ENSLAVED BY THE DROW (M+/M) *DARK EROTICA* CHAPTERS 1-14

[Eros95]

Nice story i play neverwinter night and i love the forgotten realms ambients

[bondagefreak]

Nice story i play neverwinter night and i love the forgotten realms ambients

Welcome to the adventure @Eros95. Awesome that you play NWN. It's always great to meet other RPG gamers on here. There are apparently quite a few of us: @blackbound, @Volobond, @gag1195, @OrdinaryWorld, myself. I've added your name to the notification list.

[Stormee]

Finally caught up on the chapters. Curious to see what comes of Elias. I have little knowledge of Baldur's Gate, even though I play little of it, which I will get to more of eventually, but this is giving vibes of the Viking story when the protagonist was taken and made into a slave. So I am curious of this to know more.

[Redman]

I love the way this is shaping up! And no, I didn't guess the number of sons from the banner. I've read The Dark Elf trilogy. And as stated, I've played with a Drow character at the table. Yeah, I know how it works. *Shudders.*

[bondagefreak]

Finally caught up on the chapters. Curious to see what comes of Elias. I have little knowledge of Baldur's Gate, even though I play little of it, which I will get to more of eventually...

Welcome to the adventure, @Stormee-boi. I'm glad you're interested. Just a heads up, though, this has virtually nothing to do with Baldur's Gate. Baldur's Gate just happens to be mentioned regularly in D&D storytelling/movies/games because it's a central trading hub in the Forgotten Realms setting. The city itself has no bearing on this story other than being located on the same continent. In fact, the vast majority of the BG games are not spent in Baldur's Gate. You visit the city once at the end of the first game and then a second time at the end of the third game. Either way, glad you were interested enough to get caught up.

I didn't guess the number of sons from the banner. I've read The Dark Elf trilogy. And as stated, I've played with a Drow character at the table. Yeah, I know how it works. *Shudders.*

Awesome to hear, mate. Glad we read the same books. The lore surrounding the two-sons-limit is obviously not super important, but I might briefly touch on it in-story, merely to give the readers a better understanding of just how insane Lolth's dogma is.

[JustKindaCurious]

I'm glad that Elias has encountered at least one kind soul so far. It could be the start of a friendship or even alliance, even though they can't openly show it. I'm once again floored by the layered world building, I love it!

[bondagefreak]

THANKS TO THOSE TAKING THE TIME TO COMMENT.

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 @Stormee

______________________________________________

* 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.
* Rothé - Underdark cattle, similar to surface-world cows. Used for meat, milk and wool.
* 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 6 - COLLARED & CAGED

The guards brought Elias to a halt just outside the servants' lavatory. One of them produced a dull iron collar from a pouch at his belt. It was plain, without sigil or ornament – basically just a simple band equipped with a small loop for a chain or a leash. Still, the sight of it made Elias’s stomach twist.

"Hold still." the taller drow warned, even as his fellow sentryman moved to further cement his hold over the cooperative boy.

A cold weight settled around Elias's neck as the collar was placed around it, and a shiver ran up his spine when he heard the familiar click of metal. There was a chilling finality to that sound.


As soon as their human ward was collared, the towering guards marched through the wide corridors of the main complex and stepped out into the open training yard. The ground beneath Elias's bare feet was a mixture of packed earth and rough flagstone. It felt cool and slightly uneven. Most likely intentionally so.

Drow soldiers moved about the spacious yard, some sparring with blunted swords, others firing bolts or throwing knives at distant targets. A few soldiers glanced his way, a few brows furrowed, and a few lips curled into hostile snarls, but none verbally addressed him. The presence of two armed escorts was explanation enough for his appearance.

The guards wordlessly marched him straight across the busy courtyard, their pace unhurried but without pause, leading the frail human towards a stone structure built into the inner wall of the intimidating compound. No door led into the structure, only a broad archway bearing House Druu'giir's sigil at its crest.


Crossing the threshold, Elias found himself swallowed by the cooler, more stagnant air of the barracks. The corridor ahead was dim, lit only by a scattering of faintly glowing fungus lamps. Unlike him, drow eyes needed no light to see.

