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[b][u][center]The Journey to Slavery

Part 4

For Lightsun168

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Arga was happy. For the first time since he’d seen Geel-Sei die, he was happy, and even thinking of that didn’t make him stop smiling.

The tiniest little voice in the back of his head told him that something was wrong, that he shouldn’t feel like this, but the voice was so quiet that he could ignore it with ease. Old hands gripped his hips, and delicate fingers parted his cheeks. A soft puff of warmth against his hole reminded him of what he was supposed to be waiting for, and he raised his tail that little bit higher, showing off for the elf behind him.

“That’s it. Good beast.”

“Mmmph…”

“Keep that up, that’s good…”

Hot.

Rigid.

Throbbing.

That was that the Dunmer shaft against his cheeks felt like. It slid up, kissed his hole, then slid back against his sac. Up, down, up, down, smearing slime against his scales, never stopping and never easing. His lips pulled back higher and tighter, and he smiled as the head pressed against his hole again.

“Mmmph…let me…make you happy…”

“Oh, you will…you will…”

It was a gentle pressure at first, but even that was not without discomfort. He felt his hole resisting, and he hated himself for it. How could he hold back for someone that needed to be this happy? He was supposed to make the elf happy. He needed to make the elf happy.

The Saxhleel pushed back, grinding his ass against the Dunmer’s shaft. The head pressed in a bit, the heat building, a bit of pain. He pushed back again –

POP!

It hurt. It hurt, but it also felt good. Two conflicting thoughts, one of which made it harder for him to feel happy, so he pushed it out of the way. He forgot about the pain and focused on the feeling of pleasure, of the elf-cock inside of him, of doing the right thing for the mage. A soft grunt came from behind, and he knew he was doing the right thing. His hole clenched, and the elf moaned.

“Mmmph. That’s it. You know what to do, beast. A rutting thing, you are.”

“Yes, sir. Rutting, rutting to make you happy.”

“Push back, beast. Push back and enjoy – mmmph…”

Arga did as he was told, slamming his cheeks back to meet the elf’s crotch. Another dull ache rippled out from his core, pain trying to come back, but he didn’t want to feel pain. He wanted to feel happy, horny, horny enough to make the elf happy. Be good, be happy, be empty-headed and a good toy.

So he forgot the pain. He forgot the burning, angry feeling around his hole as he pushed himself back and slid forward again. He forgot the ache in his middle and the worrying pain that was developing further in, and focused entirely on the weight of the gray cock rubbing against that little button inside of him. All that mattered was the pleasure, the throbbing between his legs, and the feeling of being of use.

Forward.

Back.

Forward.

Back.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Arga stopped thinking about himself and started thinking about the cock inside of him. It was so hard, so stiff, and he could feel it throbbing against his prostate every time that he slowed down and clenched around it. Gulan panted behind him, the older elf holding on for dear life as Arga rode his cock. He was doing a good job. He was making the elf feel happy, like he was supposed to, and that made him happy.

Clench. He felt it spurt inside of him. Pre-cum. Warm. Wet. Slimy. He liked that slimy feeling. He wondered how it would feel elsewhere, sliming his cock, his feet, making him.

Good Arga.

Good beast.

He rocked his hips back again, again, again, each time hearing the clap of scales to flesh and the soft ripple of his cheeks as they came together. The head of the elf’s cock kept raking at just the right angle to get him going, and he moaned as he oozed pre-cum all over the floor. Backward, forward, starting to pick up speed to take it further. He arched his back, his mouth hanging open as the elf grabbed him by the horns.

“Take it, beast. Take it all. Slutty little – mmmph – built for elf cock, that’s what you are!”

Arga didn’t say a word. He moaned as he was fucked, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. The pain kept trying to come back, but he kept pushing it away. Pleasure, pleasure, happy, happy, good times, happy times. Elf-cock was good, elf-cock made him feel good. Had to be good, had to be happy.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Gulan didn’t take long after that. The elf filled him to the brim, and Arga moaned, grinding down and squeezing along that shaft. The old mage reached around, grabbing the Saxhleel’s shaft.

