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Prolog
Despite my habit of continual self-deprecation, I like to think that I'm a good person. I only steal from people who can afford the loss, I've never killed save in self-defense, and I occasionally contribute some of my ill-gotten loot to the Temple of Phaedra, to help those less fortunate than myself (even though I suspect the priests use most of it to fund off-night orgies with women from the Red Temple). I have never denied enjoying sex, but I've only wanted it with willing partners. The notion of inflicting pain during sex, or even pretending that it wasn't voluntary had always been somewhat alien to me. I hadn't really caught onto the notion that not everyone in the world feels that way.
Case in point: back when I was a lowly swordsman/apprentice sorcerer at the Imperial Magic Academy, I was a lot more idealistic than I am now. I used to stay out late, hoping to interrupt a mugging in progress, rescue a maiden from brigands, or possibly foil a Slaerthist plot to turn the imperial court into geckoes. Much to my regret, I had never had the chance to do any of these things. Never, that is, until that fateful night when a full moon rode in the skies above Godhome, occasionally obscured by drifting grey clouds, and I saw a coffle of hooded, chained figures being herded into a back entrance of the Temple of Kashella of the Nine Whips, a sect known for their exuberance and love of suffering.
Readying my saber, I crept closer, noting that as the last figure was herded in by burly, whip-wielding guards, the door shut behind them, but failed to latch. Waiting a suitable period, I edged the door open, loosing my blade and reviewing my meager list of offensive spells.
The hallway was narrow, lit by occasional lantern-boxes, and as I slowly made my way down it, I heard disturbing sounds echoing from ahead of me -- the sounds of screams, impassioned blows and pleas for mercy. Gods, I thought, what monstrous evil were the Kashellists up to now? Up to this point, they'd confined their sadism to each other -- now, had they taken to stealing innocent citizens and inflicting wicked torments on their unwilling flesh? Well, if that was the case, they'd have to deal with Wulf the Sorcerer!
The corridor widened into a vault-ceilinged room, and I cautiously peeked out into the dim light beyond. The scene was enough to make my blood freeze.
In the vast chamber, at least a dozen individuals, male and female, ranging in age from their early twenties to their late fifties, naked or nearly so, writhed in chains, shackles, or on low, leather-padded benches. Tormenting them was a squad of leather-clad men and women, their faces concealed by hoods or masks, all emblazoned with Kashella's whip-sigil. The victims were being whipped with crops, flogged with cats, poked, prodded, their various extremities pinched in vices.
There were other-- to my young eyes even less savory -- torments going on, but I didn't wait. I bounded into the room, brandishing my saber (no, not that one -- the metal one... I know what you're thinking, you perverse little mother-grabber...) and trying to prepare a spell of stunning.
"Hold, you torturing bastards!" I shouted. "Don't move and no one gets hurt! [Yes, it was an idiotic thing to say given the circumstances, but I was young and stupid] Now, let your prisoners go!"
There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone in the room, torturers and tortured, stared at me in wide-eyed astonishment. Then, a familiar voice spoke up.
"Wulf? Is that you?"
I gaped, my head spinning, as one of the "victims," a portly, middle-aged man, his head strapped into an eyeless leather mask, easily unshackled himself , then pulled off the mask to reveal the rheumy-eyed, bearded countenance of Professor Fimbagel, my Necromancy 101 teacher.
I lowered my sword slowly, face reddening, as I realized that not a single victim was racing for safety, and that several of the torturers were giggling loudly under their hoods.
"Gods, Wulf," barked Fimbagel, throwing down his mask in disgust. "You sure know how to wreck a good evening."
I stepped back, reeling with embarrassment and fled, as the giggles erupted into raucous laughter, from both victims and torturers.
As I dashed back down the hall, Fimbagel's voice echoed in my ears.
"See you in class, Wulf!"
It was my first inkling that the world is often not quite as it seems.
You may know me as Wulf the Freelance, general knockabout and victim of circumstance. Then again, you may not. In that case, I'll simply say that I'm one of those rootless adventurers who's supposed to stride the kingdoms of the world and crush the thrones of the mighty beneath my sandaled feet. Actually, I'm a rather scruffy-looking professional larcenist who knows just enough magic, swordplay, acrobatics and courtly manners to get myself out a convenient door or window whenever the going gets tough.
Those who read my previous memoir might remember that when I left off I was still in the form of an n'doro, or lion-man, the result of a veldt-lands sorcerer with a sick sense of humor. I'd been captured by superstitious locals, who had ignored my protestations that while I may have looked like a bipedal lion, I was actually a cowardly, cringing human thief who just wanted to go home and blow what remained of his money on a huge jar of ale and -- if possible -- an attractive young Red Temple prostitute with a recently-validated health certificate.
What I got was dragged up onto an auction block and sold to one Countess Xylara, a white-skinned, white-haired, and red-eyed Xeshite noblewoman with, I was later to learn, a taste for the exotic. Of course, given my luck, she wasn't even a deviant in any traditional sense I was aware of, but that's getting ahead of my story.
I was taken, still chained and protesting a blue streak to a couple of eunuchs who probably didn't even speak Imperial Common, to Xylara's barge -- an ornate, gilded seagoing abomination drawn by a team of twelve matched hippocampi. There, I was taken belowdecks, and given over to the attention of a second pair of thugs -- ogres this time, who grunted, and urged me into a vaulted chamber.
"Wash, cat-boy," growled the first. "The mistress likes 'em clean. Heh, heh, heh."
"Heh, heh, heh, heh," replied the second (apparently they'd both had the same dialog coach), who unchained me, then slammed and locked the door.
For the first time in weeks, I was alone and unchained and in civilized surroundings. So civilized, I reflected, as to tip over into the bottomless abyss of decadence.
The room was windowless save for a tiny porthole which a sprite might have had a hard time fitting through (I didn't even bother to consider escape by this route), but lit by numerous blue-white mage-globes, items owned, back in the White Empire, only by wealthy nobles and merchants, and then only one or two at a time. Everywhere I looked, I saw richly polished dark wood, brass and soft carpets. The room was subdivided into numerous levels, each railed and comfortably furnished with couches, leather chairs, and even hanging plants, arranged sort of like a reverse ziggurat. All the levels led down to the bottom of the room, where an ocean-sized alabaster tub lay, water gushing in through spigots carved in the form of laughing porpoises. The water steamed gently, and pink flowers floated on the surface.
I wasn't sure whether these were special guest accommodations, or if this was considered to be the slaves' quarters -- I wasn't about to question my position. Since I was already naked save for a filthy little loincloth which covered about nothing, I didn't waste a lot of time undressing, but instead plunged into the massive tub, feeling hot water inundate my every pore and orifice, soaking the tawny fur which still covered my body, massaging my weary muscles. With a sigh, I sank beneath the surface, letting the water soak into the rough, matted hair of my mane (I'd been a lion-man for several weeks now, but I still wasn't entirely used to it).
