by Anya Howard
Gillian did obey, and after the morning meal, the Master told Esther that she was to be given a break from the morning workout. So instead of waiting to take her turn inside the exercise wheel, she was at liberty to reacquaint herself with her budding friendship with Lil, Holly, and Summer.
They were all kind enough not to ask about her time in the Disciplinary, nor mention the fact that she, of all the harem girls, had been allowed nothing to wear that day. From time to time Gillian’s eyes wandered over to the wall where those serving their time in the spectacle portals kneeled. The line of pink backsides brought heated, mingled emotions, so lenient did this humiliating punishment seem compared to the Disciplinary.
She remembered the gag she’d worn and a part of her seemed lost without the leather bit glutting her mouth.
Once, she saw Esther order two girls, a tall redhead and an ample-breasted blonde, to go up and heighten the punishment of those kneeling. With deft hands they stroked the reared, exposed pussies, until the hips of the punished wriggled and writhed, and their hands clawed at their captured necks. Their tormenters slapped their swaying breasts and pinched their nipples. Esther brought them a long, thick dildo of leather. The pair took turns using it to spank the nether mouths they had excited, until the wet slapping sounds made them rock with laughter. And then, to Gillian’s alarm, the redhead pressed the dildo into the anus of one of the punished. As she worked the leather back and forth in her victim’s orifice, the blonde massaged the punished one’s breasts. Gillian stared at the three, and she saw the slick juices that trickled down the thighs of the punished girl. Her body was suffused all over and gilded brightly with her own sweat.
“Do not feel sorry for her,” Lil said. “Jeya has been nursing a snappy mood for days now. The portal will cure her tart tongue!”
Jeya? Gillian had not recognized her face down the hall. Of course, their faces had all been so red and wet with tears. Gillian could guess the cause for her mood…and wondered now how Abraham fared, and if ever he would have the chance to have Jeya for himself. She sensed now that indeed her suspicion had been right and that Jeya returned his love. Contemplating this, Gillian’s resentment for what she had been robbed of returned in force.
She didn’t know that she wept until Lil drew her aside from the others and offered her a cloth for her tears.
“You need to stop grieving for this man,” Lil whispered, “it will never gain you the trust of our king.”
Gillian was surprised, and asked with a sniff, “How do you know what’s on my mind?”
“It’s as clear as your eyes. You must be happy, Gillian…most of us are.” Lil’s voice took a cheery lilt, “You should know that the king can be most generous. And oh, think on how handsome he is. Surely you didn’t forget this while you were away?”
Gillian shook her head. She confided very quietly, “I don’t care, Lil. I love another!”
Lil frowned and rubbed her shoulder. “Ah, but you can love our king as well. He will be a master most affectionate if you let him.”
“I have a master,” Gillian said despondently. “Can’t you understand that? I have a master, and he is the only one I will ever love! The king stole away that which I treasure more than anything. He severed me from the other half of my very soul!”
The uncertain expression on the girl’s face was telling. Gillian squeezed her eyes against the next stinging tear and said, “You’ve never loved anyone besides your Dhjinn Master, have you?”
“No.” Lil kissed her cheek. “Oh, Gillian! I hope you will come to know love with your Master. But if you can’t, at least, I wish you pleasure.”
Gillian couldn’t help but smile a little.
After the harem had all taken their customary afternoon naps, the Master escorted Gillian to the bathing pool. He had brought along a basket of bath supplies and towels, and told her that she was to clean herself.
“Without abusing the privilege, of course,” he added with a hard smile.
Inside the cozy cavern with its gem-encrusted walls the pool beckoned to Gillian. All she desired was to wash away the sweat of the Disciplinary. Hidden light imparted a tranquil blue shade to the water, one that Gillian hoped would help give her a little peace from the acute and lingering passion the guards had provoked during her incarceration.
The Master set down the basket and towels and asked, “Now, how do you prefer the temperature of your water?”
“Very warm when possible, Master.”
He knelt down by the poolside and stretched an arm over the water. His forefinger touched the surface, making a soft indentation. She heard him utter some unfamiliar words.
