Mistress Xorlarrin, Matron of House Xorlarrin, was bored. Her House was secure, her slaves docile and obedient, her wealth opulent, and her influence in the great city of Menzoberranzan was considerable. Untill recently, Dwerrow bandits had dared to raid her caravans, untill she had gone personally with a detachment of over a hundred of her finest warriors, and rooted them out and put them all to the sword.

She licked her lips at that memory. She had danced amongst them, her curved scimitars flashing in intricate arcs, great sprays of their blood coating her body, leaving her shuddering with bloodlust. She had been gravely disappointed when the killing had finished, and she had not achieved climax in the battle. In their frenzy, they had forgotten to take any prisoners. A disappointment, but Xorlarrin had had so much fun she had decided to buy eight powerful hobgoblin slaves from the market, and constructed a small arena in her sprawling manor-fortress grounds, so that she could recreate the experience.

Here she was now, wearing little but a loincloth, spiked greaves and shoulderpads, her bountiful breasts heaving, her nipples pierced with glittering jewels, and carrying her two favourite scimitars, Rend and Maim. The Hobgoblins eyed her warily, sensing that this topless, lithe Drow was something to be feared.  They raised their own, dulled blades and short stabbing spears and nets warily. Eight of them against only her. It would hardly be a challenge.

She leaped forward, her guards and slaves watching on as if this was any arena fight, but all knowing that the Matron was forbidden to lose. Every guard and house-mage was on standby, ready to intervene, even if it should mean their lives, to save their Mistress.  It was hardly necessary, she thought. She was young, barely two hundred years old, and in her prime.  The Hobgoblins roared, and she weaved amongst them, bending with acrobatic agility, avoiding their attacks as if they were clumsy swipes from toddlers. She swung upwards in a cross pattern, eviscerating the first hobgoblin, blood spray splattering her face and breasts, as the first fell. But she was still moving, even if the feel of cool, sticky blood on her tantalised her every nerve. Her heart pounding, she danced amongst the next two, cleaving arms, cutting bellies, blood fountaining like rain. Too much of it fell away from her, and she was disappointed in her slackness. She needed to practice this more often. 

The remaining five began to bunch up, defensively, realising that she could cut them apart that more easily if they were seperated. She jumped in, bouncing lightly off of a raised shield, her senses heightened, everything seeming to move in slow motion, as in mid-air she cut down with lightning speed, carving the middle hobgoblin in twain. The two surrounding her attacked simultaenously, their spears thrusting at her. Even as she was falling, still through the carved middle, she contorted herself backwards with tactile grace, before letting go of her swords and grabbing the two spears, using them as a gymnast might use her rings to lever herself back upwards, pulling them both down. As they fell, she nimbly lept up, weaponless, and grabbed the net being thrown at her face by another hobgoblin. It was heavy and weighted, and designed to entrap her. She shuddered, the feeling of scrabbling through coarse rope sending her blood racing. 

Pinned to the ground by  the heavy net, she resisted the urge to keep fighting, and decided to try a different tactic. Laying supine, she called out the warily advancing hobgoblins. "You have disarmed me, brave warriors. Perhaps you would like to claim a different prize?" She rearranged herself on the floor, her chest still heaving from the exertion, revealing her dark, erect nipples and the scantiness of her loincloth. 

The hobgoblins knew their work, as they pinned her arms down, grinning. She struggled a little against their grip, but gave them a sultry pout, the splatters of blood along her dark grey skin only enhancing her dark majesty. "Oh, you're not going to stab me with -those- spears are you?" She winked, encouraging, and the Hobgoblins looked at each other, barely able to believe what was happening. The guards weren't intervening. Indeed, some watched with poorly disguised lust, enjoying the sight of their Mistress about to be ravaged. As they got closer, the Hobgoblins dropped their short stabbing spears, and hauled her up, keeping the net wrapped around her neck and arms. She shuddered as they ripped away her loincloth, expsoing her neatly-trimmed bush and jet-black sex. "Claim your prize, Net-thrower." She leaned in like a lover, pushing her blood-soaked breasts together, rubbing the blood across and smearing it into her dark skin, suggestive of what else she wanted them to do. The Hobgoblins eagerly complied. The net-thrower pushed her on her back roughly, tearing aside his own loincloth, his dark-green veiny phallus already hardening. The other four warriors also began to stroke themselves hungrily, their bestial eyes fixed on the entrapped Drow Matron before them.

The Hobgoblin began to penetrate her fiercely, no gentleness or buildup, his shaft punching into her vagina, forcing its way through, sending shivers of pain and pleasure in equal measure through the skilled Drow's body. She moaned at the roughness, feeling her juices running wetly already, as he began to brutally fuck her, his green clawed hands gripping her wobbling breasts as he rocked against her.

