0 - 0 - 4 - 00:06 - Pet

A tall, blonde two-legged who Pet identified as the Fierce One due to her challenging stare and threatening movements yanked on Pet’s leash making her stumble slightly across some loose rocks. Pet looked up at her with a sneer to which the Fierce One simply growled out a string of cruel sounding vocalizations. She pointed to a spot in the shade of a short overhang where once water must have swirled indicating that Pet should do her business.

The caravan had been traveling the same dusty trail along the long dead river bed for days. Pet wished that she had a better view as the moving caves bounced along, stopping frequently to get the transports over gaps where the trail had fallen into disrepair. The journey was tedious and the endless dry, gray rolling hills were mind-numbing. But still, it would be better to at least be able to see them roll by. Instead Pet was kept locked in her kennel except when the caravan stopped and she was walked by the Fierce One.

It was obvious that the Fierce One was not very excited by her assignment and tended to treat Pet harshly - jerking on her leash, dragging Pet from dirty hillock to small, rocky overhangs.

In the evenings Pet’s leash was usually tied to a stake pounded into a rock where she was left alone to wallow in the dust. Meanwhile the standing ones would busy themselves around a fire, burning something, the smoke from which made Pet’s stomach rumble with hunger when the wind blew her way.

Loneliness. There were no others like Pet. Sure, there were other animals that walked on four legs like she, but they were much bigger and surprisingly skittish. The two legged creatures like the Fierce One were similar in size and shape, but they were different than Pet. Those differences filled her with wonder. Their strange vocalizations, noisily chirping back and forth between one another… Their strange and colorful furs that they wore and removed and doused with water to remove their smells… The strange artifacts that they wielded with paws so magically flexible and dextrous…

At night sometimes, Pet dreamed of manipulating magical implements and walking on two legs. She dreamed of an illusory familiarity with unknowable objects like somehow in the distant past she had been able use them, though she could not think of any reason why she would want to. She dreamed of spouting the vocalizations. Once upon waking she even made a vocalization similar in tenor with the two-leggeds which caused the Regal One some concern - causing her to coo back. Pet liked the sound of her vocalizations. They made her feel strangely calmed and energized at the same time - a delicious urgency. But she had no interest in vocalizing on her own. It was tedious and useless. Why make a noise unless it was for a purpose.

The Regal One, or the Alpha as Pet thought of her... she had come the previous evening and sat on a stone near where Pet lay in the dirt tethered to the stake. She had a toothed implement that she dragged through the tangles of Pet’s long hair. Occasionally, the pulling and yanking had been a little painful, but as her locks aligned and the pull of her hair was less sharp tearing jerks and more generalized gentle tugs, Pet felt the urgency that existed deep inside of her build to new levels - a missing thing that she needed to have applied within her core somehow.

Certainly, the Regal One knew of urgencies. She must! Pet had let her head rest in the Regal One’s lap, and shortly, in a lull, she nuzzled between the Regal One’s legs and licked a patch of bare flesh where the furs had fallen away. Salt and dust and spices and, yes, urgency.

The Regal One had yipped and let forth a musical vocalization, but she pulled her legs together and covered herself more securely in furs. She then used her hands to smooth Pet’s hair over her head and behind her ears. She had pulled Pet’s head close to her bosom and hugged her, rocking slightly. Pet could hear the Alpha’s heart beat. She could feel the pulsing against her cheek. It reverberated through her to her very core - each thump of her heart passed into Pet and fed her urgency.

Pet’s reverie had been broken when the Alpha sucked in a quick fast breath, a sob. When Pet looked up she saw a tear leak from the Alpha’s eye, which Pet quickly licked away, and the Alpha’s musical vocalization returned as she playfully pushed Pet away from her smiling face.

At night, Pet would awaken and watch through the gridded bars of her kennel as the Alpha slept peacefully. She would press the cold orb of her front paw gently between her legs and let it dance with the stirring urgency within her core...

Pet felt a yank on her leash and she was pulled from her thoughts and the place she was squating. The Fierce One had become impatient and wanted to lead Pet back into the dreary darkness of the moving cave. Pet resisted a little, though she had little leverage while being led by the collar around her neck. She simply wanted to show her own unhappiness.