When I breached the surface again, I was afraid that the accumulated filth of weeks of travel across the Veldtlands would have turned the water black, but it seemed that some sort of drainage system whisked away the soiled water even as more poured from the spigot. Gods, had I actually managed to land on my feet yet again? I was, after all, a cat, if only temporarily.
I luxuriated in the water for many minutes, wondering exactly what was going to happen. Of course, I had my suspicions; Xeshites are a notoriously perverse and sybaritic race, and the countess' expression when she bought me had been anything but wholesome and generous. She had, I thought, looked at me with the same expression as a spoiled rich child presented with a unique and expensive toy by an indulgent parent. Given the Xeshite's well-known propensities for deviant behavior, I harbored few illusions as to exactly what she intended to do with her new toy. Lion-men were apparently rare outside the Veltlands (my auctioneer had actually suggested that I was some kind of coward since I'd allowed myself to be captured alive), and I suppose the various Xeshite men, women and animals might get tiresome and dull after the fiftieth or sixtieth time. I sighed.
It wasn't much later that I got my first inkling as to what Countess Xylara intended. Along the wall of one of the middle-elevated sections of the room, a panel slid silently open. Its appearance, though soundless, made me jump, setting up a tidal wave of hot, perfumed water and flower petals.
Through the opening came a remarkable vision. It was a woman -- human, and by the look of her hailing from Litharna or Murvane. She was short, pale-skinned, with a tiny, triangular face and large, brown eyes. Her hair was jet black, tied into a long braid which hung down behind her. She wore a pale lavender satin robe, which swished and moved alluringly as she approached me. Behind her, the panel slid shut once again.
"Hello," I said as politely as I could muster, in Imperial Common. "Uhh..."
"Hello, lion-man," she replied in a pleasant voice, sensuously accented and heavy with implications. "I am Alrynna, slave to Countess Xylara.
"Uhhh..." I said again, trying to keep my mouth from hanging open. I was acutely aware that she was naked beneath the robe, and I hadn't enjoyed the carnal company of a female since the life-sucking daemoness at the Alabaster Temple, an experience which I wouldn't have wished on my worst enemy. I felt a faint stirring beneath the water, and hoped that it wouldn't be too obvious. "Charmed. I'm not really a lion-man, you know..."
"It doesn't matter," Alrynna replied, gliding forward like a cloud. "Xylara wanted a lion-man, so lion-man you shall be. I have been ordered to offer myself to you, lion-man. As Countess Xylara is your mistress, absolute and unquestioned, so are you my master, to do with as you choose."
As I gaped (I should really stop being so astonished at how randy everyone else in the world is, but they keep surprising me), she slipped out of the robe, presenting to me a body carved of pale stone, legs full and muscular, a whispy thatch of pubic hair between them, belly slightly curved, breasts small and well-formed, her pink nipples stiffening as they were exposed to the air.
"How may I serve you, master?" she asked. "May I join you in your bath?"
"Of course, if you want," I babbled, the old human Wulf showing through the muscular and exotic lion-man exterior. "I mean, I haven't seen a woman like you in..."
She stepped into the water without raising a ripple and silenced me with a kiss, fitting her lips to my short muzzle and slipping her tongue into my mouth.
"No talk," she whispered. "The Mistress wishes me to please you." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "She instructed me to repeat these words to you exactly: `This slave is yours. Do with her as you choose. If she does not please you, whip her or beat her as you like. She is not to deny you any pleasure, short of her own death. If she shows the least hesitation in any way, you may punish her, then inform me so that I, too, may punish her. She is commanded to serve and obey you as she serves and obeys me, and as you are to serve and obey me when the time comes. Enjoy the pleasure of her body, and take her as hard and as often as you desire. So say I, Countess Xylara of Xesh'."
I gaped, jaw hanging. These words, repeated in that soft, sensual voice, from that delicate mouth, its owner sitting beside me, naked in the warm water, white skin wet, tiny breasts just beneath the water, were like foul curses issuing from a Rexxaran vestal. I was speechless.
"Do you understand my mistress' words?" she asked, concern etching her elfin features. "If I have not recited them to your satisfaction--"
"No!" I barked, making her jump and splash more water. "You did fine. Nothing wrong with your delivery at all. You were perfect. In fact, possibly the best recitation from memory I have ever heard. No need for punishment or chastisement of any kind."
"Oh." I'd swear she looked disappointed. "I am glad that my master is pleased with me. Now," her features hardened, and a look of unrestrained lust glittered in her brown-black eyes, "how may this slave serve you?"
If she didn't love her work, she certainly gave a good impression of doing so. We embraced and tongued each other in the bath, warm water lapping at us, hands sliding over slick skin, touching, stroking, rubbing, teasing. In about a half-dozen heartbeats I was as hard as a rock (I forgot to mention that the stupid shaman who stuck me with that trebly-damned lion-man body also gave me an organ the size of a prize Shalban squash -- by the way, that means really big, for people who aren't familiar with Shalban squashes and their dimensions). Her nimble fingers danced up and down my cock's engorged length, alternating pressure with light, tickling touches so cunningly that I was seriously considering coming when she drew me out of the bath and led me to one of the room's several couches.
There, she toweled me dry, but as I reached for her she gently stopped me, and stepped back. As I watched, my lust rekindling along with an uncomfortable pounding in my temples, she spent a majority of the time stimulating herself with the towel, and a minority of it actually drying herself. She rubbed its rough surface across her nipples, and I watched as they distended into fleshy pink knobs. An observant lass, she noticed that this appealed to me, so she played with them more, stroking and pinching, squeezing so hard that she moaned softly. Then she drew the towel between her legs, pulling it back and forth against the neatly trimmed patch at the junction of her thighs, breathing harder and harder as she did so. The white fabric slipped between the fleshy folds of her labia, rubbing roughly against the soft skin of her cunt, against her clit and -- I assumed, since she pulled it backwards with equal fervor -- her asshole. I realize that this is not a sensation which most women of my acquaintance would relish, but judging by her expression, it put Alrynna into a near-ecstatic state, body trembling, eyes closed, lips tightly pursed, breasts quivering and tight as a mainsheet in a high wind.
Well, this would be enough to put any male who expressed even a passing interest in the opposite sex well in the mood, human or not. I was certainly no exception, and I realized that my erection had grown downright painful. I rationalized that since Alrynna had seemed so eager to please, it couldn't hurt to put her to the test.
"Get over here, gorgeous," I said, sitting up and indicating my uncomfortably hard shaft. "Apply some of that enthusiasm here."
She seemed a bit surprised at my phrasing (not the most original in the world, I'm the first to admit), but smiled warmly, replied, "As the master wishes," and slipped down between my knees, soft pink tongue flicking along the underside of my cock.
"Does this please my master?" she asked, then gave me one more long lick and encircled my cockhead with her lips.
"Oh, yes," I replied, "I would say that it does."
My, the woman was talented. As noted, my non-human equipment was considerably more massive than what I'd carried as a man (I've never been obsessed with such things, but it was damned hard to miss), but Alrynna's skilled mouth managed to get around it all, then slide it effortlessly down her throat. Though the sensation threatened to overwhelm me, I was still able to gape in surprise as most of my sizable organ vanished between those seemingly-tiny lips.