She looked around, shaking and gasping as rough pleasure was forced from her, every breath of air snatched, her lungs burning, no letup in his relentless tempo. His hairy balls slapped against her, as he pistoned into her with reckless force, leaving her weak and shuddering, an explosive orgasm sure to come. His rough grip tantalised her, his claws digging into her quivering breasts only enhancing the sensations.

She reached out to the other Hobgoblins nearby, her hands eager to help stroke their bestial cocks more vigorously, encouraging them to reach a quick, messy climax. Another Hobgoblin jammed his precum smeared, reeking cock into her mouth, and she fought back against her gag reflex, as a second long spear began to piston into her throat, using her lips and mouth as a second pussy. She felt glorious ecstasy wracking her body. She was so close! The assault on her senses was tremendous, and it excited her terribly.

Finally, with a howling roar of triumph, the Hobgoblins ejaculated together, five thick streams of salty, gloopy cum spraying all over her. The net-thrower filled himself to the hilt inside of her, a jet of his thick syrup coating her vagina walls and punishing her cervix. She gagged as the Hobgoblin throatfucking her exploded deep into her throat, acrid and pungent seed reeking into her nostrils as it poured down her throat. Hot showers from three other warriors splattered her outside, coating her breasts, her face, and her stomach in their jizz, leaving her shuddering and coughing, as they stepped back to admire their handiwork. But frustratingly, release was still denied to her. She was still so close! Her peak was so near! She wept, her orgasms so tantalisingly near. 

Rising wearily, she beckoned one of the exhausted Hobgoblins near, her hands reaching out to drag his cock closer to her, as she began to lick still more of its spurting seed from its shaft, eager to try and reach that climax. But the moment had passed, and her pleasure was receding. Sighing, she reached around the Hobgoblin, pulling his dagger out of his belt, and in one swift movement plunged it directly into his spine. She moaned as he writhed in death, trying to hold his jerking cock in her mouth as long as possible, but the vibrations weren't enough.

The other hobgoblins watched in awe, and this was to be their mistake. Her speed and sensual lethality were not to be underestimated, even as she was wearied from sex.  She quickly threw her dagger at one of the remaining creatures, piercing its skull, before making a dive for her two swords,  cutting her way through the net as she did so. They quickly went for their spears, but she easily got under their guard, and gutted the survivors, fountains of gore drenching her arms and body. She closed her eyes, drinking in some of the blood, her whole body dripping with cum and blood, and she looked around to her servants and guards, who watched with mixtures of lust and terrified awe.

Every part of her body felt on fire from exertion, her nerves quivering, adrenaline and lust pumping through her veins. But still, no release. 

She cried out, a wordless echo of intense frustration. The spectators shuddered in fear, wondering what the next brutal attempt to satisfy the Matron would be, and wether it would cost their lives too.

=========================================================

Later that evening, she lay in the bath, her two favourite bath-slaves soaping off the blood, her well rounded bosom bobbing in the warm water. 

"Can I truly find no release? Even fucking the slaves doesnt appeal anymore." She sighed, her whole body in agony. How long had it been since she had had a decent orgasm? Something to break the tedium of wealth and power? Once, not too long ago, she had felt complete with her husband. He had been...different. Kind. The novelty had fed the vacuum in her, and she had even let his seed take root, baring their child to full term, finding the experience of pregnancy equally unique. She had never felt....this bored, or this lacking in sensation then. But things had changed, and she had grown bored of her mate. She had made him swear a pact with Lolth, turning him into a Mad Drider, but one fiercely loyal to protecting the House and their daughter.

"Mother? Are you in the bath?" A timid voice asked. Xorlarrin turned, seeing a timid young drow girlchild, her slender, barely post-pubescent body wrapped tightly in a thick spider-silk towel. The Mistress smiled, seeing her daughter frequenting the baths. It was not that Izzara neglected her hygiene, but that she still clung to youthful notions of propiety, and had yet to make use of the Handmaiden she had been given. Whilst it was well for an Heir of an House to avoid penetrative intercourse with male slaves before being wed, it was still something many Drow girls eagerly did as soon as they had had their periods, and some even before then. Yet Izzara seemed awkward and shy, and hadn't even tried the pleasures of the tongue- above or below- with any of her slaves. She was, to Xorlarrin's bemusement, apparently still a complete virgin in every way.

"Of course, dear child. Come join us." Xorlarrin sighed. Perhaps...a spark came to her. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone tonight.

