Bad Business (closed to Aurelianus) Rated Aure

[Mari]

“I hate this.”

“Don’t care, waif.” Came a low, gruff reply.

Amari wasn’t the only failed ransom from the bandits. It seemed that Dukes and Lords cared little for their own offspring and more for money, power, and status. The bandit group had escorted two such woman, three if you were to include Amari in their ranks. They rode by horse drawn carriage to the outer reaches of Knifes Edge, word had spread about a brothel - The House of Sin, and the bandits - always looking for a quick and easy way to either pleasure themselves, or make quick coin were headed there.

“Why can’t we just let them go?”

Amari’s question spurred an eruption of laughter from the three heavily armed bandits that accompanied her. “Aye, I don’t know if yer innocent or just stupid, lass.” One of them responded, giving her a jovial slap on the back, Amari fell forward from the brute force. She shot the man, Briar, a glare. Briar smacked his lips, grabbing hold of her chin and forcing her to lean closer to him. “Ye lucky yer so diseased, else you’d be joining ‘em. Shit, if we weren’t worried ‘bout bad bidnus, we’d just sell ye now.” Briar shoved her unceremoniously away, and Amari, having being bound fell to the floor of the carriage.

“It’s a waste, really. She’s quite a looker.” A gloved hand reached out and pulled Amari back up to the wooden seat by her hair. Amari responded with a quick elbow to his side. The man, known as Elrik laughed. “Hah, careful now waif, jus’ cause we can’t lay you, don’t mean we can’t hurt you.” Elrik twirled a strand of her hair round and round between his fingers. “Whens the last time anyone saw a redhead?”

“In Salvar? Rare, but not unheard of. Tis her eyes that are more interestin’, shame its jus’ from a disease that’d rot yer dick.” A thick, rough voice drolled, with a exhale. He sat at the head of the carriage. Finishing the cigar, he snuffed it out next to him. His dark, chestnut eyes examining the scene before him. His Allies, Elrik and Briar sat either side of the carriage, each one sitting next to bound, lithe girls. Their heads lowered, bound, gagged and covered by old potato sacks. Then there was Amari, the disobedient redhead. They couldn’t sell her, they couldn’t fuck her, but it’d be a waste, and loss of pride to just let her go.

“We’re almost there, I’ll have ya’ll keep quiet - and Amari.” He paused, his eyes falling on her. “I’d like to think yer smart enough to not run away, especially in such debuchary.” His eyes travelled down her near nude form, she wore undergarments that covered her more delicate areas, but her nipples, and details were taught, and stuck out prominently through the flimsy, see through material.

Amari turned her head away from Lance, attempting to cover her chest with her hands. She huffed, partly in anger, and partly in frustration. He was right. For once, she’d be better off under the care of her captors, no doubt it’s why they forced her into such attire. “Fine. I’ll be good.”

Lance leaned back, seemingly pleased with her placated response. “Untie her legs, keep her hands bound. If she tries anythin’ knock her out, but don’t scar her body. As Briar oblidged Lance turned his eyes back to the two nobles. They were quiet, submissive. Beaten down and fucked mercilessly, the bandits having taking out all their sexual frustrations on the twins that they couldn’t explore with Amari. They were thin, with olive skin and dark features. Chocolate brown,doe-eyes hidden under the sacks. Their hair, which ahd been tenderly brushed and cleaned by Amari, stuck out, long chestnut wisps hung just below their shoulders. “Lets hope we get a heavy purse for the girls.” Lance mused, lighting another cigar as the carriage drew to a halt.

He drew a long breath, standing and opening up the back of the carriage, with a gesture of his hands he invited the others to follow.

“Let’s get ter business.”


He pushed open the large double doors, with Amari close behind. The two nobles were carried on the shoulders of both Elrik and Briar. They were lead into a small antechamber. Another set of dark oak double-doors leads into the main foyer itself.

Iron braziers line the walls, sending aphrodisiac smoke through the room. Small alcoves line it, padded with pillows and and furs, upon them - people were fucking, hard. Briar and Elrik hi-fived each other. "Perhaps we should stay here a while once bidness done, yeh?" Briar mused, licking his lips as his eyes followed the pert ass of a passerby.

To the left, right and straight ahead, hallways branch off to more chambers from which screams, the sounds of raw sex and the whip-crack of leather on flesh sound. Amari flinched as another crack, followed by an estatic cry echoed around them. "Can't I just wait outside?" She focused her green eyes to the floor. Cheeks red, this place made her extremely uncomfortable, even more so with the attire she was forced to wear. The thin material barely covering her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Don't be like that, Amari. You fit right in." Lance grinned, "Why do you think we dressed you like that in the first place?"

"Cause you're fuckin' perverts?"

Lance chuckled, "That we are. That we are."

They he signalled for them to stop, and glanced around. Two curving iron staircases lead from the edges of the foyer up to the second floor. Up on the third, overlooking the rest of the main foyer looked to be a large room. Thick glass windows hide the interior from casual scrutiny. "Must be where the boss is." Lance motioned toward the room.

Amari, against her best judgement rose her eyes from the floor, stepping in closer toward Lance. Her eyes fell on rich tapestries which covered the bare stone walls, depicting men, women and inhuman beasts locked in obscene couplings, showing all manner of questionable depravity.

"Ugh.." She muttered to herself. "We shouldn't be here. It doesn't feel...." She paused, the last of her sentence spoken in a hushed whisper. "Right..." She pulled her arms tighter around herself. "Can't you just let them go, add it to my debt or whatever?"

"Sweetheart, you don't have a debt. We own you. Now, unless you can fuck everythin' here, and earn some serious coin we doing business- yer will shut up, else we'll cram somethin' in that mouth of yours."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelianus Drak'shal closed his eyes and allowed himself a shiver of pleasure as another slender steel blade slid under his flesh.

Resting his head back against the high-backed chair, the half-devil brought a wooden pipe to his lips and inhaled deeply; the purple crystalline leaves smouldered under the flicker of Hellfire the warlock willed into the bowl. Scyllip leaves had been one of the tiefling hedonist's favourite narcotic discoveries in his time on this world. He breathed deeply, letting the pipe fall back to his side and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

It brought a pleasant buzz in to his head, sharpening his senses and allowing him to relax simultaneously - to focus only on the immediate sensations happening. It brought a singular clarity to each moment, better allowing Aurelius to savour it all.

