The Youth of the Dark Lord
by Jennifer Kohl
Maida’s escape stopped, abruptly, just before she reached the path that marked the generally agreed-upon edge of the village. “No,” she whimpered, quietly, as the familiar feeling came to her: her own muscles disobeying her will, the fear, the shame, the excitement... the desire. “No!” she whimpered again, but her demonic tormentor was merciless.
She found herself walking toward the village green. At this hour of the morning, it was full of people waiting to use the well, chatting, making little exchanges of favors or objects needed for the day’s work. There was some snickering from some of the men as they saw Maida approach, and she knew that the events of the previous day had begun spreading through the rumor mill.
Has it only been a day? she thought. Just two or three since the demon claimed me, and already I’m so controlled I can’t even flee? What will happen in five days? Ten? A year? She shuddered, not sure if she feared finding out or craved it. She suspected it was both.
She stopped in the middle of the green, in sight of almost the entire village, and slowly began to sway. What is he making me do? she thought, but she would soon find out—as would the rest of the village.
Slowly, as if dancing to some unseen, unheard tune, she swayed her hips and turned in a slow circle, arms loosely out. She tried to fight, but she couldn’t; she had no choice but to dance.
And then, once every eye was on her and a murmur of confusion spreading through the crowd, she started to unlace her tunic, still swaying enticingly. No, she thought. No no no no. Not in front of everyone. Please, Karnath, no!
But his will was implacable and irresistible. She was rapidly learning that he could and would take anything he wanted from her. I’m lost, she thought, and the tears welling up inside her refused to fall, even while her tunic did. I really am his... truly beyond salvation. Helpless and alone and tiny...
Even as she sank into despair, she continued to dance, and the cheers and jeers of the villagers only fueled her humiliation—and in turn, her arousal. This is what I deserve. Why is that so exciting? I guess it doesn’t matter why... it does, and that’s why I deserve it. I’m so perverse, so twisted, no wonder he came for me...
Her skirt pooled around her feet and she stepped out of it, still swaying invitingly, in nothing but a shift. That, too, soon fell, and as she felt the eyes of the entire town—some judgmental, some lustful, many both—on her, something dark inside of Maida leaped in delight. “Yes!” she cried out, and realized too late that she was saying it out loud. “Look at me! Hate me! Want me! Dirty me and use me!”
Suddenly the crowd parted, and the last—well, second-to-last, after her father—person she wanted to see pushed through to the front. “Maida?” asked Tyryn. “What are you doing?”
Maida’s eyes rolled back in her head as pleasure burst through her. She felt herself falling to her knees, then onto her side. Not him, she thought desperately. Please don’t look at me!
And then there was only darkness.
Tyryn sat on the edge of Maida’s bed, thinking. The way she’d looked at him when he revealed himself had been unlike anything he’d ever seen in her eyes: pleading, desperation, shame, and a flare of lust behind it all. It had stabbed straight through him and down to the base of his spine like a bolt of flame, and any doubt, any hesitance about his plan, any lingering sense of morality, had burned away in that moment.
Your fault, he thought, glaring at her unconscious form. You bring this upon yourself, slut. Then he undid the sleep he’d magically imposed on her the moment he realized his face was about to betray how her gaze made him feel.
Maida stirred, moaned softly, and then opened her eyes. “Tyryn?” she asked muzzily. “What..?”
“You had some kind of fit,” he said in what he hoped would sound like a kindly voice. “You collapsed on the green. Some villagers helped me bring you back here.” He patted her blanket-covered hip, and at the same time sent a slight pulse of arousal through her, spreading out from the touch.
Maida closed her eyes again. No... she thought desperately. I’m not depraved, I’m not—I would never..! But was there really a limit? Hadn’t she, just the night before, pledged fealty to a demon? “Please...” she started to say. Help me, Tyryn. Save me from the monster that caught me. The monster inside me...
But she couldn’t. She might already be beyond saving; all she could hope to do was protect him.
“Maida,” Tyryn said seriously. “You could have been very badly hurt. What possessed you to go out and do that?”
Maida winced at the word possessed. “I... I can’t...“
Tyryn sighed. “Can you at least promise me you won’t go out and do it again?”