I groaned. "Harder," I gasped. "Teeth..."
She got the idea, lightly scoring the flesh of my cock with her small white teeth, slipping it in and out of her with greater and greater speed and force each time. I felt the hot urgency of building orgasm, and she must have felt it, too, for she released me, then began tugging at my cock with both hands, flicking her tongue across my sensitive head.
Another groan escaped me. "Gods..." I managed, "I don't think I can..."
I didn't. Weeks of dealing with frustrated lion-man libido (they only have sex every few months, but when they do it's an all-out orgy) combined with a normal human sex drive (that is to say, the desire to have sex more than twice a year) had put me in a horrific state while I traveled alone across the veldt, forcing me more than once into the arms of those reliable stand-bys, Mother Thumb and Her Four Daughters. With the exception of a life-draining snake-daemoness in a ruined temple (an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy -- then again, maybe I would...), I hadn't enjoyed female company in a couple of months.
I engage in all this useless exposition to explain why, a moment later, I unleashed a geyser of hot white come all over Alrynna's hands and lips, an event which she greeted with unrestrained delight, continuing to lick and suck and pull at my cock even as my eruption subsided into twitching after-shocks.
"Ahhh, master," she said, rolling onto her back beside me, her face still streaked with my come. "Our mistress will be pleased."
Rationality returned to me in a sudden rush, and, as Alrynna cleaned us both with towel and tongue, I realized exactly what I'd landed in.
I wasn't stupid (I lack good sense most of the time, but I've never considered myself stupid), so the purpose of Alrynna's demonstration wasn't lost on me. She'd obviously been trying me out for the mistress, and would return with the report that I was hung like a mountain troll, came like a volcano, and liked to watch women masturbating with towels (although I didn't come by the first two honestly, the third was legitimate). Rexxara and Phaedra... Was that good or bad?
I thought on it for a few moments, watching Alrynna finish sopping up the remains of my orgasm with the towel -- her skin was so white, her breasts so small and compact, her face elfin and innocent...
One other thing I should remind you of -- as lion-men only have sex every three to six months, they seem to store up their libidos, and are able to come four or five times in a given session and, as you know, I hadn't had sex in quite a while.
Again, I'm running off at the mouth here -- the fact is that my cock began to stir again, and I gazed at Alrynna with newly-kindled lust.
As her towel dragged across the sensitive flesh of my organ, it sprang up once more, filling up like a boiling sausage.
Alrynna looked up, an instant of surprise flashing in her eyes, then got the idea, and smiled wickedly.
"It's back," I said. "I think I'd like to put it inside you this time."
"As my master wishes," she said, simply.
I figured that she would appreciate a little stimulation of her own. My tongue had approximately the same consistency as the towel she had enjoyed so much -- I figured she'd appreciate my applying it to her with equal enthusiasm.
I was wrong. She didn't simply appreciate it, she pretty much went wild. The rough surface scraped at her thighs and she sighed. I touched her mons, and she moaned. I spread the soft lips apart and ran my tongue over the moist pink cuntflesh inside, and she screamed.
I drew back. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did that hurt?"
She looked down at me with a frustrated expression. "No!" she barked. "Don't stop!"
Awfully demanding for a slave, I thought, as I returned to my job, rubbing my tongue against her cunt, touching the rapidly-swelling protrusion of her clitoris. She let out a piercing shriek which rapidly rose into the supersonic, grabbed the back of my heavily-maned head, shoving my face against her pussy.
I licked faster and harder -- gods, it didn't seem to hurt her, so I figured what the hell. The harder I licked, the more she moaned and screamed, and when I slipped a finger into her cunt, rubbing the inside walls and feeling her juices come thicker and heavier. A moment later, she did something I hadn't ever experienced before (except later with Narisha, but she's a demon, and they're built differently) -- she tensed, a strangled cry escaping her throat, and unleashed her own orgasm, a flood of sticky, sweet-tasting liquid, rushing out of her pussy, drenching my face, her thighs, and the couch beneath.
We fell apart for a few moments, both panting heavily. My cock was still hard enough to cut glass, but she was overwhelmed by sensation for a moment.
"Oh, master," Alrynna sighed. "No one but my mistress has ever done that before..."
Aha, I thought... the plot thickens.
"And I think," I replied, "that you're the first woman who's come all over me. I liked it."
"Let me fuck you," she said. "Put your cock inside me..."
I wasn't about to argue, and allowed her to slip astride me, holding up my rod, and slipping it between her still-sopping pink cunt-lips.
"Ahhhh..." she gasped as she slid down onto me. She was tight, her cunt gripping me, and I slowly slid into her against substantial resistance. She loved every instant of it, releasing a string of tiny moans and sighs, until at last the entire length of my enlarged n'doro penis had filled her.
Then the motion began -- slowly at first, she rocked up and down, rising and falling on my cock, her juices lubricating the way, cunt still clinging to me in a tight corolla.
I sat up and grabbed her shoulders, rasping my tongue against her small breasts, watching with satisfaction as her nipples swelled and hearing her moans increase.
"Harder," she gasped. "Bite me."
No longer concerned about hurting her -- damme but it only seemed to excite her more -- I bit down on one luscious pale nipple. An avalanche of contractions raced through her body, and I felt her come around me once more, clamping down so hard that I almost winced in pain. Sensation overwhelmed me and I let my claws -- carefully sheathed until now -- slip out, and ran them, firmly but not too hard, down Alrynna's heaving flanks, leaving tiny pink furrows behind, scratching but not breaking the skin.
"Ohhhhh..." Another soul-deep gasp escaped from her, and her cunt closed in on me once more. The heavy contractions continued, milking my cock, squeezing and releasing, until I, too came once more, erupting another load of come into Alrynna's heaving cunt.
I'm not entirely clear on what happened after that, since the weariness of the preceding weeks suddenly crashed down on me, and in a few moments I was out cold (not terribly considerate to Alrynna, I realized, and vowed to make up for it later), to dream of what might lie in store for me over the next few months.
Lady Xylara put in an appearance a couple of days later, or rather I was summoned to her presence. The ogres showed up again, friendly as always (an unusual state for an ogre, let me tell you -- normally they have all the personality of a small piece of wood, and the social skills of a rabid wolverine), informed me that I was expected to bathe and groom myself, then escorted me out on deck. The sea was an unbelievably deep blue, choppy and foaming, save for a large bubble around the barge itself which remained flat and placid -- some sort of enchantment, I suspected. This tub needed it -- an ornate nightmare of excessive Xeshite naval architecture, lacking sails or oars, and towed by captive hippocampi, we'd be swamped in anything rougher than a stiff breeze. A squadron of small Xeshite armed cutters also accompanied us, remaining close enough to assist if pirates or Jarreks showed up (whether these were an official government escort, or part of Xylara's household troops, I wasn't able to find out).
"In there, puss," grunted my escort, indicating the baroque nightmare near the stern which seemed to serve as captain's (or at least owner's) quarters. "Say hi to the mistress for us."
