Sold to the Dark Elf

Chapter 1

Karul

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…”

My eyes travel across the bodies that grace the dance floor, each a little box of delight to be unwrapped and defiled.

…catch a whore by the toe. 

I wonder which one I will have tonight? Of course, I have had them all before, and each brings their unique technique and specialties. I guess it’s a case of what I am in the mood for. 

I lean back on the bar and drain my glass as the pleasure of the alcohol mixes with my desire. I watch as the human women eye me from the dance floor. I cut a fine figure with short platinum hair, a black shirt, a purple tunic, and pants. 

I wear my pants tight. The ladies like it that way.

You see, I know the way things work. I can see behind the screen. Things don’t just happen—dark elves such as I make them happen.

“Any moment now…” I whisper.

“Sorry?” Aqura asks me. 

Aqura is a friend, a typical elf of high-born status and low brain capacity. He likes to stick his cock in things, spend his father’s money, and cry at his mother's feet when anything goes wrong.

He’s not like me. 

“Never worry, Aqura,” I tell him, “I was just…” 

Then, the club doors burst open, not to my surprise, I must add. 

“By the Mother, what’s all this about?” Aqura shouts as if he is somehow important enough to have any authority.

“Me,” I whisper, but no one hears. They aren’t meant to.

I watch my Father’s men as they stumble like idiots about the dark club looking for me.

“Oi, less of that!” One of the girls calls out as one of them can’t help himself in grabbing a feel of her perky, tiny tit. I laugh.

“Turn the lights on!” one of my father’s men shouts. And with a clang of a switch, his wish is granted. The club now goes silent. All their sins and secrets are exposed in the harsh light and frozen in time. Everyone wonders if the elves are looking for them.

But they aren’t. 

“Karul!” He shouts again as his eyes spin around the room until they find and fix themselves on me.

I wave. 

He plods over to me. It is Hittus, a heavy-handed dark elf with a good head on his shoulders and one not to rule out too quickly. 

“Ah, Hittus, always a pleasure to see you. To what do I owe this honor?” I smile wide with my head slightly cocked to one side. 

“Young Karul, I thought I would find you here,” Hittus says, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You know me too well,” I reply. 

“I have orders from your father to bring you home,” Hiatus tells me. 

“Really?” I ask, ensuring my mask that hides my excitement is in place, “Has the family fallen? I only went out for the evening?” I joke with him. 

He laughs at that. “I can assure you, young sir, the family can survive a night or two without you.” 

“Everything all right?” A drunk Aqura bungles in again, trying to field a sense of importance. 

“All in hand, Aqura,” I tell him. 

“Good, good, well, if you need me, I’ll be over there,” He points toward the corner to a sweet little thing that gives him a seductive wave. 

I look at Hittus and see a want in his eye as he ogles Aqura’s passport to pleasure for the evening. 

“Hittus?” I gently say.

He quickly breaks from his stare like a caught schoolboy. “Ah, yes, umm, I must ask you to accompany us. Your father bids it.”

“Well, if Father bids it, how can I refuse?” 

Hittus bowes at that, and I return it, “Lead on, Hittus.”

Aqura stumbles off as Hittus leads me toward the door. 

“You know, Hittus, if you ever need the company of a woman, just let me know,” I tell him with a poke of my elbow. 

I can almost hear the excitement of the thought bouncing in his head. “Well, things haven’t been great at home, in that department lately.”

It’s a short ride from the club to my Father’s house, a grand place, as expected in the important part of town. 

I wait for Hittus to exit first and for him to hold the carriage door open as I step onto the pavement. The night air is sharp with a hint of perfume, and I breathe it in before walking up the steps to another door opened by someone else.  

I turn to Hittus, who has followed me, and ask, “The study, I take it?”

“No, young sir, the conference room.” 

“Oh, fancy,” I joke, but I know all too well it would be. 

“A bit of advice if I may, sir,” Hittus says.

“You may, Hittus, you may.” 

“I’d try and sober up a bit if I were you,” he lowers his eyes and hurries off down the corridor.

If he only knew just how sober I am. 

I turn on my heel and head up the grand marble stairs. I scrape the soles of my shoes as I go. I like how it echoes through the cold halls of my Father’s house, signaling my presence. 

I take a moment, just a brief one, before I push the large doors of the conference room open. The chattering within fades to stony silence as I enter. 

Quite the crowd, I must admit, have gathered in my honor. I glance around at the elder elves seated and am impressed by how many, if not all, have made the effort. 

My eyes shift toward him, my father, Karag, with a look on his face I have seen a thousand times and have come to despise. 

“Father!” I call out, my voice bouncing around the bitter walls of the room and into the ear of every elf here. 

Then, for added effect, I stumble just a little. 

“You’re drunk!” Father raises himself from his seat. “Again.” 

On cue, the rest of the elder elves stand and make their objections to my perceived state known rather loudly. 

“I can smell the wine from here!” One of the old bastards shouts. 

“A disgrace. Look at the clothes he wears!” Another one. 

“This boy needs to be put in his place, Karag!” And another.

I let it wash over me. It means nothing to me. Why would it?

“How dare you, Karul,” my father says. The rest of the elder elves settle in their seats. They, like I, know what is ahead. 

“Forgive me, Father,” I say with a bow. 

“Drunkenness, Disloyalty, Debauchery, never did I dream that a son of mine would be so debased and depraved. And what in the name of the Mother is going on with that hair?” He shouts. His face turns red, and I bow my head. 

An elder elf coughs. It’s always a telling sign. 

“If you will forgive me, there are matters to be addressed,” one of the elder elves says. He must have an appointment to have his balls licked in the lower end of town. 

“Yes, yes, I understand.” Karag agrees. “Karul. Our family has reached a crossroads, and our enemies grow stronger by the day. This calls for action. This calls for each of us to stand and be counted. That includes you.”

I summoned my boyish eyes, blinking to hide my real emotions under my thick eyelashes. “Father, it pains me to hear such words. My soul aches at the thought of our long and proud family under threat. I throw myself before you and ask, ‘what would you have a wretch like me do’?”

I fall to my knees for added effect. 

“Your words please me, boy, for I have found a solution,” Karag announces, more to the elders than me. 

Go on, Father. I’m intrigued. 

“You are to marry Fara Klutaro,” he announces further. I hear the intake of breath of the elders. 

My Father begins, and I listen. “Such a marriage to the mighty and extremely influential Klutaro family will forge a bond that, Karul, will ultimately save us. Our future lies with you. However, it pains me to say it. You are our only hope.” 

I feel the glare of my Father upon me and take a second to enjoy his concern at my possible answer. I hide my grin to the floor until I can push inward and solemnly raise my head. 

“Well, boy! What is your answer?” My Father shows his impatience. 

I look around the elder elves, their eyes fixed on my face, and I know that all this is now in the palm of my hand. These fools have spent their lives clinging to the coattails of others to maintain their positions of so-called high status. 

I cough. I like coughing. It always unnerves a room before you are about to speak. I rise to my feet and feel the power that I have in this room right now, and that excites me more than any whore with her feet and hands tied to a bed. 

“Without question, Father, I would give my life for the family,” I speak calmly and firmly. I am in this moment, without question. 

I can almost feel the collapse of the elder elves with relief at my words. My Father’s eyes are more concerned with them than with me. There will be no touch, no thanks. 

But I no longer care about that because it’s all going according to plan.