Doomtryst | Astarion x Durge

Chapter 1: The Elven Lady

Chapter 1: The Elven Lady

Baldur's Gate, a city so full of life, its cobblestone streets infested with people speaking and bustling about, from the common peasant to the highest ranking noble, there was just about something for everyone to have a piece. A place of opportunity as it always had been, a place where even the lowliest merchant could become something better, something where they could make a life for themselves out of very little with the right ambition. And that was the magic of Baldur's Gate, it was a city of all for all, by all. Yet nestled within its core was an ugly heart, a disease, a cancer which coursed through its veins and infected its stone walls. No matter how many heroes acted as surgeons attempting to remove the tumor, they would always reappear and each time under the guise of a friend rather than a foe to the city.

Those that knew this secret kept it to themselves, the perils and troubles of the Baldurian way of life were trife and therefore it was no surprise for such a cancer to spread amongst even the nobles of the city. And in one such growing tumor of cancer and utter depravity was a noble elven woman from a great house of Baldur's Gate. Currently, she sat in her velvet and golden armchair, feeding herself a bowl of red grapes, with her long black hair unwoven from her usually neatly kept bun. She wore a pale lace nightgown which ran down to her ankles and so finely suited her sensual figure. Her bright green eyes reflected the dawn of the new day, while her lips pursed upon the width of a grape, biting it in half, before consuming the other bit. She then ate it whole, seeds and all. For her sharp teeth had cut into many bones.

Beneath her feet was something delectably soft, like gelatinous mush, and it quivered and shook in a turbulence of pain.

''Mistress...please....please....''

Her living ottoman cried out. The halfing man trembled as the palms of his hands and knees were so bruised from the weight and intensity of her feet being placed upon his naked back. The woman was wearing sandals and under the soles of them were sharp, bitter nails, digging into this flesh as she pressed onto him. His entire body was covered in brutal markings, for she had stepped on him nearly all over. Yet the halfling resisted, he resisted to bend and break. For hours he kept still in such a degrading position.

''Hmm?''

The elven woman looked down at him with an almost tender smile, blood dripping between her toes and onto the white marble floor of her finely distinguished bedroom.

''I-I don't...think I can hold any longer...Mistress...it's been hours...please...''

The man sobbed as his thick arms began to shake and the more it shook, the deeper and harder she pressed her feet down upon him. Yet she proceeded as if it were so casual, as if there was nothing wrong about what she did.

''...hush...hush...do you hear that?''

A smile grew upon her lips as she paused, listening to the sounds of morning birds chirping so lovingly. Her twisted heart hummed to the tune of the winged creatures. She began to quickly ponder about the sounds the birds would make if she took a crossbow and shot arrows at their little feathered selves.

The man grew silent, for a brief moment. His bruised hands fumbled and in response he began to cuss softly, so lowly that she could not hear him. She finally turned to him, lifting up her nightgown so that it would not be stained with his blood.

''Henrich...you know I love all my servants don't you? You know this...yet you embarrassed me in front of everyone last night. In front of my father...during dinner. It wasn't nice of you.''

She pouted, leaning over to brush the blonde hair from his eyes, her long fingers being so delicate, he was almost comforted in a sickly way.

''Y-Yes Mistress...I-I won't make jokes again...about...you...I promise...no more....please have mercy...''