**Along with adding the chapter number with these posts, I’m also adding the series title now too. Other chapters are in my post history.**
The table squeaked with each thrust. Plates full of food clattered to the floor, spilling expensive meats and drinks. Servants would come in later to clean up the mess. Richter could afford to be wasteful. As the Governor of Bayreach, he had an income to rival kings, even if most of his physical authority was restricted to a guard corps where half of them were drunk half of time. A whole chicken rolled off the table and fell with a splat.
Giladi held the far end tightly, bent over and legs spread. Richter’s fat, sausage hands were wrapped around her waist, his gut on her lower back as he continued to fuck her in the ass. As far as their sexual adventures went, being bent over was as good as it got, because then she could twist her face in frustration and grit her teeth. When she was on her back, she had to smile and moan like a ditzy whore.
“Gods be damned,” wheezed Richter, who always wheezed and sweat too much when fucking her. “You’re so tight! I never thought I’d enjoy a dark-skinned whore this much.”
“Th-thank you, Master.” Giladi moaned, her voice a higher pitch than normal. She didn’t understand his obsession with her skin color. It was just *skin*. Some warlocks in Wrunelend had use for skin flayed from criminals, but Richter was hardly using her for dark and occult activities. She yelped when he slapped her ass.
Cum drooled down her legs as Richter continued. It wasn’t his. The man had certain fetishes, one of which included Giladi being fucked by someone else, and then Richter using that same hole. Something about being sloppy-seconds. Earlier, he had allowed a pair of the male cooks to each cum in her ass. The servant staff was endlessly grateful for Richter’s charity in sharing his ‘precious treasure.’ She didn’t know any of their names, and doubted they knew hers. Richter never used her real name.
“Master, I-I’m cumming!” Giladi cried, shuddering as an orgasm wracked her body.
“Yes, yes, my treasure! Cum because of my fat cock!” Richter ordered. Giladi hated appeasing the pig man. Hated everything about him. His peculiar fetishes, behaviors around the palace, his sorcerer-servant Grey, his disgusting eating habits, the fact she had to dote on him and be a perfect girl or he’d string her up like meat. She would take great satisfaction in finally killing him.
Giladi *would* kill him. That was the whole reason she was there, after all.
A pair of sugar-coated apples fell to the floor next. Richter loved to fuck her on the kitchen table as much as he loved eating on it. One time he even had her lie down naked, then have the servants put food on her. That was her third night, and she could remember how her face burned in humiliation as this disgusting bastard used her as an object. As days turned to weeks, weeks to months, she was used to it. Giladi suspected that any other sex-objects he bought from Dvini had broken after the first couple weeks of dehumanizing acts. Grey once told her that she was the only one to ever show outright defiance.
She squeaked in surprise as Richter took one of her legs and lifted it up onto his shoulder, so that it looked like she was doing the splits. It was uncomfortable, but she was flexible because of her race, and Richter liked moving her around. Giladi grunted as he continued thrusting away in her ass, pushing more of the cook’s cum out and having it run down her thigh.
“So flexible! You truly are my greatest treasure,” moaned Richter. He was covered in sweat, and both of Giladi’s legs were slick with it. Always his sweat, never hers. She used to be disgusted by it.
“I-I love b-being yours!” Giladi cried extra loud so others outside would hear. Richter liked that too, having others listen in to them. She looked up at him with a dark purple blush and mouth open, exaggerating her grunts with his thrusts. Gods, she hated his fat fucking pig face.
“You are the greatest thing ever sold to me by that scoundrel bastard!” Richter roared, slapping her across the face. Among the Governor’s fetishes, ranting about Dvini and hitting her at the same time was high on the list. She once had bruises up and down her arms and chest during one of his episodes. Even though she could take the pain, and Ash Elves recovered quickly, she certainly didn’t want to repeat that. Tears formed in her eyes as he slapped her again.
“Yes, yes, yes,” breathed Giladi as the table continued to rock. “Th-that scoundrel bastard is n-nothing compared to y-you, Master!” One way to avoid getting beat up was to join him in. Richter loved that shit, and he grinned down at her as she spoke, meaty fingers squishing her cheeks together.
“Damn right,” then he spat on her face. Giladi left it there, one hand going to her tit, the other reaching between her legs. She didn’t want to, but it was always better to appease Richter than fight back. It wasn’t that the fight was drained from her, as it had with the other sex slaves. Giladi was an Ash Elf and blessed with a different outlook than humans. She was biding her time. Richter would die. As she shoved a couple fingers in her pussy, Giladi thought back to four and a half months ago, when she first arrived.
