“But how else could you help me? Other than…than penetrating me?” Lizabeth honestly couldn’t believe she was saying this. It seemed like the need inside her drove her to it. The deep, aching emptiness that felt like a black hole had opened inside her body and was demanding to be filled.
“That’s not to say the penetration has to be done with my shaft,” Lone pointed out. “In fact, if it would make you feel better, I will swear to you here and now that I will not enter you with my shaft—no matter how badly you seem to need it—unless you ask me to. I’ll find another way to do what has to be done.”
“You…” Lizabeth bit her lip, a mixture of disappointment and relief flooding her. “You’d promise me that?”
“I’ll do more than promise—I’ll swear it.” Lone came over to her. Taking her hands in his, he looked down at her earnestly. “I swear to you now, on my honor as a warrior, that my shaft shall not enter you in any way unless you ask for it, Mistress,” he said softly. “That is my oath from me to you. If I break it, may the Goddess strike me dead.”
Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. His big hands were cupped around hers and his big body was so close she could smell the warm, spicy scent of his skin. Or was that his bonding scent? She had wondered once before if he could even make a bonding scent, being a Twin Kindred without a twin. But it seemed almost as though he had both halves inside him—the Dark Twin and the Light. Would it be possible for Lone to bond with a female after all? To bond with…her?
She pushed the idea away. That was crazy talk—a ridiculous idea. As if someone his age would want to bond with someone her age. He claimed to have fantasized about her but doubtless it was just a youthful infatuation. Just as it had proved to be with Arturo…
Inwardly she winced and shied away from the memory.
“We should get ready,” she said, pulling away from Lone and wrapping her arms around herself. “I…I need to see if there’s any way I can get some new clothes. These are ruined.” She looked down at the damp cape-vest and the white gown, stained with amber streaks. “There’s no way I can go out in them.”
“I’ll get you some new things,” Lone promised at once. “Why don’t you take a bath and try to relax before Last Meal?”
Lizabeth sighed. “A bath does sound nice,” she admitted. “But you don’t have to get the clothes for me—I can manage myself.”
“Why should you, when I’m here to serve you, Mistress?” Lone asked simply.
“You don’t have to call me that in private or serve me all the time either,” Lizabeth told him, frowning.
“But I want to.” He looked at her longingly and she had the feeling he wanted to take her hands in his again but didn’t think she’d allow it. “I want to serve you in every way, Lizabeth,” he said in a low voice. “Did you think I was pretending when I took that oath in the ceremony just now?” He leaned closer, holding her eyes with his own. “I…meant…every…word,” he said softly.
“Oh…” Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to do…what to say. His gray eyes were so intense and somehow it seemed she couldn’t look away from them. “Lone…” she began, but then found she couldn’t go on. She literally had no words for the emotions swirling inside her.
“Take a bath and relax,” he murmured, taking a step back. “I’ll go tend to getting you new clothes.”
Then he turned and left the bedchamber, leaving Lizabeth feeling breathless and uncertain and completely confused about this new manifestation of her assistant. Where had the old Lone gone? And did she really want him back?
Lone wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. He should never have taken the liberties he had taken—should never have held Lizabeth down and sucked her breasts when she told him not to.
But I had to, a dark voice spoke up inside him. The half of him he usually kept buried—the half that seemed to be coming to the surface now on this savage world. It was the dark half of him that had allowed him to face down the Friezens—but it was also the part of him that had prompted him to hold Lizabeth down and do what had to be done forcibly.
Sometimes Lone wondered about himself. Would he have been the Dark Twin of his pair, or the Light? It wasn’t always certain at birth. Often a pair of Twin Kindred were months old before they could be identified as one or the other. For years he had felt that he would have been the Light Twin if his long-dead brother had lived. Now…he wasn’t so sure.
Shouldn’t have done it, he thought again. But I would do it again. Will do it again if I have to—I can’t let her hurt herself just because she doesn’t want to accept my help for some reason.
