stormyseasons | Impulse part 2

Tags: not canon compliant, dubious consent, dom/sub, porn with plot, no aftercare, forced orgasm, internalised dehumanisation, bondage, subdrop, service kink/praise kink, shapechanging, overstimulation

Notes: darker au. Features a Morax who is... not terribly emotionally adept with people who are not able to be upfront about how they feel. Who on some levels mostly cares about people who are ‘his’.
Originally written as a response to certain Discord prompts [hence the title].

Serving Morax’s desires is not... difficult, as far as Xiao is concerned. Yet... nevertheless, despite Xiao’s best efforts on several occasions, it somehow feels that its lord is not quite satisfied of late with its obedience. At present, it kneels obediently at Morax’s feet, waiting as instructed. Anticipating, quietly, that its lord might use its mouth soon.

Morax ignores it, speaking over Xiao’s head to Azhdaha who is already preparing to set out, “Must you?”

“You know well why that border needs reinforcement from one of us. Why, does Xiao not please you? Or your other lovers? You know I do not mind if you need to be sated in my absence.” Azhdaha comments calmly. Xiao forces itself to control its breathing. It thinks it knows where this conversation is going, and it... it must be ready to obey correctly. ... it was not every day that its lord’s consort ... or whatever they were to each other... encouraged Morax to take others to bed.

“Hm. If you are certain?” Morax asks. Azhdaha nods. “I am. Bide well, Morax. The sooner I depart for the killing fields, the sooner I return to you.”

“Return victoriously.” When Azhdaha is out of earshot, Morax turns to Xiao. “Stand, close your mouth, and strip.”

It obeys. Inexplicably, its hands tremble. How odd. It must have grown used to Morax’s usually gentle preferences. Morax stalks about it slowly, inspecting its body. Touching here and there as he goes, establishing possession and dominance. Condescending once in a while to give an instruction that Xiao can follow. Eventually, he says, “Your mouth has trouble enough with me in the usual times. Sit on the bed and part your legs.”

It obeys. Something like a cold sweat tries to prickle on its skin – it forces the strange fear away and down into itself. The feeling is irrelevant. Only its service is important. Morax inspects it closely, then lays a hand – a hand already beginning to sprout dragon’s scales and claws – over its belly. Power shimmers into Xiao from that touch and begins to change its form. The usual flesh in its abdomen and at its crotch shift, becoming something... something else. Morax strokes the newly formed slit with clawed fingers, as if in satisfaction. Then reaches into Xiao, claws mercifully sheathed, and begins to pry Xiao open. It ... it hurts, in a strange way; like and unlike the previous times when a master had reached in and opened Xiao’s body. Morax doesn’t relent. Xiao... doesn’t know if it wants him to relent, either. ... or if he would stop, even if Xiao begged him to.

Eventually, Xiao is pushed onto its back on the bed, its legs bound high and wide above its head to give Morax the maximum amount of space possible without maiming Xiao. Its lord pats its thigh with a free hand, praising it, “How obediently you bend to my will, Xiao. How pleasingly you obey.”

The praise is... is good and reassuring, and Xiao’s body relaxes around Morax’s fingers, opening up a fraction more.

“Good.” Morax praises it. “Just a little more, Xiao. I don’t want to damage you with my pleasure.”

It tries to yield a little more. Perhaps that works – Morax makes a sound that Xiao cannot identify, and pulls his fingers out, before kneeling between Xiao’s splayed limbs. He waits a moment more – Xiao is obscurely glad of the chance to catch its breath – then thrusts into Xiao. It hurts. In the absence of instructions as to how to please Morax, Xiao holds its limbs in the same position Morax had ordered. Does its best to be... be pleasing, to be comfortable to take. Shuts the whines of pain and discomfort in its throat and refuses to voice them.

It gets easier, after Morax turns it over onto its belly to take it from the back. The sweat soaked sheets tear in its teeth, but it makes no untoward sounds.

Morax dismisses it without further ado after he finishes. It... staggers away, legs – body, really – unsteady, half-heartedly dressed. It has quarters in the yaksha encampment – Xiao heads there. It does not socialise much with the others, it should be... should be quiet. Peaceful. It wants that, suddenly, for some reason.

No one is in its room. Good. That is... good. It sheds the garments it had only put on to avoid questions if anyone saw it. The blood stains on certain parts of the cloth are... not a surprise. Morax had not been particularly gentle. It uses the washroom, and cold water to cleanse itself. Then tumbles into the bed – it was assigned a bed and it didn’t have to share, and even now the thought was a wonder – and drags the covers over its head. It is colder than the wash water can account for. It doesn’t like the feeling.

