Ketrick becomes a consort. Learning to be a lady. Merton emerges into a very new world. Ketrick makes a surprising admission. Will Ann's lack of imagination doom her to slavery?

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The Legal Stuff: The Warrior from Batuk  © 2004, 2007 Aardvark
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 

 
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Chapter 22
 
 
Feshtar, Priest of the Second Rank, raised his hands heavenward. He cleared his throat in the proscribed way and began the invocation in a rich bass, filling the audience room with the Gods’ will:

“Since the days of Tulem’s founding, her rulers have sought the Gods’ wisdom. The sacrifices have been made, the offerings accepted. Lo! The entrails are rich and bright; the bones tossed to favor; rarely have the planets aligned so well!”

A twitch procured a fine powder from a hidden pouch within the voluminous sleeve of his red robe, and he tossed it towards a polished silver brazier. A sharp flash ensued, followed by a single cloud of white smoke that rose slowly to the ceiling.

He turned and bowed to me on my throne. “Majesty, the portents are auspicious. The Gods are pleased.”

I was not surprised. It had cost me fifty golds -- not including the offerings and sacrifices.

“Thank you, priest. The Temple is always a welcome addition to my audience.”

When he removed himself, I nodded to Lester, my Audience Master, to proceed.

“The petitioner may approach!” he announced.

Ketrick entered the hall wearing his finest tunic of green and inlaid silver. Normally preferring loose pants, he had donned a tighter garment for the ceremony that showed his powerful legs and lean flanks to advantage. He walked confidently, regally, a fact not lost on my audience of palace officials, and Franco, Nikolai, and Katrina, who had surprised me by asking to attend.

He stopped a dozen feet away and went to one knee on the purple carpet.

“Majesty, I petition to join the ranks of the honored today. I ask that you grant me leave to become a subject of this mighty city.”

He said the words well, without a hitch or hesitation. He hated to take a false oath for any reason, and I wondered how he might wriggle from this commitment, although he had sworn he could find a way.

“State your name and city, petitioner.”

“Majesty, my name is Ketrick. I have no city or allegiances that bind me. I was born in Garras, long ago destroyed in war.”

“Will you take the required oath, Ketrick?”

“I will, Majesty.”

“Then rise and pledge yourself to your city and Queen.”

“I swear to uphold all the laws and authorities of Tulem, and defend its traditions and its honor with my life. With equal solemnity, I swear my allegiance to Dana, Queen of Tulem.”

He had escaped, the rascal. It could be argued that the real Queen Dana was a branded slave in Rudyer, and slaves could not be queens. By linking the two phrases with “equal solemnity,” it invalidated both. A pity. I had wanted, just once, to order him to please me.

“I, Queen Dana of Tulem, accept you as our subject. May the Gods grant you favor in your new city.”

He bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

I nodded again, dismissing him. When he left and I had thanked the lords for coming, the audience was over. But there was an important detail, actually an obligation, remaining. I sought out my sharp-eyed, elegantly dressed minister, approaching him with my best smile.

“Thank you, Selmin. The ceremony was most effective. You’ve succeeded admirably.”

He bowed so exquisitely, I thought for an instant that he might kiss my hand. He looked tired after his sleepless night, but his carriage was of a man who had won a great victory.

“It was my pleasure, Majesty.”

It was the pleasure of a man being appreciated by a lady. My heart tripped nervously at what just happened, a turn foreign to one who had grown up and commanded as a man. And this was just a taste of what was to come.

Events so far had favored me. I'd been a tenuous figure, but the only one who had known where she was swimming in a sea of chaos. With the waters calmed, however, I would have to adopt the characteristics of my sex if I were to be most effective. I would no longer be so welcome in the matters reserved to men. In a matter of years, or even months, the Queen who had fought the King and killed men would need to become a distant memory, a passing aberration in the reign of a successful Queen.

That night, my new consort and supposed subject dominated me, and all my concerns of the day burned away in passionate submission. For the first time in over a month, I felt completely safe. Afterwards, I lay in his arms, once again thoroughly pleased to be Tyra.

“Ketrick?”

“Yes, my liege?”

I hit him in the chest, which only made him grin.

“I worry about who I must be. To rule, I must be a lady.” I explained what Katrina had told me.

“Katrina is wise. Let the ministers do their jobs. Smile a lot and compliment them once in a while. They’ll love it.”

I felt like hitting him again, harder.

“I’ve been trained to command men. Now I have to be weak and dependent on my ministers because that’s what everyone expects.” I clenched my fist. “Goddess! Selmin felt so good about helping me and I had to be an appreciative little helpless female.”

“Did you offer to mate with him? Did you bat your pretty eyes and gaze longingly at his twyll?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you were successful. Consider yourself in the mirror. It was no man I just brolled. Men are the easiest of beings to please. You don’t have to pretend to be helpless. All they expect from you are a few smiles, a few kind words. They’ll see what they want to see.”

I laughed; it was so exasperating. “It’s not that simple. Selmin…”

He placed a finger to my lips. “Think of it as an arranged marriage. The husband and wife know their roles, but not each other. They sleep together, conduct themselves in the expected ways, and gradually they become accustomed to each other. Play your role and allow the ministers to play theirs. All will become normal soon enough.”

I sighed. It sounded so reasonable when he said it -- and he was over three hundred years old. “All right. Maybe you’re right about my ministers, but it’s not just them. Do you have any idea how different it is to act like a lady, especially with another lady? There are rules, gestures, expectations; some of the women are real bitches…”

“It can’t be that difficult,” he soothed, stroking my breast. “You’ve done it for a month.”

I ignored my hardening nipple. “Not the same. They expected a serum girl; they discovered a serum girl who kills men. My reputation is ‘in tatters,’ according to Katrina.”

“Is Katrina going to help you?”

“I think so. Maybe Daphne, too.”

“Good. You might need to learn some manners, but those are useful, especially for a woman. What are you really worried about?”

“I’ve already changed so much. Every experience takes away something of who I was: the slave camp, being a part of your stable, Wanda’s training, even the trip with Thermin. I cried like a girl at the sight of children at play when I was in Batuk. I’m pleased that my father thinks of me as his daughter. I look at Katrina and I wonder if that’s who I’ll be in a year of acting like her. I don’t want to be her.”

“You accommodate your body’s needs and the demands of your life as a woman. I see only that you are finding out more of who you are. Someday you will know yourself. But you couldn’t become Katrina, even if you tried. Tyra is too strong.”

I didn’t feel so strong, certainly not while his hand was manipulating my breast. The contrast between my softness and his hard muscularity could hardly have been greater, and there was how I felt about him: I wasn’t as independent as I used to be -- or as secure.

“I’ll be here years, Ketrick. Will you stay with me?”

He snorted. “Anything can happen in a space of years, but I plan to be here until it’s time to go. Then I plan to leave with you.”

I smiled. He had grumbled, as usual, but still told me what I wanted to know. “I like your plan very much.”

