Mimic Ch 02

LocNial watched Zerret leave the storage room. Loc cloaked its thoughts from him as he passed. Loc was curious about what he had done to the thief. He could hear the blissful cloud of her thoughts from inside. She was alive. Loc peered down the corridor Zerret had used to see if he was gone. He was. Loc tiptoed to the door. His tentacles twitched nervously. He hated to admit it, but Zerret's powers still made him very leary. It still chilled his semi-aquatic heart to think that Zerret was immune to all of his telepathic attacks. Even the dragon, Trinseccet, bulked at his mental attacks, but not Zerret.

Slipping into the room soundlessly, he crept to the tableside. The mixed blood thief lay quivering, naked, on a pile of her own belongings. The room tasted heavily of female sex secretions. He tucked in his tentacles tightly. He reached a three fingered hand out to check the female's pulse. It was a little high for an unconscious person, but nothing that would endanger her health. He checked her for any other damage. He was annoyed that aside from a few shallow bruises on her limbs, she showed no sign of being subjugated. Even the slightly swelled and red lips of her breeding canal weren't nearly as bad as those the dragon left on its pet-slave girls. He slipped out of the room just as leary as he had entered. Into the corridors shadows he made his way back to his own chambers.

A tall drow woman opened the door into his "Uncle's" den. She smelled like sex. When he thought about it, Uncle's pets always smelled like sex. Well, that or fresh herbal soups. Uncle was a silver dragon that had a sage's fixation with lesbian relationships. He built a fortress over his den to house his harem. He smiled at his good fortune of his parent leaving him in the care of his Uncle. A lesbian silver dragon named Trinseccet that he called "Uncle" and LocNial the Mindflayer - Illithid. He/she/it was telepathic, semi-aquatic, squid faced, purple, and paranoid. One big happy sex fixated family.

Stepping down the last of the steps onto the main floor of the dragon's personal chamber, he could feel the warm cuddly thoughts of three nude females laying in one another's arms. His eyes passed over them slowly as he moved to talk to his Uncle privately.

"Uncle, aren't those the same three you had here the last time?" he asked with a wide toothy grin on his otherwise featureless face.

"Oh you think I need others, do you? You think that my girls can't entertain me?" she asked as her face turned and lowered to meet him eye to eye.

"No, Uncle. I was hoping to snack on something other than the thief you had your guards chase into my room," he said bluntly. He never held back when talking to the dragon. "She is still resting after my interview of her. If she wakes with her mind intact, I want to keep her."

"So you haven't eaten her?" she asked with a tilted glance.

"No. I did taste of her, like you suggested, and if she wakes all giggles and grins with a broken mind I will eat her. From the feel of her strength though, she feels open to learning and adapting. With that said, if I do keep her, I am going to need something else to eat," he reasoned.

"Well, if you get too hungry, and I am not around, I hope you will eat Loc before feasting of my harem."

"Uncle, your sense of humor is improving," Zerret stated humorously.

"Who said I meant it as a joke?" retorted the dragon.

Both held a blank look for half a moment then started laughing loudly with each other. Zerret shifted his features to look vaguely like Loc, morphed his hands from the common five fingered ones to the three fingered hands of an Illithid. He looked over at the girls past Uncle.

"Your choice in fare is delightful, but why do you let them get up and walk away when you are done eating them?" Zerret mocked in what he thought Loc's voice might sound like if it spoke aloud. Trinseccet started laughing so hard she stuck her head into one of the flumes to keep from bathing the rest of the room's guests in unintentional fire spurts. Zerret fell to the floor in spontaneous laughter as well.

"I fail to zee vut zee due of you find funny. Dis one is just az lacking in iz manhood," purred one of the nude drow woman in her native tongue, making a deliberate gesture towards the barren space between his thighs.

"Norrinshrin, you might want to watch what you say about things," the dragon started to caution.

Zerret rolled to a kneeling position in front of Norri and punched a 2' X 3'', thickly veined, penis 10 full inches into her. Her eyes widened in a wave of lust and fear. He just grinned up at her and yanked into back out of her using slightly less speed than what he had used to shove it in. There was a wet pop as it left her.

"Zerret, that was uncalled for," the dragon chastised.

"She was asking for it and you know it," he said as his arm shifted back to its normal five fingered shape.

"I will agree she was rude, though your actions were as well. What has gotten in to you?"

He had used one of Uncle's girls, an assault, in front of her. Anger had taken control of him. But why did he stoop to this tactic instead of voicing a retort? Loc. Loc had him on edge and angry. Norri just made jest of him and he crossed the line. Drow are all about sex. It's hard-wired into every facet of their culture. Even their language is a crash course in oral pleasuring techniques. He turned to apologize to her, but saw that she had slumped to the floor and was masturbating with reckless abandon.

Trinseccet tilted her head and leaned closer to the mewing female. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply the scents of arousal pouring out of the Drow's wriggling body. She rested her head on the ground between the Drow's open legs. Her slick forked tongue slithered out to taste of the woman's dripping juices. Zerret watched as his uncle licked this writhing Drow into a quivering mass of purring contentment. The two other women approached to help the Drow maid off of the floor. Both looked at him with looks of suspicious curiosity.

"You ever do that to one of my pets again and I will punish you." The dragons tone was stern, but the emotions that poured out of her were light and amused.

"I understand, Uncle. I used your playmate without permission. I apologize," he said in a meek voice, holding tight control over his want to giggle.

The dragon lifted herself into a seated position. "Everyone out! I think my nephew needs a reminder of this Fortress' rules," she half roared. "Lock him in with me so he can't get away."

Everyone quickly scurried away. They locked doors as they left. Zerret closed his eyes and turned his head away for his Uncle. The bright light of the dragon's trans-morphing into her Elven guise was still visible in this position. He waited for if to recede.

