Nivean and the Dvergar
This story is a retelling of a fairy tale. There are also some authoritarian elements in the story.
There will be some non-consensual scenes in the story, although
the main character does eventually acquiesce. This story is fantasy. In the
real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.
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invaluable resource for men like us. Please consider donating to help ensure
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You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.
Author's Notes
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If you like this story, you may like Jack and
the Giant and Sacred Submissives (see below).
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My Stories
Nivean and the
Dvergar
In a faraway land there lived a queen named Amalthea. In her
youth, every knight in the land sought to marry her. Her father decided to hold
a contest and the best knight would gain her hand in marriage. All the knights
of the kingdom came to participate in the contest, each hoping to wed the
princess and share in her crown. But the greatest knights in the land were
beaten by a handsome youth from a distant land who introduced himself as Sir
Lucan of Silverthorn. Unbeknownst to the other
knights he was a lord of the Seelie Courts in the lands of Faerie.
In time the king died, and the princess was crowned queen. Her
husband was content to serve her and never sought to steal her power. She gave
birth to a single child, a son she named Nivean. He
was a fair skinned child with hair of raven black. He had the best features of
his mother and his father. And the kingdom rejoiced upon his birth. Only a few
knights who had tried and failed to win her hand remained displeased, and chief
among them was Damian Darkheart, a recent widower who
had been widely expected to win the contest.
After losing both the contest and the hand of the queen, he had
turned to the study of dark magic and had sworn service to a frightful being of
the deepest realm of shadow, a being known to mages as the Dread King of
Shadow. And it was this patron who had informed him that the queen's consort
was one of the faerie folk. Under his patron's tutelage, he built a trap, a
magic mirror to ensnare his rival and to force him to do his bidding. One night
he surprised Prince Consort Lucan and trapped him in the mirror. To all
appearances, the queen's husband had just disappeared without a trace.
After a year of mourning, the Prince Consort was declared missing.
There were no open mages in the kingdom since Queen Amalthea's grandfather had
executed many mages and driven the magical folk out of the kingdom, so there
were none who could divine the location of the missing prince consort. The
queen refused all suitors until ten years had passed, and young Prince Nivean was eleven years of age.
Damian Darkheart had access to the queen
since he was her second cousin and was counted among her heirs. He began to use
his magic to woo her. He didn't charm her or dominate her (that would have been
noticeable without magic by those who knew her well), but he did use magic to
watch her from afar and to see when she was alone and approachable. He could
listen to her thoughts and say exactly the words that would turn her heart.
Within a year, the two were married. Darkheart
had three sons of his own from his first marriage. These three boys were close
in age to the prince, but older by a few years. Armand was the oldest and he
was six years older than the prince. Bruno was the middle son, and he was four
years older. And the youngest was Caspian, a thoughtful youth who loved books
and learning of all kinds. He was two
years older than the prince.
Each of the boys were like their father in some ways. Armand had a
tactical mind and great ambition. Bruno had his powerful build and his father's
dark good looks and demeanor, although his cruelty lay closer to the surface
than his father's. But it was Caspian who had his father's deep intellect and
ability to keep his thoughts hidden from his face and his body.
On Prince Nivean's thirteenth birthday,
a year after his mother had married Darkheart, the
oldest brother led the prince on a hunting expedition. Armand was nineteen
years old and had already mastered horsemanship and the art of the hunt. He was
under instruction from his father to offer fine wine to the prince when they
were alone. When served in a prepared cup, the wine would make the prince vomit
blood until he died. And Nivean's stepfather, in the
cruelest trick of all, called his slave, Nivean's own
father, from the mirror and compelled him to turn into a magnificent stag and
lead the party on a wild chase so that Armand could complete the dead.
But Lucan the Seelie Lord was free, even if it was just for a
moment. At the right moment in the hunt, he assumed the form of a magnificent
stag with silver horns and the hunters gave chase. Armand was a skilled rider,
and he was able to slow his horse and that of the prince down enough that the
hunting party left them behind. When they had fallen far enough behind that no
one would accidentally turn back and come upon them, Armand put a hand on the
prince's reins and stopped his horse.
"I fear that the hunt has left us behind, my prince," he said. "At
this point we will not catch them, try as we might. We may as well enjoy a
drink while we wait."
He pulled out skin of wine and two cups. One cup was of gold and
the other was of silver. The golden cup had been rubbed with the magical poison
that would bring death. But a moment of confusion struck Armand. He handed the
silver cup to the prince and drank from the gold cup himself.
A sprite hovered invisibly nearby and congratulated himself on his
spell of confusion. He was Timroth, one of Sir Lucan's
flying guards. Despite his six-inch stature, he was deadly with a bow and quick
with spells of trickery and misdirection. He'd waited for years to hear from
his lord, but he hadn't been able to find him. As soon as Lucan had been
released from the mirror however Timroth had been
able to determine who held his lord. And he'd followed Darkheart
to overhear his instructions to his oldest son.
"And now my prince, you will die," Armand sneered. "Before you go,
you should know that I put the poison in your golden cup at the command of my
father. When you are dead, I will be the heir to the throne."
Prince Nivean clutched his cup in fear.
He had never been close to his cousins, but he had no idea that there was a
plot to kill him. And his cousin Damian Darkheart (he
was Amalthea's second cousin and Nivean's third) was
the commander of the guard. Nivean stared at his
cousin Armand and couldn't believe the look of hatred he saw in his eyes. Then
he glanced at the golden cup held in his cousin's hands, and the silver cup in
his own.
Armand coughed. A look of worry crossed his face. He glanced down
at the golden cup that he held in his own two hands, a look of horrific
understanding spreading across his face. And then he vomited blood. He dropped
the cup and fell to the ground.
Prince Nivean watched in horror as his
cousin vomited out his life. In hindsight, it would probably have served him
better to make his way back to the castle in secret so he could find protection
with his mother, but Nivean was only thirteen years
old. The sight of his dying cousin and the knowledge that his mother's husband
wanted him dead and that he had the resources of the castle guard at his
command, struck him with terror. He mounted his horse and rode off, getting as
far away from his Darkheart's men as he could.
The young teen rode through the woods for several hours, crossing
into that part of the forest where many of the magical folk had fled to escape
the persecution perpetrated by his great-grandfather. As he entered the forested
foothills he came upon a large house, nestled near the swampy region known as
the Great Morass. It was on the high ground next to the trail that led into the
mountains. He was tired as was his horse, so he dismounted and looked around.
It was in the latter half of the day and the sun was still shining hot above
them. Nivean knocked at the front door, but no one
answered, and all the windows in the front were shuttered. He led his horse
though the garden gate and back to the well where he used a bucket to draw
water. He poured some into a trough near the well for his horse, then he pulled
another bucket to slake his own thirst, and finally a bucket to pour over his
head to wash away the sweat and dust.
There was a stable in the back of the garden and he led his horse
to it and opened the door. It was well-built and in good repair, but it needed
a thorough cleaning. It had filthy straw on the floor and feces in the stalls. Nivean grabbed a rake and cleaned out one of the stalls and
spread fresh straw. Then he led his horse inside and closed the gate. He took
some hay and placed it in a feedbox and filled another bucket with water from
the well. He took the saddle and harness off the horse and removed the bit from
its mouth. Finally, he found a brush and groomed him.
After he was done, he tried the doors and windows of the house. It
was locked and barred securely against his attempts to get in, so he found a
grassy area in the shade of an ill-pruned hazelnut tree and fell asleep.
************
Damian Darkheart was in a rage. The man
kneeling before him cowered in fear. He'd served his lord for ten years and he
knew his dark temper.
"And somehow the prince tricked my oldest son into drinking the
poison meant for him and my heir died instead. He's the only person standing
between me and the title of heir to the throne and he escaped. You're telling
me that a scrawny slip of a boy managed to evade my best hunters," he said.
"Explain to me how this is possible, and you will convince me that you should
live. Otherwise, I will rip out your heart and consign your soul to the deepest
shadow."
The chief huntsman cleared his throat and collected his thoughts.
Then he said, "My Lord, I cannot explain how your son came to drink from the
poisoned chalice, but I can attest that we followed the prince's tracks through
the woods until they entered a thicket of thorns. There was no sign of his
passage, and there was no sign that he had gone around it. I would submit to
you that magic must have been involved. The thicket seemed to stretch for miles
in each direction."
The huntsman expected his master to dismiss his explanation, but
instead his face turned dark and pensive. "For now, we will put it out that the
prince and my son were both killed in the forest by wild beasts. I will use
magic to change Armand's corpse to match the story, and we will say that the
prince's body could not be found. You are dismissed."
Once he was alone, Lord Damian Darkheart
strode over to his magic mirror and called forth the image of his slave. "Tell
me slave of the mirror, did you see what happened with my son?" he asked.
"No master," the image of Sir Lucan of Silverthorn
answered. "I was leading the hunting party away from the prince as you
commanded."
Darkheart touched the mirror and pain shot
through the image of Sir Lucan. He narrowed his eyes and said, "And did you
compel my son to drink from the wrong cup?"
"No master!" the image screamed.
"And do you know who did?" he demanded with a snarl.
"No master!" the image screamed again.
Darkheart moved away from the mirror and threw
himself into a chair. He had enemies, and one of them must have taken this
opportunity to ruin his plans. He brooded in silence and made dark plans. He
had two more sons, and he knew that he would eventually find the prince or his
body. None of his attempts so far had been able to scry his location, but he
would find a way.
Sir Lucan was trapped in the mirror and there was little he could
do. The master of the mirror could force him to perform vile acts, and often he
did. But he took solace in the fact that words had meaning. He didn't know
who had used a confusion charm to dupe the prince, but he had his
suspicions and those suspicions brought him hope. He silently prayed to the
Queen of Air and Fire that his vassal had sense not come tell him where the
prince was. He couldn't be compelled to tell that which he didn't know.
************
Timroth the sprite sat invisible on a tree
branch watching the dvergar returning to their house after a long day working
in the mine. He was uneasy leaving the boy in their hands, but he knew that
their house was warded against magical scrying, and the warlock would be
confounded in his attempt to discern the boy's location. He wouldn't be able to
get inside unless they left a window or door unsealed, but at least he would
know where his lord's son could be found.
Dvergar were not known as great fighters, but they were deadly
with spells, tricks, and traps, especially when cornered in their own home. He
knew that the boy would suffer at their hands, but he would live. And he hoped
wouldn't have to stay here long.
He found a bole in a tree overlooking the garden. It was the home
of a surly squirrel, but he made short work of him and set about making the
bole into a comfortable home. He tanned the squirrel skin to make a cover to
keep out the elements and preserved the food with a spell so he would have meat
for a while, not mention all the nuts the squirrel had stored away.
************
The seven dvergar had been working a long day in the mine and they'd
come back with their donkeys laden with gold bars and gems. They were heavily
shrouded in thick cloth and dark glasses to protect themselves from the sun.
They stood only half as tall as a man with long beards sticking out of their
scarves. They were intent on getting their donkeys unloaded, but the most
observant of the dvergar noticed Nivean sleeping
under the tree.
"Hold brothers," he said in a very low tone. "We have at least one
visitor today. Do you see him lying there under the hazelnut tree?"
The other dvergar peered in that direction and Blix, the
stealthiest of the dvergar crept forward and saw the boy lying in exhaustion.
He crept back and said, "It's a human boy, scrawny by their standards, but
still taller than us."
"We should kill him," said Plix,
fingering an iron rod with arcane sigils inscribed along its length. "No good
comes from interacting with humans."
But Flix, the oldest and most perceptive of the dvergar, the one
who'd first seen him, said, "We should take him as our thrall and make him
clean for us. None of us has the time and our house becomes more unlivable
every day."
They held council among themselves in low whispers until they came
to consensus. Snix, the strongest of the dvergar and Whix, who made the cleverest items, crept forward. Snix grabbed the boy in his mighty grip. Although he was
only three feet tall, a little more than two feet shorter than the prince, he
had the strength of a bear in his arms.
Nivean came awake screaming, just as Whix was attaching metal cuffs to the boy's wrists and
ankles. With a word, the cuffs pulled together in front of the prince and
locked onto one another, so that he was bound, wrist to wrist and ankle to
ankle. He was too frightened to speak, especially with the burly dvergr staring
at him through his dark glasses.
Flix and Blix were peering into the barn, while Plix checked to ensure that the magic spells that sealed
the doors and shutters had not been broken. Seeing that the boy could not
escape and that they were alone on the grounds, they gathered around Nivean.