Beside him, Natalia knelt on the hard-wood floor. As always, she was wearing nothing except imaginative piercings and slender chains across the mesmerising scales Aurelius had gifted her with his abilities. Her nimble fingers were busy threading a series of steel razor blades through the brothel-master's cheeks, leaving them in serried rows. More of the decorations pierced and lacerated his tattooed arms where his bladed leather armour left them bare. His inky blood slid over cold white skin.

A small crowd had gathered around, vicariously delighting in the experience Aurelius was inviting. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the wood-panelled room, small braziers providing heat from the darkened corners. Many of the people here bore some sign of Aurelianus' fleshcrafting Art, and the majority were regular denizens of the House of Sin. All of them had taken to the freedom Aurelius had granted, exploring the depths and breadths of sensation. Not just physical - the House catered to all whims, mental and emotional as well as the purely tactile. No depravity was unwelcome, and the owner went to great lengths to ensure his workers were as eager as the visitors to experience all that they could.

The gathering took up one of the smaller chambers off of the foyer, but the raucous din of the establishment still rang around the walls. It was a symphony of red delights and it nourished the half-devil like little else could.

"Master," a sibilant voice whispered in his ear.

Aurelius opened serpentine eyes, narrowing in irritation at the title.

Gimmel stood at his side, lean body wrapped in leather bindings so tight, they left the few exposed areas of flesh white and bloodless.

The eyeless torturer seemed incapable of dropping the honorific, somehow oblivious to Aurelius' loathing of the implications behind it. But the tiefling allowed the pain-artist his idiosyncrasy. It was a small price to pay for someone so hungry to teach the truth of pain to the masses.

"What is it, cutter?"

"We have new guests," Gimmel hissed the word through his new steel teeth. "Slavers, the workers tell me."

"Really?"

The word was drawn out, hinting at amusement and piqued curiosity.

A dark smile spread across the horned deviant, his quills scraping drily against each other as another shiver ran up his spine. This time it had less to do with Natalia's razor-edged ministrations. She looked up at Aurelius, her shimmering curtain of crimson hair falling back to reveal an arched eyebrow above a glittering green eye. The question in her expression was obvious, and she held a serrated pin near the back of the tiefling's hand.

He subtly shook his head and she withdrew.

With a second spared to savour the feeling of the embedded razor blades slicing just under the surface of his skin, Aurerlianus rose from his chair. He patted Gimmel on the shoulder, smirking.

"Show me," he chuckled.

The blind former-man led the way from the small room, he and his master ignoring the smattering of applause Aurelius' display received, moving through the crowds. He was completely unhindered by his lack of vision, innately knowing when to step around a person, when an obstacle crossed his path. Aurelius stalked behind him, golden-yellow irises catching every flicker of torchlight in the controlled gloom. Thick smoke coiled languidly around the pleasure-seekers thronging the foyer. A chorus of depravity rose from the crowds; screams; moans; the hiss of heated metal on skin; a bizarre and diverse mix of sounds.

Running a hand through his crests of quills along his scalp, the tiefling marked the newly arrived guests before Gimmel could point them out.

A rough looking trio of bashers, but that was nothing new to the House of Sin. A meek little redhead chit cowered behind them, clad in something a little too flimsy for the half-demon's tastes - no buckles, no blades, just a dusting of material that barely covered her assets. Nudity was prevalent here, but this was plainly the thugs' vanilla attempts to fit the House's aesthetic.

No understanding, no appreciation of what had been birthed here.

Aurelianus' lips peeled back in a half-snarl, half-smirk.

He was aware of a flutter of colour in his peripheral as Natalia appeared at his side. She was always eager to see new people enter the building, to help them make their darkest wishes come true. But like the rest of the workers under this roof, she bore no love of slavers. Aurelianus had taught them all the value and necessity of personal choice; these men didn't.. couldn't understand the difference between giving someone else control, and having it taken away from you by force.

But they would.

Two of the bigger men had girls trussed up and bound over their shoulders. The girls squirmed, but their half-hearted struggles clearly illustrated their air of defeat. Even without his witch-sight, the veteran sadist could see the basic, unrefined cruelties that had been lavished on them by their chaperones.

Moving through the crowd like a serpent in the grass, Aurelianus appeared in front of the men without warning.

His smile widened, the blades under his flesh moving, cutting deeper. Spreading his razor-laden arms in welcome, the tiefling turned his gaze on the small assembly.

"And what can I do for you bashers today?" he grinned.

[Mari]

“Lance you’re a fucking ass.” Amari muttered.

“Yeh?” Lance reached out and grabbed Amari’s own pert buttocks. Dirtied nails digging into her barely exposed flesh. He grinned as she winced and tried to wrench herself free. “And I will make sure yers gets defiled if yer keep runnin yer mouth. Diseases you ‘ave be damned.” He pushed her away with a violent shove. The chains wrapped around her feet caused Amari to stumble then fall.

Pushing herself up off the floor Amari glared at Lance. Ready to insult him again, as if reading her thought pattern one of the other bandits stomped his foot down on her hand. Holding her in place. “I wouldn’t.” He warned. Amari clenched her teeth. Holding in a yelp. She hated these men. “Slavery is fuckin’ wrong.” Amari hissed. “No one should have total control over another, it’s-”

Amari was kicked in the side of the face. The brute force knocking her further down toward the ground. Lance pressed his boot to her head. The throbbing pain and the fact that her head was being pressed into the ground caused her to groan. She tried to lift herself back up, fighting the force of Lance’s boot.

Aurelianus approached the bandits, Amari, and the two quiet and broken slave girls. All but Lance seemed taken aback by the sudden appearance of the tiefling, and Natalia. Lance grinned. “One moment, aye.”

He kneeled down to Amari’s level, and pulled her up by her hair. Standing tall he lifted her, the muscles in his arm becoming taught. She dangled, her toes barely touching the ground. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” Amari screamed, clawing at his grip.