“There,” he said, rising. “I will be back in a short while. I must order the Dame of Wardrobe to bring something very special for you to wear tonight.”
Gillian felt a twinge of new dread, and asked quickly, “May I have permission to speak?”
He gave her a smile that so thoroughly softened his features that for a second he looked human to her. “I know already—you wish to know the meaning of the occasion?”
“Yes.”
“A banquet our king has ordered in honor of Queen Marianne’s departure tonight. Are you acquainted with the good queen?”
“Yes.” Gillian felt a blush creep into her cheeks.
“As I hear it, it was for this alone that your release from the Disciplinary was ordered. So be sure, pretty Gillian, to act with utmost grace tonight. This is your opportunity to impress the king’s more simple-minded brothers—to show them all that you are indeed worth the possible danger he’s put us all in by taking you from Nemi.”
Gillian was startled by the words. She’d almost forgotten about the Ur’theriems. She wondered suddenly why they had not yet come to challenge the king and demand her back. The Ur’theriems were supposed to defend against those who would steal Nemian women. Why had they not come?
And as she looked at the Master’s face, she wondered, too, about what he’d just revealed to her.
“Do you not resent me, Master?”
He looked at her, and his countenance was sublime tranquillity. “Why would I? In our world—our realm, our element, as you might say—passion is the foundation of existence. Our king’s passion for you is a hallowed thing. I respect him for this, unlike many of our kindred who have transcended the planes of our primary existence. Their limited mindsets refuse to appreciate that which was, is, in all planes and times.”
Gillian frowned and thought on this. True, she thought, and yet I am afraid of those others, the freed kin. And where, oh where, are the Ur’theriems?
Yet, she was torn by a sudden vision of violence and death.
“However,” she heard the Master say quietly, as if he were thinking aloud, “he himself is limited by other ingrained beliefs.”
She didn’t know at all what he meant by this. And she was overwhelmed suddenly with guilt. “I am a danger to you all. It would be better if I were to die!”
He lifted a stern brow as he regarded her. “Why should you wish such a thing? There is no real death, Gillian, only the illusion of mortality. As a Disciple of Pleasure, I’d think you had learned that by now.” His countenance softened and he patted her chin affectionately. “You are a component of the Eternal Ones. Your fantasies, those things to which you are drawn, are integral parts of their reality. Whatever your most secret desires, they will manifest, if you only know they will. So enjoy the saga, Gillian—enjoy being. We are as the Eternal Ones wish us all to be. It is when we reject that wish that we divorce ourselves from Them and wed the Great Lie, which is death and its deceits”
Gillian hoped he was right. She was sore with yearning for Bruce and a shadow of guilt still weighed on her.
He gave her a startling swat on the buttocks. “Now, get into that water and bathe. I may be only a retained priest and part-time Master of the harem, but I can be a disciplinarian when the need arises. Now relax and get clean, and forget all those pointless feelings of guilt.”
&
nbsp; He gestured for her to sit on the poolside, and watched as her legs slid down into the water. It was almost hot, but wonderfully relaxing, and she let her knees give way until her body was submerged to her shoulders.
“You like?”
At her nod he waved a cautioning finger and said with a faint smile, “Just don’t forget, I am much more attentive than my predecessor!”
The Dame of Wardrobe was waiting at Gillian’s bed when the Master returned her to the sleeping quarters. Another female Dhjinn E’noch was there. With a shower of gold hair that splayed in thick curls about her shoulders, she was not, Gillian thought, as beautiful as the Mistress. She was dressed in a simple wool gown of deep green and black slippers, and her skin was a shade of mottled gray. Unlike the king, his sister, and the Master, the outline of her scales were quite vivid. As far as Dhjinns looked, Gillian thought, this Dame was rather plain.
Yet she greeted Gillian with a warm smile that brought an attractive liveliness to her chiseled features.
Her voice was a hiss of buoyant mist. “I have brought you the most perfect ensemble, little Disciple.”
