==SEEDING MIDNIGHT, PART SEVEN==

Relan awoke, dozing in the arms of the Lady Izzara, her hot breath on his neck. He smiled, feeling oddly at peace, awakening so. It was difficult not to feel something for this young drow woman, for all that she came from an alien and cruel society, and that her mother had enslaved him. He gently brushed some of her silvery-white hair out of her face, seeing her softly breathing, and kissing her pale lips softly. He ran his hands delicately over her delicate, petite breasts as they rose and fell. Little more than handfuls, really, but he could appreciate her well-toned body, her youth and vitality. 

There was definitely something relatable and almost...human in Izzara’s girlishness, her sweet and generally unselfish approach to lovemaking. But, for all that, he had to remind himself that she was also a Master, and himself a Slave.  He had to put his freedom, and the freedom of friends like Thrali’s, above any other consideration. To love Izzara now would be a selfish betrayal of the man he truly was. No, he decided. She was not someone he loved. But she could be more than simply an obstruction or an asset. Perhaps in time she could be more something more, if she was ever free of her mother's influence.

“Good morning.” He said, as Izzara slowly came awake, looking into his eyes, and blushing. “What are you doing here- Oh- oh gods, you shouldn’t-“She turned away, rising, clutching the thick sheets around her, and turning her back to him. Even her shoulders were perfect, he marvelled, though his gaze quickly lowered to her petite, sweet, firm ass.

“Whets the matter?” He asked, again talking to her as if she was his equal, something she barely seemed to notice.
“You can’t be here with me. If they find you-“
“Can’t you just say you ordered me here?”
“I- Well, the thing is-“
Thrali came bursting in through the door, in a panic, and gave a startled cry at seeing Relan. “What is he still doing here? Ah, I mean, my Mistress...”
“I know, Thrali. I know. I’m sorry. Please, can you hide him or stall them or something-“
“What’s going on? Why the rush?” Relan was confused, and more than a little surprised at Izzara’s apology to Thrali. Did Izzara imagine that Thrali was her equal, too? Her friend? Perhaps their relationship was more...complex than he had initially realised. Then again, he thought, perhaps it was Thrali who had helped Izzara come to feel this way about her slaves? She was certainly special.

“No time. Put your loincloth back on. Come with me.” Thrali grabbed Relan and dragged him bodily from the room, taking him quickly down a narrow servant’s side passage, just as the door again burst open, female house-guards flanking the Matron Xorlarrin, causing Izzara to shriek.
“Mother, please, I’m naked-“
“Naked? You should be dressed. And ready.” She sniffed, suspicious. “I trust you have not been engaging in bedplay, especially since you are to be Presented to your first potential husband in less than two hours.”
Relan gulped, remembering how he had flooded Izzara with his seed. She was probably still sticky down there, and more than a little flushed from the hard fucking he had given her earlier. 
Thrali shushed him; putting her finger to his lips, and guiding him quietly back through the tunnel, desperate to take him out of here. They came again to the strange lattice-gate, which could only be bypassed by the blood of Xorlarrin or her daughter. Thrali fished a tiny thimble from her work-pouch, and frowned. “Oh, gods...”

“What’s the matter?”
“I only have enough for one person to make the passage. One of us will have to stay here.”
“You go. I can endure the Matron’s wrath.” Relan offered boldly.
Thrali snorted. “You have never felt it, and can have no idea what to endure.” Thrali shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
“You go. You are still her favourite. I have...disappointed before, will be less shocking and perhaps less pain involved.”
Relan surprised her by leaning and hugging her, his hands gentle on her scarred back. She looked at him, and he knew that there was a mutual connection here.  “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He lied.
She stared at him, frowning, and was about to reply, when with sudden speed he grabbed the thimble, throwing it at the lattice gate, and pushing her through even as it melted open.
“What are you doing? Are you insane?” She yelled, but he simply watched her with steady eyes as the gate flowed back into place between them.

“I’m sorry. I can’t take the risk that she’d kill you, or worse. I’m her favourite, and I figure I can exhaust any wrath coming our way. For all of us.” He smiled, though his heart was pumping, fear gripping him. What he was doing was insane, but it was his ability to master his fear that had brought him this far.
He had decided he was not going to leave this place alone.

