The Minds of Drow

It was the beginning of the cycle, as the great blooms of algae from the circling waters of the city began to glow by their own timing, their glow less a matter of light as the surface dwellers understood, and a matter of radiance in those spectrums that only those blessed to see in the depths of the world really knew. Yellows, violets and deep reds similar to spilled blood mingled with blues and greens, signaling the beginning of another day, another time when plots and schemes and civility replaced open knives in the back and overt violence. Too many witnesses around.


Outside of the Tor'rret compound, the light bounced and struck the crystal spires, a veritable forest of carefully placed and shaped crystal, refracting and reflecting among themselves, a maze of brilliance and confusion, where one must know the way as one would know their most prized possession to find their way through to the compound proper. Otherwise, as one could attest, it make wandering through the Crystal Grove a matter of luck, trying to find oneself through the brilliant sheen.

There, amid crystals meant to amplify and enhance the house members psionic potential, there were several groups, all of them vying against each other, all working to mutual advantage, for such were the ways of the Drow. Bound by blood and power, and more the latter then the former for with it came psychic conditioning to be loyal to the house and Matron Mother.

Still, there were other, small relationships inside of the house, power blocs not easily forgotten nor ignored. Chief amongst them, and unusual in Drow society as a whole, belonged to the Eldest Daughter, reclining in her room with the members of her harem.... so far almost all members of her own family. Which really, made some whisper.... how strong, how confident could she be if she had to poach family members?


Elsewhere, one of her few relations around her own age reclines, alone for the moment, but at the same time, shoring up her mental defenses from her sisters mental thrall.

While she had slumbered in the luxury of her sister's chambers, Fhada'chas was used to taking her est in the tunnels of the Underdark when she went on one of her many hunting expeditions. That required keeping one's senses sharp even when asleep so as not to become an easy meal for a wandering predator. So when her sister Larala sat up and looked her way, Fhada'chas sensed it and opened her pale blue eyes. She let out a deep sigh, her large bust rising and falling. As she rolled over to face her sister, the futanari drow realized her cock was already aroused. A wry smile appeared on her face.

"Hello, sister. It looks like you're not the only one up early."

"Mmh..." Hearing his eldest sister's voice was enough to stir Tallim from his well-earned slumber, even if she clearly wasn't speaking to him. Thin, red eyes opened to survey the room as they adjusted to the light, and when a cursory glance revealed no threats, they rested solely on Larala's splendid form. It looked like she was after Fhada'chas this morning, which suited the young male just fine. Ignoring his own hardness for now, Tallim laid his head back down to watch his sisters play until he was needed or requested.

"It seems not..." Larala agreed with a faint and lascivious smile as her eyes rested on the erect flesh jutting from between her sister's legs. Inasmuch as a Drow was capable of doing so Larala held something of a soft spot for Fhada'Chas' warped body. Worthy of some respect as partially female yet also endowed well enough to put many males to shame she was something of a perfect lover, and a valuable ally as well given her other skills with bow and blade. She might have been family to be sure, but could Larala really be blamed for taking such a prize as her own?

The elder sister could feel her own heat growing as she went to her knees, straddling Fhada'Chas' hips and shivering slightly as that thick member brushed against her womanhood. She took it in two hands, gliding her palms delicately over the impressive shaft with the ease of long familiarity, one hand at the base, the other teasing the head as she bent it upwards slightly and delicately pushed her hips down, grinding her own clit against the underside of it with a grin. "Hhmmmh~..."

Fhada'chas groaned has her sister's cunt lowered down onto her thick cock. It seemed the previous night's fucking did nothing to changing the tightness of Larala's snatch. Letting her handing roam all over her sister's nude body, Fhada'chas reached out with her mind to allow herself to feel Larala's pleasure as well as her own. Having empathy made sex so much better, she could what it was like to be on both ends of her cock.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fhada'chas noticed Tallim had whoken. His own cock was aroused as she watched the sisters have their morning fuck. Fhada'chas smiled wickedly a her brother.

"Tell me, little one... are you wishing that you were the one being ridden by our eldest sister? Or are you wishing that you the one being split by my shaft?"

The look in his futa sister's eyes as she turned to him was enough to earn an eager twitch from the lowly male's cock. Tallim didn't quite measure up to her endowment, but then again, very few did, and the sight of that superior rod being doused in their elder sibling's lust had him wetting his lips subconsciously. Her question reached his pointed ears and he crawled a little closer to gain a better view of where Fada'chas and Larala met. "Well, if it pleases Big Sisters... I would wish to serve you both at once."

His eyes slowly moved over to a toy that had rolled to the corner of the bed sometime before they all fell asleep the night before; an insertable tapered to gradually stretch his ring and prepare him for a girth just short of that which his elder sister possessed. It was something Tallim had become well-acquainted with since he'd gained the psionic gift to render inanimate items and surfaces almost bereft of friction. The mere thought of using it again had the young male biting his lip with anticipation.

Zade

The door opened quietly and Zade reentered. The ebony skinned youth had slipped out of his mistress's bed a few minutes before she woke. He'd learned to do this early in his tenure as Larala's slave. He'd slipped down to the kitchen's to fetch his beloved mistress and the rest of them a bottle of stragleberry wine, a bowl full of fruits and sweet mushrooms, a pot of blue honey from giant ants, and a tureen of yogurt made from the milk of deep rothe.