"Heh, heh, heh," said the other. Ogres are easily amused.
Not knowing what the hell to expect, I walked through the gilded, overdecorated door and into the scented chambers within.
Once more, I felt like a bug on a plate. The center of the room, where I now stood, was its lowest point; the remainder was tiered, like an amphitheater, similar to my luxury prison belowdecks. It was softly lit and hung with silken material, and on the tier immediately above me lounged the pale-skinned, white-haired Xeshite creature who had bought me a week before.
She was of the same type as the lovely Alrynna -- that is to say she was small and slender, as if delicately crafted from carved ivory. Her skin was even paler than that of her slave -- milk white, in fact, far paler than any woman I'd ever seen before, without even a trace of color. Her hair was similarly without pigment, luxuriant ropes of pure white, hanging around her like a cloak as she reclined on a low padded couch above me. If she stood, I'd swear that her hair would drag on the ground.
The mistress regarded me coolly, with strange eyes. Their whites were normal, but her irises were blood-red, surrounding deep black pupils. Her face was oval, soft and fragile-seeming, her mouth small and a lustrous pinkish color.
Countess Xylara was wrapped in a white satin robe, a few intricate traces of red embroidery offsetting the altogether colorless nature of her skin and the fabric.
After a few moments, Xylara extended an arm with an elaborate flourish.
"Kneel, slave," she said in a high, tiny voice which was at the same time charged with authority. "I am your mistress, and you shall serve me as I desire. You are not familiar with what is expected of a slave, so your current insolence will be forgiven. In future it will not, however. Now, kneel before your mistress."
I'm a practical man. I realized that I wasn't in any position to argue. With one call, my delicate little Xeshite bitch-queen could summon a squad of ogres, without the kind sensibilities of my escorts, who would relish the thought of beating me bloody, twisting a few limbs in the wrong direction, snipping off various important parts of my anatomy, and tossing me to the sharks, whom I suspected were different from the ones I'd signed the treaty with, and who probably wouldn't really care in any event.
Needless to say, I kneeled.
"What would my mistress have of me?" I asked, although, as you might guess, my razor-keen intellect was racing with plans for escape. Unfortunately, none of them would work, so I figured that I'd think on them later.
Xylara smiled. "You learn quickly, lion-man. Do you have a name?"
"Yes," I replied.
The silence stretched out between us as she waited for me to provide it. For my part, all she'd asked me is whether I had one, and I'd be damned if I gave her any more that what was actually required.
"Ah," she said at last. "As you obviously won't tell me, I'll have to call you Nummy Muffin Kookoo Butter --"
"NO!" I roared. "My name's Wul -- uh -- Chuma, all right? Does that please my mistress?" I snapped insolently, using the name of the lion-man whose pride I'd temporarily usurped.
She chuckled. "You have spirit, Chuma. And Alrynna tells me you have other skills, as well. I hope you enjoyed her company."
"I liked her well enough," I replied, trying not to let on that I'd spent the last night or two feverishly thinking about her.
"I see. Well, that is good, for you will probably be enjoying her company quite a bit from now on."
Damn... Maybe this Xeshite noblewoman was going to be kinder than I'd thought...
"I can tell that you like the idea, lion-man," she said and laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "Now, although you are my slave, and are bound to do as I desire, I will tell you about myself nonetheless. Perhaps it will help you serve me better." She shifted her position, settling comfortably into her chaise, the fabric of her robe stretching across her breasts, giving me a brief silhouette of a stiff nipple.
"Listen to my story, slave. It will tell you much.
Xylara
The jungle pressed in upon Xesh like a tight green veil, hot and stifling. A great verdant fist of humidity, the entire nation was wrapped in its sweltering embrace, and its people, unable to tame the jungle, simply decided to become like it. In vast stone cities, the Xeshites feasted off the bounty of the jungle, and learned to live with its rhythms. With plentiful food, few went hungry, and the vast surpluses of food created a thriving economy. Hardwoods were harvested from the seemingly inexhaustible forests, gold and silver panned from its rivers, slaves torn mercilessly from its indigenous peoples.
The Xeshites grew bored and wealthy. Decadence crept into what was once a prosperous and vital culture. Nobles dwelled in elaborate towers or jungle estates, engaged in elaborate intrigues, complex love affairs, and wild games of love and murder. Many wandered into a wilderness of drug-induced dreams, never to return. Others indulged their most perverse whims, creating mad and horrific amalgams of sex, torture, death and mutilation. The jungle wilderness, where chaos reigned and only the strong survived, had completely taken root in the Xeshite psyche.
Count Utharzi yi-Exyndra controlled nine separate estates, ranging from Brass Tower, in the city of Xesh itself, to the riverside complex known as the Moonpool. He had six daughters and two sons. All wished to be the sole heir to Utharzi's vast possessions. His daughters were Tysha -- tall, slender, with long black hair that had never been cut, and who wished only to become a priestess of Phaedra; Udra -- pale of skin, with thin, crinkly red hair and deep blue eyes, a schemer and dabbler in black magic; Nineh -- blonde, lush bodied, given to overindulgence in wine, herb-smoke and dream powders, dedicated only to more and more elaborate debauchery with her harem of slaves, the first of which she recruited when she was but fourteen years old; Daeshi -- skeletally thin, with frosty blue hair, quiet, possessed of a cold and deadly intelligence, daughter of a union between Utharzi and a Litharnan mistress, who died in childbirth; Nyxra -- dusky skinned and black haired, dedicated to her father and apparently untouched by the malevolence and perversity which lurked in the Xeshite soul; and Xylara -- youngest and frailest of the six, born with milk-white skin, red eyes and snowy hair, largely ignored by her father and shunned by the remainder of the family. Utharzi's sons were Kyric -- an athletic, muscular black-haired young man of great bravery, but little intelligence, and Thorvaz -- thin, weak, and gawky, but plainly the brightest and most dangerous of the family. Thorvaz had little time for the elaborate debauchery and affairs which Xeshite tradition demanded, but gave himself instead to the study of sorcery, and the development of an elaborate network of spies, informers and agents throughout his household, and among rival houses as well.
Of this family, Thorvaz and Daeshi were reckoned most likely to succeed their father, while the others were expected to receive small shares of his estate. Rather than competing with each other, the two developed an alliance of sorts, with each dedicated to supporting the other's claim, and intent upon a close relationship after Utharzi finally passed away. Exactly how close Thorvaz and Daeshi's alliance was proved the source of many rumors and obscene speculations, but no one was able to prove that their relationship was any more than political.
Utharzi himself was a stern, black-bearded man who shunned many Xeshite traditions. He refused to shave his head, and enjoyed engaging in physical labor. He personally led many slave-taking expeditions into the jungle, often returning home with appalling wounds. The Xeshite primarch awarded Utharzi the order of the silver griffin for his selfless bravery during the Third Jarrek Incursion, in which the reptile-men, weary of the constant drain of Xeshite slave-raids on their villages, banded together and tried to sack Xesh itself. It was said that ten thousand jarrek war-canoes filled the harbor of Xesh, and that the city would indeed have fallen had Utharzi and his household troops (many of them jarrek slaves themselves) not held the gates of the primarch's palace for two hours while the Xeshites rallied their forces.