From deeper within the building came the muffled sound of booted footsteps and the low murmur of masculine voices. This was a place of routine, order and vigilance, Elias knew. Of that there could be no doubt.

One of the guards took his arm more firmly, steering him toward a side passage. The smell of oil, leather and steel thickened the air, and the echo of their footfalls seemed to grow sharper as they approached whatever lay ahead.

Elias kept his head down, the psychological weight of the collar still tugging against his throat. He felt more subconscious than ever, not only about how high the grey tunic rode up his exposed thighs but also due to the unshakeable feeling of being so out of place here, surrounded by fierce-looking soldiers - many of them quite muscular and several of them casting openly suggestive glances his way.



The guards did not take him to a cell. Instead, they guided him down a short corridor and past a set of closed doors, until the passage opened into a large, slightly better-lit chamber – the mess hall.

The mess hall was quiet. Only a dozen off-duty soldiers remained; some of them still clad in armour, others in civilian garb. Most of the House sentries were away on patrol, training in the yard or stationed at the gates, leaving the space heavy with the clink of cutlery and the faint sound of food being prepared in the nearby kitchen.

Elias’s bare feet shuffled against the stone floor as they assertively steered him toward a corner table, away from the other soldiers. He sat, head lowered in a mixture of silent shame and quiet deference. Even though his gaze remained averted, he felt the heat of many stares fixed upon his seated form. A few of the off-duty soldiers allowed their gazes to linger – their sharp, disapproving glares sliding over Elias's pale skin and the iron collar around his neck.

Some wanted to gut him on the spot. Some wanted to make him squeal in pain. Others wanted to fuck him, if only to test human submissiveness – a concept that was heavily exoticised yet so very alien to the drow.



One of the guards assigned to his preservation stepped away and returned to the table a brief moment later, this time carrying a platter of food. A large, steaming bowl of rothé stew was set before Elias, the smell of meat immediately wafting up his nostrils. Beside it sat a pile of steamed mushrooms, a thick hunk of bread, and a generous cup of water.

The guard dropped into the seat directly across from him, leaning forward slightly. The other, marginally taller sentry took the seat to Elias's left, trapping the collared boy into the very corner of the communal dining room. The two guards set their weapons within easy reach, but neither of them took their helmets off, reflecting the fact that they were still very much on duty.


Elias glanced at the meal before him. He hesitated. It smelled rich and meaty - almost to the point of being overwhelming after so many weeks of surviving on dry rations and scraps of stale bread. His hands shook as he tentatively reached down to pick the spoon up. He'd not had the luxury of using such a tool in weeks. In a way, it felt almost foreign to his fingers.

The guards spoke to one another in low tones, their words clipped and businesslike - similar to those of human military officers. Elias caught fragments of their exchange - rotation schedules, assignments at the south gate, a mention of the Weapons Master's foul mood. Minus one or two bouts of idle gossip relating to one of the nobles, their conversation never drifted far from duty. Their eyes also never left Elias's slumped form for very long. They watched him with the vigilance of hungry hawks.


When his pace slowed, the guard across from him stopped speaking mid-sentence and fixed him with a hard glare. "Eat." he snapped, his tone flat and leaving little room for compromise.

"If you do not, we will bind you to the chair and I will feed you myself." the other, slightly taller guard threatened, wrapping his very sizeable hand around the back of the pale human's neck, if only to further drive his point across.

Elias gulped, and his seated frame immediately slumped even further at the sound of those words. He lowered his gaze to the stew bowl and forced another spoonful down, the fatty broth filling his mouth. He ate more steadily after that.



When finally the stew was gone, the bread reduced to crumbs, and the seasoned mushrooms eaten despite their slightly bitter aftertaste, Elias drank from the cup of water before setting it down upon the now-empty tray.

The guards continued chatting for several moments, their unhurried manner leaving the ignored human briefly feeling as though he were little more than a piece of furniture. In truth, to them, he very much was. The drow knew humans were sentient, but even so, they thought of them as little more than apes. Clever apes that somehow built cities, organised empires and wielded magic, but still apes - creatures fit only for servitude and the bedchambers of curious nobles.