Flix, who often spoke for the brothers, said, "You have trespassed
on our property, boy, and your life is forfeit. We cannot have others knowing
the secrets of our house."
Nivean was terrified of these small
creatures, and he started to sob. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude in your
home, but I'm lost and I'm afraid."
He told them his tale and they were moved, not by pity because
dvergar were known neither for their pity nor their mercy, but by greed.
Hearing the boy's tale, they knew that there was little chance that he would be
missed, and they could use his services as their thrall to do all the work they
hated around the house.
"We will let you live," said Flix, "but you shall be our thrall
and do all the things necessary to make our house a pleasant and comfortable
home. If you work well, you will go without punishment. If you fail to serve
properly, your will be punished."
"I have no choice, sir," Nivean replied.
"I will submit to your rule and do what you say. I really have no other place
to go."
His life had gotten progressively worse since he'd left the castle
that morning and he was overwhelmed with despair. He couldn't survive on his
own and the dvergar were offering him safety in return for his service. The
fact that they had chained him first probably meant that serving them wouldn't
be easy, but he wanted their protection, no matter the cost.
The dvergar took his fine clothes and gave him an old tunic to
wear. Then Blix tore the clothes and smeared them with blood before leaving
them on a trail in the woods far from their home, in a place where they were
found by huntsmen who took them to the palace.
Upon seeing the bloody clothes, the queen fell into a deep despair
from which she never recovered. When she died a month later, few dared to
whisper that her death was suspicious and that her cousin and husband who now
inherited the throne was the one who had benefitted most. And those who did
dare would themselves die of mysterious circumstances.
************
Nivean had no idea how to do the cleaning
around the house since he'd grown up in a life of privilege, surrounded by
servants. The dvergar punished him with beatings, but they were careful not to
cause permanent harm. They knew that he wasn't being obstinate; he was
learning. He cleaned the house, washed the dishes, and cooked the food. He
didn't know how to cook, but he learned well enough to suit the dvergar who had
simple tastes. He served them from plates and bowls of gold while he himself
ate from a golden dish on the floor, but only after he had served them
throughout the meal.
He did the laundry, which was a tireless task since the dvergar
came home every night covered with dust from the mines and soot from their
smelters. He raked the stables and kept fresh straw for the donkeys and for his
horse. Once when he'd become frustrated and had tried to escape by horseback,
he found that the cuffs locked when he left the gate, knocking him out of the
saddle. The horse didn't leave him. He thought it was from loyalty, but it was
the magic of Timroth, his father's faithful sprite
vassal that kept the horse there and used gentle words in the speech of beasts
to convince him to drag the boy back inside the gate so the cuffs would unlock,
and he wouldn't suffer a horrific beating at the hands of the dvergar.
After he'd had a chance to recover, he was glad that he hadn't
succeeded. Certainly, the work was hard, but it wasn't really any harder than
the servants back at the castle did every day. And he was beaten when failed to
complete his daily tasks. Queen Amalthea never allowed the servants at the
palace to be beaten, but most masters in the kingdom wouldn't hesitate to use a
cane or a strap on an apprentice or a bondservant. And whatever else they did,
the dvergar kept him safe.
He had little to do in the garden because Timroth
gathered the local pixies and sprites to keep the gardens pruned, watered, and
weeded. And their magic caused it to bloom and bear the tastiest of fruits and
vegetables. They could enter the garden, but none of them had magic powerful
enough to breech the wards the dvergar used the seal the house. So long as the
house was shuttered and the doors locked, no one could get in. And even if the
house was opened, it would take a powerful mage to enter without an invitation.
Nivean suffered frequent punishment because
the dvergar were stern taskmasters. Snix wielded the
cane with force but made sure to land each blow on the boy's round butt where
it caused the least damage, but no less pain. Blix used less force, but he
preferred a flexible strap that curled around and sometimes struck him in a
more sensitive place. Whix used a short rod which
delivered a jolt of pain with a single touch. It left no marks, but it hurt
worse than the other implements.
From time to time, chosen merchants who were known to the dvergar
and were familiar with their ways and their wares would come to the house to
trade things the dvergar needed for items of silver and gold, which the dvergar
had in plenty. They kept Nivean hidden within the
house when these visitors came, but from time to time, one of the merchants
would catch a glimpse of him, and the rumor began to spread among those in the
know that the seven dvergar held a human boy as a thrall.
Nivean's beauty was a stark contrast with the
dvergar. They stood around three feet tall, with Snix
being a few inches taller and Blix being a few inches shorter. They all had
long beards and round bulbous noses that seemed too big for their faces. They
were very hairy and sported warts on their faces (and as Nivean
would later learn their penises as well).
It was Flix who first noticed how beautiful their slave was. He
was small and thin, with fair skin and dark raven hair, and his eyes were a
shade of gray that almost seemed silver in the right light. It was a month
after they'd enslaved Nivean and he saw the boy
moving around the room, just finishing the dishes. His brothers had already
gone to their beds, and he was finishing a last mug of ale.
"Come here, boy," he said, pointing to the ground at his feet.
Nivean walked over and knelt on the sold
stone. He looked up and said, "Yes Master Flix? What can I do to serve you?"
"Do you like to make your masters happy, boy?" he asked.
Nivean didn't really care whether the
dvergar were happy or not, since they made no effort to ensure that he was
happy, but he did want to ensure that they never grew angry with him for they
were quick to anger. He nodded and replied, "Yes Master Flix. I do like to make
my master's happy."
"You're a good thrall, boy," Flix replied.
Then he undid his belt and dropped his trousers. Like all the
dvergar, Flix had skin that was pale as a maggot – indeed the first dvergar had
been created from the maggots that burrowed through the flesh of the primordial
giant Ymir when he was killed. Their skin never saw the sun. They went outside
during the daylight only when shrouded in thick cloth, because the light of the
sun could turn them to stone.
Flix's penis was six inches long, which was on the larger end of
average for humans, but quite large in comparison to his three feet in height.
Indeed, it was fully one sixth his height! It was also thick and knobby, and
the boy thought it was quite ugly.
"Take my cock in your mouth, boy, and suck it," the dvergr
commanded.
Nivean hid his disgust and bent forward
toward the dvergr's heavy member. The smell was
unpleasant, a heavy, sour smell that came from too little diligence in
cleaning. He swallowed and stuck out his tongue to lick the head. The taste was
worse than the smell, but the boy didn't let on that he noticed. He gagged when
he took the head into his mouth, but Flix simply assumed that the boy was
gagging because of his inexperience.
Nivean had been masturbating since just
before his thirteenth birthday, and he knew that he would be done with the task
once the dvergr had cum. He worked his mouth to bring the dvergr to orgasm with
all possible haste. And he was rewarded, if it could be called a reward, with
the dvergr's seed as he shot load after load into the
boy's warm wet mouth.
Flix patted him on the head and then went to his room. Nivean rushed to the bathroom and washed out his mouth as
best he could, then he curled up on a blanket near the hearth and fell asleep.
And he dreamed. In the dream, he was in the house, still wearing his tunic and
his cuffs of servitude. But he knelt, not in front of the dvergr, but in front
of his handsome tutor from when he was still living in the castle. The scholar
was still relatively young at thirty, with brown hair and a small, well-groomed
beard. He'd been an object of Nivean's fantasy even
before he'd begun to shoot cum from his dick. His erotic fantasy provided him
some relief from a life of servitude.
From that first night, Flix would either stay up later than his
brothers or come out after they had gone to bed so that Nivean
could suck his cock. And pleasuring the dvergr had become another daily task
for him. It was just in a long list of jobs that he did for him without
complaint. And deep inside, Niven found that even though he couldn't claim to
love it, neither did he hate it.
It was Blix who first noticed that something was going on between
his brother Flix and the thrall. He crept out one night and observed them from
behind the door. What he saw gave him an immediate erection. He licked his lips
as he imagined the thrall's pretty lips wrapped around his own tool. And once
Flix had strutted off to bed, Blix came into the room.
"Ho, ho," he said. "It looks like my brother Flix has found
another way for you to make our house into a comfortable home, and there's no
reason why you shouldn't service me in the same way you service him."
Nivean was tired from a long day's work and
from tending to Flix's cock. The smell and the taste had improved after two
weeks of nightly cleaning, and he no longer minded sucking the elderly dvergr's cock. Now he crawled over and reached up to lower
Blix's trousers and pull out his cock. Blix's cock was almost identical to his
brother's cock in size, shape, and cleanliness. Suppressing a gag, he went to
work, licking it clean and using his tongue to bring his master to orgasm as
quickly as possible. He knew that this brother too would become cleaner over
time.
And now Nivean was sucking two cocks
every night. And in another week, it was three when Plix
the illusionist discovered the secret. And within two more weeks all seven
dvergar were using the thrall's mouth, but the line was taking too long every
night and neither the thrall nor the dvergar were getting enough sleep to work
the next day. It was Whix the artificer, the smartest
of the dvergar, who came up with the schedule. The dvergar would only get the
use of the thrall once per week, but each would have him exclusively to
themselves one night of the week.
This solution satisfied the dvergar even if it did mean longer
between their sexual release unless they wanted to go back to masturbating.
Even Nivean was happier since he didn't have to
service all seven dvergar every night. And this became the daily routine.
Over the next year, Nivean was punished
less frequently by the dvergar since his performance had improved so much. And
it had to continue improving. When he had first moved in with them, the house
was filthy, but as he had made it cleaner and more livable, their standards had
increased. It was the same for his cooking and his cocksucking skills. As soon
as he surpassed his best performance, that became the new standard for him in
the future. He'd made the mistake of seeming to be eager when presented with Snix's cock. (Snix was the
youngest and strongest of the dvergar). Snix demanded
that level of eagerness each time and soon the other dvergar saw his
performance with Snix and they too demanded that he
be eager to service their cocks.
Nivean hadn't yet admitted it to himself,
but he had become a little eager to serve the dvergar. It was clear to him that
they had come to care for him in their own way. He'd started displaying
eagerness because that was what was expected of him, but he came to care for
the dvergar as well. Although he didn't realize this change in himself until
what happened to Plix.
************
It right after the anniversary of Nivean's
enslavement by the dvergar that rumors began to reach the ears of Damian Darkheart, who now wore the crown as King Damian the First.
No one was hinting that the prince was still alive, but the traders told the
tale of a small and beautiful teen with raven black hair and skin as fair as
snow who served seven dvergar in the magical forest near the mountains.
He called his chief huntsman to a secret meeting. They met in his
private office, long after everyone else in the castle was asleep. The huntsman
was standing at attention, while the king sat in his chair behind the desk,
holding in his hand the ebon rod he used to weave his spells. He stared coldly
at his man.
"Word has come to me of a teen who serves seven dvergar as a
thrall," he said, slowly. "The description of this teen matches closely with
the appearance of the missing prince. I need you to track these merchants to
the home of the seven dvergar and determine whether this thrall is indeed my
missing nephew."
He was called a huntsman, but assassin would have been a more apt
description. He worked exclusively for the king, but the king's harsh policies
left him no end of enemies who needed to be killed. The assassin still felt the
stain of dishonor from the one job given to him by the king that he had failed
to complete. He wanted to regain his honor more than anything.
"However, I can be of service to you, your highness," he said
sincerely.
King Damian smiled at him and said, "If the boy appears to be my
nephew, then you will give him this gift."
He held forth a tunic of the finest black silk, embroidered with
colorful flowers of every hue. It was a gift worthy of royalty, tightly woven
for strength, but with only two layers of cloth so light that the whole tunic
could be wadded into a ball and held in the hands. The king folded it carefully
and placed it in a box made of cherry wood.
"Be careful not to touch the cloth with your bare hands," he said.
"The inside of the tunic has been treated with a poison made of magical venom.
It will be activated by body heat and then it will kill whoever it has touched.
Only a master alchemist would have the skill to counteract the poison.
"You will track these merchants for they know the way to the
dvergar home, and then you will call on them after the merchants have left. You
will sell them the teas and rare foods that I will provide you and then you
will offer them the tunic as a gift for their pretty thrall. After he has worn
it for a few minutes the poison will take effect and you will be long gone."
"Your highness," he said. "How do you know that the dvergar will
not claim the tunic for themselves? After all, the boy is just their thrall."
"Because it is too elegant for the dvergar," the king replied.
"They are a practical people, but they like beautiful objects to adorn their
homes. Play up the beauty of the thrall and insist that the tunic will make him
even more of an ornament for their home."
"Do you think they care so much for the thrall?" your highness.
