.

"So. This is the tribute you bring before me?" she spoke, causing the duergar to spout a number of excuses before finally bidding his aides to unveil the trinket-filled crates. The gems were hardly without worth, but they were not the expected payment.

The crowned matriarch said nothing to that effect, but the dangerous look in her gleaming red eyes left little to the imagination. She was wholly unimpressed. Unimpressed with the excuses she'd been given and unimpressed with the gleaming trinkets they'd brought her. Her icy gaze finally narrowed in on the pale human. Slowly. Dangerously. And for a moment, only the hum of arcane wards filled the high-ceilinged throne room.


The silence did not last. First daughter Zesstra brashly stepped forward from her place beside the ornate throne, her crimson gaze ablaze with fury. The high priestess's voice rang out, shrill and venomous, echoing loudly across the cavernous hall.

"You insult us!" she hissed, her voice rising to a near shout. "House Druu'giir will not stand for such insolence! Matron Mother, we must send a message to their settlement. Let us flay the very skin from their b-"

Then "Silence!"

The words cracked through the hollowed chamber like a whip. Matron Si'nafay's dangerous glare flicked towards her eldest daughter, causing the high priestess' voice to die out mid-sentence and causing the throne room to fall silent once more.

The fury in Zesstra's eyes now matched the sting of being publicly silenced. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and her posture grew noticeably more rigid as she trembled with indignation. The five-headed snake whip sitting at her hip hissed and writhed, mirroring the high priestess' rage and leaving little doubt as to her good standing with Lolth. Only the most fervent of priestesses got to wield such animated monstrosities. The lesser ones wielded far simpler, single-headed snake whips.

The two younger priestesses - Vara and Lilistra - turned their heads just enough to conceal the smug tilting of their lips. Brief glances were exchanged. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. In the endless chess game that was drow house politics, even the smallest victories were sought and savoured. The public humiliation of their sister was apparently one of them.


Matron Si'nafay slowly turned her attention back to the duergar. Her tone was cool and measured. Almost dangerously so.

"You'll forgive my eldest daughter's outburst. She...forgets her place." she spoke, addressing the dwarven leader but casting a deadly glance pointedly at the high priestess.

Except for the silent gloating of the two sisters, and the poorly contained storm still brewing behind Zesstra's eyes, the room returned to its previous stillness. Matron Si'nafay remained seated upon her throne, silently weighing her options.



House Druu'giir occupied a precarious yet respectable position within the hierarchy of Menzoberranzan. Ranked among the mid-tier houses of the city, it lacked the extensive bloodlines and arcane traditions of its more illustrious rivals. Still, few would dare dismiss it. While the house counted barely a dozen nobles, a handful of priestesses, and a modest circle of court wizards, its true strength lay elsewhere.

Unlike those many houses which drew power from zealous worship or arcane mastery, House Druu'giir had carved a name for itself through sheer military might. With an arsenal of over 250 battle-hardened soldiers - most trained from birth in the ways of subterranean warfare - the house commanded a disproportionate amount of respect. Behind this core force stood another deceptively useful asset: some nearly four hundred slaves; mostly goblins, orcs and bugbears – all of which could be armed and used as shock troops in time of need.

Matron Si'nafay had slain her own sinfully unambitious mother nearly nine decades ago and had guided the House ever since; allowing it to grow and steadily climb the ranks through a combination of calculated risks and strategic pragmatism. Though a devout high priestess in her own right, she was known to weigh advantage over dogma, to tolerate temporary alliances with outsiders, and to favour results over spectacle - traits that were somewhat uncommon amongst her kin.

Her eldest daughter, Zesstra, however, was cut from an entirely different cloth. Younger, brasher, and notably more fanatical than her mother, Zesstra was a true zealot of Lolth. While Matron Si'nafay prized survival, Zesstra coveted domination and divine favour at any cost. Her fervour burned with such intensity that it made some of the other nobles question her sanity and left Matron Si'nafay wondering whether she should arrange to have her killed.