***

The midday sun on the lake formed sparkling, ever-changing patterns, reflected from tiny wakes from pleasure craft and occasional gusts amidst the lazier noon breezes. It was easy to let one’s mind loose in the sight, to forget everything for a moment. Riding along fashionably slowly in a comfortable coach, it was even easier. In fact, there was even the danger of drowsing off. It would have been a fine sight for the ladies I meant to impress in Katrina’s castle for the coachman to open the door and find the Queen sprawled on the seat, snoring.

My reputation was poor among the women. I had checked with Daphne. She had always impressed me as being too easily influenced by others, but with her sister, Gina, away servicing men in a foreign land, she seemed to have grown into a sweet girl. She didn’t want to say outright how the ladies felt about me, but through omission, she had made her point. It was fully as bad as Katrina had made it out to be.

And so, as the coach approached the gate portal, I smoothed my dress, adjusted my bodice, and snapped the pocket mirror open for the third time, making sure every hair was in place.

We passed the castle guards and rattled onto the cobblestone, passing under the heavy portcullis, through the tunnel, and into the daylight of the courtyard. I noted the welcoming committee: four guards with spears in polished armor; Katrina; her chief of staff, a stocky man in blue and silver; and the four ladies I was to meet, Barbara, Nadia, Ekatya, and Beata, the fiancée of the man I’d killed on the third floor. The quartet looked cool, and I didn’t doubt that Katrina had twisted their arms to be there.

The door opened and the steps lowered. I stepped out serenely onto the gray tile of the courtyard, accepting the guiding hand of my coachman. As I touched the ground, all except the guards bowed or curtseyed.

“Majesty, welcome to my castle,” Katrina said.

“Thank you, Katrina. Thank you all for coming.” At my words, they rose.

“We have the conference room prepared with refreshments,” Katrina said, indicating the direction with her hand.

I smiled to poke a hole in the gloom. The four ladies with her seemed more ready to hear a dirge than discuss the possibility of love and marriage. Even Katrina looked nervous. If this group wasn’t even meeting her cautious expectations, it was hardly a good sign.

When we arrived at the conference room, half the long table was filled with wines displayed on a circular stand, a line of finger snacks, and a variety of dips. I selected a wine to show the rest it could be done. Of the four, only Beata failed to take something, but all kept their faces uniformly chilly. Katrina noticed, and I took a clue from her annoyance that she felt that they had let her down.

I wondered if I hadn’t come too early. The night at Alexander’s castle was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Half the Borodin men had been killed in a single evening. And now a meddling Giovanni Queen was proposing changes that, although voluntary, were designed to scatter half of the women outside of the safe valley where they had grown up and had expected to be their home forever.

“Katrina, I’d like to get some air before we start -- a walk in the garden,” I said.

Katrina looked at me askance; a walk wasn’t a part of the plan.

“Would you join me?” I asked Barbara. She had no choice, of course, and assented with reasonable grace.

We walked slowly to the garden, as I still favored my leg. She noticed, but said nothing: to most ladies in the valley, the cause of my injury was a mark against me. I chose to sit at a bench by the central fountain. It offered a view of the top of the western mountains, and the cascade drowned out most of the sounds of the castle.

“I’m not your enemy, Barbara,” I said.

“No, Majesty.”

“You may call me Dana. You’ve known me since I was small.”

“Yes -- Dana.”

“You know why I’m doing this. I want the killing to end.”

She looked me in the eye as if I had betrayed her. “This is our home. How can you ask us to leave?”

“I want the ladies to find happiness wherever they can find it. No one is forcing anyone to leave.”

“Any noblewoman who has relations with a mundane cheapens the nobility.”

I swallowed an angry retort. Her phrasing expanded criticism of marriage with commoners to my choice of consorts. Consorts were different and she knew it. Still, she had a point.

“You’re right. Relations with commoners weakens the nobility.”

The response she had ready on her lips died of surprise, and she regarded me anew. “You admit it. Then why?”

“Because anything we now do hurts the nobility. The aristocracy is strong only because the mundanes in the valley respect us. With twice the number of ladies as lords, you know as well as I that eventually ladies will have affairs and liaisons -- and almost certainly with mundanes.”

“Yes ... Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she said reluctantly.

“So the choice is this: marriages outside the valley, or scandal within. One allows us control, gives ladies choices that she may accept or decline with dignity. The other leads to eventual disgrace in our own city in front of our own people. Which do you prefer?”

“I am no trollop to be chosen from a line!” she said, glaring at me.

I smiled. Her protest, although enthusiastic, lacked essential heat. “An amusing picture, but hardly accurate. Barbara, we’ve known each other for a long time. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She looked down to her hands, clenched firmly in her lap, and shook her head. “Dana, if my father were still alive.... I’ve dreamed of being married, but this is not how I thought it would be.”

I took her hand in mine. She looked up, startled. Her eyes brimmed with tears. I saw her father in her, a man of medium height and weight, with much the same aspect. He had been one of the first I’d killed.

She didn’t resist when I took her in my arms. She sobbed into my shoulder, while I stroked her hair. I wanted to cry, too, for different reasons. “Barbara, if I’m still Queen when you are married, wherever and whenever that will be, I’ll be there. Your wedding will have the authority of the palace.”

She drew back to look at me, shifting her focus from eye to eye. “I’ll keep an open mind and consider what you’re proposing, but I make no promises.”

“I could ask no more.”

She sighed. “All these deaths -- the changes. I hate it, but I don't want to grow old alone. Of all of us, I'm probably the easiest to persuade. Nadia and Ekatya will follow Beata like little squirrels after their mother, but Beata won’t be so easy to convince.”

The image of darting the man on the balcony was still fresh in my mind. “I still remember her screaming when Horace died.”

“She’s suffered the most, I think. What you intend to do with her?”

“I have no idea. Anything I say to her about finding another man would be a slap in the face to the memory of her fiancée. I’d offer her my shoulder, but we were never close, and, between you and me, I hear my reputation is suspect.”

“She has no immediate family left. You could find a match outside Tulem, and marry her off within a month. Her example would be instructive to other ladies who might resist you.”

“That, dear Barbara, I will not do.”

She smiled. To my annoyance, I realized that she had been testing me.

“So, it’s true. You and Katrina have become dreamy-eyed loons. I’m not yet convinced that this will work, but if you stay to your course, you may eventually infect most of us with your lovely madness.”

“We have years to spread the disease.”

“It could take that long. Let me talk to Beata. She needs time to heal; at best, she’ll be neutral.”

“I would like that, Barbara. Thank you.”

The rest of the meeting was polite; Beata and the rest listened, although they asked few questions. I remained regal, understanding, and minded my manners. Before I entered the coach to return to the palace, Katrina nodded her approval. I counted it a good day.

***

The workmen had come and gone the previous day, setting a pair of walls at the end of my quarters, constructing an interior maid's room of tasteful dark and light woods with a door and small windows that might be curtained.

After lunch, Lees’n fulfilled his promise, bringing Merton to my quarters in a box disguised as a chest of drawers. He unwrapped her and placed her on the bed.

She had reached her finishing height by then, and only slight blurring and translucence marred her final form. Wanda washed her with damp cloths, and later, Lees’n held her unprotesting body in position as Wanda slipped on a shift, an eerie vision of what must have happened to me while I had lain in Tisa’s quarters. Lees’n checked her pulse and other key signs before turning her over to us.

