Transgressions

by E G Manetti

  Unconsciously licking her lips at milord’s heated gaze and arousing form, Lilian slowly pulls her blouse free of her skirt. She deftly releases the three fasteners, careful to flash glimpses of her torso with each movement. Parting the silk, Lilian gracefully skims it down her arms before dropping it to the floor. The slide of the silk awakens her skin, the motion allowing her to arch her back and display her breasts in the cerulean-blue lace that hints at deep-rose tips.

  Lilian is rewarded with milord’s sharply indrawn breath and the tightening of his lips that denotes increasing desire. Lilian’s desire rises in response, the soft lace of her bra suddenly rough against her nipples.

  With a little sway of her hips, Lilian releases her skirt fastener, and the black cloth drops silently to the floor. She knows milord delights in the contrast of the sheer cerulean lace against the red-gold curls at the apex of her thighs. Languid heat unfurls along her spine as Lilian steps between milord’s outstretched legs, leaving her shoes behind. Milord’s fists clench against the sofa back, calling an answering spasm deep within Lilian.

  With practiced grace, Lilian slides her bra straps from her shoulders, milord’s eyes following every move, his gaze as tangible as the lace moving against her skin. Lilian’s sex clenches in anticipation of milord’s touch. Slow. She must not hasten. Milord prefers it so, and Lilian has learned how anticipation can enhance pleasure.

  Releasing the fastener, Lilian drags the lace across her nipples, the tips tightening pleasurably, and then drops the bra to the floor.

  Milord’s eyes are riveted to her breasts, his lips slightly parted. The bulge in his trousers moves and swells. Lilian shifts on her toes at the answering ache in her jewel.

  Milord’s lips close and curl into a small smile as he reaches out and grasps Lilian’s hips. “Clasp your hands behind your neck.”

  The position arches Lilian breasts forward, and she is rewarded by milord’s tongue tracing one delicate tip until it is a tight point and then sucking it firmly. At the exquisite sensations, Lilian’s jewel swells, and she moans slightly as she sways toward milord. Milord releases her aching breast with a guttural sound of satisfaction and then similarly assaults the other until both breasts are hard, swollen, and throbbing delightfully. Milord’s hands gather the cerulean lace concealing Lilian’s core and drag it lightly between her legs, teasing her swelling flesh and inflaming the tight bud of her passion.

  Senses alight with desire, Lilian whimpers slightly as she arches toward milord. Wanting more, needing more.

  Milord lightly bites down on a hard nipple, bringing a gasp from Lilian and a rush of liquid between her legs. Continuing to torment the tender tips of her breasts, milord drags the silk lace down her thighs and below her knees, sending it to the floor with a light push. Lilian is nude.

  “Spread your legs,” milord murmurs as his mouth abandons her breasts to trail kisses across her torso. The sound of trouser fasteners draws Lilian’s attention to that promising bulge below milord’s waist.

  Dark, hard, and long, milord’s sex rises. Lilian wishes to touch, to taste. With another whimper of desire, Lilian maintains her clasped hands as she carefully steps free of the discarded panties and widens her stance, eager for what is to come. Milord’s chuckle stirs the triangle of soft curls that guards her sex, sending his heated breath against the nub of flesh emerging eagerly from her folds. Milord blows lightly, the taunting touch setting her sex pulsing.

  “Milord,” Lilian moans.

  Milord’s hands grasp Lilian’s thighs, his thumbs part her sex. His tongue deliberately sweeps across her jewel, sending desire spiraling as her body tightens and her cleft floods. The scrape of milord’s teeth replaces milord’s tongue, and Lilian’s legs quiver. Her channel pulses in desperate need to be filled, and her knees weaken as the erotic contact robs her of control.

  “Now, Lilian, mount me now.” Milord’s grip shifts to her hips, and he pulls her forward across his lap.

  Yes. Lilian eagerly finds her position, lightly pressing on the hot satin head of milord’s shaft. Milord’s hands tighten on Lilian’s hips as she drops, impaling herself on milord. Her sex spasms with pleasure. Milord’s mouth descends in a plundering kiss that sends Lilian’s aroused senses swimming.

