Authors Note: A shorter chapter, and one of background and some story. For the sex-crazed of you, the next chapter will be one of far more focus on this ;).
-- Jasmine & Daniel
Viara stretched as she left the reverie, her muscles sore. The combined exercise of her visit to her friends as well as her slave had left her with a pleasant ache in more than one area of her body. Her sex gave a pleasant tingle when she shifted, and she touched herself briefly before getting up.
The slave had been more than adequate last night. She could not remember the last time her peak had come with such intensity - physical or emotional.
Then again, it has been some time since i allowed a male to really touch me.
There was certainly a different sensation than what she did with her acquaintances.
Her naked feet tapped on the floor as she moved about her chambers, cinching the morning robe around her waist.
The slave does need some more discipline though. Honest - for certain.
No slave had ever shouted at her. Not as such.
Pox-marked drow cunt?
The insult enraged her. It made her watch him with suspicion.
Such a male would throw his life away, if he thought he could take his mistress along with him.
Thinking about his expression made her shiver, though not in fear.
A male, daring such a tone. None would ever...dare.
Every guard or male of her house she'd ever laid eyes upon had always treated her with the grovelling and subservience suitable for his station and sex. Not him. It made her believe the stories of the surface, where males where often said to be if not dominant, strong and as powerful as women.
Ridiculous, but...
She walked into his chambers. The doors were never locked. He slept without a blanket, the heat apparently too much for him. He shifted when she entered - though apparently did not wake, for he only mumbled and turned. She sneered.
Dreaming.
So...odd.
They were unconscious, unable to defend themselves, yet saw...other things. She'd heard of elves who dreamt - but she could never credit it. Her reverie was a pleasant time of relaxation - her only peace.
How can one have peace, any peace, if they must see other things even when they rest?
So defenseless. I could slit your throat in your sleep. Maim you. Castrate you. Harm you, and you could do little to stop me, no? Fool human.
A fool, but a strong fool.
Viara watched his muscles - hard, corded fibers everywhere. From his back to his arms, from his legs to his shoulders. His physique spoke of battle - and the way he'd handled her yestereve much of the same. His hand upon her neck and shoulders had left a bruise that was still aching.
In other races, such as ogres, the differences were grotesque and made her shudder - a different sort of animal altogether. In these humans, they were...
different, yet not as much.
He gave a soft growl and turned again.
She smiled with amusement this time, and turned around to leave.
Slaves need their rest.
"Leilena...Veluthe Thiramen."
She froze. One hand where her dagger would be, she turned.
That...rivvil liar!
For a moment, she considered waking him with a knee to his neck - or between his legs. But no. She did not like to be accused of breaking her word without cause or gain - at least not by a slave. His comment yesterday had given her pause, and she was determined to make a suitable, obedient slave out of him.
That slave-mistress at the market. She said slaves without 'spirit' serve little use - and you could carefully squeeze the slave without destroying their spirit.
That mistress's slaves had regarded her not with abject terror and sunken heads, but with abject loyalty and near-mindless worship. One glance had been enough to show Viara that the woman's charges would leap into the path of a bolt for her.
Not because she told them to - but because they saw the bolt coming, and worshipped her - as we worship Lolth.
The thought of her being worshipped as such by anyone - even a slave, and not only out of fear, was thrilling.
And with this one, there is no harm done if I need to kill him. Only a slave.
But, the first step was trying to give him structure and order. Expectations and rewards.
So, Viara left - and occupied herself with a morning meal and morning studies as well as sharpening her daggers until the slave woke. She even allowed him to clean himself and dress before calling him over to sit in front of her chair.
"Mistress? What can I do to serve you?"
"Truth, slave." She replied. "Tell me of your...history."
"My history?"
"I do not like repeating myself". She tapped her fingernails on the armrest.
"I..." he frowned. "I was birthed in the northern parts of-"
"No. Not
that.
" She waved him to silence. "I want to know of your...companions. Whom you came with to the lands below. Who were they?"
"I..." He licked his lips. "Mistress. Must I? I would...ask..."
"Yes. I am your mistress - and I want truth. As you say, I may be generous - but I require absolute obedience and truth from you in return." She leaned forward, fixing his eyes with hers "If you lie to me, I will know."
He looked at the floor.
"I will reward you for faithful service. Obedience. Subservience. If you want no females for your pleasure, I can find other rewards. There is no end to the pleasantries available to you if you are faithful. But your mind is to be an open book to me, slave.
I demand it.
"
"I will...try, Mistress Viara."
She started. It was the first time he'd used her first name. She knew some who'd whip him for this, but she found the adoration was...pleasant. Powerful. She cleared her throat. "Your companion, slave. Your
female
companion."
"Yes?" His eyes grew pained.
"Who was she?"
"A...woman. Fiery. Beautiful. Too good for me, I always believed - yet she loved me anyway. We traveled together for near-on eleven years. We were...together for Seven." He met her eyes. "I believe you have no word for...marriage, mistress."
"Nest'rand"
She corrected him, sneering at the weak idea. "It also implies 'doom'."
"Doom. Of course, it does." He shook his head and chuckled weakly. "Well. We were married. She..." Haern glanced down at his hand.
"How old was she, slave?"
"...She was considered mature for her youthful years, mistress."
"And of what...kind was she?" Ha. She felt a thrill along her nerves at his attempt at obfuscation.
