Author's Note.
I'd originally intended the story to be a stand alone, but on the urging of Gatorhermit and others I found more for the characters. This is a rough draft. I'm looking for opinions. It hasn't been beaten into submission by my Grammar Dominatrix Mistress Red Pen yet so please forgive my comma abuse. Please let me know what you think of where the story is going.
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Alone
. It had never bothered me before. My own company had been my comfort, the only constant in a life in which I had little control.
Lonely
, I'd never thought myself such. More solitary than lonely. But now, since Roth had left, I was lonely. Desperately lonely. The brief glimpse of belonging he'd shown me had so quickly decimated my solitary resolve.
I was lost with him gone;
the thought seemed painfully wedged deep into my very soul. Like the talons of a vicious thorn it stabbed deeper with each breath. Outside the trees had just started to turn, showing the first subtle signs hearkening the start of an early autumn. From my high viewpoint I stared out the water stained window glass at one brown edged leaf, teetering on the edge of a fragile stem, willing it to fall to the ground.
Fall.
So strange to feel such loss.
This aching.
It pierced,
the missing,
hurting so much I was sure that it had physically manifested somehow. Scarred or marked me. I spread my fingers at the center of my chest and pressed into the center of the hurt. I had only known him twelve hours or so. How could it be that without him I was so lost?
After The Choosing he had taken me from the Great Hall up to my new lodgings. In his arms I lay as he swept me up spiral stone staircases, through heavy wooden doors his sure step echoing in the lamp lit corridors. He'd placed me on a bed.
Gentle.
Deep red velvet coverings beneath my naked skin, soft, but not as soft as his caress of his tongue as he lay sucking kisses down the length of my body. He'd fed me from his hand and I'd fed him, from the curve of my neck. At the memory my fingers flew to the slight mark that remained from his teeth. Five days ago now. Five days with not enough air, not enough warmth, not enough....
Him
.
Loss, Echoing loss.
He'd left the morning after The Choosing. His last words to me,
I will return
. But when? Where had he gone? Why had he left me?
"Mistress Chosen, your bath is ready."
Looking away from the window I turned to see my maid Hatha at the doorway Her austere black uniform matched her countenance perfectly. She was as starched as the winged black cap that perched upon her head. I stood from the window seat and followed her into the bathing room that adjoined my suite. Inside the small marble lined chamber I lifted my arms and let her strip off my robe. The first time she had tried to undress me I had resisted. I was not used to the touch of others, especially for such intimate tasks. Ignoring my objections as if I had not uttered a word, she stripped me like a disobedient child. Since that moment I had acquiesced to her service of my body. It was easier than the humiliation of the futile struggle. Hatha's will was unyielding and irresistible, like a water shaping stone. Resistance was as futile as the shore line protesting the tide. In time, water and Hatha would always have their way.
I had come to learn that Chosen did not mean liberated. Selection did not entail me to any sort of free will. I was simply subject to a different set of rules under the watchful eye of Roth's servant Hatha rather than Bandar.
She guided me to the copper bathing tub. A week later I still sighed in pleasure at the sight of the steaming scented water. In the village a full immersion bath had been a weekly privilege. I was not yet used to the luxury of daily bathing.
She held my arm as I stepped into the tub. I no longer fought her for the wash rag; instead I submissively leant forward and waited for her touch. She cleaned my back first in gentle circles. Oddly it did not bother me to be touched so. Ordinarily I had flinched from such contact, now I arched into it as if asking for more. I sighed and sank back against the molded edge of the tub when Hatha had finished with my back, offering her easy access to my unwashed front. I wanted to again ask her where the Prince had gone but I knew she would not reply. Instead I tried another tactic, starting a conversation in the hope that the information I most craved might slip. "Tell me please Hatha, tell me of The Chosen."
She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration as if she weighed each word before speaking, "What do you already know of The Chosen?"
Yet again she answered my question with a question of her own. It was a particular skill of Hatha's that I found most frustrating.
"Different roles?" I asked, deliberately adding another question to the mix. I could have answered her, I knew The Chosen were the privileged servants of the Night Masters, the human arm imposing their will. I knew they had specific jobs, specialized tasks but I wanted to hear Hatha's explanation.