"Izzara, how are you finding your new Handmaiden? She used to serve me well, you know." The Matron smirked, lounging in the water. She gestured to one of her male bath-attendants, who quickly took in a deep breath before diving below the water to clean her pussy. "Gently, now."

The young drow girl blushed, finding her mother's bathroom antics awkward, and her mother's presence intimidating.
"Uh, Thrali is good, mother. She helps me dress and she's teaching me things about the sur-"
"Yes, yes, whatever. But does she pleasure you well? She was trained from a very young age to be a master with her tongue you know." 
"Uh...She's...uh..."Izzara blushed crimson, fiddling awkwardly with her towel, her eyes downcast.

"For Lolth's sake, you are hopeless girl! I will not have my own daughter afraid to assert dominance! How will you ever be a good House Ruler if you can't even pluck up the courage to enjoy yourself? Pathetic." Izzara roared, bucking herself forward, slamming her pussy against the face of her bath slave, who gurgled a little, before surfacing quickly, gasping for air.

"Mother, I'm..I just- don't feel ready, and I dont really like Thrali in that way-" Izzara stammered, her light-grey cheeks reddening.

"Enough. Tonight we are both going to get something thats been denied too long. You are going to have your First Orgasm, and I..." She shuddered. "Will watch." The prospect of exerting this level of power, even over her own daughter, was a new sensation to Xorlarrin, and she was hopeful it might finally give her the orgasm she craved.

The Matron clapped her hands together, summoning her other Bath Attendant. "Slave, go fetch Thrali, my Handmaiden, and my two Halflings, Jeni and Geri. They should prove useful." The Matron smiled, already feeling that familiar tingle flow through her. Even more intoxicating than violence was power exerted, having people helpless.

Izzara frowned. "Mother, what are you doing. Please, this isn't necessary-" Izzara began to back away, confused. Xorlarrin sighed. So this was going to have to be done the hard way!

"Bath Slaves, please restrain my daughter. We're going to have to solve this little shyness problem of yours."

Izzara kicked and struggled as the slaves grudgingly obeyed their Matron. She was slender and girlish still, and the muscular human bath-slaves easily restrained her, though taking care not to harm her. As she struggled her towel slipped off, revealing her ripe budding breasts and smooth, light-grey skin.

"Mother, please! You're scaring me!" The young drow girl shivered, her eyes looking about wildly. 

"Oh do hush up, Izzara. Trust me, this will be almost soporfically gentle for you." She sighed. "Maybe I should just do it myself."

Izzara's eyes went wide, her face turning a deep shade of crimson at the suggestion. "Mother!!! You mean...You can't..."

Xorlarrin laughed, her voice booming and echoing through the bath chambers. "Oh do hush up. No, as fun as teasing you is, I doubt you could satisfy me adequately, even if you share the same blood as me." She sniffed, getting bored. "Where are those slaves? Tell them to hurry up!"

Thrali arrived first, bowing low and respectively. The young half-orc girl wore her usual loincloth and leather wrap around her bosom, her hair done up in a braid. She saw Izzara being manhandled into the bath by the bath slaves, and frowned, a look of concern going to her face, but seeing that the Matron was watching, she averted her eyes, and bowed even lower. "What is your will, Mistress?"

"Izzara's education here has been sorely lacking. I assigned you to be her Handmaiden so you could provide these services."

"Ah, I'm sorry Mistress." Thrali apologised, though she had not wanted to push herself on the young girl, and if the young girl refused there wasn't much Thrali could do anyway.

"No matter. You have an opportunity to redeem yourself here, now. I want you to give my Daughter her First Orgasm."

Izzara was no longer thrashing about in the water, she lay still, cringeing and mortified at what was going on, yet also curious. The Bath-slaves sat either side of her, holding her arms lightly, but she relaxed in the water. She was afraid, yes, but also confused, and a rush of mixed feelings kept her docile, for now.

Thrali reluctantly hastened to comply with the orders, knowing that too much hesitation would anger the Matron. She quickly removed her leather wrap, her petite bust flopping free, a light shade of green gleaming slickly as she entered the bath water, wading towards where Izzara sat, the warm water quickly heating up the half-orc, her cheeks blushing as she contemplated what she had to do now.

Whilst Thrali swam over, two other slaves arrived, two halflings, one with red-hair in a pony-tail and the other with spiky black hair, sauntered over to the Matron in matching leather corsets and silk stockings, holes cut for their perky breasts to peak out of, and generous, well trimmed muffs nestled between their legs. Jeni and Geri were masters of giving and recieving pain for sexual pleasure at Xorlarrin's orders, and had brought plenty of silk rope.