"As you said, they are dvergar."
The king sat down and leaned back in his chair. He smiled and
said, "I have heard tales that the dvergar have begun to value their thrall,
perhaps even to love him. You will see."
************
And it was true what the king had heard. The dvergar were limited by
their agreement that the thrall belonged to each of them only one night a week,
but they had realized that he could be persuaded to serve them at other times.
The agreement prevented them from ordering him to serve on days other than
their own because it caused dissention among them. So, they had taken to trying
to seduce him to serve at other times.
The first thing Nivean noticed was that
the dvergar began paying more attention to their cleanliness and to their
appearance. They had begun to brush and braid their hair and to trim their
beards. And they took greater care to ensure that they smelled better. Quix the alchemist had created new soaps that were better
at removing dirt and grime, as well as removing foul odor.
The second thing that he'd noticed was that they had begun to help
him with his work while they were home. He still did most of the work during
the day while they were at their mine and their smelters, but they would dry
dishes for him in the evening. And then there was the day that they told him to
sit at the table and enjoy a meal with them instead of waiting to eat from
bowls on the floor. He still got up to do the serving, but now it was with a
smile.
"Let me serve you, masters," he would say. "You work hard in the
mines and need to rest when you come home."
And these weren't just words. He had begun enjoying the looks of
contentment on their faces as they relaxed in the comfort of their home after a
long day's work. He could see how much they appreciated his efforts. Sometime
over the last year, they had taken to bathing before dinner. And Snix had even begun complementing the boy on his work in
the house. Even Flix, who typically found something to be critical of, would
grudgingly admit that the house was much more like a home and that Nivean was to be credited for that. He would follow such
statements up with a list of things that could be improved, but Nivean could feel the underlying affection behind his
words.
It had been a year, and Nivean had
turned fourteen. He'd always been small and now he had grown to five feet tall,
putting him two feet above the dvergar. And his hair had not been cut in a
year. Now it hung down to his shoulders. He had also begun to grow hair on his
genitals. One night when he was scheduled to service Quix,
the alchemist called him into his laboratory.
"Nivean, you are old enough now that
your body had begun to show certain changes," he said.
The dvergar had begun to call him Nivean
instead of "boy" or "thrall", and he was happy with that because it was a sign of
how much they had come to appreciate him. He noticed their small kindness and
he worked hard to make sure that they didn't change their minds. However, he
was uncomfortable having this conversation with the dvergar alchemist. He
wished he had a human adult he could ask about his changing body.
Knowing that Quix was expecting some
acknowledgement to his statement, Nivean replied,
"Yes master, I had noticed myself. I think it's normal for boys my age."
"Humph," the dvergr said. "It may be normal, but I have spoken to
my brothers and four of us have convinced the whole that we have grown
accustomed to the way you looked when we met you. We have decided that we do
not want this change in hairiness to continue. As for myself, I have decided
that I would prefer you not have any hair on your body."
He pulled out a small jar and said, "This unguent will remove the
hair and keep it from growing back."
He pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves and then continued, "So
I am going to put the unguent on those parts of your body that we do not want
to grow hair. It's going to hurt, and I will punish you if you resist me. Do
you understand?"
Nivean did not want the dvergr to remove his
body hair. He knew that it was a sign of manliness among his own people, and he
hoped one day to be able to return to them. But the dvergar seldom punished him
these days, and he remembered how painful it could be. He also knew that
resistance was futile. They probably wouldn't really beat him if he resisted,
but Quix would call Snix in
to hold him so that he could restrain him.
"I understand, master," he replied sullenly.
"I said that this will hurt," Quix said,
"so I am going to chain you so that you can't move too much. It may seem cruel,
but I am only ensuring that we can get through this experience quickly and
won't have to repeat it."
Then he pulled Nivean over to a pair of
chains that were suspended from the rafters. When he touched the magic cuffs
the boy wore to the chains, they fastened tightly, as if welded together. The Quix did the same with the chains that attached to the
floor. With a word, the chains drew taut, holding the boy's arms and legs
outstretched.
Without further conversation, he began smearing the unguent on Nivean's body. He made sure not to get any on the boy's
eyebrows or in his luxurious hair, but he covered every other inch of his body
with the white paste. And the alchemist hadn't been lying when he said that it
was going to hurt. Shortly after it was applied, a burning sensation began
everywhere the unguent touched. Quix left it on for
what felt like an hour but was only a few minutes. It was however long enough
for the unguent to dry into a thick paste. Nivean
started crying. He begged Quix to remove the paste.
Then he began sobbing, and still Quix stood and watched
his horologium. Even when the boy began screaming, he continued to watch until
he was sure enough time had passed, then he used a strigil to scrape the paste
off his body.
After pouring warm water over Nivean's
body and cleaning him with a floral scented soap, he released him from the
chains. The boy fell to the floor, still crying. He'd been lulled into a sense
of false security by the signs of kindness the dvergar had shown him over the
year, but he remembered that they considered him their property and that they
felt free to do with him whatever they wanted.
"It's over, Nivean," Quix
said. "There's no point in crying. Dry your body and follow me to my room. I've
lost enough time and I expect the same level of service you've been giving. If
you fail to perform to expectations I will have to beat you."
The thing was that Quix was always quick
to say that he was going to beat him, but he didn't really do it, and
over time Nivean had come to realize that in a
strange way, the dvergr was attempting to joke with him.
Nivean used the towel he's been given and
dried his body. Then he followed Quix down the hall
and up the stairs to his room. The alchemist had the teen lay down on the bed
and he took out a small jar of a different, more lightly scented, unguent and
he rubbed it into Nivean's skin. And wherever the
unguent touched, the pain went away.
"I'm sorry that it hurt when I removed the hair from your body, Nivean," he said. "I didn't want to hurt you. I don't like
hurting you."
Quix then removed his clothing and lay
down on the bed. His cock was erect and leaking. Nivean
turned and knelt over the dvergr on the bed and took hold of his cock. He
kissed it gently, then said, "Oh master, your cock is so mighty and powerful,
please let me worship it for you."
Quix raised his eyebrows and said, "If you
truly wish to worship my cock, human boy, I will not stop you. Go ahead and
show me how much you desire to taste me."
Over time, the dvergar' demands had grown more elaborate, and this
was a game they played. They enjoyed seeing the human boy debase himself and
beg to service them. And he had begun to enjoy the sense of power he felt when
he sucked their cocks. They could masturbate, but he knew that they craved the
pleasure he brought them and that he had control over whether they got it.
Nivean swallowed Quix's
cock. With a year's practice he had learned to take it into his throat without
too much discomfort, but he'd also learned that the dvergar liked it when he
choked and gagged and pretended that they were too large for him. And so, he
did. He'd also learned exactly how much strength to use when fondling each of
their hairy scrotums. Quix liked firm pressure and
gentle stroking.
Soon the dvergar alchemist began shooting down his throat. Nivean waited until Quix was done
and then he pulled his mouth back to suck the last of the cum out of his cock.
He breathed deeply, sighed, and then licked his lips.
"Your seed tastes better than any food I've ever had, master," Nivean said. "I'm not worthy to taste anything so fine.
Thank you for honoring me."
"You were adequate this evening, Nivean,"
Quix said sarcastically. "Since you did your job, you
can sleep beside me."
Nivean did want to sleep with the dvergr.
The bed was much more comfortable than the blanket by the hearth, and he would
sleep better, even though he knew that the alchemist would wake up and demand
that he suck his cock at least one time during the night. And as he was falling
asleep, Nivean felt the dvergr's
hand stroking his smooth body and murmuring, "so smooth, so beautiful". He had
to admit to himself that the sensation of the dvergr's
hand moving across his hairless skin felt good.
In the morning, Nivean was made to serve
breakfast while nude. The dvergar wanted to see his smooth and hairless body.
They ran their hands over him while he served their porridge and sausage.
"It's smooth, like soft leather," Blix announced.
"No, it's smooth like fine marble," Whix
countered.
Each dvergr had a different opinion as to the feel of Nivean's skin, but they all agreed that it was smooth. When
they went to work, the boy pulled his old tunic over his head and set about
cleaning. As he worked, he dreamed that he was back in the castle. His mother
had believed him about her husband's plots, and she had put the man to death.
And now there was a dance to celebrate his return. All the ladies of the court
wanted to dance with him, but his eyes caught that of a handsome young knight
across the dance floor. They approached each other and began to dance. While
they danced, they kissed. The other dancers drew back and watched them. The two
of them soon found a dark spot in one of the hallways, and Nivean
sank to his knees and removed the knight's codpiece, releasing a massively
erect cock. And then the prince swallowed it to the root and didn't let go
until he had earned the knight's sweet seed.
He sighed and wished it could be, but his life was now dominated
by his duty to service the seven dvergar, and he didn't see that changing. It
wasn't safe for him outside their house. If his stepfather ever knew that he
was still alive, he would send an assassin.
Over the next month, Nivean came to love
his hairless body. He decided that he liked the smooth feeling of his skin, and
he suspected that he would like it even more if he could rub it against a sexy
young man. The dvergar were too small, too hairy, their muscles too much like
stone and their cocks far too knobby. Mostly, he thought they were too old for
him. He wanted someone younger.
Soon it was market day. This was the day three-times a year when
the merchants came to visit, once in the spring, once in the summer and once in
the fall. Each time they brought valuable goods and traded them for gold and
silver objects. The dvergar were master craftsmen and everything they made was
a work of art and the merchants knew that they could resell it for much more
than they paid.
Nivean used to hate market day. The
merchants would be at the house all day and he would be locked in a room, but
after he'd been seen a few times and the merchants seemed unfazed by his
presence and his servitude, the dvergar had allowed him to come out and look at
the wares they'd brought. On the last trip, they'd purchased two new tunics for
him. They were short and they were somewhat plain, but they were better than
the rags he'd been wearing, and since a tunic was the only item of clothing he
was allowed to wear, he treasured the gift.
Today there were only two merchants. The one who brought spices
and fancy foodstuffs hadn't shown. The other merchants said that he hadn't been
there when they'd set out for the trail to the dvergar's house. They were
worried about him, but they couldn't wait. They had a tight schedule and they
had to travel from the duergar's house to the caverns of the cave trolls to
trade for valuable furs before dusk.
They'd brought the usual stuff, mostly grain, wine, and mead,
along with smoked meats and various cheeses. The dvergar took Nivean's advice on some of the foodstuffs because he'd
become proficient in seeing what was good and what wasn't. But the stuff he was
most looking forward to seeing wasn't there, the spices, the most expensive
cheeses, the fruit jellies, and the candy. The dvergar were disappointed as
well.
It was later in the afternoon, an hour or so after the other two
traders had left, that the third trader finally arrived. He wasn't the man
they'd seen on the last trip, and he claimed to be the nephew of the older
merchant. Still, he brought two donkeys laden with luxuries.
Unbeknownst to the dvergar, or to Nivean,
this man wasn't the trader. The real trader was dead, his body left in the
woods so that the assassin could take his trade goods. He'd followed the trail
of the other traders carefully. It wasn't easy. There were illusions and other
tricks, but he was an expert tracker and unlike last time, there was no one
laying new illusions when he found his way past those that had been laid ahead
of time. In the end he had found the house he was looking for.
The dvergar seemed suspicious at first, but eventually they were
satisfied. It was the trade goods that won them over. The dvergar were overly
fond of candy, ripened cheeses, smoked and preserved fish, and certain rare
alchemical ingredients.
When the assassin saw the thrall, he immediately recognized the
prince, but he had long practice in deception. If anything, the prince looked
even handsomer now that he was a year older. With his long hair and smooth skin,
he could almost be taken for a girl.
"Your thrall is quite pretty," he said, once the dealing had been
done. "I'd heard that dvergar valued things of beauty. It's been a pleasure
doing business with you, especially since it was our first time and you treated
me fairly."
They had been all too willing to take advantage of him and drive
an unfair deal if the truth be known, but he'd allowed them to think they'd
gotten the better of him unaware. It wasn't his merchandise anyway. Some of it
came from the king and the rest from the real merchant he had killed. And it
would set them up to believe that he was naïve enough to make an extravagant
gesture.
"My uncle wanted to make sure that you were happy with me taking
over the run, so he sent something as a gift. He knows that you are serious men
who have little use for finery, but he also knows that you value beautiful
things, so ..."
He drew out the cherry wood box and opened it. Then he drew out
the fine tunic inside. "This is not a tunic for a serious man, but it is just
the thing to decorate your pretty thrall and make him even more of an ornament
for your home."
