by Mike Truk
“Never,” she growled, propping herself up on her elbows, sweat running down her brow. “You think one little orgasm will -”
“Come harder than you ever have before,” I commanded her, and her head snapped back. Her eyes rolled up to reveal the whites as I simultaneously began to pound her, losing all restraint, reaching down to cup her asscheeks, and hammer her as hard as I could.
Netherys jerked and spasmed, her whole body shaking as if she were having a seizure; her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she lost all control, her head shaking up and down with each of my thrusts.
No sounds. No breathing. She was locked in the burning core of her orgasm, her mind gone, obliterated, her slender body jiggling beneath me.
I felt my king troll stamina fueling my thrusts, that burning core of unquenchable energy giving me the strength to go on and on, plumbing her depths, pounding her without surcease.
This lasted for what felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than ten seconds because she wasn’t breathing, was practically comatose. Then her chest unlocked and she sucked in a desperate breath, her eyes rolling wildly.
I placed my hands against the undersides of her knees, pinned them to the bed on either side of them. Her ass curled up higher as a result, and leaning over, I continued fucking her, my face inches from her own.
Her eyes were completely unfocused. Her tongue sticking out, drool running out of the corner of her mouth. Lost. Lost to an orgasm that swept her far out into some private inner ocean.
My own climax was building, growing, and when I could finally hold back no more, I unleashed myself deep within her, coming again and again with a hoarse cry of my own. Her ass pulsed, squeezing me, and I lost track of myself, of time, of the horrors and pain, the misery and loss.
All of reality contracted to that one connection, the bond between Netherys and me.
With a gasp I sat back on my heels, my cock pulling free. Netherys curled her knees to her chest and rolled over onto her side, body hitching, jerking still, out of her control.
Heaving for breath, I watched her, growing concerned. Was she too far gone?
But slowly she came back to herself, her breath rapid, her chest rising and falling, the spasms growing less intense. At last she wiped her hand across her lips, blinked rapidly, and turned to stare at me in alarm.
“You all right?” I asked, unable to resist a grin.
“That was… I mean…” Words failed her. She closed her eyes tight, frowned, tried again. “That was dangerous, Kellik.”
“That intense?”
“The only time I’ve come that hard was as a dark elf,” she whispered, slowly rising to one elbow to regard me. “The culmination of a month-long ritual, an extended process of abuse, seduction, arousal, and manipulation. The ritual through which I wedded Mother Magrathaar and became one of her witch elves.”
“Oh shit,” I said. “Netherys - I’d no idea. I’m -”
“No, don’t apologize.” She reached out to squeeze my bare thigh. “I never thought I’d reach such heights of pleasure again. And this without the barbed whips and other torments. To go straight there?” She flopped back onto the bed as if overcome. “Incredible.”
“Does… I mean, to go back there as a high elf…” I hesitated, unsure as to what exactly I was asking. “Is that dangerous for your current self?”
“Oh, yes…” Her words were more a gratified sigh than anything else. “Very dangerous. But so exquisite. I can feel the old fever arising within me. The dark need. My high elf self burning before that black flame.”
“Do you want to stop? To not go there?”
“Oh no. There’s a reason I’ve been a dark elf most of my life, Kellik.” To see such a wicked grin on her high elf face felt blasphemous. “I want more. Unless you’re too tired?”
As if in response, my cock arose, growing hard just at the thought.
“But let’s calibrate your orders a little better,” she whispered, sitting up and reaching for me. “Let’s find a way for you to fuck me right to the point of oblivion and then keep me there, hanging, never cresting, until I’m wild, begging you, needing release. Until I’d do anything for it, anything at all. I want you to make me weep, Kellik. I want you to break me. Use your powers to take me where I’ve never been.”
Her fingertips slowly traced trails of fire around my swollen cock head. Once more she assumed that mock innocent expression, reaching up to curl her white locks behind one long, elven ear. “Can you do that for me, master? Can you break me upon the anvil of your desire?”