“Need ta teach this thing ‘er place.” Lance bowed his head to Aurelianus, to show respect. He turned his eyes to Amari. “You.” He seethed. “Need ta understand that you’re our slave. No matter how hard we beat you down- He paused, gliding his free hand up her torso. Ignoring the shivering from the woman. He pressed his thumb deep into an angry red burn just below her right breast. “Or ‘ow much we punish you. Yer don’t seem to get it.” He slammed her into the ground. Clearly posterizing for Aurelianus.

“Yer place is ‘ere. Below our feet.” He spat at her, and a wad of mucused saliva landed on her cheek, and slowly slid down. “Stay.” He warned.

Lance straightened, and wiped his hands off on his jacket. “Sorry ‘bout that. Surely you’d know all about beating the fight outta yer slaves.” He gestured to the others, who brought forth the two broken women. “I hear your establishment is one of the most visited ‘round these parts. I was gonna offer a sale of these two fine young lasses, twins. But-” Lance paused, his grin widening. “I have a different proposition.”

He kicked Amari over to Aurelianus. Amari was pushed along the floor, she spluttered and forced herself up onto her knees. It was at this point, that she finally laid eyes upon Aurelianus. His outfit was fashioned out of leather and spikes. She couldn’t help but notice that with every slight movement he made, they’d slash at his skin, ripping it open to unveil streaks of thick black ooze. He hard sharpened teeth, and pointed ears. He also looked rightly pissed. How Lance and the others did not see that, was beyond Amari.

She wiped the spit from her cheek. “Yer pissing him off.” She muttered.
There was a flash of red, and Amari’s bi-coloured eyes glanced upward again. It was another woman. Red headed, and covered in glistening scales, tinted a slight scarlet hue. Amari thought she was absolutely stunning, despite the circumstances she realized her cheeks were flush. Amari hadn’t really felt attraction to anyone before, at least - not in the way that stirred her chest, nor caused goosebumps to freckle her skin. Frustrated, confused, and annoyed Amari glanced away.

“We should leave.”

Lance stepped forward and pressed his boot hard onto Amari’s back. Pushing her back into the ground. “My proposition….” He seethed. “Is for you, my good man. To break her.” He shrugged his shoulders, “No matter what we do, she keeps fighting back. Annoying really.”

“Oi, Lance - I don’t think the boss’ll-”

Lance turned, “He’ll LOVE it if we come back with an obedient little doll instead of this obstinate fucking bitch.”

Lance pointed to Natalia, who had taken to slowly circling the men. Her nostrils flaring. “Look at this thing, he got her wrapped around his finger- he got an entire whore house o’ slaves.” Lance turned back to Aurelianus.

“What say you? Two broken girls, in exchange for yer services.” Lance grinned, holding out his hand to Aurelianus.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The words kept flowing from Lance's mouth, like pus from a lanced boil.

Every one of them bought him more suffering to come, but for now Aurelius held his ire in check. He drew his wooden pipe from a belt pouch, tamping down a bowlful of purple leaves as he watched the show-boating thug beat the piss out of the meek little redhead. A flicker of blackest flame swirled into the dark wood and the half-devil inhaled deeply. Meanwhile, the apparent leader of the group showed impressive strength, dragging the girl upright before casually throwing her to the floor again. No-one made efforts to stop it; none would dare jump in when the master of the House was already present.

He was the undisputed arbiter of punishment under his roof. And everyone knew how much he relished the job.

He let his eyes wander over the little assembly before him, tuning out the hubbub of the crowds moving through the building - it was like a living beast, the air thick with perspiration and the raw scent of sex, a heaving carpet of decadent flesh experiencing itself subjectively. Finally, feeling a prickling heat build in his fingertips, Aurelius exhaled a cloud of violet-tinted smoke. It hung thickly in the cloying air of the foyer. He felt several droplets of blood slide down his ashen skin from his decorations, a quick bead of heat followed by a sudden coolness as the air started to dry it.

"Yer pissing him off," the girl mouthed quietly from her spot at the tiefling's feet.

Ain't she the perceptive one? he thought with a chuckle.

Even as he glanced down at the girl, something caught his attention. His eyes narrowed momentarily as they alighted on the sigil across her lower back.

The scyllip leaves were working, and he found himself fixated by the curiosity. The warlock had seen similar work before, but Powers be damned if the memory would come to him. He could feel every minute movement of the razors in his flesh, could smell the House around him. Everything blanketed his senses as he tried to focus on the sigil. Finally, smirking at his own slow wits, he opened his eyes to the witch-sight.

Instantly, everything around him took on vibrant, kaleidoscopic hues - every living thing shone with their own swirling blend of colour as Aurelianus stripped away their flesh and gazed hungrily on their souls. The majority around him showed him nothing new, his workers themselves marked out by a mix of familiarity and the darkening of their aura after prolonged exposure to the House of Sin.

The sigil itself was definitely more than just a piece of body-art. Aurelius, a veteran of countless magicks, could practically taste the arcane marking's power. This spoke of soul magick, of binding and control. The tiefling used something similar himself to bob the gullies that crossed his path. It was old arcana, albeit no less powerful for that fact.

But that paled in comparison to the new conundrum he found himself staring at.

Amari's soul burned brightly, shining like a beacon in the fog. The demonic soul-broker had seen literal thousands of them in his time trafficking with the Lower Planes, but this one was definitely a rare little treat. Definitely not human.. or at least, not all human. It almost resembl--

A boot came down hard on Amari's back, smashing her into the tiled floor again and driving the wind from her lungs.

It snapped Aurelius back to the present moment and he rose to his feet slowly, clamping the pipe back between his curving fangs and drawing deeply again. The tiefling had barely noticed Lance continuing to talk, but now his dark smile returned.

Natalia circled the group as Lance insulted her, the half-demon marking her hands tensing into killing claws - his own mutating sorcery had gifted her with scalpel-sharp talons, easily capable of rending leather and the soft flesh beneath. Aurelius could smell her hunger for blood but at a subtle and unseen gesture from Aurelius, she backed off and settled for staring the nervous bashers down. Her feline stride brought her back to Aurelius' side.

"Can we play with them now?" she purred in his ear, one finger toying with the myriad piercings in his face while the other ran delicately over the barbs and hooks adorning his armour.

