ENSLAVED BY THE DROW (M+/M) *DARK EROTICA* CHAPTERS 1-3

[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

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* 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)

[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 own daughter 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.

[bondagefreak]

@ChairBoy @Pup Wingletang
Apologies to you and the other early readers. In my haste to drop this third chapter before going to bed last night, I apparently omitted to insert the image that was meant to go with the chapter. Omission corrected!