Mandas held his head high as he strode into the anteroom, resplendent in the ruffles and silks which comprised his best attire. His shoes answered the general din of conversation with crisp clicks against the stone of the entryway, muted when he stepped onto the deep purple carpet. One of his gloved hands clutched a walking cane which he tapped against the floor, its length carved with flowing designs and accents that represented parts of his clan's crest. One took the form of a snake entwined about the top quarter of the staff, its eyes two glittering sapphires.

Behind him, the door opened once more, revealing the deepening twilight, and Mandas stepped aside to allow a proper and polite distance between him and the High Lord who had arrived.

Around the periphery of the chamber, high-borns stood in soft conversation, many holding crystal goblets filled with dusky red wine or amber gold brandy. When a servant approached with a tray, Mandas gave a single shake of his head without looking in the servant's direction. The servant bowed and moved on.

He was paid little heed. Most of the guests were above him and outside his circle of influence. For the moment, it was exactly what he wanted. His eyes darted about the chamber for another moment before he slipped away towards a set of three curtained doorways. Ahead of him, a High Lady disappeared into the leftmost one, and the ruby gemstone above it glowed.

The other two were unoccupied, their rubies dark. Mandas chose the middle one. Inside was a small but elegant chamber. A floor-to-ceiling mirror adorned one wall. Opposite it lay a plush chair. In a corner was a small dresser, and upon it were small tins of various aromatic dried herbs and weeds, suitable for any one of several smoking pipes which lay arranged in a small rack. Overhead, air flowed out through a gap in the stones. In another corner was a narrow doorway that led to a sanitary.

Mandas stood in the center of the chamber and rapped his cane against the floor in three sharp reports. He fell into the chair and waited.

A few moments later, the mirror shuddered and swung inward like a door, revealing a narrow passage which allowed the servants to maintain the parlor without being seen. Marris took only one step inside, his hands clinging to the edge of the mirror-door. "Please, my Lord, I could get into trouble for--"

"That is not my concern," Mandas snapped with another rap of his cane against the floor. "What is my concern is how things will go during the latter half of the Feast."

"I said I would do as you asked, and I have. No matter what you request, I will ensure Amanda will be available for you."

"I have an additional stipulation now. You are not to reveal in any way, or allow it to be revealed through your inaction, that I came anywhere near Amanda."

Marris' eyes widened. "You mean ... you mean I should keep that from Lord Norlan?"

"I mean from anyone."

"But, my Lord, I have to keep some sort of record so we can better anticipate the needs of the guests in future Feasts."

"From anyone, Marris."

"If Halno finds out I falsified--"

"That would earn an order of magnitude less trouble for you than your other dirty little secret."

Marris fell silent. The hinges of the mirror-door creaked as his fingers tightened.

Mandas stood and stepped over to Marris. Marris pulled the door towards him like a shield. "Another thing: If Amanda tells you anything about my session with her, anything at all, you will ignore it."

Marris let out an exasperated sigh. "I cannot ignore any obvious abuse of--"

Marris' head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging and red with the blow from the back of Mandas' hand. Mandas clutched Marris' tunic. "If you ever, ever again even so much as suggest I would act in a way unbecoming my status, you perverted little worm, then being known as a man-dipper will be the least of your problems."

Marris' eyes glistened. "I-I'm terribly sorry, my Lord, I didn't mean to imply anything!"

Mandas let go of Marris' tunic and shoved him back. "Like bloody hellfire you didn't. But I need you, so I cannot afford to punish you in the way you deserve. But remember that you need me if you want to remain employed. Or if you want to be employed ever again, for after I am done, I will have far more influence than Norlan could ever hope to achieve."

"Yes, my Lord, I'll do whatever you want."

Mandas' lips curled into a sly smile. "Good. Now get out of my sight."

Marris bowed his head as he pulled the mirror-door closed behind him.

Mandas let out a small sigh and observed himself before the mirror. He smoothed a wrinkle near his waist and tugged one of his gloves until it fit more snug. He squeezed his fingers around the top of the cane and sauntered out of the parlor.

Amanda stood amongst peers once more, standing in a line with her fellow slaves in their shared quarters, along with several more who had been provided by Lord Rallan. She had been prepared as the others had. Her sex had been unsealed, which now oozed and dripped with hot lust crystallized by a massive dose of the drug. Her hands clenched and unclenched behind her, arms tense as she unconsciously fought against her bonds to grant her some relief.

