Article 45606 of alt.sex.stories: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Path: usenet.ufl.edu!usenet.cis.ufl.edu!usenet.eel.ufl.edu!news.bluesky.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!news.alpha.net!uwm.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!news.uoregon.edu!psgrain!agora!agora.rdrop.com!lupus From: lupus@agora.rdrop.com (Anthony) Subject: Jungle Moons 1/3 (erotic S&S, mf ff cons. b&d) X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2] Sender: news@agora.rdrop.com (USENET News) Nntp-Posting-Host: agora.rdrop.com Organization: RainDrop Laboratories Message-ID: Date: Tue, 31 Jan 1995 21:54:25 GMT Lines: 1256 Jungle Moons by lupus@agora.rdrop.com ["Jungle Moons" is the second in a series of erotic sword and sorcery stories featuring the adventures of Wulf the Freelance (the first being "Heart of the Lion" -- send me some mail if you want a copy). This installment continues Wulf's adventures in his ensorceled form, that of an impossibly high-sexed lion-man, in the decadent empire of Xesh. It contains sex of all forms, including S&M (of an entirely consensual nature), lesbian incest, and some really gratuitous, non-sex-related violence. Like the previous story, it has no rape, compulsion, sexual violence, pedophilia, necrophilia, snuff elements, or other things your author finds distasteful. If any of these are your thing, go find it somewhere else... Again, your comments are welcome. Read and enjoy.] Prolog Despite my habit of continual self-deprecation, I like to think that I'm a good person. I only steal from people who can afford the loss, I've never killed save in self-defense, and I occasionally contribute some of my ill-gotten loot to the Temple of Phaedra, to help those less fortunate than myself (even though I suspect the priests use most of it to fund off-night orgies with women from the Red Temple). I have never denied enjoying sex, but I've only wanted it with willing partners. The notion of inflicting pain during sex, or even pretending that it wasn't voluntary had always been somewhat alien to me. I hadn't really caught onto the notion that not everyone in the world feels that way. Case in point: back when I was a lowly swordsman/apprentice sorcerer at the Imperial Magic Academy, I was a lot more idealistic than I am now. I used to stay out late, hoping to interrupt a mugging in progress, rescue a maiden from brigands, or possibly foil a Slaerthist plot to turn the imperial court into geckoes. Much to my regret, I had never had the chance to do any of these things. Never, that is, until that fateful night when a full moon rode in the skies above Godhome, occasionally obscured by drifting grey clouds, and I saw a coffle of hooded, chained figures being herded into a back entrance of the Temple of Kashella of the Nine Whips, a sect known for their exuberance and love of suffering. Readying my saber, I crept closer, noting that as the last figure was herded in by burly, whip-wielding guards, the door shut behind them, but failed to latch. Waiting a suitable period, I edged the door open, loosing my blade and reviewing my meager list of offensive spells. The hallway was narrow, lit by occasional lantern-boxes, and as I slowly made my way down it, I heard disturbing sounds echoing from ahead of me -- the sounds of screams, impassioned blows and pleas for mercy. Gods, I thought, what monstrous evil were the Kashellists up to now? Up to this point, they'd confined their sadism to each other -- now, had they taken to stealing innocent citizens and inflicting wicked torments on their unwilling flesh? Well, if that was the case, they'd have to deal with Wulf the Sorcerer! The corridor widened into a vault-ceilinged room, and I cautiously peeked out into the dim light beyond. The scene was enough to make my blood freeze. In the vast chamber, at least a dozen individuals, male and female, ranging in age from their early twenties to their late fifties, naked or nearly so, writhed in chains, shackles, or on low, leather-padded benches. Tormenting them was a squad of leather-clad men and women, their faces concealed by hoods or masks, all emblazoned with Kashella's whip-sigil. The victims were being whipped with crops, flogged with cats, poked, prodded, their various extremities pinched in vices. There were other-- to my young eyes even less savory -- torments going on, but I didn't wait. I bounded into the room, brandishing my saber (no, not that one -- the metal one... I know what you're thinking, you perverse little mother-grabber...) and trying to prepare a spell of stunning. "Hold, you torturing bastards!" I shouted. "Don't move and no one gets hurt! [Yes, it was an idiotic thing to say given the circumstances, but I was young and stupid] Now, let your prisoners go!" There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone in the room, torturers and tortured, stared at me in wide-eyed astonishment. Then, a familiar voice spoke up. "Wulf? Is that you?" I gaped, my head spinning, as one of the "victims," a portly, middle-aged man, his head strapped into an eyeless leather mask, easily unshackled himself , then pulled off the mask to reveal the rheumy-eyed, bearded countenance of Professor Fimbagel, my Necromancy 101 teacher. I lowered my sword slowly, face reddening, as I realized that not a single victim was racing for safety, and that several of the torturers were giggling loudly under their hoods. "Gods, Wulf," barked Fimbagel, throwing down his mask in disgust. "You sure know how to wreck a good evening." I stepped back, reeling with embarrassment and fled, as the giggles erupted into raucous laughter, from both victims and torturers. As I dashed back down the hall, Fimbagel's voice echoed in my ears. "See you in class, Wulf!" It was my first inkling that the world is often not quite as it seems. * * * * You may know me as Wulf the Freelance, general knockabout and victim of circumstance. Then again, you may not. In that case, I'll simply say that I'm one of those rootless adventurers who's supposed to stride the kingdoms of the world and crush the thrones of the mighty beneath my sandaled feet. Actually, I'm a rather scruffy-looking professional larcenist who knows just enough magic, swordplay, acrobatics and courtly manners to get myself out a convenient door or window whenever the going gets tough. Those who read my previous memoir might remember that when I left off I was still in the form of an n'doro, or lion-man, the result of a veldt-lands sorcerer with a sick sense of humor. I'd been captured by superstitious locals, who had ignored my protestations that while I may have looked like a bipedal lion, I was actually a cowardly, cringing human thief who just wanted to go home and blow what remained of his money on a huge jar of ale and -- if possible -- an attractive young Red Temple prostitute with a recently-validated health certificate. What I got was dragged up onto an auction block and sold to one Countess Xylara, a white-skinned, white-haired, and red-eyed Xeshite noblewoman with, I was later to learn, a taste for the exotic. Of course, given my luck, she wasn't even a deviant in any traditional sense I was aware of, but that's getting ahead of my story. I was taken, still chained and protesting a blue streak to a couple of eunuchs who probably didn't even speak Imperial Common, to Xylara's barge -- an ornate, gilded seagoing abomination drawn by a team of twelve matched hippocampi. There, I was taken belowdecks, and given over to the attention of a second pair of thugs -- ogres this time, who grunted, and urged me into a vaulted chamber. "Wash, cat-boy," growled the first. "The mistress likes 'em clean. Heh, heh, heh." "Heh, heh, heh, heh," replied the second (apparently they'd both had the same dialog coach), who unchained me, then slammed and locked the door. For the first time in weeks, I was alone and unchained and in civilized surroundings. So civilized, I reflected, as to tip over into the bottomless abyss of decadence. The room was windowless save for a tiny porthole which a sprite might have had a hard time fitting through (I didn't even bother to consider escape by this route), but lit by numerous blue-white mage-globes, items owned, back in the White Empire, only by wealthy nobles and merchants, and then only one or two at a time. Everywhere I looked, I saw richly polished dark wood, brass and soft carpets. The room was subdivided into numerous levels, each railed and comfortably furnished with couches, leather chairs, and even hanging plants, arranged sort of like a reverse ziggurat. All the levels led down to the bottom of the room, where an ocean-sized alabaster tub lay, water gushing in through spigots carved in the form of laughing porpoises. The water steamed gently, and pink flowers floated on the surface. I wasn't sure whether these were special guest accommodations, or if this was considered to be the slaves' quarters -- I wasn't about to question my position. Since I was already naked save for a filthy little loincloth which covered about nothing, I didn't waste a lot of time undressing, but instead plunged into the massive tub, feeling hot water inundate my every pore and orifice, soaking the tawny fur which still covered my body, massaging my weary muscles. With a sigh, I sank beneath the surface, letting the water soak into the rough, matted hair of my mane (I'd been a lion-man for several weeks now, but I still wasn't entirely used to it). When I breached the surface again, I was afraid that the accumulated filth of weeks of travel across the Veldtlands would have turned the water black, but it seemed that some sort of drainage system whisked away the soiled water even as more poured from the spigot. Gods, had I actually managed to land on my feet yet again? I was, after all, a cat, if only temporarily. I luxuriated in the water for many minutes, wondering exactly what was going to happen. Of course, I had my suspicions; Xeshites are a notoriously perverse and sybaritic race, and the countess' expression when she bought me had been anything but wholesome and generous. She had, I thought, looked at me with the same expression as a spoiled rich child presented with a unique and expensive toy by an indulgent parent. Given the Xeshite's well-known propensities for deviant behavior, I harbored few illusions as to exactly what she intended to do with her new toy. Lion-men were apparently rare outside the Veltlands (my auctioneer had actually suggested that I was some kind of coward since I'd allowed myself to be captured alive), and I suppose the various Xeshite men, women and animals might get tiresome and dull after the fiftieth or sixtieth time. I sighed. It wasn't much later that I got my first inkling as to what Countess Xylara intended. Along the wall of one of the middle-elevated sections of the room, a panel slid silently open. Its appearance, though soundless, made me jump, setting up a tidal wave of hot, perfumed water and flower petals. Through the opening came a remarkable vision. It was a woman -- human, and by the look of her hailing from Litharna or Murvane. She was short, pale-skinned, with a tiny, triangular face and large, brown eyes. Her hair was jet black, tied into a long braid which hung down behind her. She wore a pale lavender satin robe, which swished and moved alluringly as she approached me. Behind her, the panel slid shut once again. "Hello," I said as politely as I could muster, in Imperial Common. "Uhh..." "Hello, lion-man," she replied in a pleasant voice, sensuously accented and heavy with implications. "I am Alrynna, slave to Countess Xylara. "Uhhh..." I said again, trying to keep my mouth from hanging open. I was acutely aware that she was naked beneath the robe, and I hadn't enjoyed the carnal company of a female since the life-sucking daemoness at the Alabaster Temple, an experience which I wouldn't have wished on my worst enemy. I felt a faint stirring beneath the water, and hoped that it wouldn't be too obvious. "Charmed. I'm not really a lion-man, you know..." "It doesn't matter," Alrynna replied, gliding forward like a cloud. "Xylara wanted a lion-man, so lion-man you shall be. I have been ordered to offer myself to you, lion-man. As Countess Xylara is your mistress, absolute and unquestioned, so are you my master, to do with as you choose." As I gaped (I should really stop being so astonished at how randy everyone else in the world is, but they keep surprising me), she slipped out of the robe, presenting to me a body carved of pale stone, legs full and muscular, a whispy thatch of pubic hair between them, belly slightly curved, breasts small and well-formed, her pink nipples stiffening as they were exposed to the air. "How may I serve you, master?" she asked. "May I join you in your bath?" "Of course, if you want," I babbled, the old human Wulf showing through the muscular and exotic lion-man exterior. "I mean, I haven't seen a woman like you in..." She stepped into the water without raising a ripple and silenced me with a kiss, fitting her lips to my short muzzle and slipping her tongue into my mouth. "No talk," she whispered. "The Mistress wishes me to please you." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "She instructed me to repeat these words to you exactly: `This slave is yours. Do with her as you choose. If she does not please you, whip her or beat her as you like. She is not to deny you any pleasure, short of her own death. If she shows the least hesitation in any way, you may punish her, then inform me so that I, too, may punish her. She is commanded to serve and obey you as she serves and obeys me, and as you are to serve and obey me when the time comes. Enjoy the pleasure of her body, and take her as hard and as often as you desire. So say I, Countess Xylara of Xesh'." I gaped, jaw hanging. These words, repeated in that soft, sensual voice, from that delicate mouth, its owner sitting beside me, naked in the warm water, white skin wet, tiny breasts just beneath the water, were like foul curses issuing from a Rexxaran vestal. I was speechless. "Do you understand my mistress' words?" she asked, concern etching her elfin features. "If I have not recited them to your satisfaction--" "No!" I barked, making her jump and splash more water. "You did fine. Nothing wrong with your delivery at all. You were perfect. In fact, possibly the best recitation from memory I have ever heard. No need for punishment or chastisement of any kind." "Oh." I'd swear she looked disappointed. "I am glad that my master is pleased with me. Now," her features hardened, and a look of unrestrained lust glittered in her brown-black eyes, "how may this slave serve you?" * * * * If she didn't love her work, she certainly gave a good impression of doing so. We embraced and tongued each other in the bath, warm water lapping at us, hands sliding over slick skin, touching, stroking, rubbing, teasing. In about a half-dozen heartbeats I was as hard as a rock (I forgot to mention that the stupid shaman who stuck me with that trebly-damned lion-man body also gave me an organ the size of a prize Shalban squash -- by the way, that means really big, for people who aren't familiar with Shalban squashes and their dimensions). Her nimble fingers danced up and down my cock's engorged length, alternating pressure with light, tickling touches so cunningly that I was seriously considering coming when she drew me out of the bath and led me to one of the room's several couches. There, she toweled me dry, but as I reached for her she gently stopped me, and stepped back. As I watched, my lust rekindling along with an uncomfortable pounding in my temples, she spent a majority of the time stimulating herself with the towel, and a minority of it actually drying herself. She rubbed its rough surface across her nipples, and I watched as they distended into fleshy pink knobs. An observant lass, she noticed that this appealed to me, so she played with them