First Day (2 of 8)
Breaking a Warlord: Captured and bound, Damion becomes a symbol of conquest in the hands of his greatest enemy
‘Breaking a Warlord’ Content Warning: Erotic Horror
Story contains non-consensual sex, psychological manipulation, power imbalance, humiliation, dehumanization, and other dark, disturbing themes.
This story invites reflection on what happens to the mind under sustained horror, how identity reshapes itself around trauma, and what traces of agency persist when autonomy has been stripped away.
Proceed with extreme caution.
Damion doesn't move but tracks Mulsae as he circles, examining his prize. Mulsae lets his hand caress across Damion's ass as he passes by. So this is the one who is going to fuck him, then. Maybe he should be honored that he'll be sullied by one of the seven most powerful people in Harmura. It somewhat reflects how much he achieved in his life and the true meaning of being the Harbinger of the Flood.
Mulsae rounds to Damion's front again and looks him in the eyes. A smile warms across Mulsae's face.
"Harbinger of the Flood," Mulsae says calmly like a man who knows he has no need to raise his voice, "You have been a thorn in my side for the past six moons."
He reaches out a hand and caresses down Damion's cheek before grasping his chin, "You've personally killed countless good men and women. People with spouses. Children. Parents. Siblings."
He lowers his hand and puts it back in his pocket. He stands with a casual grace. "Did you think of that before you started this war? About who would be hurt?"
Damion doesn't answer. Mulsae cocks his head to the side. "Of course you didn't. You expected to die. You expected a warrior's grand funeral for honoring death in battle. You expected mothers to feel pride for their fallen sons."
He narrows his eyes, "But not every culture is like the Emberai. We don't all long to die in the flames of battle. There are other dreams, and the Emberai's warmongering has snuffed countless dreams."
He holds his chin up, "I believe your death cult has made it so your people no longer understand the consequences of loss. I aim to change that."
He levels a stern gaze at Damion, "I intend to make you a lesson to the Emberai. A lesson to understand the true concept of loss."
He unsheathes an obsidian dagger. Of course it's obsidian. He gets close and brings the tip towards Damion's talisman embedded under his collarbone.
No. Damion's eyes widen. The tip of the dagger touches his skin and Damion hops back the little bit that he can. Mulsae wordlessly grasps his back in one hand and digs his dagger into his skin. He slices across the talisman and digs it out.
Damion is grimacing from both pain and horror. You just do not take a Windborne's talisman. Even in death, the Windborne is to die and be cremated with their talisman.
The talisman pops out into Mulsae's hand, and he steps back, closely watching Damion. He's deflating. His powers winked out the moment the talisman left his body. He no longer senses the metal rivets on the trunk. He no longer senses the guards and the passersby.
He feels suddenly blinded. He's disoriented. He didn't even realize how much he depended upon those extra senses to orient him in space. He feels the world has crashed in on him and enveloped him.
Mulsae puts the talisman in his pocket. "I'll destroy it later," he says. Damion tries to suppress his expression of sorrow. He's going to die without it. He's going to be cremated without it. He's already being tortured with this blindness without it.
Mulsae snaps his fingers and a servant comes in and hands him a box then departs.
"I found the plans for this while doing some research on how to solve Emberai warmongering problem." He opens the box and drifts his fingers across what is inside.
"I added my own touch. I had to search high and low for a Sky-Touched crafter from the Mountain Sanctum willing to work with someone of Water Sanctum descent," he says wistfully, "But I found them and they enchanted this so that when it closes it will never open again."
He lifts the object. It's made of thin wires and shaped like a cylinder that's domed on one side. "I'm locking you."
Locking what? What can be locked with that?
Mulsae's smile twitches then widens. He kneels down in front of Damion.
No...
"Yes," Mulsae says.
He swaps objects in the box and removes a ring. He grasps and manipulates Damion's cock and balls to thread them through the ring so it is seated surrounding him at the base.
Locking me... Never open again...
Mulsae takes the wired object and looks at it closely. "I hear you are quite a ladies man. They flock to you. They sing your praises and ask for seconds."
He looks up at Damion, "Never again. You will never feel the warmth of wet pussy enveloping you ever again."
He slides the cage-like object around his cock. The size seems to fit perfectly. His flaccid cock gently shrinks into itself to fit inside the cage.
He looks up at Damion. "Once a latch snaps closed, it can never be opened again."
It's okay, it's okay, I'm just dying soon anyway.
Mulsae stands up, keeping the cage in place as he does so. He's so close to Damion's face. Too close.
"I'm not killing you," he says lowly, "I'm transforming you." He snaps a latch shut. Damion's breath hitches.
"You are to teach the Emberai about the meaning of loss." The second latch snaps closed. Damion shifts uncomfortably.
"You are going to become a symbol." The third latch snaps. Damion swallows.
"You are now my pet." The fourth and final latch snaps into place. Damion breathes shallowly.
My cock is caged permanently. And I'm not dying. I have to live like this. Permanently. He can't believe it's true. He makes plans to try to yank it off when he has his hands back.
None of this feels like it is really happening. He is simultaneously here and not here. There is not a cage permanently attached to his cock. He feels like this is all temporary and he'll be back to his regular life soon.
Then the word 'pet' sinks into his consciousness. The horror of being permanently emasculated is over written at the horror of being referred to as a pet.
What does he mean by pet?
Mulsae steps back and looks Damion up and down with lust glazed eyes.
"I mean," Mulsae starts, "That you are going to be a good boy for me, kneel at my side, and do everything I command you to."