The Fierce One was dragging Pet back across the ancient river bed when they found themselves on a smooth rounded boulder polished by the waters that had once run through. It’s surface was slick and the rounded orbs that terminated Pet’s paws lost their traction. Pet slipped and slid across the stone, over the edge and down a short drop. The Fierce One had the leash wrapped tightly around her wrist and was suddenly pulled as Pet went over the edge. Apparently her foot coverings provided little grip. She yelped and came tumbling over the edge as well, first landing on top of Pet and then rolling to the side.

The Fierce One was stunned by the fall - facing away from Pet whose teeth bared and eyes flared. When the Fierce One reacted, it was already too late. Pet had jumped into the air, her front leg raised, her hard orbed paw held high over head. The Fierce One shrieked and tried to roll away, but Pet’s paw fell hard against the side of her head with a resounding thunk.

Pet heard loud shouts and looked up to see a swarm of two leggeds running towards her. Some carried long pointed sticks, while others had shorter stout clubs. She looked down a the Fierce One, whose head was already beginning to swell and the skin had split where Pet had made contact. She was moving, but only feebly. The two-leggeds were not happy. Pet knew that they were going to hurt her. Really badly.

Suddenly, behind her, she heard the one vocalization that made any sense to her. “Pet!” She knew who had made the sound too. The Alpha. Pet turned and started to run towards that voice, scrambling along on all fours. Bound as she was, she did not have the grace and beauty of an animal in motion, but still, the animal that had been magicked into her had tightened its grip upon her, imbuing her with a surprising degree of speed. No doubt, the two-leggeds would catch her, but not as easily as they may have thought.

Pet saw the surprise in the Alpha’s eyes as she barrelled towards her, clomping across the rocks and sand. The surprise slowly turned to uncertainty, and then, perhaps, a broad stroke of fear.

Pet was afraid too. She heard the two-leggeds yelling at her - quickly gaining on her. Certainly, the Alpha would protect her. If she could just get into her arms. She leapt and wrapped her front legs around the Alpha’s waist, unfortunately knocking her down. The Alpha screamed and twisted onto her hands and knees, scrambling to get out from under Pet. She sensed the Alpha’s distress. Pet had frightened her.

She reached up further along the Alpha’s body, hooking a leg over one of her shoulders, but she couldn’t grab well with her orb shaped paws. The Alpha had collapsed into the dust under Pet’s weight, which gave Pet the chance to advance further up the Alpha’s body. She just wanted to look her in the eye and let her know that she meant no harm. The Alpha began to struggle to shake Pet off, so Pet used her mouth to grab onto the Alpha, biting into the muscle of the Alpha’s shoulder over her collarbone near her neck where her furs had pulled to the side exposing skin.

The Alpha screamed in pain jerking away from Pet, ripping the skin of her shoulder from between Pet’s teeth. There were footsteps all around and Pet sat up, realizing that the Alpha was not in the best position to protect her lying face down on the ground with blood beginning to ooze from the place where Pet had bit her.

Pet saw a shadow and heard the grunt of a two-legged poised above her. She felt a painful impact on the side of her head that made everything flash white. She fell onto her side, the world spinning around. She tried to sit up but everything faded into black.

0 - 0 - 4 - 05:44 - Evanescent

Evanescent slid the picture of Slave P-346-Karma across the table. She looked at the small gray-clad woman who twisted the picture around and began to study Evanescent’s work. She was cute. No great beauty, for sure, but cute. From many angles, it was hard to tell whether Aife was a woman or a short teen-aged boy. She did not have a womanly shape. She was distinctly underendowed. She never wore clothes that tried to advertise her gender in any way. However, there was no doubt when one looked at her face. It was narrow and angular, framed by wisps of jet-black hair that randomly poked out from underneath the gray hood she always seemed to wear, coming down to thin, but feminine lips and a delicate chin. Above, her eyes were big and inquisitive and strikingly light blue.

The only other flesh Evanescent had ever seen exposed on Aife was her fingers which poked from fingerless gloves. They looked so small and delicate, yet Evanescent knew that those fingers had been used to kill before.

Evanescent looked at her own hands. They were much bigger than Aife’s. Of course, she was a full head taller than the petite woman. Still, her hands had never killed. Not even by casting a spell upon someone. Could she kill another person? Morgana, the Queen’s Witch, had certainly killed before. Is that something that Evanescent would need to do? Could she do it?