The Master spoke behind them, “I will go see if the Mistress has arrived.”
The Dame gave him a sidelong glance. “Ooh, a confrontation? And I’ll miss it!”
To Gillian’s surprise the Master laughed. “I’ll have to disappoint you this time,” he said and patted the Dame’s shoulder. “However, as I have our Mistress to thank for taking me from my rightful station and putting me in charge here, I shall make it clear that I will brook no interference.”
The Dame shrugged. “Ah, but she has been a good, strict Mistress. No doubt she’s instilled into this young lady a little more appreciation for rules of conduct.”
Gillian glowed with humiliation. Did everyone know of her one indiscretion?
The Master nodded. “I cannot fault her there, no. But I had no desire to oversee the females, no matter how lovely they are. And she knew this. It is only her way to get even.”
“It is only that you wounded her pride,” remarked the Dame. “After all, he was her slave, you know…”
Gillian was intrigued by the pair’s discussion and saw a blush of yellow imbue the Master’s features. A glint of the distinctive Dhjinn hardness shone in his eyes.
“Yes,” he sighed, “But if I find my suspicions are correct, and he wishes to be mine…then I will find the way to convince the king to grant me this.”
The Dame idly played with Gillian’s hair as she said, “I’d be careful with whom you speak of this, my dear. Most especially your regard for the youth’s own desires. They will think you have grown too human! It might be better to simply take him hostage. Such an action would appeal to the king’s empathy, and more likely gain his forgiveness.”
“Perhaps so,” he replied. And he went away then and left Gillian alone with the Dame.
The Dame pinched her cheeks giddily and patted the edge of the bed.
“Sit,” she said, “and I will have you soon looking as exquisite as Queen Marianne!”
First, the Dame brushed out her hair until it was full and wild and sprinkled it with gold dust. Then Gillian’s skin was oiled, and lightly dusted, too, so that she shimmered from head to toe. The ensemble was a lovely variation of the customary harem outfit: the usual ornamental pantaloons and billowy sleeves had been made of ruffled black gauze, the ruffles edged with gold cloth. There was a breastplate of polished black metal, and the scalloped half-cups were of gold. The Dame then painted her nipples a shade of deep coral rouge, as well as her lips and the intimate folds of her sex. And for her thighs she provided cuffs of strung black pearls, attached to one another by a very short shackle of entwined black iron and gold. The last item of the outfit was a wide choker of black velvet edged with gold lace.
When the Dame was finished dressing her, she stood up and told Gillian to get to her own hands and knees.
“I am sorry. I know you are new to this,” the Dame said.
Gillian got down as commanded, and saw the Dame take something long and shimmering from the mattress. It looked like a leash, with a black velvet holding loop at one end. The Dame bent over and showed her the other end: a very slender, long dildo set upon a golden knob about the size and width of a quarter.
“Once this is in I will turn the knob so it can’t slip out,” the Dame said. “This won’t hurt, but it will make you uncomfortable until you are used to it. Now, look straight ahead, and do not squirm, or I’ll have get the Master to assist me.”
Uneasy, Gillian nonetheless looked straight ahead. The Dame’s warm fingers touched her buttocks, and lightly tapped her anus. Before Gillian knew what had happened, the dildo slid into her anus to the knob hilt. Gillian felt her body shudder with the unexpected intrusion, and then she felt the Dame turn the knob. At once something ballooned inside her tightest orifice.
“Oh!” she cried.
The Dame patted her backside. “All over with,” she said soothingly. “It is snug in place, and will remain expanded for a couple of hours, perhaps three. I know it feels much larger than it really is. The exterior is mildly medicated, but it will not dull your other physical desires.”
