Umbrian stormed into his chambers, frustrated and concerned over the latest

news from those who travelled the deadly passages of The Corridor. The young
halfling who had been cleaning the remains of Umbrian’s last feeding jumped up
with a muffled squeal and quickly scurried past his Master, relieved that he had not
received a solid kick on his way out the door, or worse – been hurled out the open
window to fall broken upon the lava crags several feet below. In his true form,
Umbrian was both impressive and frightening, towering over all and dwarfing those
who served him, and always there was the malicious air of hate and hunger that
surrounded him. Even the halflings knew enough to avoid their Lord whenever
possible, but particularly when His mood was dark and edgy as it was now.

With a flourish he removed the cape from his shoulders and tossed it aside,
striding over to the large window. Consumed by his thoughts he stared unseeing
out at the jagged mountain ranges which surrounded his home -- a cold, dank
castle of mortar and stone whose hallways rang out with the cries of those
imprisoned deep within its bowels. It was an imposing structure surrounded on all
sides by an unforgiving landscape of overheated atmosphere, bathed in angry hues
of oranges and reds. Long tendrils of fog licked at the rocks and seeped into
crevices, the noxious fumes of sulfurous gas forming eddies which swirled and
danced low to the ground.

It seemed Umbrian’s enemy had never suspected worlds such as his existed
when they opened the gate to Amenthes centuries ago. The thought that even the
chosen pets of the Creator were prone to such naive stupidity gave him a satisfying
sense of supremacy. The Corridor was so new to them back then and they were
careless in the beginning, consumed with pride over what they had created and
blinded by the universal misconception that good always prevailed over evil. His
lips twisted in a grotesque display of self-satisfaction as he recounted their horror
once they had realized their error, for they had unknowingly granted him access to
a wealth of souls which he was only to eager to harvest and enslave.

The Guardians had acted quickly to seal the opening, of course, but not
before Umbrian had connected with a number of galaxies that were new to him,
including the aptly named Milky Way, or “Mother’s Milk” as many of his kind
referred to it. Once the connections had been made, it was simply a matter of time
before Umbrian had created his own warped version of a hidden ‘bastard’ gate.
This gate also provided a means of travel between the worlds, but it was unstable
and dangerous, requiring great skill and courage to navigate.

Courage, however, could be found – and bought – for a price. Humans, it

seemed, were a rich source of power, valued by those of his kind for their seemingly
endless depth of emotions and sensations; it was intoxicating, an ambrosia that fed
a relentless, consuming hunger. Moreover, it was not simply a lust for the infusion
of power derived from immersion in human emotion. Equally coveted was the
extended longevity of their existence that consumption of the soul itself provided,
though this was a much more dangerous addiction. Consume a soul too early and
you risked being driven to madness -- and ultimately the final death -- by the unrest
of awareness and emotion that still resided within the ingested essence. Of course,
many still courted such risks in pursuit of the incomparable surge of strength and
pleasure achieved from ingesting and harboring such an invigorating and
stimulating soul.

Umbrian had made countless journeys himself in the beginning, seducing and
enticing unsuspecting souls back to his world. At first he simply used them as
feeders, but he soon realized that he alone could not continue to harvest souls, and
a ghastly plan began to take form – he began to mate with the human females,
creating a bastardized race of lesser beings, males known as halflings. Because of
their genetic coding, halflings were tepid and unemotional, void of feeling and
incapable of processing pure sensation. Umbrian had found that by physically
coupling and bonding with a halfling, it opened up a path for them to taste the
sweetness of emotions, feeding and growing their addiction to the newness of
awareness so that they were eager to navigate his passages and harvest the
pathetic, unsuspecting creatures for him. He carefully selected and nurtured
halflings based upon their individual ability for endurance and soon had a thriving
supply of feeders. By controlling and eventually monopolizing the trade of human
souls into his world in those early days, he had quickly gained the power to stand as
Lord over a vast majority of his world.

Umbrian stroked the silky short hairs of his beard with long, tapered fingers,
grunting as a new transport wagon appeared on the horizon, signaling the arrival of
a new crop. How many were there in his hold now, he wondered for a moment? He
had lost count, impervious to the horror and pain that the human souls were
subjected to. They were little more than a food source as far as he was concerned,
and their pleas for mercy he likened to that of the confused calls of their cattle led
to slaughter. Men, women and children, from newborn to the aged, were valued,
though obviously the adults who were in their prime were the most sought after.
He breathed deeply as the wagon drew closer, inhaling the heady mixture of fear
and despair and shivering slightly at the tickle of sensation which licked at his
spine. Power, raw and unrefined, flowed through him, his body growing hard and
tight, alive with sensation.

