Pleasure Draught

There are several unspoken but well-known certainties that keep the Eder court running smoothly: The Queen rules supreme and is not to be questioned. The nobles keep themselves occupied with a vast, complex and political system of gambling. And it's always a fool's wager to bet against Count Tytos Carac.

* * *

The cool liquor slid down my throat with a subtle tingle and the scent of plums as I watched out the window and a carriage approached up the long, wide drive to my manor house. I smacked my lips and let the buzz of the finest Vrisham brandy linger on my tongue. Then, tugging my short, sandy blonde beard with my fingers, I grinned.

Radar,

I thought.

Tut tut. I hope you learned your lesson.

It was a simple wager. Those were the best ones because they were the hardest to cheat. And the most fun to win. Which of two individually-selected merchant vessels leaving on the same day from the port at Mycria would be the first to complete the journey to and from the island nation of Hireath? Of course, the wagers that are hardest to cheat are also the ones for which it is most entertaining to do so.

I was almost struck dumb to learn from Reeves that Radar had done nothing more than try to bribe my captain to delay several weeks upon reaching the island city-state. I would have almost felt

obliged

to let him win had I overlooked such a simplistic maneuver. I, of course, had ensured that my own captain had received an anonymous tip that anyone offering bribes would be a disguised member of the Guild of Golden Halls — and that anyone who accepted would be henceforth blacklisted by the powerful association of bankers.

Still, Radar's goodnatured tampering was smalltime, and I would have felt almost guilty for having his ship assaulted by pirates had the stakes not been so high. In a few moments, it would seem, we would see if my machinations had been worth the effort.

There was a knock on the carved oaken door to my study and then Reeves entered, my valet and confidant looking composed as usual. "Yunglorde Elwin Radar, my lord," he said. I could tell from the twinkle in his eye that he was trying to keep a smile from twitching across his lips.

Ah, dear Radar must be quite worked up about our little bet.

"He has brought your... prize, with him," Reeves added.

I gave him a significant look, trying to gauge his own opinion of my winnings, but he has been well trained. His lips do nothing other than twitch upwards in the barest hint of a smile as he consciously resists my efforts to read him. I sighed.

In a moment, all will be revealed.

"That will be all, Reeves, thank you."

I was leaning on my elbows with a practiced air of bored disdain when the Yunglorde walked in with my prize in tow. I was struck dumb.

"Tytos!" Radar's thin frame was straight as a ruler as he walked in through my doorway. I stood mechanically and took his offered hand, but my eyes did not meet his. I was staring over his shoulder as I was transfixed by the vision who had entered with him. My prize.

"Erm... Yes..." The Yunglorde shifted uncomfortably and stepped aside, gesturing by way of introduction. "Tytos, meet Syndala Sarfir. Syndala, darling, this is Count Carac."

Despite the trivial nature of our bet, Radar and I had pulled out all stops. There had been an unspoken tension between us for some time, though I was obviously his superior in both court politics and at the gambler's table. Our solution had been to let it all out by going for each others' throats with the stakes of our little game. I had offered to open the doors to my famed cellar of Vrisham brandy. The Yunglorde and a dozen of his closest friends would be allowed a night of debauchery as they would no doubt drink their way through a healthy percentage of my reserves. On his side of things, Radar had foolishly tried to outdo me by offering me something of arguably greater value... Her. Syndala Sarfir, Yunglorde Elwin Radar's famed concubine and paramour.

I would be allowed a night of my own with the beautiful woman — but now that I had seen her I was already scheming to take her for myself. For good.

Half elven and half dusky southerner, Syndala had the pointed ears and grace of her elven heritage but the sturdiness of her human parent. Her smooth skin was a warm cocoa, glowing with the shine of health and good care. She wore a red silk dress that appeared to have been painted onto her curvy body, even outlining her nipples on her large, buoyant breasts, and her luxuriant black hair was woven down her back in a thick braid that brushed the top of her round ass.

Good,

I thought, already growing hard as I imagined my hands wrapping around her waist and my cock sliding inside of her ravishing body.

Nice and solid and fuckable.

I had never understood my son's fascination with that etherial elf woman he pursued — I found their bodies too slight and delicate. I imagined an elf might shatter like crystal if I gave it to them hard like I liked.