Without so much as a word, the guard seated next to Elias rose, his gauntleted hand closing tightly around the human boy's arm. The towering sentries wasted no time in lifting their collared ward up to his feet, steering him through another corridor and down a short flight of steps. The air grew noticeably cooler, carrying the faint smell of damp stone and iron.

They stopped before a holding cell - its interior completely bare save for a clay pitcher of water and a lidded pot, which Elias assumed was used for waste matter. The space smelled faintly of cleaning lye, as if someone had rushed to scrub away any trace of the previous occupant. One of the guards briefly left the room before coming back with a thin sleeping mat – an uncommon luxury many a slave would be ready to kill for.


The cell door was nothing more than a set of thick adamantite bars. It offered neither privacy nor comfort; allowing any soldier passing through the barracks' main hall a clear view of whoever was in holding. The other cells all had full doors with only small shutter-windows at eye level. Elias didn’t know whether he should be grateful not to be placed inside one of those.

The metal door noisily swung open. The sleeping mat was unceremoniously tossed to the dusty floor, and then Elias was guided into his cell, gently but firmly.

Once inside, he turned to face the taller of the two guards, his eyes nervously glancing up to dwell upon the unmistakably handsome soldier's face. His stare was neither defiant nor challenging. Rather, it was questioning, as though seeking further instructions - much like a frightened child looking up to his parent.

The order that came was curt and to the point. "Down. Sleep." the guard gruffly commanded, pointing to the thin sleeping mat as though the human boy was some domesticated hound. Elias bowed his head and obediently got down on all fours. The collar around his neck felt somewhat heavier as he curled up on his pad and the heavy door clanged shut. Then, he was alone.

The faint sound of nearby sentries going about their business echoed all about the barracks, but for the first time since arriving in this city, he was free from the weight of those hawkish crimson stares. Finally, he could rest.

INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!

[OrdinaryWorld]

I quite liked this chapter. It definitely solidified the air of oppression and absolute powerlessness.

I'll mention a quote from a previous chapter I also quite liked

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.

I liked the fact that based on this, keeping Elias captive isn't actually as easy a task as it would seem for the Drow. The Drow seem very powerful, yet they still need to actually take care lest they go too far abusing human fragility.

Also that they REALLY can't handle human emotions and their potential ability to manipulate!

[DeeperThanRed]

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.

That's a good point, and it makes me feel a bit better about Elias's chances of survival. On the flip side, that means he has a long period of bondage ahead, which isn't good for him but suits just fine for our readers.

Also, as this update (Chapter 6) showed, this gap in age expectancy probably plays a part in most drows seeing humans as basically animals. I liked how soldiers have various ways to handle this information, thought they all agree that they want to dominate Elias one way or the other.

[Volobond]

Loved the forcefulness and the oppressive feel of this chapter. Menzoberranzan really is a great machine, isn't it, with each cog firmly lashed into place on pain of (even more) cruelty.

[Pup Wingletang]

At least Elias has seen one friendly face is this beautiful but deadly city. Too bad his 'preservation' is for the drow's benefit rather than his.

Seems like there is a lot of interest in our diminutive human. It's probably quite lucky for him that he has a pair of guards and a nice little cage to sleep in!

[gag1195]

Missed a few chapters! I second @Volobond, the house is definitely a well oiled machine!

Reading the meal scene, I was instantly reminded of a post from eons ago about someone making a ration spread for a bunch of different D&D races, doing their best to equate our real world ingredients with the more fantastical ones. The Drow one had a lot of mushrooms and fungus, and even snails, stuff easily found and foraged in the expansive and cavernous Underdark. Its a post I had forgotten about until reading the chapter!

[thespy]

Great exposition chapter, it really delved more into the lore, at least in my opinion; for a sec i imagined the story as if i was playing Skyrim (one of my only points of reference) and it was great, it helped a lot! i liked the roughness of the guards towards Elias, his puppy eyes, wondering. The story is taking a good shape, can't wait to read more!

[bondagefreak]

Great exposition chapter, it really delved more into the lore, at least in my opinion; for a sec i imagined the story as if i was playing Skyrim (one of my only points of reference) and it was great, it helped a lot!