"So, you want to tell me what has you all bent out of shape?" she asked.

"Loc is getting under my skin." he blurted angrily.

------

Rincitni lounged over the stone table thinking about what had been done to her. Some, dare she admit it, sexy male voice questioned her and showed her scenes of her being sexed by the man of all her girlish fantasies. Then the chair she was in raped her. It felt so good, she hardly thought of it as a violation. She wanted it. It almost felt like the chair fulfilled all of her carnal desires as her body voiced them. The chair did to her in life all the dreamt of fantasies she wished it to do. Her body ached. Even that felt really good. Her labia were sticky and matted with her own hair. Her vaginal muscles still quivered and throbbed contently deep within her.

She propped herself up to visually check her body. Her eyes widened, seeing the bruises on her legs. Their angry coloration was disturbing when compared to the lack of serious pain. Her breasts felt heavy. Her nipples were full and pleasantly swollen. She rolled to one side, trying to get her hair out from under her body. As she did, the matted hair between her legs peeled away from her extremely sensitive parts. Her back arched and she hissed through clenched teeth as a wave of ache-ridden pleasure rolled down every fiber of her being.

She collapsed face first on to the table's surface. Her cheek feeling the cool stone cleared her mind just enough.

She thought to herself, "If they came in to kill me now, I don't think I would protest. Though, if I was giving a last request, put me back in that chair for an hour and kill me during a thrashingly good orgasm!!" As the grin formed across her features, she slid back into unconsciousness once more.

-----

"Yes, he has me so annoyed with things that we seem to not be able to translate to each other," Zerret explained. "He keeps sending what things feel like and trying to use that as a point of reference, and I keep telling him, in most cases, I am bodily numb!!"

"But you have feeling in your skin," she said questioningly. "Don't you?"

"Yes, but that is tactile, and my sensitivity to temperature is very acute. But 'feeling good' when I touch something; it means little to my senses it would seem. It's like tasting food. I can't taste anything. I put it in my mouth and the acids of my saliva dissolve it. There is no taste."

"So you haven't a clue as to what anything 'tastes' like," she stated flatly.

"Right. Loc can't hide his annoyance at me. On top of that, he has been sneaking around behind me, probing the thoughts of everyone in the fortress, looking for opinions of me. He's putting suggestions into some them about how to goad me it doing what he says, even if I don't 'feel it,'" he rambled out.

She turned slightly, brushing the long silver hair back from both of her shoulders. Her elven body was a vision of that race's ideal female form. Uncle took a few steps, letting her hands lewdly caress the shapely curves of her flawless body. He watched. She looked coyly down her nose and did a timid "Don't look at me" pose. She stomped her foot.

"What?" he asked.

"You weren't moved by watching any part of that?" she asked.

"Was I supposed to be?" he dumbly asked.

"Well, YES! All living things are geared to mate. It is instinct. That, for most creatures great and small, is the knowledge that this is a pleasurable act." She stopped for a moment. "You are a Mimic. For your kind, mating is a death match where one lives to have offspring and the other is a first meal of pregnancy. Your body only gives out signs of arousal for a short time after eating."

He stood listening. Uncle was so much better at figuring him out then Loc.

"So you have been voyeuristically devouring the pleasure those morsels broadcast. Kinda what Loc taught you to do to get a handle on the mind of your prey-pet-slave, whatever. He is not getting that you know what these feel like from others, but have none at all of your own to scale other skills from." She spoke to herself more than to him at this point and realized it. "Zerret, I think I can help you with this numb space feeling you have, but as far as Loc sneaking around and keeping tabs on you, I told him to. I will see if the three of us can talk out some rules for this and you will be given more freedom to explore and learn... As well as Skill grafting from prisoners, choosing your own meals. Does this make up for some of the time you have spent feeling penned in?"

"I guess. Uncle, I have never felt penned in. Just loudly, intrusively, spied on," he said.

"You are such an amazing creature and person. Mimzerret should be proud," she beamed.

-----

The smell of spiced meat and cooked eggs pulled her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see and even more scared that what she would see is nothing. A figure cloaked all in black silk moved to the side of the table.

"There is no reason to feign sleep. I know that you are awake and that the smell of this fare beckons your mind back from dreams of pleasure chairs," he said in a thick, masculine, voice.

Her mind raced and she turned herself, trying to get a good look at this man. A gloved hand pointed to the far wall where a washbasin and pitcher stood. She could not see any features in the dark folds of the figure's cowl.

"You will place all of your belongings into the chest next to the basin," he said. "The bag, daggers, and clothing. You will clean yourself and adorn in the items in this bag. You are now my pet and if you wish to remain alive, you will submit to me for a period of no less the three months. If you do not wish this arrangement, you will be taken from this room and handed over to the Draconian Lord of this Fortress, Trinseccet. Do you understand what has been spoken to you?"

"I understand. I am your pet and..." She choked back tears. "How am I to address you?"

"'Keeper.' Though after you have adjusted to your new role, other forms of address may be earned," he said sternly. "Now eat and clean yourself. The duties of your position are to be explained in a timely fashion."

He turned from the table and walked out of the room. The door closed soundly, leaving her to think about what he had said. She was to be a pet? How is that different from a slave? Being turned over to a dragon that she had tried to steal from and burned to death where she stood sprang to mind. She shakily got to her feet and crossed to the basin. The wash clothes were soft and fresh. The water was clear and warm. Lastly, the food on the tray was plentiful and as pleasing to the eye as to the nose.

She looked at the chest next to the basin. It had her name on it. Before a closer inspection of the chest could begin, the door to the room slammed open in a blur of silver. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted dead away.