“She should come out of it in late afternoon, Majesty.”

“Thank you. Are you sure that you’re the only one who knows she’s here and what she looks like?”

“The only one who knows she’s here, yes. Slaver Abul would know her by sight from the serum, of course. Would you like me to be here when she awakes?”

“Not unless you think there might be a medical problem.”

“Very well.” Lees’n took a moment, stroking his goatee while he viewed Merton stretched out upon the bed. He said, “Elli would look nice with hair like that. Merton’s body is appealing, too. The problem lies with Elli: she would take exception to becoming a natural slave -- even though it would lend structure to our sometimes chaotic relationship.”

“Merton could visit her one afternoon and show her who you feel she should be. Doubtless, Elli would be pleased to know your dearest wish.”

“As usual, your logic is faultless,” he said, bowing, and then he departed.

I sat by her side as my sister had before me, and waited. Merton slept soundly, breathing slowly. Over the next two hours her skin firmed, and her skin’s transparent sheen turned opaque, lighter than the norm, but not unnaturally so, and her hair matched it well, an unusual shade, platinum, long and straight, a silver halo spread out on both sides of her pillow.

A deeper than normal breath was the first sign. She stirred, stretching her head. Her hands moved slowly, unfolding naturally, as if she were awakening after a long sleep. Her mouth opened and she yawned, raising a hand to cover it, a gesture that, done by this delicate creature, was wonderfully feminine. Then her eyes, a deeper blue than the sky just before nightfall, opened and looked around for the first time.

“Majesty?” she said in a high, sweet voice. She caught herself, and her hands went to her face, then strayed downwards to touch her breasts, a common reaction for men becoming women.

No matter how much a man tries to prepare for it, the reality of changing one’s sex is always a jolt. Her eyes were extraordinary; I saw her shock all the way to her natural slave female core. I realized then that I’d been smiling for some time.

“Welcome back, Merton, although that will not be your name much longer.”

She stared at her slim arms and fine hands in front of her face, and ran her fingers through beautiful long thick hair. “I … I’m a woman,” she exclaimed. “By the Gods, I’m a woman!”

Few would have disputed it. Womanly curves flowed under the thin shift; slim legs reached to form a “V” where no trace of a man could be imagined. Hips large enough for birthing narrowed smoothly to a neat waist that begged for a man’s hand. Merton’s breasts descended pertly to form delightful proud globes punctuated with dark pink nipples amidst well-sized aureolae. She was not large in any area, nor did she present features that would call for exuberance in a tavern. She was, rather, the sum of her parts, forming a whole that a discerning man might desire for his house, a woman perhaps unsuited for heavy outdoor work, but perfect as a master’s indoor decoration and feminine delicacy for the silks.

I took her hand. It was smaller than my own. She looked at me, nervous and afraid, and again, the deep blue formed a path to her inner being. I melted; concern for her, lost and seemingly so young, forged a bond. She might have been two centuries older than I, but here, I was the elder.

“You are safe and well,” I said. “No one can hurt you here. Would you like to see yourself?”

“Yes, Majesty.” She sat up, and Wanda and I helped her to her feet. I let her go, knowing she would find her balance soon enough, although Wanda and I stayed beside her all the way in case of a stumble. She managed easily, and her awkward, straight--ahead steps turned rapidly into a gait more natural for her sex. She looked around the apartment as she walked. I recognized the look. She was a petite woman; Merton had been eight inches taller. The room must have suddenly grown huge. Once inside the bathroom, she hesitated when I attempted to help her with the shift.

“Merton, I went through the same thing. You need to see, and you don’t have anything I don’t. Certainly, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, Majesty,” she sighed, and I pulled it over her arms, still weak from the serum. She bit her lip when she saw herself for the first time. “May I see myself alone?”

“Of course. Look as long as you like. Wanda and I will be outside.”

I heard movement and imagined her posing as I had done, gradually becoming accustomed to the sight of her body moving to her will. Movement stopped for a time and I heard a different sound, the high keening of a girl in misery as she sobbed into a towel. Wanda looked at me and to the door, her face filled with sympathy, but I shook my head. Merton had to understand who she was; it would have been no kindness to stop her.

The crying stopped and low mumbles began that resolved into words. Merton practiced a form of the slaver training. “I am a woman,” she kept saying, at first indistinctly, and then stronger. When she opened the door, her posture was erect, her face resolved.

“Majesty, you went through the same thing…” She frowned attractively, although she might not have been pleased to learn it so soon. “No. For you it must have been much worse; it must have been a terrible surprise. I can’t compare my travails to your own. I, at least, expected it and have hopes that I will remain free.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, no,” I said, remembering my shrieks and blood-fury, “but I don't imagine this is easy for you, either. You know who you’ll be from now on?”

She gave me a look that was likely disgust, but looked so much like girlish petulance in that body that I felt like hugging her. “Yes, Majesty. I’m that absurdly pretty girl I saw in the mirror.”

“You cried. Is there something I should know about? Please speak your mind. I’ve found it easier to share as a woman.” I shrugged at her expression. “It simply is. I don’t make these things up.” I motioned towards a chair so that she might rest. If my experience were any guide, she’d be weak for several hours.

She took a moment to decide to talk to me.

“Majesty, there were two things.” Her eyes went wide in despair. “I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t see anything of me. Merton the man, the face I’d known for centuries, is gone. I looked hard, but I only saw a frightened girl.” She tried to punctuate it, but the formerly forceful gesture of a man making a point made only the gentle slap of the base of her small fist impacting a soft hand.

She looked at her hands as if they were traitors. Her gaze rose to the ceiling for a moment while she fought off tears that she could no longer control, in the end forced to dab the moisture away with a corner of her shift.

I leaned forward and said, “I understand. The same happened to me.”

“Yes. As I was saying, I didn’t see myself anymore. I could have accepted that. If I looked so different and all my movements were to be a repudiation of my manhood, it would have been a clean break, a new start, but then an odd thing happened.”

She faced me fully with a fire I hadn’t seen before. “I did see myself. For a moment I relived who I’d been. I’ve never been daring or physically brave. I’ve avoided conflict, lived my life less as a true man than as the position I held, a librarian, comfortable with books that don’t bite, absorbed in the past, and with ideas that never threatened. You picked well, Majesty,“ she said, smiling bitterly. “I am my female counterpart -- weaker than most women, pretty, and ineffectual. I see now what you saw in me.”

I stood abruptly, ready to rip into her, starting a twinge in my injured leg. But Wanda beat me to it.

“Mistress! Queen Dana is kind. She would not do this to hurt you.”

I stared at her. Wanda risked a whipping for speaking out of turn. I would not have done it, of course, but for her to break slave habits of a century, she must have been outraged. I considered what I was about to say, reconsidered it, and began again.

