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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
- 8
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Chapter Nine – Nathaniel Conway
“Nathaniel … snap out of it …”
A sharp blow across his cheek brought him back to his senses and he looked over at Deni. “I can’t go back … please, help me …”
“What do you think I have been doing?” Deni said with a sigh, brushing his bangs back with her gloved fingers. “He wants a trophy for his arm, if you behave like I’ve been teaching you … it will be okay.”
“Even you don’t believe that,” Nathaniel said sadly. “Please! You’re a mage! Kill me! Burn me so there is nothing left but ash.”
Deni looked appalled and he put his face in his hands sobbing. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she said, “They have sealed my magic. You are a Sin’dorei, child of the blood, we never yield!”
“To what end?” Nathaniel shot back, “do you really dream of escape? Vance told me once he would shatter me; he came very close already it won’t take much before the ghouls in the pits are saner than me.”
“By the Sunwell, Nahoan, if it was in my powers to save you I would. You are so innocent, and yes that monster is going to feed off your purity like the black hearted San’layn feed from the blood of the living. I can’t save your body, but … I think I can save your soul.” She whispered the last part and glanced over at the viewing crystal on the table.
Nathaniel looked at her confused; she picked up his needlework and handed it to him. “He said …”
“I don’t really give a damn what he said,” she replied, her voice gaining strength. She walked back over to her chair. “Where I am standing now is out of sight of the Master’s eyes. I’ve slowly been moving the crystal a millimeter at a time to give us this haven. I know this is so because …” she took out a small crystal that hung on a chain around her neck. “I stole this from him a couple of weeks ago when he brought me to his room for … punishment. The man had dozens. I didn’t think he would miss one and I was right.”
Nathaniel was confused at both the confession and her intent. Watching her over his embroidery she set the small crystal down next the one scrutinizing everything thing they were doing.
“On the count of three I want you to join me, there is going to be a bright light so close your eyes and trust on your hunter skills. One … two … three!”
He closed his eyes on two and rushed to her side, behind eyelids he could see the flash of light. Gentle arms wrapped around him and he returned the hug, neither spoke for a moment. “Look,” Deni said finally. Glancing over he was surprised to himself working dutifully on his needlework. “The crystals not only record but can play back,” she explained, gesturing to the small stone now propped on the desk.   “Making me dress you in the same clothes and do the exact same thing every day, made this step easy, now for the hard part.”
“I trust you,” Nathaniel said, as he willed his heartbeat to slow down.
“They sealed my fire but not my mind,” she said, tracing his jaw with her fingers. He was surprised to feel them without gloves and leaned into the touch.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to seal your innocence and mind deep inside your head,” she said. “No man will ever be able to hurt you there.”
“Will I be lost forever?” Nathaniel said.
“Do you truly believe there is no hope?” Deni asked.
“I was born from hope,” Nathaniel said, “I have to believe …”
“When will you know you are safe?”
“When Foster says, ‘I love you, baby brother,’ …”
“The Death Knight?” Deni asked in disbelief.   She shook her head and smiled sadly. “Okay, Nahoan, when your brother loves again, your mind will be your own. For now I want you to look into my eyes and think of happier times.
Looking into her gaze he thought back to when he and Foster were children, as the daydream easily came to mind, he was surprised to see the irises in her eyes start to swirl, they were mesmerizing.
Angry shouting reached him through his daze, he shook he head trying to clear the buzzing. The enraged bellowing was from his Master; Nathaniel looked around the room confused. He was being restrained by a Death Knight, he’d never seen before. Unsure where he was or how he got there. Deathspeaker Vance was in middle of a lavishly furnished room screaming at a female Sin’dorei that looked vaguely familiar.
“You stupid, bitch, what in the hell do you think you were doing?” His Master screamed.
“You asked for a submissive slut,” the woman said calmly, “you gave me one day, I had to make sure you got what you wanted … my freedom depends on it.”
“You deceitful wench,” Master growled, “You stole my crystal … if I hadn’t noticed the missing bruise on my slut’s neck you would have gotten away with it.”
A ghost of smile crossed the woman’s face; one that quickly faded when Vance wrapped his hand around her neck and started squeezing. “Master!” Nathaniel cried, drawing the furious eyes to him.
“Your turn is coming, slut,” he growled, “I didn’t forget my pledge.”
