The Spy in Chains

Like every morning for the last few weeks, I woke up in Cassander's bed, tucked into his slumbering form. For an instant, I enjoyed the touch, his warmth putting a slight smile on my face.

The moment was interrupted by a brusque shake on my shoulder. I rolled over to find Theresia, Renske's mute older servant, looking down at me. Surprised, I blinked the sleep out of my eyes as the woman gestured for me to follow.

Careful not to disturb Cassander, I slid from under the covers, cursing the cold air of the morning. I had grown used to being bare in my owner's presence, going so far as enjoying the thrill it gave me. But I withered under Theresia's gaze.

Once I'd tied the skirt around my waist and slipped on my sandals, I trailed behind her. The Mansion and its grounds were quiet in the early hour, making the sound of our feet on the gravel and fallen leaves even louder. As we approached the low stone bathhouse, my breath hitched.

Since Renske had taken care of me and stolen a kiss after my first time with Cassander, I'd avoided finding myself alone in compromising situations with her. Being summoned alone for a bath in the morning was putting a knot in my guts.

Theresia paused before opening the door, crouching down next to me to pull down my skirt in a single, sharp motion, yanking it to my ankles. Ignoring my gasp, she undid my sandals, leaving me naked in the garden's open air, as I stared panicked at the women's bath's wooden door.

She pointed a crooked finger, urging me to get in, visibly annoyed at my hesitation. But she did not wait before scurrying back to the house clutching my only garment.

I took a deep breath, my toes curling on the rough ground, and pushed the door open. The first room was steeped in steam but was only a small corridor with benches lining either side. The second room's atmosphere was even more humid as volutes of vapor raised lazily from the large basin.

It was an entirely mineral environment, crowned by a low vaulted ceiling. Feminine fragrances filled the air. Carved in the hard stone ground were a series of smooth, rounded furrows feeding hot water to the bath. As expected, the polished surface was warm against the soles of my feet.

"Lucia?" Called out a high, melodic voice.

A lone brazier kept the room dimly lit, its flames playing with the basin's surface to cast reflections all around. But Renske's bright skin glistened like she was emitting her own light.

She was sprawled proudly on the stone bench that circled the bath, her soaked, full breasts sticking out proudly over the water. Her golden locks were tied in a pair of buns to avoid getting them wet.

Green eyes roamed over my body, Renske's smile growing with every inch of explored skin.

I steadied myself before giving a short bow. "Lady Van Lemmet."

"I'm so pleased you're joining me this morning," she said as if I had a choice. She got up, leaving beads of water to drip down her hourglass figure, and held out her hands for me. "Come in."

Carefully, I joined her, resisting the urge to hide by immersing my body under the water. I slipped my hand into her light grasp. As usual, my presence painted a large, gentle smile on Renske's face, and I found myself lured by her radiating kindness. Only the hunger in her eyes kept me on edge.

"You've had a harsh couple of months," she declared with motherly authority. Although she wasn't as tall as Cassander, she still towered over me. She looked down, tilting her head and probing my reaction as she continued. "I figured you could use a bit of pampering."

"Wouldn't it be more appropriate for me to wash you?" I offered, in a little voice, trying anything to escape her touch.

Renske's crystalline laugh bounced against the vaulted ceiling. "Well, the

proper

thing would be for you to obey me." Her impossibly soft hand landed on the side of my face, gently squeezing my cheek as if I were a rambunctious child in her charge. "But like my brother," her voice took on a teasing tone. "I just can't resist how feisty you are."

"Of course, Mistress," I said, my regret over not waking Cassander up growing. I was sure he would have protected me had I asked him.

"Good girl. Stay still," Renske commanded, and I cursed myself with how easily I obeyed her. She turned and picked a clay bowl from the collection of items on the pool's edge. She filled it and poured it over my body, avoiding my head. I shivered when the warm water ran over the sensitive skin of my back.

"I'll have to cut it when we have more time," she said, running her fingers through my red hair. "It's so beautiful. Yet you do nothing with it."

"Cassander doesn't seem to mind." I let the word leave my mouth without thinking, her informal tone making me grow bold.

To my surprise, she chuckled. "I keep telling him he's too lax. But I'm glad he's so taken with you rather than that uncouth soldier."