“It’s an incredible drawing. Did you do this all from memory?” Aife asked.

“No, we have some, uh… sketches and such of many of the more beautiful slaves in the palace,” Evanescent said. “Marketing purposes.” It was true, though she could not tell Aife about the actual pictorial reference - the canvas used to control the Crown’s Concern virus that P-346 carried.

“Well, it will be nice to use this when Zeigh and I retrace her steps on the day she disappeared. I think that we are both getting weary of consulting various metaphysicians,” Aife said as she took a sip of tea.

“Did you get anything from them?” Evanescent asked.

“I’m not too hopeful, actually,” Aife said. “Many seemed to suggest that she was alive, although most also seemed to suggest that if she is alive, then she is living a very limited existence. No one suggested any sort of sensory data that you often get. No visuals. One may have said something about smelling fresh water, but… Often, I’ve found, the oracles and seers and mediums will say someone is alive simply to get you to come back and pay them more money.” Aife took another sip. “There was one witch - she sees things through a familiar - a bird, I think - she described a specific scene where a woman was buried in the desert. I’m afraid that… well… I’m betting Karma is dead… Regardless, she described a steam truck used for the abduction in fair detail. I’m keeping my eyes out for it.”

“Morgana seems to think that you are wasting your time,” Evanescent said.

“Yeah? Is she tracking me?” Aife frowned.

“More specifically,” Evanescent said pointing towards the front of the restaurant in which they were sitting, “she wants her slave back.”

“Her slave?” Aife asked turning to look.

None of the fancier restaurants in Cowen would allow women to dine unless accompanied by male chaperones. Still, this particular restaurant was nice enough to cater towards women of some means - women with enough wealth to be accompanied by their slaves. Through a doorway near the entrance of the restaurant was a room filled with kennel-sized cages where slaves could be stored while their owners dined. Zeigh was currently housed in one of the kennels. Aife had felt uncomfortable about the idea of treating Zeigh in this manner, but she needed to keep up with appearances.

Aife could just barely see the bars of one of the kennels through the door. She turned back to Evanescent. “Zeigh was the Princess’ slave and she was emancipated, I believe.”

“No,” Evanescent said. “She was not emancipated because she was considered too incompetent to survive outside of slavery. Besides, Morgana has recalled the emancipation - citing the Princess’ proclamation as reckless and a breach of crown secrets. Do you want this slave for some reason, Aife? I never saw you as a slave owner.”

“Oh, hell no!” Aife said. “I have no desire at all. You know that I find the practice completely abhorrent! Besides, Zeigh has to be one of the most annoying people that I have ever encountered.”

Evanescent laughed, “I researched her a little. Your sentiments seem to be aligned with the common consensus.”

“Yeah, she seems to have a mental disability that prevents her from being able to shut her mouth,” Aife explained. “I mean, the more precarious the situation, the more she continues to just blather on and on. I have to hold her mouth shut sometimes. Sometimes she wakes me up in the middle of the night because she even talks in her sleep.”

“You’re sleeping with her?”

“No! She sleeps in a trunk at the end of the bed.”

“Does she?” Evanescent said with a teasing smile.

“And she doesn’t quite have a concept about what is and what is not food,” Aife continued, ignoring Evanescent. “She eats trash. She ate some candles, some soap… I once caught her drinking tea from an old chamber pot. Another time, I confronted her about eating bugs as several large, brown chitinous legs wiggled between her lips. I’m afraid to leave kerosene lying around. She might poison herself.”

Evanescent continued to laugh. “When she became of age apparently, she was used, upon occasion, as a sex slave. Her reviews were horrid. They quickly learned to send her out gagged. There was even some consideration to cut out her tongue, but apparently the Princess forbade that. Regardless, despite her beauty, her performance with the men was utterly uninspiring. In fact, she often was returned physically abused in some way - often requiring time in the medical ward. The kitchen staff banned her from stepping foot in their wing and the gardening staff threatened to compost her if they had to deal with her anymore. Luckily, for her own life, I suppose, she excels at unclogging sewage lines and cleaning dead rats from the castle ventilation ducts. They would just shove her through a vent, lock the grill behind her and she would go off for a few days slithering around between the walls. She never complained and issues always were resolved, so...”

“Yeah?” Aife said. “That’s probably why Morgana wants Zeigh back. The old hag probably has a pack of rats living up her ass.”

