Fire and Ice - Vol. 1 - Lord Bent's Manor
Commissum
Episode one: Fire and Ice
A Lord Bent’s Manor story.
96,641 words
© Commissum, 2023
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
First edition - version 1.0
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Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. The story depicts an alternative invented reality and timeline. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. None of the events depicted in the story are actual events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: This work contains explicit depictions of a sexual nature, along with strong language. Various ‘triggering’ incidents are described, including rape, slavery, interspecies sexual contact and others. If happenings of this nature offend you, don’t read this book. Consider yourself warned.
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Acknowledgements: Special thanks to my early proof readers. Their help in finding errors and other issues is greatly appreciated. Lending their help with this volume: Zom & Cei-mel.
Constructive feedback and comments are always welcome. Thank you, Commissum
Map:
Chapter One:
Peter Bentencourt staggered and almost collapsed from transfer fatigue as he stumbled through the rift doorway connecting Earth to this magical realm of Kreven.
“Fuck! It’s cold!” he muttered, dropping to one knee from the sudden dizziness caused by the rapid loss of so much of his reserves. He gasped in a few quick, deep breaths trying to regain his strength and focus.
Like all crossings, he arrived naked, as bringing through clothing, or any material foreign to his body, depleted more of his physical strength and vastly-more-precious life energy. As the dizziness passed, the headache began throbbing and he rubbed his forehead with his left hand. His right hand still clenched tightly to the wrought iron chain trailing off behind him and extending through the still-active portal.
If he released the chain the linkage of his will to the open rift would break, causing it to close instantly and strand his cargo back on the Earth. Peter gritted his teeth and hung on stubbornly. If he failed now he would waste more time and end up burning even more strength and life force heading back across for a second attempt. Better to see the task done now.
As he hung on, he tried to mentally regain the energy needed to finish the task. It would be worse tonight, as he was bringing through a larger-than-normal load. In doing so, he could easily exceed his own considerable abilities, depleting his strength and life energies to very-dangerous levels. And, while the former recharged quickly with simple rest and sustenance, recovering the latter required time and extra effort. Speaking of that extra effort, where the hell was Miranda?
He recovered enough strength to stand and slowly inspected the dark, nearly empty portal chamber. The stone room which housed the rift anchor point was located below his manor house in what had once been a small, twisting, natural cavern. It had since been enlarged into a larger, dungeon-like chamber, but that hard work had occurred long before he had found and claimed Cursed Island for his manor home. And despite his research, all information on whoever had first located the rift anchorage and constructed the enlarged chamber had evaded him.
The only lighting in the portal chamber came from a pair of candles guttering in two wall sconces located to each side of the curving stone stairs leading up to the manor above. The lack of flowing wax on the candles meant that Miranda must have lit them only recently. This confirmed that she had at least received his earlier telepathic message announcing his pending arrival. Apparently, he’d been delayed long enough back on Earth that the busy woman had been unable to remain waiting.
Peter next spotted the small elixir vial lying on the floor just in front of where he stood. His assistant had thoughtfully attempted to provide for her absence by leaving him some means of recovery. Still retaining his grip on the chain, Peter took one step forward to where the vial lay atop the inscribed runes marking the center of the stone floor. In doing so, he triggered the magical tripwire alarm he’d left guarding the portal chamber. The alarm’s activation caused a pulse of light followed by a short, clear audible tone that echoed off the hewn rock walls of the portal chamber. The same tone could be faintly heard coming down the stairs from the rooms above as the warning propagated across his manor. His assistant, or one of his other ‘staff members’ would be along shortly.
He stooped and picked up the vial clumsily with his free left hand. It looked like one of his standard simple restorative potions. Although it was hard to tell in the flickering candlelight, the vial’s wax seal looked intact. Peter then squinted and found the tiny secret dot imprint he always added to the bottom edge of the wax seal. This had indeed come from his stores. Finally, he gave the vial and seal a sniff but only detected the smells of his usual ingredients. Did he dare assume that Miranda had left the vial and not someone less trustworthy?