*“Now. For you,” hummed Dvini. The Licani towered over Shire and Giladi, though she might have been a foot shorter than him. Shire was a Dwarf by comparison, and the older man was shuffling nervously and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. “Overseer, leave us.”*
*Shire got halfway to a salute before stopping himself. “Aye, not a problem, Boss.” He darted out of the room, leaving Giladi on the floor. She sneered up at the Licani, baring his teeth and trying to look as ferocious as possible.*
*“I’ll outlive anyone you sell me to, and then you! And when you die, I’ll dig up your rotting corpse, drag it to Wrunelend, and reanimate your mangy hide!” Giladi started to get to her feet, spewing profanities. She didn’t know necromancy, but he didn’t know that she didn’t. “Then when you’re falling apart I’ll flay the skin from your bones and use them to feed demons from the Great Dark!” Again, she wasn’t sure how that worked, but Ash Elves had a reputation.*
*Dvini stared down at her and placed a claw on her shoulder as she was halfway up. “You’ll want to sit.” He said in that smooth voice of his. Giladi paused. Her insults didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow or even entice a retort. Bright yellow eyes nailed her in place, his touch so gentle but carrying such weight. She sank back to her knees without thinking. Who was this man?*
*The Licani returned to his desk, sitting in a chair big enough for his race and plucking a quill from an inkwell. How did claws that savage hold something so delicately? Dvini ignored her, writing something down. Giladi felt like a child again, being reprimanded by her father. Her face burned at uncomfortable memories, her temper flaring again.*
*“Listen here, you idiot mutt –”*
*“You’re property now,” Dvini cut her off, still writing. “Personal property. I could throw you in the dungeons, sell you to the first noble interested in having an Ash Elf. There are plenty who would pay a small fortune for you. You could be shipped across the world, forgotten, and then your long life will be your downside as everyone around you dies, and the only ones remembering who you are will be those recluses in your homeland,” He finished writing, put the quill back, and folded his claws. Dvini leveled his gaze at her. “Shut up and listen.”*
*Giladi’s mouth was still open, ready to continue her threat, but it was lost somewhere. Now, she gawked at him like an idiot. This man was a slaver! A sex slaver! How did he have so much poise and authority? His words sank into her bones like rocks abandoned in a pond. For once, Giladi did shut up and listen. She nodded.*
*“I’m going to sell you to the Governor of Bayreach on a temporary loan,” said the Lord of Chains. “And then you’re going to kill him.”*
Richter flipped her over as she came again. She was on her back now, and her alabaster hair had fallen into a tub of jam that somehow wasn’t knocked off. Giladi hated this position most of all. She had to feign enjoyment and did so masterfully as the Governor lifted both her legs up and continued fucking her. She pinched a black nipple, buried a third finger inside of herself, moaned like she imagined a whore would and even stuck her tongue out, which Richter spat on. She swallowed it and suppressed a shudder.
Gods, he was fat. If Giladi was put shoulder to shoulder with another woman, Richter still would have been wider. And he stunk too. His man breasts jumped more than hers did when he thrust, and his stomach hung on hers. Sometimes it felt like she was being sucked in, and he’d eat her too. Bastard probably could. The flab of his arms swung back and forth, desperate breaths escaping his mouth like convicts promised freedom.
It was amazing he could even stand up. Sometimes she thought his doughy little legs would just snap under all that bulk. He was the opposite of Giladi, whose form was tight and compact, her abs visible, legs defined, arms toned. Part of it was her upbringing, part of it was genetics. Ash Elves could be fat too. When she was younger, she wished she was a bit bigger so that her tits were more impressive. Richter grabbed them, pinching and squeezing the nipples. She groaned in pleasure, pain, annoyance. Her ankles were on his shoulder. Richter loomed over her, fat form a shadow.
“Suck me, my treasure,” ordered the Governor. This was the one thing she couldn’t get behind but denying him was inviting a very uncomfortable night. His fat man breasts were inches from his face. She suppressed another shudder before clamping down on one of them, tongue flicking over his nipple as she sucked on it. The vile taste of his sweat filled her mouth, but she powered through it, tongue dancing around. She lightly bit it, which caused him to coo in pleasure. “Yes! Yes!” His thrusts got faster. Her ass stretched. The table nearly broke, and Giladi remembered more.