“I chose your body because I thought you might thrive in it. You were a good, kind man. Queen Prudence thought highly of you. You were brave enough to help her when others wouldn’t. Maybe you weren’t the type to wield a spear or sword, but in your new life, you won’t need that. This body is made for you. Yes, you’re very pretty, like all serum girls, but instead of a girl who will always look like a tavern slave, you have the chance to be different. With work and guidance, others will see you as a woman of strength and kindness, perhaps a little vulnerable, but a woman that people will value and cherish.”

I smiled and held my hand out for her. “Now, tell me I did wrong.”

Her hands went to her head and slim fingers drew through her hair, an unavoidably feminine gesture, albeit a nervous one. “Majesty, do you really see me that way?” she asked incredulously. “You think of me as that woman?”

“Not yet, but I see her in you. You can’t remain who you are, you know. Your body and Zhor will force you to change. To become the woman I described is a challenge, but a worthy one.” I motioned with my fingers. “Merton, will you take my hand? Will you let me guide you?”

“Gods!” She stood and stepped away from me, rubbing her arms under her breasts as if she had a chill.

“Face it. She sounds like a nice woman, a woman many would like.”

She nodded. “Yes, she does. I would have liked her, I’m sure. To be her, though….” She shivered. “Majesty, I feel so weak!”

“The feeling passes in a few hours.”

“I wasn’t a large man, yet I had inches on you. Now I look up, even to your slave.”

“Height and size are not so important among women. If you’re truly dissatisfied, then there are other serums to choose from, but you’d have to wait several months for a new body. Personally, I like you as you are.”

She turned and looked deep into my face with the same look she had given me just before she’d passed into unconsciousness. Her eyes, so incredibly open, showed me total trust amidst fright. I came close to tears at that moment, and vowed in my heart that I would not let her down.

“Talking about becoming this woman makes me feels very strange.”

“She isn’t so different from you. You must be brave to admit it, and more to allow yourself to be her.”

She extended her hand tentatively, and I took it before she could change her mind.

“Where do we start, Majesty?” she asked, taking a deep breath.

“A new name. Please tell me you’ve thought about it.”

“I’d like to be called Ann.”

“Is it something that can be traced to you?”

“No, Majesty. My wife and I never discussed it with others.” She bowed her head at my surprise. “I kept my marriage private, much like the rest of my life. It’s so odd to speak of it now. My wife died twenty years ago with our unborn daughter. Her name was to have been Ann.”

“You will be a worthy Ann,” I said, clamping my hand to her shoulder. “Wanda and I will train you well. For the time being, you’ll stay here. I’ll tell Kernul that you’re my new maid.” I grinned. “Yes, you’ll be a maid, although Wanda will help you. It will be good training. And stay away from the balcony.”

She looked at me curiously. “If everyone knows I’m your maid, then why?”

“You’re a natural slave and, unless your libido was very low …” I paused until she shook her head. “... Then until you learn enough to protect yourself, you’ll stay out of sight of the men -- and most especially my consort. He has a voracious effect on serum girls. I would be displeased if you crawled to him, begging to be taken.”

She blushed. “Gods and Overlords.”

***

Much later that night, after my consort had forced me once again to admit my natural slave heart with a string of powerful slave orgasms:

“I approve, Tyra. It’s just that you should take more precautions.”

I lay back to provide him a better angle to my right breast. “I dyed her hair and cut it, although it broke my heart to do so, and Ann’s eyes are now an ordinary brown.”

“Not enough. Kernul will probably check to find out who this new maid is. I certainly would, simply as a matter of security. You have to decide if you can trust him enough to tell him what you’re doing, or create a mystery when you tell to leave the matter alone. And the Slavers Guild is not stupid. If they guessed what you were doing, they would surely take some action. Still, for the time being, she’s safe. I’ll try to keep an eye on Abul.”

“Thank you. He’s my greatest worry.”

“Maybe. It might be Nikolai. If the slavers suspect anything, they’ll want to capture you to find out how to break your control. If Nikolai is after you, he’ll want to kill you -- a much easier thing to do.”

“I’m glad you brolled me well already. I might have been worried otherwise.”

He shifted to the other breast and rolled my nipple briefly between thumb and forefinger. I stirred and smiled, feeling the cone firm nicely. “Let me know if you are the least bit concerned, Tyra. I can force you to submit all night if I have to.”

I sighed and stretched, arching my back in a way I knew he enjoyed. “Oh. Oh. Help. I’m about to be raped all night.”

He tickled me until I admitted his superiority in all things. Soon afterwards, I drowsed by his side, nearly asleep, with my arm draped over his chest.

“This plan of yours to get rid of the ladies is interesting,” he said.

I opened an eye. “Hmm?”

“I’m thinking of the long-term implications. Do you know this might destroy the aristocracy?”

“I don’t care about the aristocracy,” I said, still sleepy. “I just want the women to be happy.”

“Think about it. The ladies who leave the valley will likely be younger and more adventurous. This is also true of the men. The ladies will soon become accustomed to their new surroundings, and they will be pleased with their men.”

“That's the idea.”

“Now think about who is left behind, the older women and the women with unharmonious temperaments. The remaining unmarried lords will naturally desire a wider selection and seek women, of necessity, mostly mundane, from the outside. Grant them this and the right to keep them in Tulem, and eventually half-nobles and quarter-nobles will flood the valley. In a few hundred years the nobility will be so diluted as to be meaningless.”

“Interesting theory. It’s also a very long-range view that doesn’t concern us. Is this a way to wake me up for more dominating, or is this part of something else?”

He rolled to his side and looked at me, his black eyes reflecting the night candle like twin fires. “It could be the latter, Queen Tyra.”

I abruptly banished all thoughts of sleep. “Are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I’d rather you tell me,” he replied, smiling like a wolf.

I lifted my head on my elbow and considered him. “Very well. If I had to guess, I’d say that you were an agent of the Overlords. You’ve left me a few clues, and I’ve done some checking. The library here is on par with the Institute in Batuk.”

“Agent of the Overlords? Interesting conclusion. Why do you think so?”

“Damn you. You aren’t even going to tell me, are you? Then why should I bother to tell you what I know?”

“What you have is conjecture. If I were to admit that I was an agent, then it would be a fact, an important admission.”

“Ah! All right. But I’m tired of being tested, and you mustn’t laugh if I’m wrong. Firstly, it is known that agents for the Overlords do exist. This tells me that with all the Overlords’ power to destroy cities, their advanced technology, and ability to move between worlds, they would rather use a swatter to kill a mosquito than an iron mallet.”

“I think that any rational creature would do that, but please continue.”

I made a face. “It means that if the Overlords want to do something, for instance, stop an impending attack against Batuk, they would prefer to use agents instead of, say, obliterating an army from the sky.”

“Reasonable.”

“Ketrick, the Overlords would not have looked on favorably if Tulem had conquered Batuk.”

“How do you know that? Do you claim to know their will?”

“Huh!” I snorted. “I should be asking you that question. Zhor has a long history. It’s possible to track patterns. The Overlords want men and women to enjoy life, and to live and die well. They want humanity to strive, fight for glory, lust for freedom. They want us to be ourselves -- at least that’s what the scholars say, and in this case, I believe them.