Glad you're enjoying yourself, buddy-boi. As for your mention of briefly using Skyrim due to it being one of your only reference points, ehhhhh. Let's just say that if I had the power to temporarily wipe your brain of all Elder Scrolls knowledge, I would. At least, for the duration of your reading. I like Skyrim too, btw.


I can sort of understand why your mind would be trying to make the connection, but using Skyrim or any of the Elder Scrolls as a reference point for D&D would be like using Star Wars as a reference for Star Trek, or Harry Potter as a reference for The Lord of the Rings. Both the ES series and D&D/Forgotten Realms share the fantasy genre, but similarities end there.

The Drow of D&D and the Dunmner of Skyrim/ES are culturally nothing alike. Even physically, the differences are stark. They both have pointy ears due to being elves, but that's about it. The Dunmner are ugly as hell (thanks to the hilariously messed-up ES face aesthetics ), while the Drow are depicted as being physically stunning.

I understand why your brain would be trying to make the connection, but in this case, there really is no connection to make. Both franchises share the fantasy genre, but they diverge rather massively from that point on. Try resisting the urge to lean on your knowledge of Skyrim. A blank slate (no reference point at all) would actually be much better in this case.

[bondagefreak]

THANKS TO THOSE TAKING THE TIME TO COMMENT.

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER, GUYS. ENJOY!

@Ossassin @Pup Wingletang @Tsuhaya @gag1195 @Redman @blackbound @DeeperThanRed @lah93 @Bound Down @OrdinaryWorld @thespy @Socksbound @JustKindaCurious @daudnau @Volobond @Eros95 @Stormee @ShadowHusky

______________________________________________

* 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)
* Patron - A Matron's consort. The title is purely ceremonial and grants no significant authority.
* Quartermaster - Typically a military officer in charge of House assets and inventories. Mid-tier authority.
* Rothé - Underdark cattle, similar to surface-world cows. Used for meat, milk and wool.
* 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 7 - COMMON BLOOD

Elias remained in the holding cell, secluded from the other slaves for four consecutive days. The space designated as his resting area was cold and barren, containing little more than a thin sleeping pad and a clay pitcher of water. He had little to do but remain curled up on his thin mat. The adamantite bars that served as the doorway to his cell allowed no privacy; the soldiers in the barracks could see him at all times.

The two armoured guards assigned to his preservation made a habit of regularly checking up on him, but aside from gruff-spoken commands and hard, assessing stares that somehow never seemed to soften, interactions remained minimal.


Every day, usually in the dim magical glow of Menzoberranzan's version of morning, Elias was taken out of the cell for a brief stroll around the courtyard. The guards set a slow, deliberate pace. Though he could go nowhere and had no means of realistically escaping the gated compound, they leashed him; most likely to retain better control of his movements whilst also depriving him of any residual dignity.

Elias was walked across the courtyard and led around the gated compound's perimeter, like a pet hound being walked by its owner. He kept his head down and his eyes fixed to the ground, not only because it had been ordered but also to avoid the hostile snarls and lewd stares lingering on his exposed legs and tunic-clad body.

The daily strolls were never for the benefit of his feelings. Their only purpose was to prevent his legs from weakening and his body from wasting away. Everything was being done for the sake of his potential usefulness.



At one point during his confinement, as the taller of the two guards was returning him to his cell after their habitual morning walk, Elias hesitated, then tried to speak. His voice was weak, raspy and oh so very tentative.

"Sir...may I-"

The rest of the words, unfortunately, never left his mouth. The statuesque guard's hand shot out of its gauntlet with a speed that defied expectations and delivered a sharp, stinging slap across Elias's unprepared face.


For a drow, the blow was light – the kind of slap one would administer to a young child who'd shown weakness by shedding tears. For a human, especially one in Elias's weakened state, the blow was anything but benign. It sent the young man's head hurtling to the side and immediately caused him to sink down to the floor of his cell and clutch the left side of his face.

To drow eyes, the spectacle was overly dramatic and so very typical of humans. In other words, pathetic.