*“I’m not an assassin!” Giladi continued. “Not all Ash Elves are assassins! We have bakers and chefs you know. You think your local cake maker is capable of sticking a dagger in someone’s neck?” She spluttered her protests, but Dvini’s look didn’t change.*
*“You’re right, not all Ash Elves are assassins. I’m sure you have florists as well but give anyone a knife and have them kill someone else, and they become an assassin. It’s a matter of perspective, not trade.” Dvini shrugged, as if they were having a casual conversation about politics and not murder!*
*“Why do you even want this Governor guy dead? What did he ever do to you?” Giladi asked. Her mind raced. She’d never killed anyone before, only ever entertained the thought. Her father once told her that anyone could do it. Lives were like nightbugs, he said, easily squashed. But he was a Dark Lord of Wrunelend, of course he thought like that!*
*“Nothing personal. He’s simply in my way.” Dvini said. In the way. That was the same excuse he gave to that Venter woman.*
*“That’s a terrible reason for murder,” cried Giladi.*
*“Would you rather have me put myself on some moral pedestal, declaring my causes as righteous and just? We’re talking about murder here. There’s nothing righteous and just about it. I need the Governor dead, and you’re going to do it.” Dvini said. Giladi tried to wrap her head around that logic. Dvini reminded her so much of her father. Maybe that’s why she was listening to him, why she felt like a child. However, she couldn’t figure out why a Licani in a southern shithole city had the same attitude toward justice and murder as an Ash Elf Dark Lord.*
*“Who* are *you?” Giladi asked aloud. Dvini smiled at her, but his eyes stayed the same.*
*“Just a man with ambition. Let’s talk about how you’re going to do it.”*
“Yes, yes, I’m going to cum, my treasure,” moaned Richter. Giladi had switched to his other nipple now, sucking on it. Her arms wrapped around his chest, pulling his fat blob body into hers. She was so small underneath him. Her legs stuck out behind him, bouncing as he neared completion.
“Inside me Master, please!” She moaned into him, causing him to shiver. Giladi never thought she’d be thankful for someone cumming in her ass. She certainly wasn’t when the cooks took their turns on her. With a grunt, Richter buried his cock in her one last time before busting his load. Her guts filled with heat, and she felt a pressure like she had to go to the latrine because of it. He lied on top of her, wheezing like a dying animal as his cock pulsed and he emptied his nuts into her. Giladi, covered in his sweat and the taste of it in her mouth, was beyond thankful it was over.
Richter stood, practically peeling himself off of her. When he stepped back, his cock had shriveled back up into nothing. The man was the definition of growing not showing. Giladi relaxed on the table, cum dripping out of her ass. Even though she was in shape, being fucked by the fatty was just so exhausting.
“Servants, to me! There is a mess that needs cleaning!” Richter bellowed, and his little legion of servants stormed the dining area.
“Th-thank you for the gift of your cum, Master. I’m such a lucky Ash Elf slut,” said Giladi, sitting with her ass on the table. She grabbed a leg and lifted it up so that everyone in the room could see his spunk leaking out of her asshole. Giladi was beyond shame at this point. Everyone in the palace had seen her naked and twisted into every position imaginable. She caught the longing gazes of a couple of male servants, staring at her like starving duskhounds.
“Clean up my treasure. I must retire to my room,” Richter ordered a couple of the servants. Men. They seemed eager to comply, gently prodding Giladi up and guiding her away. One of them picked up her red leather whore suit that had been discarded on the floor. She tried to keep her head high but wobbled a bit as they left the kitchen. As soon as Richter was out of sight, she frowned and ground her teeth.
*“A fern leaf?” Giladi blinked. “Why?”*
*“Where I’m from in the west, a fern leaf is a symbol of death. Those who receive them are either marked for an assassination or granted an omen of their untimely demise.” Dvini said. The west? Giladi knew that there was a second part to the world, somewhere beyond the ocean, but the scrolls in Wrunelend didn’t go into much detail. Those from the west were godless savages, abandoning magic for machinery.*
*“Everyone dies eventually though.” Giladi noted.*
*“It’s an old superstition. What’s most important is that the Governor, nor will any of his servants or allies, understand the meaning,” said Dvini. “It will be mailed in an unmarked package. Once you receive it, kill the Governor.”*
*“How? How am I going to supposedly kill one of the most powerful men in this gods-forsaken city?” Giladi asked, her voice raising an octave in panic.*
*“However you want.” He said simply.*
*“What if I get caught?”*
*“By that time it won’t matter.”*
*“How do you know I won’t tell the Governor the whole plot? What’s stopping me from turning you in?” She asked. Even though Dvini didn’t seem like a man she wanted to cross, if telling this Governor person the truth would get her out of here, then she’d do it without hesitation. The way Dvini smiled at her question made her feel like a fool for asking.*
*“Because you’ll hate him by the end, and you’ll be glad when that fern leaf comes.”*
Giladi hated that Dvini was right, hated the fact that she wished every third day when the mail came, that one of the servants would turn to her with an unmarked package and question why there was a leaf inside. Giladi hated the Governor more than the Lord of Chains. The Licani was a wicked man, that was no doubt, but at least he wasn’t fucking her and humiliating her. If anything, the simplicity with which he approached the assassination seemed to be something to respect.