She glanced to her left and looked at Larra. She felt some satisfaction that Larra was treated no differently. She moaned and gyrated her hips, the insides of her thighs damp, her nipples hard and erect. Another of her fellow slaves, one with dusky reddish-brown hair, twisted about with a pained look of unrequited desire on her face.

Nothing special, Amanda thought as she returned her gaze forward.

In less than another candlemark, the door opened. Several man-servants flooded into the chamber, all carrying chains. Marris was among them. He approached Amanda, but would not raise his eyes to meet hers.

Amanda observed him as he locked the chain to her collar, looking for some clue as to what else was happening, anything to break Norlan's mantra. She thought his inability to look her in the eye was a telling sign of something.

Nothing special.

No, Marris did think Amanda was special. Otherwise why did he grill her for information the other day?

Stop it, she chided herself as Marris gave the chain a gentle tug. Stop reading something into it that's not there.

Her speculation over her status was suited for times when it amounted to nothing more than a mental exercise. It helped her cope with the day-to-day monotony of being a living sex toy. But she had to stop when it could be tested by reality. The disappointment could send her into another spiral of depression.

Yet as she fell into step behind Marris, she could not quench that faint spark of anticipation.

All the man-servants had each claimed a slave, and they moved with their charges in a single file down a narrow passage. They emerged into a large, circular chamber. Curtained doorways stood at regular intervals around the circumference, about twelve in all. One was wider than the others. In the center of the room, arranged in an evenly spaced cluster, were short metal rods embedded into the stone, about a hand-span in height. Welded to each by the middle of its chain was a pair of shackles.

Each of the slaves was directed to stand with one of the rods between her feet, facing the wider doorway. Marris positioned her near the edge of the cluster to one side. He crouched at her feet and fit the shackles about her ankles, closing each one with a sharp snap.

Above the sound of other shackles closing rose the soft moans of slaves stimulated to near orgasm by the walk to the chamber. Larra was among them, and she trembled and swayed when the man-servant left her. The chain between her ankles rattled as she tried to spread her legs further apart to relieve the swollen pressure in her sex.

Marris left her. Amanda yelped when another man-servant slapped her ass. Yet another paused before her, gave her a lusty smirk, and grabbed her breasts. Amanda closed her eyes and uttered a ragged moan as he stroked her nipples hard with the pads of his thumbs until she was left quivering and straining like Larra.

"All right, that's quite enough," Amanda heard Marris' soft voice. "Everyone return to your duties, please."

The man-servant rolled his eyes. He kneaded Amanda's breasts for another moment before he relented and left.

Amanda swallowed and took several deep but shaky breaths to pull herself from the brink of climax. She looked up and saw Marris standing before his captive audience. He folded his hands before him, then dropped them to his sides, then folded them behind him. He shifted his weight and dropped his hands to his sides once more. His face was drawn, his eyes subdued.

"Um, okay," he said with a small quaver to his voice. "Some of you are new to this, so I will tell you what to expect. You'll stand here and let the guests look you over. Later, once they decide what they want, you'll be taken to one of these chambers ..." He gestured at the curtained doorways. "... and be prepared for the guests' pleasure. Obey them as you would Lord Norlan."

Amanda half expected him to say "any questions?" Of course, he didn't, but his eyes found Amanda briefly before he slipped out of the room.

Before he had to conduct one himself, Norlan saw little point to a High Feast. Now that he had been put upon to entertain both his peers and his betters with such a gathering, he saw even less point to it.

Nevertheless, Norlan played at being host. Holding his goblet of wine and carrying himself with as much regal bearing as he could muster, he made the slow walk from one end of the feast hall to the other, the tables lining the sides straining from their load of roasted meats, sweet-laden pastries, and fermented juices.

His guests were forced to acknowledge him, and he exchanged polite smiles. It confirmed what he had suspected: the High Lords quite liked their association with Norlan from a distance. They were more interested in speaking with each other rather than him. Nevertheless, he was satisfied that they deigned to allow for his existence, for it was far more than they were affording Mandas. He had the distinct pleasure in seeing Mandas treated as if he were one of the servants, to be unseen and unheard unless needed.

It would have been more pleasurable, however, had Mandas shown even the least care towards his nonperson status.

Norlan stopped by the entrance to the adjoining chamber, where musicians played for a small audience of High Lords and Ladies who danced in slow, methodical movements which matched the drab nature of the music.