“Ah…”

“Cum, you stupid beast. Cum while you’re in your proper place.”

Stroke, stroke –

“Nnngh…”

And he came on the third one, spilling his seed over the floor. He shivered, his scales feeling tingly, sensitive as his shaft throbbed, pulsing away as he kept cumming…and cumming…and cumming…

Days of seed spurted out of him as his hole swelled with the thick blasts of elf cum. He struggled to catch his breath, his eyes rolled back so far that they ached. Everything tingled, everything throbbed, and his balls kept churning away as Gulan jerked him off again, and again, and again.

Arga didn’t know how long he kept cumming, but when the elf finally took his hand away, his balls felt empty for the first time in weeks. The old elf grunted, huffing to himself, and Arga almost moaned in complaint as the elf pulled out –

Ting.

And then…

Then it was gone.

The happiness, the comfort, the pleasure, all [i]gone.[/i] The Charm spell ended, and the reality of what he had just done came crashing down with all the weight of a summer’s flood through the swamp.

Arga clenched up, every muscle in his body going tight. His stomach tried to leap up his throat and he barely kept the vomit down. His asshole clenched and spurted out strings of slime, oozing down over his taint and down his balls, dripping from them to the floor as a reminder of what had just happened to him.

The whole thing played back in his mind, feeding him what he had done. He’d [i]begged[/i] for that cock. Begged to be fucked, used, and made it even easier by riding the elf so that he didn’t have to work.

Worse, he’d [i]enjoyed[/i] it. His face still ached from how much he’d been smiling, and he could feel the pleasure turn to sickening disgust even as his afterglow tried to settle on him.

[i]I just…he just…[/i]

Was it rape when he wanted it so bad, even if he didn’t want it after?

Had he been raped?

Had he raped himself?

His stomach clenched again, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat before he could swallow it down again. Arga forced it back, one hand over his mouth as he desperately sucked the burning mess back down to his guts. No, no, if he threw up here, this was someone that might make him clean it up with his tongue and he couldn’t take that. If Gulan used that Charm spell again, he’d enjoy it and –

[i]No, no, no, no, no.[/i]

Didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to imagine what else the elf could make him do.

Horror.

Wrong.

Bad.

Bad.

Bad.

“Mmmm, now that is the look of a properly-used lizard,” Gulan said, chuckling as Arga curled into a ball. “Wet, dripping…perfect. I hope you enjoyed that, lizard, because that’s the last time that you will have any release until your owner decides you should do it again.”

“Nnngh…nnngh…”

“Stand up, lizard. We have more to do.”

“Please…”

“Mmmm, do I have to cast the spell again?”

For a split second, Arga almost wished the Dunmer would. It would take the responsibility away, it would make him forget again, it would make him happy. He’d go through it without a problem.

But it wouldn’t be him. And then he’d hate himself even more.

Fighting the constant gut-clenching, the Saxhleel slowly pushed his legs out again, getting to his feet step by miserable step. He got his legs under him, then stood up, wobbling from side to side as his guts bubbled and his scales shivered and tightened all along his body. His cock, thankfully, had gone back to being completely soft.

Gulan shook his head, the elf resting one hand on his hip as he looked the reptile up and down.

“You should be thanking me, you know. I could have made you hate that whole thing. Instead, I gave you peace.”

“…”

“Say thank you, lizard.”

“…Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Not particularly believable, but I’ll allow it,” Gulan said, turning around. “Now, where did I put that soul gem…”

Soul gem. That meant that this was going to be more than just a spell, but an enchantment. Arga wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to do [i]anything[/i] to slow down his inevitable descent to slavery. Everything that had happened so far was just a warm-up to the real thing, he realized; Lenam wasn’t using him, just transporting him, and everyone else was just treating him like an object that needed a few finishing touches.