Lilistra and Vara, both priestesses themselves, hated their older sister almost as much as they loathed the males of the House. The three siblings maintained a public veneer of unity, but beneath it simmered a web of planned betrayals and whispered promises of vengeance. All three of them spent their days secretly plotting each other's demise, whilst also silently coveting the throne and concocting ways to expedite the ageing Matriarch's downfall. Si'nafay knew this well, for she too would be doing the same had she been in their place.

In many ways, this tension defined not only House Druu'giir but the city of Menzoberranzan as a whole. It had been this way for several millennia. The chaotic chief-goddess they served – Lolth, Queen of Spiders – would have it no other way.



Much to Zesstra's unspoken opposition, Matron Si'nafay accepted the appeasement package and curled her full lips into an almost benevolent façade upon receiving verbal assurances of the delayed shipment's imminent arrival. The duergar were promptly dismissed from the imperious throne room, leaving the four women and the silent Weapons Master with their tribute – the kneeling human being among them.


Elias immediately felt his chest tighten and his breathing grow shallow when the shapely matriarch finally rose from her grotesque throne. She circled him, her heeled boots slowly clicking against the cold marble floor even as the three younger priestesses looked on, their expressions betraying varying levels of disgust, with high priestess Zesstra's unsurprisingly being the worst.

A shiver ran down the blond lad's spine when a long fingernail – that felt more like a claw – gently traced a line behind his neck before finally settling against the underside of his chin. He allowed his face to be pulled up and allowed his gaze to tentatively draw upwards, past the fullness of the Matron's indecently exposed bosom and into the alluring matriarch's crimson gaze. She stared at him for several seconds, her blood-red orbs peering into his sunken, sleep-deprived blue ones.

"Hmm. Perhaps a new plaything for one of my sons." she mused, casting the unflinching Weapons Master an overtly deliberate smile before slowly removing the tip of her dagger-shaped finger from beneath the human's exposed neck.

The statuesque, trident-wielding male provided his Matron with no audible response. His eyes briefly flickered towards the pitiful surfacer, but his stern features remained as stoic and as unreadable as ever. Perhaps an answer in itself.


Elias was not addressed directly, nor was he ordered to look away. But he did so on instinct, promptly casting his gaze back down to the cold floor as soon as the matriarch allowed her sharp finger to slowly pull away. A tiny speck of blood pearled at the spot where her finger had been, but the faint sting of pierced skin seemed inconsequential when weighed against the possibly gruesome fates that awaited him.

Guards were summoned, and without any explanation or hint of what was to come next, the kneeling human was pulled up to his feet and wordlessly dragged away. Where the armoured sentries were taking him, poor Elias had yet to find out.

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[ChairBoy]

Thank you for all the vocab you define. It’s very helpful!

[Pup Wingletang]

Lots of scope for political intrigue in that throne room! I guess Elias should be glad she accepted the tribute. Looking forward to meeting her sons.

Great writing bondagefreak - it really helps bring this terrifying world to life.

[DeeperThanRed]

So many intrigues are happening and Elias is merely a trinket for the Matron.

I wonder if the man in the city are going to be more interested in him...

[KidnappedCowboy]

I haven't read the latest chapter yet, @bondagefreak, but thank you for the "Quick Reference Glossary." I know it will be helpful.

[thespy]

The stakes are being set up, i feel like, offering accepted, mention of sons, intrigue, mystery... Elias is in for a journey i see. The addition of the vocab helps a lot as well.

[Redman]

I do hope both of her sons are reasonable with Elias... And expert knot tiers!

[gag1195]

It does go without saying, but Elias is definitely fucked. Matron Mother is not messing around, nor do her daughters, and I'd suspect those sons of her will give him no rest or relief. I cannot wait to meet his new masters!

[Socksbound]

Although I’m not familiar with the lore , I’m definitely interested and intrigued into how this will go.

