"That's quaint," she said then. "I didn't grow up here. I grew up on Malakai, but in the Kylaran diplomatic compound. I thought I knew what it would be like here. But the 'appetites' are stronger here, don't you think?"

  "You think so?"

  "Or the inhibitions are less—same result. I mean, really, your father aside, how many times would you have sex per day if you had your wish?"

  This was possibly one of the oddest conversations I'd ever had. The Kylar are not a chatty people. Even most of the teaching and mentoring that goes on takes place through inference, indirection, and practice. Analysis is something one keeps in one's own head. But I answered. "If you count me having sex with myself, five or six times a day, easily."

  "So this whole 'not coming for a week' is actually a punishment for you."

  "Yes."

  "You're really suffering."

  "Well, not at the moment, but overall, yes." After what I had just been through with Belse and Vorna I could say that with complete truthfulness. I watched her eyes search the air in front of her face while she thought about something. "Is something wrong?"

  She looked back at me. "You're very ... I like the way you look."

  "It's okay to want me, Ghiba." Don’t ask me what made me use her name there, but I did. "It's within your rights, and honestly, I don't mind."

  Now she said nothing.

  "Is there something you want from me?" Now I did wriggle out from the blankets so I could sit up. "You woke me up for a reason."

  "Yes, I did." Her eyes were downcast now as she had some struggle within herself.

  "Would it be easier if I got on my knees?" I suggested.

  She shook her head and I suddenly had an inkling what this was about. Surely Trella wasn't the only noble-born who was finding it impolitic or unfashionable to be something other than utterly dominant?

  "You can tell me," I said, in my best, safe coaxing voice. She glanced up and I realized that I might seem less than sincere. "Swear me to silence. I will not hold it over you." Still, she hesitated. "Ghiba, I've guessed it already. So you had best swear me to it for your own good."

  "Yes." She stood then and pointed to the floor, I climbed out of bed and we went through a brief ritual swearing that ended with me kissing her on the mons. Then she sat down on the bed, her face quite red and her ample breasts heaving. "You know I haven't come since I was eleven years old?"

  I could barely speak I was so surprised. "What changed?"

  "That was the last time my sire asserted himself. He spanked me raw for something I had done and I came while he was spanking me. Then he went on an ambassadorial trip to Maraghi or somewhere and by the time he came back, I was of age." She drew a deep breath. "I've tried. I've had some of the best sex slaves on the planet in my bed and not one has been able to get me to let go."

  "You need to surrender."

  "I saw what you did to that slave girl. You took her apart completely. I... I need that."

  "Let's be clear. Do you need complete and utter humiliation, debasement, and debauchery? Or do you just need your options closed and your will subjugated?" I tipped her chin upward so she had to look at me while she answered. "Because I can do either."

  "Not," she swallowed, trying to get the words out. "Not humiliation. But control. And... I respect you. I need to respect..."

  "And be a little bit afraid?" I said into her ear as I snaked my hand into her hair. I pulled, tipping her face toward mine and exposing her neck. She trembled and I kissed her. "What are you more afraid of, that I won't stop if it's too much, or that I will?"

  She gasped, a lump in her throat making it impossible to speak.

  "Because if you ask me to stop, I will. Irrevocably." I said. Her answer was a stiff nod, or as much of a nod as she could manage with my hand in her hair. "Anything else I should know?"

  She was hanging on that edge of terror, that fear of the unknown, that I found so sweet. It was unfair of me to ask at this point, since I knew she was wound too tight to say anything more. I bent over and kissed her again, tasting the tension. I twisted and lay her down on the bed, and put my mouth to her neck. She arched with pleasure but I trapped her limbs from moving. She was ticklish and responsive both.

  Yes, the neck seemed a good place to start. It wasn't long before she was moaning in response, writhing under me, as I ramped up the intensity of my licking and sucking. There would come a point, I knew, when the sensation would seem like too much to her, where she would struggle at first with herself over it—after all, I wasn't hurting her—and then she would struggle with me physically, trying to pull away, roll over, escape the intensity. Surely any courtesan she had employed knew the basic ways to convince her body to give up, but the clumsy fools probably tied her formally and then flogged her. So artificial, so self-conscious, it would never have the desired effect. Like this though, my body against hers, my desire flaring across her skin, much more effective. Her limbs were long but mine were longer, and my torso wasn't weakened by the fact that someone was licking the pressure points in my neck. She had no chance to escape.

  It was only a matter of time before she realized that. Meanwhile, I feasted on her, on her struggling and on the sweet sweat that sprang up on her skin as she fought. I waited for the moment when not her mind, but her body, would give up, when at a deep level below her conscious self, she would realize she was entirely at my mercy.

  I could almost feel her sinking into that state, as her writhing became less focused, and I was able to worm her out of her tightskin such that she barely noticed. She was slick with arousal and I moved my body up and down hers as I held her down.

  And there she went, the sudden resignation, the almost unconscious choice to give in—I felt the slack move up her spine and quickly plunged a hand between her legs. She cried out but there was no physical struggle left in her. My mouth crept down from her neck to her nipples while my fingers worked her clitoris, and then I slid my fingers inside her and let my tongue take up where they had left off.