  Milord releases Lilian’s mouth and shifts his hips, inciting Lilian to movement. Lifting off milord, Lilian drops again. It is not enough. Lilian rises and falls, eagerly clenching around milord, wild to find the pace, the friction that will bring her release.

  Milord grasps her wrists, pulling her hands forward to rest on his shoulders. Bracing against milord’s shoulders, Lilian shifts and gyrates until she finds exactly the right position, the necessary rhythm. One of milord’s hands finds the back of her neck, encouraging her as his hips lift, thrusting to meet her descent, leading them both in a dance of passion. Winding them tighter, sending them higher. Milord sends his free hand to Lilian’s sex. His fingers pinch and roll her inflamed jewel until she ignites and explodes, crying out for milord as the universe shimmers around her and milord pulses deep inside her.

  »◊«

  Leaving her skirt and blouse to steam free of wrinkles in the freshening closet, Lilian returns to milord clad in naught but the cerulean briefs. At milord’s smile and outstretched hand, Lilian happily returns to the scarlet couch and sprawls against milord. Milord lightly strokes Lilian’s back as she rests her head on milord’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of milord’s chest against her bare torso, the strong columns of his trouser-clad legs intertwined with hers.

  There is a slightly astringent odor to Lilian’s hair that is at odds with the mild citrusy scent she favors. Lucius has no difficulty identifying it as residue from the refinery trip.

  The pleasant stroking of her back has ceased, and milord is playing with her hair.

  Five Warriors take it.

  “It has been washed thrice, milord,” Lilian offers in a small voice.

  “It will be thrice more before you are rid of the scent,” Lucius replies from experience. Sated and relaxed, he is set to spend a few minutes enjoying casual discourse and the pleasant weight of the young woman wantonly sprawled in his embrace. “The mine grit feels worse, but it is easier to remove than the refinery scent. Between the miasma and the grime, was it not the dirtiest you have ever been?”

  “Truly, milord, I was pleased to bathe afterwards. I do not regret the experience, but I would not wish the life of a miner or a refiner.” She has answered the question honestly, if not precisely. Will milord notice?

  “I agree, but I notice you have not answered my question.” Lucius ceases to stroke Lilian’s back, her evasion as obvious as her sudden tension.

  Do not make me ask again. Milord does not voice it. The cessation of his caress is command enough. Honor is my blade and shield. “I beg pardon, milord. I did not answer, milord. I prefer not to remember.”

  Honor does not know fear. Pulling a deep breath, Lilian braces herself, “Incarceration both feels dirtier and has a worse scent.”

  Demon shit. Lucius only meant to tease. Lilian is holding herself so still she is barely breathing. He does not need to ask when she was incarcerated.

  When Remus Gariten was taken for a protocol review on Socraide Prime, Lilian was indicted. It is standard practice among the elite to begin grooming their heirs for a place in commerce at age sixteen, after they pass the age of consent. At the age of majority, twenty years, small endeavors are given over to them. It was expected that Gariten’s elder daughter, within a few sevendays of her twenty-fourth year, was fully engaged in his evildoings.

  Within a period of completing her final scholar trials, Lilian was arrested and transported to Socraide Prime. For a sevenday, she was incarcerated while enduring her protocol review, her only outside contact with her advocate, Dean Joseph, the Preeminence of Mulan’s Temple.

  During Lilian’s protocol review, Dean Joseph used cleverness, education, and his extensive influence to provide Lilian’s lack of Criminal Guilt. The
re was naught he could do to avoid a conviction of Guilt by Blood. Dean Joseph was aided by Lucius Mercio, who was also determined to spare her the Final Draught. Lilian did not discover until she was released that Sinead’s Lord Prelate also threw his influence behind her cause.

  Lilian remains ignorant, as does Lucius, that the Holy Mother of the Universal Order would have thrown in her support as well but was discouraged by Dean Joseph. The dean’s reading of the protocol judges indicated Universalist support would do more harm than good. In the end, Dean Joseph succeeded. Without a conviction of ‘Criminal Guilt,’ Dean Joseph and Lucius were able to get Lilian’s sentence reduced from annihilation to Trial by Ordeal.