Someone knocks on the door of its quarters. Xiao freezes beneath its blankets, perfectly still except for the constant involuntary tremors. If... if it is still, if it is silent, would the person leave? ... if they do not leave, would... it is reasonably certain that it is not required to entertain anyone aside from Morax, but he had not said...

The knocking comes again. Xiao is so still that its breath barely even stirs the air. Then, “Xiao, I know you’re in there. Say something so I know you’re fine, or let me in to check over you.”

Xiao knows that voice. Bosacius. It tries to speak – its voice catches in its throat. It whispers its response to Bosacius’ request, bidding the wind to carry its voice to him. “... you can come in...”

Bosacius promptly opens the door. Then stops short, as if ... surprised. Xiao uncurls a little from its blanket cocoon, peeking out at Bosacius. The senior yaksha says, voice strange, “Morax called for you.”

“...yes.”

“Did he... no, he clearly didn’t tell you what might happen, or take care of you in the aftermath. Will you budge over, and let me sit on the bed next to you, Xiao?” ... It is a request from a senior. Xiao whispers softly, “Yes, Bosacius.”

Bosacius sits on the bed next to its head. Xiao suppresses the shiver that tries to rake its flesh. Bosacius has been kind. Bosacius is its senior, its superior in Morax’s army. Bosacius can probably do as he likes, so long as he doesn’t damage Xiao to the point where he cannot serve Morax’s pleasure.

... Bosacius is doing nothing except gently petting Xiao’s hair, slowly. Bosacius continues to do nothing else except gently stroke and pet Xiao’s head, the only part of itself that Xiao has exposed out of the blankets. It is... nice? It is nice. It leans a little into Bosacius after a while, and then leans harder when Bosacius doesn’t reprimand it. It is nice. Warm, where Bosacius touches it so gently, makes no request of it.

Sleep calls it by name, and Xiao drifts off. Faintly, it thinks it hears Bosacius murmur, “If I thought you would hear me and do it, and if I thought he would hear you and grant your request, I would tell you to ask for care afterwards....”

That is not the only time that Morax makes that particular request. A few months later, when the tides of war take Azhdaha and many of the other adepti and yaksha away from Morax’s side for a long time again, its lord orders Xiao’s attendance in his bed once more.

Morax is not satisfied. Not with Xiao’s careful, diligent obedience to his instructions. It has not pleased its lord. The thought of being displeasing, of being discarded from its lord’s service is.... The only way Xiao can describe it is ‘frightening’. It has to please Morax. It has to.

It cannot. Morax asks it to display pleasure, asks its body to show interest in his attentions. Its body fails to obey – every moment of fear that Xiao feels making the failure even worse, as its body cringes in anticipation of punishment. Morax frowns at it – at the evidence of its body’s failure – at the blatantly limp and uninterested body part that persistently failed to obey Xiao’s will.

It has to please Morax – then Morax will keep it. It doesn’t want to be discarded for failure. It doesn’t want to be discarded – discarded tools are – Xiao tears its thoughts away from that fear. Twists its body into the form Morax had taught it to take the first time it had taken its lord between its legs, and straddles Morax’s hips. In this form, at least, it is easier to pretend at pleasure, and it drives itself mercilessly upon Morax’s arousal until its lord finishes into itself with a shout.

Good. It has pleased its lord. The warm pleasure of being good and obedient and pleasing rises briefly – only briefly. Morax catches his breath, then strikes Xiao hard upon the buttocks in reprimand. Its lord’s hands deliver harsh blows on its buttocks and thighs with every word Morax speaks, as though in emphasis. “I am not interested in lies and fakery. Do not pretend at pleasure you do not feel again.”

It whimpers abject apologies, submitting to Morax’s chastisement. The bruises from Morax’s hands do not fade for days. It avoids Bosacius and the other yaksha for days, certain somehow that it will be... that others will be displeased with it if they see it in such a state.

Xiao never quite manages to pretend adequately at pleasure to satisfy Morax. Though it does not have many opportunities to practice, either – no others call upon its bed, and for whatever reason, Morax will not call upon it to serve when his lovers are nearby. At those times, Xiao is only required to go about the business of war, serving with spear and martial power.

