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Yes, that’s right. A decade after I last worked on it, I am rebooting The Youth of the Dark Lord. For those of you who don’t know about it, this was a side project I started shortly after Lemma,
set in the same world but MUCH darker. My Patrons decided that, when I
finished Lemma, this should take its place, and so here is the (new) second chapter.
Maida lay curled up in her bed and
stared at the wall. Her mind whirled as she tried to process what had
Some force had take control of her
limbs, made her touch herself. It wasn’t her–she was certain of that, at
least, because when she touched herself she usually used her other hand–but
then what else could it have been? And for all that she was sure it wasn’t her
at first… by the end she wasn’t so sure. Had she been participating willingly
by the end? She had still been afraid, but… It had rapidly begun to feel very
good. Better, even, than when she did it herself.
She curled tighter at the thought.
That was the most horrifying part–it had felt good, and she wasn’t sure if
part of her might not want it to happen again.
Blearily, she realized the wall was
a little more visible than it had been throughout the night. The gray light of
dawn was filtering in through her window; she had been up thinking all
With a sigh, Maida uncurled and slid
out of bed. She was tired and felt a little sick, but there was work to be
done. If Vilnus came back and she wasn’t finished with her work, what would she
say? That she was distracted because an invisible force made her touch herself?
No, she had to work. Besides, it
might take her mind off what had happened. She stifled a yawn as she sat at the
little table, then pulled the book of herbs and her own tablet towards herself
and began to take notes.
It almost worked. For an entire
hour, she didn’t think about anything but how to distinguish between the herbs
best for various ailments.
And then her hand jerked. She stared
at it in horror, trying to force it back into position, but it wouldn’t
At least not in the direction she
wanted it to. Slowly, jerkily, clumsily, it wrote, and Maida paled at the words
that emerged from her own hand in janky, unfamiliar letters: “You are
“No,” she whimpered.
“Yes,” her hand wrote, and
she nearly shrieked.
“You can hear me!?”
“Oh yes, Maida,” her hand
wrote. “I hear you. I see you. I control you. You are mine.”
She looked around desperately, but
she was alone in the room.
“Don’t be absurd,” it
wrote. “You cannot see me. Not when I am already inside you.”
Maida whimpered as a chill ran through
her. But one part of her was quite warm.
“I feel your desire,” her
hand wrote. “That is what called me to you. What gave me power over
Maida shook her head. “No. No,
I don’t want this!”
“I feel the heat in you, smell
your arousal, taste your desire. Lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to
Maida’s free hand dropped from the
desk to her lap. Without her volition, it began gathering up the hem of her
shift, pulling it up to her waist. Then it slipped between her legs, and she
felt how wet she was.
“You see?” the force
controlling her hand wrote. “Your body knows its Master already. Soon you
will give in completely.”
Maida whimpered and tried to resist,
but her hand ignored her as it slid one finger slowly into her, then pulled it
out. Slowly it raised itself toward her face, the finger glistening
“Shall I make you taste your
desire as well?” her other hand wrote.
Mutely, mouth held tightly shut,
Maida shook her head–and found that she could shake her head.
“Then admit your desire.”
“…I’m excited,” Maida
admitted. “I can’t deny that part…” Her voice cracked and died
away. “…that part of me wants this.”
“Good girl,” her hand
wrote, while the other dropped back into her lap. It returned to her slit and
once again began feeling inside of her, and she couldn’t help but moan as the
pleasure and desire began to mount.
“What are you?” she
In his own room, Tyryn hesitated.
Who or what should he claim to be? He hadn’t really planned much beyond making
Maida his puppet–but then an idea struck him, and he smiled coldly.
“Karnath,” he made her
write. “Karnath of the Lilim.”
Maida stared in horror at the words.
She didn’t recognize the name, but she knew what the Lilim were. “A… a
demon.” He probing finger found the most sensitive spot inside her and she
gasped as it began to rub, the pleasure flowering and spreading throughout her
body. “You’re–oh!–an incubusssssss…” Her words trailed off in a
hiss of pleasure.
This was bad. Very, very, very bad.
An incubus could manipulate her lust, enflame her desires, and the more she
gave in the more control it would get, until finally…
She would belong to it completely,
an empty, soulless puppet for it to use however it wished. She had to fight,
but how? It already had so much control… Was she really that lustful a
Well… she had been looking at some
of the youths in the village down the hill, last time she went for supplies.
She’d watched them working, stripped to the waist, and then she’d gone home and
thought about their bodies that night, while she touched herself.
And the night after that.
“Oh, gods…” she moaned,
rising pleasure mingling with mounting despair and horror.
“You are beyond their
help,” her hand scribbled. “You are mine, already too far gone to
“No..!” she whimpered. Her
breathing was ragged, and she felt herself getting closer… But that didn’t
matter. What she did under its control didn’t matter because it wasn’t her
doing it! As long as her words and actions–the ones she chose herself–were
defined by resistance, it would gain no further power over her. Even if she was
about to climax, so very close, almost there…
And then her finger stopped.
A moment later it started again,
bringing her back to the edge… And stopped.