“You speak only when spoken to!” the towering guard growled, his crimson glare locking on Elias’s hunched frame with nary a hint of discernible sympathy. “Speak out of turn again, and you’ll spend the rest of your stay gagged and shackled to the wall." he threatened, pointing to the four rusty cuffs affixed to the cell's innermost wall.

The second guard, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, let out a short, humourless chuckle.

Elias remained crouched and kept his tear-lined face protectively buried in his hands. His cheek burned, both from the pain of the slap and from the humiliation of having been struck. He thought his captors unnecessarily cruel, naively unaware of the fact that his treatment was far milder than that which most of the other slaves endured. The slap may have been harsh, but by drow standards, it was highly restrained.

From that moment on, he kept his mouth shut; answering only when ordered to, and doing exactly as he was told. Nothing less was expected of him. Nothing more was permitted.



Twice a day - once in the late morning and once in the evening - he was fed. The tall guards were always present for these meals, seated close to their ward and with a constant air of vigilance. Every motion – even just reaching for bread, or lifting a cup to his lips - was monitored with the same hawkish scrutiny one might give to a dangerous animal.

Even as the days crawled by, the guards showed no hint of sympathy. Their manner remained as sharp and as clipped as the blades at their hips.


Every day, an alchemist who also served as one of the house healers came to tend to his wounds. Elias thought nothing of him at first, but upon discreet inspection of the hooded drow's face, he immediately grew mystified.

Beneath the hood of the drow's robe-like vestment was a face both familiar and alien. He had the unmistakable traits of the drow; the sharp cheekbones, the white hair, and the angular features. But his skin was several shades paler, and his ears were noticeably shorter. There was something oddly human about the pale healer's face. The creases around his eyes and the telltale signs of ageing on his brow looked distinctly familiar. It wasn't just a matter of appearance, though. There was something else.

The alchemist’s manner was reserved, but the guards still saw fit to treat him with a puzzling degree of harshness. They spoke to him in brusque tones, signs of either disdain or impatience showing on their faces whenever he addressed them.

On the pale drow's second visit to the holding cell, Elias noticed something peculiar that further cemented his suspicions. The healer gave the guards a slight bow of his head as they moved to open the cell door, just as he did every time he left. It was not the bow of a slave or servant, but a quick dip that carried clear notes of deference. He moved not with the overt pride and confidence of the others, and his gaze was kept noticeably lowered. His eyes did not wander.


Elias said nothing during those first two visits, but on the third day, when the guards were busy chatting several meters outside the cell, curiosity got the better of him.

As the dusky-skinned healer smoothed a cooling salve across the many whip marks that marred his legs, Elias looked up and tentatively opened his mouth as if to speak. The question hovered at his lips - he wanted to ask, or rather, know what the man was. The healer apparently sensed the impending question. He froze mid-motion, and then his violet eyes shot up to peer harshly into Elias’s pale blue ones.

"Do not...ask me what you are about to ask, human. Keep your vile question to yourself." the frowning man snapped, his tone threateningly low and his words very clearly edged with years - or possibly decades - of bottled-up anger. The pale drow held Elias’s stunned gaze for a moment longer and then returned to his work without saying another word.

The stark warning was enough to confirm what Elias suspected; the alchemist was not of pure blood. He was obviously half-human - something he understandably did not need reminding of. The man was handsome by the standards of both races, but in Menzoberranzan, he was an aberration; a mongrel, something to be shamed, reviled and ridiculed.


Elias still allowed himself to slip out a discreet "Thank you." at the conclusion of the salve-expert's visit. The soft-spoken gesture earned him a look of profound incomprehension, as though the half-drow had never heard such words before.

Elias had no way of knowing this, but the concept of gratitude was entirely foreign to the inhabitants of this city. Nothing was given freely here. Everything was transactional. Even the gifts. Especially the gifts.





On the morning of the fourth day, the armoured sentries came to escort Elias back to Quartermaster Seldszar.

The inspection was brief. The blond-haired boy stood freshly bathed and completely motionless as the ancient-looking drow looked him over in assessing silence. Seldszar's crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the lessened swelling of wounds and the healthy fullness slowly returning to the human's pale face. Still, the ageing Quartermaster wasn't quite satisfied. He pursed his narrow lips and shook his head slightly.

