Legends of Belariath

dis`Zariel

Natha statha d'chath lu'ssinssrigg

The hit came unexpected. The touch of fist to side of his face, sending the Half-breed sprawling to the ground, hitting the cold floor with his side and shoulder, flow of black clothes around his form, shredded shirt displaying flawless physique below, single red, glaring scar visible for a moment.

"Disappointing..."she would murmur, her words mere whispers, seductive and quiet as his Teacher would step from the shadows, looking at her hand, opening those long, slender fingers, watching a single bead of red to taint her knuckles, before her cold, uncaring eyes would settle down upon his form. "You did not see me even coming, did you?"she would ask, a cruel smile twisting plush lips, allowing the male upon the ground to see how much she enjoyed these kind of games, response was a near smirk, dip of tongue out to gather some of that crimson vitae, taste the copper of it.

Hands placed upon smooth, black marble floor, the Half-breed would slowly move back up on his knees, feel of cold leather of pants caught between ground and his knee, tightening of blackness against thighs, his head lowered, Ivory hair falling into features, eyes glancing up at her from between those snowy strands, smirk, firmly embedded upon closed, finely chiselled lips, tense of facial muscles below smooth, pale skin. "Nau, An’kin..."he would quietly respond, melodic voice, strong, yet carefully measured in its volume, as if he was trying to gauge her..

Settling upon his knees now, hands placed upon thighs, shoulders rolled back, straightening his spine as best as he could, head lifting, eyes, piercing strength within, seeking out her own, the taste of crimson on his bottom lip, the stain of blood there, coating corner of his mouth, slow, deep indraw of breath, a slow rhythm established, the brush of ripped shirt of his to move slowly upon firm curve of pectorals, the just so display of right flat pad of masculine nipple every time his chest would expand with each inhale.

Her steps, the sound of heeled boots upon the ground, that shadow like creature he called Teacher, a Moriel, Enemy, secret hidden away from his Mother and others within House, owner of his body by decree of mother tired of the games of her son, yet not mind, her touch to his shoulder, the slow caress there, letting fingers move further towards his neck and then upwards there until she could capture earlobe between pads of thumb and forefinger, the rustle of her clothes as she would lean down and forwards, exhale of hot breath to shell of elongated ear, the beat of his heart increased, if only a mere moment long. "You did not cry out, again. I wonder what will be necessary to make you... submit this time, my dear boy."

Set of jaw in response to her words, the lowering of brows upon those sapphire colored eyes of his, the slight tilt of head forward, curl of fingers into tight fists, the feel of his muscles rippling, shaping, hardening along his form, as if he was about to get ready to jump up and attack her.

"Disappointing, my nek... disappointing." Half breed would hide that smile, pride hurt, if nothing else, head lowering further, allowing more of his features to become hidden, the hard swallow that followed her words, attempt to regain control, feeling it slip away from his grasp. If anything, his Teacher knew how to get him upset, how to bring forth emotion and anger from within. No one dared to call him –that-. He was, after all, the son of Matron within house, even though, as a male, he did not count much, yet, out of some reason managed to be raised in a way only very few of his gender would allowed to even dream about. Every whim served, even to the level that the lowest of females would know to bow their head to him.

Sound of leather falling to the ground, instant response of a shiver dancing over his back, as he knew what was about to come, what every night was happening, a ritual, a dance of control for his body, his obedience, tainting it with her sweet poison, a kind of game the two could play, although it was never him who would lead and always her, not by choice, but by decision of Matron, and yet, could one deny the response this would produce with him? The slight twitch of length within pants, even as anger overcame him for the mere thought of it, how much he enjoyed the dangerous touches, whispers and pain they would unleash upon each other? No, in turn it would only help to set his inside ablaze, to prove who was truly the Master and who was just another Moriel Slut.

Hint of his head turning, letting gaze settle down upon gleaming steel placed left and right of his form. Two swords. Blades that were his to use, elegant and long, each one would make a unique kind of sound when swung through the air, his mates, or so she had explained to him, two Shamshir Scimitars. The sigil of their house set within each hilt, a reminder that everyone belonged to the House itself even as she made those weapons part of his soul and very being. "Come, male. Let us see if your rage is at last strong enough to overcome me."her voice, soft, an amused chuckle to dance along each letter, even as she was slowly stepping away from him.

No reaction.

No sound.

Nothing.