  She was quickening nicely, responding to my presence as much as to my touch. As her arousal built I could hear the note of surprise in her cries and gasps. She knew I could bring her off, and so did I. So imagine her frustration when I withdrew, leaving her up on that plateau with no way to climb higher. Her eyes opened in shock and for a moment she looked as if she might have harsh words for me.

  I silenced her with a gesture. "I still want to spank you."

  "But…?"

  "Did you think this was entirely for you? Your body is mine now, to do with as I please."

  She flushed and closed her eyes as I said it, nodding silently to me. I crawled up her body then, as if to kiss her on the neck again, but instead I held myself up as I insinuated my cock between her legs. "Did you think it was only your neck I wanted?" I breathed as I slid easily into her. "That was only the beginning."

  There was a tiny seed of doubt in my mind about this plan, only because I had never suffered anything quite like the previous two days and I wasn't sure if that would affect me. But this was so much easier than what I had just been through, there was no noticeable lag in my abilities. There was an initial spike in her resistance as I began fucking her, and then, much more quickly than before, she gave in.

  I rolled us over so that she was astride me and pulled her face down to mine, my other hand cupping her ass to keep her moving. "Good girl," I whispered to her. Something in the words seemed to break something inside her and she clutched at me. "Would my girl like a spanking now?"

  "Oh yes, plea..." she started to say but I didn't let her finish before my hand made hard contact with her ample ass. The motion drove her onto me even harder of course, a delicious sensation for both of us. I began spanking her with both hands then, matching my pace to the driving of her hips, then gradually increasing it. "Good girl," I said again.

  She came. Her orgasm, from what I could tell, had multiple peaks, and she soon became oblivious to whether I was spanking her or not, and threw her whole body into dragging her clit through my pubic hair. At that point I simply hung on for the ride, concentrating on my breathing in case my own arousal should get the better of me. At last, she slumped.

  She opened her eyes with a smile that was gratifying to see. The look also told me she thought it was over. I flipped her onto her back then and drove myself into her with long, languid strokes. "I'm not done with you, yet," I whispered.

  "But I thought..."

  "I won't come. I know the rules." I relished her confusion, the tension building in her midsection as she tried to partly sit up. "But I want you to come once more, for me."

  "For you?"

  "The last one was for you. Now, for me." She bit her lip but nodded her assent, closing her eyes and sinking back into the bed covers. I hitched my knees partway under her thighs and knelt upright, so now I could fuck her and my hands could get at her clit again as well.

  Thankfully it wasn't difficult to make her come again. This time when the shudders were finished, I let her pull me down to her for a long kiss as I slid out.

  "Thank you," she said, when she could. I lay down next to her and we enjoyed the feeling of each other's limp, damp heat. She pulled a blanket over us.

  "You took a chance, asking me to do that," I said, thinking about what Jelan had done to Miera.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Please, Ghiba, if we'd met at some high society party and done this would be one thing, but here? Where everyone is vying for position? I could have..."

  "I know." Her fingers clutched at my chest. "But I wanted it... needed it to be a little bit real."

  "But you trusted me."

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  She nuzzled against me. "I can come up with an answer to that question, but I would probably be lying."

  "Try it."

  "There's a part of me that says I knew, deep down, that you were a good man and wouldn't ruin me. But I think that's just the story I tell myself to make myself feel better about it."

  "So, what was it really?"

  "I just wanted you so much I'd tell myself anything."

  "Oh." I stroked her hair. "I guess it worked out well for you, then."

  "Rather." I could feel the muscles in her face move as she smiled against my breastbone. "It's odd, the way my household works, the people I trust are the ones I don't respect, and the ones I respect, I don't trust."

  "Do you mean respect, or fear?"

  She thought a moment. "You're right. Respect isn't the right word at all."

  There were old words for these nuances, these differences, words my father had taught me but which were out of fashion, barely spoken since the priesthood had been disbanded. Words she might never have heard on Malakai. I decided I was too tired for a linguistics lesson, though. "But you respect me."

  "Yes." She pushed herself up on one elbow. "Which is why I want to ask you something."

  "Go ahead."

  Now, she hesitated. "I don't want to ask for too much, but I really would like to do this again some time."

  "Me, too. If I survive the next few days," I said it flippantly. I was not truly trying to manipulate her into a position of fealty. Or was I? I liked her, she was sweet, and she would be fun to play with again. I didn't expect a declaration of loyalty on her part to follow.

  But that is what I got. "I'll help you. Anyway I can."

  "You don't have to."

  "I want to." She hushed me with her fingers on my lips. "To do otherwise would be to dishonor the feeling you gave me."

  That momentary feeling that I controlled her, owned her. I wanted to tell her that feeling would probably fade with time, but that would have been belittling. "Very well," I said. "You can actually help me right now with two things."

  "Anything."

  "First, fill me in on what has been happening between the others, and second, let me sleep as long as possible before you hand me off."