The dvergar examined the tunic and pronounced it to be fine. The
assassin said, "Can I put it on him to ensure the fit so that my uncle will
know what's needed for future gifts?"
The false trader could see the light in the dvergar's eyes at the
sight of the beautiful garment, and he smiled inside. When the dvergar agreed,
the assassin pulled the simple tunic off the boy and fitted the fancy tunic
around him. It was even shorter than his other tunics, but it was attractive,
and it made Nivean's pale skin seem even more fair.
"It seems that the gift fits, so I should take my leave and see if
I can catch up with the others," he said with a smile.
He knew that he had only a few minutes and he didn't know what the
dvergar were capable of doing to him once they found what he had done. He
wanted to head back the way he came, but he would have to go further along the
trail and circle back to allay suspicion. He was just up the road, out of sight
of the house when he heard the screams.
Nivean was modeling the tunic. The dvergar
asked him to spin around and when he did the tunic rose high enough to reveal
his penis and his buttocks. He knew that he would be exposing himself every
time he bent over or stretched, but the dvergar seemed to like it for that very
reason. He was becoming resigned to being even more on display for them than he
already was. With their reaction, this was going to become the new expectation.
Suddenly he felt fire run across his chest, his back, his
buttocks, and his arms, everywhere the tunic touched. He screamed in pain and
tried to pull the tunic off his body. It was Plix the
Illusionist who finally managed to get it off him. "There's something smeared
on the fabric!" he yelled. "There's no damage to the flesh so it must be a
poison.
Quix ran to his lab and grabbed his
alchemy bag. He tested the thin layer of viscous gel that coated the interior
of the tunic and quickly concluded, "It is a deadly poison made from the venom
of a hydra."
"Can you cure it?" asked Snix. Of all
the dvergar, he was the kindest to Nivean, and seemed
the most affectionate.
"There is no time to craft a cure," he said sadly. "I have the
ingredients, but I don't have the time."
Glix, the spellweaver,
the most magically powerful of the dvergar said, "I can do it, if we can find a
leech in the pond."
The dvergar ran out to look for a leech in the small pond that sat
at one end of the garden. They were reaching into the muck to no avail when Timroth overheard them. He knew where to find what was
needed. He flew to the great morass that lay a mile behind the dvergar's own
house. He was small, but in need a sprite can fly faster than an eagle and it
took him only a few moments to get there. And he spoke to the naiads who dwelt
in the swamp and begged their help. Soon
he was speeding back to the garden. Since he was invisible, the dvergar didn't
see him drop the three-inch worm onto Snix's arm.
"I have it!" Snix said. "I have the
leech we need to save Nivean."
"Curse that lone trader!" Blix murmured. "He poisoned our thrall,
and it was my night to have him service me!"
Timroth was filled with anger. If his lord's
only son died, he would fail in his mission. Besides, he had come to love the
boy, often watching him when he worked in the garden. He knew that dvergar were
misusing him, taking as their right that which the boy should freely give only
to a lover. His anger over the boy's treatment by his masters combined with his
anger with the human who had done this deed to speed down the trail to find the
merchant.
Meanwhile Glix took the leech and placed
it over Nivean's heart and used his magic to draw the
poison from the boy's body into it. The parasitic worm sickened and died, but
the boy was saved. They were cheering so loudly, they barely heard Plix when he began to scream. He'd gotten only the tiniest
amount of the poison on his finger, and that's why it took so long to take
effect.
While Nivean slept, his body drained of
energy by his experience, Plix screamed and yelled as
the poison burned through his body. The dvergar tried in vain to find another
leech, but there were none to be found. And Timroth
didn't hear the commotion because he was on the trail of the false merchant.
When Plix breathed his last, his face
grew peaceful and calm. Then, in the manner of dvergar, his body turned to
stone. In the morning, they carried him across the trail from their house and
they laid their brother's body on the ground to rest among the trees until
nature should reclaim it.
It took Nivean a month to recover from
his ordeal, and during that time Snix kept him in his
bed and tended him carefully. The dvergar now knew that Nivean's
enemies had tried to kill him and that those enemies had killed their brother Plix. They took council and determined that they were going
to keep Nivean safe and that his enemies were now
theirs as well.
The dvergar wouldn't admit it to one another, but each of them had
come to love Nivean, but few of them knew how to show
it. It was during this time that their thinking had changed. They weren't just
protecting Nivean because he belonged to them. They
were protecting him because they didn't want anything bad to happen to him.
************
Back in the castle, the Warlock King Damian Darkheart
fumed. His oldest retainer had not returned from his mission. Finally, he had
summoned the shade of his servant and asked him the questions he needed to
know.
"Did you succeed in killing the prince?" was his first question.
And the shade of the dead man answered, "Yes, may lord. I put the
tunic on him, and I heard the screaming and dvergar crying out in confusion."
"And who killed you?" the warlock asked the shade.
"A small man with wings," the shade answered. "I couldn't reach
him, but he struck me with arrows, and my muscles went limp everywhere the
arrows struck. Soon I was lying on the ground. He left only to return riding on
the back of a badger. And the badger ate me while I was still alive."
Fairies thought
the warlock. It only made sense. The boy's father was one of the seelie folk
himself.
"And where can I find the dvergar?" the king asked.
If the dvergar had somehow managed to cure the poison then he
would need to know where to find them. But that was a question the shade
couldn't answer. There had been illusions to mislead unwary travelers and he
had been following the fresh trail left by the merchants who knew the way. But
he learned the general location. If it became necessary, the warlock knew that
he would have somewhere to start looking.
************
When Nivean finally recovered, the house
was a mess and so was the barn. The dvergar had done minimal work while they
were in mourning. And of course, Nivean was the
thrall, and the dvergar left the cleanup to him. They decided that they'd been
in mourning long enough. They hadn't been to the mines since they'd lost Plix. It was time to get back to work, but they changed the
schedule. From now on, they would work six days a week instead of seven and one
dvergr would always remain in the home to protect Nivean.
It would be the same dvergr who's turn it was to use the thrall.
When the dvergar had told Nivean that Plix had died from the same poison that had nearly killed
him, he'd spent hours crying. Plix had been the most
vocal of the dvergar opposing Nivean's presence among
them. He'd said many times that no good would come from interacting with
humans. But Nivean missed him now that he was gone.
The dvergar gave him Plix's old room and the bed as
his own. It was good to have a place of his own, but he preferred sleeping with
the dvergar. Often he would crawl into bed with Snix
when it came time to sleep.
Snix remembered the tunic that had killed Plix, but it wasn't the poison that he was thinking about.
It was the way that tunic had pulled up and exposed Nivean's
buttocks. He'd been thinking about the boy's butt since that time, and he'd
determined that he wanted to see it again, that he wanted to do more than see
it. It was his turn to stay home to guard the thrall, and his turn to use him.
Instead of working at home, he followed the boy around and watched him work.
Once all the housework was done, he took the boy aside and showed him a special
tool for shooting water up his butt.
"Take a bath and then clean your butt inside and out, Nivean," he instructed. "Before my brothers come home, I'm
going to stick my cock in your bottom and take my pleasure. When I'm done,
you're going to suck it clean, so you'd better do a job washing it."
Then he took both of Nivean's tunics
while the boy was preparing, and he hemmed them so that they were a few inches
shorter. He wanted to see the boy's butt whenever he wasn't standing still. He
was becoming obsessed with Nivean's body. He liked
everything about him, from his lustrous hair to his fair skin to his eyes like
molten silver. When the boy smiled at him, Snix felt
a warmth in his heart.
Meanwhile in the bathroom, Nivean was
cleaning himself as thoroughly was he could. He was resigned to this next phase
of his servitude. He'd wondered why it had taken the dvergar so long,
especially Snix always seemed fascinated with his
butt. He liked Snix better than the other dvergar. It
wasn't that he ever let him forget that he was their thrall. He took his
pleasure with greater frequency than the others, and he always insisted on Nivean being completely subservient, but he was gentle when
it came to the act itself. And when they were done, he would always sleep
wrapped around the boy when they were done.
As he was cleaning himself, Nivean
thought about what was about to happen. It was true that he didn't really have
a choice, but he had to consider whether that mattered. He liked Snix and he had to admit that there was a part of him that
wanted to feel the dvergr's six inches inside him.
He'd thought about it sometimes when he was alone, and his fingers were
stroking his own butt.
It will almost be like I'm going from being housekeeper to six
dvergar to having six dvergar husbands, he mused, and the thought made him
feel a little naughty.
Once he was clean, Nivean walked naked
into the sitting room where Snix was putting the final
stitches in the hem of his tunic. He put it on and noticed that it came only an
inch below his buttocks. He would be flashing the dvergar with every move. He
turned and stretched, and he saw a glint in Snix's
eye.
The dvergr put his hands on Nivean's hips
and held him. "Kneel down and here and let me get you ready, Nivean," he said. "Your bottom is like a work of art, you
know. In architecture, there is a curve that is widely held by the experts to
be perfect. Without measuring the exact curve of your buttocks, I would guess
that they are as close to this perfect curve as can be."
Nivean laughed. Coming from a dvergr this
was high praise indeed, and it may even have been intended as sexy talk. Then
he knelt and Snix begin rubbing oil onto Nivean's hole. It did feel good when the boy's master
touched him there, and he felt himself begin to stiffen. The dvergr chuckled
and said, "I'm glad that you enjoy this because it will be better for you if
you do. Once my brothers find out about this service, it will become the new
expectation."
"Yes master, I know," Nivean replied.
He liked Snix better than the other five
dvergar. His mind had come around to the point of looking forward to doing this
with him, but he wasn't sure about the other brothers. They would demand it,
and he would comply, but ... he would deal with that situation later.
He tried to relax, but his excitement and fear over what was
coming next combined to prevent him from becoming calm. Snix
took his time. He wanted to fuck the thrall, and he was going to do it, no
matter what. (And this was the biggest problem with the dvergar. Even as they
grew more affectionate, they still considered it their right to make use of
their thrall however they wished.)
But the dvergr had time to make it pleasurable for Nivean. He worked more oil inside the boy's hole, slowly
teasing him with his finger until his anus began to relax. Then he was able to
slip a finger inside, followed by two. And then the boy relaxed completely. His
bottom opened in welcome for Snix and the dvergr
wasted no time. He slid inside him and began fucking.
There were few dvergar women and it was difficult to find one who
was unattached. The truth was that he and his brothers were probably rich
enough to attract wives now after many years of working the mine. In the
meantime, they had the thrall, and the thrall had an ass that was fine.
Nivean's penis had become hard as well. His
body was enjoying this act, and his mind was enjoying it as well, at least it
was enjoying it with his favorite of the dvergar. Snix
was getting close himself. The boy's bottom was warm, soft, and tight. It was
more than he'd hoped for. He reached down and grasped the boy's erection and
held it in his hand. It was still small, although it had grown somewhat in the
last year. He stroked it gently as he thrust inside the boy. And then the boy
began to cum. He was crying and writhing around while he spilled his load on
the floor. His ring clamped hard on the dvergr's
cock, and Snix exploded, shooting his load inside the
boy.
When the dvergr pulled out, his cock was covered in cum and oil,
but nothing else. It made him happy because the boy was going to suck it either
way. When Nivean turned around, he has a wary smile
on his face. It had felt good to be fucked. Even if this wasn't the first time
he'd dreamed of, he'd enjoyed it and he knew that he would want to do it again.
He was still smiling as he sucked the dvergr's cock
clean.
"You made a mess on the floor, Nivean,
clean it up," Snix commanded, and Nivean
stuck out his tongue and licked it up.
Once their lovemaking was done, Snix had
become his old gruff self. He was embarrassed to be too soft with his
thrall. But he watched Nivean as he made dinner,
seeing his butt cheeks peeking at him with every movement. He couldn't resist
taking him twice more before his brothers returned. During dinner he told the
others how fine the boy's ass was and now all of them began taking him this way
on their assigned days.
During the year, there was one more major change for Nivean. Quix called the boy into
his lab on the seventh day, the day formerly assigned to their dead brother Plix, and he handed Nivean a
bubbling potion in a glass mug.
"You've grown to the towering height of five foot two inches," he
said. "My brothers and I have decided that we don't want you to become a
hulking behemoth like most humans. Drink this and you will stop growing."
Nivean protested, "But Master Quix, I am still just a boy. I don't want to stay this
height forever."
The alchemist explained, "We are your masters and we have decided
that you will grow no taller. Drink the potion now or I will have my brothers
hold you while I make you drink it anyway."