more, stroking and pinching, squeezing so hard that she moaned softly. Then she drew the towel between her legs, pulling it back and forth against the neatly trimmed patch at the junction of her thighs, breathing harder and harder as she did so. The white fabric slipped between the fleshy folds of her labia, rubbing roughly against the soft skin of her cunt, against her clit and -- I assumed, since she pulled it backwards with equal fervor -- her asshole. I realize that this is not a sensation which most women of my acquaintance would relish, but judging by her expression, it put Alrynna into a near-ecstatic state, body trembling, eyes closed, lips tightly pursed, breasts quivering and tight as a mainsheet in a high wind. Well, this would be enough to put any male who expressed even a passing interest in the opposite sex well in the mood, human or not. I was certainly no exception, and I realized that my erection had grown downright painful. I rationalized that since Alrynna had seemed so eager to please, it couldn't hurt to put her to the test. "Get over here, gorgeous," I said, sitting up and indicating my uncomfortably hard shaft. "Apply some of that enthusiasm here." She seemed a bit surprised at my phrasing (not the most original in the world, I'm the first to admit), but smiled warmly, replied, "As the master wishes," and slipped down between my knees, soft pink tongue flicking along the underside of my cock. "Does this please my master?" she asked, then gave me one more long lick and encircled my cockhead with her lips. "Oh, yes," I replied, "I would say that it does." My, the woman was talented. As noted, my non-human equipment was considerably more massive than what I'd carried as a man (I've never been obsessed with such things, but it was damned hard to miss), but Alrynna's skilled mouth managed to get around it all, then slide it effortlessly down her throat. Though the sensation threatened to overwhelm me, I was still able to gape in surprise as most of my sizable organ vanished between those seemingly-tiny lips. I groaned. "Harder," I gasped. "Teeth..." She got the idea, lightly scoring the flesh of my cock with her small white teeth, slipping it in and out of her with greater and greater speed and force each time. I felt the hot urgency of building orgasm, and she must have felt it, too, for she released me, then began tugging at my cock with both hands, flicking her tongue across my sensitive head. Another groan escaped me. "Gods..." I managed, "I don't think I can..." I didn't. Weeks of dealing with frustrated lion-man libido (they only have sex every few months, but when they do it's an all-out orgy) combined with a normal human sex drive (that is to say, the desire to have sex more than twice a year) had put me in a horrific state while I traveled alone across the veldt, forcing me more than once into the arms of those reliable stand-bys, Mother Thumb and Her Four Daughters. With the exception of a life-draining snake-daemoness in a ruined temple (an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy -- then again, maybe I would...), I hadn't enjoyed female company in a couple of months. I engage in all this useless exposition to explain why, a moment later, I unleashed a geyser of hot white come all over Alrynna's hands and lips, an event which she greeted with unrestrained delight, continuing to lick and suck and pull at my cock even as my eruption subsided into twitching after-shocks. "Ahhh, master," she said, rolling onto her back beside me, her face still streaked with my come. "Our mistress will be pleased." Rationality returned to me in a sudden rush, and, as Alrynna cleaned us both with towel and tongue, I realized exactly what I'd landed in. I wasn't stupid (I lack good sense most of the time, but I've never considered myself stupid), so the purpose of Alrynna's demonstration wasn't lost on me. She'd obviously been trying me out for the mistress, and would return with the report that I was hung like a mountain troll, came like a volcano, and liked to watch women masturbating with towels (although I didn't come by the first two honestly, the third was legitimate). Rexxara and Phaedra... Was that good or bad? I thought on it for a few moments, watching Alrynna finish sopping up the remains of my orgasm with the towel -- her skin was so white, her breasts so small and compact, her face elfin and innocent... One other thing I should remind you of -- as lion-men only have sex every three to six months, they seem to store up their libidos, and are able to come four or five times in a given session and, as you know, I hadn't had sex in quite a while. Again, I'm running off at the mouth here -- the fact is that my cock began to stir again, and I gazed at Alrynna with newly-kindled lust. As her towel dragged across the sensitive flesh of my organ, it sprang up once more, filling up like a boiling sausage. Alrynna looked up, an instant of surprise flashing in her eyes, then got the idea, and smiled wickedly. "It's back," I said. "I think I'd like to put it inside you this time." "As my master wishes," she said, simply. I figured that she would appreciate a little stimulation of her own. My tongue had approximately the same consistency as the towel she had enjoyed so much -- I figured she'd appreciate my applying it to her with equal enthusiasm. I was wrong. She didn't simply appreciate it, she pretty much went wild. The rough surface scraped at her thighs and she sighed. I touched her mons, and she moaned. I spread the soft lips apart and ran my tongue over the moist pink cuntflesh inside, and she screamed. I drew back. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did that hurt?" She looked down at me with a frustrated expression. "No!" she barked. "Don't stop!" Awfully demanding for a slave, I thought, as I returned to my job, rubbing my tongue against her cunt, touching the rapidly-swelling protrusion of her clitoris. She let out a piercing shriek which rapidly rose into the supersonic, grabbed the back of my heavily-maned head, shoving my face against her pussy. I licked faster and harder -- gods, it didn't seem to hurt her, so I figured what the hell. The harder I licked, the more she moaned and screamed, and when I slipped a finger into her cunt, rubbing the inside walls and feeling her juices come thicker and heavier. A moment later, she did something I hadn't ever experienced before (except later with Narisha, but she's a demon, and they're built differently) -- she tensed, a strangled cry escaping her throat, and unleashed her own orgasm, a flood of sticky, sweet-tasting liquid, rushing out of her pussy, drenching my face, her thighs, and the couch beneath. We fell apart for a few moments, both panting heavily. My cock was still hard enough to cut glass, but she was overwhelmed by sensation for a moment. "Oh, master," Alrynna sighed. "No one but my mistress has ever done that before..." Aha, I thought... the plot thickens. "And I think," I replied, "that you're the first woman who's come all over me. I liked it." "Let me fuck you," she said. "Put your cock inside me..." I wasn't about to argue, and allowed her to slip astride me, holding up my rod, and slipping it between her still-sopping pink cunt-lips. "Ahhhh..." she gasped as she slid down onto me. She was tight, her cunt gripping me, and I slowly slid into her against substantial resistance. She loved every instant of it, releasing a string of tiny moans and sighs, until at last the entire length of my enlarged n'doro penis had filled her. Then the motion began -- slowly at first, she rocked up and down, rising and falling on my cock, her juices lubricating the way, cunt still clinging to me in a tight corolla. I sat up and grabbed her shoulders, rasping my tongue against her small breasts, watching with satisfaction as her nipples swelled and hearing her moans increase. "Harder," she gasped. "Bite me." No longer concerned about hurting her -- damme but it only seemed to excite her more -- I bit down on one luscious pale nipple. An avalanche of contractions raced through her body, and I felt her come around me once more, clamping down so hard that I almost winced in pain. Sensation overwhelmed me and I let my claws -- carefully sheathed until now -- slip out, and ran them, firmly but not too hard, down Alrynna's heaving flanks, leaving tiny pink furrows behind, scratching but not breaking the skin. "Ohhhhh..." Another soul-deep gasp escaped from her, and her cunt closed in on me once more. The heavy contractions continued, milking my cock, squeezing and releasing, until I, too came once more, erupting another load of come into Alrynna's heaving cunt. I'm not entirely clear on what happened after that, since the weariness of the preceding weeks suddenly crashed down on me, and in a few moments I was out cold (not terribly considerate to Alrynna, I realized, and vowed to make up for it later), to dream of what might lie in store for me over the next few months. * * * * Lady Xylara put in an appearance a couple of days later, or rather I was summoned to her presence. The ogres showed up again, friendly as always (an unusual state for an ogre, let me tell you -- normally they have all the personality of a small piece of wood, and the social skills of a rabid wolverine), informed me that I was expected to bathe and groom myself, then escorted me out on deck. The sea was an unbelievably deep blue, choppy and foaming, save for a large bubble around the barge itself which remained flat and placid -- some sort of enchantment, I suspected. This tub needed it -- an ornate nightmare of excessive Xeshite naval architecture, lacking sails or oars, and towed by captive hippocampi, we'd be swamped in anything rougher than a stiff breeze. A squadron of small Xeshite armed cutters also accompanied us, remaining close enough to assist if pirates or Jarreks showed up (whether these were an official government escort, or part of Xylara's household troops, I wasn't able to find out). "In there, puss," grunted my escort, indicating the baroque nightmare near the stern which seemed to serve as captain's (or at least owner's) quarters. "Say hi to the mistress for us." "Heh, heh, heh," said the other. Ogres are easily amused. Not knowing what the hell to expect, I walked through the gilded, overdecorated door and into the scented chambers within. Once more, I felt like a bug on a plate. The center of the room, where I now stood, was its lowest point; the remainder was tiered, like an amphitheater, similar to my luxury prison belowdecks. It was softly lit and hung with silken material, and on the tier immediately above me lounged the pale-skinned, white-haired Xeshite creature who had bought me a week before. She was of the same type as the lovely Alrynna -- that is to say she was small and slender, as if delicately crafted from carved ivory. Her skin was even paler than that of her slave -- milk white, in fact, far paler than any woman I'd ever seen before, without even a trace of color. Her hair was similarly without pigment, luxuriant ropes of pure white, hanging around her like a cloak as she reclined on a low padded couch above me. If she stood, I'd swear that her hair would drag on the ground. The mistress regarded me coolly, with strange eyes. Their whites were normal, but her irises were blood-red, surrounding deep black pupils. Her face was oval, soft and fragile-seeming, her mouth small and a lustrous pinkish color. Countess Xylara was wrapped in a white satin robe, a few intricate traces of red embroidery offsetting the altogether colorless nature of her skin and the fabric. After a few moments, Xylara extended an arm with an elaborate flourish. "Kneel, slave," she said in a high, tiny voice which was at the same time charged with authority. "I am your mistress, and you shall serve me as I desire. You are not familiar with what is expected of a slave, so your current insolence will be forgiven. In future it will not, however. Now, kneel before your mistress." I'm a practical man. I realized that I wasn't in any position to argue. With one call, my delicate little Xeshite bitch-queen could summon a squad of ogres, without the kind sensibilities of my escorts, who would relish the thought of beating me bloody, twisting a few limbs in the wrong direction, snipping off various important parts of my anatomy, and tossing me to the sharks, whom I suspected were different from the ones I'd signed the treaty with, and who probably wouldn't really care in any event. Needless to say, I kneeled. "What would my mistress have of me?" I asked, although, as you might guess, my razor-keen intellect was racing with plans for escape. Unfortunately, none of them would work, so I figured that I'd think on them later. Xylara smiled. "You learn quickly, lion-man. Do you have a name?" "Yes," I replied. The silence stretched out between us as she waited for me to provide it. For my part, all she'd asked me is whether I had one, and I'd be damned if I gave her any more that what was actually required. "Ah," she said at last. "As you obviously won't tell me, I'll have to call you Nummy Muffin Kookoo Butter --" "NO!" I roared. "My name's Wul -- uh -- Chuma, all right? Does that please my mistress?" I snapped insolently, using the name of the lion-man whose pride I'd temporarily usurped. She chuckled. "You have spirit, Chuma. And Alrynna tells me you have other skills, as well. I hope you enjoyed her company." "I liked her well enough," I replied, trying not to let on that I'd spent the last night or two feverishly thinking about her. "I see. Well, that is good, for you will probably be enjoying her company quite a bit from now on." Damn... Maybe this Xeshite noblewoman was going to be kinder than I'd thought... "I can tell that you like the idea, lion-man," she said and laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "Now, although you are my slave, and are bound to do as I desire, I will tell you about myself nonetheless. Perhaps it will help you serve me better." She shifted her position, settling comfortably into her chaise, the fabric of her robe stretching across her breasts, giving me a brief silhouette of a stiff nipple. "Listen to my story, slave. It will tell you much. Xylara The jungle pressed in upon Xesh like a tight green veil, hot and stifling. A great verdant fist of humidity, the entire nation was wrapped in its sweltering embrace, and its people, unable to tame the jungle, simply decided to become like it. In vast stone cities, the Xeshites feasted off the bounty of the jungle, and learned to live with its rhythms. With plentiful food, few went hungry, and the vast surpluses of food created a thriving economy. Hardwoods were harvested from the seemingly inexhaustible forests, gold and silver panned from its rivers, slaves torn mercilessly from its indigenous peoples. The Xeshites grew bored and wealthy. Decadence crept into what was once a prosperous and vital culture. Nobles dwelled in elaborate towers or jungle estates, engaged in elaborate intrigues, complex love affairs, and wild games of love and murder. Many wandered into a wilderness of drug-induced dreams, never to return. Others indulged their most perverse whims, creating mad and horrific amalgams of sex, torture, death and mutilation. The jungle wilderness, where chaos reigned and only the strong survived, had completely taken root in the Xeshite psyche. Count Utharzi yi-Exyndra controlled nine separate estates, ranging from Brass Tower, in the city of Xesh itself, to the riverside complex known as the Moonpool. He had six daughters and two sons. All wished to be the sole heir to Utharzi's vast possessions. His daughters were Tysha -- tall, slender, with long black hair that had never been cut, and who wished only to become a priestess of Phaedra; Udra -- pale of skin, with thin, crinkly red hair and deep blue eyes, a schemer and dabbler in black magic; Nineh -- blonde, lush bodied, given to overindulgence