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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six– Deathspeaker Vance Dixon
Vance frowned as he glanced down at the scrying crystal around his neck. It had been ten minutes since he noticed his prisoner was no longer within the crystal’s sight. Prior to that he had been helping Master Noth with his latest experiment, the corpse of the male troll they had tested it on was already in the last moments of decay. Of course, the troll hadn’t started out as a corpse. Noth was mumbling under his breath and making notes in a book he held.
The scowl deepened as the crystal remained focused on an empty space. On one hand, he had promised the slut much pain if he disobeyed him but on the other hand it was obvious the elf had reached his breaking point. If he pushed any harder his pet would lose his mind and the fun would be over. Perhaps it was time to switch from vinegar to honey. The ring around his neck suddenly became very cold; he hadn’t noticed the warmth it possessed until it faded.
He looked at the crystal once more and a thought occurred, the slut wouldn’t have … he voiced a quick apology to the aged necromancer who was still busy scribbling in his book and was given a curt nod of dismissal. Racing out the door and down the hall, Vance ignored all the stares his haste was earning. If the elf thought he would escape his chains by suicide he was going to be sorely disappointed, death was a gift to be given in this place.
Foster was still standing guard outside his door. Vance had heard from the murmurings of how much the Death Knight detested his duties, missing out of the slaughtering of the Scarlet Crusade in New Avalon.   The Deathspeaker allowed himself a small grin; there was little grief he could bring the eldest Conway brother after he had been chosen as one of the Master’s Death Knights. Even the smallest distress for his old foe was a welcomed one. “Useless, oaf,” he growled storming past and into his room.
Nathaniel lay crumbled on the floor; a large crimson halo surrounded the still form. “Go fetch a healer,” Vance barked to the Death Knight that followed him inside. For a moment a look crossed Foster’s death marked face, if the necromancer hadn’t known better, he could have sworn it was sadness.
“Right away, Sir,” Foster replied with a slight bow as he hurried out the door, his face one again a mask of annoyance.
Vance knelt down; Nathaniel’s flesh was a cold as a corpse. He pulled up both sleeves the wrists were untouched, the blood wasn’t coming from there. The elegant neck was also untouched, where had the slut wounded himself? The dress was a loss so he had no qualms as he reached around the still form and ripped the buttons down the back. Pulling the now torn bodice down he saw the chest was also unmarked.    Only after he pulled the dress off fully did he see the blood stained legs and thighs. It took a moment longer to figure out what had caused the wound and as he removed the large dildo he had inserted earlier a gush of blood escaped.
“I told you, your toy wouldn’t last long,” the banshee, Ramona, said as she floated into the room.
“It’s not my fault my pet found his box of playthings while I was out of the room,” Vance lied as he set the bloodied toy on top of the ruined dress scraps. “Faggot was enjoying every minute of it, look at that smile …” Vance frowned. “Wake him up,” he growled.
“He’s almost beyond my abilities,” the healer hissed, “I wake him before he’s healed and you may lose him.”
“Wake him,” Vance ordered, “he will not part this world with a smile, he will die screaming in anguish when I deem it.” Nathaniel’s eyes fluttered open and Vance drunk in the absolute look of despair that crossed the pale face. “Was the Light’s embrace warm, slut? Present,” he growled.
Nathaniel struggled to roll over and it took another long moment for the bloody ass to slowly lift up. “Where is your toy, slut?”
A sob escaped from the prostrating elf and then he collapsed unconscious. Vance nodded to himself. “Better,” he said standing. “Heal him; you can leave him to his nightmares when you are done.”
That evening from his chair Vance studied the pale form sleeping on the ground. A thick comforter had been wrapped around the elf, so only his head could be seen. Nathaniel’s blonde locks spilled out around the porcelain face. It had been touch and go most of the day; it wasn’t only the matter of healing. Nathaniel’s soul had not wanted to remain in this world. However, a simple soulstone fixed that issue until the body was strong enough to fight for itself against the wishes of its owner.    Now soul and body were one and sleeping. Wounds had been healed but the loss of blood would take longer to recover from. Nathaniel once again wore the Sunwell ring, his body too weak to be without it. The eyes of the other fluttered opened to his surprise and the cobalt eyes glanced around anxiously before focusing on him. Devouring the fear in the gaze for a moment, Vance knelt down and ran a hand down the cool cheek of the other.