Then it did it again, once again
stopping just on the edge and not letting her over. Her free hand wrote a
single word: “Beg.” Then the finger inside her resumed its torturous
“No…” she groaned, and
the finger once again stopped.
Maida was near tears. She felt so
hot, so confused, her need to achieve the orgasm the demon kept denying her
crowding out her ability to think clearly. Then the finger started moving again,
and she gasped in delight, arching back in her chair and spreading her legs.
But then it stopped, and the word
just slipped out. It wasn’t forced–she knew it was her own words, not
something the demon was making her say–but at the same time she just couldn’t
help herself. “Please…”
The finger resumed immediately, and
she cried out in relief. She was getting closer and closer, almost there… and
“No!” she pleaded, tears
now actually streaming down her face. “Please! Don’t stop!” The finger
began to move again, but she didn’t stop begging. “Please, please, oh yes
oh please yes, please, please, please yes yes PLEASE!”
She shrieked as she came, hard and
long, her curtain of long dark hair flying as she spasmed in pleasure. Then she
collapsed, exhausted, slumped over her table.
She felt boneless, unable to
move–but one hand did anyway. “And now you are more mine than ever,
Maida whimpered, but she knew it was
She didn’t want to–but she knew if
she didn’t, it would punish her, torment her, tease her until she did, and she
couldn’t face that. Shakily, she stood, grasped the hem of her shift, and
pulled it up and over her head. She dropped it on the floor and returned to the
“Good girl. Soon I will permit
you to rest. But you have already opened a way for me to manifest physically. I
will come for you and claim your body, as we both know you desire.”
Maida moaned again as she felt a
rush of arousal sweep through her. “Yes…” she said softly. For the
moment, the fight was take out of her–and the demon was right, part of her
loved the idea of the demon taking her itself. She couldn’t help, even in her
tired, addled state, imagining what it would be like.
“Then rest until then,” it
wrote–and with that, she had control of her own body.
She should go to the tower’s little
library, she knew. She should research what she could find about demons, maybe
go down into the village and find a priest of a helpful god.
But she was so tired, and needed
rest so badly, and anyway obeying the demon wasn’t really a problem if she
wasn’t doing it out of lust, right..?
She stumbled over to the bed, fell
in, and plunged almost immediately into a dark, dreamless sleep.
In his own room, Tyryn plotted. He
was going to take Maida for himself, and soon, but at least for now it would
have to be via trickery. How, though? How to make Maida think she was being
ravaged by a demon, not him?
He looked around the room, and his
eye fell on the chest at the foot of his bed, where he stored his heavy winter
clothes. He pulled them out–scratchy woolen leggings, a fur-lined leather
jerkin, and fur-lined leather gloves. Put on the leggings, turn the jerkin and
gloves inside out, and he was man-shaped but hairy and rough-skinned, even his
hands covered in fur.
But he could do better. In the
cellar, where Vilnus worked on the most serious patients, there were metal
hooks of all different sizes for hanging up the tools of the healer’s trade,
including some quite small ones. Slipping down there, Tyryn gathered a handful
and, with great difficulty, forced them through the fingers of the inside-out
gloves. (The trick, as it turned out, was to force them through the fingertips
from without, then invert the gloves.)
Now he was ready–at least as far as
touch. Sight he could take care of as well. But what about sound? He didn’t
want to have to try to stay silent while taking his pleasure… And then he
remembered the vicious cold he had the previous winter, and the draft Vilnus
had made him drink. Foul-tasting and bubbling, the black liquid had scoured his
throat as it went down, leaving it raw and his voice a sepulchral rasp for the
better part of a day–but it had cured him. Vilnus had taught him and Maida to
make it soon after–he just needed to find his notes!
In all, it was well past noon when
he was finally ready–clothed in his demon costume, his throat scorched by a
noxious brew he had hastily concocted. One of Maida’s hairs–the last still
unconsumed by his manipulation of her–was inside his glove, tied around his
thumb, just waiting for him to stretch out and take control–not that he would
He slipped quietly into Maida’s
room. She was still asleep, which made it trivial to reach out mentally, trace
and tap the flows of energy within her. He sought out the flows that controlled
arousal and pleasure first–after playing with his new toy twice, he felt he
was close to mastering that part.
His efforts were rewarded. Maida
stirred, shifted, and moaned softly. She rolled over onto her back, and he
could see her, skin shining golden in the light of the afternoon sun slotting
in through her window. Her breasts, small but perfectly formed, rose and fell
gently with her breathing, but that motion was becoming more erratic as she
grew more aroused. She spread her legs, and droplets glistened dew-like in the
tightly curled patch of dark hair at her crotch.
Tyryn licked his suddenly dry lips.
It was time. Roughly, he used his control over her to fling her arms wide and
spread her legs further, then pin them to the bed. He held her eyes shut as
well, and then loudly snarled, “Wake, toy!”
Maida jerked awake at the most
horrible sound she’d ever heard, a deep, guttural noise unlike any she could
imagine from a human throat. Her motion was little more than a spasm,
however–she was pinned, her posture open and helpless, and gods help her, she
was intensely aroused.
