The Dux of Darkwood (Illustrated)

by Phantomdotexe (ao3)

The Dux of Darkwood - Extended 

The foundations remained, even as most of the bricks had been repurposed so many years ago. They still echoed faded elegance.  Those that remained were smooth and polished, as if they’d not been touched out of fear or superstition. Nobody wanted to be caught stealing as the penalties were severe .

Everything in the forest, from the land to the leaves, belonged to the Dux of Darkwood. He ruled with an iron fist, clad in an impenetrable darkness. He took justice into his unyielding, armored hands. Thieves and bandits had all abandoned his domain, seeking greener and safer pastures from his whims. 

Those that crossed him disappeared. No trial, no jury -  only punishment given by an executioner. The silent and statues bore witness to his lordship. Immobile, lost, crushed, trapped, coated; gone . Countless criminals had been given the swift justice of the Dux.  Laminated in latex, mounted on the walls of ruined buildings - or forgotten in his workshops as experiments he grew bored of. 

 This drove away all but the desperate and the daring. Fantom was both; eager for treasures to tale and status to flaunt. The Dux and his reputation were rumored to give both. Defeating him would give the ninja access to uncountable treasures, and more importantly, respect - something that money could never buy. 

Fantom stood before a crumbling castle. It was a resplendent mix of vines and trees sprouting from cracks. The foliage blended wit the mortal-made; a winding complex built across a wide hill. Taking in a deep breath, she passed the threshold, into the ruins and into the domain of the Dux. This was trespassing, no doubt about it - a great crime for which she knew she’d be punished… if she didn’t defeat him first. Fear and excitement had her draw magical daggers, welcome friends to fight her way through plants and traps, which she used to work through the castle. Higher and higher she climbed, going up and up, ascending the winding keeps and stone walls. 

 At its apex awaited the Dux, sitting in the courtyard before his keep. Fantom entered, adopting a battle stance, ready to roll out of danger or to parry what he might throw at her. And yet.. .It was a peaceful place. Above her, the day had turned to starlit night. The grounds were covered in flowers carefully taken care of, as well as what looked like deep pits. She didn’t want to imagine what waited inside them; how deep they went, or what had carved them from the hill. They were the only blemish on the landscape; mouths ready to swallow the unwary.

A single tree offered luxurious shade. Abandoned tables for guests lined the courtyard, dust and mold on most save for one. At the head of the table, directly in front of a metal gate, sat the Dux. His sclera were black; his skin fair; his eyes a handsome gold that matched the most precious of crowns. She pointed a dagger at him, and he rose to meet her. This was not a sufficient greeting. She expected to be welcomed, threatened, taunted, teased. She deserved an entrance. Bravado grew in her heart. 

“Rossem!” She shouted, bellowing his name across the courtyard as if it were a curse word in a desolate place.  It echoed, only to have even this little pleasure denied and as he rose up to meet her challenge. A smile grew across his mouth, cold, empty; as if he already decided what to do with her.

===

When the fight finally began, the duelists were bold in their attacks and parries. Rossem’s attacks were wide, but they were measured, calculated, and had enough  pressure to force the ninja on the defensive. He was slowly chipping away her stamina, blunting  the edge of her weapons.

 But on the other hand, Fantom was consistent. She was accumulating successful blows. How damaging they were was  hard to say; each time she was struck his flesh, it felt like hitting mud or tar. She made marks on the armor, his helmet, weapon, gloves, seeking out the little gaps in his armor to allow him to move. Now she hit his  ankles, followed by a deft deflection leading to  an elbow to his nose. It  was finally enough to push him back; she had shaken  him, and the courtyard sizzled with the glowing blue smoke of her magical attacks. 

And yet… he seemed unfazed, at best. Rossem seemingly took a break, waddling to a wooden chair at the head of a table. He took a seat, opened his legs, and helped himself to a glass of wine which he raised in a toast to Fantom. After gulping it down in one go, he smiled. “Bitter, just like you…" he said as he let the glass slip from his fingers shattering in the grass to his left. 