Izzara shuddered at the sight of them. "Mother-?"

"Hush now, child. I can't have the Bath Slaves holding you back throughout this. Not when I could be using them to get myself off. Jeni and Geri will simply make sure you are compliant throughout."

The Halflings silently nodded at the Matron's orders, their high-heels clacking on the marble tiles of the Bath chambers, as they carefully sauntered over to where the girl was. They quietly knelt down behind her, and the Bath Slaves lifted her a little out of the water, her nude body exposed and dripping wet. Silk ropes were carefully and gently wrapped around her arm, and trailed back to tie around torch ensconces. Izzara struggled a little, but the spider-silk was soft and did not chafe, but also did not give her much leeway either. She looked at her mother, her cheeks burning. Her mother looked back, her eyes filled with power-charged lust. The emptiness in her was filling again, her blood racing. Doing things like this, even to her own daughter, was extreme, but perhaps she needed extreme things to sate her appetite now, having lived a life so full of sensation already.

"Mother, please..."

"I said be quiet! Or I'll have them whip you as well for disobedience."

That shut Izzara up, who simply looked down on the pool, her cheeks burning, her young body exposed for all to see. She looked close to tears, but Thrali came up to her, and gently laid a comforting hand on her thigh, looking up at her. The Drow princess looked down at the Half-Orc slave, and saw affection and sympathy, and someone who she could trust. She could not smile, but she nodded, the tension in her relaxing a notch. It was Thrali. The Half-orc who had despite the odds slowly begun to befriend her. There was more to this slave than mere skill with her mouth. She had skill with the heart as well.

"Go on, slave. Let's see what you can do." The Matron leaned back, relaxing completely in her bath, as the two male bath slaves scampered over to her, to resume soaping her breasts and lithe, muscular body, their deft fingers and tongues kneading her flesh and lapping at her most sensitive regions. She watched with glassy eyes as Thrali approached her daughter, and the Half orc began her work.

Thrali began by tracing her fingers around Izzara's exposed snatch, her deft hands working with a consummate skill earned from a life-time of pleasuring her clients. She sinuously drew circles around the young girl's pubis and outer folds, sensiitvely and softly warming her up, teasing the cunny, and making Izzara start to feel warm and fuzzy, the warm air rising from the bath only further helping to relax her. The silk chords which bound her so tightly did not chafe or distract, and if anything simply felt like she was being held lovingly, whilst Thrali began to finger her below.

The young drow sighed, feeling tension continue to drain out of her, as Thrali reached up, using the warm water and some neutral soft creams from one of the bath bottles to help wetten her further, before the half-orc began to slowly insert the tip of one finger, pushing into Izzara's cute pussy for the first time. An electric jolt ran through the young woman's body, and she quivered in her restraints. She looked at the Half-Orc with a smile, who looked back, eyes full of mischief and understanding. Communicating with words was hard with an Audience, but they both seemed to understand each other anyway.

The Drow Matron sighed, and she called Jeri and Geri over, who joined the male bath slaves in their practiced, sensuous massages, groping and licking of her body. Xorlarrin called in the red-head halfling, Jeri, and kissed her deeply, their tongues locking. Xorlarrin got a delicious thrill out of imagining doing this to her daughter, of using her as a toy and having her brought to violent orgasm after orgasm by her slaves. For now, the power of that fantasy was enough, and she tore roughly at Jeri's corset, pulling her breasts fully free and groping them violently, imagining Izzara's petite breasts being groped so savagely. The jaded Matron shuddered at the idea. She writhed out of the water with a light splash. 

"Geri dear, fuck my back-hole, the usual toy will do nicely." she moaned, and the spiky-black haired halfling woman, producing a small, exquisitely carved wooden dildo, began to anally penetrate the Matron, whilst the human bath slave ate her out, the other massaged her back, and Jeri locked lips and let herself be groped and fingered in turn by the Matron. But despite all this, Xorlarrin's eyes were firmly locked on the spectacle of what was occurring to her daughter.

Thrali began to finger Izzara more steadily, her fingertip becoming two, and the tips becoming full lengths as she jilled the young drow, another hand circling her clit and teasing her folds, the vibrations increasing as Izzara shuddered. Normally loss of control terrified her, but in Thrali's practiced hands she felt freer than ever had, despite nominally being the Matron's daughter, she had been treated like a toy and a prop since she had been a very young child. Even now, she knew, this was for her mother's twisted benefit, but it was easy to forget that, and to just focus on Thrali's hands.