In addition to the dress, the courtesan wore a sour expression, as though the very idea of her body being used as a bargaining chip in our wager was a sacrilege not to be tolerated. To my mind the pout only accentuated her full, ruby lips, which I could already imagine wrapping around my length as she knelt at my feet and blew me like she wanted to suck my brain out through my cock.

I was sufficiently recovered in just a moment, but the wheels of my mind were already turning like the cogs of a gearwork Mycrian clock.

How? How? How?

I asked myself as I tore my gaze from the luscious concubine and over to her patron.

How can I make you mine?

"You've brought my prize, I see," I told Radar, and I watched as his eyes flicked nervously for a moment to Syndala's hardly-concealed wrath, then back to me. She didn't even acknowledge his searching eyes as her dark gaze fixed itself somewhere in the corner of the room.

Interesting,

I mused.

Now I know who has the balls in this relationship.

"Indeed," the young aristocrat replied, his voice just the tiniest bit scratchy — as though his throat was dry. I tried not to grin. This was going to be too easy. Radar wanted to win, but he also wanted to retain the favor of his beautiful lover. It was obvious that even though the Yunglorde was paying Syndala Sarfir for her company, a goodly chunk of her goodwill would need to be won over before she would deign to treat him with anything but disdain.

Someone needs to teach you a lesson,

I mused, hooded eyes gliding over her body.

I'm glad it's going to be me.

"I heard that there was some difficulty for your ship on the high seas," I filled my voice with a concern so genuine you could use it to melt the heart of a stone golem. "I hope that your seamen and their cargo was all safely delivered?"

Radar nodded, barely holding in a scowl, but I was surprised to see that he didn't even shoot me a dagger-filled glance.

Is it possible that he doesn't even realize I was involved?

I wondered, dumbstruck.

Impossible...

The Yunglorde just ground his teeth and then straightened, squaring his shoulders and fixing me with the look that had originally gotten him on the wrong side of my dislike. It was a glance that conveyed his personal sense of entitlement, the idea that even though I may have won I would never be his equal. "Your night with the lovely Syndala will commence as soon as I have departed, Count," he told me pompously.

Amazing how his confidence is restored as soon as he mentions my title.

True, a Yunglorde like Elwin Radar held a higher rank than a mere Count like Tytos Carac. And doubtless his family's well-known wealth surpassed my own humble fortune. But in the true currency of court — favors, allies and reputation — I far outmatched him. Radar was, unfortunately, simply too conceited to see the light.

"Indeed it will," I told him, my eyes wandering over the body of the scandalously good-looking half-elf once again. I imagined wrapping my hand around her braid and pulling her head back as I fucked her tight quim from behind, the blood rushing even further below my belt.

The Yunglorde coughed, poorly hiding a scowl of disgust, and then raised his chin. "If there's nothing else...?" he asked, already half-turning to leave.

I let him think for just a moment that he could scuttle away to safety. Then, I raised my eyes from the face of his concubine and cleared my throat. "Double or nothing," I said. The words hung in the air: a challenge, an escape and a chance to be victor, all bundled into one phrase.

Radar froze. I saw his thin shoulders draw taut. "What?" he asked.

"You heard me," I replied, not allowing the smirk to show across my features.

I have you now,

I thought. Elwin Radar, like all good men of the Eder court, was an inveterate gambler. Not nearly as degenerate as myself, but nonetheless easy prey for my subtle wiles. "Double. Or. Nothing."

Radar was so still I was worried that I had overdone my play, then a slow sigh escaped through his tight lips. He turned back to face me, a spark in his eye. "What terms?"

My favorite words.

I couldn't help but let a small smile paint itself across my mouth. I nodded at Syndala. She still stood not three feet from me, her voluptuous body just begging me to bend her over my writing desk and fuck her senseless, but I held myself in check.

Soon.

"I get my one night with your lovely lady. If, by the end of it, she isn't begging to say with me, she returns home to your estate

and

you don't simply win a night in my brandy cellars...

All

the contents of my reserve will by shipped to your estate forthwith."