“You’ll do exactly as you’re told,” I growled, moving forward, pushing her down before me. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll be reforged.”
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered. “Break me and remake me anew.”
And with a dark smile, I leaned down to kiss her and make her utterly mine.
* * *
I descended the stairway feeling like a king, going two days now without sleep, my body torn up from three solid hours of lovemaking, Netherys was by my side, hand in mine. I escorted her down the steps as if she were a queen, and the others below gaped at the sight of her.
Her skin had turned ashen, her hair a purple so dark it was nearly black, ears backswept, body lithe and sinuous in a way that no human dancer could ever have hoped to achieve. Confident, at ease, sensual, and darkly amused at the stares from below, she exuded an imperial presence, her body searingly feminine, her alien face hauntingly beautiful and cruel.
“What…” began Cerys, then gave her head a little shake. “I don’t understand what’s happening. She can go back and forth…?”
Pony was seated in the back corner of the entrance hall, a jumble of blue stone limbs, head hanging down between his knees. His sledgehammer propped athwart his rangy shoulders, hands draped over the shaft as if in a stock. He eyed Netherys as she came down the steps, then pursed his cracked lips and blew a lonesome whistle, appreciative and melancholy all at once.
“There, there,” said Pogo, patting his shoulder. “I’m absolutely positive there’s a lovely lady troll awaiting your tender ministrations somewhere out there in the world.”
“Cerys.” Netherys was nothing if not coolly amused as reached the foot of the stairs. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I don’t know what I’m seeing.”
“I feel more myself this way,” said Netherys, releasing my hand and giving a slow spin, so that her purple hair fanned out for but a moment. “And by Kellik’s side, with what’s to come? This me will assuredly be of more use.”
“So you can switch back and forth?” asked Cerys.
“No,” said Netherys, eyes gleaming. “It takes provocation. And I have been suitably provoked.”
“I don’t get it,” said Cerys, “and that’s fine. I don’t need to.” I saw her put the thought from her mind as she turned to me. “What’s the plan?”
“Veserigard has sent riders after Tamara. The Star Chamber will be electing a new Royal Provost soon, whom I’ll bring under our control tonight. In the meantime, the city is awash in violence. Aunts and Uncles flexing their strength without any restrictions from Aurelius. I’ve been made the temporary commander of the Port Gloom militia. We’re going to go rouse ourselves an army, and then crush the Family one member at a time.”
“The Port Gloom militia,” said Cerys, tone studiously neutral. “That different from the guard?”
“It is. The militia is only raised during times of war. During peacetime, a small percentage patrols the city walls and protects the Provost’s tower. When raised, the guard gets folded into it.”
“How large a force are we talking about?” asked Netherys. “And I can’t imagine they’re of very good quality.”
“I’ve no idea,” I said, unable to resist a grin. “But the guard alone is a thousand strong, and that’s really all we need. Anything beyond that is extra. We’ll take the Provost Tower elites, bring in the forces on the wall, and then ro
ll right over the enemy.”
“Is that a good idea?” Cerys frowned. “Once you unleash the guard on the streets, it will be hard to rein them in.”
“My thinking is this,” I said, moving over to a suit of plate armor that stood against the wall and taking the longsword from the empty gauntlets. “Our goal is twofold. One, I want to crush the Family’s leadership. But two, I want to send a strong signal to the people that order will not be broken. I don’t want the city devolving into bedlam.”
Cerys didn’t look convinced. “The Family is almost completely made up of men and women ignorant as to its true purpose. They don’t deserve to die.”
“Think of it this way, Cerys, dear,” said Netherys, leaning languidly against the stair post. “We are destroying the city’s true infrastructure. We need to replace it immediately with something else. For too long the guard and militia have been seen as a joke, little more than pawns used by the elite to protect the Garden and Palace districts. Now?”
I picked up right where she left off. “Now we’re going to show the city that the guard is going to step up. That they’re going to enter the power vacuum and hold it without hesitation. It’s a new day for Port Gloom. We’re going to see how well it responds to a legitimate and functioning police force.”
