Empire Of Pleasures Ch. 02

Chapter Two: The Harlot-Slave

Tah-ri bowed low as her master entered the tent. "Nightfall greets you well, Great General Jor-Gal-Hu-ri."

A bold lie. General Jor looked tired, ragged, irritable. His heavy steel armor bore many new scratches and was nearly painted over in spatters of caked dust.

But harlot-slaves did not speak ill of their master no matter the truth, if they wanted to avoid quivering in agony under the lash. Jor had never done that to her, but enough past masters had, so she had no desire to risk such punishment from him.

He sighed wearily. "Is my bath ready?"

She bowed. "Yes, great lord, but it may not be as warm as you like. I did not expect you so late. I always do my best to anticipate your needs, but..."

Jor grunted noncommittally. "I suppose I should be grateful I have a bath at all, this far from the One Ocean. One of the sacrifices of the battlefield. Help me off with this armor, Tah-ri."

She moved quickly to obey, careful not to let her master see her momentary scowl. Helping him with his armor was supposed to be the task of Fha-Ke-ri, his page, who was doubtless off on another over-night errand for the general. The boy would soon be able to out-pace an elk with all the running the general had him do these past weeks.

Stripping the general was a sweaty, time-consuming job. The heavy armor had been acquired at no small expense from a Darlani merchant, who had to send away for experts through the Gate to his homeworld of Ximenes to complete the task of custom-fitting it to Jor's physique. The metal and craftsmanship was far and away superior to anything that had ever been produced here on Zanrina. Why, the metal did not even rust!

But then, everything of any real worth came from off-world nowadays. The imperial powers of the worlds of Tao and Ximenes commanded the best craftsmen, smiths, and mages on all the Eleven Worlds, and used them to forge powerful trading monopolies in other, less-advanced realms.

Her outfit was also from off-world, forged by an artificer Mage from Tao. Beads and minor jewels spiraled down her body and one leg on single gossamer-like string, with stylized flanges of pewter and steel strategically placed to barely cover her nipples and nether regions. Thankfully, it possessed a minor dweomer that allowed it to effortlessly cling to her body; otherwise she would pop out of it every time she took a deep breath.

It also served the function of clearly displaying the twin tattoos on her shoulder blades that marked her not only as a harlot-slave but as property of the house of ri.

Tah-ri carefully took the sword from her master, propping it up against the map-table. Three feet long with a simple cross-bar guard and a long handle, this was one artifact that did not come from off-worlders. Handed down for generations in the ri family, it was rumored to be magical, bestowing upon its bearer unusual skill and striking power. The metal tingled under her fingers as she propped it up against the general's map-table.

When Jor was finally nude and satisfied his armor was properly stored for the night, he quickly immersed himself in the broad wooden tub. Tah-ri had painstakingly brought the water to the tub a single waterskin at a time from the nearby spring that fed this small oasis that served as the forward camp for Jor and his men. She had dutifully tended the small fire underneath, keeping the water at a pleasant temperature, until she ran out of the general's allotment of firewood for the day. This far from the One Ocean, wood was almost as rare as open water, and not even the Potentate's top military man could afford to waste too much frivolously. In the morning, the horses and other beasts in the retinue would be given the remaining bath water as part of their rations.

Jor stood up again, water cascading off him, and Tah-ri moved quickly to scrub and lather down his body with crushed soap flowers. One secret to avoiding the lash is to anticipate a master's needs without being told.

Her hands moved efficiently up and down his body, hardened to steely proportions by decades on the battlefield. This was one duty she did not mind at all; feeling his taut muscles gliding under her fingers always pleased her. Jor was so powerful, in so many exciting ways.

Her soap-covered hands eventually found their way to his manhood, stroking up and down its length. It hardened swiftly. A pleasant tingling sparked in her folds as she worked his shaft in her palms.

She wondered idly if her master knew how physically magnificent he was. She had seen and handled many male hafts since coming of age, but none had ever compared to Jor's. Over two of her hand-spans long, and so thick she could barely encircle her fingers around it. She wondered idly if its size had been enhanced by sorcery. She had heard of some of the high landholders doing that. Not that she minded, if it were true. She shivered as she remembered all the nights of incredible pleasure his member had given her...

She tore herself away from his manhood and soaped up his sack, which elicited a low moan from his throat. When she finished his legs he immersed himself again. He lay back against the side of the tub and Tah-ri began cleansing his stubly hair. Both were acutely aware of the head of his erection bobbing just above the water's surface, but ignored it for the moment. Jor liked to anticipate his sex.

