Caught In Darkness Ch 08

The Majestic stared at the corner of her room. Her bath steamed around her and smelled of burnstone powder -- a musty sweet smell. One arm was draped over the edge of her tub where The Obedient was busy cleaning and polishing her mistress's fingernails. The servant girl's deep crimson hair was now accented with the beginnings of a blond streak where her wound had been. Her mistress had used her magic to heal her, and then commanded her servant to clean her while she sat brooding. Her legs shifted under the water as she repositioned herself, it made her motherly breasts bob in the water. The sudden motion startled The Obedient, but her perfect hands never erred in their work. One of her mistress's legs lifted from the scented water and she flexed her foot in the open air. The Majestic moved the foot around in a circle, and curled the toes. There it stayed, floating in the air. It was a cue to The Obedient, who set down her file and polish, and started to rub the Majestic's arch and heel. The attention made her Mistress sigh with relief, and once satisfied the foot sank back into the water bit by bit. The Majestic was slowly returning to her as her mind digested the last day's events.

"Tend to my back, something has hardened the muscles." She said as she sat up and leaned forward, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. The Obedient stood and disrobed, letting her dress fall to the floor. Her thin, athletic form was bare to the air. She gently entered the water behind The Majestic, trying not to disturb her Mistress. Once positioned, her hands went to work, starting at the neck muscles and slowly, deeply kneading the skin. Sitting together, both red-haired Zecarin women could be mistake for sisters. Their closeness, and ease with the other in such a personal environment spoke of the intimate bond they shared. The Majestic sighed pleasurably, and The Obedient moved closer as her hands worked the shoulder's and arms of her lady.

"Your body feels to have been in a fight. There are bruises and knots all over." The Obedient commented as she followed the trail of tense flesh over the shoulder blades and down both sides of the spine. Her fingers ran idly over the scarred patches that pock marked her lady's back as she took in each one in scrutiny. The Majestic's eyes opened from her dozing as she felt each bump, and her nails instinctively dug into the skin of her legs. It was as if she could see her scars through her attendant's fingers and it angered her. The Obedient could feel her mistress's obvious tension. Her fingers ran up to her short red wet locks and pulled them back out of her lady's face. Each hand then went to an ear, and started to softly stroke her lady back into a state of sedation.

"That old trick has seen too many uses." The Majestic murmured. The Obedient leaned forward and placed her lips on the back of her lady's neck. She kissed the skin softly and let the tip of her tongue glide off the wet skin. She repeated this, kissing softly down one side and then down the other. The Majestic visibly relaxed and leaned into the petite girl's body. Her servant's small pert breasts pressed up against her lady's back as she in turn leaned forward with her caressing hands. The Majestic relinquished her knees and sat upright, fully entwining herself into her servant. She eagerly pressed her hungry skin into those lips. The Obedient's hands roamed down her lady's sides to under the buoyant flesh of The Majestic's bosom. Her dexterous fingers cupped each of those motherly mounds and massaged them firmly yet slowly. The Majestic let a soft sigh that could almost be mistaken for a moan escape her lips. Those fingers gently encircled each protruding nipple and started to rub them lightly. The soft, sensual touches of her servant eased The Majestic's troubled mind and let her lose herself into her servant's embrace. The Obedient let go of one of her lady's breasts and let her hand venture down her lady's body into the temple where only a few are allowed. Her fingertips stroked the opening to her mistress's pussy; they rubbed the lips and pinched them together lightly. This sent shockwaves into her lady and caused her to gasp sharply before letting out a drawn out moan.

The door to her bedroom opened and both women froze. The room was dark except for an area near the bed where a few candles stood glowing. The intruder was barely outlined, but the two ladies were shrouded in darkness. The Obedient withdrew instinctively to make room for her mistress to leave the tub. She knew what was about to happen. The Majestic rose to her feet as the figure slowly entered and closed the door behind them. This slave wore the all concealing robe of one of her Unnamed servants and didn't seem to notice the two women in the corner of the room.