One Lady stood alone, fanning herself. She spotted Norlan and offered a small smile, a bow of her head, and a slow sweep of her arm before her. She was offering herself as his dance partner. Even from that distance, Norlan could see the tightness in her face. She was offering herself either out of duty or because she wished to wheedle some favor from him.

Norlan returned the gesture with a bow of his head and a sweep of an arm towards his body, signaling his polite refusal. He held the goblet further aloft as a means of explanation. She pressed her lips together and snapped her fan out once more, waving it against her face in a hurried manner. Norlan surmised it had been the latter reason.

His eyes tracked towards the curtained doorway which led to the slave viewing chamber. A High Lord stood in quiet conversation with his fellow near the door. He appeared about to turn away, spotted Norlan, and remained where he was.

Norlan averted his eyes, paused, and looked back. The High Lord was gone, the curtain falling back into place in his wake. His conversation partner now revealed himself to be High Lord Ardon.

Norlan bowed his head and turned away.

"Ah, one moment, my dear Lord Ambassador," Ardon's voice rang out.

Norlan continued a few steps away from the entrance to the dance chamber before he turned around. Ardon carried a goblet as well, and from the way his cheeks glowed, it was not his first. Nor his second. "What may I do for you, my Lord?" Norlan said in an even voice.

"You can tell me why you are not mingling with your guests is what you can do for me," said Ardon, his voice somewhere between amusement and admonishment.

Norlan glanced around him. "My guests appear to be mingling quite well on their own."

"That is not what I meant."

"Then for what purpose, my Lord? So they may beset me for favors I have yet to be able to grant?"

Ardon uttered a long, windy sigh. "Next you will be telling me your initial reports were impeccably accurate in that there is little for the High Lords to leverage from the Oceanus fleet."

"I never said that in my report."

"It is implied. No ill-gotten goods. No admission of any crimes, save for their obvious one. No attempts to bargain."

Norlan smiled tightly. "Must we use such a joyous occasion to talk of politics?"

Ardon look a long drink from his goblet. "There is never a time when politics are not discussed. The High Lords can make the King's use of the sanitary a political issue if we wish!"

A few guests glanced his way. A High Lady wrinkled her nose, then thrust it into the air as she passed. "Really, my Lord, you're making quite a scene," said Norlan in a neutral voice.

"Ah, perhaps! And they will all forget about it by tomorrow, as is proper. That, my dear Lord Ambassador, is one of the joys of being a High Lord. Perhaps you should consider it."

Norlan controlled his response, letting it manifest as little more than a strained sigh through his nose. He knew that Ambassadors could elevate themselves to High Lordship with the right connections. And the right bribes.

Norlan's gaze drifted past Ardon. Another two High Lords had slipped into the viewing chamber. Now Mandas hovered near the entrance as well, engaged in conversation with a Lady. It was largely one-sided, as the Lady offered little more than a curt nod of her head and a glance about her as if seeking better prospects. "As you have made it pointedly clear, my Lord, I have nothing with which to bargain in that regard."

Ardon noticed Norlan's gaze. He turned around and snorted. "So Mandas showed himself after all."

"Yes, so it seems," said Norlan in a dry voice. "It is hoped he will keep most of his boorishness to himself."

"He fairly exudes it," Ardon declared. "The air will be thick with it before long. I do not envy you, Norlan, being forced to work with him."

Norlan peered into his goblet. "It has not been quite as bad as that."

Ardon's gaze swung back towards Norlan. "Are you quite serious?"

Norlan looked up. His gaze narrowed on Mandas again. "Yes, I am serious. And it worries me."

Ardon frowned and lifted his goblet. "I may have had a few of these already, but no so many that I cannot demand what in hellfire you're talking about!"

Norlan sighed as a few more guests glanced their way in annoyance. He took the High Lord's elbow and escorted him away from the feast table. "Please, my Lord, keep your voice down. Mandas is not acting quite as I had expected. He appears as if he is attempting to be -- dare I say it -- competent, even if in his own dull-witted manner."

Ardon smirked. "You know what they say, Norlan. Even a stopped clock is correct twice a day."

Norlan glanced towards the entrance to the viewing chamber. Mandas turned away from the High Lady and walked inside with little regard to who saw him. "Perhaps you are right, my Lord," said Norlan. "He may simply be a handy vessel for my misgivings about the situation. And I will remind you it was the High Lords that worried if the King would use Mandas to escalate the situation into something more than it is."