“Welcome back, pet,” he said softly. “You’ve had a rough day. I didn’t expect you to awake yet.   I have orders to get some food into you; if you’re up to it, I have some cooled broth here.” The tears started then, cascading down the ashen cheeks. Gently lifting the elf, quilt and all, Vance sat down with Nathaniel on his lap. “Shush,” he said as he kissed away the salty tears. “It’s okay now.” He ran a hand down the corn silk hair as he rocked back and forth. The steady breathing a short time later told him the elf had fallen asleep or unconscious once more.   He adjusted himself so he could study Nathaniel’s face for a long moment, then he slowly started kissing it. Starting with the temples he kissed his way around the angelic face. After kissing and licking the cheeks of their salty tears he moved to the tempting lips. At first he just planted a couple of chaste kisses and with a deep growl he whispered, “Open.” To his pleasure the lips parted, even though he was unconscious his pet strived to please his Master. With a sigh he plunged his tongue into the warm mouth of the elf.
It would have been better to have Nathaniel’s tongue dance with his own but he ravaged the mouth hungrily, before biting the bottom lip gently and moving his kisses down the slender neck. His cock screamed to be free of his leggings. With a wicked grin he adjusted the elf so he could reach down and slip the throbbing flesh free of the clothing. Shifting the oblivious man in his arms he made so the elf’s bare ass pressed against his cock.   The contact of flesh against flesh made Vance moan aloud.   He wasn’t quite ready violate the elf like he wanted. No, he wanted Nathaniel awake and watching when slammed himself into that tight hole of his. But this … he rocked back and forth, his cock sliding between the cheeks of Nathaniel’s ass … this would do. He went back to plundering the mouth of the elf as he pleasured himself. He was near his climax when he noticed the first signs Nathaniel was waking. He gripped the blonde hair of the other tightly to prevent him from breaking the kiss. And increased the pace of his rocking, his hardness chafing against the ass of the elf, but he didn’t care. Finally the warmth exploded from him and he shuddered; never before had he had such a release.   He moaned loudly into Nathaniel’s mouth as he came and only after the last tremble stopped did he break the touch and sit back.
The lips of the elf were swollen from his treatment, confusion was written all over Nathaniel’s face. The slut had no idea what had just happened, Vance thought with a smirk. “Oh my beautiful pet,” he cooed, “soon … soon I’ll teach you such wonderful things.   My lessons have all been painful ones thus far; it is time to share some more pleasurable ones. Though for now, we need to build your strength back up.” Reaching around the traumatized elf Vance picked up the mug of cooled broth and brought it to Nathaniel’s lips. “Open,” he said.
The dazed look remained on the elf’s face as the mouth remained closed. Holding his annoyance in check Vance kissed the pale temple. “Open,” he said again allowing a touch of irritation into his voice.
The elf startled and the lips parted allowing him to pour a spoonful inside. Nathaniel swallowed and a soft sigh escaped, the flavorful broth seemed to agree with his pet. The necromancer kissed the trembling lips. Vance repeated the series of commands until the mug was drained. Setting the cup down he adjusted the elf, his spent cock was still out and the stickiness of his release could be felt between their flesh. “You barely weigh anything,” Vance said softly, running a hand down the blanket covered back. “Go back asleep now; recover for your Master so your true servitude can begin.”
Nathaniel sobbed in earnest his slender fingers curled into a fist and struck Vance in the chest, there was no force behind the blow. “Kill me,” the elf whispered. “Please, I can’t do this … take whatever you want for me and end it. You win, Vance, whatever twisted game you are playing.   I saw my sister today, Janice; she died during the time of the Culling. She was there, it was warm and safe and you brought me back to this hell. I’m losing my fucking mind …”
Vance held his rage from the insolence spewing from the slut’s mouth as he shed the blanket and tossed it on the ground.   Taking the now naked elf he twisted him so Nathaniel sat on his lap facing him, his legs on either side of his lap, kneeling on the chair. “Look at me,” he commanded. The eyes darted up and focused on a spot over his left shoulder. “Look at me,” he growled again.
The sapphire eyes focused on his, the pain reflected there was exquisite, tempering his anger. “Who owns you, slut?”
“You do … Master,” the last word was added with a sigh.
“Who decides when and how you will die?” Vance said holding the gaze.
“You … Master,” tears cascaded down the pale cheeks.