But what could that reason be? Why was she so stubborn about letting him help her when her breasts filled and the needing came on her? Lone didn’t know and he hadn’t been able to get an answer out of her. He had an idea that Lizabeth didn’t know herself why she was so reluctant to ask for help. But she had certainly been angry with him for giving her help she hadn’t asked for.
Lone sighed wistfully. Did she hate him now, for doing what he had done? He certainly hoped not because it seemed extremely likely he would have to do it again. Even now he had the idea that Lizabeth might still be in pain. When he had asked her if she felt the emptiness, she had denied it a little too quickly, he thought. She might be feeling the emptiness at this moment, which Lone had heard females who had been affected by the Xi-46 compound describe as devastatingly painful.
But after what he had promised her, how could he help with that particular problem? How—
“Oh, hello lad! Tis good to see you again, yuh it is.”
Lone looked up and saw that the friendly voice belonged to Joren, Mistress Anarrah’s Novice and apparently also her long-time lover. The older warrior had several swathes of dark fabrics draped over one arm and a smile on his face.
“Hello,” Lone said, nodding.
“I heard you preformed well at the ceremony of oath taking.” Joren nodded his shaggy head approvingly. “My Lady seems to think the two of you are a true love match—that you’re with your lady for more than just advancement or any kind of personal gain.”
“I am completely devoted to Lizabeth,” Lone said honestly. “To tell you the truth, I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her. She is the only female for me.”
“As it should be, as it should be.” Joren nodded again. “So what are you doing wandering about the Tower only an hour before dinner time? Are you looking for something for your lady?”
Lone smiled. “You guessed it. My lady has…a spot on her clothing. I need a new robe and vest for her.”
“As it happens, I was just coming to bring both you and your lady the garments you must wear at the banquet tonight,” Joren said. “So I’ll save you the trip. Here.” He held out the garments he’d been carrying, draping them carefully over Lone’s arm.
“Thank you,” Lone said gratefully. “I thought I’d have to find my way back to the clothing room by the cleansing pools and this castle seems to be something of a maze.”
“The Tower can be complicated to learn because the bits that were hollowed out by the hot springs don’t really go the way you’d think,” Joren said, wisely. “But you’ll get it soon. And in the meantime, my Lady Anarrah has asked that I help you and your lady in the little things—like getting fresh garments.” He gestured at the clothes draped over Lone’s arm. “There’s sleepwear for both you and your lady in there as well as fresh clothes for the morrow. And I believe that the undermaids have already stocked your room with bathing items. But is there anything we forgot? Anything you need?”
Lone started to say that no, everything was perfect and they had everything they needed but then he stopped.
“Actually, there is one other item I need in order to care for my lady,” he said to Joren. “It might sound rather unconventional though…” He hesitated.
Joren laughed. “Unconventional doesn’t bother us here at the Tower, lad. Just tell me what you need and I’ll find it for your lady.”
“Thank yo
u,” Lone said gratefully. “In that case what I need is…” He explained to Joren and the other man nodded.
“Oh yes—we have those. In fact, we have a selection to choose from. If you’d like to follow me, I think we have enough time to get what you need before you and your lady must get dressed for the banquet.”
“Wonderful.” Lone nodded again. “Lead the way.”
He was grateful to have found a solution to his problem—he hoped, anyway.
Eleven
“Oh, my dear—it’s so good to meet you. I understand you’re the new Initiate to the Mistress of the Law?”
A pretty, plump woman who looked to be about fifty leaned across the small table at her side to speak to Lizabeth.
“Um, yes—yes, I am.” Lizabeth smiled and tried not to look too closely at what was going on around her. But averting her eyes didn't help—she could still hear the sounds.
