[b][u][center]Special Positions, Special Perks Part 2 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Lord Brundir was right about healing quickly. Vitus managed to get out of bed the next day without help, and surprised even his patron by how quickly he was moving around. The looks that the aasimar gave him made him wonder just how potent the poison on the dagger had been, and worse, just what it meant for him. After all, he was in reasonably good shape, but he hadn’t been particularly tough or strong before. Not until…well, the incident that had led to him leaving the Arcanamirium in the first place. As he sat on a bench in the lord’s gardens, somewhere on the south side of the older man’s estate, he looked down at his hands. One hung limp at his side, his arm still in the process of recovering after being stabbed in the shoulder, but the other moved with ease. He held up his right hand, looking at his palm as he opened and closed his fist. [i]A hellhound could live through that…[/i] He pushed the thought out of his head. The last thing that he needed to do was start thinking about Melchiresa. The demon lord’s influence had been banished from the school and, more importantly, from him. The only thing that lingered was a bit of demonic libido, and that was nothing. Or…was it? The fact that he had recovered this quickly did suggest that there was more to this than just being a quick healer. What if there was something else going on? The human leaned back on the bench a bit further, lifting his dead arm from his side and letting his hand rest on his thigh. Better that way, he thought. Didn’t look quite so unnatural, didn’t make him look like one side of his body was paralyzed or something. Vitus winced at the sudden squeeze through his soul, feeling the pressure of the contract on him again. He had almost gotten used to the weight that the contract itself put on him, but the feeling of those squeezes was impossible to adjust to. It was like a random squeeze to the balls, except somehow even more intimate. Shaking his head as the pressure on his insides faded, the young man looked over his shoulder towards the estate house. Lord Brundir’s mansion stood on a hill that overlooked most of Absalom, and the position of the estate said as much about the former adventurer’s wealth as the contents of it did. The whole place was massive, looming over the city like it was a small town in and of itself. The mansion stood at least three stories high, with several turrets that reached further still. The footprint of the mansion had to cover a few hundred feet on each side, looking like a palace or a fortress, depending on how you looked at it. The grounds themselves spread out from it in spiraling pathways and runic patterns to the different hedges and plants that populated the area. He could feel the magic in the air, the intense of power of the carefully curated flora that gave the area such a sense of life. It wasn’t the sort that plucked at his soul or his magic, so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the assassin’s invisibility spell or the contract on him, but it was still there, still always present. If anything, the magic of the grounds felt like it was trying to keep things in order, make sure that they followed rules, like a posted watchman and list of laws rolled into one. For example, he hadn’t known that one was not to walk on the stone circles that linked the different paths until he’d tried, only to find himself paralyzed until he pulled his foot back from the rock. [i]It’s one way to keep order, I guess,[/i] he thought as he looked around. [i]Though, from what…[/i] It was a strangely empty estate, he had to admit. He knew that Lord Brundir – Gralon, as the aasimar had asked to be called during breakfast – had a number of servants that kept the place in good shape, but he had yet to meet one other than the deva that was the lord was linked to. It was like he and his patron were the only ones to live there. Well, them and…the prisoner. She had to be remembered, too. Vitus winced as he thought of her, hidden in the lower levels of the manor out of sight, out of mind for the most part. He had to remind himself that the drow was still there, considering that his patron didn’t do anything to remind him. It was like she had been completely forgotten, for the most part. It was strange, too, considering that it had been such a public attempt at assassination. The guards should have been demanding the return of the prisoner, taking her to jail or possibly killing her on the spot. Even with the prestige that Gralon had with the city, it was a surprise that the local authorities hadn’t taken the case in hand. [i]That’s if they even know she’s here…[/i] That was the worrying thing. He had insisted that they treat the prisoner with some respect, that she not be tortured, and Gralon, to his credit, had sworn that would be the case. But without seeing her… Vitus shook his head, feeling a familiar stirring that he most definitely didn’t want at that point. He glared down at the crotch of his pants, seeing the familiar stiffness slowly pushing forward, then down one leg. The sorcerer took his good hand and flicked his balls. The sudden ache stopped the growth, but it didn’t make it shrink back to where it was supposed to be, as it normally would have done. He sighed, shaking his head as he leaned his head back against the rear of the bench. “Too long…” Hazel had been gone for a while, and in that time, he’d been ‘faithful’ to her by keeping his hand off his crotch. Not one day had gone by