For a second, I felt guilty about replacing Daphne in Cassander's bed. But it was quickly quashed by the cruelty she'd shown me ever since. My fellow Magisterium Agent never missed an opportunity to remind me of my new place in the world.

Soaked enough for her taste, Renske put the bowl down before taking a glob of viscous soap in her hand. I shuddered as she began rubbing the rose-scented substance into my skin. Not a spot on my body was spared from the crackling of the bubbles.

She seemed obsessed with my breasts. But to my surprise, I was able to contain my unease. After all, they were exposed for all to see, and the magic of the slave contract made sure that I could not cover them. It almost felt like they were a part of me beyond my control at this point.

I could not keep in my scared yelp as she traveled down my belly and cupped my mound. Despite how gentle her touch was, the forced intimacy of her ministrations made me drown in humiliation.

Renske clicked her tongue in disapproval as her fingers brushed over the hair that had grown back since I'd been shaved in the dungeon. I had not bothered to maintain it, and it seemed Cassander couldn't care less.

"That won't do," she said, her voice chillingly calm and assured.

She turned me around, and her fingers slipped between my cheeks, rubbing and probing like it was nothing. The utter loss of control brought tears to my eyes, and I was glad she could not see them.

Finally, Renske released me from her harsh grasp. The water splashed softly around her as she sat back down. Her hands, lingering on my shoulders, pressed me down gently, pushing me to my knees, still looking away from her. Only my clavicles and head were sticking out of the water in that position.

Renske poured water over my hair and, a few moments later, applied a lotion to the top of my head. It was cold and made me shiver, but as her fingers rubbed my scalp, the floral scent that wafted from it soothed my nerves.

"At last, you're relaxing," her voice was barely more than a murmur. "It can't be good for you to be this high-strung."

I couldn't tell if she was being facetious or genuinely didn't realize she was the source of my tension. But with my most intimate parts out of her reach, the feeling of her fingers working the lotion into my hair was a wonderful sensation. It felt good to just give in to the gentle care.

She rinsed my hair before braiding it. Each time she would pull on a strand, a series of tingles spread around its base. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch, managing to suppress the purring moan that was growing within me.

"Good girl," Renske said with a chuckle when she noticed my reaction.

But too soon, she had me back up, exposing my wet skin to the air. Clinical in her gestures, she lathered a soapy foam between my legs before producing a razor. I held my breath as she pulled on my sensitive skin and dragged the sharp blade over it.

The fear subsided as she worked, replaced by a sickening sense of detachment. She touched me like a doll, her motions devoid of any recognition of my personhood.

At last, she splashed water over the area, washing away the foam and stray hairs. The sting of shame stayed with me, even as her hands withdrew, leaving me raw and bared.

Resnke stepped out of the basin, dragging me behind her, leaving me mesmerized as water cascaded from her curves. I started when my eyes landed on Theresia, who was carrying towels and fresh clothes. Renske had managed to put me off so much that I had failed to notice the return of the old servant. This was unlike me, I thought, unsettled.

"Thank you, Theresia," said Lady Van Lemmets as she accepted a towel from her hands.

Facing her naked body outside of the water, I could not help but feel like a little girl compared to her. Her tall, voluptuous frame stood in stark contrast to my lithe figure. And she had a nest of golden curls between her legs, while she had ensured that I was smooth.

I stayed quiet as Renske ran a towel over my body, her caring motions sparing not an inch of my skin. Theresia moved to help her when I was dry, and I sat immobile, fascinated by their complete lack of modesty.

"Get dressed, sweetheart," said cheerily as the old woman kneeled to work on her legs. "We're supposed to break our fast with your Master. I don't want to be too late."

The mention of Cassander made me reach through the bond without really thinking about it. I was eager to rejoin his side. Whether it was from the indoctrination of the Contract or the slight ache I still felt between my legs from our nightly couplings, I could not tell.

"He's in the study," I said, pulling my skirt up. The familiar fabric made me feel like I was wearing a full suit of armor despite the heightened rubbing sensation on my shaved skin.

"Let's get going then," Renske answered, eager as ever. Theresia had wrapped a thick robe around her that still showed a large amount of cleavage.