With the fatigue of his recent transport and with his life essence still slowly dropping from maintaining the active portal for his cargo, Peter decided to risk it. He carefully bit through the seal and worked the stopper off with his teeth, letting both fall to the floor. It occurred to him belatedly that dabbing poison onto the unopened vial would have done him in just then as surely as mixing it into the vial’s contents. His fatigue was making him paranoid.
The contents of the vial still smelled normal so he took a sip. He almost instantly felt the rush of the magically-fortified potion sweeping through his body. Peter waited a moment for any odd reactions and after feeling none, downed the remainder. If he had chosen poorly, he’d just have to get his revenge after his eventual rebirth in Rhecate’s phoenix egg hatchery, assuming the half-crazy witch still held to their pact and resurrected him.
Now feeling somewhat restored, Peter turned to face the portal. He gave the chain a hard tug and, as he expected, it barely budged. This was due to a combination of the weight of the two caged bodies on the other end and the transfer resistance of the magical rift itself. He strained briefly once more before giving up with another curse. Back on the Earth side of the portal, Peter had used an overhead electric trolley to get the cages into position. Here, where magic ensured that such technology could not function, he’d have to rely on magic or simple brute physical force.
To make matters worse, with his current fatigue, more magic was not an option. And, because he had to maintain his grip on the chain, Peter was unable to reach the heavy rope and capstan bolted to the floor behind him. He had no choice but to wait for the assistance of Miranda or his mountain troll slave Klup. Hopefully, one of them had heard the alarm and would arrive soon, before Peter grew too weak to continue holding the rift open.
Peter heard the sounds of the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs creaking open. Finally, someone was on the way. He listened closely and didn’t hear the ‘click … click’ of Klup’s claws on the stone steps. This meant that the newcomer must be Miranda, or possibly it might be Tevi, although Peter doubted that the half-night-elf girl would be indoors after dark.
“I’m coming, Lord Bent!” Miranda called out. “I’m sorry for not being here when you arrived but I had to tend to my duties.”
Here on Cursed Island and in the lands surrounding Mirror Lake, Peter was known as Lord Bent. Miranda usually called him by his title, even in private. Her comment about her duties reminded Peter that his manor was still short-staffed. It had been two months since poor little Rosie had been killed and he’d yet to find a replacement.
Miranda emerged into the chamber carrying a bundle of clothing. Peter licked his lips as he saw that she was also clutching a small jug of cider. His eyes then noticed the young woman’s heaving breasts under her tightly cinched homespun housecoat and he felt his body’s other current wants. It had been a long, lonely week back on Earth and he was in need of relief. Miranda looked a bit haggard but was still very pretty even at this late hour. Her cheeks were glowing which meant that she had likely just finished bathing. More the better, Peter thought.
Miranda approached Peter and knelt on the hard stone floor in front of him in supplication. While she was on her knees, she assisted Peter in donning his favorite pair of leather-soled house slippers. Once his feet were insulated from the cold stone, she embraced his upper thighs, her warm cheek brushing against his currently cold-shrunken penis.
“I am glad you are back, my lord,” she whispered with a surprising amount of emotion. “Klup is coming to assist us with the cage.”
“Cages,” Peter corrected the woman, who he amusingly referred to as his executive officer or XO for short. “We will be bringing across two captives.”
“Two women? I thought only one seed was ready.”
“The second is a male … her pimp, I think. He surprised me when I was trying to subdue the target woman.”
“Is he still alive?” Miranda asked, standing and handing him the jug.
“Yes …” Peter replied before taking a big swig of the fortified cider. Miranda had heated it for him and the warmth of it hitting his belly was soothing.
“But both of them are still heavily sedated,” he continued, after a second pull from the jug. “I can’t hold this portal open much longer. We’ll have to begin before Klup gets here. Go fetch the rope … quickly!”