“Just as they don’t permit any one city to become too powerful, they prefer a certain kind of society. City administrations like Batuk and tolerant monarchies like Ademar are the norm. With its docile, weak-gened commoners, Tulem is an aberration, a perversion of the Overlords’ will. There have been other perversions, some very nasty: the Dark Tyranny, the Red Temple, Victoria of Tern, the Matriarchs of Mirth, Autarch Allsop, and many more, but they are never permitted to expand their despicable ways. Something always stops them, or, if they are successful, they are never successful for long.”

His white teeth glinted in the small flame. “You found all this out at the library? You had time to do this research?”

“Not I. When a Queen waves her staff of authority, gray robes fly to the racks, information is crosschecked, scholars debate -- and Merton was very helpful, too. He was a fine librarian before he became the beauty-you-must-not-see.”

He laughed, delighted. “Tyra, you were so curious that you put the entire library to work on the question?”

“Not exactly. When I returned from Batuk, I wanted to stop anyone from searching too hard for reasons why the spies were discovered. If it was the Overlords' will, I thought, Nikolai and others might find their defeat easier to accept. I asked the library for reasons why the Overlords might want Tulem to fail. This was one of them, although the scholars didn’t refer to Tulem as a perversion, of course.”

He nodded. “Not bad. Do you have anything else to show that I’m an agent besides a general trend that the Overlords might want to stop Tulem from invading Batuk?”

“Of course. You’ve as much as said that you’ve done this before. In fact, I’m not so sure some of your careless ‘slips’ weren’t deliberate. You also spoke of different ways of rule and hinted at greater knowledge, things that, in hindsight, would be known to an agent of the Overlords. And then there is your casual mentions of spying, following people, and assassination, as if you did it routinely.”

“Coincidence?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Horse…!” I held up my hand to stop myself from swearing. From his grin, Ketrick was just trying to rile me. “But the clincher is that you came to Tulem in the first place. I just don’t believe you were willing to die to save Batuk after living there for a month or two. If you were that reckless you would have died three hundred years ago. You had another reason for being here. I can’t think of another reason that fits all the facts.”

“You were a reason.”

“Not the main one.”

He paused, watching me. “No.”

I turned away, and said, “It doesn’t matter. I came here to save my city and would do it again -- and I certainly couldn’t have done it alone.”

He caressed my cheek gently, and I turned my head back towards him.

“There’s only one reason I’m here now, Tyra.”

I smiled, easing my cheek against his hand. “That’s what keeps me looking forward to the next day; it’s a day closer to when we leave together. I’m very happy to be here with you, but I know you, Ketrick; you wouldn’t have come here in the first place without a very good reason.”

“I am an agent for the Overlords. I can’t tell you much about it, but I have a house in the mountains where the Overlords live, although I’m rarely there. I’m making you an offer to join us. You would make a superb agent, and I have another reason. I want you to be with me always, Tyra, as my partner in all things.”

I cried tears of joy, and I wanted to hug him, but I managed to hold back at the last moment. “Before I agree, I must know; are all your missions this dangerous?”

He roared with laughter. “By the Gods, no! I never thought it would be so risky. I figured a few key assassinations would start a war, and that would be the end of it.”

Still streaming tears, I clutched him. “Then yes, I’ll do it if it means that I’ll be with you. But there’s one thing…”

“You still want to marry me,” he sighed.

“Goddess, is that so hard? What is so wrong with it, anyway?” I said, glaring at him. “Bloody damn right, I want to get married.”

He shrugged, as if it meant nothing at all. I knew better; he’d probably been thinking about it for days or longer.

“All right. We’ll get married after we leave.”

“Yes!” I yelled in triumph. I looked tenderly at my fiancé for a moment, filling my senses with what the words meant: husband, wife, home; and just how far I’d come since Ruk’s serum had taken my manhood. I’d known a few women in Batuk who had considered me a possible mate. Now, from the other side looking in, I was sure I was the luckiest serum girl on the planet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be my slave?”

I smiled. I wouldn’t tell him, but sometimes I dreamed of wearing his brand, burned into my thigh by his strong arm and held down the full three seconds. “Ask me in fifty years.”

“I might. Do you still wish to be Tyr again?”

“I will not be your wife wishing I were still a man. The day we marry I’ll forgive my brother for making me a serum girl. After that, I’ll never mention his name again. I will be Tyra forever; my wish to be Tyr again will be gone.” I made a slicing motion with my hand.

“I look forward to it. And what about Angel?”

“Ah, Angel. She and I made an agreement.” I told him what it was.

“You want me to sell her now?” he asked, his face unreadable.

“No. I’d also prefer that you didn’t tell her about us yet. And I don’t mind if you sleep with her, not that I have the right to say no, anyway -- she is your slave. With all the enemies I have there’s a fair chance I could die in the next few years. If I die in Tulem, then I wish her the greatest happiness with you.”

“Very noble, but if you died, I’d have to change her DNA. I wouldn’t want to look at her and see you.”

I kissed him softly. “I would not be offended, Ketrick. I know that you love her, too, in a different way.”

I was pleased to see that he didn’t deny it. “I’d have to change her DNA anyway. I’ve never liked blondes. I’ve always preferred black hair and dark eyes, and maybe a touch of color.”

“As a wedding present, I give you permission to give me the body you desire for a year, as long as you don’t give me huge breasts.”

“You are generous,” he said, his teeth practically glowing.

“A man should have some fantasies fulfilled during his lifetime.”

I felt a little odd at the thought of my body being molded to someone else’s desire, but I’d learned that the body was not the most important thing, and I trusted Ketrick’s taste. He had chosen the body I currently enjoyed so much, after all. The thought of him having such control had a more immediate consequence, and I drew him to me passionately as he was drawing me to him. I didn't get much sleep that night.

***

A month passed. With Katrina’s help, I’d spoken to all the unmarried Borodin women about my plans, with indifferent results, and had started on the fathers. If I had had any hope of it taking only a couple of years, I would have been disappointed, but as important, I hadn’t made any horrible mistakes either. With so many recent dead, I couldn’t do much more than plant ideas that might develop as time passed. Women with decades, and some with centuries, were naturally cautious.

The men were another story. They needed little encouragement to look elsewhere, especially those younger nobles who had no chance of ruling their own castles. Already several were outside the valley, exploring different cities, some far away, with an eye to what a fortune in gold might buy, and what opportunities awaited a natural ruler.

In the meantime, there were other problems:

Ann lay comfortably in my bed in the purple dress of a queen’s servant, her bodice loosened and her hands comfortably arranged by her sides. Thick blue curtains were drawn across the balcony to produce a soft, cool shade. Afkal hung in the air, its sweet pungency saturating the bed coverings and ceiling drapes hung to contain the blue-gray smoke. I sat in my favorite chair just a few feet away from Ann with Wanda watching from the other side. To allow frustration and impatience into my voice would only make things worse, I reminded myself. Composing my thoughts, I followed along with Ann, taking the well-worn journey through my mind:

“Ann, we are in that copse of trees you enjoy so much. You wear a comfortable cotton dress of brown and green in late afternoon under a cloudless sky. The wind is blowing warm and comfortable through your hair, and rustles leaves in the green canopy overhead. A small brook burbles over worn gray rock to your right. Wild grasses crowd your slippers, forming a natural carpet that imbues the air with the aroma of spice and growing things. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with it, and exhale slowly. You are safe, happy and secure. How do you feel, Ann?”

