"He sighed inwardly. He had known the consequences when he had despatched the Malice's patron, and it had been a long time since Zaknafein had known the comfort of a female, especially one as shapely and skilful as Matron Malice."

Malice maintained the grip of her teeth on Zaknafein's lower lip as the male responded to her passion in kind. Zaknafein's powerful, calloused hands reached out for Malice's narrow waist and grasped firmly, causing a shiver of arousal to run through the Matron Mother's spine. Zaknafein's eyes closed for a moment, and he worked his lip free to thrust his tongue into the female's warm mouth, gasping with pleasure at the sensation. His eyes flicked open and down to the beautiful drow's chest as she pulled back from the violent kiss and roughly cupped his groin. Wasting no time with pleasantries, Zaknafein grasped the opening of Malice's robe and yanked at it, exposing a great deal of cleavage, but failing to fully uncover her shapely breasts. Malice squeezed her hand in response and Zaknafein felt himself stiffen inside her grasp, restricted by her grip and by his thin chain mail armor. He forwent trying to undress his lover for a moment to free himself from this painful restriction.

Malice smiled as she watched the weapons master strip. She licked her plump and swelling lips lasciviously as she watched the male uncover his powerful chest and firm abdomen, then loosened the belt of her robe in preparation as she watched him uncover his lower body, then remove his manhood from his underclothes. The dark shaft stood to attention as Malice stretched out her hand, gently skimming it with her fingernails, causing Zaknafein to quiver with excitement. She stepped forward, breaking the spell, and Zaknafein grabbed at her robe once again with renewed vigor and a surprising clumsiness for such a dextrous drow elf.

This time Zaknafein was more successful in uncovering Malice. He exposed her breasts in one quick fumbling moment, before wrapping his arms under her robe around her waist, pulling her closer and ducking his head to take her nipple into his mouth. Despite her age and her many children, Malice was a fine physical specimen, and while her breasts had lost some of their firmness and elasticity, they were still shapely, sizable, and perfectly symmetrical, with large, seductive nipples that glowed with heat. As Zaknafein focused on tantalizing her breasts with his tongue and teeth, the Matron released herself entirely from her garments, stripping off her undergarments as well to reveal a dripping, hairy opening, glowing with heat in the infrared spectrum.

Engrossed in his own activity, Zaknafein didn't notice until Malice placed her shapely hands on his shoulders, and forcefully shoved him to the ground, bringing her lithe, naked body down on top of him, before rolling them over so that the male was on top. As Zaknafein positioned himself to enter her, Malice drove the fingernails of one hand into his back, deriving great arousal from the gasps of pain he emitted, while the other sought out her own clitoris to add stimulation to herself. While Zaknafein was not an unskilled lover, Malice required a great amount of stimulation to reach her full climax, and she planned on making this a celebration to remember. Thoughts of her newfound power only served to stimulate her more, and she began to rub furiously at the nub of her clitoris while Zaknafein thrust inside her, seeking his own pleasure by the most efficient route. Moments later, Malice noticed the male beginning to reach climax and took him roughly by the throat, a warning of what should happen if he disappointed her.

Zaknafein noticed the warning and made a conscious effort to restrain his climax, only just managing to stop short of spilling his seed out. He switched to using his fingers to penetrate the beautiful female, saving his stamina, and brushed his thumb over the hand that she was using to pleasure herself, before lowering his mouth to take hers in his own. They continued like this for a short while, bodies locked together and writhing in pleasure, until the continual bucking of Malice's body convinced Zaknafein that the time was right to reinsert his manhood. He slid gently into her wet entrance, noting her tighten around him, and managed barely three pumps before the pressure became too much to handle, and he exploded his seed into her. Immediately his body, although not his shaft, fell limp, and Malice, in the throes of her own climax, rolled him over so she could grind onto him from above, thrusting her hips against him and crying out in pleasure, nipping and biting at his chest as she rode the wave of orgasm. Eventually the lithe female was satiated, and rolled off from the weapon master, closing her eyes as she rested on the floor of the throne room.

Malice hardly noticed as Zaknafein dressed quickly and hurriedly exited the room, her body tingling with pleasure as her hand continued to rub gently against her sensitive parts.


"When a spent and dejected Zaknafein finally left the room, the master of Bregan D'Aerthe slipped unnoticed inside the door, taking in the lovely view of an unclothed Matron Malice."

Jarlaxle's eyes widened as he swept his gaze over the naked body of the drow priestess, chasing over the swell of her breasts and down to where her fingers continued to pleasure herself. The normally unflappable drow swallowed almost imperceptibly as he stepped silently closer, kneeling down next to the matron, unable to tear his gaze away.

It had been centuries since Jarlaxle had been in such a compromising situation with Matron Malice. For the few years between his graduation from Melee-Magthere and when he left House Baenre to join Bregan D'Aerthe, Jarlaxle Baenre, thirdboy of the First House, had been a regular visitor at the Do'Urden compound, and Zaknafein was not the only Do'Urden whom he had visited. But the moment he abandoned his birthright in House Baenre, Malice had cut off all contact with him. It was too dangerous for a young, untested matron mother to consort with the rogue son of the powerful Matron Baenre. But now, centuries on, Malice was the second most powerful drow in Menzoberranzan, despite only leading the Eighth House, and Jarlaxle was perhaps the most powerful drow male anywhere in the Realms. If she chose to consort with Jarlaxle, and the cunning rogue was confident that she would, there was no-one capable of stopping her.