He turned his back on the silently fuming Thrali, and slunk back along the private quarters, hiding in the narrow servant tunnel. He slunk back, deciding to spy on the goings-on, perhaps gain some valuable info. Plus, it would help him evade capture, he reasoned, if he was hidden away rather than standing in an open corridor.

He was shocked at what he witnessed, peaking through the crack in the door. The Matron had tied up her daughter, thick silk chords spread-eagling her against the wall. His vision was somewhat obscured as the Matron paced back and forth, a thin leather crop in her hands.  She was ranting angrily at her daughter, and occasionally aiming a none-too-gentle THWACK at parts of daughter’s arms, legs, and even her soft breasts, causing him to wince in sympathetic pain.  To her credit, Izzara was not saying much, simply wincing, her eyes welling up with tears.
“My dearest Izzara, if you can’t stand even this mild punishment how can you possibly enjoy the cornucopia of pain that a truly grand wedding night brings? And I –know- your wetness is from illicit bedsport. I do hope you at least practiced –some- of our techniques with whatever poor sap you exploited-“
“No mother. I did not. We were making love, the way surface dwellers do.”
“HOW DARE YOU!” Xorlarrin roared, and delivered a hearty THWACK to Izzara’s thighs, leaving a reddening welt. Izzara cried out, her chest heaving with sweat and exertion. He was agog in awe. These Drow really were mad...

“We have too little time for you to have one of your petty little spats, daughter.  Gods, I can’t believe I sired a milquetoast such as you. And to think I rewarded your father with becoming a Drider. He was clearly too weak to deserve such an honour, giving you such...absurd and degenerate ideas.”
Izzara simply stared at her mother defiantly, her face burning.  Relan ached to do something, but he dare not interfere....

“Enough! Your intransigence sickens me. Well, if you think you know what it is a proper Drow lady needs and doesn’t need,  then perhaps I will have you show me what it is you should have been learning to do with the slaves, instead of rutting with them like...like they were anything but animals.” Xorlarrin spat. 
“You’re wrong, Mother. They have nobility-" Xorlarrin didn’t bother with the crop this time. She simply delivered a full-handed slap to her daughter’s face, leaving her crying, and her face stinging.
Relan stood bolt upright, yearning to leap forward and intercede.  But then, his collar began to burn.
“You petulant child. Fortunately for you, I have summoned a toy who you may practice with. You may recall this one. It is my favourite, the cock-slave Bolo. You –will- learn how to master pain, receiving...and giving it.” Xorlarrin smiled cruelly.

Relan felt his neck growing hotter, a powerful urge to run to his mistress’s beck and call overwhelming him. Panic began to grip at him. If he arrived this way now...
He tried to resist the powerful compulsion being exerted on him, but it was beginning to physically pull him from his hiding place. Building pressure and powerful exertion jerked him into the room, like an invisible leash yanking on him.

He was thrown to the ground in front of Xorlarrin, who looked at him in surprise. “So...you are the one who has filled my daughter with seed and with nonsense.” She curled her lip in distaste. “Perhaps to be expected. Oh, Izzara, you absolute fool.  You fall head over heels for the first man –commanded- to service you?  You are not just a disgrace to my House, but to our very Race, with your childish absurdity.” 
Xorlarrin began to laugh, a high-pitched, mocking chortle that she covered her mouth partly with her hand for.  Relan burned, feeling for poor Izzara. To live with a mother this cruel and condescending...
“I was going to make this quick, as you do have a Presentation to go to. But a lesson like this...requires time and care.”

“Milady, Mistress, please, don’t blame your dau-" Relan tried. The Matron looked at him with stunned horror, before her face curled into the most furious and ugly visage. 

“YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME BEFORE YOU ARE SPOKEN TO? YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT AS TAME A DOG AS I HAD HOPED.  NO, YOU WILL BE BROKEN AND BROUGHT TO HEEL NOW.” She screamed with fury. She made arcane gestures with her hands, and yanked on an invisible leash, which solidified into a line of solid blue-light, running from Relan’s collar to the hands of the Matron. She pulled him in further, till he was at her feet.

“You will lick my boots. Now.”
He looked up, eyes blazing with long-suppressed defiance. This was one indignity too many. “N-"
She kicked him in the face, her leather heels ramming into his mouth, almost causing him to gag.
“Lick, Slave.”

