The Salvation of Laisha

My first story published here, I'm interested in seeing how well it does, but I'm also nervous it might be too licentious so this is just the warning. It's explained later on that she paid for this to happen to her, she just didn't know when or where. I don't know if it's clear but she consents to this, even if those involved are unaware of her complicit nature.

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Laisha Emchaia walked into the humid air the bathhouse, the warmth of the glaring sun already causing her skin to tense. It had been emptied, specifically for her, but it was too big and the empty space seemed to grand. The sun streamed in through the floral pattern windows and trellises that kept the sky above and allowed those within a view of the city. She walked by those windows and looked to the brown and efficient housing beyond. She considered the simplistic nature of the tiled floor, the slight ornamentation on the sills, and then she turned back to her maidservants standing at the door. Without saying a word she kept her head low as she made her way to the pools edge and began to undress.

The two maids came to her and helped her remove her shoes, taking them away from her as soon as she stepped out of them and moved into the water. The water was cool, contrasting with the warmth of the summer sun outside, and it made her toes curl slightly in anticipation. She stretched her arm out and let one of the maids untie her sleeves hold, loosening the billowy fabric off of her body and letting the edges of her silver white dress dip in the water. The maids were respectful, bowing and tending to her jewelry in focused well practiced patterns, kneading her body free of the cloth and birthing her into her natural beauty. She accepted all of it with the grace of a princess and let herself become disrobed by those best suited to the task.

They moved her bracelets off her arm, gold and diamond encrusted ornaments placed onto cushions of patience. She watched them go, the maid behind her unclipping the small claps attaching the veil around her mouth, and gliding the fabric off of her. She stretched her fingers slightly as she looked at the purified form while the maid tended to the other arm and the one behind her lowered the cloak with covered her head and freed her ink black hair from the bejeweled hair clasp. Laisha ran her naked hand through her hair, freeing it more as the maid put the spectacle to the side and her other hand was freed of it's own gold restraints. She went back to looking at her hands once more, the pure olive beauty of her skin more memorable than the fine metals and ornate arrangements of jewelry.

She considered her well manicured nails while considering the removal of her upper cloak. They where shimmering with clean purity, while her hands where a gentle silk. She rubbed her hands together while the final silver strands of her multi-layered dress where finally loosened and her outer cloths where removed. They removed the sleeves, untying the cloth into it's lengthy singular piece of fabric. The two maids began to roll up the fabric as Laisha looked upward at her bare arms. She clenched her fist, feeling the supple strength of her arms, but also understanding the gentleness which she must operate with. The maids finished wrapping up the garment and returned to her, sneaking hands under her underclothes and beginning to unwrap.

It was a freeing feeling and she closed her eyes with peace as she felt the sun upon her bare chest. She could hear the sloshing of the maids feet, the trickling of water across their wading feet, the waves pulsing into her ankles as she felt the freedom that they provided her. She opened her eyes again and smiled a bit, looking to the maid closest to her, but seeing that the maid was more focused on the task at hand she stopped smiling and considered her body. She still wore her bottom layer, the cloth covering her legs and sex, but her chest was now fully exposed. She looked to the door and thought about the guards standing watch outside that bulbous exterior.

She thought about the feeling of freedom, the feeling of being released from all of these binds, and how she would be free for the next half hour or so as masseuses came in and saw her. She thought of the taunting nature of the eunuch, their bare chests and sexless bodies and she thought about her own beauty. She thought about those guards and how loyal they must be to not betray their own king for a sight of her beauty. Perhaps they where eunuch themselves, but who was to say.

She took a few relaxing breaths as she began to get freed from the rest of her clothes. The Fae constructed belt slid off and the maids gently took the cloths off of her hips. She helped them by moving out of it and turning slightly and looking to the maids who held onto it and let her move further into the pool. She watched them as they focused on their task, trying their best to ignore her royalty, and then leave her alone. She looked at the piles of glittering beauties that sat around them on cushions and in boxes which were designed for such things. They where all hers, to a certain degree, but she wanted none of them. She wanted freedom, and she had it, at least in this large prison cell of a room.

She turned away from the maids and they organization and waded deeper into the pool. Eventually the pool took her and she felt that beautiful freedom and weightlessness that water provides. She waved her hands around, lazily paddling, more interested in feeling the curving massaging water passing over her skin and back than actually doing any cleaning of any sort. She knew the whole room was hers, that she could go anywhere here and do anything, but she also knew that she couldn't even clean herself properly. The masseuses knew the regimented oils and perfumes that suitors and her father had picked out for her. They knew the best forms of beauty to add to her and to merge into her skin. She was merely a trophy, not meant to care, only to enjoy.

She lazily turned onto her back and kicked her legs against the water. She didn't want to cause any noise, other than the gurgling and slapping of the water against the tile on the edges, but she did want to feel the movement of the water on her more. It was such a freeing feeling, a feeling of transcendent emotion, but one that would go away with the end of the bath. She would feel it again, in her dreams, during her sleep, sitting at the right hand of her fathers throne and listening to the constant repeat of pleas and petitions. It was a felling of freedom, either of her mind, or her body, or even her soul. She wanted freedom from the responsibility of movement, and so she stopped and let the current take her to the other side.