Once he was given away, once he had a real owner, things would be worse. A hundred, thousand times worse.

[i]What can I do?![/i]

He couldn’t fight; even if he could kill Gulan, he couldn’t get through the pleasure club without attracting attention. Lenam would chase him down, and the shackles would slow him down anywhere he went. He was helpless without a weapon, without his magicka, without anything to fight back, and – and – and –

And then his time to resist was gone. Gulan was back, and he held a black soul gem in his hands. Arga’s eyes widened, almost dropping out of their sockets.

“That’s –”

“The soul of a dearly departed slave, yes,” Gulan said with a flippant tone. “Honestly, useless for the last few years of his life; at least he can go to use by keeping you under control.”

Arga was so shocked that he couldn’t say or do a damn thing as the elf reached down with the black gem. It was almost like a piece of chalk as he dragged the darkened gem across the red scales at the Saxhleel’s crotch, drawing the circle around his groin, followed by the spiraling designs that he had traced with his finger just before the rut.

He almost threw up at the thought, and only barely managed to keep his stomach under control.

The gem traced a line along the underside of his shaft, and Arga gritted his teeth as he felt the tingling of magic settling into his scales. It forced his cock harder and harder by the second, until it was pointing upright when the gem reached the head of his shaft. He clenched his hands together in front of him, the restraints pulled tight as the other runic designs of the spell continued to bloom into existence around his cock and balls.

There was nothing he could do to stop it, but he looked down in macabre interest. Where his scales were red, the spell was black; where his scales were black, the spell was red, and both of them somehow pulsed with the same crimson light, either in online or in themselves. The magic throbbed, making his balls churn again, and he could feel a new weight slowly settling into his testicles, pulling them down and making his sac look full once more.

“Almost done…”

Gulan dragged the gem in a second spiral, running from the head of Arga’s shaft right back down to the base. Once the gem touched the bottom of his shaft, the darkness disappeared, leaving the soul gem nothing more than a white piece of crystal.

Then the spell hit.

The Saxhleel almost fell to his knees at the sudden clenching pressure around his cock and balls. It was like invisible hands had grabbed hold of him, squeezing them, punishing them, taking control. He felt like his balls were being pulled down, and his cock dragged forward. Relentless squeezing, tugging, manipulating until it felt like he should have been seeing bruises appear before his very eyes.

It took no more than a minute, but it was a minute of torture. He wheezed, gasping for breath as the spell finally went quiet, his cock flopping down over his balls once more.

“And it’s done,” Gulan said. “Your master will be very happy with that.”

The elf muttered something, a word that Arga didn’t understand, then –

“Erect.”

His cock jerked upward, throbbing to life with a vengeance. He’d had aching erections before, but this was the first one that actually [i]hurt[/i] to throb to life. Arga buried his face in his hands, squeezing his mouth shut so he couldn’t scream.

“And soft.”

It fell down, the magic letting it loose and sending it back to sleep.

[i]It’s nothing…nothing but a toy for someone now,[/i] he thought, shivering as he brought his hands down from his face. [i]I can’t…They can control everything…make me do anything…[/i]

Were they going to take everything? The shackles had taken his mobility. The mark had taken his body. Were they going to Charm his brain right out of his head and take [i]everything[/i] from him?

“Come. Let’s get you back to Lenam. I’m sure that he’s eager to get back on the road.”

#

It was late at night when Arga made his decision.

He looked across the dying campfire at the dark elf. Lenam had been exhausted, eight knew why, and had dropped off to sleep almost immediately once the fire was down. Arga had remained awake for an hour after that, staring into space, unable to summon the shame to keep his legs closed anymore.

He’d been thinking. And now, he knew what he had to do.