where he’d actually released all that pent-up need, and he planned to keep it that way for as long as possible. As long as he kept to that rule, he felt that he’d be able to feel confident about pursuing something more…serious…on her return. But it did mean that he got distracted on a regular basis, and for all that it had been a brief fight in the tavern, he had gotten a good look at the drow woman. A very, very good look that stuck out in his head. He blushed as he remembered how she’d been dressed. Tight leather armor, tight enough to show her bust to its fullest extent and to hug her hips in a very…very revealing way…White hair that barely came below her ears, with piercings that glinted and glimmered along the sides of the pointed ears, and a lithe body that nevertheless seemed to be curved in all the right places… Vitus slapped his cheek, shaking his head. The mental picture had been more than enough to start a certain part growing again, and the last thing that he needed was to be showing [i]that[/i] off. He might be wearing slightly baggier pants now, but the shape was still distinct enough that someone might notice it wasn’t entirely human. He looked down at it again, his bulge just barely visible as pointed rather than rounded. It was still very, very canine, and he was now all but sure that the shape would never entirely fade. It was a bit embarrassing, but… Well, if he was able to be with Hazel, she’d already proved she loved it. And if he had to be with someone else…well, maybe he could find a freak like him. Vitus was still lost in thoughts about what he’d do if Hazel didn’t come back when he heard the clip-clop of his patron’s footsteps approaching. The human sat up a bit straighter, his arm sliding off his thigh as he looked over his shoulder. The white-robed, purple-skinned Gralon smiled at him, eyes still glowing that strange white color that they always did. The aasimar came to a stop at the other side of the bench, his arms folded behind his back. “It seems that you have been keeping your own company this morning. Would you mind if I joined it?” “Not at all. Sit down.” His patron did just that, taking a seat beside him. The height difference was rather extreme between the two of them, nearly as much as it might have been between him and a minotaur, if one included Lord Brundir’s horns. The other man looked out at the rest of his estate for a moment or two before glancing his way once more. “You seem to be uncomfortable.” “I’m still – mmph.” He hissed as he felt the pressure on his soul again, resisting the urge to press his hand against his chest. It wasn’t quite there that the pain came up, but it wasn’t far from it, either, almost like a heartache and heart attack rolled into one. “Still getting used to that?” “As much as I can. I’m starting to think that’s not possible.” “I would imagine it’s not. Anything that works on the soul tends to be a little bit…tricky.” “You don’t say…” “I’ve heard that you have had some experience with matters of the soul, come to think of it.” “Uh, no. Not that I can talk about, at least.” “Heh, you know that will not be an excuse that works forever.” “As long as the Arcanamirium stands, it will.” “Oh, I don’t know about that. There are loopholes in every contract, after all,” the aasimar said, folding one leg over the other. “After all, if you make the contract too tight, then you forbid yourself from doing too many things. And if you make it too loose, then you have no authority. It’s all about finding that perfect balance.” “And you’re good at that, I imagine.” “It’s the reason that I managed to thrive after leaving the adventuring business…and why all my former partners are no longer remembered.” There was a hint of regret on the aasimar’s face as he spoke, and Vitus wondered what had happened to the rest of that party. The entire city knew Gralon Brundir’s name, but now that he thought about it, there was nothing to the stories of the other people that he had traveled with. Sure, there were mentions of a cleric, here and there, and sometimes of a fighter, but one might have been forgiven for thinking that the aasimar did it all on his own. After all, there were no names mentioned. Ever. He blinked as he realized that there was such a huge hole in the stories and history of one of the biggest icons of the city, shaking his head rapidly. There was something wrong there, but he doubted this was a good time to think about it. “Are you comfortable here?” Gralon asked. “Hmm?” “Are you comfortable here? You seem…unsettled.” “It’s…Well, it’s a lot to take in.” “Heh, I’m sure. There’s more freedom here than in the city.” “There’s more, uh, space, too, isn’t there?” “Hmm?” Gralon smiled. “What do you mean?” “Well, where’s…everyone, I guess?” “You mean the servants?” “And the petitioners, and your visitors, and the city authorities, and…everyone. It’s like you’re existing in a little bubble out here. I mean…you’re famous.” “Yes, I am.” “But nobody comes here? No fans, no adventurers, nobody looking to teach them? Nobody?” “Oh, they come. But I am the one that decides how they arrive, and where, and when.” That was an insane amount of power, if that claim was true, but there was little evidence that it wasn’t. The more that Vitus looked around, the more he realized that there was more to the magical feeling in the air than just a set of rules, of law and order. Or rather, that the rules of law and order that the runes put off did more than just set the rules for people. It set the rules for the local reality. [i]My gods…[/i] Vitus’s eyes opened a bit wider as he let himself actually study the magical tension in the air, his head slowly shaking back and forth as he realized just what sort of power he was witnessing. Gralon had re-written the rules of entry, of space and time in a limited area, and he had made it very, very clear that anyone that entered the grounds did it by his authority and his authority alone. [i]To break through this…gods…you’d need a god to break through something like this,[/i] he thought. [i]It’s like the ultimate in privacy. There’s nobody that can bother him that he doesn’t want to bother him.