"More...please..." She sighed, and the Half-orc complied by leaning in, her tongue beginning to writhe and lap at her sex as well. She yelped in pleasure, the unfamiliar sensations suprising but stimulating too. The Half-orc felt herself growing hot, the taste and smell of Izzara's juices exciting her, as she plunged her tongue into the drow's vagina. The assault on the young drow's senses were quickly becoming overwhelming, and she felt herself feeling increasingly hot and shaky, feeling something alien but exciting building in her. She knew she wanted more of this feeling.

As Thrali continued to writhe her tongue deeper and deeper, she became increasingly frenetic as she teased and massaged Izzara's clit, one hand even snaking behind the slender Drow girl and cupping her butt, playfully massaging her soft behind as she continued to tongue-lash her increasingly soaked pussy.

"Uh...Thrali...please...I want...ah..." Izzara squeaked, feeling her senses overwhelmed as this force building within her became overwhelming. Her whole body was tense, and she felt frustrated, wanting this, whatever it was, to just....break.

Thrali nodded, smiling, her own face flushed and body aroused, the taste of the young Drow almost pleasurable after some of the less hygienic people she'd had to service in her time. She pushed her finger deeper into Izzara's overflowing sex, and began to rub against the secret spot that she knew was in many women's vaginas, the so-called "G" spot. 

Izzara cried out, her whole body vibrating and burning at the same time, her first orgasm rocking through her with suprising force, a flood of further ambrosia rushing into Thrali's mouth, the pungent, heady smell teasing her tastebuds and filling her nostrils with musk. The spasming muscles of her pussy thrilled Thrali further, and she longed to grind herself against the Drow girl, to feel her own vagina rubbed and tantalised.

Xorlarrin felt herself feel an equally explosive climax, 4 slaves massaging her, eating her out, making out with her and teasing her anus with a wooden toy nothing compared to the rush of power, of knowing that she controlled her daughter utterly, an externalised sex puppet, a more virginal version of herself who could experience all the things that had become so passe to Xorlarrin, and, by seeing Izzara experience them for the first time, allow Xorlarrin to re-experience them vicariously.

The Drow Matron came, and came hard, weeks of pent-up frustration wracking her body with violent spasms of ecstasy. She wrapped her thighs around the head of the Slave eating her out under-water, and thrashed about, almost drowning him as she pinned him against her quivering vagina, torrents of her sap running in thick rivulets into his mouth and nose, gagging him.

She gripped hungrily at the Halfling slave's perky tits, leaving claw-marks as she thrashed, her echoing cries filling the room. Finally, relaxing back into the waves, she released her half-choked slave, her whole body still shuddering and vibrating with pleasure. She felt completely drained, exposed, vulnerable, but more importantly, content.

"Aaaaaaah....so good. If I can find even one slave who can satisfy me that well..." she shuddered. "I would give everything." She said, woozily, before sinking into a tranquil snooze. Her slaves looked alarmed, but the Matron's weak, exhausted body lay comfortably in the pool.

Izzara sighed, her own orgasm still leaving her rosy-cheeked, even if her mother's loud and painful orgasm had irked her. Even in sex it seemed, her mother had to always dominate her, outdo her in extremes. But there was one thing Izzara could see she had, as Thrali helped undo the silk chords, and lay in the water beside the exhausted young girl. As Thrali's warm, soapy green breasts pressed against her, and she felt herself snuggling tight against her Half-orc slave, she knew she had a friend and a confidant, and someone who could couple sex with affection for her. Izzara knew that like her mother, she would give everything to anyone who could match or exceed that.

"Thank you Thrali. I...uh...am sorry we didn't get to do this sooner." She blushed. Izzara simply grinned back at her.

"It's ok. Maybe if you want you can uh...do me next time too?" The slave blushed in turn, her boldness in making such a direct request of any of the Mistresses shocking her. But Izzara simply smiled sweetly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Thrali knew too, likewise, as she cuddled against the slender drow girl, that she'd found a Mistress who might be prepared to treat her like an equal, or at least treat her with something approaching kindness and friendliness. The idea was equally shocking, but pleasant.

They lay together in the baths like that, Master and Slave, taking comfort in one another's warmth and flesh, for a long time. The other slaves did as their standing orders told them too, and gently, quietly, dragged the Matron back to her bedchambers, so that she could sleep in comfort. None dared harm her, even though most bore bruises from her less than gentle thrashings as she had climaxed.

For a brief, quiet evening, Thrali and Izzara lay together in each other's arms, forgotten by the satisfied, slumbering Matron, and able to enjoy a rare moment all to themselves. They did not dare dream of freedom, instead only of the comfort the moment could bring them.

They nuzzled together, and slept, gentle sloshing bath-water soothing them.

===============================================================================