  It is not a topic they have ever discussed. At the start of her bond, Lucius was far more concerned with helping Lilian adapt to her circumstances than probing what would be traumatic memories. Since then, events have moved so rapidly that her protocol review lost importance. Lucius briefly considers abandoning his curiosity, but in the end, he cannot. He has waited sevendays for another opportunity to explore the enigma of his apprentice. The memories are already surfaced. Without haste, Lucius resumes stroking Lilian’s back, gently prompting, “I would know.”

  Milord’s command is soft. The embracing hands continue stroking Lilian’s shoulders and back.

  Honor acts as duty commands. “The incarceration facilities on Socraide Prime adhere to the letter of protocol. The temperature is a reliable seventy-three degrees Fahrenheit. The freshening facilities are minimal, but immaculate, as is the bedding. There is not a speck of dirt or rust anywhere.”

  I will not fail. I will not fall. It does not help. Lilian cannot control the shudder that racks her as the dark memories rise. Milord’s arms and legs tighten, holding her securely.

  Unconsciously pressing closer to milord, Lilian continues, “The scent is distinctive. Cold-riveted metal washed in antiseptics. The bedding is synthetic and equally antiseptic. There is a dull, sour smell to the personal cleansing products, which leave as much residue as they remove. Under it all is another scent, soaked into the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. It is the smell of anger, hate, fear, despair, and pain. Those smells coat the tongue and soak into the skin and hair and will not be washed away.”

  Lilian gasps lightly, mouth open in a bid to dispel the remembered scent and taste. One of milord’s hands rubs her back, encouraging her. Sensory memory retreats at milord’s will, and Lilian is able to continue, “One looks forward all day to the ten minutes in hot water. One is warm, and for a few precious moments, there is only the clean smell of the water. That is the dirtiest I have ever been and the worst scent I have ever experienced.”

  Lilian takes several long breaths as she waits for milord to speak. Although she no longer shudders, the foul memory of incarceration is barely suppressed.

  “Are you well?” milord asks softly.

  “Yes, milord.” I will not be sick on milord. Refusing to succumb to the ill memories, Lilian breathes deeply of milord’s familiar scent, sex and male and the tang of the sea.

  The arms holding her squeeze a bit. “I reviewed the transcripts. You did well in the protocol review.”

  ‘Protocol review’ is a civilized term for the days of uncivilized, hostile, and humiliating interrogation. Lilian’s stomach roils, challenging her commitment to contain it. Briefly, Lilian buries her face in milord’s neck, milord’s scent. Once in control, Lilian says, “My thanks, milord. After the second day, it was all the same. The judges had no evidence, and I had no answers. I have often thought that the fourth through sixth days were strictly for appearances.”

  And bribes. The thought is unspoken. Lucius knows Lilian dare not criticize the judges, and they both know that the panel prolonged the proceedings to ensure that Lilian’s friends demonstrated a material commitment to justice. Through Dean Joseph, one of the judges had a lackluster offspring assured of a place in Mulan’s Temple he would not otherwise warrant. Another has a place as a Serengeti protégé she has not earned.

  Dismissing the bribes, Lucius’ thoughts turn to what he knows of his apprentice, fitting this newest set of revelations into the whole, while he continues to gently stroke Lilian’s tense form. Lucius knows that Lilian’s only visit to Socraide Prime was for her protocol review. It was followed two days later by Gariten’s execution and Lilian’s return to Metricelli Prime. Yet somehow she found her former lover, Damien St. Gervais, and asked him for aid.

  Instead of providing aid, Damien betrayed Lilian and then betrayed her again last year when he attempted to implicate Lilian in an affair that could have resulted in the termination of her bond and her execution. With Lucius’ support, Lilian brought about Damien’s downfall, and he was banished to the Eleventh System and a menial position in the Matahorn supply depots. Curiosity wars with concern. Will mention of Damien further distress Lilian? She seemed content enough when Lucius placed a ruby on the gold warbelt to honor her victory over Damien. “How did you manage to visit Damien St. Gervais?”

  Lilian shifts slightly in response to his question. To Lucius’ relief, her voice is steady. “Once the sentencing agreement was sealed, my rights to communication and movement were restored. I could leave and return to the facility as I wished. There was a two-day wait for Maman and Katleen to arrive from Sinead’s World before Gariten’s execution. I went to Damien then.”