Reluctantly he ran his tongue over the rough tanned leather shoes, the taste making him feel sick and nauseous.
She kicked him away, cutting his lip, causing him to bleed slightly, as he gasped for air, retching.

“This is how we assert mastery, Izzara. This is what being Drow means.  If you cannot learn to embrace this mastery, to do as I do, to enjoy the giving of pain, the use of those born inferior to us, you are not ready for a Husband. I will send word to the mate to wait a few hours in our hall, and to avail himself of our pleasure-slaves. The delay will be a minor insult, and I will have to pay for it. I will make you both pay ten times any inconvenience I must endure. This is what it means to be Drow.” She was ranting again, as she waltzed cockily around the room.  She bent down to where Relan was groaning, and yanked him up by his thin grizzled brown hair, causing his eyes to water. He thought hard about struggling, resisting, punching her, but try as he might he could not force thought into action.  He was limp and weak as a fish, putty in her hands.

“I have a special pain in mind for you, Bolo. You have disappointed me greatly. And you, Izzara, will watch, and suffer pain of your own, until you embrace it, and take command of your urges.” Xorlarrin licked her lips. “I will enjoy this greatly; for all that the delay embarrasses me.”

Xorlarrin began to weave her magic again, and this time sticky strands of magical web bound Relan’s arms and legs, lifting him up into a similar spread-eagle position as Izzara. He looked across at her, shooting her a glance of reassurance and sympathy. She looked back at him, dumbly, not comprehending.
“You will beg me for more pain, Bolo, for only then will I grant you orgasm and release.” 
Xorlarrin began to whip him across the body with her crop, each thwack a stinging blow across his arms and chest. He restrained the urge to cry out, being made of sterner stuff. He would endure. He would not break. His name was was not Bolo.

“My name...is...Relan...” He gasped; his fury and defiance bubbling out at every blow.
This only caused the Matron to laugh. “Spirit! I see I was wrong to leave you so long without proper training. Perhaps you thought you were enjoying yourself? Enjoying my body? You sicken me, surface worm. You will crawl and beg and lick and weep before I let you have the grace of any enjoyment from my pure body again.”
The Matron unbuttoned the clasp on her exquisite bodice, letting it drop away, revealing her impressive bosom.  She looked at him with a nakedly predatory gaze, seeing him as little more than meat to be used and abused.
She ran her crop gently along his cock, pouring a trickle of her magic into making it grow, to transform, becoming huge and engorged. He shuddered with paroxysms of pain and pleasure in equal measure, a massively hard erection draining the blood from his body, his balls swelling and bloating with reservoirs of cum.

Xorlarrin bent down, wrapping his huge shaft in between her own massive breasts. She began to slide up and down, her rippling dark flesh sending quivers of ecstasy along his length. He gasped, feeling his own lust building quickly. This was a far rougher, quicker, dirtier coupling than the sensuous intercourse he had had before. She was using him purely as she wanted.

She continued to concave her breasts around him, building up speed, titfucking him with precision, her cruel, shining eyes looking up at him. He moaned, gritting his teeth, feeling pre-cum begin to dribble from his penis.  She wiped the precum around her breasts, lubricating them a little, and slowly took the head within her waiting mouth. She began to suck and tease his erect member, her tongue slithering and writhing over him, and he felt cum welling up in him.

She pumped up and down, taking more and more of his huge, bestial phallus within her mouth; throat-fucking him with relish. She gripped his balls, squeezing tightly, painfully, another hand sliding further under, around, fingering his prostate, causing his hips to buck and thrash. He yanked at the webbing, the constraints, shuddering and bucking madly.

“Ah, please! Please let me cum!” He finally gasped, waves of yearning washing over him.
“Please what?”
“Please, my Mistress!”
“You may cum. cum now, all over my bosom, fuck slave.”
Immediately he erupted messily all over her heavy breasts, jets of stringy, gloopy semen coating her dark breasts, a white sheen stark against her ebony skin. Yet even as he did so, he felt no sense of release, no surge of pleasure or joy. Instead he felt a blank disconnect, his lust undiminished, the ache in his rigid member unsatisfied.

The Matron, however, moaned rapturously, catching some of the fountaining cum on her face and tongue, letting it run down her throat gleefully. She began to massage the cum into her breasts and over her skin, shuddering with her own delight.

“You have made me very wet, fuck-slave. But we are not done.”