Miranda took the jug and set it and the bundle of clothing aside before scampering over to retrieve the rope as he had commanded. She had to pull hard to unspool it as the rusty capstan resisted turning. He’d need to have Hamm service and oil it soon. Finally, she had gotten it close enough that Peter could slip its hook over a link in the chain.
Miranda ran back to the capstan and began to slowly crank in the rope. Peter turned to face the portal and began pulling the chain with both hands. Working together they began to make slow but steady progress. They had managed to pull through just enough chain to expose the first cage when Klup came bounding down the stone stairs.
“Klup comes! Klup comes!” the she-troll bellowed as she entered the room.
The hairy, seven-foot-tall mountain troll moved in front of Peter and began pulling hand over hand. Peter stopped exerting himself but remained in contact with the chain as it was the conduit connecting his magic-infused will to the still-active portal. As he watched the troll laboring, he noticed that she looked much more gravid than she had when he’d last seen her. He’d read that troll pups grew quickly but now he saw the proof before him.
“How long until your pups are born?” He asked the she-troll.
“More … one moon … maybe … two moons,” Klup managed to grunt out.
Peter was surprised. Mountain troll pups did apparently quicken much faster than their more-diminutive forest cousins which he was more familiar with. He recalled when Klup had gotten impregnated just two months ago. The she-troll had been in her normal late-fall heat when a boar troll passing through the area on the mainland had somehow caught Klup’s scent all the way out here on the island.
Following it back, the lust-crazed boar-troll had braved Mirror Lake and managed to swim out to the island, evading both Peter’s magical wards and the defensive guardian trees planted along the beach. The horny troll had searched out and eventually found his quarry. Peter had found the pair after the male had finished inseminating Klup but while he was still locked to the she-troll by his still-swollen penile knot. Peter had been in such a rage at the time and he had ordered Tevi to put a poisoned arrow into the trapped boar-troll’s eye socket, causing it to quickly fall unconscious.
The reason for Peter’s anger had not simply been the unplanned mating of his slave. No, the reason was far worse. Before the boar-troll had found Klup, it had stumbled across poor little Rosie out picking late fall berries. The large barb-headed cock of the lust-filled troll had ripped the poor tender girl’s insides out moments after it had begun fucking her. She’d died screaming long before the troll had climaxed. And then, to heap further insult upon injury, the troll had fed on the girl’s remains before it continued hunting for Klup.
After the boar-troll’s swollen knot had deflated enough for the still-dazed Klup to crawl away and lick her own hurts, Peter, still very pissed off, had consumed one of his valuable magical potions and incinerated the sleeping male troll on the spot. Klup would not speak to him for weeks after the attack, not because he’d killed the male, but due to the shame she felt for her heat causing the boar to come to the island resulting in Rosie’s death. Peter eventually convinced the troll that he did not blame her but he had to be careful around her.
“How many pups?” Peter asked the toiling troll next.
His words had been ragged as he was now enduring the mental strain caused by the magical resistance of the first iron cage traveling through the portal. This was the one containing the larger male pimp. Peter noticed that the heavily-tattooed lean man was awake and struggling weakly in the cage. The drugs must be wearing off or the man was so used to opioids that he had built up a higher tolerance.
“Mir … hear many pups,” Klup grunted.
Peter looked to his XO who held up four fingers. That number was apparently beyond Klup’s ability to remember. Miranda had once been a nurse back on Earth before she’d lost her job due to her addictions and before Peter had brought her here. Of course, she would be keeping track of the she-troll’s pregnancy. Peter wondered for a moment how having newborn troll pups around the manor would affect Miranda after the loss of her own infant child back on Earth. Another potential problem to worry about. First, he had to take care of tonight’s cargo.