The seconds were trickling away, turning into minutes, while his hate for her was slowly gnawing away on his resolve, the wish to not be her toy once more, only the knowledge of her being there, waiting for him, would keep him company, and every moment that passed would have him become more centered, more secure about her next actions, for she was known to suddenly attack him, hurt him, predictable in her movements, despite her great skill, the abilities to deny him revenge still, smiling at him with chill filled eyes..

It happened quickly. His hands shooting towards those two swords, wrapping fingers about grips even as he would catapult himself upon feet. Twirl of swords between fingers, then lift of one blade above his eyes, the other below, stance taken up, one blades tip aiming to the right, the other to the left, battle about to begin, the blaze of his eyes, reserved for her and no one else, narrow of gaze down, heritage apparent as irises would turn to crimson, his rage unleashed as he would shoot towards her with a vengeful sound, muscles tensing, dance begun.

The half breed would turn about himself several times, each one accompanied by a slash with right hand, high, followed up by a low slash with left handed sword, each one aiming to hurt his Mistress and Teacher with precise, dangerous attacks, flutter of black clothes about his form, trying to confuse his most hated enemy, the Moriel woman who held his leash, upon cursed Mothers decision, who controlled him, and now that anger was unleashed.

"Haa! Haa! Haa!"he'd shout out, make each attack be accompanied by that sound, sharp exhale, while she seemed utterly unconcerned, dodging and blocking his dangerous blows with nothing else but the dagger she held, one of the best fighters of all, not merely Teacher and Priestess, but also excelling in the Matters of war, no surprise, for she was the Weapons Master of the House, a position which gave her this beautiful opportunity to make her own what was the Matrons, games played, like always, one using what was the others, to humiliate and gain advantage.

"Foolish male, I think I will give you to the guards tonight if you do not show any betterment in your abilities tonight... not worthy to rest within my chambers, are you?" words which would trigger a response within Half Moriel/Half Torian, his eyes widening, lenses dilluting, his heart skipping a beat, and she would succeed with what she had tried for, opening the floodgates of his rage held within, usually controlled by his daily training and hours of prayer within Kirvas own temple.

Cry of anger finding its way from his throat at last, the clench of teeth, suddenly each attack of his was becoming more ferocious, speed added to it, lightning of blades dancing, swinging, swirling, bringing the male closer and closer towards his, allowing him, for the first time ever, maybe, to actually push his advantage, breaking through her defenses, which she seemed to see with surprise. Her small frame, not as high as his, yet, curvaceous, and quick, would react accordingly, have her twist and shift form about, dodging his swings and stabs with an expertise that would even become visible through the half breeds state of mind, already knowing he would not be able to best her today, but trying nonetheless!

Too late. She had achieved what she had set out to do, to break his concentration, to break his dance, to make her own, personal Warrior become a victim of his own emotions. Suddenly she was close, moved inbetween his arms to press her own form against his chest, firm, round breasts captured in armor corsage against pectorals, the feel of long digits brushing against shredded clothes, seeking the flesh behind, the dance of nails over bare skin, his breathing stopping, his heartbeat skipping a beat. "Nauxxizz lotha ssindossa" her words, then he already felt cold tip of her weapon against his abdomen, the sharp pain to come next as she pushed blade, short as it was, inside, up to the hilt, parting flesh and skin as if it was nothing.

"Nnnghhhaaahhhhh!"he would scream out, pain upon features, distorting handsome face in delicious agony, swords falling from his hands, hitting the ground hard left and right of boots.

Teacher pushed forward, making the male hit the wall behind, shoulderblades meeting stone, lean, muscular form meeting with rigid surface, producing another quiet "Nghh!" from him, but like always, this was not the end, for a moment later he could feel her lips at his throat, the way she would part those luscious tiers to softly press a kiss to his skin, her words little echoes in his elongated ears "You are such a pathetic toy, I should break you and be done with you..."words spoken, a near disappointed sigh, the dip out of tongue, draw along the glistening surface of throat, she loved to taste him after he had expended himself, salt upon her tiers.