He leaned in with the pretence of nipping her neck with his teeth, whispering a few quiet words in her ear as he did so.

Her sparkling emerald eyes lit up and she took a half-step back.

The effect was immediate; Natalia spared the poor rats that had wandered into Aurelianus' maze one last glance before she stole the pipe from the tiefling's hand, and slid off into the crowd to do as he had asked. While the scarlet-haired vixen would have been content to rake their flesh at her leisure, what Aurelianus proposed was a much worse fate. She could clearly see Gimmel had heard Aurelianus' suggestion by the tight smile on his slender lips. For a blind man, his other senses continued to impress and annoy her.

This was the difference. This was what Lance and his lads seemed unable to understand - none of the deviants under this roof followed Aurelianus' lead because he demanded it, or because they feared punishment if they didn't.

They did it because his way was always the most damned fun.

"So," he finally spoke, purple smoke coiling from the edges of his smile, "let's see if I got this right then. You bashers want to garnish me with the chits there, an' in return all I 'ave to do is show the little redhead what 'appens to sods who don't know their place?"

Lance, hand still outstretched, grinned and nodded.

"Yer, that's the long and short of it."

Aurelianus' pupils narrowed to hairline slits in their beds of gold and amber.

"An' I 'ave your word that you ain't goin' to try and stop me? Not goin' to complain I'm goin' 'too far?'" he smirked, his tattooed head cocking to the side like a lizard watching an insect.

"Gods strike me down," Lance agreed eagerly, thinking himself a genius for coming up with this venture.

"We 'ave a deal," Aurelianus intoned, gripping lance's hand in his own.

There was a brief pinprick, the smallest sting as one of the rings on the tiefling's hand flowed outwards to form two slender spines. One pierced Lance's finger, the other Aurelius'. A single bead of blood emerged from each as the bulky human snatched his hand back, but it was enough. The deal was struck; the human's soul bound to its tenets.

Lance had just penned his own name in the dead-book.

"Well then cutter, you and your bloods are layin' 'ands on my property," he smiled, feeling the artful lacerations on his cheeks opening more.

Like a snake, the tiefling lashed out with his right hand. It was an open-handed blow, the heel of his palm whistling into the taller man's throat. Lance dropped like a stone, clutching at his bruised windpipe, eyes bulging with shock. He'd hadn't seen the hit coming, his airways closing before his senses could catch up. His men, too, were caught unaware. They stood gawping for a long moment before their hands snatched at their belts for weapons; the girls were dumped unceremoniously on the ground, one of them groaning and starting to regain consciousness. Aurelius would have commended the men's quick reactions but soon it wouldn't matter anyway.

Gimmel was at the back of one of them immediately, the murderer having ghosted around their flanks during the confusion. A curving scythe of bone slid from his forearm, pressing tightly across the throat of the slaver. Wisely, Briar dropped the blade in his hand and ceased struggling.

Elrik started to turn his head toward the ruckus, his hand pawing at his belt. But the hatchet he was reaching for wasn't where it should have been. His gaze started to spin back to his belt but before he could figure out just what was happening, he too felt the cold bite of steel against his throat.

"Easy now, friend. Don't give the bastard an excuse to make it worse on you, trust me."

Elrik finally managed to get a look at the man behind him - a Salvaran, his features handsome beneath sandy-blonde hair. The man wore tailored silks and held the slaver's gaze with eyes like chips of ice. Elrik's hatchet was held loosely in his other hand - though it was only a few inches from the thug it might as well have been a league away with the stiletto pressed against his skin.

Styr was one of the workers under Aurelius' roof that had refused fleshcrafting; he was a Crimson Hand assassin, talented, but his reputation for trying to butt heads with Aurelius was well-known. His right arm was exposed, the skin like melted tallow, hideously scarred by the tiefling's Hellfire. Everyone in the House knew Styr was soul-bound to display it always; a rebuke from the warlock for the assassin's hubris. The half-devil himself wondered how many of them realised Styr hadn't been punished for disobeying him, but for failing to do it better.

Hells, wonder if the uppity little prick's canny enough to know 'imself, he mused.

Still, his aid was an unexpected turn. Aurelius allowed him a casual nod of thanks but inside his brain-box the wheels were turning. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the scarred assassin for a while. Styr returned the gesture, cementing the suspicion in Aurelianus' mind. But that was a concern for later.

The horned brothel-master knelt before Lance, ignoring the commotion again and noting with amusement the darkened tone of the brawny bastard's face. He was coughing violently, struggling to hold off the blackening of his vision.

"As promised, cutter, your little girl there will 'ave a front row seat. I'll make sure she doesn't miss a 'eartbeat."

There was a momentary surge of dawning realisation on Lance's face before a vicious kick to his jaw laid him out cold on the floor. The small spikes on the hobnailed boots had ripped into the meat of the slaver's face and his blood steadily dribbled down to soak into his tunic.

Turning his attention finally to the crowd that had gathered to watch the entertainment, the razor-bedecked sadist raised his voice to cut through the clamour of his audience.

"Well now, which of you fine little deviants is in the mood for some pikin' entertainment?" he called, spreading his arms wide. Blood dropped from his arms across the unconscious human at his feet.

A raucous peal of cheering burst from the crowd. The House of Sin was never a place you could call dull, but impromptu displays from the proprietor were spoken of in awed tones by those who had witnessed them - they offered a vicarious taste of the depths and breadths of Aurelianus Drak'shal's dark thirsts.

"Styr, Gimmel, bring our new toys up front 'ere. Drag the big wank too."

The men were lined up, Lance pulled by his ankles to lie supine before the predator, watching in mute horror as he stalked around them once giving an appraising glance.

"Today, chits and cutters, we'll 'ave ourselves a wee auction."

A wave of whispering and excited chatter spread through the crowd. People of all shapes and sizes thronged the upper balconies and curving staircases, looking down on the clearing around the warlock. More came from the hallways to the sides of the open space, drawn by the noises.

"Four hundred crowns," came the excited bid from an androgynous elf wearing a delicate, silver domino mask and nothing else.

"'old up, 'old up!" Aurelius shouted, holding his hands up to silence the chorus of offers in various forms of currency. "Not that kind of auction."

