Third Day (5 of 6)
Breaking a Warlord: Damion becomes Mulsae’s living trophy at the dinner table
'Breaking a Warrior' 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.
Mulsae smirks, "Actually, I let you beat me up on several occasions just so you could win my clothes. I always knew I had more clothes back at the cabin. You did not, I had learned."
Damion feels like his brain has broken. The Water Master's little princeling was deviously giving him clothes as a child?
"One time I saw you walking by in the night, and I asked my mother where you were going. She told me you were an uplifted lowborn. You had no kin in the Hearthhold, so were expected to pitch your own tent at the edge and make do alone."
Mulsae sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, "I debated following you out there and dragging you back to my cabin. But I eventually decided not to because we probably would have killed each other if we tried to live in such close quarters together."
Damion remembers all too well how insufferable Mulsae was as a child and silently agrees to the assessment.
"And now here we are back together again," Mulsae taps a finger on his bicep, "My rival and bully in Kindlepoint is now my pet." He leans over and smiles devilishly as he runs a finger from Damion's temple to his chin, "My darling sweet good boy."
Damion shudders. Mulsae smirks then moves his chair back into place at the table and resumes his work.
Damion feels overwhelmed with the dump of information he just received. Saving lowborn wings. Mulsae remembers the first time they met. Backward Emberai culture. He was being given clothing because Mulsae was throwing their fights. Mulsae even considered living with him. His soldiers are going home pinioned to become a symbol against uprisings.
Damion's brain feels tied up in knots going every which way. He lays down on his back with his knees propped up staring at the tent's ceiling. His wings are still unbound and lay limply at his sides.
After minutes or hours, Damion's dazed state is interrupted by people entering the tent, greeting the Master, and taking seats at the table. Damion tries not to pay them any mind. He loathes being gawked and stared at. He prefers to just pretend that this current version of his life involves only he and Mulsae. No one else exists.
"Damion," he turns his head to look at Mulsae. "Kneel here." Oh fucking gods damnit. Mulsae is doing this on purpose to fuck with him.
Yes, that I am, the voice of Mulsae floats through his head.
Damion gets up as smoothly as he can and suppresses groans so he doesn't draw attention to himself in front of these guests, and positions himself to kneel at Mulsae's left side. Mulsae leans close to him and rests a possessive hand on top of Damion's head and keeps it there.
"Patron Thule," Mulsae states in his authoritative voice, "This is your meeting, please begin." Thule clears his throat and begins his announcements.
Mulsae keeps his hand on Damion's head. He occasionally runs his nails through his hair and down his scalp and Damion has to reign in every last inch of his will to not visibly melt at the sensations. Mulsae's ministrations move down to the nape of his neck and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into his neck muscles which causes Damion's self control to slip just enough that he closes his eyes a moment before flicking them back open and renews his concentration to not react.
I am stone, I feel nothing, Damion chants to himself.
Mulsae's hand rests down on Damion's left shoulder and stills. Damion breathes a sigh of relief that Mulsae has moved on and is maybe actually focusing on the meeting.
Those hopes are dashed as he feels a warmth build in his core. No, fuck, no.
Yes, Mulsae's voice purrs in his mind, fuck, yes.
I didn't even know telepaths could do this!
Ascending to Water Master has its perks, Mulsae purrs, I've now had lots of practice to ensure women never leave my bed unsatisfied.
The warmth spreads and tingling travels down through his caged cock and over to swirl around his prostate. His cock swells and presses against the cage.
Don't you have a meeting to pay attention to? Damion pleads.
Boring. Thule just likes to hear himself talk and think himself important.
The sensations grip at Damion and just as he begins to seriously question his ability to keep his composure, all of the sensations stop. Damion is tremendously relieved. He takes a deep calming breath.
Damion feels himself settling back into a normal state when that tell tale warmth grows again in his core. Fuck, you're being a tease.
You don't know the half of it, Mulsae purrs.
The sensations grow and boil and Damion locks down his body language to remain a statue of stone. But it's beginning to be too much and he starts to shake then... Poof, all the sensations disappear. Damion closes his eyes, lowers his head, and lets out a long soft exhale. Fuuuuuuccckk.
It's more difficult this time for Damion to get his senses back in order again. And Mulsae doesn't give him enough time before Damion feels that warmth grow once again. Oh fuck. I'm being edged.