Fantom furrowed her brow. She imagined him already bound and at her feet, begging and rattling chains, stripped of his dignity and smile. Yet, he was here, a little short of breath at best, and worst, amused by her.

Intolerable, insufferable! Enough was enough, and as she was opening her mouth to speak, Fantom threw a dagger, knocking the bottle from his hand as he tried to sip from it. He stared at her, his eyes piercing like arrows, ready to cut her on the spot. As she charged, her dagger coming back at her, he roared into action, drawing his sword and wielding it with both hands, putting all his weight and might behind it. 

The ninja dashed closer and closer, spotting a weak point in his stance. She lunged, and to her complete surprise, the sword simply vanished from his hands - allowing her an opening to his exposed throat. Fantom lunged, but hit his head; in that exact moment, he had leaned down to pick up his sword, deflecting the attack. However, he was still knocked to the ground, dazed and injured. Fantompressed against him, staring at the Dux as he smiled. 

“Do you know who I am?!” she shouted. “I’m-”

“Nothing more than a pest in my rest,” he said with a grin. Fantom’s vision was filled with stars and night.  The flat side of Rossem’s blade tapped the back of Fantom’s head, sending her into a confused state of concussed paralysis. She slumped over, ears ringing. She stared up at him as he got to his feet. The heavy blade dangled in the air, seemingly kept aloft only until he could pronounce judgment.

“Tresspassing, assault, violence on a representative of the law, usage of deadly force and attempted murder, you are found guilty.” 

Fantom shut her eyes tight, but the blade never dropped. Instead, it glowed - pulsing with runes that seemed to imprint somewhere in Fantom’s mind, over her brain even. Her eyes went glassy and her flesh seemed to be stripped of vitality. Her muscles failed her. 

Pain coursed through her body as he grabbed her by the hair. The pain meant she was still alive - the sickening rumors she heard about his prisoners. Alive meant hope and hope meant escaping when Rossem stopped. She almost tried to struggle before realizing her drooling mouth and body wouldn’t respond. She even tried to scream, which only managed to gurgle out as she stared with blue-glossed eyes at the elf.

He held her up, dangling her over a  pit. There was no pleading, no attempt at reprieve, nor an opportunity for repentance. But he did take his time to say goodbye.

“Thank you for the little distraction, a smidge better than your friend at least,” he said, plainly. And with that, his grip loosened enough around the ninja’s ankle to let gravity do the rest. 

Into the hole she went, slowed by the sudden stretching sensation of latex across her body. That pit seemed to not be the end for her - but much worse. Her weight and speed made  the ring she was passing in stretched gleaming black rubber across her figure. Fantom screamed, only to find the latex stretching over her mouth and face. 

The ninja was trapped in a silenced scream of horror and realization of what awaited her, and before she could try to break free, she was falling again after hearing a loud snap. Her legs touched another layer; another ring of latex that coated her, tightened around her, seemingly shrunk as it passed by her. She could feel her arms and legs restrained, coated like a new skin, sealed up to exceeding, exquisite layers of unforgiving tightness. 

She fell again. Her feet touched it first once more. She could feel a third layer of latex tightening all over her body. She was being sacked, packed, erased with the triple-coatings being both incredibly thin and incredibly strong. 

The arcane runes numbed her mind once again and kept her healthy through the process. Each time, her head was last; each time becoming more smooth as identity and willpower was sapped away. A part of herself leaving with each layer applied, as her identity was being sliced away as she fell deeper and deeper into more and more into a pit where light was reaching no more already. 

Fantom was dazed, her mind was numb, addled by magic and latex. Her ego had been crushed, compressed like her body was much the same -trapped under countless layers of incredible, humiliating pressure. She squirmed, begged, moaned as she continued to fall. Each layer was so thin that her curves and body were still visible, and each time the fall slowed further and further. The deeper she went, the slower the process; Fantom could feel as latex coated her waist, her hips, her thighs, her chest, her arms, her neck - and always, always the most sensual moment was when her face and head were made all the more smooth and glossy. 