That set another wave of chatter off.

"No, these fine slabs of meat you see before you are slavers. In my House!"

The flaming braziers around the room erupted into gouts of roaring, coiling Hellfire. Faces and other shapes writhed within the confines of those infernal flames, and the dual-nature of them meant they simultaneously darkened the room and cast lunatic shadows across the tapestry-covered walls. Some of the newer patrons of the brothel flinched away or cried out in panic but those who were regular denizens smiled all the more hungrily. The tiefling's blood was up, that much was clear.

"They want me to show 'em what 'appens when a body doesn't know 'is place. Think we can all agree 'ere, this ain't the place for their kind."

He pivoted smoothly on his heel and hammered an elbow into the bridge of Elrik's nose. The man went down in a spray of blood, but he didn't try to fight back. Styr's blade resting lightly on his shoulder may have had something to do with that. Instead, he sulkily held his grubby tunic against the ruined mess of his nose to soak up the blood oozing from it.

Aurelius marked Natalia returning from her appointed task as well; she moved to Amari's side, picking the scantily-clad girl up and setting her on her feet.

"I 'ope you're payin' attention 'ere luv," he smirked at Amari.

Chains and piercings brushing lightly against her scales, Natalia blew Aurelius a kiss as he turned back to his crowd.

This was where the tiefling felt most at ease; a roaring crowd looking for his guidance into depravity, and a crop of miserable sods new to his not-so-tender ministrations. The half-devil was a predator, perfectly adapted to the amoral society he found himself in. Breathing in the atmosphere, he allowed the tension to build for a moment. Savouring it, the half-demon finally gave the devotees of experience what they wanted most.

Free rein.

"Sing me your perversions; bid with your nastiest, most abhorrent fantasies," he called to them, his grin splitting his face wide. "The lucky bastard that can disgust us all the most, I'll 'and you a thousand in cold, 'ard jink an' I'll let you watch it 'appen to these poor cunts right 'ere."

If Elrik and Briar did try to offer protest, it was drowned out by the damned chorus of filth that erupted from the ranks of debauched degenerates.

[Mari]

The obstinate redhead stilled as she felt the man, clearly the owner of the establishment hover over her. As though inspecting her. She shot him a defiant glare. Be damned if I’ll let anyone break me, let along this smug bastard. His eyes briefly caught hers. He exhaled a plume of thick, purple smoke into her face and offered her an entertained grin. Amari breathed in parts of the noxious plume before snorting the rest away. She hadn’t a clue what it was, but didn’t like how it made her head feel heavy. Course, that could also be the boot that was grinding it into the dirtied floor. Gods know what kind of bodily fluids had seeped into the ground. Amari didn’t want to dwell on it. “Go ahead and fuckin’ try.” She spat as the pierced proprietor pulled away.

Amari didn’t have the greatest view, her head and eyes being pressed firmly to the floor - but she could see the dainty scaled feet of the redheaded woman slowly circling them. Amari felt like they had wandered into the wrong damn place and a bubbling sense of dread found its place in the pit of her stomach. She had a suspicion that they weren’t going to leave alive. That’s not what rattled her. What bothered her was what was going to happen before their demise.

Aurelianus approached Lance and his extended hand, repeating the terms slowly. Amari wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but even she managed to put two and two together. This wasn’t going to end well for Lance. “D-don’t! Too...Vague...” Amari tried to mutter, but his foot ground harder and Amari was forced to twist her face into the ground. Dammit...he’s going to fuck with us. This is just a game to him

The next moments were a blur, she felt the weight upon her head release as the pierced pale proprietor struck out at Lance. Despite her injuries and position Amari pushed herself up to her knees. She wiped the dirt, grime and spit from her face. Just as she was pushing herself onto unsteady feet she caught a whiff of a heady perfume. Slender scaled arms, glistening in the flickering light wrapped around Amari and helped her up.

Amari, startled whipped her head to come face to face with Natalia. Her breath caught in her throat. Amari wasn’t sure what Natalia was, other than gracious and alluring, with full lips and large glimmering emerald eyes- an anomaly to Amari. “I-uh…”

Natalia reached out and placed a clawed finger against Amari’s lips. “Shh.” she directed Amari’s attention to the commotion. “Watch.”

Amari turned her attention toward the scene before her. The man was addressing the crowds, who were no longer entwined in each other in deviant sexual acts. Well, most of them. Some still managed to fuck and cheer on the madman. Amari visibly shuddered as he mentioned an auction. Her first thought was that it had been intended for her, she took a step back but was halted by Natalia.

Watch She insisted.

Amari recoiled as Elrik was beaten, and his blood splayed across the bandits and the proprietors face. He turned to Amari "I 'ope you're payin' attention 'ere luv." Amari glared back.

“He’s….teaching me by punishing them?” She turned to Natalia who was focused on the scene before them, her long forked tongue darted out to lick sharp teeth. Amari furrowed her brow, clutching tightly to Natalia’s scaled arm. “He hates Slavers? So everyone here...is here of their own free will?”

“Yes, of course.” Natalia said, glancing down at Amari. Her eyes travelling down the exposed curves of her milky skin. She noticed Amari’s small hands ball into shaking fists. Natalia’s nostrils flared but she said nothing more, she merely offered Amari an almost predatory grin.

Amari let go of Natalia. She had the slightest nuance of respect for the man - having zero tolerance for slavers, but this place… this was not the place for her. Amari figured this would be the best time to make her exit. Even if she were to walk out of here completely naked, it’d be better than being tortured and killed. She took two steps backward before feeling the heat of another body.

“Stay, watch.” Natalia couldn’t hide the glee in her voice as she moved behind Amari. She snaked her arms under Amari’s and let them link just below her navel. Natalia held Amari fast to her body which shifted to a deeper scarlet. Her form pressed tightly against Amari’s back. Amari stilled, her heart raced as she felt the prickling sensation exposed skin against exposed skin. It was an entirely new sensation for her. Natalia felt warm, and Amari could feel the texture of the scales rubbing against her back, and the small pricks from the piercings that adorned her body. The soft mounds of her breasts. Amari wasn’t sure what to do. She stood still her heart threatening to burst from her chest. Natalia pressed her chin on Amari’s shoulder and continued to watch the scene unfold.