Mulsae's affirmative hums float through his mind, I wonder how many times you can take it?
Damion screws his eyes shut. When he opens them again he notices one of the people at the table is eyeing him suspiciously. He closes his eyes again. This is Mulsae's fault, not mine.
The sensations grow and Damion can't resist arching his back just a bit and then... Everything stops again. Damion growls internally. Fuck being embarrassed in front of all these people, now I'm just frustrated.
The frustration battle within him hasn't even calmed down when the warmth building starts again. Damion feels in limbo between losing himself to the sensations and keeping self conscious and a stoic expression. He leans forward a bit and closes his eyes. The sensations grow and grow and surround him. He holds himself tight... and tighter. He feels he's going to crest so he holds himself as tightly still as possible, but that only starts him trembling from holding too still too tightly.
The crest topples before him, he starts to shudder and Mulsae announces, "Thank you, Patron Thule, for that riveting meeting." He pats Damion on the head while Damion shakes, "We are done for now. Everyone is dismissed."
Damion can hear everyone stand but his eyes are screwed shut and can't see what anyone's reaction is. He's lost in the wracking shudders. He just hopes no one notices the pooling cum between his legs.
The people say their goodbyes to their Sanctum Master and head out of the tent. When everything is quiet, Damion opens his eyes and finds Mulsae's face. He openly glares at him, That was cruel.
Mulsae smirks and waves a hand flippantly, "Thule tends to drone on and on."
Mulsae puts on a serious expression and points between Damion's legs, "Clean it up." Damion looks around and doesn't see anything he can clean it with.
"Lick it up." Damion minutely gags. You have got to be fucking kidding me.
"Lick it up."
Damion knows he has no real choice. He has no choices at all any more. He's trapped. Trapped in this disgusting life with Mulsae. He clears his throat and repositions himself so his head is by the floor.
It's warm cum and dirt from the floor. Fuck. Damion inhales, holds his breath and flattens his tongue along the floor and laps up his own cum. Nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty! He swallows and tries to punch back the nausea.
He takes a deep breath. Just two more like that and it should be enough. He quickly licks, swallows, then rapidly licks and swallows again. He tries to ignore his bodily sensations while he examines the floor. Thank gods, it was just three licks.
But then he hears it. The fapping above him. He twists around to see above him and there is Mulsae with his cock out and jerking it furiously. "Fuck, Damion, you're so nasty licking your cum up off the dirty floor." He's panting heavily.
"Hold your hands out. Hold your hands up to me." Damion complies with a grimace. A moment later, Mulsae groans and positions himself to spray lines of cum along Damion's hands. Mulsae sits back and pants. "Lick it up. Look me in the eye and lick it up."
Oh gross. So fucking gross. Damion continues to grimace while he keeps eye contact with Mulsae and licks up his hands. Some got on the cuffs so he has to lick those and stick his tongue in the seams to clean it all out.
When he's done he drops his hands into his lap and continues to look at Mulsae's eyes. Mulsae grabs both sides of Damion's head and scratches his scalp, "You are such a good boy." Gag me, please.
Mulsae smiles devilishly and takes his cock back in hand, "You'd like me to gag you?"
Damion's eyes widen with fright and his hands pop up in protest as he cowers away, "No no no no no! That's not what I meant!"
"Damion, you need to be more clear with your requests." To Damion's immense relief, Mulsae puts himself away and laces up his pants.
"Go to your place."
Damion swiftly scampers back to the furs and settles himself laying down with his back to Mulsae. Gods, I need a break from him.
Damion hears Mulsae move his chair to face the table again and some parchments shift around. Damion inhales deeply and lets out a long slow exhale. He reflects on what just happened and humiliation roils his stomach. Edged in front of people. A barely suppressed orgasm in front of them. Licking up cum and dirt. Mulsae jerking off into his hands. This is just all too much all at once. What the fuck.
Damion rolls his face into the furs. I just want to disappear from all of this. Mulsae continues to work at the table and Damion becomes mesmerized by the gentle sounds of his writing. He must be writing something particularly long, but whatever it is it pulls Damion into a waking trance.
Damion starts to hear people enter the tent and talk. He shifts his attention to the popping and crackling of the fire. He isn't tired enough to sleep, but just doesn't want to deal with any more of Mulsae's bullshit.
