It was a wretched existence to say the least of it. Always having the mistress demanding those awful things of you and berating you for your ineptness the whole time. Wixlig had often pondered how he would like to show the mistress just what he thought of her, but he knew better than to give her even the slightest excuse to punish him. He knew all too well what happened to those servants that failed to bow to her every whim.
Today was turning out to be particularly awful as the mistress was in one of her moods. She had already beheaded several of Wixlig's peers for the smallest of reasons and had now been using him as a footstool for the last two hours. His back ached from the weight of her booted feet and the pain in his hand from when she had stepped on it with one of her stiletto heels still lingered.
The way she treated him did not normally bother him; it was his place as servant to accept whatever treatment she deemed appropriate. What bothered him today, however, was that he was not yet accustomed to such personal attention from the mistress. He had been third servant for going on three years now and during that time she had not once asked his name nor gave any indication that he existed. Now, in the span of four hours he had gone from third servant to first servant and had already come close to finding himself headless. Losing one's head wasn't necessarily the worst fate that could befall a Tyrgli (tear – glee); it had to be better than being sent back to the mines.
Truth be known, he enjoyed working directly for the mistress. And therein was the root of his current problem. Although she was more demanding of loyalty and instant obedience than the foremen of the mines, she was also more aesthetically pleasing than the pudgy three-legged foremen; the private quarters given to her servants were far better than the cold rock floor of the mines he would otherwise be sleeping on as well. Although the Tyrgli no longer needed to physically mate in order to reproduce, which was a good thing considering the females of the species had long ago died out, they still had the organs needed for the task. Wixlig had accidentally permitted the mistress to see him aroused after she had promoted him (or rather demoted his predecessors) and instructed him to dry her after she finished her bath.
It was not all that unusual to him to be attracted to her given that he had no females of his own kind to look to. What had surprised him was that the mistress had not beheaded him at once for the transgression. Instead, she had ordered him to sit in front of her throne on hands and knees while she propped her boots up on his slightly emaciated back while constantly reminding him that she was far to beautiful to let such a grotesque creature become aroused by her without proper punishment.
By comparison to her, he certainly was a grotesque creature. His sickly green mottled skin was covered in small, unsightly lumps that were considerably larger along his spine. His head could only be called misshapen by human standards. His large completely black eyes slanted downward towards an almost skeletal nasal cavity. Below that was a slightly elongated, almost insect like, mouth. Above his eyes was a domed forehead that tapered off slightly to the rear until it finally ended in a slightly rounded knob just behind his neck. With the exception of his clawed hands and feet and the genital region, the remainder of his body was fairly similar to a humans. Normally, the Tyrgli genitals remained enclosed fully inside the body, protecting it from injury; when aroused, however, the male appendage protruded outward prominently from its hiding place at the crotch. Slightly larger in both thickness and length than a typical human male, it was still easily conceivable that the Tyrgli and Human species were physically capable of copulating though there was no doubt that the possibility of offspring was biologically impossible.
Had he not been promoted so quickly and so suddenly, he might have had time to better prepare himself to conceal his attraction by eating some of the plant leaves known to repress such physical responses among his kind. As it was, he had quite suddenly and literally found himself under the mistress' boot. To make matters worse, whenever she noticed that his arousal was fading, she would lift one of her feet from his back and use the cold leather tip of the boot to rub his genitals slightly until it became fully erect again. Then, seeing that he was still being disobedient by remaining aroused she would quickly push one of her heels into his side and strike him once or twice with the short whip she kept handy to punish her servants with while belittling him for being so blatant in his disrespect for her. He was sure that she would tire of his continued disobedience and have his head removed at any moment.
