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The day turned out most unexpected for Foxglove.
After so much time spent away from the city, the tiefling had almost forgotten that there were never any dull moments in the company of his sassy bard Baldurian friends; and upon Foxglove’s return from abroad, the boistrous bunch celebrated his arrival by influencing a group of jovial patriars to invite him to the coronation of the Archduke of Baldur’s Gate.
Sitting among the attendants, Foxglove could not help but admire the imposing presence of the soon-to-be Archduke as he watched him swear his loyalty to the City. Enver Gortash knew well how to position himself in the spotlight: his long black coat with shiny golden ornaments, the intricate accessories on his clothes, and his perfectly spruce leather boots with red embellishments contrasting with his disheveled hair - showed the man to have a strong, and unique personality. Foxglove barely heard him swearing his new role with a measured voice; as he could not help but feel enticed by the eccentric Lord’s commanding mannerisms; his mind wandered, thinking how amazing it would be to be dominated by a man like him.
As Gortash had finished his speech, he scrutinized the audience; Foxglove felt a shiver down his spine when their eyes inevitably met, noticing an undecipherable flicker within the newly-appointed Archduke’s obsidian gaze.
After the ceremony, Foxglove followed the group of patriars to a party; where the hosts assured it was not short of ample food and booze. After all the mingling which prompted drink invitations and toasts, the tiefling ended up quite tipsy. It was late at night when he decided to return to the camp; vision blurred as he staggered through the silent streets. Before Foxglove could realize, two masked men in dark cloaks surrounded and seized him, pressing a blade below his chin. The tiefling was too woozy to offer any kind of resistance.
“Our Lord wishes to speak to you. You will live today as per his request, but say a word and he might change his mind,” one of the men threatened, with a hoarse voice.
Once blindfolded and handcuffed, the men began dragging him somewhere. After what felt like an eternity being clumsily guided by his captors, the men left Foxglove in a room with a stone floor.
“Don’t try anything,” the gruff man warned, “ Just one order from our Lord, and it will be the last thing you will do.”
“Good job Faithful, you are dismissed for now,” said an authoritative voice.
“We will be outside if you need us, my Lord,” the same man who spoke earlier answered, and Foxglove could hear footsteps moving away before the stone door shut behind them. After that, there was a moment of silence, until a rhythmic metallic clink resonated on the stone floor.
“What have we here… the prism bearer, who now also carries Ketheric’s netherstone.“ Gortash drawled ”A pity we could not give you the welcome that you deserved,” Gortash removed the cloth that covered Foxglove’s eyes with an effortless flourish from the tip of his cane, “But did you think for a moment that I wouldn’t notice you entering my city? I knew it was you the moment I saw you at the ceremony.”
When the tyrant studied the audience at his inauguration, Foxglove’s unexpected presence had caught his attention; he had been captivated by the tiefling’s shining demonic red eyes; which brought back painful memories about his former Bhaalspawn ally.
He was curious to take a closer look, and now that he had lifted his chin with the tip of his cane, he relished the sight: his exotic lilac skin, his black and purplish hair, his facial and neck tattoos… as Gortash examined all his features, he thought that he was well-favored.
Foxglove blushed at the sight of Lord Gortash -the Archduke of Baldur’s Gate, standing in front of him, one hand on the cane pressed against Foxglove’s chin, and the other holding a goblet; the dim light of his chambers highlighting the menacing look in his eyes.
“Hand me the netherstone,” Gortash demanded “or the consequences are yours to bear.”
“Of which consequences are we speaking about?” Foxglove chuckled, his tongue loose as an effect of the booze. But after he realized Gortash was looking daggers at him, the tiefling looked down, intimidated by the aura of dominance emanating from the tyrant.
“I-I don’t have it with me” Foxglove swallowed dryly, “But I don't mean to oppose you. I would gladly get it and give it to you, if that's what you wish.”
“Hm…” Gortash paced back and forth before him, the snap of the cane against the floor concurring with his footsteps, “That's rather unanticipated…” He stopped to study him again as he pondered. He struggled to prevent the memories of his beloved Bhaalspawn from creeping into his mind. His former ally, had fallen in disgrace three tendays ago, as Orin derisively informed him. Gortash had not been able to lay with anyone else since his last time with the dragonborn. He thought that the man in front of him could help alleviate his frustration. “Perhaps… we could be good for each other.” Gortash mumbled “But first I would need you to prove your loyalty, I would be most disappointed if you were attempting to deceive me,” he added with a sly smile.
“W-whatever you wish, sir,” the tiefling stuttered timidly.