Those times are good. Abundant with camaraderie from its fellow yaksha. Abundant with praise, simply and directly earned through service in war. It only needs to kill what Morax asks it to kill, and it will have succeeded in pleasing him.

At other times, though, Xiao is still called to Morax’s quarters, or more rarely his domain, to serve in his bed. Its lord looks long and intently at it at those times, as though watching for some reaction or capability that Xiao had yet to display. It wishes it knew what that was.

Then it could learn to give it to him. Then it could give Morax what he wanted.

The next time that Xiao is called to serve Morax, it is... unusual, for the current situation. Morax’s other bed-partners and lovers are not few – and those he favours with his attention the most are currently within the current camp, or not far away. Xiao... is usually not called upon to serve at such a time. There is no need for it to do so. At the most, on rare occasions Morax will have it kneel and bear witness to the coupling. Or to stand guard at the door, and hear the coupling.

It pauses at the entrance to the stone structure that anchors the temporary domain Morax utilises while on campaign. Something like... something like fear claws at its spine. It has been called upon once more to be pleasing. It is... it is uncertain if it can fulfil this role to Morax’s satisfaction at all.

“Come in.” Morax’s voice rolls out around it, soft yet carrying. Xiao obeys. The little domain is... not set up for war council, but for pleasure, Morax lounging on the bed against a collection of pillows. Xiao dares a glance around the domain. The shelves are ... mostly veiled from sight, but Morax has placed a low table by the bed, with ... tools. Well. Xiao assumes they are tools for pleasure, anyway. Its lord flicks a hand at Xiao, indicating that it should approach. It obeys, eyes respectfully cast down, going to its knees next to the bed. “How may this one serve today, my lord?”

Morax leans over the edge of the bed, propping his head up on one hand to regard Xiao. “You may answer my question first.”

Xiao bows its head. “This one is at your service.”

“Tell me, Xiao, have you ever pleasured yourself?”

It jerks, startled from obedient stillness. Pleasure? What? Was... was Morax speaking of pleasure that Xiao gave to others? No, Xiao had heard him correctly. He spoke of Xiao’s pleasure, as if a tool and weapon had any pleasure of its own, other than satisfaction in serving well. “T...This one does not understand, my lord. This one does not know how to answer your question.”

Morax flips a hand dismissively, allowing Xiao’s inadequate answer to stand. “No matter. I simply wished to know.”

Then he peers closely at Xiao again. “You recall that variant of human form I coaxed your flesh into at that time, do you not? Strip, assume that form, and lie upon the bed.”

It obeys. Morax pulls it to recline against the pillows, before arranging Xiao to his satisfaction, partly seated upright with its legs well apart. Morax leans close once more, hands stroking slowly and almost-gentle over Xiao’s flesh. “You submit to me very obediently, Xiao, and I do appreciate that.”

“This one is most thankful to be pleasing, my lord.” Xiao manages to say. Morax’s gentle touching is almost ... unnerving. It is not usual. Usual would be Morax taking his pleasure of its mouth. Usual would be being ordered to lie down upon something or bend over something to serve its lord as a vessel. This... Xiao does not know what it is supposed to do. Morax’s hands turn even more gentle, even... caressing, if Xiao were to compare this way of touching to how Morax touched his lovers and bed partners. He had never quite touched Xiao in that way before – tools and weapons were not touched like that. Morax speaks softly, almost ... almost coaxingly to Xiao, “I would like to see you fall apart in pleasure, my Xiao.”

It shudders in confusion. Pleasure was for the master, for ... for people. Not for tools. Morax continues, surely noticing – but ignoring – Xiao’s confusion, as was his right. “I want you to pleasure this form of yours until you orgasm. Repeatedly. Until you are thoroughly familiar with your pleasure, and I am sated with the sight of it.”

“I... how is... how is this one to do that?” Xiao asks. In answer, Morax draws its hands down between its legs. “Touch yourself here. Do you know how?”

It shakes its head. It has no idea. Morax grasps a hand – Xiao momentarily has to suppress a twist of feeling at the dichotomy of size – and pushes it against the slit that Morax had formed of its flesh at that time. “Rub here. Hmm... first with a finger, or perhaps two fingers.”

It obeys. The feeling is... is... it is a feeling, Xiao can tell that much. It is not a feeling of pain. But aside from the bodily sensation, it is not clear how... how it is supposed to be pleasurable. Morax stares at Xiao even more closely, and it ... it feels oddly humiliated to be observed in this. As though Morax had deliberately set it to a task it could not accomplish, and lingered to watch Xiao fail. It does not like the feeling. “M... my lord. This one... is this one doing this correctly? This one does not... does not understand if this is the pleasure you speak of.”