Pleasure, however, was short lived. His body soon grew cold as his thoughts
returned to the news he had received such a short time ago.

“A changeling,” he murmured to himself, recounting the words of the minion

who had recently come to him bearing a message from his second in command. His
thoughts raced and his body tensed at the revelation of her existence and he
scowled, his brow furrowed with deep creases as worry began to set in. A
changeling had not been found in many centuries, and even then had not been of
pure blood. If this one were a true changeling, then she would need to be handled
with great care. He knew the legend of the Jewel of Gideon, a gem of unbridled
power that flowed from the very essence of the Creator himself. Only a true
changeling could harness and control the power of the jewel. Control the
changeling, control the jewel.

***WARNING – GRAPHIC CONTENT FOLLOWS***

Agitated and in need of distraction, he turned and crossed over to the far side
of his chambers where a young girl stood pressed against the cold stone wall, naked
and shivering in spite of the fire which roared in the fireplace across the room. She
was barely a woman, having only recently come of age by her people’s standards,
with smooth dark hair and unblemished skin, her slight form healthy and glowing.
Her head sagged and lulled, her chin resting on her chest, and Umbrian did not
waste time or make pretense. He was going to make good use of this sacrifice
tonight. Walking up to the girl, he grabbed her chin and forced her head up, razor
sharp talons drawing blood from one soft, fleshy cheek. He hissed between
lengthened incisors and brought his face close to hers, his breath moist and foul,
and she cried pitifully as she tried to turn her face away. Her attempts were weak
and ineffectual, Umbrian’s grip remaining firm until she finally ceased struggling.

Umbrian closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply. The scent
of her blood was heady, her fear arousing. It filled his lungs and fed his lust,
causing him to grow instantly hard with need. He pressed his swollen, mottled shaft
against her soft stomach and her struggles renewed, her movements more
animated this time as she began to emerge from the peyote fog to emit great,
rolling waves of fear and revulsion.

Umbrian merely smiled before growling, low and hungry.

“Do not struggle so, foolish girl. It is a great honor to have been chosen; a
sacrifice for which your people will be greatly rewarded when I leave their village
standing.” Umbrian’s voice was harsh and guttural, an unpleasant sound that made
her head ache.

“Please,” she croaked, pleading as best she could. Her lips felt thick and her
tongue swollen from the effects of the narcotic, making it difficult for her to speak.
He ignored her request, his watery eyes drawn to her face. His forked tongue
snaked out to taste the warm blood trickling from the cuts he had made and he
moaned low at the tangy sweetness of her. She grimaced, but her repugnance did
not bother him. On the contrary, it added to his pleasure. He found the coppery
taste of her heady and potent, and latched onto the wounds with hungry lips,
sucking greedily as his teeth bit deep into her flesh and he fed. Although she cried
out with pain, he felt her confusion seconds before he caught the unexpected scent
of her arousal.

“You enjoyed that,” he hissed accusingly before his tongue once again darted
out, this time to taste her lips, probing and inspecting. She kept them pressed
firmly together and tried to shake her head no in refusal and denial, eyes wide with
disgust. He bared his teeth menacingly before burying another talon deep into her
skin then smiled at her. It was a cold, empty gesture, his eyes watching her,
enjoying the fear and revulsion battling with her unbidden desire and lust.

“Perhaps we shall find that you are made for my special attentions after all,”
he whispered, leaning closer to press icy lips against her ear. With a rush of putrid
breath, he captured her lobe between his teeth and pierced the tiny pearl of skin
with the sharpened tip of one lengthened incisor. After a quick flick of his tongue,
he sucked at the tiny droplets of blood this produced before biting away the tender
bit of flesh, heedless of her screams. Closing his eyes, head once again tilted back
in a ghastly display of quiet ecstasy, he allowed the taste of her to mingle with his
senses and trembled slightly at the pleasure this gave him. He moved one hand
slowly down over the smooth column of her neck and squeezed tight in a
demonstration of his power over her. She whimpered and cried with renewed
hysteria, and he encouraged her fear -- along with her desire -- allowing her guilt
and degradation to infuse him.