The mental strain eased slightly as the first cage fully emerged from the portal. The lean, muscular, and naked pimp had his eyes open but was still too drugged to comprehend that a hairy monster was pulling his cage. Peter noticed that the pimp’s impressively long but narrow cock was dragging between the bands of the cage and the stone floor. Ouch! He thought, wincing in sympathy. The man’s cock skin was torn and bleeding and if it had not been for the drugs, Peter knew he’d be hearing cries of pain. Thankfully for him, the Pupadominus plant would heal the pimp soon enough. Too bad it would destroy most of his mind in the process.
The second cage gradually emerged through the rift and slid into the chamber. This one held his original quarry and the reason for his week-long trip back to Earth. It was a young methamphetamine-using Caucasian woman who had been addicted long enough to become gaunt and covered with sores.
Peter was male enough to stare as more of the naked but sickly women appeared through the rift. Her scab-covered legs and bruised upper thighs were followed by her stubble-covered groin. Peter noted that despite her tightly closed legs, the young woman was malnourished enough that her cunt could easily be seen in the gap between her closed thighs. He could only imagine the filth and disease which filled the woman’s clearly-overused and abused snatch.
Next came her torso with its bruised pronounced ribs. These were topped by two small and flabby breasts. One breast bled where Peter had torn the foreign-body piercing from her nipple. Finally, the girl’s face and head were revealed. Like her ribs, her face was also bruised but thankfully there was no black eye. The woman’s stringy hair was dirty and thankfully cropped short. Peter noted with thanks that the woman was still fully unconscious. This would make what came next much easier and quieter.
“Pull hard now, Klup!” Peter ordered.
He had stuffed the top empty portion of the short girl’s wrought iron cage with a large bundle of trade goods and spices. Despite being as natural as possible, many of these had enough traces of technology in their manufacture or preparation that bringing them through to this magical world would be the most difficult part of the transfer.
He gritted his teeth as he felt the rift fighting back against his will. He also felt the draining of his life essence increase substantially.
“PULL!” Peter yelled, causing Klup to rear back with all the troll’s might. There was a surge as the last of the cage popped through. The rift rippled like a stone dropped into a pond and the strain in his mind eased. With nothing remaining to come through, Peter let the portal rift collapse. He staggered once again as he dealt with the aftermath of the sudden depletion of his life force.
“My lord!” his XO exclaimed as she rushed to support him.
It took a moment before Peter was able to respond.
“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Please fetch my clothes and the cider jug.”
Miranda rushed to comply, quickly helping him dress in loose hand-spun cotton trousers and the short manor robe he preferred indoors. Once he was dressed, he directed Miranda to unshackle the iron cages from the chain, as the bolts and pins were too complicated for Klup to manage on her own. Miranda also retrieved the trade good package from the addicted girl’s cage before relocking it.
“Klup,” Peter ordered when Miranda was finished. “Take the two cages to the Death plant room. Leave the cages just inside the door and then guard them. I will be along soon. Do not get too close to the Death plant, understand?”
The she-troll grunted in assent and easily hoisted the heavier pimp’s cage up onto her shoulder. Peter was again reminded that she-trolls were fucking strong!
“Miranda,” he said more quietly after the troll had departed. “Help me to my study. I will need to draw on you there as I don’t think I can make it up to my solar. And, even if I did somehow manage to make it to my bed, I fear that I would pass out if I lay down.”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied, slipping her arm around him.
With her support, they climbed the twisting stone stairway leading up into the manor above. Once on the main level, Peter appreciated the warmth and noted that both main fireplaces in the central gallery were lit. He was impressed that Miranda had been so thoughtful.
“I’m so weak that I fear I will have to draw on you heavily tonight, my pet. I am sorry,” Peter said.
“As you will,” the woman simply responded, unconcerned.
Peter knew the woman well enough to realize that she was sincere. She would give her life willingly if that was what her master required. She led the way into his study and spoke the simple incantation which caused the three fae-lamp globes to come alight, bathing the room in a soft, warm, yellow glow.