Morax simply props his head on his hand, sprawling comfortably between Xiao’s legs to observe Xiao’s actions closely. “You are following my instructions very well, Xiao. Please continue.”

Xiao obeys. It... really isn’t sure, but if Morax wanted it to... to continue to humiliate itself in hopeless obedience, then it would do so. It is... it is awkward, and its hand begins to ache in weariness and dull pain. It doesn’t want to keep doing this.

“Use your other hand as well.” Morax says when Xiao glances up in question. It obeys. It is... it is not any less strange – it is very... awkward, to be rubbing itself like this but... Morax seizes one of its hands, and rubs it slowly and deliberately along the slit – making sure to linger long and slow over the bud of flesh at the top. The sensation of the touch spikes up Xiao’s spine and it trembles. That was... was... Morax does it again, and Xiao’s legs tremble again, attempting to wrench close and protect the apparently sensitive flesh.

Morax makes a noise of displeasure, and Xiao viciously wrenches its legs apart again – it hadn’t meant to disobey! Too late, though. Morax roughly tugs its hands away from its body, his eyes glinting in annoyance before a hand sharply cracks down between Xiao’s legs. The pain is sharper than it expects, or perhaps Morax is more displeased than it’d thought – it thrashes, blind instinct trying to drag it away from the hurt – Morax makes another sound of displeasure, and punishes it again. Xiao whimpers – Stone binds wrap around its limbs and pin it down, hold it down, and Morax is slapping Xiao again, again. It hurts. It hurts more when Morax deliberately slaps against that sensitive place he had wished Xiao to stimulate.

Xiao had thought itself used to pain, even in such service, but perhaps... perhaps Morax’s relatively kinder service had diminished its tolerance for it. It only takes a few more punishing blows before it is whimpering quietly, shamefully for mercy. “Mercy, please, this one is sorry, have mercy, my lord...”

Morax stops. Strokes a hand slowly over the flushed and hurting flesh he’s just punished. Drawls out slowly, “And what are you sorry for, Xiao?”

Casually, meanly, he pinches the little sensitive bud beneath his hand, and Xiao shrieks. “Mercy, mercy, my lord, please –”

“Answer me, Xiao.”

“Disobedience! This one is sorry, most sorry for its disobedience! Mercy, please...”

Morax doesn’t hurt it again, so Xiao can only conclude that somehow, somehow, it has begged adequately to Morax’s satisfaction. It gasps for air, gasps in relief, gasps out thankful whimpers that its noise does not displease Morax. Morax does not release its legs from the stone shackles, dragging its hand down between its legs again.

“Now. Try again. Try to do better, Xiao.” He adds with a little curl of his lip. “You have yet to achieve orgasm – and I will not release you until you do.”

It hurts. It obeys anyway, tears springing to its eyes at how every touch there seems to drive pain and strange sensation into its body, but it continues to obey. Its pain, its confusion at the strange sensation pleases its lord, and that is ... is more than enough to drive Xiao onward.

The awkwardness never does get easier, but Morax eventually takes pity on Xiao, putting his own much more skilled fingers to work on Xiao’s flesh. The additional stimulation – the additional help – eventually seems to ... to do something, and Xiao feels something drip out of itself. Morax makes a pleased noise, and holds Xiao’s hands still, bending his head down to taste. The first touch of Morax’s tongue draws a shocked, shivery noise from Xiao, and it bites its lips. Silent, it should be silent, it should not disturb its master’s pleasure.

Morax licks it thoroughly, rumbling in pleasure at the taste.

“Your pleasure tastes good, Xiao... Have you ever tasted yourself?” Morax purrs to it. Xiao shivers, uncertain if it is fear or something else making it shake. It has to reply. “This one... this one has not, lord.”

Morax licks into it once more, thoroughly – the sensation drives another noise from Xiao – then leans up and kisses Xiao. It yields to the kiss, surprised that Morax would bother to kiss something like it – tasting the flavour of itself as Morax thrusts his tongue into its mouth and lays his claim once more upon Xiao. He withdraws after several long, breath-stealing moments, smacking his lips as though the taste of Xiao’s flesh, Xiao’s mouth, were somehow pleasing. Once more reclining between Xiao’s legs, Morax murmurs with affected sweetness to it, “A good beginning, my Xiao. Again.”

