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Shattered	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 8001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter Ten – Deathspeaker Vance Dixon
Vance studied the unconscious elf lying naked in front of his fire. Ramona, the banshee healer, had once again restored his porcelain-like doll face and skin. His blonde hair shimmered in the firelight; it had taken Vance some time to wash and comb the locks out while Nathaniel was out cold. The elf’s mouth parted in slumber and Vance shuddered. He knew now exactly how those soft lips felt around his hardness. He must have fucked that mouth a half-dozen times last night and it was always willing for more.   The necromancer frowned. Damn it, he didn’t want willing! He wanted the slut to fight every moment until he finally realized there was no escape and shatter completely, surrendering his soul to his Master. What had that woman done to him? Taking out the manacle he had procured from the dungeons he slid it around the slender neck locking it into place. The other end he secured around the iron grate of the hearth. The links were long enough to let his pet keep sleeping but short enough if he awoke before Vance’s returned he couldn’t use it to strangle himself, though he doubted the mindless slut would even think of such a thing.
He let his anger stew the walk down to the dungeons; the aura which surrounded him darkened with every step, even the mindless ghouls silenced their cry for brains as he passed by. When he reached the cell that held the woman he was surprised to find it empty, and glared at the unlucky guard standing nearby. “Where is she?” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“She was chosen, Deathspeaker,” the man said with squeak.
“Chosen?” Vance growled a spell cast shattered the bricks beside the guard. “By who?”
“The Dark Master himself,” the guard replied.
Prudence returned and his anger ebbed, that was one man he could not oppose or his life would be forfeit faster than Nathaniel went down on him now. “Where is she now?”
“He’s making her soul scream,” the man replied, seeming to sense the danger had passed he stood a little taller.
“Another banshee, think he’d learn with Sylvanas,” Vance turned and went back the way he had come.   As he approached the chamber he paused at the closed the door. A horrific scream followed by sobbing came from within and he smiled to himself. The Lich King loved to draw out the agony of the women he chose to make into his ghostly harem. As if eternal torment wasn’t torture enough. His interrogation would have to wait; the Master did not like being interrupted during the ritual. He just hoped her new form kept enough of her old memories to answer his questions.
On his walk back to his room he paused at his study to collect his research papers to take with him to Naxxramas.   As Vance was stacking up his journals, on the desk, a cool hand traced down his neck startling him and he whipped around. “You looked better with hair, my slut.”
Vance frowned at the man standing way to close. “You’re far from Scholomance, Darkmaster Gandling, aren’t there students needing your attention?”
“I came for a visit,” the older man said, “heard you’ve earned a promotion. You were always good at making your way up the ranks.   Graduated at the top of your class at the school. Oh, you were so good at securing top grades. How many nights did you spend bent over my desk? What happened to those long ebony locks of yours? You loved it when I pulled on them when I was buried hilt deep in your ass.”
“I shaved it off,” Vance growled taking a step back. “I am no man’s slut anymore! What I’ve earned here of done on my own merits.”
The Darkmaster closed the distance with the speed of a serpent and Vance flinched. The cruel man grabbed his jaw with one hand and his crotch with the other, easily finding the hardness beneath the robe. “Still a liar I see,” Gandling hissed. “I remember the day I caught you jacking off in the shadows! I thought you were peeping on some girl … but no, it was your roommate!”
Vance remembered that day as well. Gerald was a slim boy with blonde hair he kept shoulder length. That hadn’t been the first day he’d lurked in the shadows as the younger boy showered.   Envisioning a certain elf he would pleasure himself as the other washed. Then the Darkmaster had found him, and his world changed once more.   In fear of being revealed, he’d agreed to become the Headmaster’s slut. His remaining years had been spent between studying with a cock in his ass or mouth. Though in the end everyone knew … he was sure of it.
The hand started to massage him through his robe and he cursed as his body reacted. Cold lips pressed down on his and when he was slow to open the grip on his cock tightened and remained that way as his old Master slid his tongue into his mouth. They were both sweating as the kiss broke. “I think I’ll send you to our old master smelling of my seed, it will be like old times.”
Vance’s mind screamed to oppose him but his body had spent too many years obeying. Soon he found himself naked across his own desk with Gandling’s hardness buried deep inside him. At the same time his old Headmaster stroked Vance’s cock, keeping him hard. “Such the slut enjoying every minute … how many cocks have you had since mine?”
“None,” Vance growled.