Chairs scrape across the floor and squeak and creak as people sit in them. He tries to focus on the sounds of the fire and drift back into his trance. He's having difficulty drifting his consciousness away into numbness with all the talking. He huffs silently to himself, readjusts his position to relieve some pressure points and listens in to the meeting.
They're talking about the logistics of breaking down the war camp. Most of it is boring, but they do touch on relocating the prisoners. They're debating gradually returning the prisoners back to the general population so as to minimize the stress of dissent on the communities. They need to figure out where and how to house the prisoners in the meantime.
Damion is brought up. Some are recommending specific instances where Damion should be paraded around the Emberai to keep them in check. If Damion is going to be kept alive, then his presence and predicament should be routinely seen by the Emberai. Damion rolls his eyes under his closed lids imagining his future of being shown as an embarrassment to his people. Those he worked with and trained for centuries.
They move on from the topic of prisoners and managing Emberai, and onto the topic of transporting other resources from the camp. Eventually the meeting runs its course and Mulsae dismisses them. Mulsae returns to his paperwork. Damion returns to focusing on the sounds of the fire.
The soothing sounds of the crackling fire and soft shuffling of parchments is interrupted once again by voices and people entering the tent, giving enthusiastic greetings to the Water Master. Mulsae stands and greets these guests in turn and encourages them to sit.
"Damion."
Damion suppresses an urge to groan while he turns to face Mulsae. Kneel there, Damion guesses.
Mulsae smirks. You're getting the hang of things. He points next to his chair, "Kneel here."
You need to show off your pet, I suppose, Damion thinks while getting himself into position.
You are such a prize, my good boy, of course I wish you to be on display, Mulsae coos.
Damion sees the guests have gotten settled and all five of them are staring right at him. One is openly gawking. He keeps his gaze on Mulsae and tries to ignore the guests. Servants begin to bring in platters of food. Mulsae caresses Damion's hair while the food is being arranged.
"I heard about what you were doing with Damion, but it is another thing altogether to see it for myself. Color me impressed, Water Master."
"Damion is quite a prize. If I had to win anything from this damn war, I could have done worse."
"What are your long term plans for him?"
"Day to day he'll be kept as my pet. But his primary purpose is to keep the Emberai in line." Mulsae serves himself food as he speaks, "For the centuries to come, Damion is to serve as a routine reminder of this loss and the price to pay for rebellion. He will accompany me, as my pet, whenever I visit Scaldmere."
Damion's stomach turns. How is he going to get through being dragged around Scaldmere in this state? Damion is so lost in his humiliation-filled thoughts he doesn't realize Mulsae has offered him food until he taps his lips with it a few times. Without even thinking, Damion just bites and sucks the food off the chopsticks.
"You're... Water Master, you're feeding him at the table? Right off your own chopsticks?" Damion deeply blushes. He was so humiliated at the idea of being paraded around Scaldmere that he forgot to feel ashamed for being fed like a baby.
Mulsae smiles, holds Damion's chin and looks him closely in the eyes as he responds, "I'm breaking down his dignity," He looks back up to his dinner guests, "He hates being fed, as he calls it, 'like a baby'. I continually expose him to these humiliations to force him to face his concept of dignity and gradually let it go."
The dinner conversation moves on to light, personal topics and Mulsae continues to slowly feed Damion.
They eventually finish eating but they're still lounging in their chairs, drinking, and talking casually. Damion has not been dismissed and continues kneeling staring at the floor. Every once and awhile Mulsae reaches out and scratches Damion's scalp and Damion has to resist leaning into it.
Damion's need to fidget becomes unbearable and so he decides to just go ahead and flex and fidget as he needs. He flexes his hands, and rolls his shoulders. His knees hurt, though. And his ankles are growing cramps. He has no idea how he can relieve that discomfort without drawing ire.
Fuck it, Damion finally thinks, I'm going to try laying down. He bends over to start laying down then, "Damion, no," Mulsae says. Damion whips back up into proper kneeling position. "You do not lay down until I instruct you to." Damion's throat bobs as he swallows. He hopes he isn't punished. The dinner guests chuckle.
"How do you get him to listen to you, Water Master?"
"He knows the consequences of not obeying and chooses to follow my commands to avoid those consequences."
"And the consequences are...?"
Continue reading: Third Day (6 of 6)
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