"And is he?"

"I thought he might be, until I checked for myself something he told me after I had met with the Fleet Admiral." Norlan's lips curled into a small frown, and he took a sip of his wine. "It turns out there may be some merit to his theory that Oceanus is after only a single person on the fleet."

"That is a ludicrous notion," Lord Ardon declared. "Why go through all this trouble for one man?"

Norlan looked towards the doorway to the viewing chamber. "Yes, why indeed."

Amanda had no idea what to expect or what she was supposed to do, so when the first of Norlan's guests entered the chamber, she could only stare at him.

He was a middle-aged gentleman, with some faint streaks of gray through his otherwise slicked-down dark brown hair. His skin had a faint olive cast to it, as if he hailed from what would have been the Mediterranean on Earth. The gentleman approached the group of slaves, his lips curling into a tiny but lascivious smile as his eyes slid over the ample display of naked flesh.

He paced the length of the first row of slaves, pausing before the next to last, a young blonde. He slid a hand down her side and was rewarded by a visible shudder and a moan. His fingers probed her folds until the slave panted in rising pleasure. Just as the slave pants became pre-orgasmic whimpers, he relented and withdrew his hand.

The gentleman examined his glistening fingertips, then held them before the slave's face. Without hesitation, the girl leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his fingers, her cheeks dimpling and her tongue lashing. She drew back, his fingers emerging with a faint wet pop. She licked her lips and smiled.

He continued down the next row. He stopped by the slave two down from Amanda and fondled her breasts, his thick fingers squeezing them like putty. The slave gasped and sighed in delight. Finally, he stopped before Amanda.

Amanda drew herself as straight as possible and spread her feet as far as the shackles would allow. She arched her back and thrust her breasts forward. He tilted his head as he examined them, eyes flicking between her two nipples before descending to her sex.

He stepped to one side. Amanda closed her eyes and let out a relieved breath, thinking he was done with her. The next moment, she uttered a yelp as his hand slapped her backside.

Her eyes flew open, wide and staring. He slapped her again and again, falling into a regular staccato cadence of loud blows with his meaty hand. He stopped at the tenth blow, but Amanda flinched as if expecting an eleventh. She panted hard, her pussy drowning in moist heat, the sting of punishment becoming lustful pleasure, her sex half-risen to climax.

When she looked at him again, her eyes silently begged for sexual release. Instead, he simply gave her a nod, a small grin, and moved on to the next.

Two more gentlemen entered. Unlike the first, these two refused to remain silent, chatting away about the slave trade.

"Ah, but that one was nothing like the honey-haired beauty I had sold the season before last!" boomed one of the gentleman, a rotund fellow with a jovial face. He stepped up to a slave with light brown hair, a sample of which he picked up in his fingers. "Something like this, but with lighter accents."

His companion, a slimmer man with a balding pate, gave a single careful nod of his head. "But was she as buxom?"

"More so than this." He cupped a breast and lifted it. "Hardly any heft to this one! But here ..." He moved on to the blonde who the first had molested. He cupped both breasts and lifted them. The girl gasped and writhed. "This is more like it. Something that has weight, body, presence." He let them drop and wagged a finger at his companion. "Presence, my friend, that is what it is all about."

His companion offered a tiny smirk. "I always did say you take this too seriously."

The portly fellow waved a hand in dismissal. "Feh! A slave should be enjoyed like a fine feast. Everything is important." He stood before Larra. "Take this one for instance. Older girl, lots of experience, I wager." He clasped her hips. "Full figure as well. Quite mature. Quite ripe, you might say."

Amanda closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, cords standing out on her neck for a moment. It's like we're pieces of meat to them, she thought.

"And what about this one?"

Amanda's eyes snapped open to see the face of the balding man hovering a hand-span from her.

His companion nearly bowled over his friend in his eagerness to stand before Amanda. She managed not to shy away when his hand reached for her, his fingers brushing through her raven locks. "Oh, the wondrous hair on this one!" he boomed. "So luxuriant and soft, like fine silk. And ..." He leaned forward and peered. "Oh, my, the eyes!"

Amanda blinked and stared.

"The eyes?" said his companion.

"Yes, come here, look for yourself! See? See?"

The older gentleman narrowed his eyes. "What is it I am seeing?"