I could almost see the gears turning behind Radar's calculating eyes, just like I could sense the furious look boring a hole in my face from where Syndala Sarfir was watching us tensely.

She doesn't think she's one to beg, eh?

My mind was sharp, as it always was when I gambled, and ready for the challenge.

Good thing I have a little something up my sleeve.

"And if you win?" the Yunglorde asked me, his lip nearly curling into a sneer — as though he was asking when the dragons would return to Aros.

"The beautiful Mistress Sarfir will subsequently belong to my household, to do with as I see fit." I curbed my imagination for the moment; an imagination that could only too vividly visualize waking up each morning beside the buxom goddess.

Radar knew that his lover would never, ever ask to stay with me of her own free will. What he didn't know was that I had ways of making her free will disappear like ice melting under the summer sun. He spat in his hand and offered it to me, a gesture that was one of the few reminders that before it had been the sport of the wealthiest in the land, wagering had been a pastime of the poorest.

I spat and clasped his hand in my own as I stared into his beady eyes.

"Just don't be sore when you lose," Radar told me confidently, a jaunty smile materializing on his face for the first time since he'd set foot in my study.

"Don't worry about that," I responded with a grin. But in my mind, my words were different.

You've already lost.

* * *

I watched Yunglorde Elwin Radar's carriage trundle down the long drive.

And now, the true games begin,

I thought. I waited silently.

Whoever speaks first loses.

I made little bets like this with myself every day — a diverting way for me to use my addiction for my betterment instead of just my ruin.

"Elwin might not realize what happened," the half-elf's voice was sharp and brittle as glass behind me. "But I'm not the fool he is. I know you sabotaged the wager just to get a night with me."

I turned, keeping my expression calm and composed.

Just play the game a little longer.

"I had originally planned on just one night," I admitted with a shrug, trying to ignore my growing erection. "But seeing your beauty has made me realize that one night with you would never be enough to satisfy any man." I laid the flattery on thick, just to see if it stuck. For some, it was as easy as that — playing to their ego.

Syndala Sarfir was not so easy. She huffed and scowled at me, crossing her arms underneath her massive globes.

"But now it seems," I continued, "my objective is not just to fuck you senseless but to convince you that I would be a far preferable master to the Yunglorde Radar." I could tell that she was a little rattled at the way the words "fuck you senseless" had danced so lightly across my tongue, but she was not to be put off balance so easily.

Do you like that?

I wondered, searching her dark eyes for a moment before she looked away.

Do you secretly want a man who doesn't treat you like a delicate flower? Who takes you any way he wants? Like you were so obviously made to be taken?

I gestured her to follow me and we walked to the low table where I usually took my morning coffee. I sank into my leather armchair and she sat on the couch across, her eyes meeting mine once again before I perused her more carefully. My own attire was casual, dark trousers and a simple but fashionable jacket with plenty of golden buttons to draw the eye. Her dress, meanwhile, had the cut and elegance of something one would wear to a grand ball. It had a deep collar to show off an impressive valley of cleavage, but sleeves to cover her bare arms.

"Turn around for me," I said, twirling a finger as I leaned back lazily in my chair.

Let's see what we have to work with.

Syndala's eyes met mine, fiery orbs in her alluring face. They were deep and smoky, a warm brown shot through with lighter tones. Her lips pulled back as though she would hiss at me like an angry tabby cat, but instead her throaty, intoxicating voice spoke harshly. "I'm not sure what you think,

Count

Carac," she pronounced my title with almost as much disdain as Radar. "But I am not some harlot to be ordered about. My companionship has been requested by some of the most refined lords and gentlemen in Eder, and —"

"Your master has taught you well the art of courtly conceit," I interrupted mildly, raising a blonde eyebrow.

Though I doubt modesty has ever been among your virtuous qualities.

"But you'll find that I am quite willing to be a pincushion, and quite

unwilling

to be goaded."

The half-elf courtesan looked ready to spit with disgust. "You are no lord, no gentleman and certainly not worthy to order

me

about."

"I may be a gambler and a scoundrel," my calm features came together in a brooding frown as my words were laid thick with a disdain of my own. I tired of her attitude. "But my word is my bond. And for the night, my dear Syndala, your master has handed over your reigns to me — which means my word is

your

bond."