“And you’re going to legitimize it how?” asked Cerys, crossing her arms. “There’s probably no more corrupted body in the city than the guards.”
I smiled. “They were corrupt. But I’ve a way of convincing folks to have a change of heart.”
“Each and every one of them? A month will pass before you’re finished.”
“I’m going to try something new,” I said. “Giving commands to larger groups. We’ll see how it goes. Regardless, we can’t allow the city to degenerate into chaos. We need to calm things down.”
“And eviscerate the Family,” said Netherys, tracing the contours of the carvings about the stair post with a long fingernail. “Don’t forget.”
“Don’t worry about that. In the meantime, Pogo - I want you to hire back the team you’d put together to work the printing presses from before. I need you to begin going through Aurelius’s paperwork. If anybody can make heads or tails of his financial empire, it’s you. There’s no sense in letting it go to waste. If possible, we’re going to use that wealth and influence to help heal the city.”
“But of course, Master Kellik. That sounds positively thrilling.” Pogo drew himself up. “I shall begin at once. Will Veserigard be amenable to being questioned?”
“I’ve instructed him to obey you as he would me. Use him as you see fit.”
Pogo rubbed his green hands together. “Ah! Delightful. Something to keep my mind occupied.”
And like that, a dark cloud passed over my joy. Yashara should have been here with us. Leading the military initiative, helping to plan the assaults, ensuring we weren’t overlooking any crucial angles.
Yashara. Fell, ferocious, and powerful beyond measure.
I thought of the hempen sack upstairs on Aurelius’s desk. “See to it that her remains are safely brought here,” I instructed Pogo. “Veserigard said he’d make sure it happened, but I want to be certain.”
“Of course,” said Pogo, bowing his head.
“All right. Time to head the Provost’s Tower. Pony? You’re with us.”
The war troll grunted, a basso rumble that came from deep within his chest, and pulled himself to his feet. He slid the sledgehammer down and around so that it hung before him, a weapon so mighty I’d barely have been able to lift one end.
“Here,” I said, extending a scroll tube to Cerys. “Veserigard’s information on the Aunts, Uncles, and their bases. You can review it as we ride to the tower.”
“Very well,” said Cerys, taking the tube. “You sure this is the right way to do this?”
“No doubt in my mind,” I said.
“You haven’t rested,” she said.
“I don’t need to.”
“Everyone needs to rest.”
I paused, focused on myself. I was at once exhausted and exhilarated. There was a fire burning within my core that fueled my every move, keeping me alert and sharp and motivated to keep going.
Could I sleep?
Sure.
Did I need to?
Not really.
“I’m good,” I said. “Honestly. This king troll business is giving me reserves I never knew I had.”
Cerys nodded grudgingly. “As long as you’re careful. We can’t have you collapsing in the street.”
I laughed. “Worst case scenario, Pony can sling me over his shoulder. Now come on. It’s time to crush the Family.”
Chapter 4
“How do we pick our first target?” asked Cerys, sorting through the sheets of parchment as the carriage bumped and jostled its way down the street. “The whole city is claimed by one Aunt or Uncle or another.”
“Good question,” I said, leaning back and staring out the window. You’d never know the southern half of Port Gloom was rioting from the Palace District’s streets. If anything, traffic was quieter, and those walking along its pavements hurrifed along, as if intent to get home before a storm broke. “Thoughts?”
“There’s a dozen listed here. Their natures reflect the districts they control. So, for example, in the Garden District, we have…” Her clever fingers quickly walked through the sheaf of parchment to the right page. “Uncle Asavaris, a former nobleman who was saved from execution by Aurelius over three decades ago. His knowledge of the upper class has allowed his con men, burglars, and kidnappers to work over the district without causing the kind of violence that would incense the nobility. On the other hand, down in the Noose, we have…” And again she finger walked through the sheaf. “Uncle Kavark, a… werewolf? Who leads the largest crew of enforcers, thugs, and assassins in all of Port Gloom. They’ve practically nothing in common with each other.”