Soon, the patrons started naming their terms.

“Fuck ‘em with steel studded barbed wire dildos!” One cried out.

“Hellfire in their lungs.”

“Strap them down and force them to fuck each other.”

They started off relatively mild- Amari wasn’t able to pick them all out, but some seemed impossible.

“Craft vaginas into em!”

“Create another fucktoy!” One voice shouted, clear and loud above the rest. “ ‘Ave em constantly fuckin’ each other - every step a thrust into their pert asses. ‘Ave em always wantin’ more. Their bodies entwined around each other. Don’t let em ever cum!”

“‘Ave them limbless!”

“Nah! Replace their limbs with cocks!”

“Sew their eyes shut!”

“Put their eyes on the tip of their dicks!”

They seemed to feed off each others ideas.

Amari shuddered and pressed herself further back into Natalia’s gentle grasp, recoiling from some of the suggestions. She shook her head.

“I wish they knew what it felt like…” Amari muttered as others shouted out heinous act after heinous act. “Being touched against your permission...by their filthy hands. It feels like maggots crawl beneath your skin. Just once..I wish they knew what it felt like - to be defiled by themselves. Maybe it’d wipe their shit eating grins off their faces.” Amari muttered bitterly.

Natalia laughed, melodic and amused with dark humour. Her breath prickled the back of Amari’s neck, and Amari instantly regret her words. Quickly realising that everything said here, could very well be taken literally.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The suggestions and demands from the braying crowd only grew in intensity as the minutes stretched on.

Twice Aurelius tried to raise his arms for quiet, but he had riled the coiled beasts in each of his patrons and their filth flowed freely from their mouths. Natalia kept Amari close by, not letting the abused chit turn her gaze from what was about to happen. She alone in the cavernous foyer flinched away from the horrific requests; every other soul under the roof crowded closer, took the obscenities their neighbour barked, fed upon them and screamed their own immoral prayers to the Priest of Debauchery.

"Feed them their own shit! Feed them animal shit, then make 'em eat each other's!"

"Emasculate the bastards with rusty shears!"

The tiefling had chuckled at that one. An oldie, but always a goodie.

Inevitably, there were those in the crowd with less restraint than was smart. Some more daring souls tried to rush at the men themselves - most likely newcomers to the House, judging by the size of their mistake. Two of them, a swarthy Kachuk dwarf and a tattoo-riddled Braean sailor, broke from the crowd with hungry leers etched on their bestial faces. Gimmel made to intercept them but the horned monster he called master beat him to it.

Aurelius didn't move from where he stood. He didn't have to.

Turning his inhuman gaze on the ones trying to ruin his fun, the half-demon drew in a deep breath. As he drew on eldritch abilities he had bartered for years ago, his eyes rolled back in their sockets leaving nothing on show but glossy black. His throat swelled obscenely, straining at the tight, high collar of his armour. With a harrowing glare he opened his mouth impossibly wide, jaw stretching like a feeding snake. From within his throat erupted a torrent of writhing insects, a thick swarm that spewed over the pair of luckless bastards. In the flickering firelight the crowd could at first only perceive it as an amorphous, roiling mass of glossy colours, like oil on water. The front rows of the gathering moved back as quickly as they could, creating a scrum among the depraved watchers.

The thrashing mass bit, stung, and burrowed under the flesh of their victims while they screamed hideously and dropped to the ground. They flailed wildly, but there were too many insects, too many mandibles and legs and stingers bringing fevered heat and countless shades of agony to their skin. Beetles the size of thumbs tore into soft, yielding eyelids; maggot-like creatures latched on to exposed skin and vomited their foul loads into blood-streams; slick invertebrates with legs too numerous to count found orifices that were warm and damp enough to their liking, and began to chew their way into them.

After a minute of shrieking wails, the men were granted reprieve when the swarm died off almost as one. Husks of insects fell to the floor before instantly beginning to rot away. The more that died, the more everyone gathered could see the swollen, pulsing ruin of the dwarf's and human's skin. They tried to gurgle for mercy through swollen throats but Aurelianus had already turned his attention away from them the moment Merihim's Breath wore off.

Finally, he had managed to catch the attention of the crowd. They quietened; slowly, but eventually the din was low enough that Aurelianus could talk audibly again.. if you ignored the wet, rasping breaths of the two sods oozing on his floor.

"Now," he started, his tone warning against any further such ill-considered attempts. "Seein' as you lot of little pikin' perverts can't seem to agree on what to do with our guests--"

He paused for a moment, letting the tension build a little.

"I say we take 'em on a tour of my House. Every. Single. Room."

No-one, as far as it was known, had done such an endurance trial before. The assembled perverts and hedonists roared their approval. Some may have felt cheated of their coin, but none would dispute this to be ample recompense.

Clapping his hands loudly in front of his chest, a hungry smile on his features, the tiefling rubbed his palms together excitedly.

"Let's get started."

***

It lasted days.

Lance and his companions had spent every hour since that proclamation being torn into and apart over and over again. The three men had been used for every conceivable act and then more foul depravity had been unleashed upon them. They had been violated in the truest sense of the word and subjected to the darkest recesses of perversion, by a seemingly endless procession of nightmares made manifest. They had been fed faeces; they had been brutally raped by groups of the largest and most vicious cutters Aurelius could muster up on short notice (a simple task in his little fiefdom). They had choked on the unwashed genitals forced down their throats.

Men and women had vied for the chance to scour the slaver's backs with steel-tipped lashes, or brand them with cherry-red tools. Animals had been led in to violate the men's openings while the faceless mass of the hungry crowd jeered and laughed at them, calling for yet more suffering. Fingers, implements and even entire hands explored their cavities. They were spat on, pissed on, if they vomited they were made to clean it up with their tongues - after four days under these eaves, there were few sick fantasies that had not been explored.

Each room of the House of Sin leaned towards its own particular brand of vice and not everyone could survive a tour physically or mentally intact. Briar sat as a mute reminder of that to Lance and Elrik, his glassy eyes still seeming to follow them from the side of their performances. Their own little mascot and memento mori. His mind had given out after the white-skinned devil split him open to the navel, parting flesh and bone in maddening ways without a drop of blood being shed. The gaping maw of raw meat left in its place had been as abused as the rest of him by the first hour of its unfurling. But Briar was gone by that point – at least, lance and Elrik prayed he had been - drooling down his own chin; he was just a receptacle for whatever waste or filth anyone wished to put in him.