"Not yet." he casually stated, returning Elias to the custody of the guards with one dismissive flick of the hand.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in the not-so-distant throne room, trouble brewed. The sharp clack of boots hitting marble preceded the arrival of a sombre-faced military commander. He came to a halt at the foot of the raised dais; dipping into a low bow and saluting Matron Si'nafay by pressing a clenched fist to his chest.

"Matron Mother, the scouts we sent to investigate our missing patrol have returned from their search. The entire patrol was found dead. All twelve soldiers were slain in the outer tunnels beyond the city. Several of the corpses were mangled and burned beyond recognition. Among the remains, our scouts found only a single clue. This." he spoke, extending an open palm and handing the seated matriarch a damaged cloak pin bearing the insignia of the eleventh house - House Teken'duis.


A cold silence settled over the chamber. Si'nafay's crimson eyes narrowed, but her voice retained its usual silkiness. "Matron Olorae...breaking our pact so soon?" she calmly mused, as though hardly believing the words herself. "How...disappointing."

At her right side, high priestess Zesstra slammed her fist against the armrest of her own seat. "We must strike House Teken'duis at once, before they believe we are weak!" she spat.


Nalfein, the current Patron of the house, stepped closer to the side of his consort's grotesque throne and inclined his head respectfully. "Matron Mother, with all due respect, I would advise caution. There may be more at work here than-"

"Silence, worm! Your cowardice brings nothing but shame to this house." Zesstra dismissively scoffed, her voice ringing across the great chamber with its usual shrillness. "Matron, we must strike swiftly. Lolth will not grant us divine favour should we let this betrayal go unpunished." she went on, brusquely overriding Nalfein's concerns by cutting him off and addressing the matriarch directly.

Patron Nalfein, of course, merely stepped back from the throne and said nothing. His position was purely ceremonial – a mere title that granted him no significant authority in important house affairs.

Any influence he wielded came not from his sharing of the Matron's bed but from his knowledge of the arcane. He was a reasonably skilled wizard as far as drow spellcasters went, and he was physically pleasing to look at - not to mention suitably proficient in bed. For the Matron, that was reason enough to keep him alive...for now.


Si'nafay raised a hand, her expression calm and measured even though a nervous storm silently brewed behind her icy façade. Her pact with the nobles of Teken'duis was less than a year old. The thought of Matron Olorae betraying her so quickly - and the prospect of war with the eleventh house - was deeply unsettling.

"Enough." she coolly spoke after a moment of contemplation. Her gaze shifted briefly to dwell over her current consort, and though her expression betrayed nothing, her thoughts were already aligning with his.


The attack was crude - too crude for the eleventh house and too unsubtle for the likes of Olorae Teken'duis. The lone insignia pin was simply too perfect a clue, planted among the charred remains of her missing patrol as if meant to be found.

No. Someone else had orchestrated this, she was certain. Perhaps an ambitious house below Druu'giir seeking to usurp their position. Her thoughts shifted, her mind racing to narrow down the list of potential suspects. House Kenafin? House Tuin'Tarl? House Srune'Lett? All three stood to gain from House Druu'giir's downfall.

Matron Si'nafay narrowed her eyes. As soon as the high-ranking military commander had withdrawn from the brazier-lit throne room, she turned her head just enough to meet Nalfein's eager gaze. Her voice was low, yet it carried the unmistakable weight of command. "Gather the court wizards." she ordered. "You have much scrying to do."

INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!
IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!

[ShadowHusky]

Fascinating how the feel for comfort can be built by the comparison of something harsher. While we know, as readers, that Elias' fate with the Drows is still explicitly dire and overwhelmingly toxic; the stark comparison in how it is present leads us into the human perspective of seeing this as a fairer and more enviable fate than that with the Duergar. The mixture of analysing Elias' fate as nothing more than a pet or trinket to the drow mixing with this fascinating mystery with the patrol, is making for a very enjoyable read so far. Even still, I'm curious which of the brothers Elias will be gifted to, or will he be shared, or will they both vie for this trinket's ownership

[DeeperThanRed]

I knew drows were more than a little racist but they don't even have tolerance for mixed race citizens? I'm starting to think Elias' s kindness might help him to gain some unlikely allies.