He'd gone down to the kitchen's nude—save for a silver collar and some enchanted jewelry--rather than risk waking his mistress by finding his clothing. His manhood lay languidly swolen against his thigh—falling halfway to his knee in this state. He was small, and his muscles had the density of a warrior but extra effort had been put into sculpting them to perfection.

Finding his mistress at play once again, Zade's ebony cheeks showed more than a little purple. He sank elegantly to his knees a way from the bed, set the tray aside, and pressed his palms into the floor, his forehead into his palms. Thick, straight snow white hair poured off of the hardness that was his bare back too pool on the stone at either side of his head, thick and long.

Confused thoughts churned and tumbled in the young drow's mind. His mistress was happy, her channel spread wide by her sister, with her odd anatomy. She could hear her mistress's sounds of growing pleasure, and they set off sparks of happiness in his heart and soul.

On the other hand, it was not he inside of her, and that made his throat tighten in jealousy. It wasn't that he was not the only man or maid in her harem that bothered him—at least, not primarily. A girl so great and powerful as his mistress should have her pick of lovers and slaves, it made him proud to be hers.

He just wished he stood a bit higher in her esteem...

She rested, in her own room, a distance from her sisters. This was entirely on her own choice, as she may have enjoyed some aspects of what they got up to, but in many others, she wondered, just how sexually obsessed could you become, how lost in hedonistic desires? Frankly, she at many times wondered if the sole reason Larala did anything was because she couldn't keep things out of her cunt.

Yet, as she gathered herself, and made herself ready, she thought on the deals she had made, and the projects she had underway. Business was business after all, and she could read the currents of the political climate, and the general... oddities of her house, at least compared to the wider city. Yet, as the youngest of the three sisters, she was not deemed important as compared to the others.

A smirk crossed her face, even as she looked over the papers. Frankly, she would not have it any other way. Let the assassins and lackeys flock to them, and leave her alone. Elder sisters, properly appeased, make excellent smokescreens and distractions for the discreet younger siblings after all.

Larala caught the drift of Tallim's gaze and smiled, leaning forwards a little to better show off where Fhada'Chas cock slowly slid in and out of her. "You may tend to us with your tongue, and prepare yourself to take my dear sister after I have finished with her." The whisper of her chamber door opening caught her ears and a tilt of her head brought her other servant's arrival into the corner of her vision, prompting a smirk. "And darling Zade may partake of me as well," Larala purred, having caught the envy in the young male's gaze.

An excellent way to start the day.

Zade

The door opened quietly and Zandya reentered. The ebony skinned maiden slipped out of her mistress's bed a few minutes before Larala Toret awoke. She had learned to do this early in her tenure as Larala's slave. Zandya had slipped down to the kitchen's to fetch her beloved mistress and the rest of them a bottle of stragleberry wine, a bowl full of fruits and sweet mushrooms, a pot of blue honey from giant ants, and a tureen of yogurt made from the milk of deep rothe.

She had gone down to the kitchens nude—save for a silver collar and some enchanted jewelry--rather than risk waking her mistress by finding her clothing. The goblin slaves watched and leered lustily out of the corners of their eyes. They hadn't dared do anything more, though. Not even with Zandya collared. Even nude, unarmed, and happily kneeling to the same mistress as they, she was still Zandya Lo'quette.

Slaves whispered things their betters were forbidden to even think. Not three months gone, House Lo'quet had been a rising star in the covert wars of the city. House Toret took the upstarts down in a single night, siezing the other houses assets for their own. Larla found Zandya standing in the middle of a pile of goblin bodies, some slashed by blade or pierced by dart, others still convulsing in the throes of poison.

With a single stroke of enlightened will, Zandya was transformed from defiant foe to loving tool, but the other slaves remembered. Even as a loving tool, Zandya took pride in this.

Finding her mistress at play with her boys sent hot flashes through Zandya's body. Before, when she'd been mistress of her own body and soup, Zandya had frequently teased the boys who served her house with the knowledge that no man had ever touched her. Little hints and whispers that she might surender that treasure to them sent them happily to do her bidding, fetching poison reagents, showering her with rich gifts, slaying others of their own number, or foes. It had been an amusing passtime.

Now, nipples tingling and petals churning, Zandya set aside the breakfast. The nude beauty sank elegantly to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor. In her mind's eye, she could still see her mistress locked in rapturous embrace with her sister/brother.

Who will you award this pride too, mistress of my heart and soul? One of your obedient siblings? Will you save me as a bribe to ensnare a rival, or capture an enemy? Or will you take me yourself, mistress? How would you do it? A power of shape changing? A crystalline rod, resonant with psionic power, that penetrates us both at once?

Shivers and goosebumps shot along the girl's body.

"Thank you, Larala..." Tallim's voice dripped with sincerity and devotion as he grabbed his favorite toy and crawled toward the coupled beauties, ending up prone on his stomach between Fhada'Chas' legs. The youngest of them took a moment to watch that impressive pole slide in and out of a sheath seemingly made just for it and reached back to poise a slightly smaller object at his own waiting entrance. His eyes glowed silver, as they would for the next thirty seconds, and the air around him briefly exploded with color. Those in the room could smell a hint of some slippery substance, be it meat drippings, lantern oil, or a woman's arousal.

His power expended, Tallim gave that poor substitute for his sister's cock a push that buried its tip into his upturned ass. He winced slightly at the discomfort, though his hardness grinding into the sheets told a different story. Remembering what he was there to do, the young drow extended his tongue and dragged it up the seam of Fhada'Chas' lightly bouncing sac, moaning softly as he could taste how much of Larala had already dripped down that far. "Mmmn..."