[/i] He couldn’t help but be impressed. The power of the aasimar was something that few would be able to match, and it was a testament to the power of his patron. He had chosen a good one, he realized. “I see you understand now,” Gralon said with a small chuckle. “What do you think?” “I think that you’re pretty scary, when it comes down to it.” “Well, provided that you work as hard as I think you can, I imagine that you will reach a power level similar to mine. After all, there’s much that can be said for sorcery that cannot be said for wizardry.” “And vice versa.” “And that is why you are working for me rather than the other way around. I can be sure that our abilities…complement each other.” There was a hint of something else in that statement, something that Vitus hadn’t been ready for. The way that the aasimar looked down at him again, the way that his patron smiled, the way that Gralon seemed to wink, almost, when he said that… [i]Is he…flirting?[/i] Of all the things that he had imagined would happen to him when he was out of the Arcanamirium, this was not one of them. The idea of being flirted with by a patron, by an employer, was not what he had sought out, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t even know how to respond. He did, however, take a slight slide along the bench, putting a few inches of space between himself and Gralon. He cleared his throat. “I, um, hope I don’t misunderstand, but…were you, um, meaning magical complementing, or…something else?” “I imagine that you already figured it out, Vitus. After all, you did save my life…but you are hardly the only sorcerer in this particular city. I think that, if there was a need to go for the best, I could have kept looking.” “…but?” “But there’s a certain amount of beauty to you, and I think that keeping something good-looking in your employ is important, so long as that good-looking individual also happens to be competent at their job.” “…I think that’s a compliment? I think?” “Heh. It is. It very much is.” The aasimar reached out, and Vitus received his second surprise. A little touch, a little squeeze along his thigh that was nevertheless almost possessive in the strength that came with it. His cheeks burned as he realized that it was another man that thought he was good looking, someone that had…had a great deal of influence…and power…and…could probably make him do… The sorcerer jumped to his feet, and almost immediately toppled over again as his balance failed him. The dead arm was making it hard to keep himself balanced, since it didn’t adjust itself and just hung from his shoulder like dead weight. He groaned under his breath, struggling back to his feet. It took some help from the aasimar to accomplish it, and he blushed as he was dusted off. “I’m, uh, very flattered by the attention, Lord Brundir.” “Gralon, please.” “Gralon. But I am promised to another.” “Is that so, hmmm?” “Well…we were…” “Did you say the words, hmm?” “…Not out loud, or directly to each other…but…” “Heh.” Gralon smiled at him, shaking his head. The aasimar turned away, looking towards the estate once more, and Vitus was thankful for the moment to collect himself. He didn’t know how he was going to deal with this, how he was going to tell his employer that he wasn’t, well, gay, but… “Do you remember what I said about contracts?” “Huh?” “Do you remember what I said about contracts, and loopholes?” “…Yeah. That if a contract is too tight, it forbids getting what you want.” “And if it’s too loose, then there is no authority.” Gralon smiled. “If you want to assume that you and your beloved are signed to a contract, of course, that is up to you. However, I get the feeling that the only one that bothered signing the contract is you. If you are concerned about that, perhaps you should take the time to scry her. It’s a very basic spell, as you know…perhaps you should see if you are the only one keeping faithful?” “…” “It’s no insult to your beloved, of course. But if she is not keeping to the terms of your agreement, perhaps you had best look to your own happiness. After all, a contract is far more easily broken when it is less than fair to all parties.” “I’ll take that…under advisement.” “See that you do. I wouldn’t want an unhappy servant, after all.” The aasimar smiled, patting him on the arm before turning back to the manor. Vitus cocked his head to the side. “Do you really think I’m…” “Good looking? Of course. And besides, that unique ‘attachment’ of yours certainly makes you more distinct.” “You knew?!” “It’s rather obvious, Vitus. Enjoy the grounds, and the sun. I’ll talk with you tomorrow about what you figure out.” # In the dungeons beneath the manor, Cazna Illistyn waited. The failed assassin was tied to the wall, not with metal, but with magic. Her arms were bound overhead, and her legs were chained in an entirely unorthodox, uncomfortable, and ill-fitting manner. She growled under her breath at the discomfort that she was left in, but there was little that could be done without