Tears came to Nivean's eyes, but he knew
that he had no choice but to comply with the command. He choked down the bitter
brew. It felt like fire running through his body. It was almost as painful as
the poison had been. The agony lasted for an unknown time and when he awoke he
was lying in the bed that had once belonged to Plix.
The dvergr Snix was lying in bed with him and was
stroking his naked form, his hand playing with the boy's penis, which was now
hard.
Nivean felt weak in every joint, but his
penis felt good. None of the dvergar had ever pleasured him until Snix had stroked him while fucking him. Since that time, Snix had stroked him to orgasm every time he fucked him,
but the other dvergar did not. But now Snix was
stroking him when there was nothing in it for him. Nivean
lay there and enjoyed it.
He felt the pleasure begin in his penis and he started to moan.
Then Snix put his other finger in Nivean's
mouth, and the boy immediately began sucking on it. When it was wet enough, he
pulled it out and slipped inside the boy's pretty ring. As soon as something
had entered his butt, Nivean cried out and his penis
tightened in Snix's firm grip and then spewed seed
all over his belly.
"Now you have to clean up the mess," Snix
said, scooping the cum from the boy's belly with a gnarled finger and putting
it the boy's mouth.
His words were chastising but his tone was kind and there was a
smile on his face. He gave the boy a look of affection, and he was smiling at
him. As he scooped the last of the cum up and started to move it to Nivean's mouth, he suddenly stuck it in his own mouth
instead. He smiled and nodded his head. From that point on, Snix
always tasted the boy's seed when he came, but none of the other dvergar ever
did. Nivean knew without being told that this was one
experience Snix had not shared with his brothers. It
was something just between the two of them.
Over the course of the year, each of the dvergar developed their
own way of using the thrall. Snix was always loving
and affectionate, and Nivean preferred his days
assigned to the strongest of the dvergar to any of the others. He had even come
to prefer those days to the seventh day when he was allowed to rest.
Blix was the harshest of the dvergar. Snix
had told his brothers that fucking the boy's ass was better when Nivean himself reached orgasm, but Blix had discovered that
he could make the boy cum by squeezing his nuts hard and then releasing them.
As for his part, Nivean feared this brother, but he
couldn't deny that he enjoyed the painful feeling of his nuts being abused. It
wasn't just the dvergr he feared, but also the part of himself that enjoyed the
pain.
Flix was the most efficient of the brothers. He followed the same
procedure each time with exacting detail. He would finger the boy's ass, first
with one finger, then a second, then a third. Then he would enter him and
thrust until he came. Nivean had counted and he
discovered that the dvergr would cum after tens strokes and it never took more
than fifteen. When he'd cum, Nivean would suck him
clean and then Flix sent him to his own bed to sleep. The boy had taken it upon
himself to try and seduce the oldest of the dvergar, but to no avail. It was
always the same with him.
Glix the spellweaver
would use his magic to take control of the boy making him more than a thrall;
he became a puppet trapped inside himself while his body performed at Glix's command. The spell weaver never pleasured the boy,
but when he got close to orgasm himself, he would use a spell to make Nivean's ass clamp down on him to bring himself off. Nivean never came from Glix using
him. On those few occasions when he came close, Glix
would use a spell to prevent it. Sometimes he hung on the edge for a long time
until the feeling eventually went away. Afterwards, the dvergar mage would also
send Nivean to his own bed.
Whix was the greatest artificer among the
dvergar. He made devices of great cunning and subtle power. He tried many of
his devices on Nivean. One was a metal rod that he
slid inside the boy. It would vibrate and send a small shock to a specific spot
inside his rectum, and the shock would grow in intensity until the boy clamped
down with muscles he didn't even know he had on the rod. The rod had a dozen
bands and Nivean soon learned to squeeze only the
band that had delivered the shock. In time, he could match the rod note by note
as it shocked his rectum in a pattern like a complex piece of music.
The most insidious of these devices, however, was a metal sleeve
of rings that he fit around the boy's cock. On command, the rings would
contract and expand, or even move along his shaft like cold hard fingers
encircling his cock, stroking it painfully until he came. On the day's Nivean was assigned to him, Whix
would insert a plug in the boy's ass that would vibrate and keep the thrall
stimulated all day, but a ring that he'd placed around the boy's shaft
prevented him from cumming. He'd discovered that the boy performed most
enthusiastically when he was excited, so he always kept him excited on his day.
Quix the alchemist was the most demanding,
often requiring the boy to suck his toes or to lick his hairy ass. He was also
the one who first had the boy drink his piss so that he wouldn't have to walk
to the bathroom. He would give Nivean a potion on
each of his nights that would make his skin, genitals, and anus more sensitive.
But he trained the boy not to cum without permission. Whenever Nivean failed to hold back his orgasm, Quix
would punish him and start over. Eventually Nivean
found himself conditioned. He couldn't cum unless a man ordered him to do it. A
side effect was that he would also become erect upon command. And repeated
exposure to Quix's potion had the effect of making Nivean more sensitive even when the potion was no longer in
his system. The slightest touch on his skin or especially on his anal ring
would send shivers through his body.
As the year passed Nivean's hair grew
longer, but his body grew no taller or thicker and his penis remained the size
it had been when Quix had given him to the potion
that arrested his growth. He was and would remain five foot two inches tall and
one hundred and ten pounds, with a penis that was barely four inches long.
And in their own way, all six of the remaining dvergar came to
love him, even if some of them showed their love through domination. Nivean became accustomed to their treatment of him; he even
came to enjoy most of it. He always enjoyed his time with Snix,
but on some level he enjoyed being at the mercy of the other dvergar, even
being the puppet of the spellweaver.
************
The Warlock King Damian Darkheart lay on
the floor of his study writhing in pain. His body was present, but he'd cast
his mind deep into the umbral realm where he groveled before his arcane patron
the Dread King of Shadows.
"I don't know why the ritual failed, Master!" he cried in pain. "I
performed all the steps as written. The power of the land should have been mine
and through me it should have been yours."
The shadows grew deeper until only the cold lambent glow of the
powerful being's eyes remained. And those eyes cut right into the warlock's
soul promising to consign him to oblivion at any moment. "Do not tell me how
the ritual should have worked," he demanded. "Even you should have been able to
follow the ritual as written. If it failed, it is because you were wrong in
your assumptions. You must not be the rightful heir to the throne and the power
of the land. The prince must still be alive."
"That's impossible, Dread King," the warlock began, but he was cut
off by waves of freezing pain.
"It is possible. It is the only explanation," the Umbral Lord
said. "You will prepare the ritual again, and you will perform it immediately
upon the death of the prince. Poison did not work last time, so use the spell
of deepest slumber. When the prince lies without possibility of waking, you
will be the rightful heir."
Then the king awoke and considered the words of his magical
patron. It had seemed such a small thing all those years ago to sell his
service to a powerful being from the shadow realm in exchange for power in the
mundane world, power to take the crown and the throne. But now his patron was
demanding a foothold in the mundane world by placing his servant on the throne
and seizing the power of the land. There was no way to break the contract
except upon his death, and Damian Darkheart wasn't
prepared to make that sacrifice.
He sent for his son Bruno. Now nineteen years of age, he had
become the heir upon the death of his brother Armand. He had no talent for
magic, but he was skilled with a sword, even if he was most skilled when
striking from behind.
"Bruno my son, I have just discovered that there is a threat to my
crown, and therefor to your position as heir," he said. "Two years ago, I
thought that your dead brother had removed the last obstacle when he killed your
cousin, the rightful heir to the throne. But I have now discerned that the heir
still lives. He has been taken as a thrall by a family of dvergar who live near
the Great Morass in a valley near the mountains."
Bruno smiled. He was going to get a chance to kill a man, and he
enjoyed killing. "I hear you father," he said, "I will go to these dvergar, and
I will kill the heir. If the dvergar get in my way, I will kill them as well."
"No son," the king said. "The spirits of the land will know if you
kill your own blood, and they will reject you as my heir. I will give you a
magic hair comb that you will place in your cousin's hair. It will put him
under the spell of deepest slumber from which he will never awaken."
Bruno seemed perplexed. "How do I put a comb in the boy's hair?"
The king maintained a stoic expression, but inside he seethed that
this fool was now his heir apparent. Bruno was a beast, not a skilled knight
and charismatic leader like his older brother had been, nor a thoughtful and
intelligent scholar like his younger brother Caspian. He'd always intended to
find some way to make Caspian the heir, since he was the most intelligent.
That's why he'd kept his youngest son ignorant of his machinations.
"Seduce him, Bruno," the king said. "Surely you can seduce a
fifteen-year-old boy, especially a boy who has already been used by dvergar.
With all your flaws, an ugly face isn't among them. You're particularly
well-favored in your appearance. From what I understand, there is hardly a boy
or a girl in the castle, the town, or the surrounding farms you haven't had.
Your cousin will be just one more."
Bruno smiled a handsome but cruel smile. As he remembered, his
cousin was a cute little thing unless the intervening years had been unkind to
him.
"Yes father, I will do it," he swore.
************
It was Flix, the eldest dvergr brother, who was at home with Nivean on the day that the stranger arrived. He was a
taskmaster, and he took it upon himself to make sure that the thrall caught up
on all the work he may have missed over the last week. He kept the boy moving
in his scandalously short tunic. Once Nivean had
completed all the regular cleaning, Flix set him to scrubbing all the
baseboards in the house.
Bruno had come upon the house without too much trouble. He didn't
know that the now deceased Plix had been the
illusionist who had protected the approaches with glamors and misdirection, so
he assumed that he was merely smarter than those who had tried before. After
watching the house for hours, he was convinced that the only one dvergr was at
home with the long-haired boy in the extremely revealing tunic whom he assumed
was his cousin. He crept into the garden through the gate, believing himself to
be unobserved.
Timroth the sprite saw the man in the black
garb sneaking into the garden. Over the last two years, he'd gathered a half
dozen other sprites who owed fealty to Sir Lucan of Silverthorn.
The seven of them used glamor to appear as songbirds and flew into the garden
to observe him. They saw the short sword he wore at his hip, and they spotted
the dagger that was thrust into his boot.
Bruno Darkheart hid by the side of the
house. He'd seen the old dvergr come out carrying a ladder, which he'd leaned
against the hazelnut tree, then he's gone back into the shed. When he returned
he was carrying a bushel basket which he placed on a blanket he spread near the
tree. Then the dvergr nodded to himself and called out, "Nivean!
Come out here."
When no one came out of the house, the dvergr began stomping his
way toward the door. And that was when Bruno struck. He ran toward Flix and
grabbed him by his long beard and pulled him into the air. The dvergr was armed
only with a walking stick, and he struck the larger human several times to no
avail. Bruno replied by pulling his dagger from his boot and stabbing the old
dvergr several times in rapid succession. Dvergar are tough and even this
violent treatment may not have killed an old dvergr like Flix, but during the
fight, his heavy scarves had been dislodged. When the sun struck the skin of
his face, he turned to stone. Bruno hid the petrified body behind the shed and
then attempted to enter the house, but he couldn't open the door.
When Nivean finished the last of the
downstairs baseboards, he went to find Flix. If it were Snix
who was at home today the boy would have taken a much-needed break, but Flix
didn't believe in rest periods for his thrall. (To be fair, Flix seldom took
rest breaks himself.) When he couldn't find the old dvergr in the house, he
went into the garden. He didn't see him, but he did see that he had set up the
ladder to harvest the hazelnuts. He decided to go ahead and get started so that
Flix would have no reason to be angry with him. He climbed partway up the
ladder.
Bruno watched as the boy who must be his cousin climbed on the
ladder. The boy was stretched so that his tunic was hiked up like a shirt,
exposing his smooth round butt. Bruno crept forward until he could have reached
out and touched his cousin.
"It's a delightful garden with many beautiful things to see," he
said.
Nivean looked down and blushed; a handsome
stranger was staring directly at his exposed bottom. The man reached up, brushing
his hand against the boy's round butt as he did so, and said, "Let me help you
down so that we can talk."
Nivean tried to adjust his tunic when the
man set him down, but his small penis had grown hard, and it was poking out the
front. The man took hold of it and stroked it. He leaned forward and kissed the
boy's lips.
"My master is around here somewhere, and he doesn't approve of
visitors, sir," Nivean said. "I don't want you to
draw his displeasure."