[i]Escape.[/i]

It was his last chance. Tomorrow, they would be who knew where, and he’d be even further from the border. As it stood, he had almost no chance of getting home, but every successive day of travel took him further away from home, and more, further away from any chance of freedom. If he didn’t leave now, he never would.

He’d considered taking Lenam’s spear, but he didn’t trust himself to do it quietly. Much as he wanted to kill the elf, he doubted that he could do it. His hands had kept shaking ever since he’d left the pleasure house. Fear had kept him quiet, obedient.

He had to leave.

He had to run.

Slowly, the Saxhleel pushed himself to his feet. Each step was the most tentative, quiet step he had taken as he edged toward the limits of the campsite. He was just about to step outside of the firelight when he heard the same word that Gulan used – it was a non-word, a sound, like ‘beyan’, but he had no idea what it was – and then –

“Stop.”

Arga’s body refused to move. Frozen with one foot off the ground and the other dug into gray sand, he could not shift his weight at all. All he could do was stare into the distance and struggle against a body that did not want to obey.

“Come back.”

His body flared with warmth and magic and he was forced to obey. The sigils around his crotch continued to flare with light, too, showing him off and making him all the more obviously enchanted and ensorcelled.

Step.

Step.

Step.

He returned to the fireside, his feet planted on either side of the blaze, and the heat tickled along his calves, thighs, even the bottom of his balls from where he stood. Lenam slowly sat up, grabbing his spear in the process, and looked up at him.

“Did you really think you could run away?”

“…”

“Answer me.”

“…”

The spear flew, the smooth end catching him in the cheek. Arga tumbled to the ground, fire blooming in his cheek as he hit the earth. He groaned, rubbing his face as the elf got to his feet.

“Where is this defiance coming from, lizard? I thought that we had an understanding. You weren’t fighting this hard before.”

“Because I didn’t understand before,” Arga muttered, spitting out blood. “But now I do.”

“What – is this about what Gulan did?”

Penetration.

Mind rape.

Fucking.

Rutting.

Suppressing the panic and holding onto the anger, Arga slowly got back to his feet. Ignoring the urge to sweep his tail out and catch the elf in the back of the knee – not that it’d likely work – he turned to face his captor again.

“Well?” Lenam asked.

“I am not a lizard. I am not a beast. I am Saxhleel –”

The rest of his words hissed out with his breath as Lenam jammed the butt of the spear into his guts. Arga slumped forward, instinctively grabbing the weapon and holding tight. He gritted his teeth as he sucked for air, shaking his head.

“You are nothing but a slave. Do you want to be beaten into submission?”

“Better a beating…than accepting Charm.”

“That idiot – stand up.”

No. He was done. He was [i]finished.[/i] Arga gripped the spear tighter and made a decision. No more happy obedience. No more holding back.

Screaming, he pulled on the spear, and for once, Lenam made a mistake. He held on.

The elf went flying as Arga spun the spear around, throwing his captor to the ground. Gripping the end of it in the most awkward grip, he charged and stabbed –

He hit the ground, Lenam already rolling out of the way. Arga stumbled back, pulling the weapon with him. He couldn’t hold it properly, not with his hands so close together, but at least he could use the point to keep the slave-hunter at bay.

Every time that Lenam opened his mouth, Arga jabbed the spear forward. Every time that the elf looked like he was going to say the control-word, Arga tried to take his throat out. The stabs never connected, but they kept the hunter at a distance, and more, it kept him from being knocked to his knees with nothing but a command.

But the stalemate couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, one of them would make a mistake, and Arga knew that it was far more likely that he was going to be the one to make that mistake.

[i]Have to find an opening. Or make one.[/i]

They had circled back to the fire. It was almost dead. Lenam looked at the logs, and so did he. They had the same idea, or near enough.

The elf darted for the logs.

Arga kicked them…and put what was left of his magicka into it, adding fire to the dying embers.