someone to growl at. She was positioned like a whore at one of the corner brothels, forced to squat on the balls of her feet, her heels pressing against her rump while her knees were spread as far apart as they could go. She could feel the strain in her thighs from maintaining the position, but knew that she would not be allowed any comfort or respite from the position, either. Her head was pulled up and back, her neck and her waist locked against the wall by binding spells, and her breasts were shoved forward by a rock right against the middle of her back. All in all, it was a flaunting pose, and one that left her shaking from time to time. Although the bindings gave her some comfort, some extra stamina to hold the pose, there had been several cramps over the last few days, and she knew that another would come soon. Particularly as she heard the footsteps of the one that would deliver them. Cazna Illistyn stared at the top of the stairs, the spiral steps that led out of the dungeon slowly lighting up from a white flame further up. She clenched her hands into fists, her muscles everywhere tensing up as she struggled again against her restraints. It didn’t work, of course. Without her enchanted weapons and armor, there was nothing that she could do against this power. Her target came down the stairs, still dressed in a white robe, his eyes glowing the same shade as his clothes. Lord Gralon Brundir, a man of power, of influence…of danger. “You taunt me,” Cazna muttered. “Caging me like this instead of destroying me. You can’t imagine that I will give you anything.” “I think that you will give me far more than you expect, young woman. Particularly after scrying where you came from.” She narrowed her eyes at him, even as he came to a stop outside of her cell. He reached out with a finger, a spark of light forming at the tip of the digit before – “Nnnngh!” Lightning arced across the space between them, the electricity striking her chest and between her legs. Hard rods of metal, piercings that she’d been ‘forced’ to take, pulled the shocking energy into her nipples and across her clit. Thankfully, it was not a full-powered burst of lightning, merely enough to tease, to hurt and please in equal measure. Cazna gasped for breath as the shock faded, leaving her dark flesh a little harder…and a bit wetter between her legs. She shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to shift her position, but she couldn’t quite hide the pleasure that burst between her legs, the wetness running along her thighs from the sharp shock. “Now that I have your attention,” Lord Brundir said. “I would like to discuss a contract.” “You…you cage me…you taunt me…you humiliate me with guests to see me like an animal…” “And yes, I still ask for a contract,” he said, folding his legs and sitting down just past the bars of her cage. “It’s not that outrageous, I feel. After all, you are useful.” “I am an assassin. I’m here to kill you.” “And if you sign the contract, I’ll be safe.” “You’d be better off killing me if you want to be safe.” “Ah, perhaps. But then another assassin would come. And then another, and another, until whatever demon lord you serve runs out of servants and realizes that it will need to come to take me himself.” The aasimar smiled in a way that no mortal, divinely aligned or not, should smile when considering the power of one of the great demons. He looked at her with supreme confidence, as if he could fight off the rulers of the underdark with ease. If he believed that, then he did not know them. He did not – “Now, tell me, Cazna.” “…” “Yes, I know your name. And I know your…proclivities. What will it take to have you on my side, instead of the demon’s?” “Your head.” “Heh. I could offer you many heads, besides mine. Why would you need it?” “So my master can be sure that you don’t threaten their plans.” “Their plans, their plans. Is that all that the demons think about? The same plans, again and again and again. Always reaching for the great city, always striving to take it from the mortals that own it, run it, organize it. If one of them took it, Absalom would be a wasteland in a decade, at most. “Has your master thought of how he would deal with the Arcanamirium? Has he considered how he would master the retired adventurers that have slaughtered his minions time and again that live in this very city? How he would deal with the gods and their followers that would not tolerate the incursion against them, the breaking of the treaty? Has he thought of any of this, hmm?” Cazna had no answers. She had not been privy to the secrets of her House’s demon lord, and that was the way that she preferred it. The last thing that she needed was to be pulled into the realm of demon politics. The aasimar warmed to his topic, though, and he continued. He got to his feet, pacing as he spoke. “The demon lords are little more than fools, constantly reaching for more than they can handle. They are grasping, avaricious creatures with no comprehension of how the world changes, how fast it turns from one thing to another. They want Absalom? They could not hold it if they tried…” “And you could?” “Heh…” She had meant to antagonize him, perhaps push him to use a more deadly spell. Instead, he turned to her with a smile, and as he looked her in the eye, she felt something else. Something…powerful, dark… Deadly. Fear, something that she hadn’t felt since her earliest training, struck her hard. She arched her back, almost willingly thrusting her chest forward, spreading her legs further, thrusting her hips in his direction. It was