The Majestic stepped quietly out of the tub. Water dribbled down her mature form onto the stone floor in soft patters. She crept silently up on the intruder as she made her way to a lounging chair between them. Draped over its back was her razor chain; she took it quietly in her fingers. The Unnamed one was only a few feet away and oblivious to her presence. As she lifted it, the chain made a slight rustle, and it was enough to draw the Unnamed one's attention. The moment the slave turned around she let that chain fly through the air. Surprise was her ally, and it caught the intruder around the neck. But before she could end them, the intruder caught the length of it and yanked hard. Surprise was now her enemy as this caught her off guard. The Majestic lost her footing and tumbled forward. The moment she hit the ground she ducked into a roll and came to her feet beside her opponent. They were still struggling to free the chain from around their neck. She reached out to grab the other end that dangled off their shoulder. She wasn't quick enough; this slave caught that reaching hand and threw her down to the ground. A foot caught her in the chin and sent her reeling backwards, sprawled out onto the floor with a hiss.

Something heavy landed on her, she couldn't get her bearings from the stars that danced before her eyes. When they did clear, she found the slave sitting on her chest, pinning her to the ground and still trying to dislodge the blades caught in the fabric. The insult was too much. Fury burned in her eyes and her teeth ground in anger. She snatched the chain at both ends just as her attacker grabbed a length of the deadly jewelry and stretched it across her own throat. Surprise fought against her fury once again; this was the first time she had let herself be taken. Silently she cursed the stalemate they were now in -- she wasn't yet at her full strength. Her salvation came from the serving girl that was silently creeping towards them with that shaving razor out in her hand.

"Drop it!" A male's voice hissed through the fabric mask. The Obedient recognized it instantly and hesitated. But The Majestic was lost to her rage and indignation and pulled on the loose end of chain in the moment of distraction. With his hands preoccupied with the section pressed to her throat, Mule had only one opportunity left. He slammed his forehead into his Mistress's. The crack of two skull's colliding made The Obedient cringe and drop to her knees in sympathy.

The effect was immediate; The Majestic went limp and groaned. Mule carefully removed the chain from his neck and tossed it away. He tore the hood from his head and watched the dazed Majestic's head loll side to side as she groaned. He moved off her and looked up to The Obedient who still held the slim knife in her hand. She met his gaze and quickly lowered it, she knew his prowess, and she was not skilled enough to kill this human. And for the first time, she questioned if anyone could.

"You don't have to witness this." He commented as he started to disrobe. She watched as he picked up her mistress and carried the flailing, half-conscious Majestic over to her lavish post bed. She waited; her own feelings about this situation were conflicted. Since their lovemaking, she didn't feel angry about much anymore, she was more content with her lot in life, and for the first time she was starting to see the dangers of having a ruthless mistress. But for all her confliction, she did know she needed to witness this. She needed to watch him closely in order to protect her mistress should he misstep, or to take advantage of the distraction and finally end this human-demon that had killed so many. But there was also a faint whisper in the back of her head that told her The Majestic would feel as good as she did. And she wanted that for her mistress.

So she watched.

****

The collar itched her neck terribly. But then slave collars weren't meant to be comfortable. The Deliquescent fingered it absentmindedly. It was a gift of her new master, and it would be hers until she died. Her old life was taken, and this one was given. She now served and she had a task to accomplish. But as she looked up at the pale devil, this Eltharian elf, she wondered if this task was worth her life.

She was a skilled magic user, and she could force the answers out of this elf, but it would be a distasteful joining of the minds. As she stood looking at this girl, her stomach was churning from the disgusting thought she was about to endure. With the Eltharian chained to the wall she wasn't a threat, her naked body had been beaten and bruised, and her head of short blond fuzz hung unconsciously from her shoulders. Still, the longer she looked at this pathetic creature she realized her revulsion was more of what had been done to her and not what she was. The collar itched her neck again.

She left the doorway where she had been standing for the last few minutes and entered the cell. She smoothed her new plain servants dress, and steeled her resolve for what was needed. Her hands touched the cheeks and lifted the head up. This girl had once had long gorgeous hair, just as she did. But they had cut it all off, and unevenly. Silently she thanked the Unkillable for only humiliating her, and not marring her appearance. Her own hair still hung straight down her back, half way down it changed from dark black to silvery white. Their faces came together. She winched when she saw the purple, puffy flesh around the girl's left eye. It was swollen shut.