in wine, herb-smoke and dream powders, dedicated only to more and more elaborate debauchery with her harem of slaves, the first of which she recruited when she was but fourteen years old; Daeshi -- skeletally thin, with frosty blue hair, quiet, possessed of a cold and deadly intelligence, daughter of a union between Utharzi and a Litharnan mistress, who died in childbirth; Nyxra -- dusky skinned and black haired, dedicated to her father and apparently untouched by the malevolence and perversity which lurked in the Xeshite soul; and Xylara -- youngest and frailest of the six, born with milk-white skin, red eyes and snowy hair, largely ignored by her father and shunned by the remainder of the family. Utharzi's sons were Kyric -- an athletic, muscular black-haired young man of great bravery, but little intelligence, and Thorvaz -- thin, weak, and gawky, but plainly the brightest and most dangerous of the family. Thorvaz had little time for the elaborate debauchery and affairs which Xeshite tradition demanded, but gave himself instead to the study of sorcery, and the development of an elaborate network of spies, informers and agents throughout his household, and among rival houses as well. Of this family, Thorvaz and Daeshi were reckoned most likely to succeed their father, while the others were expected to receive small shares of his estate. Rather than competing with each other, the two developed an alliance of sorts, with each dedicated to supporting the other's claim, and intent upon a close relationship after Utharzi finally passed away. Exactly how close Thorvaz and Daeshi's alliance was proved the source of many rumors and obscene speculations, but no one was able to prove that their relationship was any more than political. Utharzi himself was a stern, black-bearded man who shunned many Xeshite traditions. He refused to shave his head, and enjoyed engaging in physical labor. He personally led many slave-taking expeditions into the jungle, often returning home with appalling wounds. The Xeshite primarch awarded Utharzi the order of the silver griffin for his selfless bravery during the Third Jarrek Incursion, in which the reptile-men, weary of the constant drain of Xeshite slave-raids on their villages, banded together and tried to sack Xesh itself. It was said that ten thousand jarrek war-canoes filled the harbor of Xesh, and that the city would indeed have fallen had Utharzi and his household troops (many of them jarrek slaves themselves) not held the gates of the primarch's palace for two hours while the Xeshites rallied their forces. Though he had little patience for the meaningless maneuverings of the Primarch's court, Utharzi was an exemplary Xeshite. His estates were maintained by legions of well-trained slaves, who were mercilessly punished for the slightest infraction, but also compelled to constantly express their love and admiration for their master and his family. His entertainments were painstakingly-planned masterpieces of eroticism and violence, often in combination. He maintained a seraglio containing dozens of young men and women from many nations, and there indulged in his various passions, the chief of which was the infliction of pain upon the innocent and untouched. As for his family, Utharzi possessed mixed feelings. Thorvaz and Daeshi pleased him most of the time, though he often disparaged their frailty and unhealthy appearance. He would have much preferred his other son, Kyric, to be his heir, but eventually even Utharzi was forced to admit that the brawny warrior was nothing short of an idiot, fit primarily to fight battles, engage in endless athletic contests, eat, drink, and cavort with concubines. Utharzi's opinion of the rest of his offspring varied. Tysha he genuinely loved, but found her religious ambitions distasteful. Udra, pale-skinned dabbler in necromancy and extra-planar sorcery, generally met with his approval, but was rarely present to receive it. Nineh chose to waste her time in elaborate couplings and carnal excess -- Utharzi thought this foolish, but at length decided it was a harmless phase which she would soon outgrow. Nyxra, seemingly unaware of the wickedness around her, doted on her father and loved him dearly, and Utharzi himself, in a rare display of restraint and fatherly love, saw to it that he did not engage in any of his favorite vices in her presence. Xylara, his youngest, was an albino and prone to many illnesses. Utharzi, who valued vigor and good health, tended to blame Xylara for her weakness, but otherwise paid her little mind. Xylara grew up in a strange world, filled with doting servants, scheming siblings, a distant, disapproving father, and luxuries which might have seemed extreme and decadent in other lands, but were considered entirely normal by the Xeshites. Although Utharzi ignored his youngest, she was given an excellent education by highly skilled slaves, and grew up with a fundamental understanding of language, literature, science, mathematics, magic and history. As her desperate efforts to please her father and so earn his approval proved futile, she grew to realize, as childhood slipped imperceptibly into adolescence, that no one truly cared whether she lived or died, suffered or prospered, and that the only person she could truly rely upon was herself. Xylara often wondered at the strange things her father and siblings did. She learned early what intimate relations between adults were; indeed, she never gave the matter much thought until womanhood bloomed in her, and the first feelings of passion and desire stirred in her loins. At first, her fingers satisfied the needs she felt late at night, and she slept peacefully. As months dragged on, however, the burning desire was harder and harder to quell. She was well into her sixteenth year when she decided to approach her sisters and ask for help. By this time the weakling child, who had not been expected to live past her first year, had grown into a young woman of considerable beauty and intellect. Her studies had revealed many medications and herbs which provided her with strength, and Xylara's own will to live had created a vivacity far in excess of what anyone had expected. All the same, both her father and most of her siblings still thought of her as a helpless invalid, prone to illness and not likely to live long. Of her various siblings, Xylara maintained the best relationship with Nineh, who seemed best able to understand and explain the changes and desires which wracked Xylara's body. She visited her at her private pavilion one summer day, as late afternoon shaded into the shadows of dusk. Nineh greeted her sister warmly. She lounged indolently on a low couch, naked but for light scarves draped over her body, more for aesthetic effect than for warmth or protection. Thick, golden ringlets cascaded from her head, across broad white shoulders, framing a round, soft-featured face. Vain and self-indulgent, Nineh wore cosmetics constantly, her large blue eyes surrounded by black lines of kohl, her eyelids painted sapphire blue and purple, her lips constantly stained blood red. The rest of her body, inadequately concealed by orange and red silken scarves, was lush and full, her breasts pale pillows with large pink nipples, now slightly erect and swollen beneath the light silk, her hips wide and flaring, stomach and thighs full and inviting. Though her rivals and those outside the family often made disparaging comments about her body, calling her fat or corpulent, but Xylara always thought that Nineh's body fit her exquisitely, rounded, lush, excessive, yet also aesthetic and pleasing -- the sort of body which invited adoration and exuded raw desire. "What brings you here, my love?" Nineh asked, stretching languorously, scarves growing taunt across the soft flesh of her breasts. "I'm expecting Grey and Thalim soon." Xylara settled herself on a settee facing her sister. "I have some questions for you. They might even bear some relation to your activities with Grey and Thalim." Nineh's eyes widened somewhat at this, her interest piqued. "Speak on, sister. I'm always happy to aid in your education." Xylara smiled briefly. She was dressed far more modestly than Nineh, in a pearl-grey tunic with a narrow silver belt and sandals, but she was neither embarrassed by her sister's near-nudity, nor self-conscious at her own apparent modesty. She had practiced what to say, and began without preamble. "I know what you do with the slaves. I know the other sisters do it, too, though Tysha seems uninterested. I see pictures in my mind of you and your slaves, when you're all naked, and they're touching you. Sometimes I think of what you do, and I touch myself." She stroked her thighs lightly, and indicated a point between them. "Here." Nineh seemed pleased. "Do you really? Does that give you pleasure?" Xylara nodded. "Oh, yes. It is as if my entire body tingles, and compresses down to a single point. It's as if I'm on fire, and it is all quenched at once. It gives me great pleasure, sister." The blonde woman gave a brief laugh. "Wonderful, Xylara. You please me. We were worried about you for many years." Xylara frowned. "Worried about me? Why?" "You were so... frail," Nineh replied after a brief pause. "You seemed so sickly and unable to care for yourself. Even if you lived, we feared you would never know... the sort of pleasure you describe." "I've had to care for myself, sister," Xylara said dourly. "Neither father nor most of my brothers and sisters seemed concerned." "I was, sister. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for you." "Pity you didn't show it more often, Nineh. It would have improved my life immeasurably to know that you cared for me." Nineh shrugged. "I'm sorry, sister. I do care for you. Perhaps now I can make amends for past inattentiveness." "I'm sure you can. You know that I'm no fool, sister. Fools do not live long in this family." Another laugh. "What about Kyric?" Xylara nodded, smiling grimly. "Without father's protection he'd have been fed to the hounds long ago. In any event, I've lived long enough to know what you do. I've read, I've watched --" "Evidently you have," Nineh interrupted. "I wasn't aware of your presence when I've been at play with the slaves." "You're no fool either, Nineh. You know that father has spy-holes everywhere. Even in your pavilion." Nineh made a dismissive gesture. "Of course. I wouldn't be surprised if the randy old goat has watched me himself once or twice." "To repeat myself, dearest sister -- I know what you do, and I know that it is related to what I feel when I touch myself. I've read all the books. Sometimes I read them before I touch myself. Sometimes I make up my own scenes and imagine them as I touch myself. You are usually in them, by the way -- I've admired the way you do these things for some time." Nineh smiled. "Flatterer." "Scarcely, Nineh. You are good at what you do. Unfortunately, it is all that you do." Nineh took no offense. "It's all I want to do." "You fuck very well, sister. That's the right word, isn't it? 'fucking'?" "It's a somewhat vulgar term." "You scream it out enough when Grey puts his organ inside you." "Vulgarity can be exciting. More discrete observers call it 'sex' or 'making love'." "Fucking will suffice, sister. In sixteen years with this family, I've learned to be direct when I need to be. The fact is, sister, that I want to be fucked. My hand and imagination are good as far as they go, but I want more. I want to fuck like you do." A deep indrawn breath, and Nineh's succulent breasts rose once more. Xylara noted briefly that her nipples seemed to stiffen slightly, silhouetted even more starkly against the thin silk. "Oh, sister," Nineh sighed. "I think that I can oblige you." Deep blue eyes met Xylara's, pinning her like a bird in the web of a crab-spider. "There are many different ways of fucking, to use the term you have so immodestly chosen. Men fuck women, men fuck men, men or women fuck large animals --" "Women fuck other women?" Xylara said, firmly and distinctly. "Perhaps even sisters fuck sisters? Is that what you are getting to? Dearest sister?" Nineh was impressed. "You have grown up better than I'd hoped, my sweet little sibling." She plucked a small silver bell from a nearby table and rang it, summoning a nyman servant, who shuffled in slowly, owing to the fact that he had been blinded. "Tell Grey and Thalim their services will not be needed immediately," Nineh told the servant. "They may amuse each other as they please, but they are to remain ready should I summon them later." "Yes, mistress," mumbled the Nyman, and shuffled out of the room, maneuvering through the furniture by memory alone. "Now," Nineh said, discarding her scarves and sitting up, entirely naked, to face Xylara, "perhaps we can begin the first portion of your education." * * * * Xylara sat on a velvet chaise, legs extended as Nineh crouched between them. Nineh had insisted that Xylara remove her tunic ("It's best to avoid the difficulty of undressing," she had said, pulling the garment up over Xylara's head. "That way we can get to important matters right away.") Nineh placed her hands on either side of Xylara's shoulders, and gazed at her, their faces only inches apart. The soft curve of Nineh's breasts brushed lightly against Xylara's smaller ones, and she felt their nipples touch, and her pulse raced. "I suppose that how to start depends upon exactly what sort of fucking you want," Nineh began. "If you're overwhelmed with passion, and just want to be taken like an animal, Irecommend against any preliminaries. On the other hand, starting slowly is probably the best way to do it overall." "I'd like to go slow," Xylara replied. "It will make it easier to remember everything." "Good." Nineh drew closer. "I've found kissing is a good start." Nineh's lips touched Xylara's. They were warm and pliant, and after a moment Xylara felt her own lips open at the insistent touch of her sister's tongue. Nineh's arms enfolded her, holding her close, soft skin warm and inviting. Xylara's heart pounded faster, now, and she returned the kiss, her own tongue darting into Nineh's mouth, tasting musky moistness. "Oh, sister," whispered Nineh. "You've waited too long..." "Just long enough," Xylara replied, voice muffled against Nineh's lips. "I've waited just long enough." A sparkling throb spread from Xylara's nipples, down through her belly to the warm place between her thighs, and she felt the moisture start. Her hands ran up and down Nineh's back, stroking the carefully-oiled skin, sending tremors through Nineh's body. "I've wanted this so long," Nineh husked, pressing down on Xylara, breasts pillowed heavily against her chest, thighs opening up to slip one of Xylara's legs between them. "I wanted to show you this..." "Show me now, sister," Xylara replied. Nineh slid slowly down Xylara's body, long-nailed fingers lightly scoring the flesh of her shoulders and arms. She stopped at Xylara's small breasts, snow-white, topped with pink nipples growing painfully swollen and erect. "A little play with these helps, Xylara," Nineh said, encircling one breast with her hand. "Are your nipples sensitive?" Xylara nodded, a small moan issuing from her throat as Nineh's nails touched the engorged flesh. "Yes. I touch them when I play with myself." "You like to touch them hard or soft?" "Hard. Sometimes I squeeze so hard they hurt." "I like that," Nineh said. "I love to play with nipples." She squeezed and dug in her nails, making Xylara shudder and moan, louder this time. "I'll let you play with mine later." "Yes." Nineh's face hovered over Xylara's breast, and her tongue flicked out to touch a nipple. "I love to bite, too." "I've seen you," Xylara gasped. "I watched Grey biting your nipples. It made me so excited..." Nineh's lips touched Xylara's aureole, and white teeth grazed her nipple. "Ohhhh, Nineh. Darling... My sister..." Xylara groaned heavily. The throb between