They laughed together for a moment. Evanescent watched Aife’s rare smile slowly dissolve to a frown.

“Despite all those flaws, there’s something so innocent about Zeigh. Something pure and untarnishable. I’m worried about sending her back to the castle. Apparently, Slave Karma protected her from a lot of abuse. Without someone like Karma watching out for her, I’m afraid she’ll end up being euthanized.”

Evanescent nodded. “Or worse,” she mumbled under her breath as a vision of Kapitolina flashed in her mind with her spiked hands held aloft by chains anchored from the high ceiling of a dark dungeon cell. “Well, keep her until you resolve the Karma issue, but then you’ll need to send her back. You don’t want Morgana as an enemy.”

“Yeah,” Aife agreed staring at the picture of Karma, lost in thought.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many words at one time. Maybe she’s wearing off on you,” Evanescent said, smiling. “You’re so animated.”

“Get stuck with Zeigh for a few hours and you will begin to conceive why she gets beaten by her johns,” Aife said, shrugging her shoulders. “Luckily, I’ve found that humanity keeps me from doing it myself. Her fucking mouth!”

“Gag her,” Evanescent said.

“Ha! I don’t own a gag. Besides, she’d probably eat it.”

“Buy one for her,” Evanescent suggested. “It might actually help her relax. She might need a gag on occasion just as a relief from this apparent vocal affliction.”

“Hmpf! Hopefully, we’ll find this steam truck and get some closure on this Karma slave fairly quickly. Then I’ll figure out what to do with her,” Aife rubbed her thumb along the rim of the tea cup.

“Yeah. Just send her back to the castle, please. The Princess and I will need your help with other things over the next year. It’ll be easier if you are not being hunted down by Morgana. There will be bigger things to deal with than protecting a single, defective slave girl.”

Aife looked up at Evanescent, frowning, but said nothing. Evanescent had turned and signaled to two large male castle guards sitting three tables away. She turned back and put money on the table to pay the bill. “Speaking of bigger things… Are you going to the Chastening Ceremony?”

“And watch another innocent girl be used as a pawn by lazy politicians and oligarchs? Fuck that.”

“Well, regardless of whether the candidates are innocent or not, they are daughters of the richest families in Cowan. I’m sure that whoever is chosen will be treated quite royally and freedom is only four years away.”

“Whatever…” Aife said, standing up. “Thanks for the picture. And the dinner. I better go feed Zeigh something - maybe an old leather shoe.”

0 - 0 - 4 - 07:49 - Aife

“... and two more things that are always on my mind are the misuse of the words then and than and piercings. I have never had any piercings… I mean not intentionally like Karma who gets something new with every full moon, it seems… but, I’ve been pierced by needles and spikes and stuff on my back and breasts and here along my inner thighs…”

Zeigh was sitting on the kitchen floor wearing only her collar and leash eating some bread and cheese that Aife ensured had been extracted from its wax covering. Her slave robe was drying out in the bathroom. She said that other slaves in the kennels had sprayed her with their water bottles.

“... and the nobleman embedded so many of the rings, first one side, then the other, all the way down to my knee. I had to slither back down the hall like a mermaid out of water… Look! You can see the scars still…”

Aife made Zeigh wash the robe thoroughly because she was not convinced that the slaves had soaked her with only water.

“... and that’s the danger of mistaking the words ‘then’ and ‘than’. You could say, ‘I’d rather get my nipples pierced THEN my lips’ but what you really meant to say is ‘I’d rather get my nipples pierced THAN my lips’. One simple slip and you’ve signed up for a whole different piercing package…”

Aife sighed and looked down at the picture of Slave Karma with all her piercings. She certainly had no problem with needles.

“... and what if there were two sisters who were identical twins and they were named THEN and THAN and they went to get piercings. Just think of the confusion! Their conversation might go something like this: ‘I’d rather pierce my nips, THAN, then pierce my lips. You?’ ‘No, THEN, I’d rather pierce my nips than pierce my lips.’ So, the piercer pierces first THAN’s nips and then THEN’s lips. But, when it’s time for THEN’s nips, THAN decides to pierce her lips. ‘Back then, THAN, you said only nips?’ ‘But then, THEN, we’d not be identical twins.’ So, the piercer pierced THAN then THEN again…”

Aife sighed again and flipped the picture of Slave Karma over and looked to where Evanescent had written the address of The Dungeon Gear Emporium - purveyors of the best quality gags in all of Cowen. She rested her head on her arms as Zeigh’s voice droned on.