Looking forward to Elias meeting the sons

[bondagefreak]

I do hope both of her sons are reasonable with Elias... And expert knot tiers!

Both? How interesting. Your choice of words betrays your knowledge of the lore, @Redman.
As for the "reasonable" part, you should know better than to expect the unlikely

[Redman]

I do hope both of her sons are reasonable with Elias... And expert knot tiers!

Both? How interesting. Your choice of words betrays your knowledge of the lore, @Redman.
As for the "reasonable" part, you should know better than to expect the unlikely

*Pops collar.* Eh, a nerd can dream.

[bondagefreak]

THANKS FOR THE VOICED INTEREST & SUPPORT, GUYS!

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER. ENJOY!

@Guardianbound @Ossassin @ChairBoy @Pup Wingletang @Tsuhaya @socksniffer27 @gag1195 @Redman @blackbound @DeeperThanRed @lah93 @Bound Down @OrdinaryWorld @KidnappedCowboy @thespy @Socksbound @JustKindaCurious

______________________________________________

* QUICK REFERENCE GLOSSARY *

* Drow - Dark elves, bitter enemies of the elves that live up on the surface. Known for their sadism and cruelty.
* Duergar - Subterranean grey dwarves. Slavers known for their craftsmanship and smithing skills.
* Five-headed Snake Whip - A high priestess' weapon. A monstrous whip of snakes magically animated by Lolth.
* Lolth - Evil goddess of the drow, also known as Queen of Spiders and Lady Lolth.
* Matron Mother - The matriarch at the head of a noble house. Typically, a high priestess of Lolth.
* Menzoberranzan - Holy city of the drow. Small by human standards. Population: 60,000 (20,000 drow/40,000 slaves)
* Quartermaster - Typically a military officer in charge of House assets and inventories. Mid-tier authority.
* Underdark - The sunless caverns, tunnels and caves far below ground, much like we have on Earth.

[bondagefreak]

* AUTHOR'S NOTE *

GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.

ENSLAVED BY THE DROW

CHAPTER 4 - THE INSPECTION

The thought of being turned into a plaything for one of the Matron’s sons settled in Elias's mind like a cold stone. He did not know what such a fate would truly entail, but the way the words rolled off the matriarch's tongue felt heavy with danger. The possibilities and mental images they conjured were fragmented and formless, but decidedly grim.

His stomach tightened into a knot, and he kept his gaze fixed to the black marble floor, as though that alone would help make him invisible before the drow. Little did he know he had already met both of Si'nafay’s sons. One in the courtyard, and the other, standing just a few meters away in the throne room itself.

At any rate, the blond lad wasn't allowed to silently dwell on the implications of the Matron's threat for very long. Guards approached his position, and without so much as a word, each seized one of Elias’s arms with an iron grip.


They dragged the kneeling human to his feet and marched him away from the raised dais, the sharp echo of their boots ringing loudly through the vaulted chamber. Double doors swung open at their approach, revealing a long, torchlit corridor. The air beyond was cooler, carrying the faint scent of stone and the distant sound of slaves and soldiers going about their business.

The guards did not speak. Their faces remained hidden behind helms that mimicked the visage of snarling spiders, but even so, their strength was unquestionable. Even without squeezing, they could have easily broken the pale human's arms or shattered his bones into pieces. Yet their grip never faltered into cruelty. They guided him with deliberate control, steering him around sharp corners and down steep steps with a care that betrayed awareness of the human's weakened state.

Elias nearly stumbled once, his knees threatening to give way under his weight, but the guard to his right caught him without hesitation, holding him upright until he could walk again. The lad whimpered an apology, but no reprimand came. No shove, lash of the whip or sneer followed suit - only the cold efficiency of soldiers dutifully carrying out their orders.

They crossed several corridors and passed numerous high archways, each of them carved with intricate spider motifs - visual tributes to the capricious spider goddess they served.