her legs grew faster and deeper. "Again. Again, please. You'll make me..." "It's called coming, sister," Nineh whispered. "Are you going to come?" "Keep biting me, please." Xylara felt an edge of desperation creeping into her passion, as if she would do anything for release from the pressure building inside her. Desire built, and she felt like a supplicant, or even a slave, kneeling in chains before her beautiful sister, ready to serve her in any way she desired. "I want to..." "To come? Say you want to come." "Oh, Nineh, I want to come. I want to..." Nineh's teeth bit down again, as her hand massaged the other breast, nails biting the tender flesh. Then she switched back and forth, biting first one nipple, then the other. So hot... So very hot... Please... "Ohhhh, Nineh!" cried Xylara, bucking upward. "OH! NINEH, PLEASE...!" Her cry trailed off into an incoherent moan, and the pressure exploded through her, again and again. Nineh looked pleased. "Just from playing with your nipples, little sister. You will be very popular." Xylara sighed, shocks tripping through her. "I want more, Nineh. I know there's more." Nineh grinned broadly. "And insatiable, too. My admiration for you is growing, little girl." With that, she crouched between Xylara's thighs, and spread them apart with her hands. She stroked the tender flesh between them. "This has many names, as you have probably discovered," she said, blowing lightly on Xylara's thighs. "The most clinical is 'vulva,' but I've always preferred 'cunt.' It's a lovely word, isn't it?" Xylara nodded, feeling the fever building again. "Isn't it lovely? Say it, sister." "Cunt," Xylara gasped. "My cunt." "Goooood," Nineh said gently, stroking once more. She spread Xylara's cunt-lips apart, then touched an index finger to the center of her desire. "This," she said, licking a finger and stroking, "is your clitoris. It's where all the pleasure comes from. It's what your slaves must worship and treat with the greatest love and care. It's called 'clit' for short. Say it." "It's my clit," Xylara said, voice strained and high pitched. "You're touching my clit." "That's not all I'm doing," Nineh whispered. "I'm going to play with your cunt and your clit at the same time." "Will you put your fingers inside my cunt?" Xylara asked. "I've seen you doing that..." "You learn so quickly, little sister." Nineh licked her fingers again, savoring the taste. "Oh, you don't need any more spit, do you? You've got all the juice you need... I'll explain your cunt to you, Xylara. You can put so many things in it. You can put in fingers, or tongues, or cocks -- you know what a cock is, don't you? No? Well, we'll fix that shortly -- or dildoes, or just about anything you want. They all feel so different. I'm sure you'll be wanting all sorts of things inside your cunt, won't you?" "I already do." With tentative hands, Xylara touched her nipples, and felt her pleasure redouble. "I already want something in my cunt." "We'll start with fingers." Nineh slipped her middle finger between Xylara's distended pink lips, feeling soft flesh give way and open for her. Xylara gasped briefly. "Does it hurt?" Nineh asked. "I'm sorry, darling. It's only for a moment." The pain passed shortly, as Nineh slid a second finger into Xylara's cunt, while continuing to massage her clit with her other hand. The heat built and built once more, and Xylara realized she was tumbling headlong into another orgasm, even stronger than the first. "Oh, Nineh," she cried, feeling a tremor in her voice. "Oh, I'm going to come again!" Instead of replying, Nineh pressed her face into Xylara's sopping cunt, a stiffened tongue rubbing her swollen clit, then cleaving the soft fleshy folds beneath. That was all Xylara needed to trigger yet another thundering orgasm. She cried out once more, thighs scissoring together, hands gripping the back of Nineh's blonde-maned head, pushing, thrusting, straining, as another wave of explosive passion raced like white-hot metal through her veins. "Sister..." gasped Nineh, feeling the strength of Xylara's contractions, pressing against her cunt harder and harder, bringing down another wave of orgasm, then licking softly and lightly as the tremors faded away, rising up from between her sister's thighs, face slick with her cunt-juices. "You are so beautiful, sister," she said, softly. "I've dreamed of taking you this way, but I never knew. I was so afraid you'd be sick, or die, or never know what love was like..." "I'm here, Nineh," Xylara replied, waves of warm contentment following the waves of passion. "I wanted you." They stayed alone together for another hour, as Nineh urged Xylara to kiss her, then play and suckle at her breasts, and then play with her cunt and clitoris. Xylara felt drowned in hot, soft flesh, and cried out in joy herself as Nineh came and came again for her, groaning deeply, and crying out how much she loved her sister. They lay together for long moments after that, limbs tangled, lips seeking out soft flesh, hands teasing and stroking. "To see you now, as beautiful as you are," Nineh sighed. "I knew that I wanted to make love to you, and to watch you make love. I've thought of it, and I've played with myself, too. To make love to your own sister -- no one I know has ever done such a thing. Lady Thyma, Duke Xurak's daughter, fucked both of her brothers at once, but that was just to entertain her mother. Now I've had you, my beautiful little sister, and we've done something no one else has done." And so they continued. Nineh informed her of the various ways in which a man could take a woman, then summoned herfavorite male slaves, Grey and Thalim, to demonstrate. Both were strapping, muscular specimens with no ambitions in life save pleasing their mistress (a brief life of drudgery in the mines awaited them should she ever grow tired of either), and performed tirelessly, touching Nineh's young sister with practiced fingers and tongues, and allowing her to exercise their cocks (Nineh explained the various names and functions of the male organ in detail before summoning the pair) as she chose. They took her, one after the other, under Nineh's watchful "Put your lips around Grey's cock," Nineh said, as she sat in a large chair, watching, allowing Thalim to lick her and play with her clit. "Slide it into your mouth. You must relax your throat and let it slip all the way in. Men like women who can do that." Dutifully, Xylara positioned herself beneath Grey and began to lick his stiff organ. Nineh had informed her that both Grey and Thalim had exceptionally large cocks -- all the better to learn on, she told Xylara -- but Xylara discovered to her own surprise, and Nineh's loudly proclaimed delight, that she had no difficulty fitting Grey's thick organ between her lips, and slowly slid it into her mouth, tickling it with her tongue, sliding it out, then letting it slide in, deeper each time. She breathed feverishly as she did so -- the thought of exciting this man so much caused her thighs and clit to throb once more. She salivated heavily, spittle bubbling from the corner of her mouth as she swallowed more and more of the slave man's cock. Finally, the entire length of his shaft was inside her, and she began to pump, slipping the organ in and out of her mouth, lips tightly gripped around it. "Play with his balls," Nineh advised. "Squeeze them gently." Xylara complied, tickling and squeezing Grey's testicles as he moved to her rhythm, his hot shaft thick with her saliva, moving in and out of her. "Go fuck her, Thalim," Nineh ordered. "Put your cock in her pussy. It's best she get it all at once, I think." Xylara could not see Thalim as he gently spread her thighs and rubbed his distended cockhead against her swollen cunt-lips, but she felt him, and another orgasm built inside her like a towering thunderhead before the afternoon downpour. She felt hot juices cascading down her thighs, lubricating Thalim's huge penis, and it excited her even more. She came within moments when Thalim thrust into her, pushing aside the soft tissue inside her cunt with persistent but gentle pressure. "Ahh-mmmm..." Xylara's cries of passion were muffled by the great cock inside her mouth, and she sucked with redoubled enthusiasm. "Get ready to taste him," Nineh warned. "I think Grey is going to leave you a gift." Xylara had read of men's orgasms, but was scarcely ready for the burning gush of semen which exploded into her mouth when Grey groaned and unleashed his pent-up passions. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but much of it dribbled out of her mouth, a long sticky white stream dripping from her chin. From her seat, Nineh applauded. "Well done, little sister. You make me proud!" But she was not finished. Nineh showed Xylara several different positions, ordering Thalim and, after he had managed to develop a second erection, Grey, to take her in as many ways as possible. She sat across Thalim's hips and rocked, letting his cock pound into her. She sucked Thalim as Grey fucked her from behind. She let Thalim lift her up and plunge into her as he stood. She let each of the men position themselves on top of her and fuck her in turn. She even sat on hands and knees without protest as Nineh played with her asshole, lubricating it with oil, and allowed Thalim to force his still-stiff organ into her. She came every way they fucked her. She lost count of how many orgasms she had that day, her body bucking and heaving to the rhythmic thrusting of fingers, the lapping of stiffened tongues, and the heavy pulse of erect cocks. She was in a world that she had only barely known existed, and even then had known only from books. Nineh was pleased, and repeatedly praised her. The two slave men were eventually worn out and crawled away to their quarters, leaving Xylara and her sister to lounge together on Nineh's enormous bed. "Join me, sister," Nineh said. "We'll fuck every wayimaginable, with everyone imaginable." Xylara nodded wordlessly. Her sister, yes. Now, her lover as well. For the time being, the great new universe of sexuality had opened up like an ancient and complex flower for Xylara, and she intended to explore every subtle facet, curve and crevice. And Nineh was her best partner in that exploration. For now, at any rate. For the better part of a year, all went well. Nineh and Xylara made constant love to each other, and virtually every slave they could get their hands on. The other siblings, only barely aware of Xylara's existence even in the best of times, did not concern themselves with her affairs, and contented themselves with plotting and intriguing on their own. Unfortunately for Xylara, her ambitions proved more far-reaching and complex than those of her sister. For Nineh, the pleasures of the seraglio were enough, and endless feverish couplings satisfied her. While Xylara enjoyed her adventures with her sister, she came to realize that sex alone no longer kept her occupied. Now, well into her seventeenth year, and more aware of the world around her, Xylara wanted more. She wanted power, and she was determined to get it. * * * * Xylara continued to read, to question, to investigate. Watching her brother Thorvaz, and in the process remaining unnoticed by him, she noted his network of informers in other families, and his intrigues to gain power for his own family. Her sister Daeshi worked closely with Thorvaz, and the two of them took more and more charge of family affairs as her father grew older and faded into dotage. Xylara began to develop her own spies and informers. Nineh gracefully gave several of her more accomplished pleasure slavesto her sister, and Xylara learned to send these to the parties and feasts of other large families, using them to seduce information and material for extortion. Her first attempts at blackmail were crude but successful, and Xylara soon managed to obtain a substantial income, with which she purchased a small villa in the jungles north of Xesh, where she and Nineh often retired for week-long debauches. Unknown to her sister, Xylara also used the villa to meet with her new agents. As time passed, and Xylara approached her nineteenth year, greater desires stirred inside her. With the exception of Nineh,who had no ambition beyond endless and ever-increasing sexual excess, none of the family had cared for her. All had their own goals, and none involved her. Perhaps, Xylara thought, Perhaps she could take supreme power in the family, and administer her father's estates, possibly replacing other powerful Xeshite dynasties, and taking her place at the side of the Primarch himself. Her espionage redoubled, and some of it began to be directed against her own siblings. Though she learned quickly, and her intrigue skills were the equal of a noblewoman from any lesser land, her brother Thorvaz was no fool. He was aware of his young sister's operations, but thought little of them so long as they did not directly threaten him. But when it came to his attention that she was cataloging the names of his informers, gathering extortion material on him and Daeshi, and even approaching mercenaries with the notion of forming her own household guard, Thorvaz decided that his sister had gone too far. He met with Daeshi on his sister's private yacht in Xesh harbor. On deck in the guttering torchlight, he sat, nursing a goblet of wine and glowering at Daeshi, who stood gazing over the moonlit water. She was clad in a pearl grey gown, with a plain silver circlet and a narrow white belt. She was painfully thin, her hair a tracery of frosty blue-white, her eyes an intense violet-blue. She always spoke softly, and rarely showed anger. "It seems," Thorvaz said, running a finger around the rim of his goblet, "that our sickly little sister has come into her own." "You mean Xylara?" Daeshi asked. "She's certainly come into Nineh enough times. Are you saying that the little cripple actually has higher ambitions?" Thorvaz nodded. "She has obtained a list of all my agents, and I think she means to subvert them, use them against me. She also seems interested in learning the layout of your private estate, and whether you have any lovers or not." Daeshi's calm exterior did not waver. "Not even you know that, brother. A woman must have some secrets." "So must a man," Thorvaz replied, "and I mean to keep mine. The little fool seems to think that she can replace us as father's heir. She needs to be taught a lesson." "I agree. This family can't afford her foolishness. What do you propose? Should we dispose of her?" Thorvaz shook his head emphatically. "No. We can't start that tradition. The Askaly managed to kill themselves off with internecine feuds. I just want her left in a position where she can't threaten us. Or perhaps in a position where father will be forced to deal with her. Having father dispose of a treacherous youngster is far less dangerous than us doing it ourselves." "Of course, brother. I think I can arrange a suitable incident." Thorvaz's curiosity was aroused. "What do you have in mind, Daeshi?" "Hm. Perhaps I should let it be a surprise. Suffice to say, a certain young man from a certain family owes me a favor. I suspect that he will have no objection when I tell him exactly what the favor is." "I look forward to seeing your plan unfold, sister. It's a pleasure to watch you work." "You flatter me brother." Daeshi glided toward him like a ghost, and picked up a silver pitcher. "More wine?" * * * * The annual Primarch's Fete was the crowning moment of the Xeshite social season. All major families were invited, and turned up in their best finery. Dancing, feasting, music, games, and many entertainments went on from sunset of the first day until sunrise of the second. Alliances were made and broken, love affairs begun and ended, trysts consummated, and the usual debaucheries were the engaged in with even more enthusiasm than usual. Virtually no excess was too great, and each Primarch's Fete was greater and more elaborate