When she reached the bottom, there was no longer a ninja; just a doll, black and laminated forevermore. Encased, with her arms and legs tight against her form; the vague outline of a face beneath thick rubber, the visible curves of a generously-apportioned woman. Of course, beneath it, there was no longer a warrior - just the crushed ego of a squirming, begging black rubber toy. 

And, deep in her hole, in the bowels of the castle, squirming under immeasurable pressure and pleasure, Fantom felt something at her feet. She wasn’t alone. Now she understood what the Dux’s punishment was. She knew what had happened to the endless hordes of attackers. She was another prisoner in his domain; she finally understood what happened to those that crossed the Dux of Darkwood. 

===

It had been days. Weeks. Maybe longer. But Fantom had done it. She’d escaped, using her twin daggers to climb from the pit in which she’d been tossed. She had succeeded, she was free, she was pushing her hand out from the hole, grabbing at the side of the hole to lift her to freedom, when…

No. She had never escaped. But she was free.

Fantom stood in the foyer of the ruin. She was motionless, seamless, perfectly, permanently, and completely coated. Her body was glossy in black latex that went from head to toe. It was so tight against her body that it had molded her, shaped her, recreated her in the image of her new master. It was a total and complete seal except for two small openings around her eyes; just enough to show her purple, empty, mindless visage. 

Her body had been reshaped. It was firm, muscled, toned. It was quite the view, all very nicely lit by the unforgivingly tight latex. Every curve and outline was exaggerated, made all the better, all the more delectable.

Around her womb was a glowing tattoo; symbols hobbled together to indicate the many curses and blessings bestowed upon her by her new master. Her daggers were magical, summoned and resting at her sides. Her hands were at her sides as well, and her feet were flat on a stone plinth.

Fantom was more than a statue, but she was a trophy. After being processed and utterly and completely broken, she’d  been coated and brought to the waiting room of the Dux where she would serve forevermore as his assassin - and plaything. After all, he saw no reason to let his ninja attacker go to complete waste. Her ears were stuffed, her mouth filled, and he had covered up both by bestowing a gift ot her; a long scarf that covered her mouth and nose, cutting a dashing figure against her black skin. 

A tag hovered in the air, just above her waist, labeled quite clearly for any guest to see. 

FANTOM - Former Ninja - Lvl 32 

SERVANT - Permanent (lvl 1-locked) - doll

She throbbed at the thought. Her body ached, ablaze with need. As soon as he’d set her up, a deep longing for touches, for intimacy, for use was growing. Gone was the haughty adventurer, replaced with a perfect toy, a supreme servant that was desperately in need of orders. 

When the Dux finally returned from a hunt, he removed his armor - slowly, carefully, and in such a way that his toy could see the entire time - and approached her. Her eyes gleamed. So did his. He could see that “Fantom” was squirming in place, so utterly sweet and needy - not for prestige, but for his presence. 

He leaned in close. “My my… aren’t you a delicious piece now? If you would be so kind…” he said with a low tone, “be my amusement for today. Do some patrols. Who knows? You might even catch some new friends. And if you do manage to bring them back here, you’ll be… rewarded.” 

He leaned in. The elf breathed hot air on her neck. He brought his hand low, between her legs, gently rubbing the tattoo between her legs. He teased her with his knee, gently moving his thumb against the sigils around her groin. 

The sounds she made were sweeter than any music.  The orgiastic bliss that echoed from her plugged mouth indicated that Rossem had made a very good choice, and that she was truly going to be a perfect servant. He loved the way her eyes rolled back, adored the sounds she made, and he was simply delighted at seeing her orgasm, seeing her shake, seeing her quiver, waiting for more. 

But, she had orders. Her eyes went down and she relaxed, and began her hunt with a dash to jump out of the castle. She had a burning desire to be used and abused as his little puppet. 

Rossem smiled. He knew there’d be many more years of using his little toy… and many toys soon to join her.