The Deliquescent closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Her forehead touched that of the unconscious girl. Through that contact she could feel the elf's spirit; it was weak and fragile, she had been tortured too much and the slightest misstep would snuff out that life force. The Deliquescent sighed in disappointment at her kin's handiwork, it made her task much more difficult, and there was a good possibility that when she was done that spark of life would be too week to continue. The Deliquescent found herself doubting her next action. She could kill this woman, end her torment, and claim she was too weak to interrogate. That would aggravate her master, and that thought pleased her. It would be the fool's own fault for letting his men beat this girl. She found herself with an uncomfortable question of conscience.

Yet, she wasn't a killer.

That was the power of the bond she and her sister shared; it freed both of them from the bloodthirsty urges and left them free to pursue a more civilized means to an end. She could be delicate, get what she needed, and let the girl live only to be killed by one of the Unkillable's men, or worse by that monster himself. Death at her hands would be a sweet mercy compared to the fate that awaited her with him. But she wasn't a killer. The dark skinned lady touched her lips to the split, cracked lips of this girl and breathed into her mouth. Her essence floated on her breath and entered the unconscious prisoner - the spell had begun.

Memories floated about in currents of this girl's life force. The sorceress picked a recent one and looked in on it -- she saw the human's face, and the look in his eyes as he made love to her. There was an emotion in his eyes she wasn't familiar with, but this elf girl understood it -- it was called pity, and seeing that on his face shamed her. The human was gone according to The Unkillable, and according to The Majestic he was just a house servant, so this man wasn't important. She let that one go back to the spirit stream and waited as another one passed by. It was a violent memory of the beatings she received --through this Eltharian's eyes she saw the Unkillable as he dragged her down the hall by the neck. She was crying. Her heart had been broken. The Unkillable had killed the human, crushed his neck with his foot until he stopped breathing. There was too much raw pain in that memory. The Deliquescent needed to be careful, each memory she shared also made her share in the emotions. Powerful ones could overpower her spell and break the connection. She pulled herself out of that one and moved on; the next one was inside a holding room. There were sounds and rancid smells of a dozen different species in there; it overloaded her senses with so many scents. The Deliquescent scowled. Everywhere she turned in this elf's mind there were horrors. She couldn't go any deeper until she let the spiritstream get used to her presence.

"Who?" The subconscious had become aware of her.

"I am Mila." She said, using her child-name. "I will not harm you". She spoke lovingly as if it was her sister she was now sharing with. The assurance was well received, and the spirit seemed to feel as if it knew her. She felt it growing less resistant to her presence, so she delved a bit further. There she saw glimpses of the journey into Zecair territory. But then the elf's spirit started to resisted, I didn't want her going deeper, and it started to squeeze her out. She had two choices, retreat and be expelled, or run deeper in.

She dug deep. Way deep into the past of this soul. She saw the world go by, the flowers and the sky and the buildings of her home -- all those memories flew by as glimpses. It was an oddly exotic place to The Deliquescent, but it was home to the Eltharian girl. There she lingered and shared in the warmth of that memory with the subconscious presence chasing her. She watched the faces of the young Eltharian elves as they came and talked with her. There was a beautiful young male by Eltharian standards, and the girl felt a rush when she looked at him. It was an odd sensation for the sorceress -- she wasn't attracted to the opposite sex, but through this girl she was feeling what that felt like. Even her revulsion to the pale elves was over shadowed by the love for this man. She lingered and watched the memory play out as the young lovers ran away to a secluded hilltop. They wanted to be alone and to enjoy each other's intimate companionship. She couldn't stop watching, it was an erotic curiosity to her to see how the Eltharian's mated. It was a slow and sensual thing, not as passionate or violent as some Zecair pairings. But because she was sharing these memories, she started to feel as if she was the one reliving that moment. That made the Deliquescent very uncomfortable.