In her nervousness, she had to fight the urge to adjust her banquet gown. It was too revealing, she thought, looking down at herself. In fact, when Lone had first brought it to her and told her it was what she would be wearing at dinner that night, she almost hadn’t believed him. The new outfit didn’t have cutouts for the nipples or a high slit which showed her pussy, but it still wasn’t much of an improvement seeing that it was made almost entirely out of thin, stretchy, black mesh.
Lizabeth thought she had never felt so exposed—her breasts and sex could be seen clearly through the see-through black dress and the slinky material clung to her like a second skin. If she hadn’t taken a bath in the firming waters of the cleansing pools, she might have refused to wear it at all. But thank goodness everything that had been sagging before was in good shape now. Even her breasts looked perky and her nipples, which were still tight and sensitive from the way Lone had sucked them, poked out almost obscenely, tenting the thin material provocatively.
There were no shoes to go with the dress since apparently everyone went barefoot here. The flagstones were uniformly heated and comfortable and they were kept scrupulously clean by the army of undermaids Lizabeth had seen scurrying here and there when they were being shown to their room. So at least she didn’t have any stilt-like heels to contend with, but the dress itself was bad enough without them.
She’d been extremely reluctant to wear such an outfit in public but if everyone else at the banquet was going to be dressed the same, what else could she do? To start with, though, she hadn’t even wanted to wear it out of the bathroom, where she had put it on.
She knew that Lone was waiting for her, also dressed in his banquet clothes, whatever they might be, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about him seeing her like this. Mostly because she still wasn’t sure how she felt about him period. Part of her was still angry with him…but part of her couldn’t forget the hot feeling of his mouth on her breasts.
Lone’s eyes had widened and he had given a long, low whistle when she’d finally gotten up the nerve to emerge from the bathroom with the outfit on.
“You look stunning, Mistress,” he’d murmured, looking her up and down. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Absolutely exposed, you mean,” Lizabeth had said, frowning.
Lone shrugged. “I suppose. Would you rather I not look at you? It’s going to be difficult but I’ll try if you’d rather I didn’t look.”
Lizabeth sighed. “No, I…I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not after…” She cleared her throat. “It would be ridiculous for you to be constantly averting your eyes because I’m forced to dress like some kind of a courtesan here.”
“I’m dressed rather provocatively too,” Lone pointed out. “My evening vest isn’t that much different from the one I had on before. But I believe my trousers have the same kind of mesh your dress is made of.”
Indeed, the legs of his tight, black, low-slung trousers were made of some kind of leather material. But when Lizabeth allowed her eyes to stray to the crotch, she felt her cheeks beginning to heat. The same black mesh which made up her dress had been made into a kind of pouch in the front of the black trousers. But clearly, it had been made with a male who had less impressive proportions than Lone’s in mind. The mesh was stretched to the limit, even though the big Kindred’s shaft was only half hard.
“The trousers…um, don’t look big enough,” she said, dragging her eyes away.
“I assure you, they fit much better before you came out of the fresher wearing that,” he murmured, nodding at her dress.
Lizabeth blushed and then lifted her chin, trying to get past the embarrassment.
“I guess we’re in for an eventful night,” she said, keeping her voice calm and even.
“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Lone said. “I was given directions to the banquet hall so if you’d take my arm, my Lady?”
He made his words a question, leaning towards her with his muscular arm held out to her.
For a moment Lizabeth had hesitated. Did she want to take his arm? Had she forgiven him for sucking her nipples when she’d told him not to?
Not completely, she admitted to herself. But the fact was that no matter how angry he had made her, she was no longer in pain. Well, not from her breasts, anyway. She was still throbbing between her thighs, the emptiness difficult to bear. The ache in her pussy to be filled was almost overwhelming but she’d be damned if she let him know that, she told herself.
At last she took his arm and let him lead her from the room. They hadn’t made much conversation until they had entered the banquet hall and had been taken to their seats by one of the guards.