“Nor did I,” Nathaniel said, “you inside me …” the one that held him chuckled darkly and his Master’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Please,” Nathaniel pleaded, “you promised …” the tears started then, he was afraid whatever had happened his Master would deny the vow given.
Puzzlement crossed his Master’s face as the woman was thrown aside and crashed hard into the wall, she fell to the floor without making a sound. Vance’s strong fingers gripped Nathaniel’s chin and he studied him for a long moment. Nathaniel licked his lips nervously; he could still feel the man’s kiss from yesterday. “You want me to fuck you?” Vance asked.
Nathaniel nodded, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
The woman started to cackle, it was hysterical manic laughter. “You wanted a slut, you got a slut … my job is done.”
“What has this woman done to you?” his Master shouted.
“I don’t know,” Nathaniel whispered, cowering away from the rage. “I’ve never met her before in my life.”
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His ass burned from the lashes of the crop, he was so mystified by the turn of events. What had enraged his Master so badly? Had that woman done something to him after all? He felt no different than he had … his memory was muddled if he tried to think about recent moments. The childhood in Darrowshire was there, the time in Silvermoon as a young adult, the Culling … the death of his brother, the first weeks of his hell here, then he had learned to stop the torture all he had to do was please his Master. That was all he wanted to do and he was being punished for it. Once returned to his Master’s room he had been ordered to present and left like that while Vance paced the room, taking his rage out on the ass before him. His choking sobs and apologies had annoyed and he was now forced to wear a gag to aid him in keeping quiet while his Master ranted. The hem of his dress was thrown up over his back and covered his head, so not only muted he was also blind. His desire to appease his Master was overwhelming and there was nothing he could do. A cool touch on his finger surprised him, it was a ring … his Sunwell Ring, when had it been returned? Another lash across his ass drew his attention back to Vance.
A cruel hand grabbed the back of his head and pulled into a kneeling position. There was a moment of vertigo as he focused on the hateful eyes of his Master. Cool fingers brushed his cheeks and the fury waivered. “Much better,” his Master said, “fear suits you, makes you desirable. I have a question for you, my slut.” The gag was untied and Nathaniel took a moment to stretch his jaw before closing his mouth and waiting for the man that towered over him to continue. “Just one … what is that woman to you? And no more lies or I’ll cut that pretty little tongue of yours out and feed it to you for dinner.”
Fear caused him to tremble, not from the promised punishment but because he knew he had no answer for his Master. The disappointment would be harsher than any retribution. He focused on the face he had seen only for a moment before she had been dragged away, still laughing. It was familiar as if a dream he had once.   The fire returned to his Master’s gaze and Nathaniel sobbed. “If I knew her, my Master, she took those memories and names from me … my head is cloudy.” He opened his mouth then so his Master wouldn’t have to ask.
When there was no forthcoming blade or magic cast, he risked a look up and saw his Master in thought. “Why would she erase her memory from your mind, but not the skills she taught … what game is she playing?” Vance glanced down and with a finger traced his open lips, before slipping it inside. “Clean it,” he instructed.
Nathaniel suckled the finger, using his tongue to massage it and heard his Master stifle a moan. The scent of musk was heavy in the air and the elf trembled, trying hard to focus on the simple task given. Eventually the finger was removed and dampness traced across his cheeks. “The bitch can wait,” Vance said huskily, “come my pet.”
He followed his Master over to the plush chair and knelt down on the pillow beside it. “Not there, between my legs,” Vance instructed and Nathaniel quickly moved. “Do you know what I want from you?” He asked as he undid his robe and let it open revealing the budging hardness beneath it.
Nathaniel gasped; it was bigger than he remembered. Licking his lips nervously he looked up at the other. “To give you pleasure with my mouth?” he asked hesitantly.
“That’s right my slut,” Vance said. “Keep your hands behind you; use nothing but your mouth and tongue. And remember do not swallow until I tell you too.”
The last command confused him but he knew what to do to start. Vance reached down and held his hardness as Nathaniel took a tentative lick across the seeping slit. The taste wasn’t terrible and he worked around the head of the cock using just his tongue. The hand holding the throbbing flesh titled it up and Nathaniel moved his tongue lower down the shaft, the scent of musk became stronger.   After working his way up and down a few times he went back to the tip which was now trickling heavily. With a sigh he opened his lips and took it into his mouth. Vance moaned and the hand moved from the cock to the back of Nathaniel’s head. He started out slowly taking just a little bit into his mouth as he bobbed his head up and down. With each downward thrust he let the slick flesh go deeper into his mouth. Soon he was contently bobbing up and down on the entire length with ease.