He collapsed into his overstuffed leather-covered reading chair and watched as Miranda quickly assembled a fire in the study’s hearth. She used the small twig of asphestus wood to start the fire quickly. The magical asphestus tree was native to Kreven and its wood self-ignited upon friction with other objects. It also possessed the ability to burn for days without consuming itself thus making it reusable.
A few minutes later Miranda’s soft touch awakened Peter who had nodded off where he sat. His eyes came open to see her kneeling at his feet on the thick fur of his Kraglion-pelt rug. His robe had already been opened and she was tugging down his light trousers. Somehow, he found the strength to lift his hips enough to assist her in exposing his cock.
As she worked, Miranda spoke, “Take as much from me as you require, my Lord. In case I pass out, you should know that Gerston is due to arrive tomorrow. Also, the journal in my bed chamber has a complete schedule for your manor for the next month.”
He just nodded in response, too tired to speak. Gerston was a dwarf and also a business associate. He was the trader who supplied Peter with raw cast and forged metals, and often precious gems. Peter also noted that by reminding him of her journal, his XO was attempting to account for the possibility that he would draw too much from her and end her life. Her devotion touched him enough that he vowed to not let that happen.
Once his trousers were at his feet, Miranda took his deflated cock in hand and guided it into her mouth. Peter sighed as her warm, soft wetness engulfed his glans. She increased the suction until the bulk of his penis was drawn into her mouth. Even in his current state of fatigue, he felt his cock quickly swelling as her suction forcefully pulled blood into his member. Before he became too engorged, she even swallowed his spongy length down her throat for a few moments.
Her throat’s repeated swallowing motions had him becoming fully erect very quickly and she had to quickly back off lest she choke. She recovered and began a steady bobbing action, her lips aided by her right hand firmly milking the base of his shaft. Peter laid his head back as he groaned from the powerful sensations of pleasure he was experiencing. Before he could forget himself, Miranda took her free hand and guided his up to the back of her head, reminding him that he had to properly complete the ritual before he erupted.
Peter clasped her head with both hands, massaging her scalp and guiding her motions in order to bring himself to orgasm as quickly as possible. He was also considerate enough to not attempt to force his now-fully erect cock down her throat again, as his girth was far too much for her to manage without extreme discomfort. Miranda’s suctioning action increased as she sensed his orgasm approaching. Her tongue began swirling around and under his glans rapidly and her left hand began to fondle his distended testicles.
“Oh shit!” Peter moaned as his orgasm arrived. At the last second, he remembered to incant the words needed to begin the transference ritual. As he spoke the words, he began applying firm pressure to her skull as he forced his will upon hers. He was careful to not cause her physical pain as tonight’s ritual required only pleasure, even if the bulk of it was his. Peter spoke the final word as his orgasm arrived and ejaculate began spraying down her gullet. Despite his caution, Peter’s glans slipped into her throat and he felt her swallowing furiously trying to keep up with his pent-up semen flow.
While still in the throes of his climax, the ritual triggered, and he felt the rush as her life essence began draining from her and into him. As she weakened, she let her head droop to lie on his thigh but remained suckling on his cock as she faded. As Peter’s last spasms finished, and with much of his life force restored, he halted the ritual, stopping the transfer of her essence hopefully before inflicting any permanent harm.
Peter watched his XO carefully for a moment. Her suckling motions had ceased but she continued breathing steadily. He felt her neck and found a strong pulse. Good, she would live. He gently pulled his cock out of her mouth and stood. He then gathered up his now-unconscious servant into his arms and carried her over to the divan by the window. After he got her positioned comfortably, Peter covered her sleeping form with the lap quilt he kept on the stand near the chair. She could sleep here until she recovered which would likely be sometime late in the morning.