  She told me what she could before post-coital drowsiness and fatigue finally dragged me down. As I began to doze I counted off the members of the circle. Eight days, eight of us if we included Trella, but did we include her? Tomorrow had to be Miera, the only one I had not yet seen, and then, I found myself praying with my eyes closed, Zal, Kyl, please Trella take over once I had been with each of them once. If not, Kessa would have me again on the final day. For if what Ghiba told me held true, Kessa was atop the ladder, and surely she would enjoy another crack at me.

  Part Eight

  Ghiba was as good as her word, and when I awoke deep into the next day she was there with food. There was also a strong pungent smell in the air and I wondered at it.

  "I took care of some of your bruises," she said. "You were still black and blue from where we worked you over that first day." Her nose twitched as I took a piece of fruit off the tray, but it wasn't the fruit that bothered her. "There are a few places where you may scar."

  I laughed and she asked what I found so funny. "Nothing. Just... that was the easiest day of this whole... ordeal."

  "Some would be ashamed of such scars."

  "Some lack my innate sense of superiority." Yes, I said it as a joke, but it was true, too. "Besides, don't I have a few old ones?" I rolled onto my stomach and bit into the fruit. She trailed her hands over the skin of my back, and rubbed some more of the anti-bruise medicine into it. "There should be one across my left shoulder, a diagonal slash, and one like a curve under my right shoulder blade."

  Her fingers were cool and pleasant. "I can just barely make them out."

  "Damn. And I was so proud of those, too." I rolled back over to face her. Juice from the fruit ran down my chin and I ignored it, but she didn't, licking it from my face. "They're from when I trained in one of the high houses when I was a teenager."

  "Seriously?"

  I nodded. "My father thought it would be good for me to learn the protocols, the way of things. I spent a year when I was fourteen serving in the capital."

  "My father wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let me come here until two years ago."

  "It was a lark to me," I said. "I'd been at an all male boarding school on Prosadz for a few years at that point, not a Kylaran school mind you, and so sending me here, even though it was for strict training, was like setting the cat among the birds. I took to it like I'd lived here all my life."

  After we ate, she took me to wash—another thing I presumed had been done to me while the implant held me unconscious—and got all the liniments out of my skin. I was just contemplating whether we might have time for a quick fuck in the shower when a red uniformed guard appeared at the door.

  "Come with me," he said, to me, of course, and so naked and dripping, I went.

  He walked me all the way back to the discipline chamber where they had held me the first day of my punishment, and put me back in the featureless cubicle with the blue walls. I wondered if something had changed. Had Siksie changed her mind about letting this play out? Had the emperor found out the truth about his heir? Or was this just another mind game—Miera's, I supposed?

  My impression of Miera was not that she was randomly cruel—I remembered her eyes rolling when Jelan had made me crawl. Perhaps what I had taken for sympathy was only snobbery about Jelan's crude methods. What was she likely to demand? I knew it was a mistake to sit there and dwell on it, which was no doubt what was intended by isolating me there alone. Fear of the unknown is the hardest of most fears to conquer. I meditated on something Siksie had said, about me being like water. Whatever came, I would flow with it.

  Time passed. A guard came and brought me a meal, then later took way the dishes. Still later he brought the device that forced me to eliminate and cleaned me at the same time. And then I waited some more.

  When she appeared in the doorway I was contemplating dozing off. It was Miera there, her face stern and closed, her posture almost military with her hands behind her back. I composed myself into a submissive posture. Something had turned her hard and I had a good guess what.

  "I'm not sure I want to touch you," she said. "But the least I can do is carry out your punishment in good faith."

  "Yes, my lady."

  "I am not yours and never will be. The correct term of address is 'mistress.'"

  "Yes, mistress. My apologies."

  "You dare to continue referring to yourself in the first person?"

  So it was that type of game, if indeed, it was a game. "No, mistress. This humble slave apologizes."

  "You are not humble," she said, her voice quiet with menace. "But you will be." She was wearing only the same black tightskin suit and tunic the others had worn but her voice carried a regal weight. "Explain the rules of engagement to me."

  "Pardon, m… mistress?" I had almost said 'me.'

  "The limits of your punishment, as you understand them."

  I took a deep breath before answering. "This humble slave is being punished for transgressions against his father's word. The punishment is to last eight days, of which this is the sixth, and during that time I … this humble slave is not to come. I..." Zal's whip is was hard to keep from using the first person. "This humble slave knows of no other rules or limits. . . other than the general standards of conduct." I must have been more nervous than usual or I never would have dared tack that little reminder on.

  She ignored it for the moment. "So you submit willingly to what I do."

  I almost said "I do." But thankfully it came out "I-Yes, mistress."

  "And I suppose by general standards of conduct you mean it would be frowned on if you lost a limb during your chastisement." Her eyes flared.

  "This humble slave's father expects him to come home whole," I said with a slight stammer. Because I realized he didn't. He had warned me as much that I might come back to him in pieces, if at all.

  She clucked her tongue. "I doubt very much he expects that," she said. "Your father knows what can happen in the palaces." She brought her hands around to where I could see them, and she had a knife in one, triangular and gleaming, and something that looked like a loop of thick cord, perhaps braided leather, attached to a handle.

 

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