"Something all too rare in the usual lot of slaves belonging to these pretenders of high-borns. Intelligence!"

"I don't see it."

"Bah!" The portly man brushed his companion aside. "Your senses are too addled by the slave mills the slavemasters run. It is obvious that Norlan -- that pretentious bastard -- acquired himself an Oceanus slave."

Amanda tried not to look smug.

"And he's just as likely not to sell her to me, either," the rotund gentleman growled.

"It's not quite proper to make such offers during a High Feast, I would think," said his companion in a delicate voice.

"Since when has that ever stopped our lot?" came the reply as the two of them moved on.

As they left, her eyes fell upon two more arrivals. One was a somewhat squat man with a large nose and a permanent scowl etched into his face. The other was slim, self-assured, his face radiating a sly calm. Amanda remembered him. It was the one who had entered a bidding war with Norlan at the auction back in Oceanus. Norlan had called him "Mandas."

The squat gentleman stepped forward and grunted, "Do any of you lot know how to please a lady properly?"

A small chorus of "This slaves knows," rose above the continued chatter of the portly gentleman and his companion.

"This slave knows," said Amanda. After a very brief pause, she added, "This slave is very good at it, Master."

The man raised an eyebrow at her, snorted, gave a curt nod of his head, and left.

Amanda did not dare look at the other slaves, and especially not Larra. She likely broke some sort of protocol by offering that additional information. She didn't care. If she was going to be used, she wanted to be used for the right thing.

"So you can please the ladies, hmm?"

Amanda flinched. Mandas grinned at her.

"Yes, Master," said Amanda. "This slave can please a lady quite well."

"And what about a man?"

"This slave can please a man as well, Master."

"In what ways?"

Amanda hesitated. She knew what she was especially good at, but she was tired of doing the same thing day in and day out. "In any way you please, Master."

Mandas lifted his hand and cupped her chin. Her eyes shimmered as she held them to his. "Now that is an impressive claim. Very impressive. I suppose that will remain to be seen."

He let go of her and slipped away. Amanda felt a tiny chill down her spine which she could not explain.

In the Feast Hall, one of the floor-to-ceiling portraits shuddered and hinged open. Marris side-stepped into the chamber and let the "door" click shut beside him. He folded his hands and waited.

Not long after, he caught a High Lord looking at him. The High Lord lifted his right hand, forefinger and middle finger extended straight and pressed together, the others curled back. He tipped his hand so that it lay palm-down. He dropped his hand a moment later, the entire gesture lasting no more than a blink of an eye.

Lord Yasroy, straight sex, slave on her back, Marris translated in his head.

Another caught his attention. The High Lord held his fingers as the other had, except he tipped his hand palm-up, then tilted his fingers straight up.

Lord Tanner, straight sex, slave on top and humping.

Then another, holding his forefinger and thumb in a circle, then closing the circle.

Lord Assaran, oral sex, and she better swallow.

Marris did not write any of it down, as there could be no obvious written record of the encounters. Thus all servants entrusted with this responsibility had excellent memories. He would keep all their preferences in mind, no matter how many, for as long as needed. He had never missed a single one in all the times he had performed this task for other employers. He would take written notes after the Feast, and use his own symbols for representing the guests and their preferences.

The pug-nosed gentleman who had asked the question of the slaves appeared. He held his hand flat, palm down, and curled his forefinger. He flipped his hand once, then withdrew.

Lord Renlon, on behalf of Lady Renlon, oral sex, slave on top.

Mandas appeared, and Marris held his breath. Mandas held his forefinger and middle finger straight and pressed together, holding his palm face-down, then angled his fingers downward, then curled his fingers into a fist.

Ambassador Mandas, straight sex from behind, slave heavily restrained, Marris thought. Wait, what?

Mandas had added a second gesture after a moment's pause, whipping a forefinger back and forth twice, then pointing it at himself. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

And ... a discipline device of his own choosing, Marris added in his head, giving the ambassador a silent plea. Great gods, he never told me about that! Doesn't he understand I would need to clear that with ...

Mandas made a third gesture, similar to the first, except he held his hand at a forty-five degree angle. Marris paled at the symbol for homosexual male sex. Mandas smirked and dropped his hand, disappearing into the throng of guests.

Amanda's existence had entered another timeless limbo, where all she could do was wait and listen to her own ragged breathing or the tinkle of her chains. Despite the spaciousness and opulence of the chamber in which she had been incarcerated, her heart fluttered with the first anxious twinges of claustrophobia.