Damion is incredulous. There is no way he would ever kneel as a pet. He narrows his eyes. He can try, but I will be nothing but trouble.
Mulsae smiles devilishly. "We'll see," is all he says.
Damion takes another look up at the rafters to analyze yet again if he can get free. He tugs again at the rope. No, he's trapped. He looks back at Mulsae. Besides, this is the Water Master. An Emberai tailisman may grant the ability to push someone through their blood, but the Water Master can freeze someone still. He closes his eyes and takes a breath before opening them again. He's stuck here.
He's stuck with whatever plans Mulsae has for him. He has no options. He simply is observing his fate unfold before his eyes.
"Welcome to your new life, my pet," Mulsae purrs. He takes off his tunic and folds it over the small table. Then he removes his belt. He approaches Damion while undoing the ties of his pants.
"Your cock is mine now, Damion," he takes himself out of his pants. He's already long and hard. "As my pet," he presses up behind Damion and runs his cock between his cheeks, "The only cock you will concern yourself with for the rest of your days is mine."
Damion stands still as Mulsae continues to rut against him. He can't escape this. He shifts his gaze to the fire and tries to get lost in its flickering patterns. To forget how helpless he is to the shame he's about to endure.
Mulsae backs away and opens the trunk. He pulls out a bottle and returns to Damion while pouring some of the contents on his fingers.
Damion flinches when Mulsae's finger slide into his cleft and touches his hole. He glides his finger around the entrance. Damion's never been touched there. Dread fills his bones. He swallows and stares at the fire again, trying to become lost within it.
"You're so tight," Mulsae says softly, "You won't be for long. I'm going to gradually stretch you with larger and larger anal plugs. Until your hole is just perfect for my cock."
Mulsae whispers into Damion's ear, "I'm going to make you a fuckable cunt." Damion's body shudders. None of this is happening. None of that is going to happen. But he shudders because his body knows that's a lie. This is happening. And he has no power to prevent Mulsae from doing whatever he wants to him.
Mulsae presses his finger firmly to breach Damion's entrance. Damion grimaces and stares into the fire. The light is burning black spots into his retinas. Mulsae starts thrusting his finger in and out. Oh gods, this feels so weird. He squeezes his eyes shut, but that just traps him alone with these sensations so he focuses again on the dancing fire.
Mulsae pulls against the rim to stretch it further and Damion's lips part as his face folds into a crumpled grimace. He doesn't care about the faces he's making. Caring about his image just isn't important right now. He's alone with Mulsae, and he isn't even able to see his face right now. So he doesn't care and just does what he needs to in order to cope.
And right now that involves rolling his neck as Mulsae inserts a second finger and thrusts. Damion assesses his situation again. The rope holding his hands is secure. He pulls it again anyway. Mulsae can hold him still by his blood. He's trapped. He takes a half step forward anyway.
Mulsae uses his other hand to pull his hip back and whispers, "You're not going anywhere. This is happening. Now." Mulsae opens his fingers like scissors and Damion feels the stretch. He screws his eyes shut.
Mulsae increases the speed of his fingering. The soft squelching sounds seem loud in this silent tent. A blush warms across Damion's cheeks. He lets his chin fall to his chest as he tries to manage his breathing. Slow inhale, slow exhale.
Damion grunts and shuffles his feet when Mulsae inserts a third finger. He looks up at the ceiling. He imagines his consciousness just floating up and away out of this tent. Out of this experience.
Mulsae takes out his fingers and bends over for the bottle of oil. He oils his cock and drops the bottle.
"Pay attention," Mulsae purrs. He positions the head of his cock at Damion's entrance. Damion's breath hitches. Gods, I can't believe this is happening.
"I want you to feel every inch of me as I fill you," he says as he presses himself forward slowly. His cock penetrates his entrance. This is it. I'm ruined now. His heart sinks. If news of this spreads widely his legacy will be erased.
"As time goes on," Mulsae says as he continues slowly forward. "Your cunt will be molded to fit me perfectly. Even when I’m not inside you, you’ll always feel the shape of me." Damion gasps at the thought of this continuing on. Tomorrow. The day after. Next week.
What Mulsae is doing doesn't hurt. He's been slow. Cautious. Sensitive. These new sensations are overwhelming, though. His neck and chest warms. But to do this again and again? Day after day? How is he going to cope?
He shouldn't worry about the future. His fate is sealed. He should just focus on how to cope through right now. And right now Mulsae has fully seated himself inside. He pulls Damion's hips with both hands to emphasize just how joined they are at this moment. His ass has swallowed every inch of Mulsae's cock. He can feel his hole throb as it clenches and unclenches, familiarizing itself with the shape of Mulsae.
"Your cock is gone. The only cock in your life now is mine."
Mulsae begins slow shallow languid thrusts. He changes angle a few times. And then Damion lets out an involuntary moan when a sensation he's never felt before washes over his body. It... it feels amazing. What is that?
"That is what's called a 'prostate'. It's very sensitive. And very pleasurable to caress," he thrusts his cock over that spot again. And again. That feeling washes over him again and again. This is too much. "You'll become very familiar with this feeling, because this is how you'll cum from now on." He rests his forehead on Damion's back pants as he grinds his cock into him, "And you will cum. Every time. I'll make sure of it."
No, no, no. He shouldn't be feeling good. He looks up at the rafters and pulls on the ropes again. Please, brain, please figure out a way out of here. It's hard to think with these sensations building up.
Continue reading: First Day (3 of 8)
Chapter Index