His body was perched almost upright, arms and legs fused solid by Aurelius' fleshcrafting. His elbows and knees folded backwards, torso aligned to make the former-human almost perfect height to be used as a seat. His lower jaw had been ripped away leaving just a flapping length of tongue, and even as the remaining two slavers watched, a thick-set Orc mounted the human's face and with a smile for them, she shat directly into the wet, gaping hole in Briar's throat.

The smell barely made a dent in the reek of the Salvaran slavers, their sense of smell virtually deadened at this point. Secretly, Lance hoped his sense of taste was the next to go.

Despite his best efforts, Elrik couldn't help vomiting over himself from where he knelt on the floor. He spat to clear the taste before a vicious knee smashed into his left eye. He didn't see it coming through the congealed fluids in his eyes and even if he had, he lacked the strength to resist. He dragged his gaze up and of course, that fucking lunatic was lurking over him, that perpetual grin plastered smugly across his abominable face. The ever-present crowd cackled at the sight of the desecrated body trying to get back up. He could feel blood seeping from where the barbs of his tormentor's armour had opened his face.

Another drop in the bucket. His shoulder also bore fresh wounds from where the corrugated metal grid that was the floor abraded his back and shoulders.

The man was unable to move from where he had fallen, owing less to exhaustion and more to the fact his and his friend's bones had been fused together, 'so he didn't squirm 'round while the tiefling worked'. Not even completely, as he and Lance had discovered. They could still move a little, but every attempt to do so meant the spurs and splinters of bone lacerated their bodies more from the inside.

His elbows jutted at random angles through his flesh, jagged shards of bone showing where they had been forced together by vile arcana. So too, his knees. And his back, forced into a deep arc, keeping his neck constantly strained against the forceful grip Aurelius took of his head.

Never before had Elrik Svarond hated anyone or anything as much as he hated Aurelianus Drak'shal.

Aurelius had of course overseen every single moment of their torment personally, refusing to sleep while there was more to teach them. The slavers who had been addled enough to bang around in his establishment, his domain. He was teaching them as surely as he was teaching Amari. The lessons were different and yet the same, but Aurelianus Drak'shal didn't much care if either party understood. He had agreed to illuminate the pale-skinned little doll, and Gods Below, wasn't he doing just that?

The girl had been kept by Natalia's side for the entirety of it. The half-devil sadist didn't want her trying to escape and besides that, he'd noticed Nat was fond of the curious little morsel. As long as Amari saw what he was showing her, he didn't much care if Natalia kept the girl afterwards. They were whispering to each other, but the blood pounding through his ears drowned out any actual words.

Stalking around the pair once again, apparently unable to stop himself now he had cut loose, the half-breed panted and muttered to himself; his hands tore and reshaped, penetrated and reshaped the Salvarans' bodies at his whim. He had done so dozens of times over the sleepless days before, helping denizens of the House to bring their visions to life.

But now? Oh, what he was doing now was his own inspiration.

His attention seemed focussed on Elrik at the moment, Lance being held down by Gimmel while the same naked elf from earlier, still wearing his domino mask, slowly forced a cast-iron harness in place around the man's waist. He thrashed around uselessly, causing more damage to himself in the long run. But then, he had come to terms with the fact he no longer had a 'long term'. Gimmel beckoned to one of Aurelius' other workers, and together they threaded chains through loops around the edges of the metal belt. These in turn went through pulleys leading up the walls and along the ceiling.

Aurelianus, sweat sheening on his horned brow, glanced at Amari again, eyes shining with feverish light from the dark circles ringing them.

“You still markin' this, luv?” His voice was hoarse and dry. He hadn't eaten since he started, and as far as anyone knew he hadn't had a drink either. Whispers circulated about his endurance, about how twitchy and wired he seemed despite the lack of sustenance.

His grin widened as he forced his thumbs through the yielding flesh of Elrik, his mocking laughter rising over the ragged screams. The warlock's hands slid deeper, finally stopping when they gripped handfuls of bone. It moved around the half-devil's fingers like molten wax and with savage delight, he started forcing Elrik's skull into a new shape.

“Nearly over now,” he hissed, though he had promised the men that several times. Just to watch the hope die in their eyes when they saw the lie.

This time, though, he was speaking to Amari.

Turning his unhinged brain-box back to the task at hand, Aurelius grit his teeth as he worked. It took considerable effort to wrench and shape the bone to his specification without killing the man under his Art. But, painstakingly, slowly, his vision became reality.

This was the tiefling's real drug. Reforming reality with just his will to define limits. It was a heady draught and as he eventually stepped back from his subject, he revelled in the feeling.

The crowd whispered and tittered amongst themselves, hugging the edges of the bare, cold room. They had joined in with boundless enthusiasm, but they could sense their benefactor working towards his finale. They watched quietly, even some of the extremist regulars worn out by the smorgasbord of vile acts they'd witnessed. Over the course of the days more and more had drifted off or left for fear of seeing more.

Elrik continued to scream, thrashing on the spot despite the way his joints tore and wept red. His head had been forced into a shape like a triangular pyramid, albeit rough and uneven. His eyes had been forced to the sides of the grotesque wedge of bone, one of them rolling blindly, the fluid tinged pink. His mouth wrapped around one edge of the bizarre horror, turning his pathetic mewling into strangled laments.

Of course, there were various contraptions in other rooms similar – Guided Cradles, as some called them. But this one was screaming and writhing; this one was alive.

Another trickle of spectators lost their nerve and drifted out of the room, but there remained a respectable gathering to the tiefling's eyes. He smiled at the sight of their dark thirsts, clear in their every breath.

Turning finally back to Lance, the addle-cove that had led himself and his friends into this Hell, the fleshcrafter snatched one of the chains from his worker. Taking the strain, the tiefling and his blind pain-artist jerkily dragged Lance into the air. The third worker, Baru, darted over to the wall and (awkwardly, with his barbed palms) started cranking a winch to swing the feeble human into the centre of the room, directly in front of his torturer.