“...and I have no idea. So, what exactly is a Chastening Ceremony?”

Aife looked up. Had she fallen asleep? Zeigh was still kneeling naked on the floor. She had wrapped her leash over her right shoulder. The links looped around her back and hung lazily over her left thigh before dropping between her legs. Zeigh had clasped her arms behind her back, each hand holding the opposing elbow, and sat staring at Aife with an expectant look on her face. Her long curly brown hair was twisted into a wild, loose ponytail draped over her left shoulder - wisps sticking off in all directions. Light from the two candles danced in her eyes and the metal surface of her slave collar. Aife’s eyes began to wander down to her chest where her breasts were thrust out by the placement of her arms - a sloppy implementation of a standard slave display pose.

“What?” Aife asked, suddenly realizing that she had been staring too long.

“A slave at the restaurant was saying that those Metal Nomads are here to perform something called a Chastening Ceremony. Do you know what that is?”

Aife was uncomfortable with her position at the table sitting over Zeigh, looking down at Zeigh’s naked body, so she slipped out of the chair and sat cross-legged on the floor trying to set a more equal dynamic between them. “Yes. I am familiar with the Chastening Ceremony.” She paused for a moment trying to determine how much she wanted to say.

“Many years ago when the Ailyan River first dried up, resources began to disappear. Back then, society supposedly agreed that all individuals should have equal rights despite gender, race, sexual orientation, disability, whatever… Whether this ideal was ever practiced is uncertain, but regardless, the idea crumbled under the stress of changes in the environment. Subjugated groups left Cowen in search of a better life with people with similar views. The same thing was happening throughout the region, perhaps even the entire world.”

“The world?” Zeigh asked.

“Yes. Everywhere,” Aife continued, not completely certain whether she had answered Zeigh’s question or what she was even asking. “So, women were one of those subjugated groups. They established a society of sorts on the west side of the Ailyan River. Idealistic women from Cowen would defect to the west and find that simply surviving out in the newly changed desert was extremely difficult. So, at the same time women would defect back to Cowen. Fertile women could be considered a resource - yet another which was beginning to run dry. So, abductions and human trafficking became a serious point of contention between Cowen and the western women. In fact, many of the slave women in Cowen today probably have ancestors who were stolen from the progenisys of the Metal Nomads. That is why there is much more racial diversity amongst the slave population.”

Zeigh seemed to have descended into some sort of trance, staring blankly at Aife as she spoke - hardly even breathing.

“So, to make a long story short,” Aife continued, “in order to avoid a drawn out war, which neither society could afford, it was agreed to establish a geographical buffer between the two groups and forever limit all trade. Cowen got the better deal as far as resources are concerned, and as an acknowledgement of that fact, and to forever remember the sacrifices made by the Metal Nomads, it was agreed that a single nobleman’s daughter, a virgin of marriageable age would be selected to be the ‘Last West Virgin’. She would be required to wear a chastity device for a term of four years until the next would be selected. The Metal Nomads hold the key to the West Virgin’s belt. Are you still with me, Zeigh?”

Zeigh’s head jerked slightly. “Oh, yes! I’m listening. I was just wondering if I came from the Metal Nomads... Do they have slaves? I heard that they put on their armor while they are still kids and they grow into it so it can never be removed… I like metal clothes. Have you noticed that they are shorter like you and me? I wonder what kinds of things slaves do for them... “

“Yeah. I don’t know,” Aife said.

“Are there any men? How do they have kids? Do they ever get rashes from poisonous plants? Do they eat the same kinds of food? Do they take baths?”

“Zeigh…”

“Do they carry around books or money or cloth bags? Do you think that they get cold in the winter?”

“Zeigh!” Aife leaned forward and placed her hand over Zeigh’s mouth. “Do you want me to tell you about the Chastening Ceremony?”

Zeigh’s mouth kept moving for a moment, muffled beneath Aife’s palm. She reached up and pressed Aife’s hand even more tightly against her lips and after a moment stopped trying to ask more questions. Finally, she nodded her head, ready to listen once again.

“Almost twelve years ago,” Aife explained, “when Princess Merkeza was 18 years old, she volunteered to become the ‘Last West Virgin’ and twice she has renewed her term.”