“Liar,” the hand left his throbbing cock and grabbed his balls tightening around them. “How many cocks have you sucked, my slut?”
“None,” Vance said again as a shudder of pleasure rippled through him.
“Heard you have a slut of your own,” Gandling said, “is his ass as tight as yours? I think I’ll want to test it out before I leave …”
“You will not fucking touch him,” Vance growled, “his ass is mine.”
“Oh, my! Defiant little slut! Power has spoiled you. I think you need a refresher course on who is top dog.”
“I am a Deathspeaker of the Dark Master,” Vance said, “chosen by him.” The rest of his rebuttal was cut off as his body betrayed him and he sprayed the floor with his release. The one fucking him said nothing but laughed darkly as he moved both hands to Vance’s hips and started slamming into him hard, banging his spent cock into the corner of his desk.
“You always were a hair-trigger, slut,” Gandling said, “let me show you how a man fucks a whore.” By the time his old teacher was finished, Vance’s hips and cock were black and blue with bruises and he had cum twice more. A cool hand patted his ass as he remained bent across the desk. “Get dressed and bring me to this toy of yours. If you’re good, I’ll let you watch as I fuck him.”
Almost in a trance Vance reached for his robe, his Deathspeaker robe …given to him by Kel'Thuzad himself. His pale fingers gripped the dark cloth. He was a servant of the Dark Master, he had passed all the trials, he wasn’t a pupil … he didn’t have to take this!
He embraced the sinister power which suddenly ignited within him and channeled it toward the old man that was calmly adjusting his own clothing. The first spell caught his old teacher by surprise. As he fell against the wall Vance cast a second energy bolt This one was absorbed by a hastily cast shadow shield.
“You dare strike me!” Darkmaster Gandling growled, as he made ready to cast his rebuttal.
Vance silenced his magic with a simple spell. “I dare to strike you,” he said coldly. “I dare to cut off your cock and stuff it up your ass and then slit your throat and feed you to the ghouls … oh, I most certainly dare.”
The battle that followed was short and vicious. When he finished, Vance walked over the corpse of his old teacher and brushed the blood splatters from his papers. He sighed at the dead man, as much as he wanted to carry through with his final threat the man’s life was not his to forfeit completely. He’d have to send body away and see if it could be resurrected, perhaps he’d have Gandling’s prick bronzed and returned to him in a velvet box. That man’s days of fucking his students were over. If Vance was lucky perhaps the Headmaster would be judged unworthy of continued life and left to rot. There was no concern of retribution; Gandling was too pompous to admit to anyone that he had been bested by a mere student.   And the way he was slobbering at the end, too much of a coward to do anything himself.   Vance smiled, that yoke was finally off his shoulders.   He kicked the corpse on the way out of the room with his research under his arm. “You’ve lost teeth, old teacher; I do not fear you anymore.”
Walking into his room he found Nathaniel as he left him, sleeping. Slipping out of his robe he stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away the scent and deeds of earlier. Taking a bottle from the shelf he gingerly smeared it on his bruised groin. Almost instantly the pain started to fade, as he continued to rub the purple bruises faded and by the time he finished rinsing they had disappeared completely. Stepping out of the shower he wrapped a plush towel around his waist. His slut was awake looking disheveled from sleep, regarding him with those doe eyes through long blonde hair that had fallen across his face. One of the elf’s hands was tracing the collar around his neck.
“Like your new jewelry, pet?” Vance asked as he walked over to the wardrobe. He loved watching Nathaniel’s face as he struggled to find words that wouldn’t anger him.
“Thank you, Master,” Nathaniel finally whispered.
“For what?” Vance asked coolly.
The look of panic was remarkable and the necromancer had to force his face remain a mask of indifference.
“For the collar,” Nathaniel finally squeaked, sounding very much like the mouse he was.
“For chaining you to the hearth? Treating you like the dog you are? Would you like me to have a leash fashioned for you so you can walk the halls on all fours beside me like a good obedient bitch?”
Nathaniel looked stricken but then the fear left the face and the eyes lowered. “If it would please, my Master,” he said, defeated.
Frowning Vance walked over to the cowered elf, reaching down he jerked the chin of the other up harshly so their gaze met. The vacant look from last night had returned to the sapphire eyes. “Interesting, you were there for a moment … wonder if the Master is done with that woman yet. I need answers.” The towel around his waist slipped off and pooled around his feet, a hunger came into those eyes. “All that cock sucking last night and you can’t wait to have it again, can you?”