“Well, Dana,” came the soft response. “I am calm and so normal. The world is quiet, and I am comfortable.”

“Behind a stand of trees on a peaceful winding path walks a woman. She is kind and friendly. She knows you. Can you see her?”

“Yes. She just came into view. Her name is Derani and she is walking slowly towards me from the setting sun. I know her. She is kind and friendly.”

“Describe her, Ann.”

“A few inches taller than me, she has on a thin linen, deep blue and gold dress. Her expression is touched with a wry smile and a ready wit. She has black hair that frames a round face glowing with health. Her brown eyes grow large at beautiful things: flowers, birds, and children, and she sighs at the smells of summer in the air. I like her, Dana.”

“She’s coming closer, Ann. She is very close, so close you can touch her. She smiles. She’s inviting you to approach her, to be with her. Look into her eyes, Ann. What do you see?”

“She’s looking at me; her eyes are willing me to join her. She wants me to come closer, wants me to step inside, inviting me. Her eyes are so large, like pools. Dana, I want to come in!”

“And she wants you to, Ann,” I soothed. “She wants you to join her in the linen dress of blue and gold, to be the kind and friendly woman with her. Step inside, Ann; become her.”

“I’m moving towards her, almost swimming in the soft brown pools of her eyes. I can feel her warmth and kindness, her strength, I … I…” She brought her hands to her face slowly and sobbed.

I leaned over the bed and smoothed her hair. “It’s all right, Ann. We’ll try again later.”

She sat up slowly and swung her feet over the side of the bed. They didn’t quite touch the floor. Her large brown eyes, still expressive, revealed all of her frustration and fear. It had been three weeks of twice a day sessions and, after a promising start, she had been no better in the last two weeks. “Dana, I felt so close, but she slipped away from me.” She made a small fist, looked at the delicate thing sadly, and sighed.

I put my arm around her shoulders to steady her. She had changed considerably in some ways; accepting a woman’s strength, persistence and patience, was one of them. “We’ll try again. You are close. The important thing is to remain calm and steady.”

“I won’t give up.”

“I didn’t think you would. We might try more afkal the next time.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. I already feel so light-headed afterwards I can barely walk. It’s just that I can’t quite grasp her.” She raised her hands and put them in front of her face, as if holding a ball or feeling the sides of a face. “I almost know her, but not quite. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get it somehow. I know it can be done. You managed it. Now it’s time to fold some more towels and clean the bathroom.” She stood awkwardly and walked off. She hadn’t been joking about the afkal; she lurched unsteadily all the way to the bath.

She was worried, although she put forward a fairly convincing face over it, another thing she had learned to do. Hana l’Lina had said that it required tremendous will and imagination. I thought Ann had the will: I’d rarely seen anyone try so hard in the face of repeated failure.

It was her imagination. A librarian needed organization and a logical mind. She could imagine philosophical concepts, and I’d seen her cry at one of the more maudlin pictures on the wall left over from the feminine makeover a woman had decided would be appropriate for a queen, a scene where children played by a pond. She lacked, it seemed the ability to truly, deeply, understand people, possibly why she had remained distant and reserved for those many long years. And because she couldn’t completely understand someone else, she had found it impossible to become that person in a fantasy.

We had already tried people she knew: women scholars, Wanda, me, even a variation of herself. So far, nothing had worked. I caught myself looking at times, imagining her as a slave, one in slave tunic, and a brand, dark and prominent against her light skin. She would be happy as a slave, all serum girls are, but, unlike the real Dana, Ann had the will to be free. If she could just find a way...

A week later:

I waved lazily from my usual place in the bath. Sitting comfortably on a step, I was submerged to my neck, my hair draped behind me over the side to keep it dry.

“Ann, come join us!” I called. I wondered what was wrong with her. She’d been reticent all day. Usually she enjoyed the bath in the late afternoon.

She shrugged out of her dress and shift, folding her clothes neatly on the back of a chair. I admired her body objectively as she entered the water, slipping slowly into the steamy depths. Ann had been caught at that point in life when a girl just crossed into womanhood, about twenty, with the girlish padding a recent memory. Not fat, she was not too thin either, and she was stronger than she looked.

Wanda and I had been preserved a few years older, about average for women and slaves. Although a few masters preferred slaves who looked as young as sixteen, the practice wasn’t encouraged, as the age of majority was twenty.

It hadn’t been a good day for her so far. We’d failed again that morning to establish a fantasy, but that had never stopped her before from coming to the bath; it was her time to relax and forget.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Cheer up! There are other drugs to try, some, I’m sure, better than afkal and we haven’t even tried those exercises to improve the imagination. Janice swore they helped her to create. You’ve seen her paintings. Come on, stay strong.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

I peered at her closely; she hadn’t called me that for weeks. “What’s the matter?”

She faced me, her body tight, and her eyes lined with fear and, even more, pitiful sadness. “I’ve let you down,” she said.

Truthfully, I wasn’t surprised that she would finally become depressed. It would have been inhuman to expect her to maintain the effort while failing every time.

“You haven’t let anyone down. You’ve tried as hard as anyone I’ve ever seen. We have the time and the means. If we need to, we can consult experts from around Zhor, mystics in the internal arts.”

“I think it’s too late. You’ve done everything you said you would, but I will be what I was meant to be.” Her eyes filled with tears. She made to escape the bath, but I held her arm.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, but she could barely speak. “All right, let's get dried off first, but I have questions for you.” Once we were dry enough and in clean robes, I sat her down. “What are you saying? Do you want to be a slave?”

“I don’t think I’ll have a choice. I betrayed your trust, and now I must pay.”

I sucked in a hard breath when I saw where she was looking. “Did you go to the balcony? You saw men? Have you felt the urges? Goddess! Tell me, Ann. What have you done?”

I held her as she wept in my arms. She was strong enough, though, to tell me everything clearly, in a cool, reasoned, rational manner that, in a way, was worse than if she’d broken down and cried it out.

“Majesty, I wanted to see the sky, to look at the city. In the back of my mind, I knew the danger, but I had to see the world.”

I held her hand, but it was I who needed strength.

“What did you see?”

“Little at first. It wasn’t so much that I wished to see anything. I wanted to be a part of Zhor again, and I imagined myself among all the people, as me, Ann.”

Her huge eyes fixed upon me, sad but grateful, a terrible sight, as it seemed she had already resigned herself to a fate as a slave.

“You and Wanda have done a wonderful job,” she continued. “I wasn’t afraid anymore. I saw myself walking on the street in a dress, feeling a part of the city, just another of its populace -- a woman this time, but normal.”

I sighed. “What did you see, Ann?”

“At first I listened. I heard people laughing, hooves striking stone as horses passed on the other side of the palace wall, and conversations. I smelled cooking on a grill somewhere, hot spice, and tar from repairs on a nearby roof.” She smiled. “Even the whiff of someone’s garbage, left out too long. Then I saw something move close to the flowers in front of me, perhaps fifty yards away. I couldn’t make it out at first, but then I heard sounds. It was a woman. She was with a man. I should have looked away and come inside immediately, but I remained. Goddess! I stood there and watched.”