Lance had taken the brunt of the tiefling's attentions and was at this point barely conscious, but as soon as he marked where he was heading, he started sobbing desperately. He was suspended in the air, while his former brother-in-arms tried to force out screams below him with a misshapen mouth.

“Please,” Lance choked out, saliva stringing thickly from his lower lip. “Please stop. Just kill me—us. Just.. please...”

He broke down into more fitful sobbing. Aurelianus leaned in close, nostrils quivering as he drank deep of the smell of fear and anguish pouring off the man before him.

“Tsk tsk, basher,” Aurelius smiled through his teeth, “an' 'ere I thought we 'ad a deal.”

Lance's head whipped up, eyes wide and fearful – not just a normal fear but a true, soul-deep terror. Aurelius had told him what breaking the agreement meant. Almost hysterical by now, he made to take the words back. But it was too late for that.

His soul was Aurelianus' now.

Before he could say anything else, the tiefling slid around beside him, one pale hand gripping Lance's jaw and forcing his eyes towards Amari. Aurelius saw them make eye contact, and right at that most perfect moment, he released the chain in his hands. Gimmel and Baru similarly released their grips and Lance dropped the few feet to land, naked and torn, on top of Elrik's malformed cranium.

His violent scream of sheer agony suddenly sputtered into a bizarre wet clicking. Aurelianus almost doubled up laughing as he realised the sorry prick's vocal chords had torn. Elrik still screamed and begged from beneath, scraping himself raw against the rough floor.

The sudden burst of genuine mirth revitalised Aurelianus a little, and he decided it was time to finish this.

“Well cutter,” the brothel-master smiled warmly, “cheers for that. Not 'ad this much fun in months. But tell me, mate, you think she's learned what 'appens when a body don't know 'is place?”

His hand pressed deeply into Lance's abdomen and with a surge of preternatural willpower, the warlock dragged the fat from Lance's body, forcing it to flow beneath the skin in ugly gelatinous growths. It pooled around his waist, worming into his thighs; forcing his weight down more. His upper torso and arms looked like those of a desiccated corpse, skin tight against bone and muscle.

Blood started running down his dangling legs, trickling from his twitching feet.

Elrik groaned, gritting teeth that had been forced out of place by his deformation until several cracked from the strain. Sharp stabs of acidic pain danced through his body as more and more weight crushed the solid mass of fused vertebrae in his neck. But if he thought that was the worst of it, he was sorely mistaken.

Lance continued to descend until finally the majority of Elrik's head had been consumed in his ravaged and torn orifice. Elrik, now unable to breathe, started to twist and try to pull himself free but his misery ended when his neck finally snapped under the strain. The body was still unable to go limp.

Lance, unbalanced from the violation of his body, the way his persecutor had hollowed all trace of fat from his upper body, tipped over and hit the steel grill of the floor hard enough to knock teeth loose. The few he had left from his less tender lovers over the past days.

He was-- he had been a fighter. Lance Dvostaya had killed men in combat. He had suffered and dealt wounds. He knew which ones would kill and how quickly. As the tiefling's hobnailed boots stalked into his line of sight, Lance knew Aurelius had come to the same conclusion.

“You're good as in the dead-book, cutter. All's left now is the waitin'. I reckon you've got a few hours, maybe another night.”

The half-devil, lit from behind by the warm glow of a fireplace, hung over Lance. His eyes glinted in the firelight, and as his lips peeled back over serrated fangs, his teeth were like polished ivory.

“But don't you worry, I'm not a complete bastard. I'll leave Elrik 'ere to keep you company.”

***

The remaining voyeurs filed out quietly, all of them slipping off to find a drink, a drug, some form of oblivion to deaden their senses for a few days. The fire was extinguished, the door to the chamber was locked, leaving Lance's weak sobs to fade in the dark.

Aurelius leaned against the wall of the corridor, wiping sweat from his neck and closing his eyes for a few moments. He could feel the accumulated grime of four days torture across his skin, and as he gave himself a cursory inspection he noted with satisfaction the tatters of Lance, Elrik and Briar clinging to his sadistic armour. Natalia led Amari to him and the tiefling let his eyes lock on her's.

“So 'ow about you, luv? Learned a valuable lesson I 'ope?”

His smile was utterly without warmth.

[Mari]

Amari shrank back into Natalia as the demon before her grinned coldly. Blood dripped from his forehead and face, and his pointed teeth glimmered amidst the fire and sweat. Tatters of flesh clung to his form and Amari knew he revel in it. Seeing what he was capable of? That was torture in and of itself, seeing his attentions now placed on her? It terrified Amari.

Amari felt she should say something to him, anything but few words came. Amari had barely slept, barely eaten and had thrown up any contents her stomach once had. Goosebumps had formed on her exposed skin as the man took another step closer.

"Aye, what's the matter luv? Cat got 'er tongue?"

Amari pursed her lips, she could feel Natalia lightly running her hands up and down her arms and the feeling whilst comforting did little to alleviate the fear that Amari felt just from being near this man. Amari took a deep breath trying to steel herself, she licked dry lips and finally spoke. "Don't fuck with you, or your business." Amari finally said.

There was hesitation before her next words, she was almost afraid of the answer but not knowing was worse. "What... do you plan on doing with me?" Despite the clear suspicion in her tone and the anxiety that warbled her words Amari met Aurelianus' pitiless black gaze with her own blazing golden gaze.

Amari felt a new wave of panick wash over her as she felt Natalia step away, the warmth of her scaled skin was already missed. Amari blinked, pulling her gaze from Aure's to give the other redheaded woman a questioning gaze, but Amari couldn't read the look on Natalia's face. Natalia approached Aurelianus and began to lovingly wipe the sweat and blood from his face, a fruitless endeavour for her clawed talons drew across his skin, creating small cuts.

Amari took a tentative step back, feeling exposed, helpless and utterly terrified. Despite all these feelings swirling within her Amari stared Aurelianus down. She wrapped her arms around her lithe waist in an effort to stop her own trembling. She was afraid, but she was steadfast.

"Everyone is h-here of their own volition, I choose to l-leave."