“I knew it,” Vance hissed. “By the Dark Master, I knew you were a faggot, look at the way you suck cock. It’s like it is the best tasting treat you ever had, and all you want is to get to the creamy middle. Well, my pet, I’ve waited a long time for this and your first taste won’t be long.” The hand on the back of his head tightened his grip and his Master pulled him off. Nathaniel let out a small sound of protest, as Vance’s hand wrapped around his spit covered cock and started to pump it. “Open!” he growled. Nathaniel’s lips parted and waited for the return of the heated flesh, instead something warm splattered onto his tongue. His Master rested the head of his cock inside his lips as it continued to squirt. The warning not to swallow came back and Nathaniel made sure to remain still even as he felt it start to dribble out of his mouth and down his chin. Eventually Vance pulled back. Nathaniel left his lips parted as his head was titled back. “A mouth filled with cum, what a beautiful little slut,” Vance said as he took his finger and captured some of the stickiness running down. “Swallow then lick my cock clean,” he said.
Hours later Nathaniel lay huddled in the shower, his naked body covered with the stickiness of his Master’s passion and the wounds of his fury. The room was dark; Vance passed out across his bed, the alcohol he had been drinking in droves had finally robbed his Master of his senses and stilled the crop and fists. Not even Nathaniel’s face had been spared from the rage-filled fits.   His left eye was completely swollen shut, his lips had been slapped and bit until he could no longer feel them, but the pain from his broken nose was undeniable and joined in the chorus of misery that robbed him from the ability to join his Master in oblivion. Every inch of his body had been abused in some form; even his most private parts hadn’t escaped. The useless flesh between his legs was bruised and swollen from his Master’s painful reminders of how hopeless he was to ever be a man like him. And the promise of having Vance inside him long forgotten, instead he had impaled himself on various toys and weapon hilts for his Master’s entertainment in vain hopes to appease. The last had been a large broadsword, still lying on the carpet, the hilt covered with dried blood … his blood. Though he no longer seemed to be bleeding from that wound there were plenty of others that stained the shower tiles crimson. He used the only unbroken finger left and ran it through a rivulet of blood. His hand marked from earlier abuse it was hard to tell the fresh from the old.
A moan from across the room drew his attention back to the bed and he waited. Eventually Vance sat up and ran a hand across his bald head. A moment later a thought seem to come to him and he looked up and met Nathaniel’s gaze. Confusion crossed the Necromancer’s face and he stood, swaying for a moment. “The dark arts and ale don’t mix,” moaned his Master. “I know better.” He moved closer to the shower stall and Nathaniel cowered back, knowing he must look hideous with his swollen face. The other swore as he knelt down and ran a hand down the elf’s battered cheek. The profanity continued as Vance walked across the room and opened the door. “Fetch the …” his Master’s voice faltered when he found the hall empty. “Fuck,” Vance sighed. He glanced over at Nathaniel. “I guess I don’t have to worry about you going anywhere do I? Can you even stand?”
Nathaniel nodded head, his grimy hair stuck to his face and neck. Using the wall to brace himself Nathaniel stood slowly, every fiber of his body hurting, as broken bones were forced to bear weight. Once upright he stood there shaking from the effort.
“Come here,” Vance ordered.
By the Sunwell he wanted to be able to obey that simple command but he knew the results before he tried, one step caused his legs to collapse and he crumbled to the ground once more with a scream. Not wanting to deny his Master, he went to crawl, but pulled his hand back when it left a bloody print on the plush carpet.
Vance sighed loudly and turned, stalking out of the room leaving Nathaniel alone in his pain and filth. There was little he could do about the hurt, but he reached up and turned the knob so icy water poured down on him, trying the best to rinse off the grunge. In the end all he could do was sit there letting the water wash over him. The cold deluge stopped suddenly startling him out of his stupor. His Master towered over him and Nathaniel let out a soft sob. The punishments from yesterday taught him to be silent unless spoken too, so he sat there waiting for Vance’s harsh retribution.
“Do your duty, wench,” his Master said as he stepped back and the banshee healer floated into view.
“Your toy has shattered quite nicely,” the ghostly woman said as icy finger traced down Nathaniel’s cheek. Under her painful touch cuts mended and bones healed. The elf screamed until Vance cast a spell that brought unconsciousness to him.
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Shattered