Elias carefully kept his gaze averted, but he was nevertheless alert enough to notice a number of goblinoid slaves, all of them seemingly engaged in menial housework and many of them cowering in fear upon seeing his daunting escorts.

The complex seemed endless, each hall seemingly wider than the previous, until at long last they reached the far end of the compound.



Elias had expected cruelty, perhaps even a sharp taste of torture for no other purpose than to remind him of his place. He also expected to be put straight back to work; perhaps sent to some dim tunnel with a pickaxe in his hands. Instead, the guards led him through a series of winding halls and into a dimly lit storeroom heavy with the scent of old parchment and lamp oil.

Behind a desk cluttered with scrolls, ledgers, and stacks of thin slate tablets sat an elderly drow, his charcoal-coloured skin lined with deep scars that spoke of battles fought centuries ago. The elderly drow's receding hair was tied back in a simple knot, and his garb was rather plain by noble standards. This was Quartermaster Seldszar - Matron Si'nafay's uncle - and though he retained some of his handsome features, he looked every bit his eight centuries of age.


A pair of crimson eyes briefly flicked up from the paperwork. When the guards presented their ward, the old drow's mouth immediately stretched into a thin line.

"I was not informed of new assets arriving today." he grumbled, his voice carrying the rasp of age and the irritation of one who had little patience for the unexpected. The ageing drow set his papers down with deliberate brusqueness and rose up sharply from his chair. He took a few steps forward and gave the visibly starved human one long, uncomfortably assessing look.

"Who purchased this creature?" he asked, his frown betraying a mixture of stark disapproval and deep bewilderment as red eyes flicked over to one of the tall guards.

"No purchase." came a curt, military-style response. "A gift from the duergar."

Seldszar's frown deepened even further at the sound of those words. "My my, we're taking in duergar refuse now. Times must be desperate indeed..." he disapprovingly muttered, shaking his head and allowing a frustrated huff to depart his nostrils.


"Strip him." he then gestured sharply to the guards.

They obeyed without hesitation, taking off the human's heavy collar and thick manacles before ripping off the thin robes that adorned his now shivering frame. The Quartermaster watched with the detached air of someone used to such routines. The inspection that followed was thorough and entirely without ceremony.

Assessing eyes swept over the blond human's naked form with slow precision. Elias stood still under the weight of Seldszar's scrutiny, shivering in the cool air and keeping his gaze averted in shame.


No questions were asked. Not about his name or his age or even about how he came to be trapped in this gloomy, sunless place. They guessed that he was in his second decade of life, but none bothered to confirm that with him.

The old drow’s eyes lingered on the sharpness of the young man's collarbone and the way his ribs were clearly visible beneath his skin. Dark red eyes traced the purple bruises mottling the human’s flanks, and the long, angry welts of duergar whip marks that marred much of the sickly lad's back. He moved around him without hurry; touching, assessing, taking in not only the young human's gaunt face and parched lips but also the narrowness of his too-thin wrists.

The Quartermaster huffed and shook his head again, his lips eventually curling in mild disdain.

"Some gift." he spat. "They didn't even bother oiling his skin. Savages."


Seldszar's tone carried no pity, though - only the irritation of a man handed inferior stock. He made a few quick notations on the slate tablet at his desk before setting it down again.

"What do you wish done with him?" one of the guards finally asked, leaving little doubt as to the old Quartermaster's authority in such matters.

"Get him cleaned up, watered, and fed. Have his wounds treated. Make sure he is left undisturbed. Use force only if necessary, and keep him closely supervised. Humans are hard enough to keep alive as is. I will not have this one wasting away or left to enact some pathetic suicide attempt before he is even put to work." he grumbled with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Monitor his condition closely and have him report back to me for reassessment in four days. Until then, do not disturb me with this matter." came the ageing drow's final instructions.

The towering guards immediately moved to obey, both of them firmly gripping Elias by the arms once more. The Quartermaster had already returned to his paperwork, and the human’s presence was dismissed as readily as it had been acknowledged.

INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
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[DeeperThanRed]

At least they're giving Elias better treatment now, but that's still pretty dehumanizing. You're really putting the "dark" in "dark erotica"!

Both? How interesting. Your choice of words betrays your knowledge of the lore

To be fair, the story visuals might have given us a hint.

[JustKindaCurious]

Hi @bondagefreak

I was on vacation for a couple days, so I didn't catch wind of this new story until now. I have to say that I'm immediately hooked. I love a fantasy setting and enslavement stories, especially if they have this amount of grim realism in them. That's why I liked your Viking story.

The whole underground setting and description of the city is intruiging and I especially love the complex dynamic of the Matriarch and her daughters, it adds so much more to the world to have this underlaying scheming and subtle fight for power in it.

I love it and can't wait for more, especially the dynamic between Elias and the sons. As much as the world in itself would be more than enough for a compelling story, I still hope for something certain involving rope and much more...

[bondagefreak]

I was on vacation for a couple days, so I didn't catch wind of this new story until now. I have to say that I'm immediately hooked. I love a fantasy setting and enslavement stories, especially if they have this amount of grim realism in them. That's why I liked your Viking story.

Welcome back, buddy-boi. Your vacation may have been brief, but I hope you were able to relax and enjoy yourself a bit. I'm glad to hear Elias's tale has you hooked. Should this tale actually garner enough interest to warrant full development, there will definitely be some lighter moments peppered throughout the grimness. But yes, as @DeeperThanRed points out in the comment above yours, I'm definitely going for dark and gritty. The actual novels and D&D lore this story is based on (the Drizzt novels) are every bit as gloomy.

@Socksbound
Welcome to the adventure, boi! I'm glad you're intrigued enough to follow along. I've added your name to the notification list.

@DeeperThanRed
Thanks for the steadfast support, my friend. I was pleasantly surprised to see your name pop up on here a few days. Glad you're enjoying this. As for the header/banner providing clues, perhaps But there is a definite lore reason that goes with @Redman's assumption of two sons. It's quite gruesome. It might be addressed at some point in the story. We'll see.

[Pup Wingletang]

Well it doesn't seem too bad so far although that's probably what the lamb thinks right before it's sent to the slaughter house.

[bondagefreak]

* IMPORTANT NOTE TO YOU ALL *

I realise this tale is not for everyone. If you initially gave it a go but no longer have the desire to continue reading (due to the content or due to lack of time) please send me a PM so that I can remove you from the tag list. There is no shame in doing so. I myself have begun reading countless stories only to lose interest at some point along the way. Sometimes it was due to content, other times it was simply due to life getting in the way. My point is, should you decide this tale is not quite what you were expecting, or should you simply lose the desire to keep reading at this time, I very much wish to be informed.

The notifications are not there to harass, and I know first-hand how irksome it can be to receive constant notifications on threads I've long lost interest in. Please, don't be embarrassed. Just send me a quick PM should you wish to stop being notified.

WITH THAT BEING SAID:

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER, GUYS. ENJOY!

@Guardianbound @Ossassin @ChairBoy @Pup Wingletang @Tsuhaya @socksniffer27 @gag1195 @Redman @blackbound @DeeperThanRed @lah93 @Bound Down @OrdinaryWorld @KidnappedCowboy @thespy @Socksbound @JustKindaCurious @daudnau @Volobond @Eros95

[bondagefreak]

* AUTHOR'S NOTE *

GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.

ENSLAVED BY THE DROW

CHAPTER 5 - DROW PRESERVATION

It would have been easy for an outsider - especially one so new to the Underdark - to mistake such treatment for compassion. After all, the orders to feed Elias, tend his wounds, and allow him rest might have sounded almost merciful to human ears. But the drow’s motives were not born of kindness. What they offered him was preservation, but in this case, preservation was not for the benefit of the one being preserved.