“They were two people in the dark with guards everywhere. They wouldn’t have been making love in the palace grounds unless they were raving mad.”

“Their voices carried and I saw enough. He was behind her with his hands upon her breasts. The woman leaned back and released an incredibly satisfied sigh that carried at least as far as me. In the darkness, I couldn’t see much, but the man was tall and straight. His shoulders were wide, and from the way he held her, he must have been strong. I ran inside and went to bed. I lay there for a few hours, unable to sleep. I placed my hands on my own breasts where I’d seen his on hers. In a way, they were like his hands on me -- a wonderful sensation.” She shot a glance at me, ashamed at what she had done, but not at what she had felt.

“The urges have started then? By a glimpse in the dark?”

“No, Majesty, but it started me thinking. I don’t know if it’s this body or the urges, or if they are one and the same, but the sight of the man, so much larger than I, stronger and aggressive….”

She closed her eyes for a moment and eased into the subtlest femininity. With just a tiny shift, her lips opened slightly and moistened, her head relaxed vaguely to the back and side, and her body — opened, shoulders edging backwards and arms hanging loosely at her sides, a pose suggesting complete availability. I imagined her thinking of a virile male just in front of her, and, although I no longer had interest in women, had I been Tyr, I would have enjoyed taking her immediately.

It was a performance worthy of a passion slave, and she had done it instinctively. I now had a good idea why her serum had been so expensive. Ann would have to be careful with her emotions and instincts in public if she wanted to stay a free woman. But that was something else and for another day.

She even shuddered attractively. “Dana, maybe I have a better imagination than we thought. Anyway, the true urges didn’t start then. That didn’t happen until I saw you and your consort together.”

“What! How?” My bed was behind thick drapes, and she and Wanda slept in their room with curtains drawn and shutters closed.

“Five nights ago Wanda was occupied with the guards. I heard a noise, opened the shutters and peeked through the curtains on my window.”

I forgot all about being a lady for a moment and grabbed her shoulders. “Damn it, Ann! Why in Hades did you do that?”

She stared at me miserably, near to tears again. Waving her arms feebly, she said, “I can’t explain it. When I was a man, I … I think I had better self-control. I was weak, Dana. Wanda was out; I heard you leave the bed and go to the balcony. I heard gasps of pure bliss, and I simply had to look. Dana, my will was gone. My body trembled as I pulled the curtains back. My breasts filled with heat, and desire throbbed between my legs. Watching you was sweet agony. I wanted nothing else at that moment than to be in your place.”

I wrapped my arms around her in an instant. I remembered only too well how compelling the urges could be, and the events of that night. We’d gone to the balcony for a brief time to cool down. We hadn’t done anything scandalous there; the sight of the Queen enjoying her consort in full view of the city would not have been the sort of thing to improve my reputation. Instead, Ketrick had waited until we were just out of sight of my subjects.

We’d stood barely within the doors before he’d opened our robes, lifted me in the air and lowered me, hungry and wet, onto his waiting twyll. I’d wrapped my legs around him and ridden him like a writhing snake on a hot spit, throwing back my head and howling my pleasure. I shook my head. I had a very good idea how that would have looked to an aroused serum girl.

I sighed. “You left off your earplugs, too.”

“I’m sorry, Dana. It was as if I wanted to fail. I know that’s not good enough. I’ve failed you; I’ve failed us both.”

I patted her back gently and smoothed her hair. “All right, all is not lost.”

She drew back and looked to see if I was serious.

I nodded. “I don’t like it, but we still have a couple of months, at least, to work on your fantasy. You know of the serum girl clubs. They satisfy the slut urges within girls such as we, although not the slave urges. Sometimes this is enough, and a girl might remain free for months, years, or even longer if her urges are unusually weak.”

She bowed her head, still ashamed of herself, but her voice steadied, and some of the grit I’d seen in her returned.

“If you send me away, I’ll work hard every day to develop my skills.” She raised her head and those amazing eyes penetrated my soul. “Majesty, in a way, I’m not sorry I went to the balcony. For the briefest moment, I saw what you saw in me. I was her! I imagined myself on the street, enjoying the company of good friends, and men. I would be pleased to be her for the rest of my days.”

“Well, maybe some good will come from this then. Hold onto her, Ann; draw her into yourself. I won’t send you away. We’ll bring the club here. In the meantime, we’ll continue to work on the fantasy together.” I took her head between my hands. “This isn’t close to being over. You won’t become a slave. But now that your urges are here, we’ll have to make some changes.”

***

Ketrick laughed when I asked him that evening. “I’m new to this marriage business, but isn’t brolling another woman an unusual request from a man’s fiancée?”

“If there were somebody better than you, I’d ask him, but there isn’t. I can only ask you to brol Ann. If you don’t want to I’ll find someone else.”

He stroked his chin and considered it -- for about two seconds. “When would you like me to start?”

That was entirely too fast for my taste and I hit him, but not too hard. “Tonight. I can imagine that her needs have grown since I told her about you. She’s seen you in action already and I’m sure she can’t wait to be impaled.”

“I suppose I could start immediately,” he considered. “Do you have the stamp?”

“It’s back in her room.”

“Very well. Stamp her and send her out, unless you want to watch.”

From his expression, I was fairly sure he was joking. “No, and don’t make it too good. Remember what you did to Tisa.”

He nodded. “I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll have plenty left for you when I’m done.”

I gave him a long kiss before I left to return to Ann’s room. “Thank you.”

Ann was already wearing one of Wanda’s tighter slave tunics when I returned. It almost fit. Wanda, although slim, was a little larger and taller, but it wouldn’t matter anyway; it wouldn’t be on her very long.

I collared her and brought the stamp out. Ann had already lifted the tunic from her left thigh. “Ann, this is as close to slavery as you will ever get without a fantasy. Try to think of yourself as a slave and let Ketrick do the rest. Don’t worry; he’ll take you close, but not dangerously so; he is a master of masters.”

“Dana, I’m sorry. I know how you feel about him.”

“Hold still. When you feel the mark of the slave, you’ll become submissive. That’s normal for a serum girl. Call me mistress if you want.” I considered taking her in my arms for a last hug, but it was obvious where her thoughts lay: her nipples already stood firmly at attention.

I took the vaec, stamped the removable ink blotter, and applied it to her thigh. She gasped, and her eyes glowed. “M … Mistress. Goddess. I want to call you mistress.”

“Yes,” I said dryly. “One more thing.” I handed her a dark substance. “Eat it. You don’t want to be caught with child.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She made a face at the bitter taste, but swallowed it all. ”This is really happening,” she said.

“It is,” I agreed. I smacked her cute rear end and pointed. “Now go to your master, slave!”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, and nearly ran out the door. I collapsed in her bed and rolled to my back, hands behind my head.

“Mistress, are you all right?” Wanda asked me.