Again. Xiao is to do this confusing thing again. Morax’s will is it’s will – it obeys. At least now its hands are less awkward upon its own flesh, and... and it eventually manages to coax the ... the fluid readiness from itself as it attempts to touch and stroke, even though its flesh continues to ache dully in pain. Morax is observing it even more closely now, and it feels... it feels... Xiao doesn’t know what it feels. Only that it is Morax’s right to observe whatever part of itself that he wants to – and that it is... hard, to obey Morax’s desire to show this part of Xiao right now. The additional slipperiness of the skin of its slit makes the touching a little easier, at least, and eventually it is able to coax the shudders of... of sensation that Morax had wanted from itself.

“Good.” Morax hisses, tone veering closer towards a dragon’s deep rumble, “Now, slower. Rub yourself slower, yes.... Like that, Xiao. Very good. How you twitch and shudder at your own touch... it is captivating. Now, Xiao, use another finger. Move it in and out of yourself.”

Xiao obeys. It... the strange feeling Morax seemed to call pleasure is welling up in it again. Two fingers, rubbing in and out of itself – sensation begins to roll over it like a wave. It cries out, shocked at the intensity, body suddenly shaking and pressing against its hands. Morax chuckles softly, and leans in to kiss Xiao over its helplessly clenching and spasming slit.

The sensation of the kiss on top of... of the earlier stimulation is nearly unbearable, and Xiao twists against the sheets, sobbing. What ... what is this... why is it so... “Lord... what, what is this?”

Morax laughs, and kisses it there again. “Pleasure, my Xiao. Pleasure.”

Pleasure? That... how could... “I don’t... This one does not...”

Morax interrupts its babbling with another hungry lick, and Xiao gives up, gives itself over to its lord’s whim. Morax shifts its hands out of the way, and the licking turns into... turns into something that Xiao can only describe as being eaten, as though Morax were using his tongue to fuck Xiao. His tongue thrusts into Xiao, again and again, and the sensation of the rough, wet touch on ... on bruised and sensitised parts is... is... the heady flurry of sensation scatters Xiao’s thoughts to the four winds.

When it is able to focus, to think clearly again, its position has changed. Morax has it once more on its front, its hands bound to its ankles with stone shackles, forcing its back and buttocks into the air. Presenting itself for use. Xiao whimpers softly – struck by an inappropriate thread of humiliation at the forced exposure of the position. It had been good. It had done its best to obey. Why... why was it now bound like this?

Morax answers the thought that Xiao had thought was unspoken – it blushes with humiliation that it had lost enough control to babble its irrelevant thoughts – as its lord speaks, “You fell apart so wonderfully on your hands and mine, and from my mouth, that I decided to see if I could get you to orgasm with no other stimulation than my cock.”

The consideration of informing Xiao over and done with, he begins to make use of Xiao’s body. Some unknown time – some unknown amount of stimulation later, Xiao really cannot keep track – Morax’s speculation is proven right. Xiao’s body shudders in confusion, in overstimulation, clenching and shivering while Morax uses it as a vessel for his pleasure. Mercifully after that, its lord calls a halt, unbinding Xiao and letting it rest, even going so far as to personally hold a cup of water to Xiao’s mouth to let it slake its thirst.

Almost, Xiao expects to be dismissed to its other duties – or to be used again after being given a break – but Morax behaves unexpectedly again. He holds Xiao in his embrace, hands toying with its hair, and asks, “Tell me, Xiao, do you like the pleasure of your body?”

The question is... Wearyingly confusing. Had Xiao failed to satisfy Morax somehow, failed to provide the right kind of reactions he wanted? But whether it had failed or not, there still was the question... “It is a gift from my lord. This one appreciates it.”

It is dismissed to its leisure soon after that. It doesn’t hide in the blankets this time, climbing under the bed frame and pulling its wings out and around itself. There really isn’t enough space for that – but it feels safer to hide like this. It doesn’t understand. Morax had been... relatively gentle.

Soft sounds from outside its door, voices that it ignores – it prays quietly to be left alone. When it investigates later... it had not been Bosacius or one of the other yaksha come to visit. Of course not. No one had seen Xiao go to attend Morax. No one... no one knew – it shakes the thought away. It doesn’t need that kind of comforting. It doesn’t deserve that kind of comforting.

Instead, what was left at its door... was a stack of silken robes.