"The nomads are devils, Tah-ri," he muttered after dunking himself to rinse his scalp. "Something or someone is stirring them up. I am almost sure it is that new off-world fop Entos. If only I had proof. I can never understand why the Potentate chose to give a clanless alien like him-a Ximenian, at that-overlordship of the Ki-nar-ii Valley. Water is precious enough this far from the One Ocean without a scheming devil like him controlling one of the few major oases out here. But one private negotiating session with him, and somehow that off-world devil got the Potentate to award him an entire fief..."

Jor scowled for a few moments, then continued. "Be that as it may, we thought we had the nomad scum today. We pursued them half-way across the Great Desert, it seemed, only to be led right into an ambush."

"Oh, no, my lord!" Tah-ri gasped, trying to sound sufficiently horrified. "I trust you soundly defeated them, no matter their treachery."

"Aye, but it was much more difficult than it should have been. They had magics my mages had difficulty countering." His countenance darkened. "Off-world magics, I am sure of it! I lost over a hundred of my best men. A hundred!"

"I'm sure you will pay them back a dozen times over for such humiliation, great general."

He spun toward her, an acid scowl painting his features. Tah-ri knew instantly that she had said exactly the wrong thing. "Humiliation?" he growled, grabbing a fistful of her long blond hair. "I will show you humiliation, slave!" He pulled her roughly into the tub with him with a loud splash.

"M-my lord!" She quavered, shedding tears of pain as he wrenched her hair. She was terrified that he was so angry that he would drown her.

Instead, sitting up, he brought her head to his crotch. "Suck me, slave. Give me a reason not to have you lashed."

She responded by instantly taking as much of his shaft into her mouth as she could. Her tongue molded itself around the sensitive head, eliciting a loud groan from her master.

It was her fault. All her fault! She should have been more careful with her words!

She bobbed her head slowly up and down, sucking hard on each upstroke. He loosened the grip on her hair and instead began stroking her head in time with her rhythm.

Jor was a great man, a powerful man, one of the most important in all the Potentate! Why should he tolerate the unintentional insults of a lowly harlot slave? He had every right to use her in any way he saw fit!

But, Seasons, she did not want to feel the lash! She would do anything not to feel that kind of pain again!

Jor throbbed powerfully between her lips, and she tasted salt as a small drop of his male gift escaped. The general began growling again, but this time in pleasure, not anger.

Tah-ri removed the coverings from her breasts and pressed her hardened nipples against his thighs. One hand cupped and massaged his sack-growing heavier by the second-while the other moved behind it, into his nether opening. He began to thrust his hot organ powerfully in and out of her, as his growls turned into guttural shouts every time he hit the back of her throat.

Seasons, the way he just used her made her burn! The friction of her nipples against his bare skin was driving her insane. If only she could spare a hand for her own pleasure...

Finally, Jor grabbed her head and held it immobile as he buried himself in her as far as he could go. He screamed as he jetted his first pulse of seed into her. Tah-ri gulped at the hot liquid greedily, sucking hard at each spurt as she milked it from his shaft.

When he was fully spent she popped his member from her mouth. She was finally able to slip the fingers of one hand toward her own crotch, making her gasp as contact was made with the sensitive flesh. She fearfully looked up at him. "Did--did I please you, Great General?"

His eyes held a dreamy look until he noticed what she was doing. Then his scowl returned. "Tell me, Tah-ri, do you burn with desire?"

"Yes, my lord. My folds burn to feel you in them." Her fingers redoubled their efforts at the thought. She slowly rose out of the tepid water, with the intent of impaling herself on his still-erect organ. "Seasons, they burn so hot for you..."

"Turn around. Place your hands on the rim of the tub."

Surprised at first, she hesitantly did as he bade her. Looking over her shoulder up at him, she asked, "My lord, what...?"

Without warning he thrust one finger deep within her womanhood. She shuddered at the exquisite sensation. But as pleasant as the action was, it was not what she desired most. "Please, my lord, I beg you, ram yourself into my gates. Take me, as my Master should. Oh, Seasons, please..."

"Silence!" he commanded as he withdrew the finger and immediately plunged it to the hilt into her anus. She gasped in shock. She was hardly a virgin there-past masters had made sure of that-but Jor had never been aroused by such games. In the year since he had purchased her, he had never once penetrated her there.

She looked back as he removed his finger and saw him rubbing his shaft generously with crushed soap-flowers. Thoroughly lubricated, he spread her rounded buttocks with his hands and brought his throbbing manhood to her nether opening.

He hesitated on the verge of penetration. "Do you want this, slave?"

"Master?"

"You may answer honestly without fear of reprisals. Do you want me this way?"

She hesitated. He had asked that only once before, on the very first night she had been brought to him. He made it clear that she could say no, if she wanted. If so, she would be assigned to the kitchens or to the stables, and would not be bothered by his sexual advances ever again. But if she said yes, she would have to give herself over to him completely, be available at all times, to pleasure him unhesitatingly at his whim.