Zeigh pushed Aife’s palm away from her mouth. “So, she’s worn a chastity belt for over eight years?!” After she asked the question she pressed her mouth firmly back into Aife’s palm.

“It’s been over 11 years,” Aife said struggling to squash a smile that was trying to force its way across her face due to Zeigh’s antics. “That’s the thing! Her third term is coming to an end and the Queen has refused to let her wear it any longer because, obviously, she has arranged this marriage to Jensen, the Prince of Joppa-by-the-Sea.”

Aife reclaimed her hand, but took a moment to pushed an errant strand of curly hair from Zeigh’s face, twisting it in with the rest of the messy ponytail.

“Apparently, there are four eligible women who may take up the title of the ‘Last West Virgin’. Four women who are 18 years or older, virgins, and daughters of the upper echelon of Cowen citizens - daughters of oligarchs. The Metal Nomads will choose one and lock up her sex for… well, for four years. Meanwhile, the Princess still has the most part of a year to continue on until they return her key to her.”

“What…” Zeigh started to ask, but Aife quickly pressed her hand over her lips again.

“No. That’s enough for tonight. I need to wash up,” Aife said, finally removing her hand again.

“What should I do?” Zeigh asked.

“Why don’t you try to meditate?” Aife suggested. “Quietly... Without talking... Focus on one thing… Like maybe an apple or something…”

“You mean that red fruit?” Zeigh asked.

“Yes. They can be red or green or yellow,” Aife said. “Here. Sit cross-legged like I am sitting now.” Aife pulled Zeigh’s arms from behind her and helped unravel the chain leash as Zeigh repositioned her body.

“They can be brown too, right? I think that I had one once, but it was brown. They are kind of mushy and have wiggly bits inside?”

“Yeah… sure…” Aife said. “OK, shhh!”

Five minutes later as Aife was using a damp cloth to rub the dust and sand from her chest she could hear Zeigh babbling on in the next room.

0 - 0 - 4 - 09:42 - Ileana

“What is you name?” Ileana asked.

“Nothing, my Goddess,” the human woman, Nothing, replied.

“And who am I?”

“You are my provider. You give me food and air and life itself. You are my Goddess. You are the focus of my thoughts every moment that I am awake. When you are not with me, I can do nothing but look forward to your next visit,” Nothing replied. “I’m so happy that you are here.”

Ileana considered the human’s words for a moment. They seemed to be excessively deferent towards Ileana. Was this a form of mockery? Or perhaps, as a sex slave, this was her art - to slip into this ultra-submissive mode just to peak her temporary lover’s lust.


“Your touch, your smell, your taste, they are the only things that I have now,” Nothing continued. “And while they are more than all that I need, I find that I need them all the more.”

Ileana stroked her hand across Nothing’s face letting her thumb drag softly over her lips. The human woman opened her mouth and sucked Ileana’s thumb into her mouth.

“Have you forgotten your former human name yet?” Ileana asked.

She smiled as she watched Nothing struggle to answer the question. Both knew it would be a lie, if she were to say yes. But, that is what a temporary lover would want her to say, would it not?

“No,” Nothing whispered. So, she tells the truth. “I still remember my name. I’m sorry, Goddess.”

“Of course you have not forgotten your former name,” Ileana said. “Not yet. It is not an easy thing.”

“Well, I am getting used to the name you have chosen for me. And because you chose it, I will cherish it.”

Ileana let her hand slide from the woman’s face over her chest, briefly cupping her breast, feeling the human’s nipple quickly harden. Then she let it slide further down and rest gently on Nothing’s stomach.

“I… I do like when you touch me though, my Goddess,” Nothing said.

Ileana smiled and gently kissed the human woman’s cheek. “You said that you were following my rules because you wanted to survive. The reason you want to survive, you said, is for love. Well, what I want to know is… What possibly could a slave know about love? Tell me.”

“Oh! I believe that a slave like me has the possibility to know a lot about love,” Nothing said. “More than most probably.”

“But if you are a slave, then what freedom do you have to pursue love?” Illeana asked.

“Love is not something that you go out and capture,” Nothing said. “Love is something that you generate inside and shine out into the world around you.”