“You will show respect and refer to me as Lord Gortash,” He answered with a grimace of disgust, “kneel”. His gauntleted finger pointed to the floor, the gold of his gauntlet fleetingly coated with a scarlet glimmer.
Foxglove felt his knees faltering, not being able to carry his weight anymore. He could not control them as they sinked until they reached the floor, under the effect of the commanding spell.
With his dark gaze still set on the tiefling, Gortash spilled the content of the goblet on his boots.
He didn't need to give any order. Foxglove, captivated by a will to please the man standing over him, crawled on the floor until he reached the tyrant's feet to lick the well-kept leather of his ornamented boots. The taste of pure leather turned him on, causing him to feel light-headed due to the ecstasy building in him. The tiefling took no time in licking both boots clean, eyes shut as he focused on the task.
Taken aback by the eagerness of the tiefling, Gortash’s smile froze; feeling his own arousal as he watched the skilled and delicate caresses of Foxglove’s tongue on his boots.
“I would do anything to prove my loyalty to you, Lord Gortash,” Foxglove mewled enthusiastically, lust running through his veins. He felt brave enough to look at the tyrant directly in his eyes.
“I’m pleasantly surprised by your compliance,” Gortash praised the tiefling, eyeing the bulge in his pants “let’s see how far you can go,” he added leaning his cane against the desk, loosening the fastenings of his pants and underwear.
Nodding as he leant his cuffed hands against the tyrant’s thighs, the tiefling engulfed Gortash’s length in wet heat.
As he felt the delicious pressure around him, Gortash groaned and grabbed Foxglove’s hair and horns. His eyes shut as the touch of the tiefling's horns made him remember his former partner, the memory making him clutch Foxglove's face against his hips, rolling at an increasing pace.
After a few ardent moments in which Foxglove headily swirled his tongue around the tyrant's cock, only the sloppy sounds and Gortash’s groans echoed through the room.
“Get on your feet,” Gortash suddenly ordered, pushing him away from him with his gauntleted hand.
As the tiefling obeyed, Gortash pinned the man's chest against the surface of the ornamented desk in his office, his cuffed hands spread on it.
Gortash reached into one of the drawers and retrieved a tiny bottle of scented oil. Spreading some of the content on his hands; he positioned himself behind Foxglove and skillfully worked him open, slowly massaging him, prompting the tiefling to start moaning with a flush on his cheeks. The tyrant inserted a second and a third finger as he noticed Foxglove’s positive response to his touch, burying himself in Gortash's hand while whimpering needily.
When the tiefling’s entrance had adapted to him, the tyrant first pressed the tip of his cock against Foxglove’s entrance and then buried himself in him with a groan.
Foxglove took a moment to adapt to his length, but the bliss and the arousal he felt quickly rendered him breathless; his knees shaky. With a few of the tyrant's thrusts, he started pulling his hips down harder. Foxglove heard Gortash’s breath sharpening, his groans getting louder. The tiefling glanced behind him and felt his whole body flush with arousal, fascinated at the sight of the tyrant with his head tilted back in pleasure, a slight blush on his cheeks, how his thigh muscles flexed as he pounded inside Foxglove. He couldn't help moaning louder as the tyrant's rhythm increased, feeling dazed at the thought of giving him pleasure.
Responding to the tiefling's moans, Gortash firmly took his tail and pulled it, coaxing a loud groan from him. Foxglove's eyes fluttered and he arched his back as waves of pleasure invaded his body. Gortash increased the pace, pounding relentlessly against Foxglove’s hips. Feeling the tiefling clenching around him as he massaged his perineum with his other hand, Gortash's vision faded to black as he reached his peak.
Foxglove felt the tyrant’s length pulsing while he released inside him, groaning noisily. Just when the tiefling was starting to feel that he was reaching his own release, Gortash suddenly withdrew from him, causing Foxglove to whimper in frustration.
“That’s enough,” Gortash said, gasping for air.
“P-please my Lord…” Foxglove begged, his arousal throbbing in pain, aching for release.
“No,” Gortash grunted. As he recovered his breath, he put his gauntleted hand around the tiefling’s throat, approaching his ear to whisper “Bring me Orin’s netherstone. Only then you will have proven your loyalty, and deserve to be rewarded.” Gortash separated from him and pulled his pants and underwear up again, “Now get out of my sight, and don’t you dare to come back until you have the stone,” he snarled, pushing the tiefling towards the door.
Once outside of Gortash’s office, Foxglove took a few deep breaths to try to distract himself, overwhelmed by the unsated arousal; his head spinning while trying to process what had just happened to him. The tiefling had a new order to comply, and some explaining to do to his companions.
Gortash felt angered as he found himself wishing to see the tiefling again, thinking that he should have probably asked his name.