Hatha's hands moved to my chest, soapy fingers first holding the weight of my breasts and then moving to my puckered nipples. My mind fogged as pleasure seeped warm and intoxicating through my body. "The Chosen are all special, but in different ways. They all serve a different purpose. Each belongs to a different class."
I heard her words but it seemed as if they came through the filter of water. Waves of need rolled over me as her fingers continued to tease the hardened tips of my nipples.
"Each Chosen has a different role. You had Chosen in your village did you not?"
Her hands stilled on my breasts for a moment allowing me the thought to answer, "Yes, she was Nastacia Chosen. An advisor to my Uncle the mayor."
"She would be of the Political Class. They are selected for their skills in negotiation and legislation."
"What other classes of Chosen are there?"
Again the hands started to move. This time from the swell of my breasts down my stomach. It was hard to think while nimble fingers danced across slippery skin. I should have asked her to stop, but for some reason the very thought of losing her touch seemed painful.
"There are Selectors, Performers, Warriors, Artists, Teachers..."
I interrupted Hatha to whisper, "And Pleasure."
"Yes and Pleasure." A rare smile crossed her Hatha's face. Her square jawed look softening slightly. "That's what you are my sweet girl. You are of the Pleasure Class."
"I don't think I am."
I still questioned that I had been Chosen. Each day I waited for the announcement that they had made a mistake. I wondered if that was why he had left, if perhaps he had found me lacking.
Hatha paused her delicious stroking and said, "Do you not remember what happened in the in the Great Hall when you questioned your status?"
I nodded, burning with shame to remember the feeling of the brother's hard cock spanking my sex.
"Perhaps you need further convincing," Hatha said plunging her hand deep in the water to cup the aching mound between my legs. She squeezed hard, her fingers slipping inside the sweet entrance while the heel of her hand pushed down on the pubic bone.
She began to circle her hand, just like she had while soaping my back but this time pressing down upon the need that centered between my wet thighs. Soapy fingers lathered my sex. "Look at you arch into my hand. Your body knows. Knows what is has been created to do. You have been Chosen because it is your destiny. You will serve freely, give Pleasure gladly because without it you are nothing."
I wanted to protest,
I'm not nothing.
I wanted to ask more questions,
why do I feel this way?
To know more. But the insistent circling pressure of her hand drove those thoughts from my mind.
All I thought. All I wanted...was
more
.
I arched up out of the water, bowing my back and pushing my sex into her hand.
"The Masters who selected you know. They see all, they see down into your soul. You are made for Pleasure. You are desire. You are wanting. You are coming. Coming now." And as if I were but a mere puppet on Hatha's strings I came into her hand, my sex contracting and spurting out my wanton juices. She raised her palm slick with my release and brought it to her mouth. Closing her eyes she licked the palm as if it were ambrosia.
All thoughts all questions cleared from my mind. All I felt. All I thought was of the ache that centered between my thighs and spread in burning need across my skin. Once was not enough. I splayed my knees, pushing up my bottom into the hand that had stilled between my legs.
"Wanton," she murmured with an enigmatic smile.
I hated her even as my body pleaded for her touch. I hated the need I so desperately craved and the control that had been taken from me.
I did not beg, but I cried—whimpered like an animal in pain as I offered her my swollen sex to use. Abuse. I turned my head away so I could not see her knowing gaze as she brought her hand down to slap at my wet mound. Water sprayed up as her palm met my sex with sharp painful satisfying hits.
My thighs trembled with the effort of arching up to meet her hand. I pushed up on my feet, the edge of the tub digging into my straining neck as I levered my body out of the water. Closer to the slapping hand.
The slaps rained down, hard, hurting, fulfilling the need the gentle stroking hand had started. My thighs seized as the orgasm hit. My body jerked rigid as the waves of painful pleasure consumed me, until I was nothing but the pulse of cum that jetted from my sex.
Spent and ashamed I sank into the water letting my head fall back into the cooling liquid. I heard Hatha speaking but I did not raise my head, staying under the water until finally the burn of my lungs made me rise. As my eyes broke the surface I saw her. She stood before me, offering me a towel. I had once thought myself the master of calm façade, but I had met my match in Hatha. She showed nothing of we had just done. Of what she had just done to me. The only evidence lay in her slightly damp bodice. She stood like a submissive servant despite the way she just mastered me with her hand.