“What kind of love are you talking about when you say that? Maybe you and I have a different thought about what love is,” Illeana said. She watched the tide of heat move across the human’s skin in the dark, flooding towards her head as she became contemplative.

“I know about all kinds of love. Hmm… Let’s see… there’s friendship, um…familial love, flirtation, pragma and agape, there’s self love… uh… infatuation, admiration, desire… lionization, idolatry, zealotry, adulation…” The human woman’s eyes were darting back and forth in the darkness, glowing with growing passion as she talked. There was a flare of heat that suddenly lit, somewhere in her chest, somewhere lower too. “There’s eros, you know, sex, desire, tenderness and brutality, masochism, sadism, bondage and domination, submission. But also there’s passion and unconditional love, heart rending, big L love. That’s what I’m talking about. Big L Love!” She took a breath and frowned. “OK… I know nothing about motherly love, but… yeah. Goddess worship?”

“Hm. We shall see, I guess,” Ileana said. “But, which of these has inspired you to conform to my requirements regarding your behavior and disposition?”

“The Big L Love, of course,” Nothing said. “I didn’t believe in it at all, until it fell upon me. Sure, I love some people and I miss them painfully. But when I came upon the Big L Love, I found that it was more than just missing her when we were apart. I actually physically ache for her. My mind aches for her. My soul aches for her.”

“Ah. So, that sounds more like infatuation to me,” Ileana said. “Does this woman even know you exist?”

“Of course she does and she feels the same about me,” Nothing replied grimacing a little.

“Is she a slave or a free woman?”

“What does it matter? After all are there any free women?”

“Your stupid human customs are below me. I do not know how your species treat women. Most poorly, I imagine. Nor do I care,” Ileana growled. “What I am asking is… Can she come and go as she pleases? Or does she sit around chained to a wall awaiting for someone to command her to do something.”

“Generally she can come and go as she pleases, but still she has to follow strict rules and guidelines… A protocol,” Nothing said.

“So, she is a slave like you? What if she gets sold to another owner?” Ileana asked.

Nothing stopped talking. Her face slowly transforming into a frown. A tear slipped from her eye.

“So, she has already been sold to another owner? You are such a foolish human. Love is not available to you, slave. Even if you knew it, it is gone.” For some reason, this interaction was beginning to irritate Ileana. She could feel anger beginning to swirl in her belly. A sudden, sharp pain. This talk of Love! She felt her face set in anger. A frown locked the muscles of her face. “You will not survive down here. I will suffocate you now. A mercy killing to end your and my suffering!”

Ileana raised her hands to the human slave woman’s face. There was no way that her ward could avoid Ileana’s assault. No way to fight against the chains that held her so immobile. Ileana watched Nothing’s eyes closely as her fingers tightly pinched Nothing’s nose, her hand muffling the words that Nothing started to try to speak. Nothing’s eyes stared blindly into the darkness, first in fear, but then her gaze seemed to transform into anger. She began to shake her head back and forth.

“Why are you fighting me, slave?” Ileana said. “You have been buried. Thrown away. Discarded! Who put you here? Was it this love of yours?” Ileana’s voice was getting louder with each word she spoke, her grip on Nothing’s face - more firm.

Nothing began to flex her entire body, pulling at the chains that held her so tautly. Sucking desperately against the pal of Ileana’s hand, trying to breath. Her eyes began to flutter.

“Stupid, stupid human!” Ileana shouted. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid… foolish… Arghhh!” A tear slipped from Ileana’s eye angering her all the more.

Ileana hands slipped from the human’s face, giving her access to air. She gasped loudly. Her chest rising with the intake of air. The chains rattled as she shook. A muffled whine slipping from her throat as she gasped some more. “She does…” Nothing shouted, but then had to gasp some more. “She does…,” she said again but her words turned to sobs. “She does love me…”

Ileana grabbed a handful of the woman’s hair and raised her fist until she scraped her knuckles against the cold metal of the lid of the sarcophagus. She wanted to hit the stupid woman! Love? She wanted to hurt the stupid human! She wanted to…

“Who is this love of yours!? What is her name?” Ileana said. “This person who loves you so much that she is digging up the earth looking for you, you worthless sex slave? Slut! You, who are the least of all!?”

The woman sobbed and a short huff of a sound pitched from her mouth. “My lover is… she’s the Princess… Princess Merkeza of Cowen. She… I love her and she…” the slave took a moment to get a full breath of air, her face turned bright, flushed in anger. “And…” She took another deep breath and screamed into the darkness. “She loves ME!”