The seating arrangements were bizarre to say the least. Most of the Mistresses sat on strange wooden benches with a large portion of the bottom cut out. Lizabeth could see that the bottom was cut out because most of them had their legs spread to expose themselves to their Novices, who were lying flat on their backs under the wooden benches with their heads propped up at just the right angle to…
“Oh my God, are the Novices licking them?” Lizabeth stared at the scene in disbelief. The Mistresses were arranged in a large circle. All but a few of them were sitting on the benches with their Novices below them, licking away industriously, their loud lapping clearly audible in the echoing chamber.
And that was when the pretty, plump blonde Mistress leaned over to introduce herself while Lizabeth was trying to adjust her dress.
“You must be Mistress Paige,” she said, smiling in a friendly way, as though her large, burly novice wasn’t situated directly below her lapping at her pussy.
“I…I…yes, I am.” Lizabeth told herself to get a grip. She had been to many different countries and dealt with many different customs. This was just another one, she told herself—a bizarre one, true, but she didn’t want to offend anyone so she would just act like it was no big deal.
“I’m Mistress Gettsum—I’m here to study art—specifically the Abisonial Period,” the blonde mistress said, smiling. She motioned to Lizabeth. “Well, go on my dear—you and your Novice get situated so you can have something to eat. If you came here on the train today you must be starving.” She used a set of three long, thin metal skewers which were bound together at one end to scoop up something that writhed and wiggled and dumped it into a gently bubbling pot on the table beside her.
“Um…uh…” Despite her determination not to give offense, Lizabeth found she couldn’t quite reconcile herself to the idea of basically sitting on her assistant’s face while she ate with a bunch of strangers.
“What is it, my dear? What’s wrong?” Mistress Gettsum inquired, clearly seeing the uncertain look on Lizabeth’s face.
“I just…have never seen this type of…of seating arrangement before,” Lizabeth said carefully.
“What, you’ve never seen a queening bench?” Mistress Gettsum looked surprised. “You must not be from Yonnie Six.”
“No, I’m not,” Lizabeth said shortly. “And this, uh, queening bench, well…it doesn’t look like it will be very…uh comfortable.”
“Wel
l that depends on how good your Novice is with his tongue.” Mistress Gettsum giggled. “My Oglethorpe is a positive magician with his. He keeps me uncomfortable in the best way.” She reached down casually and stroked the thick shock of dark brown hair that was all she could reach of her Novice. In return, he seemed to redouble his efforts until Mistress Gettsum threw back her head and moaned.
“But…well…” Lizabeth stammered, stalling for time.
“It’s all right, Mistress,” Lone said in a low voice and when she looked up at him, she could see the desire in his half-lidded gray eyes.
“Lone,” she protested. “Surely you don’t mean—”
“I don’t mind,” he growled softly. “It will be my pleasure to service you with my tongue while you dine tonight.”
“Well, I mind,” Lizabeth whispered. “Can I get a different kind of chair?” she asked Mistress Gettsum who was still moaning happily. “I mean surely there must be some other kind of seating arrangement here.”
“Um, what?” The blonde mistress seemed to come back to herself reluctantly. “You want a rocking chair instead?”
“Yes—yes, that would be fine.” Eating what appeared to be some kind of living fondue while sitting in a rocking chair might be kind of awkward but it was bound to beat the weirdly erotic queening bench, Lizabeth thought desperately.
“Guard?” Mistress Gettsum called and snapped her fingers.
At once one of the bearded guards approached them.
“Yes, My Lady Gettsum?” he asked respectfully.
“Our new Mistress here doesn’t wish to use the queening bench tonight,” Mistress Gettsum said and then gasped. “Oh—Oglethorpe, you naughty boy! Wait, I’m trying to talk!” she exclaimed and then turned her attention back to the guard. “Will you please get her Novice strapped into a rocking chair so she can begin dinner before it all crawls off her plate?”
She nodded down at the plate opposite her own which was presumably Lizabeth’s. Sure enough, most of the things on the plate seemed to be writhing, which made Lizabeth’s stomach churn.
Instructing the Novice Page 12