She left it and moved back to the memory she was driven away from. This time she saw this elf girl meet with a female Zecarin scout dressed in shadow leathers; she recognized her as The Mischievous. It wasn't a chance encounter, they had intended to meet, as both sides were accompanied by two guards each. They spoke sternly to one another -- she couldn't hear the actual words, only feel the emotions of the moment, and they were very nervous. Something The Mischievous said made the girl relax and feel elated, but it agitated The Mischievous's bodyguards who kept looking around nervously.

A secret rendezvous? Was this a defection? Or maybe the swapping of intelligence? Whichever it was, it was what The Unkillable wanted to know, and that was now her mission to retrieve this from the spirit. She watched more.

Suddenly the congregation panicked and scattered. One of the Zecarin soldiers grabbed her by the arm, as dozens of soldiers appeared. Fighting broke out and all of the bodyguards were quickly killed. Both girls were captured and bound. She had found the secret she needed, but the girl's spirit was still not fully open to her. It would take some more coaxing but soon she could relive the moments herself instead of just looking in from outside. At that time she could then hear the words being spoken.

As the girl was being escorted away, a face appeared that was related to this memory. It was an Eltharian woman, older, and she had her back turned away. The sorceress opened up this memory to investigate; she could see more detail in this woman's face. This woman looked oddly similar to this elf girl, they were probably related. Suddenly felt the spirit shore up its resistances to her.

OUT. Her subconscious screamed at the intruder, and The Deliquescent quickly regretted this action. All her efforts to breath life back into this soul in order to ease the probe were too successful, she had regained too much of her strength. Who ever this older lady was, she was important, and that made it necessary for the sorceress to push harder. She fought on, and the girl fought back. She could almost make out the woman's clothing, and a piece of parchment she carried with some sort of instructions. But before she could read it, something opened up inside that memory and a surge of energy erupted. The girl was regaining consciousness!

MILA! I AM RIYARRA. GET OUT OF MY MIND OR I WILL KILL YOU! The Deliquescent didn't have enough time. A tidal wave of conscious energy swept over her so suddenly she was caught up in it. It broke the connection violently, and The Deliquescent was forced out.

The Zecarin sorceress was knocked backward by the backlash of energies. She flew across the room and skidded along the floor on her backside. Her head hit the stone hard, and she was out cold. Riyarra looked on, still shackled to the wall.

"And stay out you BITCH!" Riyarra spat a bloody wad of saliva from her broken mouth.

****

There was a subtle change in the human's movement. His body was more relaxed and his movements softer and more casual. It was an odd change for someone that seemed always poised to strike. Mule took one of his mistress's legs and lifted it up into the air. He kissed softly down her shin to her foot. As her senses returned, one hand grabbed his head and took a firm, violent hold of his brown curls. But when he reached her foot and those lips took to her toes like succulent fruit, she moaned -- loudly - and her grip relaxed. His tongue swirled over each digit, and pulled each one into his mouth as his teeth bit and scrapped sensually over the ticklish skin. This drove The Majestic crazy. Her back arched, her arms thrashed reflexively, but her hand still held firmly to his head. Yet it didn't pull him away. His tongue left for the arch of her foot, gently sliding down its curve to her heel. That long sensual trip elicited a long sensual moan from his mistress. Those lips found her ankle and suckled it, his teeth pulling at her Achilles tendon lightly. With fluid movements he laid on his side, and put his lips to the back of her knee, kissing the soft skin tenderly. The Majestic purred.

It was a sound her servant hadn't heard before. The Obedient tilted her head to one side as she watched with an odd fascination. This human, who had mastered the art of killing, could also be a master of sex? The conclusion then came to her -- he knew anatomy. He had studied it thoroughly; he knew where to push and where to pull to get exactly what he wanted. This revelation sent shivers down the girl's spine. Her hand drifted to her sex and her fingers started to remind her of his touch.

She felt cheated. She had taken control of their passionate encounter and served her own needs first when this male could have done so much more for her if she had let him lead. Oh how she envied her mistress now; her regret at her mistake made her ache with another yeaning. As her fingers delved into her now wet pussy, and her breath escaped her for that brief, intense moment, she decided she was going to enjoy their lovemaking as best she could.