She struggled to hold back tears. “I don’t... I can’t control it, Tyryn. Can’t control myself! Please, I—”
“Shhh,” he said softly, and patted her hair. But what he thought was, That’s right. You don’t have any control at all. You’re mine! “All will be well,” he continued. “We just have to keep you safe until Master Vilnus returns, and I’m sure he can help you. But, if you can’t promise not to wander... you know what I have to do, right?“
Maida nodded. “You need to bind me to the bed. So I can’t—can’t endanger myself.” Or touch myself, or go out and humiliate myself, or anything else the demon makes me do to myself.
Tyryn nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said again. Then he picked up the coil of rope he’d laid at the foot of the bed, and set to work.
Maida looked at herself under the blanket while Tyryn anchored the rope. Someone had redressed her, thankfully, so she could push the blanket aside and wait to be tied.
But the moment the rope touched her, so did the pleasure. Oh no, she thought. Don’t tell me I enjoy this! What is happening to me!? But she couldn’t help her body’s response as Tyryn tied her wrists together above her head, and then anchored that down so that she couldn’t move her arms. She couldn’t help but whimper in arousal; thankfully, Tyryn didn’t seem to notice, and politely ignored her squirming
Tyryn suppressed a smirk as he spread Maida’s legs and tied her ankles in place. The stupid child thinks I don’t notice her writhing and whimpering, that I can’t see what a slut she’s become. He was, of course, feeding her arousal as he bound her, and it was gratifying to see how far his efforts were paying off. Minute by minute, you become more mine, he thought.
Then he finished tying her and left the room. Maida lay there, staring at the ceiling as the light of the afternoon sun moved slowly across it. She tried not to think about how helpless she was, how trapped, just as surely as when the demon had her in his grip. She tried not to think about how it felt to be bound, how empty it made her feel, how desperate to be filled.
She thought about it anyway.
Maida squirmed in ever-climbing need as she lay, tied down, on her bed. The tug of the ropes on her limbs every time she tried to pull against them was irresistible, unbreakable; she was trapped, and the darkness inside her loved it. It surged and fizzed through her blood with every tug, every reminder of her helplessness. She was caught, imprisoned, controlled—and, she felt with mounting certainty, soon to be fucked.
And the more she struggled, the more that became something to be hoped for, rather than feared.
She shrieked when the door opened. The room was dark by then, and she could barely make out the figure standing in the doorway, but the silhouette was enough: hairy, hunched, clawed, it could be none other than Karnath. As her eyes fell on him, she came, every muscle in her body seeming to tense at once and then release in bliss. Her eyes closed, and she found she couldn’t open them again.
“Do you understand what it is to gaze upon me?” Karnath rumbled, his heavy steps approaching her bed slowly. “The very sight of me is pleasure itself, for one who has fallen as far as you.”
Claws traced over her shift, and Maida whimpered. “Please... please stop tormenting me,” she begged.
“Torment?” asked the demon, and then roughly tore open the ties at the collar of her flimsy undergarment, then ripping it the rest of the way down to the hem, exposing her completely.
Maida jumped at the touch of a single claw against her skin, and tried desperately not to squirm or moan as it traced a slow, meandering path down her breastbone and over her belly. She didn’t succeed.
“You neither sound nor move like someone in torment,” said the demon. “You seem to be taking pleasure in my touch.”
“N-no,” stammered Maida. “I... I’m not!”
“Hmm,” said the demon. Four points touched each of her shoulders as he lightly pressed his claws against her skin. “You take no pleasure in this, none at all?” Slowly he increased the pressure, sinking those points gradually deeper into her skin. “You find nothing pleasurable in being helpless, bound, controlled, used..?“
Maida tried to hold still, to make no sound, but the longer and harder he dug in his claws the harder it became. She didn’t think he was actually breaking the skin, but it still hurt, a pinching sort of pressure that built and built until she couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” she finally shrieked, so loudly that it hurt her throat. Then, more quietly, almost sobbing: “It feels so good, too good... I can’t take it, please, no more, it hurts and it feels so good and I can’t take it...”
“That’s right,” Karnath rumbled. “No more lies.”
With that, he removed his claws, and Maida gasped in relief. Her shoulders still burned, but her treacherous body was flooding with relaxation, pleasure, even contentment, now that the immediate threat of injury was removed.
But her reprieve was brief. Karnath began dragging his claws over all of her exposed flesh, scratching down and across her breasts (narrowly avoiding the areolae around her hard brown little nipples), then outward across her belly from around her navel, down her helpless arms from shoulder to bound wrist, and she writhed. Each scratch felt good at first, but then left behind a slender line of fire in her skin, a burning trail that stung before spreading outward into a dull ache.