  Shadeless scum! When Damien St. Gervais misled Lilian and betrayed her on Socraide Prime, he did so knowing that she had come from a cell and would return to it. She’d had no other place to go. “Are you certain you do not wish him dead?”

  “Yes, milord. Banishment to the Eleventh System supply depots is sufficient. I understand that the supply depot’s construction is heavily dependent upon sheet metal.” The grim pleasure in Lilian’s voice coincides with her slow relaxation.

  16. Dark Acts

  By the third century of Anarchy, massive tracks of land within the Second System were uninhabitable and a third of the water supply fouled. Escalating strife drove the desperate populace into walled enclaves dominated by militia clans that rationed everything required to sustain life. Enslavement was often the price of entrance. Those favored by the clans fared well, while others barely survived. Penalties for defiance were severe and inconsistent.

  Little is known of Rimon Ben Claude before he began the conquest of his neighbors. Due to his harsh but consistent protocols, any newly acquired territory was quickly subdued. Within a few years, enclaves fell with little or no resistance as few chose to defend the clans. Even marauders readily accepted slavery when it came with rights to food, shelter, and correction limited by protocol. Rimon would not arm those who were once adversaries. Slaves who killed for any reason were executed. Those who proved their loyalty were eventually freed.

  Moderated by the influence of the other Four Warriors, many of the Second’s protocols were incorporated into the Twelve Systems’ Governing Protocols. The origins of the modern apprentice contract have been traced to Rimon’s slave bonds. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 70, Day 4

  Slow to appear, the rains have arrived with a vengeance. In defiance of seasonal expectations, the prior evening’s rain did not cease after a few periods but has continued to drum on the courtyard through the arrival of dawn. Katleen’s ancient house was designed with the expectation of servants to operate the controls in response to the storms. The technology to automate the old-fashioned system is well beyond Lilian’s means. Once in place, the covers are not retracted until the rainy season ends, leaving the courtyard and house in perpetual twilight.

  Putting up her training short sword, her breathing only slightly ragged, Lilian regards her mother with satisfaction. Lilian has completed the bout without being disarmed or significantly bruised. She has not disarmed or bruised Helena, but Helena is a master of Sinead’s Discipline, and the short sword is her weapon. “What think you, Maman, have I improved, or are you distracted?”


  With a rare smile and a rarer chuckle, Helena responds, “You do well enough, Daughter. We will return to short sword against thorn except for one day of five. How do you with the long sword?”

  Lilian shrugs. “I managed fifteen minutes yesterday before Seigneur Trevelyan disarmed me. I have improved from the bare three minutes achieved in my first bout at the beginning of the dry season.”

  “Good. Good. Long and short. Thorn and fire. All are required. All serve,” Helena singsongs.

  Placing her training gear in the battered arms cabinet carefully restored by Katleen, Lilian barely attends. The recording device milord granted Lilian to aid in her Cartel tasks is active in her satchel. Lilian no longer dismisses her mother’s prophecies, although they are mostly useless ramblings. Along with the visuals of the vision panels, they will be reviewed and cataloged as time permits.

  Putting up her short sword, Helena adds, “Know you that the guard is dead?”

  “I beg pardon, Maman. Did you voice the guard is dead?” Guards and guardians are a common theme in Maman’s ramblings. It will be difficult to find the appropriate references in her recordings without more information. “Which guard, Maman?”

  “The guard who knew not his duty, the one charged with the blue liquid,” Helena replies, the singsong absent.

  Blue liquid? It can only be the despicable corporal from Gariten’s execution. “That Servant of Anarchy is dead? How know you this?”

  Raising her eyebrows, Helena responds, “The media, child.”

  Shutting the weapons cabinet door with a snap, Lilian flies to the dry central fountain where her slate rests in its satchel. Quickly she scrolls through recent media reports until she finds what she seeks. The abusive militia corporal from Gariten’s Final Draught was found dead in the Indulgence sector of Omsted City on Socraide Prime. The badly beaten and lacerated body held evidence of decadents use and was found in an alley where it may have been dumped from a nearby building. The militia is seeking anyone with information.