The Drow's Mistress

Chapter 4 The Real Punishment

Ysilnod clambered to his feet immediately and started pulling his clothes off with trembling fingers, revealing the full expanse of his dark skin. His training since childhood had taught him that the slightest delay could double his punishment.

The stake was a stone column that spanned the length of his two arms. Ysilnod walked up to the stake and turned around. Two servants appeared silently and bound his arms around the stake tightly. Dagger-sharp pain streaked down his shoulder and arm as they tightened the ropes. However, Ysilnod knew that this was merely the start.

Minolene did not lay her hands on him immediately. She liked to play the waiting game. A mediocre interrogator relished their victim’s physical pain. Only the true master knew the exquisite joy that psychological torture could bring. The cleric tapped the handle of her whip against her palm lightly as she admired Ysilnod’s lovely face. Her appreciative gaze traveled down his strong, lean body, then up again as she stared squarely into the male drow’s eyes. The flames of his spirit burned stubbornly in them. Ysilnod was one of her favorites. He did not squeal crassly when hit and instead met his punishment squarely with quiet restraint. She derived immense pleasure from each soft gasp and grunt that she drew from his lips.

Besides being trained in the arts of combat, every male drow was also schooled in the ways of pleasuring his mistress. They were their mistress’s loyal servants in every way, both in and out of bed. That was their duty and the way to survive. All female drow nobility, especially high priestesses, could claim the position of the matron. Winning their favor would gain one special privilege. The favored male drow might even be appointed the patron of the house, the highest status a male drow could aspire to in the drow society. However, one would have to climb over the corpses of their comrades, trampling broken bones and bloodied bodies, as they made their way up.

Ysilnod served Minolene and nobody else. His duty, which brought him nothing but pain and torment, was ironically coveted by many male drow of lower standing. If given the choice, he would happily give it up. Se/x did not interest Minolene. Her pleasure came from tormenting her male servant. In place of caresses were brutal whippings, and kisses with brandings. Minolene found joy in pain and enjoyed assigning impossible missions so that she might get the chance to mete out punishment when they could not be completed.

Ysilnod was blessed with exceptional beauty and a strong and pleasing body. He was rarely hit in the face. That was the greatest favor Minolene saw fit to bestow upon her favorite.

“Summon the fourth squad.” Minolene appeared to have decided what she wished to do with Ysilnod.

A flash of pleasure flickered across her eyes when she caught the slight tremor coursing through Ysilnod’s naked body. This particular servant of hers was stubborn and possessed a pride that was as unyielding as obsidian. Breaking a drow like him brought her unimaginable pleasure. She could imagine no greater torture than to have one’s closest comrades, male drow he ate, trained, and worked alongside, witness his humiliation.

‘No! I beg you, no!’

The blank look on Ysilnod’s face did not fool Minolene. As a high priestess, she could read one’s thoughts. She had heard the silent pleas in Ysilnod’s mind. They put a smile on her face.

“Get me a few more slaves.” The high priestess issued an order that was crueler than her previous.

Nothing incited more joy in a drow than the suffering of another of their dark-elven clansmen. The darkness and their blind veneration of Loylth had corrupted their souls. In the place of all that was good stood cunning, cruelty and unquenchable ambition. Nothing could be more thrilling than watching a favored servant suffer a beating.

The drow soldiers and goblin slaves dared not utter a single sound as they gathered around. However, they had no need for words. The mockery and contempt in their eyes said everything. Ysilnod’s naked form lay bare before their eyes. Shame and anguish threatened to swallow the drow whole. This was worse than anything that he had suffered. His red eyes turned wet.

“Watch! This is the fate of the inept and the punishment for incompetency!” Minolene’s voice echoed in the circular hall as she stood in the distance and sent her whip flicking across the court. Her greater serpent whip cracked loudly as it slithered through the air.

The lashes did not hurt much. Ysilnod knew compassion had no part to play in that. Minolene simply wished to drag out the ordeal. She was an exemplary interrogator. The tip of her whip landed on the most sensitive parts of his body, hitting his neck, nippl/es, his flank, and his midriff with surgical precision. With each serpentine bite, more venom entered his tender flesh until it was nothing more than a cluster of nerves that burned with excruciating pain.

Ysilnod locked his jaw tightly. His tense body shone with a sheen of perspiration. Drops of sweat landed on the polished marble tiles and gradually formed a small pool. The buzzing pain from his injured arm paled in comparison with stinging agony inflicted by the lashing. The drow tugged at his bound wrists and jerked his arm hard in a desperate attempt to drown the pain he was feeling with a self-inflicted variety.

No skin on his body was left untouched as the lashes landed. Minolene’s eyes shone with hunger as she lost herself to a rising wave of pleasure within her. Her cheeks were aglow with life and her lips a startling red, as if she had painted them with fresh blood. Yet her hands remained steady and her mind sharp like a steel trap as she feasted on every detail before her eyes. The audience’s eyes followed the supple rise and fall of Minolene’s whip as it cracked, hit Ysilnod’s inner thigh, and left three deep lashes marring the drow’s skin.

Ysilnod’s breathing stuttered as he jerked back. Blood loss had turned his fists pale. His lips trembled uncontrollably. As they parted, a soft grunt slipped out. The drow could hardly stand. Sweat slid down his thighs as the member between his legs started to throb. Its growing hardness was not brought on by desire but intense fear and pain.