She had been taken aback. No master in her young life had ever given her a chance to decide her own fate! Her head swirled with the possibilities. To no longer have her body used for someone else' convenience, whether she liked it or not. To do work-even a slave's work-that had meaning and worth beyond the momentary throbbing of her master's penis...

But she had said yes to him. She had no skills at anything save lovemaking. Any slave's lifespan could be miserably short, but at least a harlot-slave's had more material comforts than her mundane peers.

She realized later that those arguments had been mere rationalizations. In truth, she had said yes to Jor because he was the most incredibly exciting man she had ever met, with confidence and intelligence sparkling behind his eyes that few men in her experience had ever possessed. But more than that, he had given her a choice, a brief moment of true freedom! The greatest gift any master had ever presented her.

Later on that first night with him, when she felt his rough soldier's hands gently but insistently exploring her body, she knew she had chosen the right path...

"Yes, great general," she answered. "Please, take me wherever you wish. I am the property of the House of ri. I am yours, always."

He was pleased by her answer. He grabbed her hips and slowly began to push forward. Tah-ri grunted as the shaft slowly made its way inside. She was out of practice at such techniques. It was not painful, not exactly, but it did cause her some discomfort.

Slowly, as she relaxed her anal ring, the sensations began to turn pleasant. His manhood was so hot, his movements so insistent. The way he lusted for her sent shivers down her spine. She moved one hand down to her sex...

"Hands on the tub, slave!" he growled, the harsh edge to his voice suddenly returning. "Move them again without permission and its the lash!"

"Yes, master!" she squeaked.

Finally, his steady thrusting buried him in her to the hilt. No longer gentle, he began positioning into her with wild abandon, grunting and growling at the tightness of her. Tah-ri's groans joined his, the warm water of the broad wooden tub rhythmically splashing over the sides in small waves. The liquid swishing back and forth over her sensitive nub made her loins burn all the hotter. Mother of the Seasons, she longed to rub her inflamed sex against something. Anything! The feelings he was filling her with were quickly turning unbearable.

Having already spent once, Jor lasted an incredibly long time, but eventually the sensations became too much for even his stamina. He pulled almost out of her, making her cry in anguish, before thrusting into her one final time, his hips slapping hard against her quivering moons. He cried out in primal ecstasy as his male gift splashed hard into her rectum.

Tah-ri cried out too, as much in frustration as pleasure. She desperately thrust her hips back at him, trying to rub her sex against his leg, his sack, anything with which she could relieve the sexual tension burning so hotly in her. Seasons, his seed was so hot as it seeped out of her around his member...

Jor remained in her until he was fully spent, then slowly withdrew. When his manhood finally exited her with a muffled slurp, she felt incredibly empty. She looked back at him, eyes imploring as she emphatically pushed her sex back at him. "M-master, Great General, please, I am so close. C-could you... Oh, please..."

With a loud splash the general straightened to his full height and stepped out of the tub. Grabbing both her wrists in one large fist, Jor dragged Tah-ri out after him. She barely retained her balance as she stumbled over the side and hobbled after him, her legs still trembling with hard desire.

Jor grabbed up a rough length of rope and quickly lashed her hands to the thick central tent pole. She was tied in such a way that her fingers were immobile and interlocked, wrapped around the pole. Jor then roughly sat her down on the ground. She looked up at him, pleadingly. Was she to be lashed after all?

Jor squatted next to her, a hand immediately descending to her sex. He caressed her folds and licked her ear long and lovingly. Tah-ri arced her back, trying to lean into both his hands and tongue at the same time. "Oh, yes, great master! Aaah. AAH! Seasons, so close..."

He suddenly withdrew and stood up. "No!" she cried. Only another heartbeat, maybe two, and she would have been over the edge!

"You are a good slave, Tah-ri," the general said quietly, almost gently. "A thoughtful servant and an exceptional lover. But you must learn to control your words. I know it was just a slip of the tongue, but if you had called my defeat a 'humiliation' in front of anyone at court, I could have lost a great deal of face."

"Master, please forgive me! No one else heard! A minor transgression, surely..."

He nodded. "I know. And that is why you receive a minor punishment only. You will remain there, your desires unquenched, until I decide whether you've learned your lesson in the morning. You cannot use your hands tied as they are, and I do not recommend using the pole-it was cut only a few days ago and is still quite rough." He moved a brazier laden with fire coals close to her for warmth, then bent down to kiss her gently on the forehead. "A fair night to you, harlot-slave."

"Master..." was all she could whisper as he turned away from her and buried himself in his sleeping furs on the far side of the tent.