Every dwarf knew and respected the law established in Stonefortune. They ingrained it in their subconscious from birth and lingered there until the day they were no longer alive to abide by it. Dwarven culture valued the law above all. To go against that was not only tantamount to criminality but also to being an enemy of all dwarves.
Stonefortune’s law contained everything one might expect from civilized society, to not kill, steal, or otherwise ruin the sacred, peaceful atmosphere that permeated inside the fortress walls. Though there was one rule that was valued higher than any others, a specialized law, one seen not only in Stonefortune, but any fortress: Do not strike your fellow dwarf when they are drinking. As much as dwarves enjoyed working, they also appreciated the rest in between, and so it was the utmost social faux pas to jeopardize that.
And no one knew this better than the skilled craftsdwarf Bernom Tukorohk. The fort knew Bernom as a man governed by rules and order. Even though he wasn't a noble or anyone with a sway in fortress happenings beyond the intricate items he crafted, Bernom could recite every law from memory, even being able to recall when it was first ratified and under what circumstances. It was a commonly held belief that if the fort ever abandoned its lengthy jurisprudence, he would single-handedly continue to enforce them, though the success of this one-man crusade was often a contentious point to talk about over drinks as Bernom was a subdued individual.
Which is why when, one evening, as dwarves celebrated in the hall with drinks and camaraderie and a vicious crack severed the jovial mood, dwarves were shocked to turn and see the cause of such ruckus. The sight of the quiet Bernom greeted them, him standing over the crumpled form of one Lorfoir Bluntjaw, a male fisherdwarf. The craftsdwarf's soft features were contorted to a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, but even he snapped out of his daze at the realisation that he ruined the festivities. His fists uncurled, his widening eyes shifting from dwarf to dwarf, all returning rapid blinks—some even upturned sneers. The smell of spilled mead wafted around the scene, driving the final nail into the coffin. Bernom just broke the most important rule in the fort—and everyone saw it.
The events leading to such a transgression were never important. All that mattered was immediate punishment. The whole fort witnessed the perpetrator commit the act, and the spectator’s desire for retribution needed to be quenched.
At a distant table sat the expedition leader, his brow furrowed only slightly. He calmly raised a hand, signalling to his enforcer, sat a few chairs down. She nodded, rising to her feet, and with a clearing of her throat, Karlyn walked.
All eyes switched from the wilting craftsdwarf to the hunkering hammerer, with no dwarf willing to make any noise in the hall. The metal clang and squeak of her extravagant steel encasement was all Bernom could hear as she moved towards him. Lorfoir had jumped up and slinked away in fear, making a miraculous recovery from the slight levied against him. They watched as she took her time, knowing that Bernom was trapped. There was nowhere for him to hide, and if he attempted to flee, she would find him. And she knew he knew that, too.
Her feet stopped in front of him, towering over his diminutive frame. He looked her in the eye, not moving an inch. Karlyn breathed deeply, taking in his scent. It was unique to him, the faintest hint of lavender and wood smoke. She couldn't help but smile, almost nostalgically.
"Bernom Tukorohk," she said, "you have been found guilty of violating the law against striking another dwarf while they are drinking." Her voice was cold and emotionless.
He said nothing, instead looking back at the floor in shame.
Karlyn continued, "Do you accept your sentence?" Bernom remained silent. "Then I shall execute it upon you. Follow me to my office, where we can discuss what will happen next." With that, she turned and walked off, leaving the craftsdwarf alone in the centre of the room.
The rest of the dwarves returned to their drinks, watching as Bernom shuffled out of the hall. His head hung low. The craftsdwarf had never been so humiliated before.
Karlyn's office was a large chamber with several shelves and cabinets lining the walls, each containing various items of dwarven law and a multitude of instruments for enforcing it. She had taken to using the space as both a workstation and a place to keep her personal effects, and it was here that Bernom was led.
She gestured to the front of her desk. "Stand there." The craftsdwarf obeyed, staring at the wall. "Now, tell me your name, Bernom Tukorohk. Tell me what happened, and why you did what you did. Don't leave any details out. We want to know every detail of the crime so we may punish it to its fullest extent."
The craftsdwarf's eyes darted around the room, avoiding the gaze of his executioner. He spoke in a monotonous tone, as if he was reciting something. "I'm Bernom Tukorohk. I've lived in Stonefortune for many years, crafting fine works. My ex-wife is a noblewoman, and together we're raising two children, one boy and one girl, and... I struck Lorfoir Bluntjaw because he made a rude comment about my daughter. The dwarf had been drinking, and when I told him to stop, he went on. I lost control of myself, and I lashed out at the dwarf. It was wrong of me."
"Do you accept the punishment?"
"Yes. I deserve it. But please..."
Karlyn paused, considering. The craftsdwarf's temperament was unusual for a guilty party, but she respected it nonetheless. She studied his form, her lustful eyes taking in his physique. Yes, Karlyn would 'punish' him good. "Take off your clothes." Bernom looked down at the floor, hesitating.
"What?"
"You heard me. Take them off. Now!"
Bernom slowly began undressing, first unbuttoning his tunic to reveal his muscular torso, then slipping off his trousers and finally pulling his shirt over his head. His arms hung limp by his sides, his cock dangling from his waistline. Bernom's skin had the same light grey hue as a dwarf's, but his muscles were more defined, giving off a masculine vibe that dwarfs found irresistible. He turned to face her, his chest and shoulders bare. His genitals, covered in black hair, hung between his legs like an afterthought.
She watched him carefully, examining every inch of his body. There was something so endearing about him—a man who could be such a sinner and still have his heart and mind intact. She was fascinated by his physique, which reminded her of a male version of herself. Her eyes wandered up to his neck, where the faintest traces of black ink marred his smooth skin. The craftsdwarf's features had a softness to them, with his cheeks being slightly rounder than his chin. He was handsome in a way that was unique, yet it was hard to put into words. To Karlyn, Bernom was the sexist thing in Stonefortune.
Bernom turned away from her, looking to the floor again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I won't do it again. Please don't hurt me."
Karlyn couldn't help but chuckle. Bernom was unaware of what she was planning to do to him. What she had wanted to do to him for a long time now; ride him senseless until his cock exploded, and then bathe in his cum. She was excited to see how big of a mess he'll make.
Wanting to start slow, Karlyn extended a hand to Bernom's