Though he had little patience for the meaningless maneuverings of the Primarch's court, Utharzi was an exemplary Xeshite. His estates were maintained by legions of well-trained slaves, who were mercilessly punished for the slightest infraction, but also compelled to constantly express their love and admiration for their master and his family. His entertainments were painstakingly-planned masterpieces of eroticism and violence, often in combination. He maintained a seraglio containing dozens of young men and women from many nations, and there indulged in his various passions, the chief of which was the infliction of pain upon the innocent and untouched.
As for his family, Utharzi possessed mixed feelings. Thorvaz and Daeshi pleased him most of the time, though he often disparaged their frailty and unhealthy appearance. He would have much preferred his other son, Kyric, to be his heir, but eventually even Utharzi was forced to admit that the brawny warrior was nothing short of an idiot, fit primarily to fight battles, engage in endless athletic contests, eat, drink, and cavort with concubines.
Utharzi's opinion of the rest of his offspring varied. Tysha he genuinely loved, but found her religious ambitions distasteful. Udra, pale-skinned dabbler in necromancy and extra-planar sorcery, generally met with his approval, but was rarely present to receive it. Nineh chose to waste her time in elaborate couplings and carnal excess -- Utharzi thought this foolish, but at length decided it was a harmless phase which she would soon outgrow. Nyxra, seemingly unaware of the wickedness around her, doted on her father and loved him dearly, and Utharzi himself, in a rare display of restraint and fatherly love, saw to it that he did not engage in any of his favorite vices in her presence. Xylara, his youngest, was an albino and prone to many illnesses. Utharzi, who valued vigor and good health, tended to blame Xylara for her weakness, but otherwise paid her little mind.
Xylara grew up in a strange world, filled with doting servants, scheming siblings, a distant, disapproving father, and luxuries which might have seemed extreme and decadent in other lands, but were considered entirely normal by the Xeshites. Although Utharzi ignored his youngest, she was given an excellent education by highly skilled slaves, and grew up with a fundamental understanding of language, literature, science, mathematics, magic and history. As her desperate efforts to please her father and so earn his approval proved futile, she grew to realize, as childhood slipped imperceptibly into adolescence, that no one truly cared whether she lived or died, suffered or prospered, and that the only person she could truly rely upon was herself.
Xylara often wondered at the strange things her father and siblings did. She learned early what intimate relations between adults were; indeed, she never gave the matter much thought until womanhood bloomed in her, and the first feelings of passion and desire stirred in her loins. At first, her fingers satisfied the needs she felt late at night, and she slept peacefully. As months dragged on, however, the burning desire was harder and harder to quell. She was well into her sixteenth year when she decided to approach her sisters and ask for help.
By this time the weakling child, who had not been expected to live past her first year, had grown into a young woman of considerable beauty and intellect. Her studies had revealed many medications and herbs which provided her with strength, and Xylara's own will to live had created a vivacity far in excess of what anyone had expected. All the same, both her father and most of her siblings still thought of her as a helpless invalid, prone to illness and not likely to live long.
Of her various siblings, Xylara maintained the best relationship with Nineh, who seemed best able to understand and explain the changes and desires which wracked Xylara's body. She visited her at her private pavilion one summer day, as late afternoon shaded into the shadows of dusk.
Nineh greeted her sister warmly. She lounged indolently on a low couch, naked but for light scarves draped over her body, more for aesthetic effect than for warmth or protection. Thick, golden ringlets cascaded from her head, across broad white shoulders, framing a round, soft-featured face. Vain and self-indulgent, Nineh wore cosmetics constantly, her large blue eyes surrounded by black lines of kohl, her eyelids painted sapphire blue and purple, her lips constantly stained blood red. The rest of her body, inadequately concealed by orange and red silken scarves, was lush and full, her breasts pale pillows with large pink nipples, now slightly erect and swollen beneath the light silk, her hips wide and flaring, stomach and thighs full and inviting. Though her rivals and those outside the family often made disparaging comments about her body, calling her fat or corpulent, but Xylara always thought that Nineh's body fit her exquisitely, rounded, lush, excessive, yet also aesthetic and pleasing -- the sort of body which invited adoration and exuded raw desire.
"What brings you here, my love?" Nineh asked, stretching languorously, scarves growing taunt across the soft flesh of her breasts. "I'm expecting Grey and Thalim soon."
Xylara settled herself on a settee facing her sister. "I have some questions for you. They might even bear some relation to your activities with Grey and Thalim."
Nineh's eyes widened somewhat at this, her interest piqued. "Speak on, sister. I'm always happy to aid in your education."
Xylara smiled briefly. She was dressed far more modestly than Nineh, in a pearl-grey tunic with a narrow silver belt and sandals, but she was neither embarrassed by her sister's near-nudity, nor self-conscious at her own apparent modesty. She had practiced what to say, and began without preamble.
"I know what you do with the slaves. I know the other sisters do it, too, though Tysha seems uninterested. I see pictures in my mind of you and your slaves, when you're all naked, and they're touching you. Sometimes I think of what you do, and I touch myself." She stroked her thighs lightly, and indicated a point between them. "Here."
Nineh seemed pleased. "Do you really? Does that give you pleasure?"
Xylara nodded. "Oh, yes. It is as if my entire body tingles, and compresses down to a single point. It's as if I'm on fire, and it is all quenched at once. It gives me great pleasure, sister."
The blonde woman gave a brief laugh. "Wonderful, Xylara. You please me. We were worried about you for many years."
Xylara frowned. "Worried about me? Why?"
"You were so... frail," Nineh replied after a brief pause. "You seemed so sickly and unable to care for yourself. Even if you lived, we feared you would never know... the sort of pleasure you describe."
"I've had to care for myself, sister," Xylara said dourly. "Neither father nor most of my brothers and sisters seemed concerned."
"I was, sister. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for you."
"Pity you didn't show it more often, Nineh. It would have improved my life immeasurably to know that you cared for me."
Nineh shrugged. "I'm sorry, sister. I do care for you. Perhaps now I can make amends for past inattentiveness."
"I'm sure you can. You know that I'm no fool, sister. Fools do not live long in this family."
Another laugh. "What about Kyric?"
Xylara nodded, smiling grimly. "Without father's protection he'd have been fed to the hounds long ago. In any event, I've lived long enough to know what you do. I've read, I've watched --"
"Evidently you have," Nineh interrupted. "I wasn't aware of your presence when I've been at play with the slaves."
"You're no fool either, Nineh. You know that father has spy-holes everywhere. Even in your pavilion."
Nineh made a dismissive gesture. "Of course. I wouldn't be surprised if the randy old goat has watched me himself once or twice."
"To repeat myself, dearest sister -- I know what you do, and I know that it is related to what I feel when I touch myself. I've read all the books. Sometimes I read them before I touch myself. Sometimes I make up my own scenes and imagine them as I touch myself. You are usually in them, by the way -- I've admired the way you do these things for some time."