0 - 0 - 4 - 10:42 - Joliette

Joliette knelt perfectly still in her small well lit cell. All four walls were a blank, bland beige only broken up by the gray steel door with its barred window. She knelt exactly in the center of the room with her legs tucked under and her back straight. Her arms were folded behind her back and her head bent forward. She concentrated on a spot on the floor just past the hem of her hooded robe. She had been staring at the spot for so long that her vision kept slipping out of focus. Her hood shielded her face from anyone who may have chosen to look through the window. Regardless, she did not vary her gaze at all, just as she had been trained.

Outside her cell door she could hear Madam McNear talking to an older woman. She concentrated on the words being said.

“Each is perfectly submissive. They are all extremely beautiful, in excellent health, and particularly fit,” the Madam was explaining.

“I have noticed,” the older woman said. “I believe that they shall fetch exceptionally high prices at the auction. You have done a wonderful job, Madam McNear, just as expected. After the Metal bitches have made their choice, two will be auctioned for marriage and the last will be sold to the breeders. I don’t care which. Any one of these girls would make excellent stock for the next generation of Daughters.”

Joliette was one of the current generation of Daughters, specifically the daughter of Nobleman Justice. And though, due to her rigid training in submission, she had only ever seen from his boots up to his knees, Madam McNair had engaged him in conversation long enough for Joliette to memorize the sound of his voice. She was certain that she could pick him out of a loud, crowded cocktail party despite having never seen his face simply by listening. Joliette was one of the four candidates to take the role of the Last West Virgin.

“What do you know of their sexual orientation?” the older woman asked.

“All my girls are brought up perfectly bisexual. They are trained to provide the best service to both men and women,” the Madam explained. “Even though they have never interacted with males before, they have spent countless hours on simulators. They are educated to perform willingly in a vast array of deviances appealing to either gender. Of course, their training precludes vaginal penetration.”

“Well, of course,” the old woman responded.

“Yes. Despite each of their upbringing and despite the fact that each is genuinely intrigued to encounter an actual male,” the Madam continued, “I know my girls better than they know themselves. And so, I am certain, that one will eventually realize that she is a lesbian. Regardless, I have confidence that she will continue to perform whichever role is required to perfection.”

Upon hearing Madame McNear’s statement, Joliette would have moved with a shocked intake of air had she not been trained so extensively. One of the Daughters was a lesbian?

“Which?” the old woman’s voice croaked.

Unfortunately, Madam only responded by saying “This one.” Apparently, she was pointing to one of the four cell doors that each held a Daughter of the Oligarchs. And if Joliette had fallen to the temptation to look, she still would not have been able to see to which door the Madame had indicated.

It had been common for her and the other three to sleep together and explore one another’s bodies. While breaking one’s hymen incurred the death penalty, there had never been any shame nor taboo with physical erotic experimentation. In fact, it was encouraged. Joliette particularly enjoyed fellow Daughter Olga’s company. They had even pretended that one day they would marry in some far off fantasyland. Maybe it was she, herself, who was the lesbian. Maybe her interest in discovering actual males was nothing more than suggestions pounded into her head by her training. Then again, Crystal and Auburn also seemed to pair off just as sweetly.

How could Madam McNear not have divulged this information to the four of them prior to this point? Lesbianism was against the law in Cowen. Had McNear just cast the fate of one of the four of them?

“You are certain, Madam,” the old woman said.

“I know everything about my girls, Morgana.”

Morgana… Joliette knew that Morgana was the Queen’s Witch. Joliette tucked her thoughts away about who was most likely to be a lesbian. She would have ample time to think on that later. Instead, she concentrated on the sound of the old woman’s voice and stored its nuances away so she would recognize it again in the future.

“Well, that should make the auction choices easier depending on the Metal bitches’ choice,” Morgana was saying. “Satisfied customers yield higher rewards.”

Joliette heard the Madam and Morgana move down the hall of the dungeon until they were out of earshot. Still, Joliette remained motionless, just as she knew the other Daughters were in each of their cells.

Lesbian or not, the time in her life had come and, as she had been thoroughly trained, she was prepared to endure whichever of the three fates was bestowed upon her: marriage, chastity, or forced impregnation.