Jarlaxle still paused for a moment, afflicted by uncustomary nerves. Malice had been his favorite lover, and he thought, perhaps immodestly, that he had been hers. But that did not make things easier. Jarlaxle didn't know if he was capable of love, certainly most drow were not, and their language didn't even have a word to describe the concept, and he knew for a fact that Malice was not, but they had been very close, as close to the perfect partnership as it was possible to be in a city dominated by sexism, class consciousness, and ever-present betrayal. And so Jarlaxle wanted things to go back to the way they had been, to have that relationship once again.

He took a split second to listen fully to the faint moans of pleasure that Malice was still making, her sharp breaths, the sticky sound of her fingers in her moist bush, and then leaned forward ever so gently, almost worshipfully, to brush his lips softly against hers.

The next thing Jarlaxle knew, he was being flung backwards, and Malice was rising up with fury writ large on her face. As she recognized him, however, the expression changed slightly to a more passionate form of aggression. Within seconds, all of the male's clothes, and a significant portion of his flamboyant jewelry, were scattered among Malice's own clothing, and the rogue was on his back, tongue fully engaged between the lips of Malice's privates. He reached up blindly and the matron mother took his hands, guiding them to her full breasts as she ground her hips forcefully against Jarlaxle's face. The male inhaled deeply, tasting and smelling at the same time the partly sweet and partly acrid musk of Malice's fluids and the salty taste of Zaknafein's own ejaculate. Jarlaxle was not the kind of drow to mind.

As his jaw and tongue tired, Jarlaxle moved his hands from Malice's soft breasts to her surprisingly soft hips, and rolled the female onto her back, lifting himself up towards her face. He paused briefly to nuzzle the underswell of her dark breasts, and then lick the even darker, even more sensitive nipples, before pressing his mouth to his lover's, letting her taste the fluids that she herself had leaked into his mouth.

Malice was not finished with her dominance, however, and Jarlaxle found himself once again roughly flipped to the stone floor. Malice took a moment to position herself, and then Jarlaxle screamed in agony and ecstasy both as the beautiful female sheathed Jarlaxle's firm member inside of her, but also raked sharp nails down his pectorals and then back up the back side of his thighs. Malice continued to ride Jarlaxle like this, inflicting pain and pleasure alike, until she reached yet another climax, moaning deeply with pleasure, even as Jarlaxle tried to drive himself deeper within her to reach his own. Malice rolled off from the male's body, watching as he reached to finish himself off. As Jarlaxle's dark hand neared his throbbing member, Malice knocked it away with her own hand. "I don't think so," she spoke, her husky voice almost a whisper, and Jarlaxle was almost able to mistake her tone for tenderness. He groaned, hoping that Malice herself would help him climax, preferably with her mouth. However, his hopes were dashed when Malice spoke again, "This is your punishment for assaulting a matron mother. Learn from it, and maybe I shall allow you release next time."

Despite the pain of desiring climax and being unable to reach it, Jarlaxle couldn't help smiling when Malice said 'next time'.


"'Because you're powerful, and you're mysterious, and because a true drow elf cares about no-one but herself.' Drizzt's eyes widened at this last statement, but it was too late to pull away before her soft lips were pressed to his, and he surrendered to her desires."

The feeling of soft, female lips on his own awakened the primal instinct that Drizzt had been fighting, and trying to understand, for the last few years. He still didn't understand it, but he had no time to think, as he could focus on nothing but the firm body pressed against him, the pert breasts not fully hidden by the thin robe, and the sudden, painful firmness of his phallus. Drizzt broke the kiss and inhaled sharply, drawing in oxygen to combat his sudden lightheadedness, and then was forcefully pulled back into the kiss by a firm hand on the back of his head.

Zayana was somewhat impressed by her own boldness. She was fully aware of the danger of the drow she was kissing, as well as the unpredictability of youthful impulses. But it was this danger, this excitement that was contributing the most to the wetness between her legs. But Drizzt was not aggressive, though she could tell he was enjoying himself, and she sensed the confusion of a first time. Zayana quickly decided that she would go slowly, and give up some pleasure now to bind the young, powerful drow to her as firmly as possible. Drizzt Do'Urden was not only attractive, deadly, and immature, but also the most powerful consort any drow female could imagine. And that, more than anything, contributed to Zayana's first climax, before any clothing had even been removed.

The two drow moved quickly from there, Drizzt hesitant but Zayana experienced and forceful, and before long Drizzt was standing unclothed on the roof with Zayana kneeling in front of him, her head bobbing up and down on his shaft, tongue rolling languidly around the tip. Her white hair flapped wildly around her, covering her face, though Drizzt would not have known. The adolescent's eyes were closed, and before long the warm caresses of Zayana's mouth caused him to ejaculate firmly, surprising both himself and the beautiful female. She paused for a moment, in place above his shaft, then turned her head and spat out the fluids, before rising and drawing her new lover into a tight embrace and a tender kiss. Drizzt recoiled slightly at the salty taste of his own seed, but managed to control himself for politeness sake, and then deepened into the kiss. Moments later, Zayana led the young drow by the hand from the rooftop, to somewhere with a bed.