Nineh smiled. "Flatterer."
"Scarcely, Nineh. You are good at what you do. Unfortunately, it is all that you do."
Nineh took no offense. "It's all I want to do."
"You fuck very well, sister. That's the right word, isn't it? 'fucking'?"
"It's a somewhat vulgar term."
"You scream it out enough when Grey puts his organ inside you."
"Vulgarity can be exciting. More discrete observers call it 'sex' or 'making love'."
"Fucking will suffice, sister. In sixteen years with this family, I've learned to be direct when I need to be. The fact is, sister, that I want to be fucked. My hand and imagination are good as far as they go, but I want more. I want to fuck like you do."
A deep indrawn breath, and Nineh's succulent breasts rose once more. Xylara noted briefly that her nipples seemed to stiffen slightly, silhouetted even more starkly against the thin silk.
"Oh, sister," Nineh sighed. "I think that I can oblige you." Deep blue eyes met Xylara's, pinning her like a bird in the web of a crab-spider. "There are many different ways of fucking, to use the term you have so immodestly chosen. Men fuck women, men fuck men, men or women fuck large animals --"
"Women fuck other women?" Xylara said, firmly and distinctly. "Perhaps even sisters fuck sisters? Is that what you are getting to? Dearest sister?"
Nineh was impressed. "You have grown up better than I'd hoped, my sweet little sibling." She plucked a small silver bell from a nearby table and rang it, summoning a nyman servant, who shuffled in slowly, owing to the fact that he had been blinded.
"Tell Grey and Thalim their services will not be needed immediately," Nineh told the servant. "They may amuse each other as they please, but they are to remain ready should I summon them later."
"Yes, mistress," mumbled the Nyman, and shuffled out of the room, maneuvering through the furniture by memory alone.
"Now," Nineh said, discarding her scarves and sitting up, entirely naked, to face Xylara, "perhaps we can begin the first portion of your education."
Xylara sat on a velvet chaise, legs extended as Nineh crouched between them. Nineh had insisted that Xylara remove her tunic ("It's best to avoid the difficulty of undressing," she had said, pulling the garment up over Xylara's head. "That way we can get to important matters right away.")
Nineh placed her hands on either side of Xylara's shoulders, and gazed at her, their faces only inches apart. The soft curve of Nineh's breasts brushed lightly against Xylara's smaller ones, and she felt their nipples touch, and her pulse raced.
"I suppose that how to start depends upon exactly what sort of fucking you want," Nineh began. "If you're overwhelmed with passion, and just want to be taken like an animal, Irecommend against any preliminaries. On the other hand, starting slowly is probably the best way to do it overall."
"I'd like to go slow," Xylara replied. "It will make it easier to remember everything."
"Good." Nineh drew closer. "I've found kissing is a good start."
Nineh's lips touched Xylara's. They were warm and pliant, and after a moment Xylara felt her own lips open at the insistent touch of her sister's tongue. Nineh's arms enfolded her, holding her close, soft skin warm and inviting. Xylara's heart pounded faster, now, and she returned the kiss, her own tongue darting into Nineh's mouth, tasting musky moistness.
"Oh, sister," whispered Nineh. "You've waited too long..."
"Just long enough," Xylara replied, voice muffled against Nineh's lips. "I've waited just long enough."
A sparkling throb spread from Xylara's nipples, down through her belly to the warm place between her thighs, and she felt the moisture start. Her hands ran up and down Nineh's back, stroking the carefully-oiled skin, sending tremors through Nineh's body.
"I've wanted this so long," Nineh husked, pressing down on Xylara, breasts pillowed heavily against her chest, thighs opening up to slip one of Xylara's legs between them. "I wanted to show you this..."
"Show me now, sister," Xylara replied.
Nineh slid slowly down Xylara's body, long-nailed fingers lightly scoring the flesh of her shoulders and arms. She stopped at Xylara's small breasts, snow-white, topped with pink nipples growing painfully swollen and erect.
"A little play with these helps, Xylara," Nineh said, encircling one breast with her hand. "Are your nipples sensitive?"
Xylara nodded, a small moan issuing from her throat as Nineh's nails touched the engorged flesh. "Yes. I touch them when I play with myself."
"You like to touch them hard or soft?"
"Hard. Sometimes I squeeze so hard they hurt."
"I like that," Nineh said. "I love to play with nipples." She squeezed and dug in her nails, making Xylara shudder and moan, louder this time. "I'll let you play with mine later."
"Yes."
Nineh's face hovered over Xylara's breast, and her tongue flicked out to touch a nipple. "I love to bite, too."
"I've seen you," Xylara gasped. "I watched Grey biting your nipples. It made me so excited..."
Nineh's lips touched Xylara's aureole, and white teeth grazed her nipple.
"Ohhhh, Nineh. Darling... My sister..." Xylara groaned heavily. The throb between her legs grew faster and deeper. "Again. Again, please. You'll make me..."
"It's called coming, sister," Nineh whispered. "Are you going to come?"
"Keep biting me, please." Xylara felt an edge of desperation creeping into her passion, as if she would do anything for release from the pressure building inside her. Desire built, and she felt like a supplicant, or even a slave, kneeling in chains before her beautiful sister, ready to serve her in any way she desired. "I want to..."
"To come? Say you want to come."
"Oh, Nineh, I want to come. I want to..."
Nineh's teeth bit down again, as her hand massaged the other breast, nails biting the tender flesh. Then she switched back and forth, biting first one nipple, then the other.
So hot... So very hot... Please...
"Ohhhh, Nineh!" cried Xylara, bucking upward. "OH! NINEH, PLEASE...!"
Her cry trailed off into an incoherent moan, and the pressure exploded through her, again and again.
Nineh looked pleased. "Just from playing with your nipples, little sister. You will be very popular."
Xylara sighed, shocks tripping through her. "I want more, Nineh. I know there's more."
Nineh grinned broadly. "And insatiable, too. My admiration for you is growing, little girl."
With that, she crouched between Xylara's thighs, and spread them apart with her hands. She stroked the tender flesh between them.
"This has many names, as you have probably discovered," she said, blowing lightly on Xylara's thighs. "The most clinical is 'vulva,' but I've always preferred 'cunt.' It's a lovely word, isn't it?"
Xylara nodded, feeling the fever building again.
"Isn't it lovely? Say it, sister."
"Cunt," Xylara gasped. "My cunt."
"Goooood," Nineh said gently, stroking once more. She spread Xylara's cunt-lips apart, then touched an index finger to the center of her desire.
"This," she said, licking a finger and stroking, "is your clitoris. It's where all the pleasure comes from. It's what your slaves must worship and treat with the greatest love and care. It's called 'clit' for short. Say it."
"It's my clit," Xylara said, voice strained and high pitched. "You're touching my clit."
"That's not all I'm doing," Nineh whispered. "I'm going to play with your cunt and your clit at the same time."
"Will you put your fingers inside my cunt?" Xylara asked. "I've seen you doing that..."