Bruno pulled the younger teen close to him and kissed him
passionately. Then he rubbed his well-trimmed beard on his neck. Nivean felt that there was something familiar about this
man, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Two years had passed, and Bruno
had gone from being a handsome and slender youth to a powerfully built young
man who stood over six feet tall and carried 180 pounds of solid muscle. His
features had matured and were now obscured partially by the beard.
Nivean was terrified of Flix's anger because
the elder dvergr was not afraid to punish his thrall for any infraction, but at
the same time he was excited by the stranger's touch. For the last two years he
had fantasized about sex with a tall, handsome human. And this seemed like a
dream to him.
"This tunic doesn't cover much," the man said, running his hands
along the teen's smooth hips, "yet it covers too much."
He untied the belt and lifted the tunic over Nivean's
head, revealing his slender and hairless body. The sight of his naked cousin
inflamed Bruno's passions like no other had. The boy was hairless and smooth,
looking younger than his 15 years. His long hair, slight stature and delicate
features gave him a hint of the effeminate, but his small muscles were firm,
giving him the feel of a boy. In Bruno's mind, this made him perfect. For a
moment, he considered ignoring his father's instructions and bringing the boy
back to the castle. But then what would happen to his own future? There was no
way he could hide him away to use him in private. He would no longer be heir to
the throne, and he would lose everything.
He pulled the boy down onto the blanket and kissed him
passionately. He moved his hand between his buttocks and stroked his soft anus.
The boy shivered and cried out in pleasure. His ready response sent a pulse of
pure pleasure flowing though Bruno's cock. Before cursing him with eternal
slumber, he had to have him.
"I'm going to fuck you boy," he said. "Would you like that?"
Nivean couldn't hold back. "Yes sir!" he
cried. "Please take me now before my master returns."
Bruno pulled his cousin's legs up and held them with his left
hand. With his right, he probed the boy's little sphincter. Despite heavy use,
the boy was still well-shaped and tight due to repeated exposure to Quix's potions. But his rosebud was well-trained to respond
to a forceful man. It opened like a flower opening to taste the morning sun.
He moaned and his head rolled back, then he let out a primal yell.
"That's it, sir! You've touched me in the right way and my body wants you!"
"Get hard for me, sweet boy," Bruno growled. "I'm going inside you
now."
And then he pushed inside that silky smooth bottom. Nivean's muscles clamped down and he used all the skills
he'd learned over the last year to satisfy his demanding dvergar masters. Bruno
thought this boy's ass more talented than the most experienced whore boys in
town. It was like his butt was gripping his shaft and stroking it from
within. He was going to cum. Only one
thing was left to push him over the edge.
"Cum now boy! Spill your seed and take my own!" he yelled.
The boy came on command, as he'd been taught by the dvergar. And
sure enough, the convulsions of his ass sucked the cum right out of Bruno's
shaft. And Bruno didn't even need to ask. Once his cock had deflated, the boy
pulled off him and sucked it down to the root, licking it like it was a candy
cane.
After their coupling, the two lay on the blanket and Bruno played
with Nivean's hair, drawing it back into a loose
tangle. Then he placed the hair comb in the tangle. He held the boy in his arms
as he succumbed to the curse and fell into a deep sleep. When he stood up and
got dressed, he had tears running down his cheeks. His hard heart had been
moved by his destruction of this beautiful boy.
He moved so that the sun was behind him, and he spoke to his
lengthening shadow. "Tell my father that it is done," he said.
Something darker detached itself from his shadow and flew off
toward the castle, something his father had placed there for just this purpose.
Then Bruno left the garden. Timroth had seen the
entire thing from his perch on the branch. He knew that the comb would need to
be removed before it was too late, but he was unable to touch it. It must have
been warded against the powers of faerie, which made him realize that Damian Darkheart must know that the faerie had been watching over
the boy. He sent Aerinoth, the swiftest flyer among
the sprites to warn the dvergar to come quickly.
Then he led the remainder off to follow Bruno down the trail. They
didn't bother to conceal themselves. They flew around him, just out of reach,
striking him with arrows that brought pain even though they caused little
damage. They skillfully herded him toward the caverns of the trolls until he
fell into their clutches. They watched as the trolls stripped him and put a
leather collar around his throat. If Nivean had
suffered pain and indignity as the thrall of the dvergar, it was nothing
compared to the degradation and suffering that Bruno would suffer for the rest
of his life servicing the trolls.
************
The shadow messenger brought the news that the prince had
succumbed to the spell. Damian Darkheart decided to
act quickly. He performed the ritual, but he didn't notice that someone had
altered the scroll. The power of the land had lain dormant since the reign of Queen
Amalthea's great-grandfather. He'd killed all the mages or driven them out of
the kingdom, using the power of the land to aid him in finding them. And then
when he'd died, there was no one to use the ritual of empowerment to pass the
power to his son. But The Dread Lord of Shadows had the ritual and he had
gifted it to his pet warlock.
Where once the ritual would have delivered the power of the land
specifically to Damian Darkheart (provided he was the
rightful heir), now it specified that the power be delivered to whoever was the
rightful heir. Not knowing that the ritual has been changed, the king was happy
that the spell had been completed, and he expected that the power of the land
would grow within him over the next year.
************
The young scholar watched the king leave his study, then he crept
in. Although the door was magically warded, he passed easily within. He went
through the room past the hidden door to the secret chamber and looked into the
mirror. The image of Sir Lucan appeared.
"It has been done," the scholar said.
"You've done well, young man," the knight in the mirror replied.
"There is only one thing more you'll need to do if you want to remove the curse
that is afflicting the kingdom. I know it will be difficult, but you're doing
the right thing. You know how this will end if you don't."
"I do, your highness," the young scholar said. "And I will do it.
I must ... even though it will cost me."
The knight in the mirror nodded at the young man. "You will have
to train your sword arm in secret," he said. "The king cannot know, or he will
find some way to ruin you or seduce you to his side."
The young man nodded his head in affirmation. "Yes, your highness,"
he said. "I begin my training this evening with the Knight of Morning
Blossoms."
************
The dvergar had been surprised when Aerinoth
the sprite had appeared before them and told them to hurry home, that their
brother had been slain and that Nivean lay under a
curse that must be lifted within the hour or he would never awaken again. Snix and Blix took off, leaving the other dvergar to lead
the donkeys. Snix was the strongest and could run
faster, but Blix was quick and determined not to be left behind. When they
arrived in the garden, Snix ran over and stroked Nivean's soft hair. He found the cursed hair comb, and he
removed it. If he hadn't known it held the curse affecting Nivane,
he would have assumed it was a trinket given to him by one of his brothers. He
was holding Nivean's head and kissing his brow when
the boy awoke.
Blix was pulling his brother's petrified body out to lie next to Nivean. The three of them, two dvergar and their human
thrall stood around the body and wept openly. And they were still weeping when
the other dvergar arrived. Where once they were seven, now they were five. They
carried his body across the trail and laid him to rest next to the petrified
body of Plix. At the last moment, Whix
had remembered that the magic thrall cuffs Nivean
wore kept him from leaving the property, so he released them. They fell to the
ground, and the teen ran over to join the dvergar the in mourning.
When they had cried their last tears, they went back into the
garden and were surprised to see the branches of the trees full of songbirds,
singing their own song. Then the birds changed into sprites who flew to the
ground and bowed their heads towards Nivean.
"Your highness," they said. "We are the loyal remnant of your
father's forces, and we are at your service until such time as your father can
be freed."
The dvergar looked around nervously at the two dozen sprites in
the garden. They were small, but everyone knew that they were not to be
disregarded. Their aim with their three-inch arrows was precise and they could
do more than prick the skin.
"My father is still alive?" Nivean
asked. "Where is he?"
Timroth rose and hovered in the air,
surrounded by a nimbus of silver light. "He is trapped in a magic mirror, your
highness," he said, "imprisoned by the warlock Damian Darkheart
and forced to do his bidding."
"We have to rescue him," Nivean said,
"although I don't know how to fight, and I don't know my way to the castle."
"Not yet," Snix said. "We must have time
to prepare. This warlock has killed two of our brothers and he's tried to kill
you three times. We must be sure we can beat him. We won't get another chance."
Timroth bobbed up and down in a sprite's
version of a nod. "Snix is not wrong. Given time, the
dvergar can provide an arsenal of magical weapons, and there is one more hero
who must be trained if we are to avoid civil war when this is done. But we must
have your word, your highness. You have the blood of humanity and of faerie
running through your veins and that makes you our best hope.
"Your maternal great-grandfather made war on the magical folk of
this land. Many were killed and many were driven into hiding. When you have
been crowned, will you promise to rule for all the people, mundane and magical
alike?"
"I will," Nivean promised.
"You will be safer staying with the dvergar for now," Timroth said reluctantly. "Their home is protected better
than you know."
Snix nodded and said, "That's true, but
the protections will be stronger if you remain part of the household instead of
just becoming a guest, so you will be safer if you remain our thrall until we
are prepared."
"Yes master," Nivean said.
He held out his wrists and Whix put the
metal cuffs back on them. This time he had chosen to be the thrall of the
dvergar.
"I will forgo the ankle cuffs, if you promise not to run away,
thrall," Whix said.
"I promise, master," the boy replied.
************
If Nivean thought his masters would
treat him differently now that were allies, he was wrong. They did, however,
become more affectionate with him, and sometimes they would tell him things
that must have been meant to win his favor.
One-time Whix said, "Snix
and I were the ones who voted not to shrink your penis to an inch. My brothers
don't like to see it when they use you. I offered to infibulate you instead,
but Snix vetoed it. All decisions had to be
unanimous."
Another time, Blix said, "I almost cut your penis off after Plix was killed, but I didn't."
It was like he expected to be recognized for not mutilating the
boy. And their demands did not dimmish. The remaining five dvergar took one
night each week to use him sexually, and he still did all the housework and the
cooking. And he found out the hard way that any failure still resulted in
punishment.
"You cannot fool a magical warding with clever trickery, Nivean," Glix explained. "If you
aren't truly our thrall then the wards will begin to unravel. They won't remain
strong if we have a guest dwelling under our roof for a great length of time."
Snix and Whix
had begun to stroke his butt sometimes even when they didn't want sex. And Snix began sucking Nivean's cock
after using him, and occasionally even on the two nights he had off. And all
the dvergar began giving him gifts. Glix used his
magic to craft several beautiful tunics for him, all of which were scandalously
short on him. They made jewelry for him, including several gold chains for his
neck. Snix insisted on piercing his ears and placing
black sapphire stud earrings in them. Blix crafted nipple rings of gold with
tiny topaz captive beads. Whix insisted on giving him
handsome rings for his penis, including a ring through the head, six rings down
his shaft and one on his taint just behind his scrotum. And Quix
gave him many different potions to drink that he promised would be beneficial
in the future.
And all the dvergar now complemented him on how pretty he was. He
sat for a painting for Blix, although he didn't know what the dvergr had done with
it or the miniature portrait he had fashioned from it.
The next year passed, and now Nivean's
hair hung down his back to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He began to
wonder if he would ever be freed, if the dvergar and the sprites would ever be
ready to free his father and to overthrow his uncle. In the meantime, he had
grown from a pretty boy into a very handsome youth.
The one change he didn't notice because it came upon him slowly
was the awareness of the land around him. He'd begun to feel the trees, the
rivers, the hills, and the mountains. It was the power of the land flowing into
him. In time, he would learn to master it and he would be a better ruler for
it, sensing what areas of the kingdom were in distress and what help they
needed.
************
Meanwhile back in the castle, the warlock king was fuming. The
power of the land had not come to him as he'd planned. He didn't want to
explain his failure to his master again. Where had the power of the land gone.
He'd spent the last year finding the most distant relatives of the prince he
could find and having them quietly killed. But the simple fact was that he
himself was the rightful heir after the prince. If the power had not come to
him, then the prince must still be alive. Bruno had not only been captured by
trolls and turned into their catamite, but he had failed to complete the only
task he'd ever been given that mattered.
This time, the warlock was going to do the job himself. He
couldn't rely on his sons. He only had the youngest left, and Caspian was a
scholar with no magic and no skill with a blade. And Darkheart
wanted to keep his youngest son's hands clean so that there would be no ritual
impurity to prevent the power from flowing to him if for some reason he himself
were unacceptable to the spirits of the land.
Every man he'd sent to spy on the dvergar had failed to return.
Someone or something was killing them in the forest. But he was more dangerous
than any mere warrior. He crept out of the castle and set out for the house of
the dvergar.