Peter wished he could take Miranda up to his bedroom now and join her in slumber, letting sleep finish restoring his energy the natural way, but he still had his captives to tend to. With that in mind, he went to his desk and reread his notes on his previous uses of the Pupadominus plant. He then updated his journal, adding details of his recent actions back on Earth. He added from memory the weights of the two humans he’d recorded with his digital scale before he’d caged their naked bodies.
Finally, Peter was ready to go to work. Before he went to the conservatory where the Pupadominus plant was kept, Peter retrieved a stronger restorative elixir from his magically-secured storage alcove. This one was much more powerful than the simple one Miranda had left for him earlier. After quaffing the potent restorative, he felt fully restored, maybe even stronger than he’d felt back on Earth. Last, he traded his manor slippers for a pair of leather boots, as the next job would surely be messy.
Chapter Two:
Peter heard the muffled curses and screams long before he reached the heavy oak door leading into his conservatory. The deeper tone of the cries meant that it was the pimp and not the meth-addicted girl who was sober enough to be fully aware of his situation. He opened the door, causing the noise to come to an abrupt stop. Inside, the hothouse was mostly dark, being lit only by the feeble crescent moonlight shining through thick glass roof panels. The sultry air hit him and he smelled rich fertile earth combined with the tang of composted manure.
He was just able to make out the dark-furred Klup sitting on her haunches a few paces inside the doorway. To one side of the she-troll were the two banded iron cages holding the captives. As he had suspected from the screams, it was the pimp causing the ruckus. The clearly-terrified man’s head was straining against the confining iron cage as he tried to see who, or what, had opened the door.
Peter smiled as he noticed that Klup was trying to block out the pimp’s screaming by jamming her big thumbs into her sensitive ears. He was impressed that the troll had remembered his warning and was ignoring the terrified pimp while remaining vigilantly facing the far end of the room where the Pupadominus plant was potted.
“Hey Bro!” the pimp screamed. “Get me da’fuck autta here!”
Klup suddenly slammed one of her paws into the iron cage just over the man’s face. The action bounced the pimp’s head back onto the stone floor, stunning him into momentary silence. Peter chuckled at first but then scowled as he smelled the urine and feces the pimp had been unable to contain. He would either have to endure the mess until Miranda or Bella could clean the room tomorrow or do it himself before then. He then sighed as he realized that it would be better if he took care of it, as Miranda would be exhausted when she finally woke and Bella feared the death plant.
Peter peered deeper into the dark room and could just make out the dark green Pupadominus plant where it sat potted in its large horse-trough-sized container at the far end of the room. It was right where it was supposed to be but one could never be too careful with magical creatures. In the daytime, with three converging glass walls, that end of the greenhouse provided the necessary sunlight that the strange half-carnivorous plant still periodically required.
He was momentarily annoyed that the troll had not activated the fae-light globes that lined the room but then he remembered that, with her excellent night vision, Klup did not need the magical lights. Peter spoke the incantations which caused the globes to begin glowing and as the conservatory grew brighter, the full Pupadominus plant was revealed. As always, Peter felt both awe and revulsion as he studied the impressive magical specimen.
The new light also allowed the recovering pimp to become fully aware of his surroundings. First, he stared in horror at the mountain troll sitting right beside his cage. Next, he noticed the hulking, nightmare shape of the carnivorous death plant at the end of the greenhouse. Thankfully the confined man did not resume his shrieking and only moaned in terror, shaking his head back and forth as if to deny what he was seeing. Whether from the lingering pain or simply reflex, the pimp clutched his still-bleeding groin protectively.
Klup stood and moved to stand behind Peter. The action caused the terrified man to piss himself again, urine fountaining through gaps in his hands. Peter dreaded having to extract the filthy soiled man out of his now-soiled cage. He dismissed the pimp for now and moved closer to the death plant to give it a more thorough inspection. Despite the Pupadominus plant’s current lack of mobility, it was still very dangerous if one was not careful. With the late hour, the plant was only semi-active, relying on its stored energy reserves to carry it through the period of near-total darkness.