To Quartermaster Seldszar, the boy was not a soul to be pitied. He was a piece of stock, an asset that had cost the House nothing yet might yield some profit if kept alive long enough to serve. Wasting him now would be no better than letting a good blade rust or fine cloth succumb to mildew.

The lad was young, even by the standards of the surface world, and though his body was starved and his skin somewhat marred by duergar whip marks, his features retained an unquestionable attractiveness. Even though a few of the larger noble houses and some of the shadier brothels in the lower city were reputed for keeping sizeable harems of human pleasure slaves, Elias's kin remained somewhat uncommon in Menzoberranzan. That rarity had not gone unnoticed, of course. To the drow, it meant possibility; a showpiece for a noble house, a lure in some future bargain, or a plaything for one particularly bored noble.

A mangled goblin or a half-starved orc would have been thrown to the forges, the mines, or the fighting pits; their lives spent quickly and without wasteful care. But Elias, being human, was deemed somewhat finer stock - one worth grooming before the inevitable breaking process began. Whatever food, water, or care he received in the coming days was not to make him comfortable. It was merely to ensure he could work, endure, and remain presentable for as long as his owners required.

And so, under the cold grip of his two towering escorts, the young human was led away to the place where his enforced "preservation" was set to commence.



The guards silently led Elias down another short hallway, their heavy boots striking the stone floor with a steady rhythm. Their young ward kept his head hung low, painfully aware of his nakedness in the cool air. He covered his privates with both hands, but every sound seemed louder without the protective embrace of clothing. Still, the drow sentries gave no heed to his desperate yearning for modesty.

They stopped before a wooden door, its surface worn smooth by decades - or perhaps centuries - of use. No knock was delivered. The guards merely entered, each securely holding the naked human by his upper arms.

"Grilka." the taller of the two sternly called out, causing the servant lavatory's lone occupant - an orc woman, her once-broad shoulders now bent with age – to shuffle about and slowly turn around.

The orc woman's coarse hair had long ago turned a pale shade of grey, and her matching steel-coloured eyes appeared slightly clouded over with age. Her gaze met the drow guards before finally falling on Elias. She didn't recognise this new slave, but that didn't stop her greenish features and sunken orbs from softening into something else: pity.


The guards guided Elias into the humid lavatory room. The chamber was warm, lit by the gentle glow of several fungus-lanterns. At its centre stood a number of large wooden tubs, one of them already steaming with soapy water. The faint scent of lye and something sweeter filled the air. Elias didn't know what it was. He didn't care to find out either.

"This one needs tending to. Wash him well. He is to be kept in good condition." the guard ordered, addressing the orc woman curtly but with a familiarity that reflected her many years of loyal service.

Elias had not heard his own name spoken in many weeks. He silently wondered if perhaps his new captors would bother learning it at some point. He secretly hoped they would. Hearing the guards address the orc woman by her name gave him hope. It was a meagre thing to hold onto, but down here, it was the only thing he had left. His name. His...humanity.


Grilka gave the armoured guards a compliant nod and gently gestured for Elias to step forward.

He hesitated, cheeks burning, but under the silent, watchful gaze of the two guards, he obeyed. The warm water lapped against his legs as he stepped into the wooden tub, and for a fleeting moment, he nearly sighed at this long-forgotten comfort.

Grilka bent down to sit on a low stool. She picked up a rough cloth, dipped it into the soapy water, and began scrubbing away the grime that had accumulated on Elias's skin during the day-long trek through the Underdark. Her motions were slow and careful without being needlessly lazy. From the corner of his eye, Elias caught the faint crease in her brow, perhaps a quiet outrage she dared not voice. When her glossy gaze met his for the briefest moment, there was compassion there, and something else - the unspoken promise of motherly watchfulness.

She worked the suds into his blond hair, rinsing away the dirt and dried sweat. Then she moved to his bruised limbs, her touch as gentle as she could manage without prompting the guards to demand she hurry.