an immediate submission that she had learned among many partners that had ‘trained’ her other skills, a way of showing that she would submit, that she would give them what they wanted so long as they didn’t take it too far. She had barely realized what she’d done, the drow’s eyes going wide as the aasimar looked away. Lord Brundir crossed his arms behind his back. “You are a skilled assassin. To have you among my servants would be a true boon for me, and something that would increase my reach and capabilities greatly. You will not get my head…but you [i]will[/i] be able to sate your other appetites.” “What…” She had to swallow. “What are you talking about?” “Your body. It craves other touches, does it not?” “…” “There are demon lords that bind their servants with hungers in order to control them. I cannot remove that from you – yet – but I can give you a way to feed them. You will not starve in my service. You will not…lack.” Somehow, Cazna realized, they had changed roles. She had been in control of herself when he had come down the stairs, and she had pushed several buttons, making him rant, rave, perhaps even expose more of his plans than he had meant to. She had been the one setting the pace, calling the shots, making sure that things happened the way that she wanted them to. Now, however, Lord Brundir was the one in charge, and he was the one that was pushing her buttons. She didn’t know how he had reversed it, but there was no doubting that he had managed it. She shifted slightly from one foot to the other, trying to assuage her cramps. The residual fluids from the shock between her legs continued to dribble down, running in slight rivers to the floor below her. The puddles along the bottom of her feet sent a naughty thrill up and down her spine, making her feel like the animal that Lord Brundir’s guests had seen her as. The aasimar gestured, and she was forced to look up at him. He smiled at her through the bars of the cage. “You will not lack. I promise you. However, I must have your signature on a contract before I can let you out. Tell me…will we have a bargain, little drow?” “…” “Or shall I leave you here so that the hunger can take you? It’s been a day, already…I cannot imagine that your master will leave you in peace for much longer. Can you imagine it? The hunger, the urgency…the emptiness inside you…” She didn’t need to imagine it. Cazna could already feel it. Not much, yet, not more than a hint of the desperate hunger for pleasure and filling, but it was already starting to build. Her masters made her so that she could never defy them without risking losing access to the pleasures that they had addicted her to, and she’d already been without it for twenty-four hours. It would grow, consuming her body and mind until it was all that she could think about. The longest that she’d been without someone’s touch had been a week, but at the end of that week, she’d been half-feral, a rape machine that had been stabbing, drugging, dosing, and ripping through anything that refused to give her what she needed. Cazna remembered the horrible, mindless sensation of having nothing, of needing everything. Only her discipline kept her from showing her growing desperation on her face. It didn’t, however, stop her from spreading her legs that little bit further, showing off that dark flower between her legs. “Consider the offer, little drow,” Lord Brundir said. “I will be back later, with the beginnings of a contract. If the terms aren’t to your satisfaction, I suppose I’ll have to go back and edit them…and leave you here for another day.” “…” “As you wish. I’ll speak to you again later.” Cazna watched the aasimar leave, shaking her head as soon as he was out of sight. The darkness that fell after his flames left was almost soothing, giving her a hint of relief from the heat between her legs. The problem with almost, of course, was that it was never quite enough. The drow shuddered, her legs twitching, her thighs trying to pull together even though she knew that it wouldn’t work. Her body wanted to touch, wanted to be touched, and everything strained for that. As the winds of the dungeon blew around her, chilling her flesh, she grew ever more aware of the slow drizzle of her juices from her sex. Hot, thick, wet, it was like the drippings of a beast in heat. If she wasn’t careful, that was exactly what she would become. [i]Lords below…[/i] Cazna took a deep breath. [i]Lords below, grant this one the strength to see this through.[/i] There was no response, unsurprisingly. The demon lords did not respond without the rituals to get their attention, unlike the gods. She let out another long, slow, shaky breath, her toes curling slightly, her body shaking from the strain of holding her position. [i]That…damn…human…[/i] There. That was something that she could focus on. The human that had stopped her, the power that he’d raised against her. She remembered [i]that[/i] all too clearly. The fact that he’d sensed her before she could strike still shocked her. That shouldn’t have been possible, considering the power of the demon lord that had veiled her from sight. A cleric might have sensed it, perhaps, if they were particularly attuned to the unholy, but a human should have been as blind to it as any other species. For that matter, his sorcerer power should have been blind to it, too… How had he noticed her? How had he overpowered her so easily? Most importantly, did he know whom he’d chosen to serve and protect? Did he know what he’d gotten himself into? [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]