"You learn so quickly, little sister." Nineh licked her fingers again, savoring the taste. "Oh, you don't need any more spit, do you? You've got all the juice you need... I'll explain your cunt to you, Xylara. You can put so many things in it. You can put in fingers, or tongues, or cocks -- you know what a cock is, don't you? No? Well, we'll fix that shortly -- or dildoes, or just about anything you want. They all feel so different. I'm sure you'll be wanting all sorts of things inside your cunt, won't you?"
"I already do." With tentative hands, Xylara touched her nipples, and felt her pleasure redouble. "I already want something in my cunt."
"We'll start with fingers." Nineh slipped her middle finger between Xylara's distended pink lips, feeling soft flesh give way and open for her. Xylara gasped briefly.
"Does it hurt?" Nineh asked. "I'm sorry, darling. It's only for a moment."
The pain passed shortly, as Nineh slid a second finger into Xylara's cunt, while continuing to massage her clit with her other hand. The heat built and built once more, and Xylara realized she was tumbling headlong into another orgasm, even stronger than the first.
"Oh, Nineh," she cried, feeling a tremor in her voice. "Oh, I'm going to come again!"
Instead of replying, Nineh pressed her face into Xylara's sopping cunt, a stiffened tongue rubbing her swollen clit, then cleaving the soft fleshy folds beneath. That was all Xylara needed to trigger yet another thundering orgasm. She cried out once more, thighs scissoring together, hands gripping the back of Nineh's blonde-maned head, pushing, thrusting, straining, as another wave of explosive passion raced like white-hot metal through her veins.
"Sister..." gasped Nineh, feeling the strength of Xylara's contractions, pressing against her cunt harder and harder, bringing down another wave of orgasm, then licking softly and lightly as the tremors faded away, rising up from between her sister's thighs, face slick with her cunt-juices.
"You are so beautiful, sister," she said, softly. "I've dreamed of taking you this way, but I never knew. I was so afraid you'd be sick, or die, or never know what love was like..."
"I'm here, Nineh," Xylara replied, waves of warm contentment following the waves of passion. "I wanted you."
They stayed alone together for another hour, as Nineh urged Xylara to kiss her, then play and suckle at her breasts, and then play with her cunt and clitoris. Xylara felt drowned in hot, soft flesh, and cried out in joy herself as Nineh came and came again for her, groaning deeply, and crying out how much she loved her sister. They lay together for long moments after that, limbs tangled, lips seeking out soft flesh, hands teasing and stroking.
"To see you now, as beautiful as you are," Nineh sighed. "I knew that I wanted to make love to you, and to watch you make love. I've thought of it, and I've played with myself, too. To make love to your own sister -- no one I know has ever done such a thing. Lady Thyma, Duke Xurak's daughter, fucked both of her brothers at once, but that was just to entertain her mother. Now I've had you, my beautiful little sister, and we've done something no one else has done."
And so they continued. Nineh informed her of the various ways in which a man could take a woman, then summoned herfavorite male slaves, Grey and Thalim, to demonstrate. Both were strapping, muscular specimens with no ambitions in life save pleasing their mistress (a brief life of drudgery in the mines awaited them should she ever grow tired of either), and performed tirelessly, touching Nineh's young sister with practiced fingers and tongues, and allowing her to exercise their cocks (Nineh explained the various names and functions of the male organ in detail before summoning the pair) as she chose. They took her, one after the other, under Nineh's watchful
"Put your lips around Grey's cock," Nineh said, as she sat in a large chair, watching, allowing Thalim to lick her and play with her clit. "Slide it into your mouth. You must relax your throat and let it slip all the way in. Men like women who can do that."
Dutifully, Xylara positioned herself beneath Grey and began to lick his stiff organ. Nineh had informed her that both Grey and Thalim had exceptionally large cocks -- all the better to learn on, she told Xylara -- but Xylara discovered to her own surprise, and Nineh's loudly proclaimed delight, that she had no difficulty fitting Grey's thick organ between her lips, and slowly slid it into her mouth, tickling it with her tongue, sliding it out, then letting it slide in, deeper each time. She breathed feverishly as she did so -- the thought of exciting this man so much caused her thighs and clit to throb once more. She salivated heavily, spittle bubbling from the corner of her mouth as she swallowed more and more of the slave man's cock. Finally, the entire length of his shaft was inside her, and she began to pump, slipping the organ in and out of her mouth, lips tightly gripped around it.
"Play with his balls," Nineh advised. "Squeeze them gently."
Xylara complied, tickling and squeezing Grey's testicles as he moved to her rhythm, his hot shaft thick with her saliva, moving in and out of her.
"Go fuck her, Thalim," Nineh ordered. "Put your cock in her pussy. It's best she get it all at once, I think."
Xylara could not see Thalim as he gently spread her thighs and rubbed his distended cockhead against her swollen cunt-lips, but she felt him, and another orgasm built inside her like a towering thunderhead before the afternoon downpour. She felt hot juices cascading down her thighs, lubricating Thalim's huge penis, and it excited her even more. She came within moments when Thalim thrust into her, pushing aside the soft tissue inside her cunt with persistent but gentle pressure.
"Ahh-mmmm..." Xylara's cries of passion were muffled by the great cock inside her mouth, and she sucked with redoubled enthusiasm.
"Get ready to taste him," Nineh warned. "I think Grey is going to leave you a gift."
Xylara had read of men's orgasms, but was scarcely ready for the burning gush of semen which exploded into her mouth when Grey groaned and unleashed his pent-up passions. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but much of it dribbled out of her mouth, a long sticky white stream dripping from her chin.
From her seat, Nineh applauded. "Well done, little sister. You make me proud!"
But she was not finished. Nineh showed Xylara several different positions, ordering Thalim and, after he had managed to develop a second erection, Grey, to take her in as many ways as possible. She sat across Thalim's hips and rocked, letting his cock pound into her. She sucked Thalim as Grey fucked her from behind. She let Thalim lift her up and plunge into her as he stood. She let each of the men position themselves on top of her and fuck her in turn. She even sat on hands and knees without protest as Nineh played with her asshole, lubricating it with oil, and allowed Thalim to force his still-stiff organ into her.
She came every way they fucked her. She lost count of how many orgasms she had that day, her body bucking and heaving to the rhythmic thrusting of fingers, the lapping of stiffened tongues, and the heavy pulse of erect cocks. She was in a world that she had only barely known existed, and even then had known only from books. Nineh was pleased, and repeatedly praised her. The two slave men were eventually worn out and crawled away to their quarters, leaving Xylara and her sister to lounge together on Nineh's enormous bed.
"Join me, sister," Nineh said. "We'll fuck every wayimaginable, with everyone imaginable."
Xylara nodded wordlessly. Her sister, yes. Now, her lover as well. For the time being, the great new universe of sexuality had opened up like an ancient and complex flower for Xylara, and she intended to explore every subtle facet, curve and crevice. And Nineh was her best partner in that exploration. For now, at any rate.