She gagged on the servant’s cock. Whenever Richter told them to ‘clean her up,’ there was an unspoken agreement that they could fuck her once before they did. She was on her back, head drooping over the side of the bed. One of the men gripped her tits too tightly while ramming his cock down her throat, while the other held her thighs and was humping away at her pussy.
Giladi hated these men too. Drool poured out of her mouth and a snot bubble popped from her nose. The servant pulled his cock out, letting her cough and gasp for air. Small moans escaped her as the one between her legs sped up. A spit covered dick slapped her across the face, smearing on her cheek.
“I’m not done, bitch,” growled the servant.
“Y-yes, sir.” Giladi said, willingly opening her mouth to be used again. These were servants, who had no power over themselves or their lives. Abusing and fucking Giladi when Richter allowed them to was the only way they could exercise some sort of authority. Because of how close she was with the Governor, she was both above and beneath them.
If she could kill them too, she would. For someone who never entertained the thought of killing, Giladi stewed on the idea most days now. If she could, she’d burn the whole palace to the ground with everyone inside. Gods, if only she had a chance to. She came again unfortunately, tensing up. It was getting hard to breathe with the servant in her throat, but luckily these men barely got the chance to masturbate, let alone fuck anyone.
“Hrk, glrk, hkh,” gagged Giladi as the servant came. She swallowed it without hesitation or complaint, and even gave them a pathetic little moan as the one between her legs came inside her. The three were frozen there a moment, as if time itself had stopped, Giladi’s stomach heaving with breaths, the two servants letting their cocks drain. They pulled out and she coughed. There was so much cum leaking out of her two holes.
“Alright, lets get you cleaned up,” one of them said, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her to her feet. She felt drained. “It’s the third day too. Mail day.” The words made her ears perk. Would today be the day? They turned her toward the washroom, and Giladi wished to the patron god of the Ash Elves that there would an unmarked package waiting.
*“What about afterwards? Even considering I kill him.” Giladi questioned. When she was first told by that ugly Dwarf that she was coming here, and then was stuck in that cage by that old man, she thought that she’d be tossed up in front of a crowd and auctioned off. That was what human slavers did.*
*“After?” Dvini stood, strolling over to the window and opening it. A cool sea breeze came in, chilling the nervous beads of sweat that had formed on her brow. She stared at him, tall and imposing, dressed in fine clothes that didn’t belong on a savage wolfman, claws tucked behind his back like a contemplative scholar. Giladi desperately wanted to know who this man was before coming to Bayreach, but a small part of her wiggled in worry at discovering the truth. “Afterwards I’ll control the city and the jungle and be the most powerful man in the south. Then I’ll expand my business, expand the shipping lanes and trade. Slaves will flow like water, gold like rain. I’m sure I’ll be called a monster, a tyrant, something equivalent to your Dark Lords. Then, I’ll look at the northern kingdoms, and that of Yulin,”*
*Dvini za Krotka turned to her, a terrible gleam in his eye that made her shrink away. He seemed so much larger than before. Through the window, far off in the distance, a bell chimed to signal a large ship coming in to port.*
*“It will start with a fern leaf and you killing the Governor of Bayreach. You’re going to be a very important woman in the annals of history.” He said, and Giladi didn’t want that at all. She just wanted to escape Wrunelend, her father, the Dark Lords and the bickering of her people, their callousness and xenophobia, the terrible apathy that gripped her country. She never wanted anything like this, to be a sex slave, an assassin, someone important enough to be written about by anyone.*
*Giladi Sirkova, Heir to Her House, felt wrapped up in a scheme she couldn’t escape. This man, this Licani, smiled at her like nothing was wrong and she found herself nodding because she had no choice.*
*This man and his ambition would be the downfall of many. Slaves like water. Gold like rain. Blood like a tempest. She’d read stories of people like this on old scrolls locked away in old libraries by the Dark Lords. Terror formed in her chest like a knotted ball of snakes.*
*He was just as the Ruination. He was the Ruination-Made-Man.*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ceq2ub/lord_of_chains_chp_7_the_fern_leaf_fantasy_oc_mf