************
The young scholar had seen him leave and was anxious to go, but
first he had to perform one task. He slipped into the secret room. He focused
on the mirror, cleared his mind, and became one with it, making himself its
master. Then he called forth its prisoner. "Sir Lucan of Silverthorn,
be free from the mirror that holds your image."
And then the former prince-consort of the kingdom stood in the
room. "It is time, now, young hero," he said. "You are saving the
kingdom. Replace the king's boots with the dvergr made pair and then go to meet
with the Knight of Morning Blossoms. He will show you a secret faerie trod that
will take you near to the dvergar home, but you are the only one who can undo
the warlock's evil curse."
"What evil curse?" the young man asked.
"You will know when you see it," Sir Lucan replied. "Now I must
find the rebellion and convince them to gather quickly enough to destroy the
warlock's partisans. He can still win through mundane means even if his magic
fails."
The young scholar smashed the mirror before going to his room and
pulling on his mail coat made of finest dvergar true silver, so lightly spun
that it hung like silk but protected better than heavy brigandine. Then he
retrieved the thin sword that looked like silver but had been magically forged
from moonlight. And finally, he took up his dancing shield and silver helm with
its arcane sigils that would allow him to see invisible things and even to see
in pitch blackness. He took one last look in the locket at the miniature image
of the prince he was going to rescue. He'd spent hours over the last year,
gazing at the picture of the beautiful young man before him. He'd always loved
him, but he didn't realize how deeply he'd fallen in love with him, his
prince, the one man who could lift the curse the warlock had brought to the
land.
He went to meet his guide, the agent of his patron. Unbeknownst to
the warlock king, this scholar-knight had also taken a powerful patron. He
served the Queen of Air and Fire, Mistress of Summer. He was as prepared as he
could be.
*************
Damian Darkheart had chosen to use
stealth instead of blunt force. In shadow form he had flitted through the
darkness unseen by the sprites who patrolled the forest. It was they who had
killed so many of the king's agents and left their bodies lying for the forest
animals to consume. He approached the dvergar home and felt the protections
upon it. He drew strands of shadow and spun them into the form of a large
umbral hound that clawed the garden door.
It didn't take long for the dvergr within to open the shutters of
one of the second story windows and to shout down at the hound, "Begone, umbral
beast, you cannot pass into this house, and I will destroy you if you don't
depart at once."
The problem with wards was that they worked only when the house
was sealed. Seeing the open shutter, the warlock stepped into the shadow of a
nearby tree and then stepped out of the shadowy corners of the room. There was
resistance, but King Damian was a mage of considerable power.
Glix spun around sensing the warlock
king's presence and lifted his metal wand. "I see you've come out of the
shadows to play, warlock."
He slashed with his wand and blades of spinning metal flew toward
the warlock, but the warlock lifted his ebon rod and an umbral shield appeared
in front of him. The blades sliced through the shield but were consumed in the
process. The warlock seemed to darken for a moment, as if trying to hide behind
shadows. Then the darkness split and formed three identical versions of the
warlock making four in total. The dvergar spell weaver sent a shower of fiery
sparks to fill the space where his enemy stood, but again the shield appeared
and absorbed most of the damage, but some got through to burn the warlock.
Then the warlock waved his rod and strands of shadow burst out of
the corners of the room and reached for the dvergr, wrapping him in their icy
embrace. Glix was cutting through the shadow tendrils
with his wand, but more were reaching for him as the warlock kept calling them
forth. At that moment, he realized that he was outmatched. Like most dvergar
mages his magic was mostly practical in nature. The warlock was a master of
battle magic. In a minute or so, the dvergr was wrapped from head to toe in
tendrils of shadow. Then they withdrew, taking him with them. And so Glix the spell weaver was drawn into the darkest umbra and
never seen in the light again.
Then the warlock assumed the form of a poor bedraggled traveler,
an old man with a stooped back. He left the house and walked around to the
front door and knocked frantically. In a minute Nivean
opened the door.
"Please young man," the warlock said, the lips of his assumed form
quivering. "I've been separated from my guards and the woods are full of umbral
beasts. Please let me come in and rest my feet and have a drink of water."
Nivean was distressed. He had a kind heart
and he wanted to help the old man, but the dvergar had given orders that no one
was allowed to come into the house.
"Please sir," he said, "come around to the garden gate and you can
sit in the shade, and I'll fetch you a cool drink."
Once he was seated in the garden, he watched the young man fetch
him a cool beverage. He had to admit that his young cousin was quite
attractive. For a moment he considered changing plans and taking him to his bed
as consort. The boy could wear the crown and he himself would rule the kingdom,
but he dismissed that thought as mere fancy. The boy had to be put out of the
way. It was the only way that the power of the land would pass to him.
"If you don't like ale, sir, I can fetch you some water," he said
extending the mug, with a kind smile playing across his lips.
The glamored warlock took a sip of the cool refreshing beverage
and smacked his lips. Then he pulled an apple out of his pocket. It had been
treated with a magical elixir that would put the boy into a sleep that could
only be relieved by the tears of the warlock or his descendant. And since
Damian Darkheart had no intention of spilling tears
over his nephew and his only son Caspian was safely back at the castle, the
prince would never awaken this time.
The warlock thanked him and took another sip. "That's very kind of
you, young man," he said. "Now let me share my apple with you."
He cut the apple in half and extended part of it to Nivean. "Take it, boy," he said. "You don't want to be
rude, do you?"
The warlock took a bite from his half and inclined his head
towards his rightful prince. Nivean took a bite from
his half. He smiled at the guise of the old man, then grew still and fell out
of his chair. The warlock pulled the bezoar stone from his own pocket. He had
exposed himself to the spell as well as the prince, and this spell was so
powerful that it had cracked the magical stone and made it useless. He'd been
afraid of that. He would be vulnerable to curses until he could replace it.
Now that he'd found the dvergar home he could shadow walk back to
the castle in haste. And that was a good thing. He'd placed legions of shadow
guardians between this home and the civilized part of the kingdom. Someone had
been working against him. They'd changed his ritual and he was sure they'd been
in his private quarters. Now they wouldn't be able to get here and save the
prince, even if they had some obscure method of breaking the curse he was
unaware of. He stepped into shadow and then strode into the castle.
************
The dvergar arrived home to find the doors open and Nivean lying apparently dead in the garden, for the curse
had quieted all his bodily functions so that he appeared to all perception as
if he were dead. They looked for their brother Glix.
He was the only one they knew of who could find a way to reverse this curse, even
if it were possible. But he was nowhere to be found. It was like he had never
been here. But the shutters of an upstairs window were open and there were
signs of a fight.
In sadness, the dvergar removed the thrall manacles from Prince Nivean's wrists. They removed his tunic and dressed him in
a special long sleeved undertunic of dark gray. Over it they placed a tunic of
pale blue silk with silver trim. They put tight leggings of dark gray on his
legs, followed by a belt of silver links and a pair of black leather boots. On
his wrists they placed gold bracelets, and they adorned him in the gold chains
they'd made for him. Finally, they placed a golden diadem on his head. Now they
thought he looked like the prince he was.
They carried his body across the trail and laid him down next to
their two brothers, but they placed him in a glass casket with a lid so that
the animals wouldn't mar his remains.
"Tonight, I will make some stone unguent so that we can anoint his
body tomorrow allowing him to turn to stone and be honored as if he were a
dvergr," Quix said. And the remaining three brothers
nodded their agreement.
Meanwhile, in the forest, the young scholar was sweating. He'd
been beset with umbral beasts and shadows from the moment he'd entered the
deeper parts of the woods. Their incorporeal touch had been unable to penetrate
his mail and his shield kept many of them at bay; still one had touched his
left arm and now it hung limp, tingling and unable to move. The umbral
creatures feared his sword which cut through them like light through shadow.
Around him nearly half the sprites lay dead, but there remained only a few of
the shadows.
"Go," Timroth said. "We can handle those
that remain. Only you can save the prince."
Reluctantly, the scholar, now a mage-knight of the Seelie Court,
ran toward the dvergar home. He knocked on the door until it was answered by Snix who held a spear and wore mail. It was strange to see
dvergar accoutered for war, and it was disturbing to the young man. He hadn't
heard Blix come up behind him, but he felt him poke him with a poignard he had
lifted beneath the mail and pressed against his inner thigh.
"Please!" he said. "I've been sent by Sir Lucan of Silverthorn to save his son, Prince Nivean."
Snix lowered his spear. "You're too late,
boy, whoever you are. The warlock king has already come and Nivean
is dead."
"That ... can't be," the scholar said. "I was told by Sir Lucan that
I can save him."
"I'll show you, lad," Snix said. "We all
loved NIvean in our own way."
Snix and Blix led him across the trail to
where Nivean lay in his glass coffin. The scholar
touched a moonstone on the handle of his sword and the area was illuminated
with soft moonlight. He looked at the face of the young man lying beneath the
glass. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same boy as the one in
the locket.
"No!" he yelled. "I've been training for a year for this task, and
it can't end with this way."
He flipped the lid of the coffin and it fell onto the soft grass.
He dropped to his knees and used his one good arm to lift the still warm body
and hold him to his chest. He bent down and kissed those lips, and single tear
gathered at the corner of his eye and dropped onto Nivean's
face.
With a gasp, Nivean drew a breath. The
dvergar stepped forward and the scholar pressed Nivean's
face to his chest.
"What's happening?" the prince mumbled, reaching up and putting
his arms around this strong young man's neck. "Help me up, please."
The scholar was strong enough to lift a slight young man like Nivean, so he pulled him out of the coffin and stood next
to him. The scholar was a couple inches under six feet tall, but he towered
over Nivean, who was eight inches shorter than him.
The scholar dropped to one knee and said, "Your highness, I have
been sent by your father, Sir Lucan of Silverthorn to
bring you back to the castle. There is a rebellion underway against ... the
usurper."
"I don't understand," Nivean said. "My
father is trapped in a mirror."
"No, your highness, I freed him before coming to retrieve you," he
said. "Your father is now leading the rebels against my ... against the warlock
king's partisans."
"Who are you, sir," Nivean asked.
The scholar knight looked up at his rightful king and said, "I am
your cousin Caspian, your highness, the son of the man who usurped your throne
and tried to kill you four times, but I have been working to undo his deeds
from the moment I learned of them."
Before Nivean could say anything, Snix took up his spear and Blix tumbled behind Caspian,
pressing his poignard to the young man's throat. "And why shouldn't we kill you
where you kneel?" Blix demanded. "Your father killed three of our brothers."
"That is for his highness to say," Caspian responded. "Although I
have not had the chance to swear the oath, I am his man and if he wants my
life, he can have it. But as for myself, I would add that had I not come here,
you would stand no chance against my father, and he would hold the power of the
land to amplify his own. I am the one who altered his ritual so that the power
passed to the true heir, the uncrowned but undoubtably legitimate king."
"Wait, masters," Nivean said. "We need
to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now."
Snix shook his head and said, "Master no
more, your highness. You are the legitimate king, and we are ... your allies for
now."
The four went back to the dvergar home and Nivean
led his cousin Caspian back to the baths. The dvergar had cleaned him well when
they'd thought his dead, but Caspian was in dire need of a bath. While he was
soaking in the tub, Nivean went to change into a
simple tunic for bed. When Caspian came out of the bath, Quix handed hime a
potion that restored to him the use of his arm.
His face broke into a smile when Nivean
came in and sat with him on the couch. The prince was so pretty, with his long
black hair, fair skin, and silvery eyes that it made Caspian's heart ache. His
short tunic exposed the entirety of his smooth, hairless legs. The boy was soft
and effeminate by nature. When he sat on the couch, he tucked his legs
underneath him and canted his head sideways in a way that was as guileless as
it was sensual.
"Can you tell me why you turned against your father, Caspian?" Nivean asked, placing one hand on Caspian's arm, sending a
thrill running through him. The sound of his name on the prince's lips was like
honey in his ears.
"There are a lot of reasons, your highness," he replied. "My father
has been a terrible king. The people hate him. He uses force of arms to get his
way instead of talking to those who have complaints. Those are the obvious
reason.
"But I also know that he's a warlock who's made a pact with a
powerful being of shadow, and we can't have a king who's the servant of darkness.
It could endanger the nation.
"And then there's what he did to you. He tried to kill you, and I
... I couldn't let him get away with it because I ... I've always liked you Nivean, and it ... when you disappeared and I thought you
were dead, I was sad, sadder than my dad and my brothers. I didn't know why at
the time, but when I found out that my father was behind it, then I knew."