The grounds were busier as Lady Van Lemme led me to the study, her hang firmly gripping mine. Despite the amount of skin she had on display, the household men made a visible effort to avert their gazes. Unlike with me, there would be consequences for offending the mistress of the estate.

As we entered the study, I pushed aside the memories of my first time in this room. In the daylight, the room seemed even cozier, the smells of the small hearth blending with the leather of the rows of books and the delicacies laid out on the low table.

Cassander was already seated, his green eyes lifting as we arrived. I felt his surprise to see Renske and I appear together, quickly followed by the usual flicker of pleasure my half-naked form stirred in him. That quiet thrill of being noticed lit my face with a smile, and my steps quickened as I crossed the room, leaving his sister behind me.

I slid onto the couch beside him, instinctively tucking myself into his firm side. His arm came to rest on the backrest behind me, his fingers brushing lightly against my shoulder in a welcomed gesture of possessiveness. Compared to Renske's oppressive touch, Cassander's dominance was casual, almost natural.

She sat on the opposing couch, visibly annoyed to see me right back in his orbit.

"That explains why I woke up alone in my bed," Cassander mused, not really addressing us.

"I'm allowed to spend time with Lucia," Renske said, a note of petulance in her voice. "You promised."

I felt a pang of concern radiating from him, making my heart beat just a little faster.

"I didn't say otherwise," he assured, in a gentle attempt to soothe his sister.

Renske delicately picked up a pastry from the table before shifting into a languid sprawl. Her mostly naked legs curled on the couch, her back reclined on the armrest. In this new position, the loose robe parted dangerously, teasing glimpses of her golden curves. Only the swell of her shoulders and a silken sash tied around her waist held the fabric to her chest.

Cassander's unease flowed through me as he quickly averted his eyes from the exposed skin, even though the crowns of her breasts were still obscured. For both of us, trying to reconcile her childish demeanor with the reality of her womanly form was unsettling. He gestured for me to partake in the breakfast.

"Good," Renske said, the slight curve of her lips leaving it unclear whether her provocative display was intentional or oblivious. "This is my house, after all. People seem to forget that too easily."

"Of course," Cassander's tone was downright conciliatory now. "I don't want you to think that I don't know what I owe you. What's mine is yours."

As one of his aforementioned possessions, a shiver ran down my spine when Renske's hungry green eyes landed back on me.

To distract myself, I picked up a wooden mug from the table. I recognized the smell coming from the hot water even before I brought it to my lips. It was flavored with a melange of sweet roots native to the Provinces. A warm nostalgia wrapped around me as a flurry of images of my mother sipping on the very same concoction surfaced in my mind.

Cassander's hand rubbed my back. And I looked up to find him observing me closely. This was not a common drink in the Free Coast. He had gone out of his way to procure it for me. I felt his strange satisfaction at my awed expression.

Renske licked the remains of her pastry from her fingers before getting up to her feet. This time, the robe capitulated, and one of her heavy breasts spilled out, revealing an erect pink nipple.

Undisturbed, she leaned over Cassander, her blonde hair cascading on him, and placed a kiss on his forehead. Under her, he remained frozen, his discomfort at the touch making me wince.

"That's all I wanted to hear from you, dear little brother," her voice was overly sweet. "Now I need to get back. My work awaits me."

She turned to me and pressed her lips to mine before sauntering to the door. Like my owner, I remained stoic and swallowed down the provocation. Cassander managed to gather his spirits and called to her before she exited the room.

"I've left a present for you in your atelier."

Renske acknowledged him with a happy smile. "How thoughtful," she cooed and closed the door behind her.

Cassander sighed, his shoulder dropping slightly.

"Do you like it?" He asked, pointing at the mug.

I realized that I was still holding it tightly, my fingers gripping the handle. But the bond fed me my master's relief at Renske's departure, and I relaxed, glad for the change of topic.

"Yes," I said, straightening my back. "How'd you guess?"

He reached out, taking a strand of my red hair and twirling it lazily between his fingers. His eyes lingered on it, seemingly fascinated by how the morning light played on its coppery hues.

"Not hard to guess you're not fully Imperial," he said in an even tone. "Your father was a soldier who brought back a Provincial woman in his baggage?"