“Yes.” I sighed and took her offered hand. “It’s just like being in his stable again, isn’t it, Wanda, waiting for him to finish the other girl?”

She shook her head. “Not really, Mistress. I’ve seen him look at you when your back is turned. He has chosen you. You’re very lucky.”

“Thank you, Wanda. I think so, too.” But chosen or not, there was no stopping the wild screams of joy and yells of “Master!” as my consort and fiancé brolled the former librarian into her first series of orgasms. I listened in silence, staring at the ceiling. I did not really begrudge Ann her first time, I decided, even though I was a bit jealous. For the first time I felt that Ketrick was really mine. I didn’t mind sharing him with Angel or Wanda: we had been together and both of them were slaves, but as far as I was concerned, the club was closed at three.

By the night candle, Ketrick had finished with her in about an hour and a half. I had thought it might have been about that. Ann was relatively fortunate. Merton had described himself as having an about average libido, where Drago, and certainly I, had a greater than average burden of urges to overcome as serum girls.

She staggered back to the room half-stunned, a bedraggled mess with matted hair and soiled tunic. I had the remover ready, which was good, for she seemed to be in no condition to think. She sat heavily on her bed, touching a breast with one hand with the other positioned loosely between her legs. She wore the shocked expression of a woman who had just been forced to discard the theory of her body’s use for the startling reality.

I wiped away her slave marking. “Welcome to womanhood, Ann. I trust you enjoyed the experience?”

“Dana,” she said faintly, “I had no idea. After a month of seeing just you and Wanda, I began to see myself as a woman. We are equipped the same; it’s no shock to see you, or to be seen in the bath; half of humanity looks like me. Women’s garments, breasts, saer, squatting -- even the periods I’ve endured are not so exceptional that I couldn’t accept them in time. I’ve had many lovers in two hundred years, and I vividly remember the delights of my wife’s body. She never complained whenever I filled her, and so I imagined that when the time came, after the shock of a twyll entering me, that it would be the same, with me urging him on with womanly entreaties, holding his back with legs and arms, screaming with feminine pleasure -- that sort of thing.”

“Well, you did scream a lot.”

She stared at me. “It wasn’t anything like I’d imagined! He allowed me nothing. He called me slave! Oh, Dana,” she groaned, “he stripped me and forced me to the silks. He was so strong; he dominated me easily with one hand. He pried my legs apart and lifted my rear end to match his preferred angle of entry. He kissed me -- hard -- and I faded before the onslaught. I tried to fight, Dana, but I had little will.” She held her hand in front of her face and made a small fist. It was pretty, but not impressive. She began to cry.

I sat beside the stricken woman and put my arm around her. “It was the slave mark, Ann. It makes any serum girl submissive. That you tried to fight at all is remarkable.”

“After a short time, my body betrayed me,” she sobbed. “It moved to his touch, and he turned me expertly to his needs. Every kiss was fire; every stroke to my breasts and saer left me gasping. He forced me to call him master -- and then he took me! There was nothing I could do except his bidding, and soon I desired to be commanded. When he decided he’d enjoyed me enough, he exploded inside me. He filled me with his seed, and you know what I did? I squeezed him, Dana! Muscles I never knew I had before tonight clamped down and squeezed, demanding every drop, everything he had.” She put her hands to her face and wept. “Goddess! And I loved it! It was wonderful.”

I embraced her shoulders gently. “You’re not a lady who cares for finesse and consideration in the silks. You’re a slut and a natural slave. Ketrick just took you as your nature requires.”

She sighed. “I understand it now. I wanted him to force me, to make me submit. I certainly never took my wife like that; she might have killed me for trying.” She turned her head to me, her brown eyes huge and questioning. “Is it this way for you, too?” She grimaced. “I mean, is being taken as a serum girl so much better than brolling as a man?”

“For me, yes, although I certainly enjoyed myself as a man. Natural slaves are the most passionate of all, but don’t underestimate the effect of a truly dominant man.” I glanced at Wanda. “Wanda, how good is Ketrick?”

Wanda bowed her head respectfully. “Mistress, he’s the best I’ve ever encountered in over one hundred years.”

I spread my hands. “I suspect that with a dominant man all serum girls enjoy themselves more than when they were men. With a master like Ketrick, the experience is further enhanced. Ann, how do you feel? Are you completely satisfied?”

She tallied her needs, then frowned. “Not quite. I must be an incredible slut, for I wish for more.”

“What you wish is to submit totally and utterly to a man. But such behavior can be dangerous. When a beautiful woman desires a dominant male to make her his slave he sometimes complies. Ann, this is the pattern of the typical serum girl. Until she submits completely she will always have that nagging need. It builds gradually over time. She needs men to dominate her more and more to get closer to her natural submissive female core. Finally, the girl can’t stand it anymore and crosses her wrists.”

“Am I a typical serum girl?”

I couldn’t lie to those big eyes. “Yes. And I wasn’t going to bring this up, but I think that you’d make a fine passion slave, like Wanda. But it means nothing. We’ll work on your fantasy. You’ll be the woman you want to be.”

“I will be her, Dana. I’ll do anything. If I’m to be a shameless slut in the silks, then that’s what I’ll be, but I will not be a slave.”

I nodded, and smoothed her hair. “We’ll find a way. In the meantime, you’ll enjoy the Queen’s bed when you need it. It's soft against the back, as I’m sure you noticed.”

“That wasn’t the first time I’ve used the bed,” she admitted. “It was a long time and many mattresses ago, but the frame is the same.”

“You and Queen Prudence?” She nodded. “Oh, Ann, she must have truly loved you, and you loved her. I’m glad for both of you that you found happiness, no matter how brief the time.”

She placed her hand over mine, and her eyes filled with tears.

“The wheel turns, and I find myself on my back where she once lay beneath me. I was young then, and she was a queen in trouble. I loved her, and I think she loved me back -- as much as a queen might love a mundane librarian. I wanted her to be happy, but to be together with her was a deadly risk. To negotiate her right to a consort, I had to leave her, but she did find two decent men, and I’m happy for that.” She made a wry face. “So ends the confidentiality I’ve been known for. I’ve never told anyone this before, not even my wife.”

“The wheel turned for me with your selfless act of love and honor over two hundred years ago. I think the wheel has another turn left in it for you.” I smiled. “You reek of brolling. Clean up and sleep. It’s my turn with the consort.”

I was casual, but the sight of her in Wanda's slave tunic, mussed and soiled, looked too much like a tavern slave for comfort. I couldn't help imagining her branded and collared. Could I endure seeing her, a woman, who, unlike the real Dana, wanted desperately to stay free, cross her wrists? Could I bear to see her sold? Would it be any better if I kept her as my slave, having her attend me, knowing that I'd failed her?

Ashtar, Goddess of Mercy, tell me what to do!
 
 

 
I hope you found this chapter interesting. Queen Prudence does seem to have a large role to play for someone 200 years dead, hmm? It might not be the last we see of her. This next chapter is pretty wild. Events affect Tyra rather a great deal there and change her life. And yes, Merton/Ann has a substantial role to play yet.

Thanks for the comments. They make a termite eater happy. :) ~Aardvark