And yet the more that ache spread, the more it transformed. Not into pleasure, exactly, but into the good kind of pain, the pain of a slightly too-hot bath after a long day, a pain that came with a kind of satisfaction that lingered after the pain itself faded.
Maida was beyond any vestige of self-control. She squirmed and gasped, squealed and moaned, wriggling endlessly in her bonds, but they held tight as the torture continued—and the longer it continued, the better it felt. She was lost almost completely in sensation, the intensity of it dissolving her mind into a churning stew from which brief hints of coherent thought occasionally surfaced only to almost immediately sink back down.
And then, suddenly, it stopped. Maida lay on the bed, the weight of the demon on her bare thighs, his claws resting against her breasts, four across the top of each breast and one below, while her whole body vibrated slightly.
“Please...” she managed through parched mouth and dizzied brain.
“Please what?” the demon rumbled mockingly, his claws digging slightly harder into her skin.
Maida threw her head back and cried out, her pleading growing to a crescendo. “Please! Take me, use me, fuck me, break me! Please! I’m YOURS!” The last word turned into a howl as Karnath entered her, and she strained desperately against the ropes, trying to get him in deeper, trying to meet his thrusts while she incoherently babbled words of desperate encouragement and eager need.
She could feel her body winding tighter with every thrust, tension pulling in her limbs, and energy just like the tension in the ropes that held her, pulling more and more, her whole body pulling toward its center while the demon cock glided smoothly between her slick walls, and then—!
She shrieked in orgasm at the first spurt inside her, then again at the second, and one final time at the third, pleasure on pleasure on pleasure, a total release that left her breathless and boneless, a puddle on the bed, barely conscious in her exhausted bliss.
Tyryn cupped Maida’s breast possessively in one gloved hand. Mine, he thought. Broken, or breaking. She won’t try to escape again. Which meant it was time to advance things.
“Maida,” he rumbled.
“...yes..?” she asked weakly, and yelped when he squeezed tighter.
“From now on, you will refer to me as ‘Master’ or ‘My Lord,’” he said. “So try that again.
“Yes, My Lord,” she said, her tone defeated, and Tyryn grinned wickedly. He had her!
But I still don’t know how far I can push her... I need to test, and make certain she is so completely broken that she will do anything I command. “I have a task for you,” he said. “Involving Tyryn.“
“Tyryn!” Maida gasped. “He—the noise—!”
“Calm yourself, mortal,” “Karnath” snapped. “He heard nothing. My power ensured that your wanton cries were for my ears only. When you begged for me to claim you, to use you, to break you, I and only I heard.”
Maida gulped. “What—what do you want with him?” The claws on her breast pressed again, and she hastily added, “Master?”
Tyryn’s wicked smile widened even farther. “I require a vessel. A human body I can possess and claim as my own.”
“No whom?” Tyryn rumbled threateningly. “I grow impatient with your inability to follow even simple orders properly, slave.“
“No—I mean, please, My Lord! Take my body instead, it is already yours!”
“You would sacrifice yourself to protect him? Even if I tell you that becoming my vessel means having your soul entirely devoured, ceasing utterly to exist in this world or any other?”
“Yes!” said Maida. “Please, Master, like I begged you before, take me and use me!” At least the destruction of my soul would end this... she thought.
For a moment, Tyryn almost pitied her. He hadn’t expected her to want to protect him! No one ever had before. “Why?” he asked.
“He cares about me!” Maida said, “and I care about him. He’s been trying to take care of me, helping me, even though he has no idea about you.” She hesitated. “Master.”
Tyryn laughed bitterly, that brief, uncharacteristic moment of pity washed away by contempt. “Stupid little mortal wench. You think he cares about you? How could anyone care about a creature as depraved, corrupt, and vile as you! A creature so wicked at heart that her lusts called a demon to herself? No even slightly good person could ever care about one such as you. He simply pities you. He acts out of charity, not love.“
No, thought Maida. No, it can’t be true... But she knew. Tyryn had always been coldly polite to her, and only now could she understand why. He must have seen the darkness inside her, and recoiled from it.
“It pleases me to torment a dark soul like yours, to drag it ever deeper into depravity,” Tyryn continued, still in his Karnath voice. “But a good soul? The pleasure there is to corrupt it just enough to be able to touch it, then devour it whole and use the shell that remains to spread ever more darkness in the world. That is why I will never release you—and why I choose Tyryn to be my vessel.
“And you will be the one to prepare him for me.”