than the last. Xylara, being the daughter of one of Xesh's greatest heroes and most prominent nobles, had attended fetes since she was seventeen. At the previous year's festivities, she and Nineh had managed to seduce over sixty men and women between them, a feat made possible by taking on as many as four at a time. Nineh had been less than discriminating, and the two of them had been exhausted for a week. This year, however, Xylara was more intent on making contact with those who would help her in her quest for power and influence. For the first few hours, Xylara was lost in admiration of the glittering crowds of overdressed nobles, their legions of slaves, elaborate coaches, wild hairstyles and cosmetics. She danced for a time, with a variety of foppish noblemen, all of whom were either too old or too uninteresting to warrant her attention. It was just after midnight that all her elaborate plans for making contact and building her network of informers came to an abrupt halt. He was tall, muscular, firm-jawed, with long blonde hair and a stern gaze, which fixated her from the moment she saw him. He was dressed in a dark grey waistcoat and black breeches with shiny black leather riding boots. "Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asked. "I'm Parval Syxari." Xylara took a gloved hand, mumbling her name, and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor, where they spun and swayed through elaborate court dances, her mind struggling to comprehend what was happening to her. The Syxari were a rival house. Part of Xylara's mind knew that her father would be furious to even see her dancing with the man, but most of her heart and mind was caught up in an emotional whirlwind, transfixed by Parval's deep blue-black eyes, hypnotized by his deep voice as he whispered endearments to her, telling of how he had seen her the year before, and had spent the intervening months wondering how to approach her. Later, when they were alone on a high balcony, he went so far as to drop smoothly to his knees and confess a deep and unrequited love for her, and ask that she at least favor him with a kiss. That, he said sadly, was all he could possibly hope for. Despite her years of excess and sexual experiment with her sister and their slaves, Xylara had never known the kind of love which Parval offered. She had read of it, true enough, buthad always imagined that such affection and devotion existed only in books. Now, here, alone beneath the stars and the swollen wordsŒshe thought she would never hear. Of course, she was lost. Parval was a handsome man, and far more experienced than Xylara imagined. Though she had had accelerated training in the labyrinthine paths of Xeshite society, much of her remained a naive girl, with little practical experience. As she and Parval wandered the halls of the Primarch's palace, walked in the gardens, sat beside fountains and among statuary, and Parval whispered ever-sweeter endearments to her, Xylara grew thoroughly infatuated, and by the time the fete had ended, she had made an appointment to see Parval at her private jungle villa. * * * * Daeshi told her brother as much a day later. Thorvaz smiled. "Your efficiency continues to astonish me, sister," he said. "They will be together at her cabin, then?" "One week from today, Thorvaz." "Very well. When should we come?" Daeshi considered this. "Somewhat after she does, I think. We should at least let the little bitch have her fun." [End of Part 1] Article 45607 of alt.sex.stories: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Path: usenet.ufl.edu!usenet.cis.ufl.edu!usenet.eel.ufl.edu!news.bluesky.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!news.alpha.net!uwm.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!news.uoregon.edu!psgrain!agora!agora.rdrop.com!lupus From: lupus@agora.rdrop.com (Anthony) Subject: Jungle Moons 2/3 (erotic S&S, mf ff cons. b&d) X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2] Sender: news@agora.rdrop.com (USENET News) Nntp-Posting-Host: agora.rdrop.com Organization: RainDrop Laboratories Message-ID: Date: Tue, 31 Jan 1995 21:57:29 GMT Lines: 1188 Jungle Moons, Part 2 [In part 1, Wulf the Freelance, in the ensorcelled guise of Chuma the lion-man, is bought as a slave by the Xeshite noblewoman Xylara, then given a "test drive" by her slaveŠ woman Alrynna. Later, Wulf is summoned to Xylara's presence, where she tells the story of how she was once the neglected daughter of a Xeshite nobleman, plotted against her siblings, and met the handsome nobleman Parval, son of a rival family, at a grand ball. She arranges a tryst with Parval, not knowing that the entire affair has been arranged by her scheming brother Thorvaz, and sister Daeshi] The days dragged by so slowly that Xylara feared she would scream out loud. Each day, thoughts of Parval's features and his words echoed in her mind, and each night her imagination suggested a million exotic couplings with her new lover. She spent some time with Nineh and the slaves, but it was not enough. Nineh observed a certain lack of interest in her sister, but chose not to ask why; for her part, Xylara kept silent, fearing the reaction of any family member should she be caught scheming with the son of a rival house. At last, the day arrived, and Xylara set out for her villa, accompanied by several discreet slaves. They took a pole barge down the Uyla River, then rode pack-lizards to the heights above, where her small hideaway crouched, hidden amid dense green foliage. It was a small house, but comfortable, built on three levels, with a large courtyard roofed over with greenery, a small bathing pool, dining salon, bedroom and library. It had been badly run down when Xylara purchased it, and had it restored by the most discreet workmen available. Sorcery concealed it from outside observers and kept wild animals away -- here, in fact, Xylara felt safer than in any other place. She called it Arborhall, and it belonged to her alone. Though attended by slaves, all sworn to secrecy, or rendered incapable of carrying tales by having tongues removed, Xylara was determined to have the villa entirely unoccupied tonight, save herself and her lover. She sent all her staff to the small slave quarters down the hill, and set about preparing herself for Parval. Oh, the day passed slowly... She tried on a dozen gowns and experimented with a dozen different combinations of kohl and lip-paint; none of them seemed adequate for the time which she saw coming. Finally, she settled on a full-length silver dress with a deep decolletage, and blood-red lips with shadowy blue on her eyelids. She left off her smallclothes, content to be naked beneath the gown, feeling the softness of its fabric against her bare flesh. And how she longed to touch herself, to think of the pleasures Parval would bring, to carry herself to the brink and beyond, dreaming of his touch, his lips, his loins, his... yes, Nineh would tell her to go on, to think of it all, and not to hold back... his cock, and how it would slip between her moist and willing lips, and linger at the threshold of her cunt, and finally penetrate deep inside her, and she would come and come and come, then he would come inside her, tell her he loved her, and she would swear eternal love and devotion, and then... It was all too much. Xylara forced herself to concentrate on readying herself, but the day went so slowly that as the sun finally touched the horizon and she caught sight of Parval's white boat making its way down the muddy brown ribbon of the river, it seemed as if an eternity had passed. But as soon as Parval swept through the main doors of her villa, grandly handing his long, swirling cloak to a mindless wolfkin attendant, who vanished back down the jungle trail, Xylara knew the wait and self-denial had been worth it. "Darling," he said, an edge in his voice which spoke of the agony of their separation, then approached her and swept her up in his arms. Oh, how she surrendered to him. How she replied to his whispered words of love and longing. How she responded, her heart racing, her breath coming in short gasps, her loins aching, her once-frail body coming to life as it never had before, not even in the presence of Nineh and her most skilled concubines. Oh, how she desired him, how she... ...how she loved him? she wondered. Did she? She wondered, as he lifted her up in strong, corded, muscular arms, and bore her toward the bed chamber, did she love this man? All he had said and done evoked chords of memory from the long, elaborate romances she had read, and of the wild romantic fantasies which had chased each other through her brain since childhood. Fantasies which remained unfulfilled even during her most orgiastic rites with her sister and others. Fantasies of handsome men who spoke of love and carried her to faraway places, away from her father, and her uncaring family, and away from the oppressive heat of the green jungle, away from the thick humidity and horrific stenches, away from the diseases and the rot and the misery. Was this the man who would do this for her, she wondered, surrendering to his touch, allowing him to pull away her gown and gaze down at her naked, willing body, with a combination of hunger and tenderness? Was this the man? Her pounding heart threatened to burst as Parval's strong hands and tender lips roamed over her body, stroking her face, kissing her mouth with hot passion barely restrained, cupping and massaging her breasts, stroking her nipples, then squeezing them and licking them with a rough tongue. "You are so beautiful, lady," he whispered. "I've loved you since I first set eyes on you." "Parval..." "I never dared hope that I could make love to you, hold this sweet naked body close to mine. I want you, my darling." "I want you, too. Take me, please..." Xylara's voice threatened to crack. "Any way you want, darling. Take my body any way you like." A different look flickered through his eyes, then -- a look of passion and desire overriding his former tenderness. She knew what he wanted -- it was what all men wanted. Though she lay entirely naked, milk white skin against the rosy silk of her bedclothes, Parval remained dressed, in his ruffled shirt and breeches. Looking between his thighs, Xylara saw a swelling prominence, a hardness which reflected the harsh hunger now filling his countenance. "Let me take you in my mouth," she whispered. "Let me put you in me." "Yes," he hissed. "Unlace my breeches and take me in your mouth, my darling." The words were rushed, as desire inflamed him. With practiced hands, Xylara unlaced Parval's tight breeches, then pulled them down, revealing gleaming muscular thighs and a rock-hard penis, thick and veined, purple-headed, hot with built-up longing. "Suck me," Parval commanded. Such words from one whom she loved so excited her strangely. She felt a deep wanting, to be taken and possessed by this man, held in bondage and forced to pleasure him. Her breath came even faster, and she felt herself totter on the brink of orgasm just from the thought. Her eager lips sought the great head of his swollen organ, kissing and flicking her tongue at its opening, then tracing the line of his glans, stiffly stroking down its back, tracing its veins, loving its every surface, every contour, desiring it with every fiber of her being. She stroked the proud cock with trembling fingers, scratching lightly with long, blood-red nails, then encircling and tugging at it. "Suck me," Parval said. "Put that cock in your beautiful mouth and suck it. Now." The firm, calm voice of command dragged her steadily closer to explosion, and she encircled the engorged, red-purple member with pouting lips, wet with floods of saliva. He was enormous, filling her mouth, and she felt a sudden moment of panic as his large, strong hands laced behind her head, and he thrust into her sliding down her throat, near to choking her. She gagged for a moment, but he persisted, and in a moment, the great rod slipped into her without resistance, and she pumped and suckled at it eagerly, fingers reaching down to cradle his testicles, and encircling his shaft tightly, stroking it hard even as it drove in and out of her mouth. "Yes," Parval muttered. "I love how you suck me." Passions raced like hot metal through Xylara's veins. "I love you," she hissed, releasing his cock, then sucking it more. "I love your cock. I want you. I want to serve you." She left off sucking, and tugged at his spit-slick shaft with both hands. "Use me," she begged. "Take me. Fuck me." Gods, how the words excited her. "Make me your slave. I want you so, Parval. I want your cock. I want you." She swallowed the great member once more. "I want to be your slave." It excited her so -- what did it all mean? Why did this surrender to the man she loved make her clit throb so, why did the thought of being a whore and a slave make her want to come endlessly, and serve this man in whatever he desired? Xylara did not know. All she knew was that she wanted to give herself up entirely to him, to be an empty vessel to his desire, and to completely submerge herself in the love and control which he gave her. She fell back onto the bed, spreading her thighs apart for his view, pulling the pink lips of her cunt open. "Take this," she said. "Please put your cock in me. Fuck me like a whore, Parval." Parval calmly removed shirt and breeches, standing naked at the foot of the bed, gazing down on her. He resembled a carved alabaster statue, poised and ready to take her however he wanted, regardless of her desires or protests. It excited her even more. Parval walked slowly around the bed, looking down at her with an expression that was at once tender and commanding. "Not yet, darling," he said. "I think you need a little punishment before you earn your reward." Oh... Just the thought of serving this man, of feeling the sting of his punishment, pushed Xylara over the edge, and she felt orgasm clench her body tightly. Tremors wracked her even as his rough hands seized her, turned her over and set her on hands and knees before him. "Good girl," he said. His voice was sweet, dripping with honeyed adoration. "Stay there, and take your punishment, my sweet little slave." Xylara's body tensed, waiting, then pain lashed through her as his flat hand struck her naked buttock. He drew back and struck again, the harsh slap echoing through the room, the pain redoubled. As she kneeled, biting her lip, holding back her cries, feeling hot tears well up in her eyes, Xylara realized that pain from someone she loved was greater than any pleasure. Again and again he struck, raining down blows, turning her buttocks bright red, sensitizing them to the next blow, which came even faster and harder. If she held back her cries then, they were cries of pleasure and joy, not of pain and degradation. At length, the blows slackened, then stopped, and Parval stroked the hot, red buttocks softly. "Very well, lady," he said, softly. "I think you've earned your reward." Xylara rolled over, spreading her legs once more, pulling apart the pink lips, heedless of the hot moisture which now streamed down them. "Take me now, Parval. I belong to you. I want to serve you every way I can. Parval, darling. I want to go away from this place with you, leave our families behind, make a life somewhere else, away from this gods-cursed jungle. Litharna, perhaps, or the White Empire." "Later, my love," Parval said. "Now it's time to give you what you wanted so." With that, he moved atop her, his still-stiff cock slipping inside her seemingly of its own accord, filling her to overflowing. None of the slaves was so huge -- he was the largest she'd ever had, and she felt herself coming uncontrollably as Parval thrust his enormous organ into her. She cried out in a passion she had never before known, coming again and again at his insistent thrusting. "I want to come, my love," he said, with a trace of regret in his tone which puzzled