She spoke little, save for an occasional murmur in her own orcish tongue - words the drow ignored but which Elias instinctively knew were not meant for cruelty.


The guards stood close by, their crimson eyes fixed on the pale human - not in curiosity, but in dutiful vigilance, ensuring that he made no attempt to flee or harm himself. Humans were notorious for being emotionally erratic and unstable, even more so when subjected to extended periods of stress, fatigue or physical strain. They broke easily. It was one of the main reasons why many of the less sadistic and more martial-minded drow dismissed the idea of keeping them.

Compared to many of the other races commonly kept as slaves in the Underdark, humans were ephemeral. They lived short lives, had relatively little control over their emotions and often veered into obsessive attachment or excessive bouts of neediness. Unlike some of the other lesser races who more often than not resorted to physical violence, humans were also known to manipulate; using words and emotions as means of exerting subtle influence. And if there was one thing the drow hated above all else, it was the feeling of being manipulated. They were masters of the art, but had no tolerance for being on the receiving end of it.

To some drow, these unique penchants made humans especially appealing, prized targets for psychological torment. To those more martial, result-driven types, however, human frailty and neediness were often seen as inconvenient.



When the washing was finally done, Grilka pulled the plug at the base of the tub, letting the soapy water swirl away. She took a coarse towel from a nearby stool and began drying Elias's body with deliberate care. Once his skin was dry, she dipped her gnarled fingers into a nearby jar of pale oil and rubbed it lightly across his arms, chest, back and face, spreading the lightly-scented hydration agent in practised, circular motions.

Her hand briefly lingered on his shoulder, as though to reassure him. Their eyes met again, and the corners of her wrinkled lips pulled up into a kind smile. With her back turned to the guards, the gesture was apparently too subtle for them to notice. Elias, still shaken, did not speak, but he felt the faint warmth of her smile and drew comfort from it.

"There." she murmured, taking a slow step back.

Both of the guards immediately approached, one of them holding a folded garment - a pale grey, sleeveless tunic. "Put this on." he ordered, even as his slightly taller colleague moved behind the naked human so as to prevent any unwanted movements.

Elias accepted the tunic and slipped it on over his head. The fabric was coarse but felt relatively comfortable against his freshly cleaned skin. It didn't reach quite far enough down his thighs for his liking, but the modesty it afforded him was certainly better than nothing. The guards finally exchanged a brief nod, before wordlessly taking hold of the young man's upper arms and leading him out of the damp lavatory.


Grilka watched them go, her expression unreadable to the drow. But in her eyes, there lay the quiet determination of someone who had already decided this boy would not face his new world entirely alone.

In Menzoberranzan, however, such attachments were known to be perilous. Bonds between slaves drew suspicion, and any hint of loyalty that bypassed the chains of their masters would invite pain, torture or in some cases, even death. A careless word or an unguarded gesture could easily doom them both. There was little room for sympathy in the merciless city of the drow. Lolth's cruel dogma forbade such weakness, not only in her children but also in the slaves that served them.

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[DeeperThanRed]

I liked Grilka - as the narrative clearly indicates, their masters won't allow slaves to easily bond with one another. Still, I wonder if Elias can at least find some fellow captives who are in the same situation as him.

I also find this part interesting:

It was one of the main reasons why many of the less sadistic and more martial-minded drow dismissed the idea of keeping them.

So, the humans' main use for drows is to be short-lived toys, which... doesn't paint an inspiring picture about why the Queen thought that Elias would specifically be a good present.

[daudnau]

expecting more!!!

[Volobond]

I was finally able to get around to reading this tale, and I have to say I'm enthralled. A beautifully dark depiction of an unfortunate's enslavement by duergar and his chance (but likely more unfortunate) transfer to the drow!

I have to say, the Matron Mother and her house fascinate me. She's done much to make her House worthy, despite the lack of arcane bloodline or divine providence. Utilizing males and slaves to supplement her house's martial forces is a risky move - it definitely increases their might, but earns few favors with the more discerning houses and likely limits Druu'giir's options for alliances and advancements. Despite the grudging respect it earns for its sheer power, it is also very likely a huge target for the other houses.