A blush rose on the pale cheeks. “Please, Master?”
“Not right now,” Vance smirked at the crestfallen look as he walked away. “We play on my schedule, not yours. And mine is busy at this moment, do you need to piss before I leave?” He pulled a fresh robe from his wardrobe.
“Yes, Master,” Nathaniel whispered. Draping the robe over his arm, he walked over to the elf and freed the chain from the grate, letting it dangle free down the bent back. “Go, then,” he said.
The slut scurried to the toilet and this time there was no pause in his use of it. Afterwards Vance went to secure him back to the grate but thought better of it. His time with the elf was short, no reason to leave him alone. Instead he pulled a dress from his wardrobe; this one was a soft pink, with short sleeves and a small petticoat underneath it. Without being asked Nathaniel stood and let the dress slip over his head. Vance walked behind him and buttoned up the back, taking a moment to remove the chain but leaving the collar on. He fingered combed the tussled hair. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you, Master,” Nathaniel answered. Just then the elf’s stomach rumbled.
“Behave for me and I’ll feed you when we get back,” Vance said slipping his arm under Nathaniel’s and walking him toward the door. The elf saw their direction and he froze. “It’s okay, my pet,” Vance said, “you’re with me and remember my promise, no harm will come to you.”
The walk through the dark halls was considerably more delightful with the elf clinging tightly to his arm.   You could smell his fear as they walked past the armored death knights and robed acolytes. As for the others they gave the elf little notice, the necropolis was abuzz with activity.   The Deathspeaker made a note to see what was up, later … for now he had his own personal agenda.   Nathaniel shuddered as they entered the halls that housed the banshees, their cries echoed through the passages. “Their screams hurt those ears, my pet?”
The expected brief moment of hesitancy crossed the elf’s face before he nodded, “Yes, Master.”
Vance reached over and placed a hand on either ear and chanted, Nathaniel’s world became silent and terror shown in his sapphire eyes. Vance smirked and continued down the hall, for a step or two he had to practically drag the bewildered elf before he fell obediently in step beside him once again. An occasional shake of the head was the only sign of distress from his pet. They finally came to a large room; there was a collection of banshees hovering near their latest convert. One of them floated over to the Deathspeaker and attempted to stop him. “We have not finished the dressing of the soul cloth,” she said.
“I’ll talk to the wench naked then,” Vance growled.
“Her mind is still shattered from the rendering ceremony,” the annoyance said, keeping between him and the others.
“Wench, you are a moment away from experiencing your second and final death,” he growled menacingly, already calling on the dark energy. The phantom vanished before him without another word. With a smirk he continued to the group, and they parted.   In the center of the group stood the spirit once known as Deni, her luxurious hair had turned white under the trauma of separating soul from body. Like all banshees her face was drawn back, frozen in the final moments before death.   Her talon like fingers played with the translucent fabric she now wore.
“Do you know who I am wench?” Vance demanded.
Vacant eyes found his and for a long moment silenced was all that passed between them. Finally the dead woman whispered, “Deathspeaker …”
“That’s right,” Vance said, he gestured at the trembling elf clinging to his arm. “And this one?” This time the silence seemed to stretch for an eternity, finally broken by the maniacal laughter from the banshee. “Who is he?” Vance demanded again.
“He is what you are,” the woman finally replied.
Vance frowned at the nonsense words. “He is no Deathspeaker …”
“You wanted a slut,” the banshee said, “there is only one slut in this room and it isn’t the elf at your side.” The anger in the Deathspeaker flared and the robes of the newly anointed banshee caught aflame. The ghost seemed little interest in her dilemma, continuing to cackle. “I knew … I knew what you wanted so I took it from you, just like you took my life from me. You can have his body but his soul will forever be out of your reach.” The last sentence was extraordinarily calm as the burning fabric fell from her ghostly body, revealing seeping bleeding wounds … all the bite marks he had marred her flesh with in life were now ghastly lesions in death.
“What did you do?” Vance demanded.
“I locked his soul away,” the banshee replied.
“If there is lock then there must be a key, tell me what it is …”
“Or my second death will be my final,” the banshee replied with a smirk, her fangs showing through her lips. “Your threat holds no power over me, Deathspeaker. But I will tell you anyway just to show you how hopeless your desires are. You want his soul? Then all you have to do is get a Death Knight to love.” With that proclamation she dissipated before him, her laugh echoing through the hall and picked up by the other ghostly sisters.
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Shattered