her. "Come in my mouth," Xylara said. "Let me suck you 'til you come." Silently, Parval complied, standing and allowing her to kneel before him, once more slipping his cock between her lips and allowing her to envelop him in the hot moistness of her mouth. She carried on as before, alternately sucking and licking, tugging with her hands, stroking his balls, whispering endearments as she did so. Parval responded as before, taking her head in his hands and thrusting into her, speeding to his own pace, using her body, taking her as she chose. Xylara's heart soared, for she felt fully alive and wanted for the first time in her life. The smashing of wood and the shattering of glass broke her fantasy into a billion shards. A dozen household guards were in the room, swords drawn, and at their head, smirking and strutting like an emaciated peacock in ceremonial armor, was her brother Thorvaz. "Caught you, sister," he said lightly as Xylara drew back and blanched, seeking something to cover herself, to lessen the horror and humiliation she felt.. "Consorting with the enemy. Gods, Parval, what deviltry did the two of you plan? Assassination? Rebellion? The destruction of our household? My sister has become quite the schemer, hasn't she?" "Am I free to go, Thorvaz?" Parval asked, his voice now flat and devoid of the passion and devotion it had once held. "I think I've paid my debt to your sister quite sufficiently." He smiled down at Xylara, who crouched in a heap at his feet. "I'm sorry, dearest, but I was running out of romantic things to say to you." Xylara gasped and felt tears well up inside her -- bitter tears of rage and grief this time. "Oh, do finish, Parval," Thorvaz told him. "You deserve some satisfaction for all your work." "My thanks, Thorvaz," Parval said, grabbing Xylara's head once more. "It's a pity our families are such enemies." With that, Parval began to stroke his cock, holding Xylara firmly by the hair, until at last he came, cascading hot semen into her face and across her trembling lips. "Your sister is good, Thorvaz," Parval said as he dressed, and Xylara lay, sobbing on the floor. "Perhaps you can hire her out. Earn a little extra income." Then he was gone, and Xylara was taken from her villa, still naked, and in chains, her body wracked with sobs. Behind her, as Thorvaz guided their boat down the river, Arborhall blazed, as household troops and slaves looted and burned. Within a month, the jungle would completely reclaim what was once Xylara's only refuge. "You should have stayed with Nineh and her harem," Thorvaz told her. "At least there you did no harm. You dabbled in things you did not understand, sister. You left me no choice but to destroy you." Xylara only stared sullenly at her brother, tears and streaks of semen drying on her face, unable to clean herself for the chains which bound her. They took her before father, and listed her crimes. "Conspiracy, treason, consortion and fornication with avowed enemies of your line, concealment of funds," Thorvaz said, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "Gods know what else she planned, father." Count Utharzi was now far beyond his days of glory, and spent most of his time in bed, his body wracked and wasted. There were those who might have claimed that his life of wickedness and cruelty had led him to this fate, to die by inches in endless agony, but they always did so well out of the old count's earshot. Though frail and wasted, he still commanded great power, and could eliminate anyone he chose with a word. "Daughter," he said, a trace of the old fire lingering in his voice. "You have displeased me." Xylara remained naked and chained, her face still streaked and filthy, and kneeled at the foot of her father's bed. "I am old now, daughter," Utharzi continued, "and I realize that, perhaps, I should have loved you better when you were younger, then you would not have turned against me so." His eyes, sunken in his skull, but still bright, scanned the room. Daeshi was there with Thorvaz, as was Nineh, gazing with concern at her sister. "I see the hand of your older siblings in this matter, as well," said Utharzi, fixing his gaze upon Thorvaz. "Your joy at your sister's downfall is unseemly, my son. If you are hoping that I will disown her, exile her, or even have her slain, you will be disappointed." Now he looked at Xylara, and she seemed to shrink before him. "None of this mitigates the enormity of your deeds, Xylara. My punishment is this: from today forward, no member of this family may see or speak to you, unless summoned here and given leave to do so; I give you my estate, the Moonpool, as your residence, but you may not visit or stay at any other family holdings; finally, since men were your downfall, no man, or male of any race or species, shall ever be allowed to lay his hand on you ever again. You may see and speak to men, but none may touch you, nor you them. Any man who touches you without your consent shall be slain. Neither noble, commoner, nor slave shall sully you with his touch. Should you ever break my decree, all your titles and holdings will be revoked, you will be stripped of all family protections, and sold as a slave. This I decree, though it is with a heavy heart. Now leave, all of you." With that, Utharzi's guards ushered them out of the bedchamber. Xylara was unchained, bathed, and dressed (by female slaves -- Utharzi's decree was already in effect), then sent to the Moonpool, where she remained, attended by slaves. Days stretched into weeks at the Moonpool, and the weeks into months and years. Xylara lived a life of indolence, attended by female slaves, and free to travel and make love as she chose, but never with a man or male of any kind. She bought many slaves, kept them, punished them, discarded them, searching for the happiness she had once known with Nineh, and that she had hoped for with Parval. None helped, until Alrynna, who loved her absolutely, and gave her whatever she wished. She kept Alrynna with her, and even nursed her own kind of love for the pale, dark-haired young woman. Men and males of different species sometimes found their way into her household, to make love to Alrynna as if she was Xylara, and to give Xylara some taste of the fulfillment she would never know. At length, the old Utharzi died, senile and in agony, the spirits of those whom he had betrayed and slain tormenting him in his final days. Perhaps it was the death of his favorite daughter, Nyxra, who drowned while sailing, which stole the last vestiges of the old man's will to live. To what pit of hell he descended, none knew, but most silently hoped it was a deep one. As for Utharzi himself, Nyxra was dead, and what remained of his family had disappointed him; he died without naming a successor, choosing instead to divide his family estates between the various children, in the understanding that the last survivor take the mantle of matriarch or patriarch. His decree regarding Xylara remained unchanged, but by then she had grown accustomed to her new life. Still, the memory of her betrayal burned in Xylara's mind. She was little better than an exile in her own land now, shunned and cast out. It was Thorvaz, she knew. Thorvaz and Daeshi, the hateful conspirators who wanted all the family's power for themselves. She hated them both, and also hated Parval. A foolish pawn, and little else, he had still played with her, and crushed what little belief she had had in the faithfulness of men. She longed for the day on which she would make them all pay. Xylara still desired power, but now she desired vengeance as well. * * * * Wulf "Now you know who I am, and why I am, lion-man," Xylara said, stretching. "I have brought you to be Alrynna's master. You are to make love to her as you would to me." "And you'll watch?" I asked. "You catch on quickly. I'd heard lion-men were rather dim." "You'll find I'm no ordinary lion-man," I said, then after a pause added, "Mistress." "You're arrogant and willful, lion-man," she said. "We'll have that worked out of you someday. In the meantime, prepare yourself. I will summon you before the voyage is done. Be ready for a repeat performance with Alrynna, though I will be there as well." * * * * Xylara kept her promise two days later. My ogre attendants had informed me, in between guffaws, winks and similar antics, that the barge was due home soon. I wondered exactly what lay in store at Xylara's estate, but what happened on the barge proved far more than enough for my delicate sensibilities. I was summoned and escorted in the usual manner, this time taken to a large chamber to starboard amidships. As soon as the door slammed and locked behind me, I took stock of my surroundings, and immediately began to wonder if I really wanted to be there. It was a large room, built of light, polished wood, with heavy beams across the ceiling and along the walls. The beams themselves bristled with hooks and eyebolts. Hanging from the hooks was a wide variety of interesting objects, and it should come as absolutely no surprise to the reader that these included whips, crops, cats, cuffs, collars, thongs, brushes, knives, and a number of items whose exact use was a mystery to me, although I suspected that I had a pretty good idea as to their basic function. Miscellaneous straps and chains hung from the ceiling, and a number of unusual items of furniture decorated the remainder of the room. Almost everything was white, as well -- the leather was dyed white, the metal was enameled. None of it, I was relieved to note, was spotted with red, either. Nearest me was a sort of low bench, equipped with a utilitarian assortment of eyes and straps. One end was padded like a pillow with white leather, while the other was semi-cylindrical, crafted of narrow bamboo slats. I swallowed heavily. A small door at the opposite end of the room opened, and my "owner" entered, dressed in an endearing garment crafted of supple black leather, standing in almost blinding contrast to her snow-white skin. Her legs were exposed, and a criss-cross of lacings down the front, back and sides showed even greater amounts of flesh, though nothing vital was revealed. She wore a pair of knee-high leather boots, and her hair was done up in a single braid, coiled about her head, and then hung down to the middle of her back. "Hello, Chuma," she said. "I made you a promise the last time we talked. I'm here to deliver." I stood impassively. As before, I was dressed only in my loincloth, and I suspected that I wouldn't be enjoying its company for too much longer. She clapped her hands. "Slave!" she barked. "In here! Now!" The door opened once more, and Alrynna entered. This was a somewhat different Alrynna, I had to admit, for she entered with eyes down, moving with a slow, shuffling gait. A black leather collar hung with a number of rings surrounded her neck, while she bore thick cuffs, also with rings, at her wrists and ankles. Beyond that, save for a thin gold chain around her waist, she was completely naked. Slowly, her very manner exuding passive obedience, she walked up to Xylara, then kneeled down, eyes still downcast. "I told you that you could do with this one as you wished," Xylara said, selecting a short black crop from the wall, and using the tip to lift up Alrynna's delicate, pointed chin. She still sought to avoid eye contact. "Isn't that right, slave?" "Yes, mistress," Alrynna said softly. Xylara smacked the crop lightly across Alrynna's shoulders. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, slave," she ordered. "Yes, mistress." Gods... My experiences at Kashella of the Nine Whips' temple came back to me. Under other circumstances, I might have started to look for a suitable weapon so that I could deliver Alrynna from servitude and heroically leap over the side with her, but past events now suggested that she was loving every moment of this. I stood my ground and kept silent, realizing with growing certainty that it was arousing me, as well. "Now," Xylara said softly, "onto the table." "Oh, mistress!" Alrynna attempted to maintain a facade of fearful obedience, but her enthusiasm for the work at hand showed through nonetheless. "Have I misbehaved so? Will you punish me?" A brief look of annoyance flashed across Xylara's features and she barked, "If you're fortunate. Now get on the bench!" Without further word or protest, Alrynna positioned herself on the leather-padded bench, face down into the leather pillow, arms hanging over the sides, buttocks and legs draped artfully across the smooth, semi-cylindrical end. "She's a good slave, isn't she, Chuma?" Xylara asked, walking slowly toward the bench, and taking her time about it. (Personally, I thought Alrynna seemed way too enthusiastic to really be a "slave," but my albino Xeshite mistress was in command here, so I didn't say anything.) She still held the crop in one hand, and lovingly caressed it as she walked toward the supine Alrynna. Okay, okay -- I know what you're thinking. I'm a pretty straightforward person when it comes to sex. I enjoy the company of a happy and enthusiastic woman (and don't even mind if there's more than one), I have experimented with a variety of techniques and positions, and I have experienced the company of several different species and nationalities. On the other hand, I have limits. I have absolutely no interest in taking what is not freely offered (and have gone so far as to rid the world of a couple of deviant males who did), I like my companions to be experienced and of legal age, and I never really liked to inflict pain (I also have never been terribly interested in sex with my own gender -- not that I don't acknowledge the possibility, it's just that I've never met a man who struck my fancy in that way). Then again, there are always exceptions. I like to pride myself in being supportive and accommodating. If a woman wants it from behind, I will give it to her from behind. If a woman enjoys being licked all over, I am only too happy to oblige. If she wants her girlfriend to join in, I am nothing short of ecstatic. So, I suppose that it only naturally follows, if she wants to be tied up and beaten with peacock feathers, I have no choice but to cooperate. It just wouldn't do to have a reputation for being insensitive to a woman's needs... So I watched as Xylara walked slowly and appraisingly around Alrynna, who lay face down on her leather-padded contraption, arms and legs limp, hanging down, the white, rounded flesh of her ass, and the downy-haired pink softness of her cunt exposed. Xylara trailed her white riding crop across Alrynna's buttocks, then flicked it once, connecting with the pale flesh with a sharp snap. Alrynna squirmed alluringly, and Xylara brought the crop down, harder this time, leaving a single red weal. "Like it, my pet?" Xylara asked, voice stern. "Yes, mistress," replied Alrynna, softly. Xylara struck again, the crop snapping down on naked flesh still harder, eliciting a sharp cry from Alrynna. "Say it again," Xylara demanded. "Say it like you mean it." "Yes, mistress," Alrynna said, slightly louder this time. Another blow, and Alrynna's strangled cry was even more heartfelt. "Again! Louder!" "Yes, mistress!" Alrynna shouted, voice midway between a plea and a gasp of pleasure. "Yes, I like that, mistress. I like it when you hurt me..." Her voice trailed off. Xylara delivered one more blow (I suppose just to drive the message home, but I'm not sure), then stopped, gently stroking Alrynna's ass, marked now with several red weals. At last, she spared a gaze in my direction. I still wasn't sure whether she expected me to be on the receiving end of her riding crop (or any of the other devices which hung from the wall), but I had no doubt that I would find out soon. "Like her, lion-man?" she asked, looking me up and down like a horse she intended to buy. "Oh, I forgot -- you've already shown us how much you like her." Xylara returned her attention to Alrynna, who