What was left of his shirt was slowly becoming drenched with his vitae, crimson fluid seeping down his midriff, flowing under rim of his pants, warm, wet, his very essence being lost to that vicious attack of hers, even coating her fingers by now, which in turn she would lift to gently draw those pads over his quivering lips, painting his masculine tiers in his own blood, laughing at him, considering him beat, defeated. Then the surprise, lips turning into a grin, curling upwards while those sapphire eyes of his would lower, catching her own, whispering forth, the heated breath of his softly brushing against her own tiers “Why, if you come so close, I might think you wish to mate me…”surprise caught within her own gaze as his fingers would curl into her hair, taking fierce hold, tightening grip until she was unable to escape, her own astonishment playing a greater part in her momentary helplessness than one might think, then him kissing her, deeply, intensively, his tongue pushing into the hot cavern of his mouth, seeking out her tongue, only to find it respond in kind, have both muscles spar, fight, roll around each other until he left her breathless the moment he withdrew. "Mhm, maybe you are use for something, if only as my slut..."he would whisper forth, even as she panted. Her eyes dazed, blinking slowly, nearly as if drugged, then dis`Zariel pulling her slightly away from his own form, her suddenly understanding what was going on, but too late. Backhand would catch her before she could ready her defenses, sending her to fall down to the ground, her own crimson tasted for once, a quiet hiss escaping her plush tiers, hand reaching up, drawing through her tresses, moving away from gaze, then back of hand to corner of lips, finding trail of blood being lost upon dark skin of digits, eyes rising up to look towards the male she underestimated.

“My Mother played enough games with me, and I am through with you..”he’d growl under his breath, reach for grip of his dagger, fingers taking hold, eyes closing for a moment, head leaning back against cold wall behind, the intense concentration visible upon his features, then clench of teeth, surpressed cry of pain as he’d rip blade forth from within his flesh, sinking on his knee’s as strength was leaving his form, having him nearly loose consciousness, doubling over, dagger pressed upon the stone floor below, head touching marbled surface next, forehead to cool plane. Cough following, pain slowly subsiding until it was merely in the back of his head anymore, those fierce, stabbing like thrusts of screaming flesh, racing through veins up into his head, into his mind, setting nerves ablaze, and yet, he could not allow himself to wait till she had caught herself.

Blood covered fingers lift, brushing white hair of his out of his features, tainting snowy strands with his crimson vitae, ignored, it was not important. His features, streaks of it crossing from cheek up over forehead, not important, his anger, more important than anything else. That and to teach his teach a lesson that was long overdue. Climbing back on his feet, swaying for a moment, left hand pressed to his side, holding that blood which was still freely flowing in thin streams, of course she had not hit any vital spot, for the Matron would have skinned her, arrogant smirk there, the draw of tongue over bottom tier, then his half bow towards her, nearly as if he was congratulating her, only to next make a step forward, reaching out with his blood drenched hand, gripping harshly into her hair, once more snow colored tresses turned red, pulling her up on her feet, sounds of pain falling from her lips, slender fingers of hers were wrapping around his wrist, unable to stop him. “And now, we will give a gift to my mother. Come with me, -pet-.”the way her eyes would widen would tell him everything, and in a way, he was more than pleased with this information. She had been one of those who only bedded other females, and he knew exactly –which- female. How very nice… this would be twice as much fun for him then. Dragging her behind, the soft little cries and protests of hers ignored, he would make his way up, knowing exactly where he was marching to.

***

Sounds of pleasure, the press of naked, sweaty bodies against each other, strong arms curled around her, dark skin stained by his blood, white sheets tainted by his vitae, he did not care. Primal hunger had overcome, and there was no fighting back against such. Moans, cries of pleasure and pain, the draw of corded muscles against her, pressing one who was to be his teacher down into the sheets of bed, strong, nimble fingers pressing into her skin, the twist of nipples, the whisper of words, dirty, blasphemous, humiliating and demeaning, hair matted to their foreheads, the taste of her salt upon his tongue. “You are mine! Say it!”He demanded, once more fingers curling into thick, ivory hair of hers, pulling her lips to his own, that sharp bite there, the drumroll of his heartbeat within ears, her unable to speak, beyond lustful little grunts and moans, her breath being stolen, needed by burning lungs while loins would piston against her own, thick girth being thrust into her hungry core, then a second hand joining, fingers placed against her throat, nails sliding over skin, a little exclamation of pain joined in that sound of need, once more he demanded it. “Say it! Speak it, -teacher-, or I will punish you more than this!”flush of face, the reddening of cheeks, eyes glaring up at him, facial muscles playing under dark skin, the part of those plush tiers, the inhale of breath, taste of sex, blood and sweat in the air, and yet, she still refused him.