Her head and neck lay supported by several cushions upon the floor. The chain had been removed from her collar as it was not needed. Her body was face-down, shoulders near the floor, ass thrust into the air. Her arms lay stretched straight under her, each wrist chained to an ankle, forcing her knees forward and elevating her hips until her pussy lay open and helpless between her thighs, still oozing with burning, unrequited lust. Her breasts lay nestled in the furs, which teased her sensitive nipples, pleasure radiating into her already primed pussy. The occasional shiver rippled through her body.

Amanda uttered a ragged sigh when she realized she could not see the chamber entrance behind her. Her heart pounded at the idea that someone might enter the chamber and simply take her without ever revealing who he was.

Or perhaps it was for the better. So many of the High Lords elicited nothing but revulsion from her. It was not their appearance; she had been with several men in Oceanus who were not physically attractive, but most had treated her well and seemed to care for her well-being. That had made it a pleasure (or at least tolerable) to be their slave. It was the attitude of the Urisi men which she found repugnant.

For once she was grateful for the drug. She was not sure she could have mustered her own arousal at will as she had learned to do in Oceanus.

Amanda heard a sudden, quick swish of cloth behind her, and she bit her lip to suppress a gasp. There was a pause, then a less urgent fall of fabric as the curtain dropped back into place over the entrance. Then only silence.

Amanda's breathing grew loud to her own ears. She shivered in both anticipation and fear, her hips writhing as her arousal seemed to spike at her suitor's arrival. She closed her eyes and uttered a quavering moan as she envisioned a cock sliding into her needy folds, or a tongue playing at her entrance, or just a probing finger slipping into her tunnel.

In the unnerving silence, Amanda had the despairing thought that her would-be temporary Master had rejected her, that she would be left like this for the rest of the night and be denied relief before she was sealed again after the end of the feast.

Finally, she heard soft movement as her mystery suitor stepped forward. She heard a faint squeak, like metal against wood, and then a sliding noise.

Something dropped to the furs next to her. It was an ornately carved walking stick, though it appeared one end had been removed to reveal a hollow.

Oh gods, what did he have inside of it that he just...

Amanda's thought was interrupted by a sudden, thin blaze of pain in a line across one ass cheek. The stinging rebuke burned like hot metal for a few more agonizing moments before it burst into a roaring flame of ecstasy. Pleasure novaed from the "wound," which itself had already faded and left her skin as unblemished as it was before, and her pussy swelled and tingled.

He struck her again and again, each blow timed so that the sting of the current stroke met the pleasure of the previous. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, her hips writhing in unrelenting need. Her pussy strained at the edge of terrible orgasm amidst the cavalcade of sadism and seduction.

Finally, he stopped, and she was left with only the pleasure. She moaned, low and deep, her fingers curling and uncurling, her breathing ragged as her sex radiated with a lust escalated to near painful levels.

She flinched when the rounded tip of the slim rod touched her backside again, and she shivered at the chill of the metal. He drew the tip in lazy, looping patterns along her ass cheeks, the chill giving way to heat as little tingling trails of pleasure pushed her against the very edge of climax.

"You want to cry out, don't you?"

Amanda shuddered at Mandas' voice.

He dipped the rod between her thighs, trailing the tip up the inside of one, then down the other. Amanda gasped out her pleasure, her thighs quaking. Moisture dripped from her soaked pussy. He tapped the shaft of the rod against one thigh, each tap sparking a sting of pain like a deep pinprick, only to dissolve into more pleasure.

"You want to beg me for an orgasm, don't you?"

Amanda tried to speak, but it came out as another ragged moan. She wanted to tell him she knew her duty, that it was not up to her to decide how or when she received pleasure. It was only his pleasure that mattered.

He flicked the tip of the rod against the side of her sex just beside her sopping slit. Amanda trembled with the fear that he would strike her folds, yet the touch blazed with white-hot ecstasy. Her muscles strained as her pussy gave several weak, abortive throbs.

"You would throw decorum and good slave breeding to the four winds if it meant you could climax at this moment."

Amanda flinched when he nestled the rod in her folds. A gloved hand pressed into the small of her back, preventing her from moving her hips. She trembled. Another test, Amanda thought in desperation. Another damned test.

Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but her words dissolved into whimpers when Mandas slid the rod against her womanhood for only as long as a single breath.