(Also, I wonder when he'll speak out of turn and his guards make good of their promise to gag him? )

The real intrigue here is the ambush, though. Si'nafay definitely has the wits to support her power. It's always nice to see an antagonist so capable.

[gag1195]

I'm really enjoying the emphasis on the political intrigue, on top of the bondage and breaking in Elias as a new slave. This story and @Volobond's Dust series is really scratching the fantasy political bondage thriller itch!

[Redman]

I'm liking how this seems to have shifted gears into an in-universe story. It's easy to forget what site this is on. Well done, sir!

As a side note, this story has inspired a campaign for my party. So thank you for that.

[Stormee]

Least Elias is getting the better, not really better, treatment than other slaves of the house. But still, curious on what happens in the next chapter.

[bondagefreak]

Fascinating how the feel for comfort can be built by the comparison of something harsher. While we know, as readers, that Elias' fate with the Drows is still explicitly dire and overwhelmingly toxic; the stark comparison in how it is present leads us into the human perspective of seeing this as a fairer and more enviable fate than that with the Duergar.

Welcome to the adventure, my friend! I'm glad you could join us.
That's a very astute observation. You make an excellent point. Many people have a penchant for becoming attached/feeling affection for captors (or even partners) who treat them poorly, but not as poorly as another captor/partner. I believe this can be extended to apply to situations and predicaments as well.

This may ruffle a few feathers, but some may justifiably be tempted to think of the early Nick & Steven relationship in BOUND & GAGGED. Nick was awful to Steven in the earlier books, but he was arguably more generous and "fair" than Brad. Nick was the lesser of two evils and, as such, was raised in the eyes of many readers, even though he was very much an antagonist.

You're right. It's very human. In the fictional Forgotten Realms lore, this sort of "Stockholm syndrome" is inherently associated with humans, and the drow are very much aware of it.

I knew drows were more than a little racist but they don't even have tolerance for mixed race citizens?

A valid question. But no, to the vast majority of drow, the concept of procreating with humans and producing "impure" offspring would be unthinkable. The result of such a union would be seen as sacrilegious and deeply offensive. To them, such offspring would be little more than abominations - a smearing of their superior blood. Those few half-human/half-drow who are not slain at birth (or in the mother's womb) would endure extremely precarious positions and constant abuse, hate or ridicule. They would be hated and reviled by drow and non-drow alike.

Non-drow would only see a drow. And the drow would only see a human. It would be extremely difficult for a half-drow to secure a position of relative comfort in Menzoberranzan. They would be seen as little better than slaves, and they would never be trusted with anything even remotely important.

The healer-alchemist's hooded robe is no coincidence. It's probably for his own sake as much as it is for the sake of those around him. Concealing as much of himself as possible (his ears, his skin, etc) would be an attempt at making himself more palatable and less visually offensive to the drow. The fact that the guards feel the need to supervise his visits to Elias' cell also speaks of their distrust. A full-blooded drow healer would not have been supervised during these visits. Anyways, this might be explored a bit more later on.


SMALL NOTE TO ANYONE READING THIS:
The word "drow" is both singular and plural. Much like "deer" and "sheep", it remains as is even in plural form.
Eg: One drow. Two drow. Many drow.

[Volobond]

Did anyone else's eyes immediately turn to the warmongering Zesstra as the culprit of this false flag operation? Lolth is said to greatly enjoy the infighting between drow houses and even within drow houses, despite (or because of) the harm and stagnation it causes drow society. A high priestess of hers, particularly a zealot like Zesstra, would have every reason to stoke a war between houses, and the arrogance to believe her favor would earn her protection.

That said, if it really is another house, then Druu'giir may be at a disadvantage when it comes to magical surveillance and divination - their arcane might is meager compared to other houses.

[bondagefreak]

@Volobond
Far be it from me to spoil anything, but I will say, what an interesting - and perfectly plausible - hypothesis!

@Redman
A new campaign for your party? That sounds cool. Definitely interested in getting some details.