What should have been nothing but coals was a stream of fire. Lenam pulled back, shocked past his resistance, and Arga lunged, eyes lidded against the embers in the air. He felt the blade catch flesh, and pushed. The sound filled the air, caught him, but the blow had landed.

The question was, was it enough?

Arga remained paralyzed by the word, standing with his hands at his side, the spear thrust forward halfway. A soft huff, huff, huff of breath turned into a grunt, followed by a squelch of blood and tissue. He heard a step, then another one –

“Release.”

It hadn’t been enough. Arga’s hands opened, the spear falling to the sand. The Saxhleel’s eyes watered, not from fire, but from grief.

[i]It wasn’t enough…too late…too late…[/i]

“Should have expected that,” Lenam muttered. “Idiot Gulan…Bad enough that he wanted to fuck you, but using Charm…No wonder your brain got scrambled.”

That wasn’t the reason at all, but if nothing else, Lenam made it clear that there was [i]no[/i] sympathy to be found with him. Or with any dark elf, Arga imagined. None of them could understand that it meant to turn someone else into a slave. None of them understood what it would do.

He couldn’t move, but he took solace in one thing, and one thing only. Lenam hadn’t noticed that he had used magic. His captor hadn’t realized that he still had that little bit of magicka left. Which meant that whoever Lenam sold him to wouldn’t know about that, either.

“Whatever’s wrong with you can be sorted out later.”

“Going to order me to sleep.”

“You’re not getting off that lightly.”

The first spear-blow caught him between the legs. The second hit his chest and took the breath from his lungs. The third, fourth, and fifth rained down on his head and sent him to oblivion.

#

It took three days to get to Verarchen, and another two once Lenam decided who the best buyer was to reach their settlement. Arga deliberately made as much of a pest of himself as he could, refusing to give in, refusing to cooperate in any way. Even if it left him bloody, bruised, battered, he was done being cooperative.

By the third day, Lenam had to start healing him. By the start of the fifth day, Lenam was tired of doing it.

“Are you broken?” the dark elf said, walking alongside as the guar dragged Arga across the muddy ground. “You were [i]fine[/i] until Gulan used you.”

Arga refused to answer. Maybe he was; at the very least, his hopes had been broken, and that was enough to keep him from going along with whatever the elves wanted. If they still wanted a slave from him, then they were going to have to do all the hard work. He was fucking [i]done.[/i]

Lenam grumbled, shaking his head as he picked up the pace and moved ahead of the guars again. Arga closed his eyes, thankful that they were at least going through the muck rather than the hard road. It was easier on his back, and it wasn’t as likely to leave him bleeding like the other surfaces out there.

[i]I should have run away that first night. I should have run away, and then kept running. I shouldn’t have listened to all those threats, shouldn’t have believed that I could have gotten away…shouldn’t have…[/i]

Shouldn’t have listened to his body, when it was all confused about the bondage and everything else. He gritted his teeth as he imagined what it would have done to him if Lenam had been using that fucking Charm spell from the beginning. The idea of his head getting all messed up from the ‘happy’ feelings every time that the elf wanted him to do something –

His cock tingled in that ‘happy’ sort of way, and Arga fought the urge to clench his legs together. It wasn’t the first time. As far as he knew, there wasn’t any ‘command’ that he enjoy himself, but whether it was the Charm spell with some lingering bit of fucked-up mess in his head or something else, he’d changed. Every so often, he thought of being used, of being in that happy place again, and…and something in him wanted it. Something in him dripped and clenched at the thought of it.

They’d already damaged him. He wasn’t going to make it easy for them to do it again.

The guar came to a halt. The wet ground sucked at him from the sides, and Arga lifted his head. As he looked around, he realized what kind of place they’d come to: a plantation.