She opened her eyes again, realizing she had closed them, and saw that the maids where getting ready. She moved her legs back to the solid ground of the tile and stood up, letting the warm air and the cold water mix together in a sensuous understanding of her body. Drips and trickling water flowed off of her as she walked up the other side of the pool and watched the servants leave, their haul of treasure and clothes enough to fund the kingdom for a year. She thought about that as she got entirely to the surface again and went over to one of the windows and looked out at the city. They had no idea she was watching them. The angle of the palace, the bathhouse specifically, was designed for privacy, but she could still watch them back. She could still pretend for freedom.

She withdrew herself from those thoughts, knowing that if she tempted herself too much she would do something abhorrent. She realized that her mind was already in those areas and she wanted to take advantage of them while they where here. She looked to the door, thought of the guards standing just beyond the border. She wanted to go out to them, tell them of her want, and let them have their way with her, but she also knew she had duties to fulfill so instead she went aside. She went to a small stall, sectioned away from the rest of the bathhouse, and put her hand against the tile wall. She put her hand on a stone lever and pulled it to the side, opening the gate to the small stream above her head. She held her head back, sent her fingers through her hair once before the water landed on her head and began to clean.

The trickling sensuous feeling on her scalp was delectable and something which caused her to stir. She looked between the trellised pattern and saw that no one had arrived yet. No masseuses, no cleaner, no maidservant to ask what clothes she wanted, she was alone and free. She creeped a hand down to her sex, and still watching the door, she gripped one of the ornately crafted borders and began to have her own way. She felt for the same handhold she had gripped many times before as she continued to watch the door. She wasn't thinking of anything this time, she just wanted to poke and prod at the edge of her sensuality, while dozens of rippling fingers of water coiled down her spine and thighs. She watched the water trickle away into the drain under her lithe toes and the sound of flowing, gentle movement carried her away into pure sensation.

She tried to think about one of her suitors, or even some of the pleasure slaves her father had given to her. She tried to think of those scared faces, forced to orally please her but knowing that they where thinking of other things, such as their own families safety. She wished she could find pleasure in those things, but she couldn't. She simply focused on the sensation of the liquid running down her thigh. She kept her eyes on the door and began to press further in, scratching and moving her thumb over her want, feeling more and more intensity as she tried to consider anything in her mind which would be worth this violation. She was betraying her fathers expectations, the kingdoms expectations, the expectations of her teachers and her mother and she didn't care. She was free here, and she was alone.

That thought made her smile as she let out a small gasp. She winced and blinked and then refocused on the door, leaning more firmly on partition. That fantasy tempted her, someone coming through and seeing her shame. What would she say, what would she do? Most of the masseuses' knew her want and they secretly helped her reach her goal, despite the silence they had to keep for the guards outside, but the cleaners and perfumers where here for a job. They would report her infidelity to her father all for the sake of a few gold pieces. It was such a small thing to her, but she understood it. It was what made her smarter, smarter than any of her suitors, more capable than any political advisor or prince to came to her fathers court. That thought caused her to push into herself even more, buzzing her lust with jolting fingers under the outer reaches of her skin.

She was alone, and she was free.

There was a noise.

She kept watching the door as she shook her hair free some more and gave a few haunting breaths. She took her hand away from her sex and took a moment to look around. She saw no one and no one was passing through the door and the only sound she could hear now as the trickle of the water falling on her head. She made up her story as she washed her hand and thought about the lie she would tell. She liked to clean her hair first, she would tell the perfumers, she was getting the guards used to a running water sound, she would tell the masseuses. She would kiss, or lie, and go sit on the pedestal and wait for it all to be over, just so she could endure the next round of whatever torment this gilded prison she was to face.

In a lot of ways it was better than the alternative. At least she had luxury, at least she had relaxation, all she had to do was give up her mentality and judgment. She wanted something else, something different, something that allowed her to embrace the shame of her existence, the substance of reality which created her. She looked for the noise again, but saw no one and so once again she began to scratch that indefatigable itch. It was entirely hers, an entirely internal desire, one she could fulfill entirely by herself. She massaged her breast slightly with her other hand as she continued to hold herself under the steaming water falling slightly on her head. It was so warm, so comforting, such pleasure approaching from somewhere within her. She saw herself as a machine and as this simple action as the purpose of that machine.

Again, there was a noise and her head jolted up from her bliss filled reverie and she looked in its direction. She had gotten a better grasp on the sound now, it was a scratching, stone against stone sound. She confirmed that the sound she had heard earlier was much the same, and it had come from the window trellises next to the saunas on the other side of the bathhouse. She turned the lever and shut off the flow of the heated stream above her, letting the trickling sound eventually die down as the drain slipped the clear waters away.