"Well?"

"This ... th-this slave ... knows her place ..." Amanda gasped.

"Hmm. Do you?"

"Yes, Master ... y-yes ..."

He pressed the rod more firmly until her womanhood tingled and her pussy ached for relief. "And do you obey as well?"

"Yes, Master, this slave obeys!" Amanda cried in a breathless voice. A tear welled up in the corner of one eye and trickled down the side of her head.

"And if I told you I would not let you climax unless you did beg, what would you do then?"

"This slave doesn't--"

"Do not dare say you do not understand," declared Mandas. "I am basing everything I might do in the next few moments on whether or not you can indeed understand."

Amanda closed her eyes again, wishing for the torture to end. Nevertheless, she summoned what resolve she could, and tried to form an appropriate response. "This slave ... will always obey ... will always do as she's told ... uhhn!"

He slid the rod again. Her back arched, her muscles tensed, her pussy strained. Mandas remained rock-still, and pressed his hand harder into her back. Amanda fell back from the edge once more, whimpering into the cushion.

"I will give you one more chance," Mandas said. "Now, listen: What if I said I intend to tell your precious Master Norlan that you were a horrible slave no matter what you do?"

Amanda's mind raced. "I-It wouldn't matter then what this slave does, Master ... whether to cry out or remain silent ... a-as you will do as you wish regardless."

"Ah, much better."

Mandas gave the rod a twist, and there was a slight tingle as the magic imbued within in changed. He whisked the rod back and forth in several long, brisk strokes. Freed from the climax-suppressing spell upon the rod, Amanda's pussy exploded into orgasm, a squirt of fluid splashing to the floor. Her hips jerked in time to her intense, throbbing pleasure. He mashed the rod against her still spasming cunt, her climax rising a second time, greeted with another smaller burst of fluid which dribbled down her thighs.

He removed the rod only when her orgasm had finally played out, leaving her a panting, weak mess. He whipped out a small handkerchief and wiped down the rod, then picked up his walking cane and reinserted the rod into it, restoring the head of the carved serpent with a twist of his wrist.

"Anyone can claim intelligence," Mandas said. "Especially where a slave is concerned. I needed proof."

Amanda almost asked him why, and she had to clamp her mouth shut to suppress the impulse. Mandas, however, noticed the slight twitch of her facial muscles and smirked.

"And you have proven you are thoroughly untrainable, perhaps because of your intelligence and Draughtless state."

"This slave is intelligent because she has--"

Mandas tapped her rear with the end of his cane. "Let us drop the pretenses. You no more want to avoid using the forbidden word than I want to hear you pretend at being a proper slave."

Amanda still believed this was a test, but now it no longer mattered to her. She considered his "criticisms" to be compliments, which foiled her attempts to loathe this man. "Very well, Master," Amanda said in an even though still breathy voice. "I am intelligent because I am Draughtless. The Draught inhibits intelligence."

"You need not tell me things I already know," said Mandas with a windy sigh. "You cannot possibly be happy in this situation."

"It is not for me to be happy or unhappy, Master."

"Ah, yes, that's right. You consider yourself to be such a splendid actress. Do you realize you are the slave of an Ambassador? Admittedly one of the most uncultured we have had inside a millennium, but an Ambassador nonetheless. It is little wonder he has not sold you yet."

Amanda thought to inform him she had wondered the same thing, but she did not want to give him any more leverage than he already had.

Mandas tapped his cane against the floor. "Nothing to say to that?"

"No, Master."

"Even if I told you that you could say anything and that it would never leave this room?"

Amanda refrained from commenting that she doubted he would keep any promise he made to her. "No, Master."

"Why?"

"Because it would do little good, Master. I will always be a slave as long as I am here in the Urisi Nation."

Mandas' lips curled into a shark-like smile. "Yes. As long as you are in the Urisi Nation."

Amanda did not dare reply, nor pay any mind to the wild thought that had entered her head from the perceived inflection of his voice.

"What if I could offer you an opportunity to return to Oceanus?"

Amanda clenched her teeth, and now she could give free reign to her hatred of this man. To be teased with such an impossibility was an insult to her -- yes, to her intelligence -- and she believed he had intended such insult.

Amanda yelped when Mandas slapped her ass cheek with his hand. Unlike with the rod, this pain lingered and burned. "You may be only acting the part of a slave, but I expect you to obey me nonetheless. Now answer my question."