Gillian blushed as she’d never blushed before. She bowed her head, so that her hair veiled her face. She knew not how she could ever look at anyone with the slender dildo inserted in this undignified way and for so long. And then she felt the Dame move about behind her, and the next moment she parted Gillian’s thighs as far as the pearl cuffs allowed. Gently, she felt about Gillian’s pussy, and captured her clit between the fingers of her hand, applying some oily concoction. Ripe with a heady perfume it was, and it wasn’t until the Dame removed her hands that Gillian was aware of warmth brewing over her clit. Quickly, her clit was pulsating with heat. The organ swelled, and her thighs and sex were acutely aroused. Her nether lips grew slick and her pelvis wanted to undulate. And when the Dame tapped the golden knob, Gillian’s whole body was overcome with raw desire.
“She looks ready.”
Gillian’s face lifted miserably in response to the Mistress’s voice. She was a towering statue at the entranceway, her implacable face cold and lovely. She wore a long black silk jacket with a high neckline, and underpants of black silk. She carried a long-handled crop of pure black leather. Part of Gillian wanted to scramble under the bed, to find shelter and hide her humbled dignity. But as the Dame handed the leash over to the Mistress, another part of Gillian softened with a desire more potent than even the aphrodisiac oil.
The Mistress lifted the leash a little so that the dildo moved languidly inside Gillian. The Mistress laid the end of her crop to Gillian’s thigh, so that the tip caressed her shimmering skin.
“You’ve done well, Dame. One wouldn’t know that she was just returned this morn from the Disciplinary.”
She moved the crop so that the tip invaded Gillian’s thighs and tickled her sex, prodded the opening of her damp private lips. Gillian whimpered softly, and the Mistress told her to lift her face.
“Don’t try to hide under that hair,” the Mistress scolded, and with her fingers, combed the veiling tresses from Gillian’s face. “Yes, I am sure my brother will be pleased. You will kneel beside him at the banquet, and do not forget that you are his treasured prize. As such, it is proper that you show him the most earnest devotion and deference. Now rise and come along, Gillian. The hour grows late.”
16
It was to another passageway unfamiliar to Gillian that the Mistress directed her. The path rose steeply for some time, and steadily grew wider until they reached a vast chamber with a tiled floor. Monumental pillars—as wide and tall as redwood trees—stood about everywhere between the floor and a domed ceiling far above their heads. Garlands of wide cloth wound about the pillars, which were strung with fiery little bulbs that much resembled Christmas tree ornaments. Their footfalls echoed ominously as the Mistress continued.
At length Gillian spotted a wall ahead, with a granite stairway. Two
men stood at the top of it, one to either side, before a great curtain that hung from a marble arcade. At least twenty feet long and forty feet wide and overlaid with tiny mirrors of intricate designs, the velvety maroon curtain swept the landing of the stairway. Gillian couldn’t take her eyes off it as the Mistress headed her up the stairway. The men flanking this wore only silver pantaloons and slippers, but otherwise they were the most fearsome men Gillian had ever encountered: they were at least seven feet tall, and their every muscle seemed to ripple. Each man bore a sword in a fine scabbard upon his back. And beyond the curtain and the fierce guards Gillian heard the sound of cymbals and pipes and laughter.
The guards did not move or flinch as the Mistress and Gillian approached, though Gillian had no doubt the men certainly saw them. Her legs weakened as they approached the men. The Mistress was right on her heels and, cupping Gillian’s shoulders, directed her to one side of the curtain and then pushed her through.
Gillian’s heart skipped a beat as she passed between the wall and the cloth…and the scene she entered upon made her cry out with astonishment.
It was a huge semicirclular deck they had come to, as large as a ballroom, with a clear dome rising up from the stone casing. For the first time in weeks Gillian’s eyes looked upon light, real light. Sunlight was just sinking behind orange clouds in the distance beyond the deck, and stars peeked through a pinkish indigo haze above her head. She was so pleasantly surprised she could not move. There were others on the deck—couples sitting cross-legged on cushions around low tables set about the mosaic tile floor; several freed kin, as she supposed them to be, standing about talking over glasses of drink. A band of musicians sat to the eastern side. A dozen or so dancing girls draped in ribbons of amber and lavender swirled about in sensual movement to their melody. But all of it seemed a galaxy away as Gillian gazed at the heavenly spectacle. She even forgot the dildo hidden snug inside her.