Daintily, she walked to the end of the partition and looked out to the main room. The pools, both hot and cold, remained undisturbed, smooth and mirror sheen, while the tiled surface of the large warm pool was still calming down from her dip. She moved forward a bit, confident that no one was here, but still sensing something. She took careful steps on the sleek tile, the crest of her feet pressing against the surface. She was warm now and the sunlight hitting her naked body was calming and inviting. But she was alone and she knew she was. She sighed as she came to the middle of the room. She looked to the open door again and frowned, wishing someone would come through. She was getting anxious now and while she appreciated the fact that the palace bathhouse was emptied for her, she now wished for some sort of companionship.

But she couldn't leave, and she didn't want to remain without full visuals on the bathhouse, so she decided to investigate herself. She wondered if some brave slave would have dared to make their way up the side of the walls to see her bathe, or if a simple civilian had paid a guard and had gotten careless. She could find pride in that idea, the power her beauty had on men, but she also didn't like it. This was her space, her space of freedom, and she didn't want it disturbed by anyone she didn't know.

Yet it was that insistence which pulled her forward. She wanted to know more than she wanted to be safe, which was what led to her being so trapped. If she was like any of her fathers friends daughters, simplistic in mind and body, she would be happy, she would run to the guards and beg them to find whatever it was she had heard, but she wasn't like them. She would see what was different, she would see what the problem was and she would figure it out and find a way to overcome it.

That small thought gave her comfort as she looked down the halls of saunas. She didn't see anything amiss, the doors to the rooms closed for the summer months. She tried to figure out what the sound could have been, but nothing came to her eyes and part of her began to assume that it was just a small anxiety, something that she had made herself hear. Maybe it was just a strange way the waters coiling around the drain in the shower had made a noise. She assumed that it was as simple as that, that this day would be no different from any other, and she turned around and left. She did not notice the rippling of the plunge pool at the end of the hall. She did not see the grim shadow of some unseen form between the partitions of the nearest sauna.

She walked back into the main chamber and then went to the window again. She leaned on the sill and looked out to the city once more, contemplating their freedom, contemplating their poverty. She liked the idea that she was gracious enough to donate money to their struggling efforts, that she was pure of heart to give them a moment of her attention, but she also knew that the people she wanted to see and the stories she wanted to hear where not the ones she was given. She wanted the beggars story, the lepers story, the story of the orphaned and the widowed, not the poor plights of some mine owner. She hated that, but she also realized there was little she could do. Her job was to shut up and look pretty, and she did look pretty.

So she turned around and began to walk over to one of the small ceramic benches to continue to wait for her caretakers. It was then she hear the third, and final sound. It came from the showers she had just been, and it was clearly the sound of a boot against tile. Her heart raced as she saw movement flicker between the circular, floral patterns, and then her breathing picked up as her mind finally understood that the form was human, male, and clothed. Her mind, rushing to the natural conclusion, immediately injected her with adrenaline and she rushed away from the showers.

The operation had been three men, one to hold open the exit, a small slide away stone ornament over the plunge pool which could only be opened from one side, one to check all the hidden corners to prevent her from being anywhere that she could make a sound to summon the guards to her danger, and one to close in. The one checking the hidden corners had been seen and the trap had to be sprung early. They where lucky that her desire for freedom and peace had prevented her from yelling out, since she had about 5 seconds to do such a thing. The one from the showers rushed around the partition while the one standing beside the door to the guards outside made himself known and began rushing towards her. She didn't slip, her mind was working overtime to make sure she survived, but she didn't rely on her guards. She simply froze, realizing the two dark cloaked bodies where approaching her.

The one from the showers caught up with her first, gripping her mouth, silencing her and deftly throwing a submission hood over her head. It restricted her movement and gagged her, it's nano-fabric nature adjusting to give her just enough to live, but not enough to struggle. She could no longer scream, only fight, but against two men who where clearly trained in some sort of abduction art, it was useless. It was only then that she realized that the strange scent of the black cloth was a sleeping drug, something that her father must have used plenty of times on his own consorts. It adapted to her breathing, letting her breath in enough through her panicked intense gasps to let the calming drug into her bloodstream. The last thing she felt was her muscles growing week and her body being turned into the object she knew it was, by the men deftly bundling her into a long, swaddling cloth, and tying it tight, turning her into nothing more than a raw package of stolen goods.

The job was done so quickly that no one knew what had happened for at least two hours. When the perfumers came in, they realized she wasn't there, and it hadn't seemed like she had ever been there. They thought there had been some error and they didn't even talk to the guards as they left to go about other tasks. It was only when the guards finally got confused and uncomfortable that the palace seem to finally realize that something was wrong. There was a flurry, a rapid action, an attempt to figure out what had happened, but there was no explainable answer. It was as she had been transformed into water and slid out of the drain, out of existence all together.

Her father could assume what this was, an actually successful political kidnapping, but he couldn't understand how it was done, or who would have done it. Everyone he knew who was smart enough to pull something like this off, he already had under his payroll or dead, and he kept his daughters schedule within the palace a secret even from the his own guardsmen. There was no one would could have planned this, except for some incredibly competent, and incredibly dedicated group. So he raised no alarm, keeping a peaceful and steady hand over the kingdom, willing to wait and see what these monsters wanted before activating the full wrath of his armies to get her back.