A growl from the depths of his throat, gripping her sides, literally turning her around mid-thrust, not even giving her the time to respond or try to deny him, no, a breaking part of a second it took, then she found her face pressed down into pillows, his hand at the nape of her neck as if she was merely an animal, forced onto her hands and knee’s, her hips pulled upwards, allowing him to return to that harsh fucking, sliding throbbing cock harshly, roughly into her tight pussy, leaning over the female, her quiet, muffled cries of pleasure and pain only barely registered in those elongated ears of his, lips of Half-breed against her neck, once more the taste of hers, then would whisper quietly again, tone of voice dangerous now “Say it, slut. Admit that I am your Master, whore.”her fingers curling into the sheets, nails slicing through white fabric, her attempt to rip head free from his grip, yet unable to do such, a scream of anger that was tempered away into a low, throaty moan as he’d slightly change the way he’d thrust into her, letting crowned tip of member graze over special point there, watching how her arms would quiver slightly, how what little resolve she had was slowly erroded by his constant manipulation of her form. “I…I-I..”she would start, only to cry out, rise her head up, the spill of those white, long hair of hers over shoulders and down gleaming back, expression filled with pain, with need that was hammering into her and could not be fulfilled. “Kirva! Gods… Kirva!”She’d exclaim and in turn he would merely smile, would help her though, pulling the girls upper body up and then pushing her against wall connecting to bed at upper part, ramming into her now with deep, relentless rolls of hips, feeling how her sweet nectar was trailing down the insides of her thighs, covering the length of his meat, dripping from balls with every invasive stroke into her very depths he would commit. “Kirva… Dis….I.. I..”so close, closer, oh so very fucking close to give in, but that moment the thundering sound of doors being opened, slammed into walls could be heard, the dangerously low, and grating voice of his Mother, the footsteps of her guard, as they would enter the bedroom... no, not *the* bedroom, but -HER- bedroom, for how else could one humiliate a Matron if not by defiling that which was her very own sactum and playground? Ah, the sweet taste of taking revenge. Such a thing one could never have enough of.

“What. Is. Going. On. Here?” She would say, and he’d cease his fucking, in fact, would lean slightly back, releasing the House Weapon Master, Mistress of blades and daggers, which he had just been rutting like they were animals. “Ah, Mother! How nice of you to look in. As I was telling your Weapons master…”once more that rough grab of her hair, pulling her up and back against broad plane of his chest, grin upon his lips, grind of his hips against her own, making sure he was truly filling her with the whole length of his cock, the girls features dazed, vision unfocused, hard little swallow there, trail of saliva had escaped down the corner of her lips, trying to look at her Matron, yet unable to do such…. “… that she sure does have a nice little snatch, and that I am glad that she allowed me to see what the big thing was about her.”voice trailing off, expression of his changing slightly, pure smugness, the way his lips would curl, the glimmer within those sapphire eyes of his, truly indulging himself now with the next words he would speaking “…for, what is good enough for my mother, must surely also be good enough for her son, no?”

“SEIZE THEM!” raise of voice, anger within evident, then the quickening of foot upon floor, soldiers appearing, surrounding the bed, hands, a half dozen, grabbing her, drawing her off his body and aside, he could not, instead the loss of blood would take its toll at last, as view would dim, eyes falling close, even the laughter of his of his own and the hisses of his Mother would slowly fade into nothingness.

***=a Few days later=***

At last the Moriel male had gone too far, and his Mother would not allow him to walk away from this one. Indeed, she was seething with anger, and it had taken all but the last ounce of willpower to not have him flayed and cut open where he laid, but she could not, would not, for, out of some reason, Kirva had only deigned to give her this one off-spring. Stripped of the Honor of his weapons, his armor taken away, most of his clothes as well, a mere “Ssinjin Zakath Dagger” placed in his hand as well as some food, wine and then he was sent on his way. Punishment to be given, banned from the home of his Mother, taken away from Mistress, to prove his worth, or at least that he did not deserve to be given to Kirva on the fourth night of the month, so he was given single task. Seeking out and meeting the one who was his Aunt, rumors having arrived even in the Nethergloom about her history, about how she had found a human and wished to take him as a mate. Nearly as profane as dis`Zariels own actions, if not worse, decided that one horrid act could, maybe, be erased by uncovering a second… and yet, in a sense they did him a favor, for at last he had escaped the Nethergloom, to either betray his Aunt or to carve out his own place within world.

Moving to Nanthalion would prove itself to be both a boon and a curse, for the time spent here involved the angering of the Noble Tamryn as well as seeing how very derelict the temple of Kirva seemed to be. Quickly, but surely, the Cleric would begin to undermine the lacking efforts of the local Temple Priests, while also making deals with former enemies, like Sutara. Things were coming together with the bloodswan moon, which saw the Moriels and Kirvans rise up to prominence, allowing him to further his goals towards gaining control of the Temple itself. Sooner or later, he would become the most powerful 'servant' of Kirva, and then, he would destroy her cult...

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