For the better part of a year, all went well. Nineh and Xylara made constant love to each other, and virtually every slave they could get their hands on. The other siblings, only barely aware of Xylara's existence even in the best of times, did not concern themselves with her affairs, and contented themselves with plotting and intriguing on their own.
Unfortunately for Xylara, her ambitions proved more far-reaching and complex than those of her sister. For Nineh, the pleasures of the seraglio were enough, and endless feverish couplings satisfied her. While Xylara enjoyed her adventures with her sister, she came to realize that sex alone no longer kept her occupied. Now, well into her seventeenth year, and more aware of the world around her, Xylara wanted more.
She wanted power, and she was determined to get it.
Xylara continued to read, to question, to investigate. Watching her brother Thorvaz, and in the process remaining unnoticed by him, she noted his network of informers in other families, and his intrigues to gain power for his own family. Her sister Daeshi worked closely with Thorvaz, and the two of them took more and more charge of family affairs as her father grew older and faded into dotage.
Xylara began to develop her own spies and informers. Nineh gracefully gave several of her more accomplished pleasure slavesto her sister, and Xylara learned to send these to the parties and feasts of other large families, using them to seduce information and material for extortion. Her first attempts at blackmail were crude but successful, and Xylara soon managed to obtain a substantial income, with which she purchased a small villa in the jungles north of Xesh, where she and Nineh often retired for week-long debauches. Unknown to her sister, Xylara also used the villa to meet with her new agents.
As time passed, and Xylara approached her nineteenth year, greater desires stirred inside her. With the exception of Nineh,who had no ambition beyond endless and ever-increasing sexual excess, none of the family had cared for her. All had their own goals, and none involved her. Perhaps, Xylara thought, Perhaps she could take supreme power in the family, and administer her father's estates, possibly replacing other powerful Xeshite dynasties, and taking her place at the side of the Primarch himself. Her espionage redoubled, and some of it began to be directed against her own siblings.
Though she learned quickly, and her intrigue skills were the equal of a noblewoman from any lesser land, her brother Thorvaz was no fool. He was aware of his young sister's operations, but thought little of them so long as they did not directly threaten him. But when it came to his attention that she was cataloging the names of his informers, gathering extortion material on him and Daeshi, and even approaching mercenaries with the notion of forming her own household guard, Thorvaz decided that his sister had gone too far.
He met with Daeshi on his sister's private yacht in Xesh harbor. On deck in the guttering torchlight, he sat, nursing a goblet of wine and glowering at Daeshi, who stood gazing over the moonlit water. She was clad in a pearl grey gown, with a plain silver circlet and a narrow white belt. She was painfully thin, her hair a tracery of frosty blue-white, her eyes an intense violet-blue. She always spoke softly, and rarely showed anger.
"It seems," Thorvaz said, running a finger around the rim of his goblet, "that our sickly little sister has come into her own."
"You mean Xylara?" Daeshi asked. "She's certainly come into Nineh enough times. Are you saying that the little cripple actually has higher ambitions?"
Thorvaz nodded. "She has obtained a list of all my agents, and I think she means to subvert them, use them against me. She also seems interested in learning the layout of your private estate, and whether you have any lovers or not."
Daeshi's calm exterior did not waver. "Not even you know that, brother. A woman must have some secrets."
"So must a man," Thorvaz replied, "and I mean to keep mine. The little fool seems to think that she can replace us as father's heir. She needs to be taught a lesson."
"I agree. This family can't afford her foolishness. What do you propose? Should we dispose of her?"
Thorvaz shook his head emphatically. "No. We can't start that tradition. The Askaly managed to kill themselves off with internecine feuds. I just want her left in a position where she can't threaten us. Or perhaps in a position where father will be forced to deal with her. Having father dispose of a treacherous youngster is far less dangerous than us doing it ourselves."
"Of course, brother. I think I can arrange a suitable incident."
Thorvaz's curiosity was aroused. "What do you have in mind, Daeshi?"
"Hm. Perhaps I should let it be a surprise. Suffice to say, a certain young man from a certain family owes me a favor. I suspect that he will have no objection when I tell him exactly what the favor is."
"I look forward to seeing your plan unfold, sister. It's a pleasure to watch you work."
"You flatter me brother." Daeshi glided toward him like a ghost, and picked up a silver pitcher. "More wine?"
The annual Primarch's Fete was the crowning moment of the Xeshite social season. All major families were invited, and turned up in their best finery. Dancing, feasting, music, games, and many entertainments went on from sunset of the first day until sunrise of the second. Alliances were made and broken, love affairs begun and ended, trysts consummated, and the usual debaucheries were the engaged in with even more enthusiasm than usual. Virtually no excess was too great, and each Primarch's Fete was greater and more elaborate than the last.
Xylara, being the daughter of one of Xesh's greatest heroes and most prominent nobles, had attended fetes since she was seventeen. At the previous year's festivities, she and Nineh had managed to seduce over sixty men and women between them, a feat made possible by taking on as many as four at a time. Nineh had been less than discriminating, and the two of them had been exhausted for a week. This year, however, Xylara was more intent on making contact with those who would help her in her quest for power and influence.
For the first few hours, Xylara was lost in admiration of the glittering crowds of overdressed nobles, their legions of slaves, elaborate coaches, wild hairstyles and cosmetics. She danced for a time, with a variety of foppish noblemen, all of whom were either too old or too uninteresting to warrant her attention. It was just after midnight that all her elaborate plans for making contact and building her network of informers came to an abrupt halt.
He was tall, muscular, firm-jawed, with long blonde hair and a stern gaze, which fixated her from the moment she saw him. He was dressed in a dark grey waistcoat and black breeches with shiny black leather riding boots.
"Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asked. "I'm Parval Syxari."
Xylara took a gloved hand, mumbling her name, and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor, where they spun and swayed through elaborate court dances, her mind struggling to comprehend what was happening to her.
The Syxari were a rival house. Part of Xylara's mind knew that her father would be furious to even see her dancing with the man, but most of her heart and mind was caught up in an emotional whirlwind, transfixed by Parval's deep blue-black eyes, hypnotized by his deep voice as he whispered endearments to her, telling of how he had seen her the year before, and had spent the intervening months wondering how to approach her. Later, when they were alone on a high balcony, he went so far as to drop smoothly to his knees and confess a deep and unrequited love for her, and ask that she at least favor him with a kiss. That, he said sadly, was all he could possibly hope for.
Despite her years of excess and sexual experiment with her sister and their slaves, Xylara had never known the kind of love which Parval offered. She had read of it, true enough, buthad always imagined that such affection and devotion existed only in books. Now, here, alone beneath the stars and the swollen wordsŒshe thought she would never hear.
Of course, she was lost. Parval was a handsome man, and far more experienced than Xylara imagined. Though she had had accelerated training in the labyrinthine paths of Xeshite society, much of her remained a naive girl, with little practical experience. As she and Parval wandered the halls of the Primarch's palace, walked in the gardens, sat beside fountains and among statuary, and Parval whispered ever-sweeter endearments to her, Xylara grew thoroughly infatuated, and by the time the fete had ended, she had made an appointment to see Parval at her private jungle villa.
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The Orakel