All around him were farms, and the farms were tended by other Saxhleel, each of them naked and each of them bearing the same sort of mark over their crotch. Male, female, it didn’t matter; they all had the same slave mark, and they were chased around the fields by Dunmer with whips in hand. The males were struck, and the females –

He watched as one Dunmer snuck up behind a female, whispering something in her ear. She fell to her knees, the Saxhleel whimpering, whining, before crying out as her juices gushed from her slit to the earth. The Dunmer wrapped the whip around her neck, saying it again, again, again, laughing as she spasmed and orgasmed in helpless humiliation.

It disgusted him. Any sympathy that he’d felt for the Dunmer from Lenam’s story of the war disappeared then and there. Whatever ‘good’ people might be in this country, they let this happen, and they did fuck-all to stop it.

“Well, well, well,” a new voice said. “Another slave-hunter with new meat to sell. Not promising, seeing him dragged like this.”

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to have word with the Telvanni,” Lenam muttered. “One of theirs half-broke him during the marking. But he’s still useful enough, if you can incentivize him. If anyone can, you can.”

“Of course I can. Get him on his feet.”

The word came, and with it, instructions.

“Stand.”

Arga gritted his teeth as his body responded, dragging him from the muck. He stood up, one foot sinking into wetter earth, the other finding a slightly drier patch and staying up.

He looked up to see the lord of the area. This Dunmer wore a longer robe, but he had something on under it. Leather armor, or something of the sort, he imagined; this was someone that was a little more active. The elf looked him up and down and had the same glimmer in his eye that Gulan had for his slaves at the pleasure house.

A hint of fear pushed through the anger, but he managed to keep it from showing on his face. He clenched his fists, shaking his head.

“A beast, indeed. Angry, and stupid.”

The new Dunmer stepped forward and grabbed him by the cock. Before Arga could say a word, a flash of electricity surged through the elf’s fingers. The Saxhleel arched his spine, throwing his head back as he screamed in pain.

Every second felt like an eternity as the elf lord shocked his dick, zapping it with a potent lightning spell that pulsed, faded, and pulsed again, constantly forcing electricity up and down his shaft. He could barely breathe through the onslaught, his mouth hanging open and his eyes clenched tight.

When it was finally done, his cock ached, burning from tip to balls. He stumbled forward, slumping against the guar. The elf chuckled.

“Filthy beast will learn, eventually. Pain is the only master that they understand.”

[i]Pain…yes…give me pain,[/i] Arga thought. [i]Pain is a hundred times better than the other thing…[/i]

“We have a deal then?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll pay.”

“Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine. Here.”

As payment changed hands, Arga closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Things had changed, again. This time, he was in the hands of someone that didn’t care about holding back. This elf would hurt him, over, and over, and over again, whether he did something wrong or not. Lightning spells would probably be the least of it, but there would never be a Charm spell as long as he didn’t let his new owner find out that he feared them.

And that…that he could manage, he hoped.

[i]I can’t just fight back the way that I did with Lenam,[/i] he thought. [i]I have to find a different way to resist here. No, not resist, survive.[/i]

Because with the shackles, the mark, and everything else, there would be no escape. Not without breaking either the mark or the shackles first. If one of those changed, then maybe, [i]maybe[/i] he would have a chance, but until then, he was as doomed and trapped as all the other Saxhleel on the estate. He had to be smart about this, had to find that right balance between being too much of a bitch for the guards to bother with while not being such a problem that he called down the lord’s wrath too often.

[i]Be quiet, but not too quiet.

Be quick, but not too quick.

Be angry, but not too furious.

And most of all, look for any chance.[/i]

Geel-Sei had died because he was stupid and angry. Arga had been trapped because he was cautious and fearful. He had to be better than his friend and his past self if he was going to get out of here alive.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Arga goes through the last bit of his marking, as well as a mental rape of sorts that fucks with him hard.

Tags: M/M, M/solo, Anal, Mind-Rape, Orgasm, Cum, Elf, Racism, Dunmer, Argonian, Lizard, Humiliation, Creampie, Beating, Pain, Abuse, Slavery, Speciesism, Series, Electricity,