“Please, God – nooo,” she pleaded again

“Your God has no power here,” his hissed. “I shall use you and I shall feed
from you as I see fit, and if you please me then perhaps I will kill you swiftly.” His
words were cruel and hard as he lowered his head with unnerving slowness, his
mouth latching tightly onto one pink nipple. The tiny bud at first puckered and
hardened under his assault, his lips drawing and suckling to tease her into a
moment of desire before his teeth bit down and tore at the tender skin. She sobbed
aloud again, her distress alive and invigorating. He allowed a husky groan to
escape before shoving her to the ground and forcing her onto her hands and knees.

The young woman screamed as his hand pulled at her hair, her thin fingers
reaching behind and trying desperately to free herself from his grasp. He forced
her back into position and moved behind her, pushing his erection against her as he
prepared to take her and she cried louder as his intent became clear. He snarled
angrily as her screams filled his chambers, forcing her legs apart and mounting her
in a manner as primal as any bastard beast when he mounts his bitch, driving deep
with one violent stroke. She yelled out in pain and he felt the sticky warmth of her
blood begin to ooze around him as he pierced her virginity before she tried
desperately to scramble away in an attempt to escape the unwanted invasion. He
merely laughed maniacally as his grip on her waist tightened, setting a merciless
pace and pounding ruthlessly into her, splitting her further and enjoying the
building excitement caused by her cries of pain and confused arousal.

“Very nice,” he murmured, his shaft swelling and throbbing as he forced it

repeatedly into her slick channel, so tight it gripped him with fervor and sucked
greedily with each stroke. His hand tugged at her hair, causing her head to snap
painfully back as he moved in and out of her, each time withdrawing almost
completely before burying himself again and sending a fresh stab of pain jolting
through her. With his other hand, he reached down and extended one razor sharp
talon to make a long, neat slice down the length of her spine, shivering with
pleasure as the skin separated and her cries of pain increased. His elongated
tongue flicked and lapped at the blood as it welled up, and with an ear-splitting
howl of his own, he folded his massive frame over her and allowed the beast to
have his due, his thrusts growing more wild and agitated, his desire fueled by her
pain.

And then, the unexpected happened: Umbrian froze with shock as he felt her
orgasm wash over her, her tiny channel convulsing in wave after wave of pleasure,
sucking and pulling at him as he stilled inside.

“You should NOT have done that, little one, for now I KNOW what it is you
like.” He murmured, then smiled wickedly as he closed his eyes and allowed her
rhythmic convulsions to push him towards his own release, holding her tight
beneath him as he emptied himself into her. She gasped then cried out with pain
as a new torture overtook her, his fluid coating her walls and cervix with a thick
sheen of acidic fluid. She began to writhe and squirm as a searing, burning
sensation set in, making it feel as if her core had been set to flame. He smiled,
satisfied, and pulled away from her, the now softened length of him slipping out of
her like a writhing serpent, slickened and cold.

The young woman crumpled to the floor as soon as he released her and she
began to wretch and sputter, coughing and choking on her own bile before finally
falling onto her side, growing still and quiet. He watched her fragile form
dispassionately, feeling no pity or remorse as she collapsed before him. There was,
however, an unfamiliar rise of anticipation within him and he smiled. He could not
remember the last time he had been gifted with such an intriguing pet to play with.
He would feed slowly from this one, he decided, chewing the flesh from her bones
even as he filled her with his seed again and again. Reaching down to grab roughly
at her, he lifted her easily and slung her slight form over his shoulder with cool
indifference. Her breathing was shallow but regular, and he realized with a grim
smile that she must have fainted.

Shrugging and unconcerned, he walked over and tossed her unceremoniously

onto the large bed, a massive collection of plush mattresses framed on each corner
by large columns of intricately carved ivory – or what appeared to be ivory. Thick,
golden ropes were draped around each column to hold back heavy velvet curtains
trimmed in shimmering gold lace. It was stunning until one studied closely and
realized the columns were made of smoothly carved bones, the massive headboard
an intricate pattern of bleached white skulls. He studied her for a moment as her
slight form became lost among the tangle of sheets, then turned away and called
for Peruvias, a male minion he was currently keeping as his own personal
‘assistant’, of sorts. He would put the girl in his charge to be cleaned and prepared
before she was brought back to him for feeding. Perhaps he would even allow
Peruvias to join him, for he enjoyed watching the handsome young minion couple
and feed. The image this elicited was a pleasing one and he smiled wickedly, the
memory of the last meal they had recently shared both vivid and arousing.

Let her rest, he thought hungrily. He wanted her fully awake when next they
met.