continued to lie silently on the bench, her excitement evident only in her hurried breathing, and the slight shine of moisture on the distended lips of her pussy. Slowly and methodically, Xylara attached the cuffs at Alrynna's wrists and ankles to straps at the foot of the bench, then cinched them down, holding her slave tightly against the leather-padded surface. "You'd like this one, wouldn't you?" she asked. "You'd like to fuck her, wouldn't you?" I remained impassive. With a fierce look, she brought the crop down on the back of Alrynna's thighs, making her cry out and squirm again. "Answer me, slave!" she barked, shaking the crop at me. "You want to fuck this bitch, don't you? Answer me, or you'll get some of this for yourself." I grimaced. "Yes," I admitted. "Yes, what?" she demanded, holding the crop up, as if to strike Alrynna again. "Yes, I'd like to fuck her," I said at last. "And how would you like to fuck her?" Xylara's soft hands ran up and down Alrynna's back and thighs, scoring the white skin slightly. "Where would you like to put your cock into this little slut?" I was getting the idea. "Anywhere the mistress wishes," I replied. This seemed to satisfy her. She turned away, leaving Alrynna panting harder as she lay against the bench, her limbs stretched tight and immobile. My gaze wandered back to Alrynna's exposed ass, decorated with the evidence of Xylara's attentions, and the quivering lips of her cunt, moist with excitement, below. Xylara looked back at me for a moment, noting my erect cock, and selected a long, cylindrical object from the wall, decorated with low bumps and irregularities. She walked back toward Alrynna. "Her ass, I think," Xylara said, coolly, stroking Alrynna's pale buttocks, first with sharp-nailed fingers, then with the dildo. "I think you should fuck her ass." She put down the dildo, then moved back to the other end of the bench and pulled Alrynna's head up by the hair. "You'd like that wouldn't you? "Yes, mistress," Alrynna breathed, and I saw the sheen of perspiration glistening on her brow. Xylara continued to hold Alrynna's hair, and slapped her across the face. "Louder, bitch!" she barked. "Tell me you'd like him to fuck your ass." "Yes, mistress," the slave whispered. "I want him to fuck my ass." "Louder!" Another slap. "Yes, I want him to fuck my ass, mistress!" Alrynna said, an edge of real desire in her voice. "All the way? All the way up your ass? You want all of his cock inside you?" "Yes, all the way. I want him to put his cock all the way up my ass, mistress. Please let him. Please." Again, it seemed enough. Xylara released Alrynna's hair and moved back to the other end of the bench. From beneath it, she pulled a small earthenware crock, stuck in two fingers and withdrew them, coated with a shiny substance. This, she applied to the head of the dildo, then spread Alrynna's ass cheeks and smeared more onto the puckered surface of her asshole. She looked up at me as she did so. "Don't feel guilty, lion-man," she assured me. "This bitch loves it. She loves doing what I tell her to do, don't you, slut?" "Yes, mistress," came the meek reply, trembling with tension and anticipation. Xylara slid a finger into Alrynna's asshole, and the slave's body tensed. "You can fuck her, lion-man," Xylara said, "but there are rules. You're not fucking her. She's just the body. Remember, you're really fucking me." She slid her finger in and out, triggering another taut moan from Alrynna. "Think of how much you'd like to fuck me, how much you'd like to have your cock up my ass. Use her the way you'd use me. Don't look at her. Look at me. Fuck me through her, lion-man." With that, she began to slip the dildo into Alrynna, slowly inserting its knobby head between her slick ass-cheeks, then easing it in a fraction at a time. Alrynna's moans grew in intensity, and she strained against the leather restraints which held her. "Like it, bitch?" Xylara demanded. "Say you like it." "I love it, mistress," came the reply. "I love it when you fuck me..." Xylara slapped a buttock, hard, then drove the dildo inside her. "The bitch loves it," she assured me. "She loves me so much." Given Alrynna's enthusiasm, I had a hard time doubting it. As noted, I've never been too excited about that particular form of lovemaking, but once more, if it was what they wanted... Xylara alternated fucking Alrynna and slapping her ass for several more minutes, and I noted that the slave-woman's cunt was sopping now, juices running down the white columns of her thighs. She rubbed heavily against the rough bamboo stroking her clit as her mistress slid the knobby dildo in and out of her asshole. Her cries rose in intensity, and I suspected that she'd come at least twice so far. At length, Xylara left off, pulling out the dildo and dropping it to the floor. "We are ready for you, lion-man," she said. "Put your cock inside her. Remember, that it's me you're fucking." With that, she stepped back, unlacing the crotch of her white garment, pulling it up to reveal her hairless cunt framed by milk-white flesh, and stepped onto the bench, pulling up what appeared to be a padded backrest (hell, did the thing have a built-in oven as well, I wondered?) as she did so, and positioning her thighs on either side of Alrynna's black-maned head. "She'll lick me, now," Xylara told me. "You fuck her ass, and she'll lick my cunt. I'll come for you, lion-man. Look at me and fuck me like you fuck her. Do it." I stepped forward, ready to do as asked. Alrynna's face was busy between Xylara's thighs as I spread her cheeks apart, and rubbed the head of my painfully erect cock at her well-lubricated hole. "Put it in," Xylara gasped, working her clit with her fingers. "Fuck my asshole now." I slid my way into Alrynna, listened to both women cry out, felt past the initial resistance, and thrust inside. "All the way," Xylara urged, voice fast and breathy. "Put your cock all the way inside." I was about half way in now, and both women urged me on. Slowly, I thrust further, watching the heavy shaft of my cock disappear inch by inch into Alrynna's tight asshole. In a moment, I had penetrated all the way to the hilt, and I felt her tighten with another orgasm. Xylara cried loudly, and I suspected that she was coming, too. She pulled up Alrynna's head by the hair again, and slapped her once, twice, three times. "Don't look at this slut!" she cried as she struck. "Don't look at her! You're fucking me, remember! Me! Ahhhh... Suck me more, bitch..." Without protest, Alrynna returned to her intense cunt-licking, and I began to fuck her asshole faster. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Xylara moaned, now almost entirely gone into incoherence. "Fuck my asshole. Put your cock all the way up my ass..." With another deep groan, she came once more. Alrynna continued to hump herself against the bamboo (since my raspy tongue seemed to drive her wild, I suspected that the harsh surface was entirely to her liking), and her cries built up in intensity once more. "Scratch my ass!" Xylara demanded, still writhing in orgasmic frenzy. "Use your beautiful claws on my ass..." I obliged, once more careful, even in the throes of passion, to scratch but lightly and leave only long, pink welts. Alrynna's cries turned into screams, but these were clearly of pleasure. Xylara cried out amid the wrenching passion of orgasm. "Come on me," she begged. "Come all over my ass. I want to see. Come for me..." That was enough for me. I pulled out of Alrynna's ass, and stroked myself to orgasm, jetting white semen across her heaving cheeks. Xylara cried out in pleasure, and I would swear she came again. Overwhelmed, I slid off and collapsed on the floor, letting my come drip down Alrynna's thighs and watching as she brought her mistress to another orgasm before the Xeshite called a halt. "Oh, well done, lion-man," she sighed, and sat heavily at the foot of the bench. Alrynna remained strapped to the bench, still moaning and bringing herself off against the rough bamboo. "You do fuck well." "That," I gasped heavily, "is the nicest thing you've ever said to me." "Perhaps we should see how else she can serve us?" I glanced at Alrynna's flushed face. She turned imploring eyes at me, full of desire and unexpended energy. I realized with an interesting mixture of lust and apprehension, that this had only been the warm-up. Our little slave girl could apparently go all night like a Litharnan lumberjack. "That would be nice," I replied. * * * * Xylara and I washed off in an adjoining chamber. As usual, she did not touch me, though she played with herself for me again, leaving the first stirrings of my second erection lurking deep inside me before we returned to the main room, where Alrynna was still bound and (apparently) waiting eagerly for us. "Miss me, sweet little slave?" Xylara asked, trailing her crop across Alrynna's back and shoulders. "Oh, yes, mistress," Alrynna breathed. "I miss you so when you're gone." "Miss my whip?" "Yes, mistress." "Miss my fingers?" "Yes, mistress." "Miss my tongue?" "Oh, yes, mistress..." " Miss my fist?" That sent a shock through Alrynna's body, and she sighed deeply. "Oh, yes, mistress. I miss feeling your fist inside my cunt. Will you put your fist in me, mistress?" Xylara chuckled, but did not reply, and returned to me where I stood nearby, my erection steadily growing, my mind still trying to comprehend the weird world I'd landed in. "Suck him, bitch," Xylara ordered. "Suck him well, and you'll get what you want." Alrynna looked doubtful. "Mistress, no," she said, fearfully. "He's too big." For a moment, I thought she might be serious, then realized that this was all part of the act as well. Alrynna had already sucked the hell out of me, and hadn't thought I was too big then. After a moment of concern, I relaxed and realized that both the women were well into their roles, and both enjoying the hell out of this. Xylara slapped a hand across Alrynna's ass. "Suck him, bitch. Suck his cock and make him come in your mouth. Suck him or you get nothing." "Please, mistress. I don't want to. He's too big. I want your fist in me." "Suck that cock of his, and you'll get it, you little slut. Otherwise, I'll give you to someone else." "Oh, no, mistress. I want to stay with you. I'll suck his cock for you." "Good girl." Xylara looked at me. "She's a good little bitch when she wants to be." "Yes, mistress. I'm a good girl. I'll suck him for you. Will you put your fist in me if I suck him?" "Of course, if you're good." "Will you?" "Yes," Xylara said, a trace of irritation slipping into her voice. "Promise?" "YES, I PROMISE!" Xylara bellowed, completely nonplused. "Now shut up and suck him off! I swear you are the most troublesome slave I've ever had!" "Yes, mistress. Will you punish me for being so troublesome?" Xylara spoke slowly and deliberately. "Shut. Up. Alrynna." "Yes, mistress." Xylara had me position myself on the seat in front of Alrynna. She unfastened her slave's wrists, allowing her to rise to her elbows, though her ankles were still shackled, her ass still fully exposed to Xylara's tender mercies. As Xylara stepped behind Alrynna, the slave woman fixed me with a huge-eyed stare. "I'll suck you for my mistress," she said, encircling my now-erect cock, tongue flicking out to lick up and down its shaft. "I'll make you come for her." "You'd better, bitch," Xylara said, her mistress persona now back in place. She'd donned a glove of what looked like calf-skin or some other extra-thin leather, supple and shiny, on her right hand. As I watched, she formed a fist, and fitted it between Alrynna's thighs. "Do it right, and I'll give this to you." Alrynna finally took my cock in her mouth and began to suck, sliding me in and out with feverish enthusiasm. "How's she doing, lion-man?" Xylara asked. "Just... fine..." I managed to grind out through clenched teeth. "Good. Think she deserves a reward?" "Oh... Yes... I think... so..." Heat spread from my cock through my belly as the sopping moistness of Alrynna's eager lips enveloped me. "Then I'll give it to her. Ready..." "Mmmm, mistressssssss," breathed Alrynna, holding my cock and licking it up and down. Behind her, Xylara tensed, then thrust her hand into Alrynna's cunt (at least I assumed that's what she did; I couldn't actually see it). Then the muscles in Xylara's arm clenched, and I had a pretty good idea what she was doing. Alrynna shrieked as Xylara's arm thrust into her, then returned to her impassioned sucking at my cock. "Oh, she loves it, doesn't she?" Xylara asked, more to herself than to me or Alrynna, as she pumped her arm in and out, with increasing force and speed. "She loves what her mistress does to her. She loves to be tied up and whipped, doesn't she, my sweetest little love? She loves to have her cunt abused, doesn't she? She loves to have cocks in her mouth, and loves the way they taste when they come all over her tongue. She loves her mistress' fist inside her hot, tight little cunt, doesn't she?" As a matter of fact, she seemed to, for she sucked me with a level of enthusiasm I'd rarely encountered before, staring up at me with eyes full of devotion, her cheeks hollow, her body tensing and quivering each time her mistress' fist thrust into her cunt. Gods, where did these people come from, I wondered idly. I didn't have long to wonder, for Alrynna's talented mouth had me on edge in a few moments. Behind her, Xylara continued thrusting, and continued her narration, directed at me this time. "Oh, you want to come, don't you? You want to see that sweet little face drenched with your come, don't you, you bastard? You son of a bitch, you want to fuck her face and come all over her. Well come now, hear me? Shoot your come all over that bitch's face. Fuck her hard. Make her scream." Alrynna screamed pretty well at that, and I realized that she was coming with mind-numbing intensity. That was all it for me as well, for I came in copious quantities (damned lion-man physiology...), pouring semen into her mouth and all over her face, as requested. "That's right, lion-man," Xylara continued, still thrusting her leather-covered fist into Alrynna's sopping, contracting cunt. "Give the bitch all you have." I complied, disgorging a few more squirts of come, before I once more subsided to the floor. Gods, I thought, this is it, lion-man or no lion-man... Part of me was actually a bit ashamed at this point, for playing in such a vulgar drama. On the other hand, both women seemed to like it, for Alrynna licked up what she could, and kept coming for another minute, while Xylara urged her on with a combination of fist-thrusts and a non-stop stream of obscenities. Finally, they seemed through, as well, and Xylara joined me on the floor, stopping first to unshackle Alrynna's ankles, so that the exhausted slave woman could lie draped and unbound across the strange bench, breathing heavily and moaning, heedless of the white semen which still decorated her face and shoulders. "Well done, lion-man," Xylara sighed, lying a discreet distance from me, and still not touching me. "Very well done." * * * * I suppose it was best for my own health and sanity that we made port a few days later, before Alrynna and her mistress had a chance for another go at me. I spent the time in idle repose, wondering if I would live out my days as a lion-man slave to a decadent, sadistic noblewoman, doomed never to allow a male of any species to touch her. Gods, despite the generous work benefits, I wanted to go home. But still I wondered -- where was home, and would I recognize it when I got there? We docked at Xesh, a chaotic jumble of grey and white stone, an island midway between the sapphire-blue waters of the Ylambian Gulf and the lush green ocean of jungle which covered the entire subcontinent. Various villages, fortresses, estates and other small settlements were scattered over two hundred leagues around the city, but Xesh itself was the jewel of its