I stiffened at the insinuation. "My father is a Knight," I said in a clipped tone, pushing down my indignation. " And my mother met him when she was studying in the Capital, thank you very much."

He blew air through his nose. "How come I didn't know that?" His eyes finally met mine, curiosity dancing on his face. "Would you look at that, you're actually a noble. Renske might be right. You're far more appropriate for me than the commoners I usually dally with, Lady Elena."

"If your mother was truly noble like you claim," I cut in before he said something that would truly make me come off my hinges. "You'd know that Knighthood is not hereditary."

"Well then, let's hope that the service you provide me will be enough to get you commissioned," he said with a sly smile. The implication led to the familiar sensation of my cheeks burning up a little. He leaned closer. "And for your information, I am the grandson of Baron Lysimachos."

The name did ring a bell. A Senator, perhaps? I was distracted by Cassander's hand, which traveled down from my hair to take one of my breasts. It fitted neatly within his grasp, and my nipple woke up against his palm.

"How inappropriate, my Lord Lysimachos," my teasing made him chuckle.

"Get used to it," he said as his second hand landed on my chest, that I was now thrusting at him. "I won't let your impertinence fly once I recover my title."

The fascination for my body painted over his face betrayed his inability to act on his words. Besides, I'd come to recognize this pattern: He loved weaving grand plans when his mood was elevated by desire.

I brought my legs on the cushion, spreading them over his lap, encouraging further exploration. Cassander's face lit up at the invitation.

At first, I was surprised at how easily I could arouse him. The Courtesan bond undoubtedly played its part, giving me direct feedback on his moods. But I was convinced the majority of my teasing came from me alone and not the magic of the Contract.

The years I'd spent buried in celibate studies felt like a distant memory now. Months of slavery had unearthed a sensual part of me that I suspected had laid dormant just beneath the surface of my mind all along.

One of Cassander's hands left my chest to slide under the hem of my skirt. His fingers made contact with my knee, circling it before moving up my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps until he palmed my freshly bald mound.

"That's new," Cassander said, more surprised than pleased.

"Your sister's doing," I replied, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

"Huh, too bad. I liked your hair," pride swelled within me at his answer. "You should throw some attention her way from time to time. It would make both of our lives significantly easier."

"She makes me uncomfortable," I admitted, shocked by my own bluntness. "Something's wrong with her. Besides, I don't get why you're so deferential. The entire household knows you're in charge."

For an instant, Cassander had nothing to say. But then, he brusquely turned me over, bending my body on the backrest. In one tug, my skirt was down around my knees, and I could feel his warm breath against the small of my back. I coiled in anticipation, trying to guess where his lips would land.

"I'm the son of a slave," a first kiss, right above the curve of my ass. "If it weren't for sweet Renske legitimizing me..." Another one, following my spine but reaching the middle of my back. "I'd be a nobody..." He was between my shoulder blades now. "Just another freedman. Like a thousand others."

Cassander's mouth sought me once more, finding the crook of my neck. But instead of kissing, he licked his way to my ear, pulling my hair aside to free my most sensitive skin.

"And you'd have some old fart's cock in your mouth instead of playing with your dashing young master," he finished, peppering my jaw, cheek and ear with light pecks.

I would have laughed at his comment. But his cock slid between my thighs. He entered in one sharp motion and drew a gasp out of me.

We'd moved too quickly for my body to be ready for the penetration. With my legs held close by the garment around them and him over my back, the walls of my heat were molding themselves around his manhood.

I winced at the pinching sensation. But after a few deep breaths and under the constant pressure of his thrust, I could already feel the familiar feeling of my flesh melting to welcome him. I reached back to grasp his soft, dark hair and anchor his face on me. I needed his lips on my skin.

The day had started out on the wrong foot. But with Cassander moving inside me, I could already feel it turning around.

===

"Lucia!" A shrill voice called out. "Can you focus, please!"

I flinched and pulled back from my reminiscence of the morning's events. With a barely contained groan, I turned to find a sharp and judging gaze. Ever since I'd become a slave, Master Otto's apprentices had taken to looking down on me. But Sanne had elevated the condescension to an art form.