Time to let this whore know who she's dealing with.

I am no Elwin Radar.

"Your current master may treat you like a rose, and fear you for your thorns, but I am an entirely different animal. I will take you, thorns and all, and devour you without a qualm. So stand up. And turn around for me."

There was a silent and invisible battle of wills as her eyes stared into mine. I did not budge. Decades of high-stakes negotiations at the wagering tables of court had made me unflappable. I think the shock of being spoken to in that way was what made her stand, several seconds later, and slowly revolve in a place before my hungry eyes.

I loved the way her body was svelte but not twiggy, strong but not hefty. The red dress clung to her, hugging the curves of her breasts and hips. It slashed diagonally across her legs, one side ending at her knee and the other side at her ankle. Her legs were long and athletic, the legs of a rider or athlete.

I admire a woman who keeps active.

Syndala Sarfir completed her revolution and sank back down onto the couch, giving me a venomous glare.

A lazy smile spread across my mouth, and I knew it would infuriate her further. I raised my voice slightly, eyes never leaving hers as I called, "Reeves!" I knew my manservant would be waiting outside for just such an invitation, and he did not disappoint. He never did. My valet entered and stood calmly waiting for my instructions. "Drinks, if you please?" I asked him calmly.

He bowed slightly, to all appearances the perfect obsequious servant. No one would guess that he was my right hand, my second brain and as precious a friend as I'd ever had.

And more than a friend, once upon a time.

I smiled at the memory. "Anything in particular you wanted, my lord?" he asked. His voice remained entirely calm and his features were completely controlled, but I knew what he was really asking.

I scratched my beard, as though considering. "Yes. Grab the bottle we have from our fine friend Belvedere, if we still have that in our stores." I knew we did. I had yet to open that...

particular

vintage.

Reeves nodded and left with his usual efficient bustle. While we waited I didn't attempt to make conversation with my lovely guest. The time for talking was past. Now it was time for action.

She expects me to ply her with liquor then slowly seduce her. That is how all her men have played before.

I almost smirked as I lounged easily. I was not most men.

My valet returned with two crystal glasses and a decanter of amber-colored liquid balanced on a silver tray. He put the tray down on the low, wooden table between us and poured, his sleight-of-hand so skillful that I only saw him pour three drops from a tiny vial into Syndala's tumbler because I was looking for it. My valet made the briefest of eye contact with me to wink mischievously before bowing and silently leaving the room.

The half-elf eyed the two cut-crystal vessels suspiciously, but relaxed slightly as I reached out and raised mine to her in a jaunty toast. "To your health and beauty, lady Sarfir," I said, "and to a night that will have you begging for more."

She didn't respond as we touched glasses and drank, the light chime of crystal the only sound in my large drawing room.

I settled back, then, and waited for the potion Reeves had slipped her to take effect. Some, in fact, might call it a love potion, but I knew what it really was. It was a Pleasure Draught. Just a few drops would ignite the pleasure centers of the mind, which made it the drug of choice in the most elite circles of Eder lords and courtiers. It was one of the few vices I'd never tried, and never would. I knew all too well the devastating effects it could have, and I liked to keep all my wits about me. I had my particular strain of the drug individually enchanted by one of the most gifted channelers of Etherium I knew, and had bought and paid for it not in gold but in secrets. I had it on hand for another purpose than pleasure.

There was almost a minute of silence, Syndala staring silently at her glass and me staring silently at the brown-skinned half-elf. Then, I saw her eyes widen and her thighs clench together as the first wave of pleasure washed over her. Her burning gaze snapped up to meet mine, and her lips parted.

"What drug is this?" Her voice was meant to sound harsh but came out as a panting groan. I saw her nipples stiffening against the red fabric, and felt my cock stiffening in my trousers.

"Have you had a Pleasure Draught before?" I asked mildly, standing.

Her eyes never left mine as she nodded.

Of course. No doubt she's familiar with most imaginable forms of pleasure.

"I know a channeler by the name of Belvedere," I told her, circling around the table and watching her eyes roll back as another wave of ecstasy arced through her body. "He enhanced this particular Draught with a unique twist of my own specification."