Nivean moved his hand to Caspian's shoulder
and said, "It's okay. I understand. I don't blame you for any of your father's
crimes."
Caspian put his hand on top of Nivean's.
Then he leaned over and kissed him. When his lips brushes against the prince's
he blushed and sat up quickly facing forward.
"I hope ...," he began, but Nivean cut him
off by grabbing his face and kissing him on the lips.
The boys kept kissing, both sitting in just their tunics.
Caspian's came down to his knees, but Nivean's barely
covered his groin. Their lips were locked, and their arms were wrapped around
one another. Caspian pulled Nivean onto his lap,
facing him. Their lips never parted.
"You are beautiful, Nivean," Caspian
said. "You were always beautiful, but the last three years have made you even
more stunning."
He pulled Nivean's fine tunic over his
head and set it on the couch next to them, exposing his slender, smooth, and
hairless body. He was fascinated by the feel of his skin under his hands, like
softest silk, but warm and inviting.
"I think I may have fallen in love with you when I first saw you,"
Caspian whispered. "I didn't know that's what it was at the time. We were just
children, but I knew that I loved you before you disappeared. That's why I was so
sad when you went away, and that's why I was so angry with dad when I found out
what he had done. And when Bruno disappeared, I knew that he'd gone after you
and I could only hope that you would survive. I shouldn't admit that I was
happy when he didn't come back. It gave me hope that you still survived.
"That's the moment I decided to train myself in arms and magic. I
knew that I needed to be ready to find you and to protect you. That was even
more important to me than helping you regain your throne. You became my
obsession."
He kissed Nivean's lips again and asked,
"Did you ever like me the way I liked you?"
The smaller teen laughed. "I liked Bruno," he said. "Everyone
liked Bruno."
It was true. Nivean had the biggest
crush on his cousin when he was younger. He'd been handsome and strong. It was
still hard for him to believe that his cousin had been the traveler who'd tried
to kill him but looking back he realized how similar they were in appearance.
Caspian laughed. "Yeah, I like Bruno, too, even though he was my
own brother."
They kissed some more, then Caspian's hands ran down Nivean's back and cupped his buttocks. "I want you Nivean," he said. "I want to take you to bed tonight, but I
don't want to force you to do anything."
Nivean untied the laces at the top of
Caspian's tunic and pulled it open. The vee neck opened down to his solar
plexus. Nivean thrust his hands inside his cousin's
tunic and ran his hand over his lightly hairy chest, so different from his own
smooth skin.
Then he kissed Caspian's strong pecs and murmured, "You couldn't
force me to do anything in this house with four dvergar in it; they're tougher
than they look. But if you want to take me to bed with you tonight, I will go
with you willingly."
And it was true. He didn't want to tell Caspian that he hadn't
been attracted to him three years ago. Back then, Caspian had been the fat kid,
and Nivean's eyes were glued to Bruno, the tall and
muscular seventeen-year-old, but now Caspian was tall, although not as tall as
Bruno had been, and he had worked hard to transform his fat into solid muscle.
And he'd done it so he would be fit to rescue his cousin. And Nivean found the idea that his cousin had become a heroic
knight just to save him made him feel like a princess in a faerie tale.
Caspian picked Nivean up and carried him
up the stairs to his room. Blix noticed them and smiled. He was happy for his
former thrall, and judging from Nivean's small but
hard erection, the boy was happy as well. Caspian carried his younger cousin
into his room and laid him down on the bed. He crawled in next to him and
kissed his lips. This time he thrust his tongue into Nivean's
mouth. The smaller teen had never been kissed this way before, and he was
clearly enjoying it. He was holding Caspian's shoulders and moaning.
Caspian took charge of their lovemaking and Nivean
was happy to allow it. Each young man was finding his own place in their
budding relationship. Caspian preferred to be in charge and Nivean
was most happy when he was submitting to his lover. This wasn't something he'd
learned from the dvergar; it was something deep inside him.
Caspian's fingers moved down and stroked his lover's small cock.
He loved how it fit in his hand and he could hold it tight. He also loved the
beautiful golden rings the dvergar had used to decorate it. When he held the
pretty little penis, he could feel the rings lying hard next to the soft skin.
Then he moved his fingers down and stroked Nivean's
crack. He touched his small anus and Nivean moaned
and moved his hips. Seeing Nivean's response
convinced Caspian that he was more than ready to go further.
"Do you have any oil in here?" Caspian asked.
Nivean reached over to the side table and opened
the drawer. He pulled out a jar of scented oil and handed it to Caspian.
"I'm sorry that I'm not a virgin, Caspian, but I've done this
before, a lot of times," he said with a sigh and blush. "You won't hurt me."
Caspian kissed him while he rubbed oil into his hole, then he
pressed gently but firmly inwards, sliding his finger inside the tight little
boy hole. After all he'd been through over the last three years serving the
dvergar and surviving assassins, Nivean was
embarrassed that he wasn't a virgin. Like any of that was his fault, or like
Caspian cared in the slightest.
"I'm glad you're not a virgin, your highness," Caspian said. "It
always hurts the first time, and I'm glad that I won't be the one hurting you."
He worked oil inside Nivean and was
amazed at how the boy's rectum had been trained to grip tight and squeeze. He
couldn't wait to feel that gripping sensation on his cock. He'd fucked boys
before. Even back before he's lost fat and put on muscle, he'd fucked boys. But
this was the first time that he felt love for the boy he was about to fuck. He
knew Nivean was sixteen years old, although he didn't
look it. He was only two years older than his cousin, but the boy was eight
inches shorter and so thin that he felt frail and delicate in his arms.
"I need you to know what I am," Nivean
said, tears coming to his eyes. "I've been the thrall of a family of dvergar
for three years. Each of them has used me dozens of times. There were seven
when I first came here and ... it's not just that I'm not a virgin; it's that I'm
a well-used whore!"
Caspian kissed his lover to silence the boy's verbal self-abuse.
"And I'm the son of a murderous, usurper and evil warlock," he said. "If you
can forgive me for that, then I can forgive you for your past. None of it was
your fault and I wouldn't care if it were. I don't care what you were. I just
care what we are now, and what we may be."
Nivean sobbed, "Thank you, Caspian. Thank
you. I needed to hear that."
"Shh," Caspian said as he pressed past his lover's strong ring. "I
have seven inches to get inside you, and I want your attention while I do it."
Nivean stopped talking and tried to push
further onto his lover's cock. Soon they were fully joined, and he was using
his ass to milk Caspian's rod, while Caspian licked his hard little nipples,
flicking the gold rings with his tongue. Caspian began thrusting in and pulling
out in a rhythm.
"Your ass is so warm and silky, I wish I could sheath my cock in
it and leave it there," he said between love bites.
"Oh!" Nivean called out as his lover hit
his special spot and made his cock twitch. "That's it. That's the place,
Caspian. Keep doing that."
Caspian was an attentive lover, so he pressed slowly a few times
until he was sure that he was touching the exact spot and then he made sure to
hit it with every subsequent thrust. Nivean felt like
he was in heaven. Of the dvergar, only Snix had tried
to make him feel pleasure when using him, and he hadn't been successful very
often.
Caspian gently stroked Nivean's hairless
cock. He was excited by the soft and smooth skin. Despite its small size, it
wasn't a boy's penis; it was the fully functional penis of a teen on the cusp
of young adulthood. When he knew he was about to cum, he stroked it more
forcefully.
Niviean grabbed Caspian's waist with his legs
and pulled him tight against him, and then he cried out, "I'm cumming! Oh gods,
that's it."
Caspian had barely been touching his lover's rod, but it jumped in
his hand and spilled warm seed all over him, and Nivean's
ass clenched quickly with sharp spasms. Caspian felt his cock contract and then
he shot his seed into that tight warm bottom. The teen lovers lay there,
Caspian holding his smaller cousin in his arms until their breathing returned
to normal. Then they each cleaned the other's cock before snuggling down to
sleep together. The bed was small, so Caspian pulled Nivean
on top of him and drew the blankets up over them both.
In the morning, they made preparation to leave. The dvergar locked
their house and for the first time in decades, they traveled the road toward
the capital. It took them three days to get there. Caspian had means to send
messages through small animals he summoned from faerie, and Nivean
was beginning to learn how to use the power of the land to find people,
animals, and plants within the kingdom. He was able to feel the location
of the warlock's men, and Caspian was able to inform Sir Lucan.
Meanwhile the warlock king was fuming. He'd returned from the
dvergar home quite satisfied with himself. He'd felt the power of the land
begin to transfer to him, but within a few hours it receded, and he could no
longer feel it. He'd stormed into his study to use the slave in the mirror find
out why, but the mirror had been cracked and the slave had been released. Then
he found his son gone and a note left in his place, and it was signed by Sir
Lucan of Silverthorn.
We have your son with us. Be careful
that your do not cause him harm through your actions.
He cursed aloud, "First he took the woman who would have brought
me the crown, and now he's taken my son!"
In his mind he was convinced that Sir Lucan had kidnapped his son
and was threatening his life. It never occurred to him that Caspian had
willingly joined forces against him, and he could harm him by accident while
fighting the rebels.
Then he sent a message to call for his partisans, the men loyal to
him personally rather than to the kingdom. They gathered in secret and moved
toward the castle, but they were intercepted by the rebels whose forces were
supplemented by faerie knights, including the remaining sprites who followed
Sir Lucan. Organizing the defense took most of the warlock's attention for the
next few days.
************
Getting into the castle should have been harder than it was, but
they had magic to ease their journey. Quix had a
bottle of fog, some powerful acid and powders that could be thrown into a man's
face to put him to sleep. Whix had brought a few
clever devices, including a magical golden bee that could spy around corners
and inject people with sleeping toxin. Snix was
small, but strong, and Blix could hide and was fast and deadly with a knife. Nivean knew nothing about fighting, but Caspian was a
master swordman and he had a few magic tricks of his own.
Caspian led them by secret ways through the castle and they found
themselves in the throne room while the false king was in discussion with his
council. Everyone was taken aback when they burst into the room. The guards
grabbed their swords and moved to attack, but Caspian released his shield and
it danced in front of him. Then he ripped his helm from his head, revealing his
face.
"Kneel!" Caspian yelled. "Kneel before your rightful
king, Nivean, heir to Queen Amalthea!"
The room fell into confusion, with the councilors talking over one
another and the guards unsure what to do. Because of the potion that had
arrested his growth, Nivean still looked very much
like he had when younger, although his face had matured.
"That's not the prince!" the warlock countered. "The
prince is dead."
Caspian shook his head and said, "No father. Prince Nivean survived all four attempts on his life. That's right,
loyal councilors, my father tried to kill our prince four times and failed."
The guards lowered their weapons, and the councilors were
beginning to glare in the warlock's direction. Seeing the change in the
atmosphere of the room, the warlock's face darkened and he came to a fateful
decision. He raised his rod and pointed it around the room.
"But Nivean won't survive this
attempt," he said. "And neither will any of you. There will be no witnesses."
The warlock began weaving the shadows in the room, but Caspian's
shield moved in front of Prince Nivean, and then so
did the guards. They were protecting him with their bodies, while Caspian
approached him with his sword.
Whix spoke up and said, "Nice boots you're
wearing, warlock. I spent a lot of time making them look just like your old
ones. Now dance for us!"
Against his will, the warlock began dancing a wild dance, dragged
around the room by the cursed boots. His arms were forced to move with the
dance, and he couldn't focus long enough to weave his spells.
"How long will he dance?" asked the Senior Councilor.
Whix stroked his beard and said, "Until
the grand finale I would think."
They followed the warlock as he danced out of the throne room and
up the stairs. Then he danced along the parapet and into the tallest tower. He
danced up the stairs and then danced himself off the top of the tall tower,
plummeting 200 feet to his doom on the pavement below.
************
The council hailed Prince Nivean as
king, and then three days later he was crowned. The partisans were defeated
when the army switched sides and began to round them up and Sir Lucan was
welcomed back to the castle where he was made commander of the armies of the
kingdom. Nivean surprised everyone when he took his
cousin Caspian as his Prince-Consort. There were some rumblings from the older
members of the court, focused primarily on the question of where the new king
would get an heir, but Caspian assured them that there was magic that would
allow them to produce as many children as they wanted. The graybeards still
grumbled, but the younger people thought it was wonderful.
And King Nivean lifted all the
restrictions his great-grandfather had placed on magical beings. Soon the
kingdom had dvergar, elves and goblins traveling to market and the Queens of
Faerie sent legates so that they could avoid conflict in the future.
And they all lived happily ever after.