The interplay between her daughters is also fascinating. It's clear Zesstra relies on her clear favor from Lolth to make up for her poor emotional regulation, and Si'nafay only hesitates because of that favor. The sisters are of course delighted at any foothold they can use to undermine her. Like most drow houses, Druu'giir is clearly a powder keg, and when it goes off, the slaves will be the ones to suffer the most.

It's so bittersweet to see Grilka's kindness. While Elias clearly needs a friend and some good in his life, it likely won't end well for either of them...

[bondagefreak]

Welcome to the adventure, @Volobond! I'm thrilled to hear you're enjoying this. As a D&D fan, I was very much hoping you would. Thanks for the nice comment. I love your in-depth analysis.

For a human, I honestly have no idea which would be worse: being a slave to the duergar or being a slave to the drow. One means basically being worked to death and treated like raw material, the other inevitably means being turned into a pawn of twisted mind games and being trapped in a world of psychological torments. It's basically a case of choosing between the hammer and the scalpel.

A few takeaways:

I have to say, the Matron Mother and her house fascinate me. She's done much to make her House worthy, despite the lack of arcane bloodline or divine providence. Utilizing males and slaves to supplement her house's martial forces is a risky move - it definitely increases their might, but earns few favors with the more discerning houses and likely limits Druu'giir's options for alliances and advancements. Despite the grudging respect it earns for its sheer power, it is also very likely a huge target for the other houses.

Not necessarily, though I understand how it can come off that way. Drow males typically comprise the bulk of the city's martial forces. Drow women do not typically pursue martial arts. Martial focus is thought to be inferior to clerical functions, and as you know, males are strictly barred from all clerical pursuits in Lolth-dominated cities. That leads most of the men to pursue either martial arts or wizardry, while the women aspire to rise further up the priesthood echelons.

Wizardry is respected among the drow, but Lolth's dogma has such a stranglehold over their culture that women who pursue the arcane arts are thought of as being unambitious and/or odd. The stigma would be even worse for those women who choose the martial route, which is thought of as being very unambitious and below them.

You are, however, totally correct to assume that the lack of clerical focus or arcane potency would make House Druug'iir a tempting target for those Houses looking for advancement. Still, in terms of numbers, 250 drow soldiers + 400 cannon fodder/slaves is a substantial force for a mid-tier House. Several of the higher-ranking Houses have smaller arsenals.


Interesting fact about D&D lore; Menzoberranzan's 2nd House is actually extremely martial-focused and is specifically stated in the novels as being a bit of an outlier for not relying much on clerical prowess. I just checked the Forgotten Realms wiki, and the house in question is stated as having an arsenal of 1000 drow soldiers and 1100 slaves.

So yes, while all Houses rely very heavily on males and slaves to make up the bulk of their military arsenals, those Houses which are known to be lacking in cleric fervour would have a great big bullseye on them. Some of the more fanatical Matron Mothers would consider it their holy duty to purge such "faithless" drivel from Lolth's holy city. Hope you enjoy all this nerdy background info

The rest of your analysis is spot-on perfect.

I also find this part interesting:

It was one of the main reasons why many of the less sadistic and more martial-minded drow dismissed the idea of keeping them.

So, the humans' main use for drows is to be short-lived toys, which... doesn't paint an inspiring picture about why the Queen thought that Elias would specifically be a good present.

@DeeperThanRed
Hey, my friend. Indeed, your assumption is quite correct. I would point out, though, that the drow don't exactly have the same definition of the words "short-lived" as we do. Drow and other elves can live up to a millennium. So from their perspective, a human's lifespan - even when it reaches 100 - would seem ephemeral and fleeting. So yeah, "short-lived" is to be taken with a grain of salt here. They could extract many decades of service from a human and still see it as a short-term arrangement.