He moaned, writhing against the bindings. She took her crop and thwacked him precisely, three thin strips, along his thigh, and once more on his cock. The pain was like a bucket of ice being dropped on him, making everything sharper, more intense, more eager for relief.
“Please! Ah...Please...Let me have release...” He forced the words out, wincing, feeling true humiliation at last.
The Matron was exultant. “See! See how easy it is to break this scum? We hardly need enslave them, so totally are they mastered by their need to rut.”

Izzara looked at her mother sadly. “And how are we different, using them this way?”
Xorlarrin spluttered, genuinely lost for a moment. But she quickly recovered, turning with lightning-fast fury and punching her daughter in the gut, causing her to double over in agony, hanging limply from her restraints.
“You love these animals so much? Maybe you deserve to be treated like one too. Guards! No, I have a better idea.” She grinned evilly, her eyes flaring.

“Bolo, you want release? You will take it from my daughter. N’kasa Volat.” She shouted, and suddenly Relan felt his mind begin to fog, a veil of bestial rage and primal lust descending over him. He felt his thoughts slipping away, his jaw slackening, his eyes dimming. He had only one thought. One need.

To fuck.

Xorlarrin watched evilly, the restraints dissolving at her command.  Relan- no, Bolo- began to flex, his huge spear painfully erect, a straight rod held before him. He closed on Izzara eagerly, his hands roughly gripping her, pawing over her body, given over entirely to his lust.
“No, please, stop...I command you...”
“Ignore her commands, Bolo. Take what you want from her.” Xorlarrin said.
He eagerly complied, his hand dipping to her sensitive mound, running over her delicate flesh, his fingers spreading her and rubbing her clit, causing her to shiver involuntarily.
His need to rut, to fuck, to lose himself in his urges was overwhelming, dimming all feeble thoughts of resistance. He grunted as he slid himself painfully inside of her, causing her to gasp, her eyes watering again.
“Please...no more...Relan...”
He began to piston inside of her, slowly, rhythmically. Xorlarrin sat down on the bed, sliding a hand beneath her skirt, fingering herself, watching the unfolding scene. “Mmm...Yes...ravage her, Bolo! Like you would any other animal.” She giggled, beginning to grip and massage one of her breasts.
Izzara looked at the human in dismay as he began to fuck her painfully, with none of his previous gentleness or care, sliding in and out rhythmically, consumed with only his own need.
He grabbed Izzara’s petite tits, squeezing and rubbing her nipples between his fingers, taking one in his mouth and biting, sending a chill of pleasure through her. Despite her pain, her body was sending her mixed signals. The betrayal by her mother, the whole situation was overwhelming. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe this was the only way. The best way.

Yet as Relan began to fuck her, his desperate need to cum and find release building again,  she eased into him, kissing him, trying to claw back some of that...feeling, that unique pleasure and sense of warmth and contentment and so much else she had found in their previous frenzied lovemaking.
She slid her tongue along his, their lips locked, and she tried to find some measure of that spark...some hint of that specialness she had found, was yearning for.

Bolo continued to pound her, his balls churning. He rocked her back and forth, her restraints loosening from the force of their sex, but also weakening as the Matron lost focus on her magic, jilling herself with increasing intensity, losing herself in the pleasure of seeing her daughter humbled and despoiled.

“Yes...more! More! Soak her with your seed, Bolo! You wanted my cock-slave so badly, Izzara, now you can have him!”
He came again, this time with a wave of long-suppressed relief, his orgasm rocking him to his core, as he climaxed deep inside her, his seed once again bursting forth in torrents, rippling through her folds and spraying deep into her womb. He gripped tightly on to her, his hands clenching at her breasts and sore nipples, as he exploded again and again, emptying oceans of cum, which began to trickle and then flow out of her slit, splattering the floor.
Xorlarrin reached her own orgasm, letting out a sharp cry, as she shuddered and bucked on her daughter’s bed, feeling spent and exhausted.

Izzara sagged back, her restraints dissipating, and they both collapsed to the floor, disentangling from each other, panting with their own exertions, spent and overwhelmed from their exertions.
But despite his fatigue, Relan felt the lust-mist leaving him. He felt a measure of control coming back to him.
He knew what he had to do, what opportunity he had to seize.

He charged at the exhausted, content Matron, his hands going for her throat.

===TO BE CONTINUED===