She tried to open her eyes and found
she couldn’t. “K-Karnath?” she stammered. “Why can’t I
“Because I do not wish
it,” Karnath replied. “My visage would terrify you into madness, and
I prefer other methods to break you. More… pleasurable methods.”
Maida gulped. There was nothing she
could do. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move–all she could do was scream, and who
knew what this creature might do to Tyryn if he came rushing in to save her?
A weight settled onto her bed, and
she tried to flinch, but couldn’t. A hand–no, a paw, leathery and furry all at
once–gripped her neck and she gasped. Cold, sharp claws touched the delicate
skin under her jaw, but went no deeper.
“Good,” rumbled Karnath.
“Remain quiet and I will not hurt you. There is great pleasure in store
for you, greater than you have ever known… And all you need do is ask.”
Maida took a deep breath.
“No,” she said quietly, defiantly. If she couldn’t fight back,
couldn’t escape, couldn’t call for help… Then there were only two choices.
Surrender to pleasure and lose still more of herself to the demon’s control..
Or refuse. Suffer his torments, endure them, and survive–or die trying. She
“Fool,” Karnath said
calmly. “You already know I can break you. I can bring you to the brink of
pure pleasure and hold you there until you beg for release, until you surrender
out of sheer need. I have already done it. Do you really think I cannot do it
“I won’t fail again,” she
replied firmly, trying to ignore the desire already churning below her
“We shall see,” replied
Karnath, and then she felt those claws tracing slowly down over her collarbone,
toward her breasts. Not pressing hard enough to break the skin or draw blood,
but hard enough that he was sure they would leave scratches.
Then fur brushed over both her
nipple at once and she gasped. Gentler than before, the claws closed in around
her breasts, then furry, leathery palms squeezed them and she yelped.
It was like a line of lightning
flowed crackling from each nipple down to her dripping slit. She twisted and
shook, not sure if she was trying to get away or just writhing in pleasure, but
either way, her own limbs fought her to remain firmly against the bed.
Tyryn permitted himself a tight,
victorious smile as Maida whimpered and writhed and panted under his touch.
Everything was going as planned, with just one annoyance: thanks to the thick
gloves, he couldn’t feel her! His whole body was covered in fur and leather and
wool, so he couldn’t fully experience or enjoy touching the helpless girl!
Well, there’s one part of me that’s
not covered, he thought, then leaned down and ran his tongue over Maida’s hard
little brown nipple. She gasped in reaction, and his smile widened. He swirled
his tongue around it, then sucked it into his mouth, reveling in the feel and
the noises Maida made. He trailed lips and tongue and hook “claws”
down her torso, over the taut, yet softy brown skin around her navel, and
Maida yelped and panted and moaned
and pleaded–for him to stop or for him to take her, he couldn’t be sure, and
suspected she wasn’t either. He was as hard as he’d ever been, and wanted badly
to move on–but no. He needed her to be sure she was begging for more.
Pulling his face away, he lightly
raked his claws over her stomach, enjoying the little white trails they left in
her flawless skin. “You see?” he asked. “You are helpless,
powerless, already mine to play with. But I can make that play very pleasant…
All you need do is admit how much you want it.” He again quickened the
flow of energy to her arousal and desire. He could see other flows working
against his, though they weren’t as strong. Experimentally, he tried weakening
them, scattering and disrupting them.
Maida moaned. She had to resist! She
felt so empty, so needy, knew it would feel so good to have him fill her… But
she had to fight! Because if she didn’t… If she didn’t…
She had to fight because…
Her thoughts felt slow and sticky,
but when she tried to focus on them, they skidded away so easily she couldn’t
hold them. She had to fight. She knew that. She had to resist the incredible,
overwhelming pleasure Karnath offered, because of something very
She wanted so badly for him to take
her, and he was telling her all she had to do was ask! If only she could ask,
beg for relief from the emptiness inside her, plead for the torturous pleasure
to rise to a peak and then explode like last night and this morning, but…
What ha she been thinking
Pleasure. She’d been thinking about
pleasure, and thinking about begging for more, and Karnath was saying that she
could have more if she begged… “Please… Take me…”
And then he plunged into her. She
was so wet, so needy, he slid in easily, and she cried out in ecstasy at the
sudden feeling of fullness. She found she could move her limbs but she hardly
noticed, opened her eyes but didn’t see. She clung to the monster inside of
her, wrapped her limbs around him, buried her face in the fur of his chest, and
begged for more.
Very soon, she was on the verge of
climax, but she couldn’t quite get over the edge. She pleaded in wordless
whimpers, unable to think clearly enough to use language, and thrust her hips
up against him, and hooked her legs around his waist and tried to urge him deeper,
but still she couldn’t. Still she trembled and shook, quivering on the edge,
desperate, pleading, begging, crying–
And then he spurted inside her. As
his hot, sticky seed filled her, he finally allowed her release. She threw her
head back and screamed, spasming and shaking, thrashing on the bed, before
collapsing into a barely conscious heap.
When she finally pieced her wits
back together enough to make sense of her surroundings, she was alone in a dark
room, naked on the bed, a cooling puddle staining the sheets between her legs.
I am in so much trouble, she