“That’s right,” Vance said brushing the tears away with his thumbs as he cupped the elfin face. “And I am not done with you, MY slut, not by a long shot.” The necromancer made a show of sighing heavily and rubbing a hand across his face. “I was going to let you sleep in warmth but you’ve earned my ire.” He gestured to the far corner of the room, away from the fire. “That is your bed to recover in, you are dismissed.”
He had to give the traumatized elf credit; he managed to make it the indicated corner without falling and sunk to the ground with a sob.
“Sleep or pass out slut,” Vance growled as he disrobed. “Whatever you do, shut the fuck up.” Nathaniel curled up into a ball in the corner, completely naked there was nothing to protect him from the chill of the room. Vance sighed again. He was supposed to coddle the slut so he would heal but … his fingers curled into fists, the elf still had the audacity to ask for the gift of death.   Oh no, there would be no clean death for the slut, only everlasting torment in the form of undeath servitude and only after he had completely shattered the elf beyond reason. And he had no doubt at the current rate of abuse that moment would happen a lot sooner than he would like. Picking up the discarded quilt he walked over to the elf. Nathaniel tensed at his approach. Without saying a word he tossed the heavy comforter over the pale elf and walked back to his own bed. Let the elf’s sanity ponder that move for a while, he thought with a small grin as he blew out the bedside lamp leaving only the soft glow from the dying fire.
He awoke to muted sounds that took a moment to register. Opening his eyes slightly he watched as Nathaniel opened the door to the room and glance out into the hall. Just as Vance made ready to jump out of bed the elf shut the door and slid down it to sit at the threshold. Curious, he stayed in bed and watched. A few minutes later the elf’s head jerked up and he once again opened the door to claim the food tray that had been set outside. Vance smiled as the tray was brought over to the fire. He watched closely to make sure the slut didn’t pilfer any food off the plates. The meal was left untouched as Nathaniel moved to start the fire. Once the flames crackled to life, the elf started to move back to the corner where he had slept.
“Slut,” Vance hissed and the elf startled looking over at him alarmed. “What time is it?”
After a quick glance at the clock resting on the desk the whispered answer, “Five, Master,” was given.
“That is an entire hour earlier than I want to be awoken,” Vance said and fear flickered in the blue eyes of the elf. “However, you did do as I asked and any reprimand is excused. Tomorrow you may claim the meal as it is delivered afterwards you are to remain still until six and then you may start the fire. Afterwards kneel at the chair until I awaken on my own.”
“Yes, Master,” Nathaniel answered.
Vance studied the naked elf; he could easily count the ribs sticking out from malnourished torso. There were visible dark circles under his eyes and the face was gaunt.   He lifted up the edge of his heavy quilt. “Come here,” he ordered. “Lay with me until I rise.”
There was a long pause and just when Vance was ready to arise and retrieve the crop for the disobedience Nathaniel walked over and slipped under the blanket lying down next to him. He was rigid with fright. Slipping his arm under the elf he pulled him closer, lying Nathaniel’s head on his chest. “Relax, my pet,” he purred, “it’s just a nap… and I know you’re used to sleeping with other men.”
To his astonishment the elf did just that; the tension left and with a soft sigh his hand rested on Vance’s chest. The steady breathing a few minutes later revealed that Nathaniel had fallen back asleep. The astonished necromancer ran a hand down the back of the sleeping man, what game was the slut playing to go from fearful to calm in a moment? Was it a sign the elf was losing his mind or instead was the slut desperately trying to save his sanity? Appease his tormentor? Vance frowned and studied the angelic face inches from his own. The slut needed taken care of for the sake of his plans and the Deathspeaker of the Lich King did not do nurture. Under his hand the elf would break long before he had played out his plan.
His hand drummed on the pale flesh of the elf as he thought. Mothers were nurturing supposedly, his own had run off when he was a child leaving he and that bitch of a sister with their father to raise. His mood darkened at the thought of Wendy and he had to forcefully still his hand before he woke Nathaniel. At the thought of the elf he looked down at the tempted lips parted in sleep, the memory of their softness still on his own. An idea started to form in his head; it would mean more delays in his plans for the slut. But in the end it also meant his enjoyment extended. He had been too rough with his toy in his haste and pleasure of repaying old debts. It was time to backpedal and approach with gloved hands. He kissed the warm forehead of Nathaniel before he closed his eyes to rest a bit longer.   In a couple of hours he could begin the rebuilding of his broken toy, so he could shatter him all over again.
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Shattered