“Other than having agreed to Aurelius’s plans,” said Netherys softly.
Cerys inclined her head. “There is that.”
“We should focus our attention on the heart of the rioting,” I said. “Then fan out from there.”
“From what I can tell, there are eight Aunts and Uncles south of the Snake Head.” Cerys sorted the documents into two piles and set the slighter one aside on the seat. “Two in the Market District, one in the Temple District, Kavark in the Noose, two more covering the docks, and the last two covering the Merchant District right by the Field Gate.”
“The rioting will be focused around the markets,” I said. “Fish Market, Market Square, with the Noose just north of them both. I’d wager Temple is pretty quiet, and the mercenaries who guard the merchants to the east will keep things quiet there as well. So: the Noose, the docks, and the Market District.”
“Five all told. Kavark in the Noose - he’ll be a tough nut to crack, given how impenetrable those alleyways can be. Covering the docks we have Auntie Delilah and Uncle Yestov. Both human, apparently, though possessed by demons. In the market area, we have Auntie Yllidris, a… sythillarian? What’s that?”
“Snake hybrid,” said Netherys. “They claim to be descended from dragons, but that’s nonsense. They can shift forms, becoming either human or a massive constrictor, but mostly rely on their supernatural charisma and ability to mesmerize anyone who meets their gaze to get by in the world.”
“Yllidris is a snake woman?” I sat back. “Huh. I mean, everyone always spoke of her legendary beauty and how she could twist any man around her finger with but a smile, but… wow.”
“You knew of her?” asked Cerys.
“Everyone did. Growing up on the docks, you heard plenty of rumors and urban legends about the Aunts and Uncles. The more mysterious they were, the more folks speculated. I saw Uncle Yestov once. Came to visit the Sodden Hold. Massive man, big as Pony and must have weighed six times as much. I couldn’t figure out how he even managed to walk, so fat he was. Delilah was seen as a drunken madam, working a network of who
res and thieves up and down the length of the docks. Most folks said she was mad, but nobody ever deposed her, so we reckoned she had some wits left.”
“And Kavark?” asked Cerys.
“Bad news. Made Eddwick and I glad to be part of the Sodden Hold and not in the Noose. Bloodthirsty monster, he was made out to be. Little did we know how true that was.”
“The other Uncle in the Market District is an Uncle Prune. Heard of him, too?”
“No,” I said. “Prune? There was an Uncle Quern when I was last in the know.”
“Well, Quern’s gone, Prune’s in,” said Cerys. “Veserigard says he’s a wizard, specializes in summonings. Has a menagerie of monsters at his beck and call.”
“A wizard. Great.” I looked back out the window. “Well, enough guards will kill whatever he calls.”
“So which first?” asked Netherys. “I’m of a mind to crush Kavark in his stronghold. It will send a powerful message to the other Aunts and Uncles, and move us a good way to winning the psychological battle.”
I grimaced. “Entering the Noose will be a bloodbath. An endless maze of blind alleys, cul-de-sacs, and so filled with traps and buildings primed to collapse that the guard’s not been seen in there for decades.”
“Could it resist an army?” asked Cerys.
“If we literally flooded every alley with militia? I suppose not.”
“Then that’s what we should do. Kavark has the strongest crew. Says here that he’s got a half dozen Gloom Knights, a cabal of werewolves, three shadow mages, and hundreds of regular enforcers. As long as he’s standing the rest of the Family will feel secure. But if we crush him first, the others will reel in shock.”
“Getting the guard to even go into the Noose will be a miracle,” I said. “But you’re right. Perhaps the fact that I want to leave him to last is enough reason to destroy him first.”
“How big is the Noose?” asked Netherys.
“Six city blocks, more or less. Nearly impossible to say.”
“Then we need enough forces to attack from all sides at once. Hem them in like a noose, and draw it tight around their necks. Otherwise, they will flee before us like rats from a burning ship, and disperse into the city.”