"I would not take it, Master," said Amanda in a clipped tone.

"Ah, yes, I see. You suspect some sort of trap. Or that this is an elaborate test of some sort. Very well. Do not accept it just yet. But consider the possibility."

Amanda did not want to pursue this. It had to be a dead end. Nothing in the Urisi culture could even begin to allow Mandas to orchestrate an escape for her. Moreover, to what would she return? Her Overlord's Manor was gone. She had no idea who had purchased Sirinna or where she had been taken. Lanno likely got himself another Healer assignment and Vanlo had retired.

And it was unlikely he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart.

"You want something from me, Master," said Amanda, trembling at her own boldness.

Mandas chuckled. "Oh, very good. You are more clever than I gave you credit for."

Amanda cringed at the word "clever." The man who had destroyed everything she held dear in Oceanus had called her that when he had played at caring for her. She doubted she could ever see the word in a positive light anymore.

"I would not be so insane as to arrange for the escape of a slave unless there was something I could get in return. And I most assuredly intend to get something in return from you."

"I don't know what I could possibly do for you, Master."

Mandas considered. "Yes, you sound sincere. You really don't know. I will inform you in good time. All I need from you right now is a promise that you will keep everything we have said in confidence. In fact, you will never admit I even entered your chamber."

Amanda remained silent. She flinched when he slapped her bottom again.

"And do not ponder what you could gain from telling Norlan. It will do you little good. He cannot loathe me any more than he already does, and I will not get in any serious trouble for it. And you will lose whatever tiny possibility you had for freedom."

Amanda did not know what freedom meant anymore. No matter where she went, she would be subjected to some form of servitude. She had another reason to hate this man: he was another reminder of how limited her options were in this world. "You do not offer me a real choice, Master," said Amanda.

"Do not be foolish. There are always choices. You can choose to do nothing for me, in which case your status will be unchanged, other than Norlan will eventually grow tired of your untrainability and sell you. Or perhaps turn you over to the slavemasters for more training which will never take."

Amanda closed her eyes. The Farviewing pearl entombed in Mage Glass appeared in her thoughts despite her attempts to push it aside. "How do you know you can trust a promise made by an untrainable slave, Master?"

Mandas spanked her until she whimpered and her hips writhed. Her ass cheeks glowed faintly reddish-pink. "I did not give you permission to be insolent, but I will answer anyway. It is my business to know when someone is lying to me, or when someone is being duplicitous or ingenuous. I get no such sense from you. And you are desperate enough to play along if there is even a remote possibility that I can provide for your freedom."

"I promise, Master," Amanda said in a quavering voice.

"Promise what? Be specific. You cannot use vagueness with an Ambassador."

"I promise I will reveal nothing of this conversation to anyone."

She flinched when he slapped her ass one more time. "Almost. Try again."

Her mind raced. "I promise ... I-I will reveal nothing of your presence here or of this conversation, Master."

Mandas considered, then nodded. "That is acceptable. Now, I will allow you one question before I take my leave of you."

Amanda did not have to think for very long. "Please tell me something of what you want from me, Master."

"Hmm. Perhaps I should reveal a bit to you. Perhaps it will convince you I am sincere."

Amanda doubted it would do anything of the sort. There was little any Urisi high-born could say that would let her trust him. But she craved information in the hope that she would feel a little less isolated.

"A fleet of the Oceanus navy sits in a Urisi port," said Mandas. "They are a rogue fleet, having broken with the Oceanus Imperium. We are to decide what to do with them."

Amanda's eyes widened. A rogue fleet? Was there actual resistance to the Inonni takeover? Amanda had never considered the navy would do anything, since their loyalties supposedly lay with whomever sat upon the throne.

Amanda fought to contain any foolish hopes. If the fleet had escaped from the Inonni regime, there was little chance it would be going back. Nonetheless, it intrigued her. She had something to anticipate again.

Mandas stepped towards the curtained entrance. "I will be ... in touch ... with you again soon."

He smiled and parted the curtain to a crackle of magic. The curtain fell back into place in his wake and became still as the privacy magic reestablished itself.

Feedback

Did you like this story? Hate it? Printed it and lined the birdcage with it?

Please take a moment to send me some comments about this story. Your comments may remain anonymous if you prefer, or you can include an email address in your comments if you wish a reply.

Since this is a multi-part story, you may wait until the last chapter to send feedback about the story as a whole if you wish.