empire, a place of exquisite decadence, and elegant decay. It was like the setting of a Third Cycle Vildrannic operetta, but it was very, very real. Houses, temples, warehouses, government facilities -- all were built in an ornate, tasteless fashion, in blinding white or deep blue. Many had obviously been added to over centuries, with dozens of competing architectural styles. Sea monsters and dragons fought with elaborate geometric shapes or complex knotwork patterns in the Murvani style; bas reliefs of heroes stood side-by-side with faded frescoes and chipped mosaics. One structure was a stern assemblage of columns and lintels, while the next was a multi-tiered Kaitian-style pagoda or a Queshin revivalist fortress. Just looking at all the buildings gave me a headache. And that was only the beginning. The Xeshites themselves were easy to spot -- they were the ones doing absolutely nothing. Most were conveyed everywhere by slave bearers, and lounged on sedans, in carriages, or even massive couches carried by towering ogres or minotaurs. All affected a look of extreme boredom, as if nothing could possibly stir their jaded senses. Xylara was an unusual Xeshite, in that she was an albino. Most were swarthy and black-haired, though I saw a number of blondes and redheads, and many more who had shaved their hair or dyed it strange colors. Dress was elaborate, expensive and impractical. Fanciful gowns in rainbow colors, revealing shifts or bodices, impossibly wide shoulders, shoes with heels or platforms so high that their owners would have had trouble tottering down the street without falling over. Hair was coifed in dozens of styles, ringleted, woven, braided, coiled, waxed, lacquered, shaved, sculpted. Tattoos, rings in any part of the body capable of taking them, ritualistic scarification -- it was all here, and during my brief sojourn through the city, I barely scratched the surface. I attracted a good deal of attention, since apparently no one had ever had a lion-man slave before. Plenty of other races and species lived here as slaves, though -- most flavors of humans, orcs, goblins, a few dwarves, a very few elves, many throgs, ogres, minotaurs, nymen, and a handful of Kaitians, looking sad and miserable as cats doused in water. The entire nation was built on the labor and misery of slaves; should they ever disappear, Xesh would be devoured by the jungle. And the jungle was all around, at best only barely hidden from sight. The air was hot and steamy, so thick you could cut a piece of it and save it for later. The oppressive paw of the jungle pressed in against Xesh's walls, infiltrating every nook and cranny of the land and its people. Towering green stood all around us, and stretched off into the hazy distance. Ogres carried Mistress Xylara and her favorite concubine, Alrynna. Beloved Chuma got to pad along behind, with the various other human slaves, mostly female, all chained, eyes downcast, overseen by spear-armed male guards. As we trooped through the city, others dodged swiftly out of our way -- exiled and disgraced, Xylara still pulled a lot of weight, by all appearances. We didn't waste any time in Xesh proper. Later, I decided it was so that Xylara could minimize the chances of accidentally making contact with a male in sight of others, since apparently her relations with the rest of the family, except Nineh, had gone from bad to worse. Xylara directed our little caravan through the teeming streets, and to one of the city gates. Outside, the gate opened onto a great muddy clearing of red-brown earth. Here, hired wagons and carriages were waiting. They were drawn by enormous lizards, driven by "friendly" jarreks (only kidding -- a "friendly" jarrek is one who waits a few minutes before hitting you over the head with a club), and we endured a bumpy and uncomfortable ride down slippery jungle roads to a nearby river, where a massive barge lay moored to a dock. "My private barge," Xylara told me as I climbed painfully out of the wagon. She was still on her sedan chair, held aloft by expressionless ogres. "It will take us to the Moonpool." "Glad to hear it," I replied, picking my way through the mud toward the docks. "Nice of you to speak to me, mistress." "It's not a privilege I extend to most of my slaves, Chuma," she said. "I usually don't bother to call them by their names, either. You should be grateful for my attention." "Believe me, I am," I said. "But please realize that I deeply resent myself or anyone else being owned like a piece of furniture. I know it's not my place as a slave to say such things, but I really don't care whether you punish me or not. I'll never accept being a slave, no matter how long I remain one." She was silent for a moment, a number of expressions chasing each other across her milk-white face. Then she smiled a hard smile. "Spirit," she said. "I like it." She struck one of the nearest ogres with a quirt. "Dock. Now." We embarked on the barge, and the ogres poled us out into the wide, muddy river. Now, the jungle closed around us in earnest. Thick greenery grew to the river's edge, often extending well out over the banks; in places trees had fallen entirely into the water. Birdsong and insect drone soared in a deafening chorus, and the heat seemed to redouble, despite the vast expanse of water all around us. I sat and panted, wondering what evil god had conspired to deprive lion-men of sweat glands. We neared Moonpool just as the sun began to sink in golden-red-orange glory, a swollen mass on the horizon. Slaves were lighting torches as we drew up to the docks, and I got my first look at Countess Xylara's private pleasure-palace. Located on a low hill above the river, Moonpool was a round collection of fairy-tale towers and low domes, occupying a gravel-covered clearing about fifty yards from the dock. Slaves carefully tended stone enclosures containing flowers, cacti, and succulents, running the length of the pathway up the hill. A wrought iron gate provided access to the interior, and I gazed about in awe as we walked in. The towers, domes and pavilions were all crafted of some light, shell-like material,and all glowed from inside with warm yellow or exotic blue light. Some were dark, but were set with small chips of eish, a rare and expensive stone which absorbed light during the day, then shone brightly after dark. In the center of the complex, however, was the feature which gave the estate its name. "The Moonpool," Xylara said with a grand gesture. A rocky, roughly circular depression lay before us, with the estate's various structures rising above it. The depression was filled with water, varying from a few inches in depth around the edge, to perhaps twenty feet deep in the center. Mage-globes set at various points beneath the surface lit the entire pool to crystal clarity, revealing a wonderland of rocky spires, waving water-plants, and darting schools of colorful tropical fish, flashing like blue-red beacons in the night. As tired, homesick and world-weary as I was, I could not help gaping with amazement. An intangible quality surrounded the place, welling up like an invisible fog, surrounding me and touching forgotten parts of my heart and soul. I wasn't entirely certain what the Moonpool made me feel, but it was something deep and dark and strange. I looked quickly away, lest I lose myself in its contemplation. "It's beautiful," I said. "Yes, isn't it?" Xylara said, though I detected a dozen more unspoken thoughts behind the simple words. "Reach out and feel it, Chuma. It's enchanted. Probably the most valuable of the family's estates. Swim in the Moonpool and it takes away weariness and sorrow. Swim on the night of a full moon and your wounds are healed, your sicknesses cured." "Is that how you overcame your weakness as a child?" She nodded. "Among other things. I think that father gave me the Moonpool to show his displeasure toward Thorvaz and Daeshi. They were both furious that I got the estate and they didn't, but there's nothing they can do about it." "I see." I looked back at the Moonpool as darkness deepened; its depths vanished in shadow, and its mysterious depths seemed to go on forever. * * * * Several weeks passed at the Moonpool before that sick little psychodrama entered its next act. As a pleasure-slave, I was pretty much allowed to do as I chose, save for when the mistress required my "services." I explored the Moonpool estate and the surrounding jungle -- always under the close observation of Xylara's ogres, however. I contemplated a number of different escape schemes, but for the moment, I was content to stay where I was. The Moonpool was a magnificent estate, with carefully-manicured grounds, pleasant pavilions, plush bedrooms, paneled sitting rooms crammed with exotic and rare books, lush dining halls where slaves served endless parades of delicacies. Life was amazingly easy, though in the back of my mind, the human adventurer I once was champed at the bit and wanted to get the hell out and back into hardship, deprivation, and deadly danger. Not that Xylara made things any easier. Her appetites had not declined one iota in the years since her father's decree. If anything, they increased. She had me make love to Alrynna in every conceivable way -- romantically, aggressively, violently, in numerous positions gleaned from Xylara's vast collection of sex manuals, and in every possible orifice. All the time, Xylara watched, or participated as much as possible without actually touching me. Sometimes she wanted me to pretend I was making love to her, and order each act in painstaking detail. Other times, she was content to let me romp with Alrynna without any restrictions or oversight, while she watched and toyed with herself. There were other slaves, as well -- Xylara liked variety, though Alrynna was her unquestioned favorite. She tried me out with at least a half-dozen other females -- a sleek Kaitian (an interesting experience, given that we were both of a feline persuasion, even though mine was not my original body), a shy but excitable Kybanni, a blue-skinned Danikar, a Veldt woman, and several more. Still, it was cavorting with Alrynna and me which seemed to give Xylara the most pleasure. I suppose a Duvarist sage-wizard (you know, the type who peers into your soul and then tells you that you hated your father and wanted to have sex with your mother, and then charges you 500 crowns) could have analyzed her obsessions and tendencies and come up with a picture of her twisted psyche, but the nearest Duvarist was back in the White Empire, and I never received any formal training. All I knew was that she seemed to live for sex. My guess is that it was one of the only things in her life which truly gave her pleasure, and which she felt she had control over, even if her precise partners were limited. She seemed to adore large cocks, and never stopped raving about the one my n'doro body came equipped with (I think this may have represented some repressed longing for the treacherous Parval; either that, or it was because she'd wanted to have sex with her father, or so a Duvarist might have told her). Despite memories of her capture and humiliation before her father, she loved the thought of being come on, and had finally decided that, while she couldn't actually touch a man, the results of a man's orgasm didn't count. On several occasions she had Alrynna jack me off while she kneeled a safe distance away and allowed my hot semen to splash across her face or breasts. Other times, she had me come on Alrynna, and licked it off. And her strange, dominant love-play continued. Alrynna was always the target of her attentions in this area; I was apparently reserved as a back-up "master." It's not a role I relished, especially, since I have always preferred sex where everyone is equal and able to do whatever they want, but I accepted the role with good grace, realizing that it was nothing more than that -- a role which I played, and which both Xylara and Alrynna went along with. Now, you may think, "Gods, what a setup! Chief pleasure-muffin at a hot albino babe's sex-palace! He can do anything he wants, and gets to fuck endlessly! Lucky bastard!" If you do, you've obviously never been a pleasure-muffin. Let me tell you, after a couple of weeks in service, the novelty REALLY begins to wear off. Everyone likes Litharnan ices, right? Most people I know would kill for a nice greenberry ice with chocolate sauce. However, consider this -- what if that was all you could eat? Ever. And worse, still, what if you were forced to eat them constantly? Obviously, after a couple of days, you'd be thoroughly sick of greenberry ices. Then, after a couple of weeks, you'd be sick for real. Eventually, you would probably die, since the nutritive value of greenberry ice is about equivalent to a piece of soap. Well, sex isn't quite so vital to one's continued health, but the situation was similar. For two or three weeks, my adventures with Xylara, Alrynna, and the various nubile slave-girls of the Moonpool were diverting and original. After a month, they'd gotten downright dull. In another month, I was convinced that I wouldn't care if I never saw another naked woman again as long as I lived. Hair shirts, rope belts, monk's habit and tonsure at an Orlanist monastery -- that was the life for me, yes sir! A few things kept life interesting. Delving into the minds of Alrynna and her mistress, for one -- figuring out what went into making someone a voluntary slave, and someone else a mistress. For my money, sexual slavery seemed dull, while being master or mistress seemed like an awful lot of hard work. I obviously didn't have the right mindset for that kind of lifestyle, I realized. There were some surprises, however. My own assumptions about people like Alrynna ended up challenged when she informed me that she could stop Xylara's whippings and floggings any time simply by asking. It was then that I realized Xylara and Alrynna's dirty little secret -- the fact of the matter was that Alrynna was in charge of whatever happened, and had the control to stop or alter it at any time. Xylara, the "mistress" was, in reality the individual being controlled. The slave received what she wanted, that is to say, pain from someone she loved (which, in Alrynna's mind at any rate, was mixed up with pleasure and therefore largely indistinguishable), while the mistress was forced to provide it, and had to stop whenever asked. I asked her one day while Alrynna and I relaxed beside the Moonpool (it did, indeed have the reputed rejuvenative powers, which Xylara found a perfect aid to our marathon sexual encounters), "Who is the real slave here?" Alrynna looked quizzical, sipping with slow sensuality from a glass tumbler full of fruit juice. We were both naked, but Alrynna wore a white leather collar decorated with silver rings, a complement to her pale flesh. "Why, I am," she said, all innocence and matter-of-factness. "I am slave, and Countess Xylara is mistress. She is your mistress, as well, though your commands supersede all save her's." I glared at her. "Save the speech," I told her. "Tell me the truth, Alrynna. Your 'master' orders it." "Hm." She made a noncommittal sound. "If I refuse, will you punish me?" I sighed (making a sound like a whale breaching, with my deep throat and heavy lips). "I can't win with you, can I?" "I guess you can't, Chuma. I love you all the same." "I think," I replied, thoughtfully, "that you just answered my question." With that I rose and without another word, dove into the Moonpool. It was several days later that, after a surprisingly ordinary bout of bonking (I'd ended up bringing myself to orgasm while watching Xylara and Alrynna in a tight embrace, licking each other's pussies and coming, repeatedly and loudly; despite my increasingly blase attitude about our continuing sexual adventures, the sight of those two together could still get quite a rise out of me), Xylara dressed herself in a white silk r