The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lystra hadn’t left her work in days, save walks around the compound. Even now she ate at a small metal table to the left of the console that had now taken up the whole of her life. She forced herself to eat, not looking at the meal really because it was pretty lavish all things considered. Here she was eating well and living well while her people suffered. Drax came back with stories. There were small victories here and there, but the best they did was buy her people time. The collapse was inevitable. She had seen the burned out villages and seen the dead and broken with her own eyes in her rare getaways from this place. It was so an ordeal for her that it was only with the help of Drax’s spellcasting that she could sleep at all.

Her people needed her and she was dawdling with her good meal. But she was no good to them collapsed in a heap, and she may as well use that time productively while she was essentially slaved to that machine, trying to understand it and learn to speak to it, then get it to do what she commanded. It was maddening. Things would progress rapidly, then grind to a halt with no hint of where to go from there, only to find out later that a single symbol in the wrong place was the culprit. It felt like one step forward and three steps back as she tried to write the machine’s language and then just wait to see what came of it.

A series of tones snapped her from her melancholy, particularly in that they were the sounds of a positive result. She practically leaped from her table to settle into the high-backed chair before the terminal to begin typing to it. She was quite quick with the odd alphabet. There were indications early on that she could eventually speak to the machine, but she dismissed it almost immediately. It would be next to impossible to get her point across in the long dead language. Indeed, it just begged for disaster, so the written bits of the machine language it would be. She let the system scroll its figures before her and she smiled. It was giving her information that she understood and that told her that the systems were coming slowly to life to life.

She waited for the scrolling text to finally stop and waited for a prompt before entering, CMD:L1diag.ex and waited anxiously. She even spared herself a muttered prayer, not for herself, but for all the people that were suffering, dying and depending upon her to save them. Seconds ticked as the machine before her conversed with the one far above her in ways she seemed to grasp far better than Drax or her father. We each have our gifts.

L1diag.ex-ing…

She put her palms together and finally remembered to breathe. Luck, too.

Lystra could finally give her people hope.

Neral left home later that evening to check on the progress of getting the company ready to ride. Making her way through the armory and stables she saw that provisions were being loaded to the pack with the usual sounds of objecting horses and the various supply specialists making sure that nothing was missed or double packed. The officers and enlisted performing those tasks gave her nods in salute as a matter of course, as their hands were usually full in one way or other. Otherwise they went about their business unless she spoke to them because that was her wish. Outfitting an army was the most important part of even having one and she had no interest in everything stopping so they could salute and grovel at her feet as some of her predecessors had. The gesture of respect that she wanted from them was for everything to be as it should be before she set out. Dion would be there somewhere, she knew and it brought her comfort.

She walked through the barracks to find the men and women commiserating, occasionally raucously as they vented tension and prepared themselves, some physically by exercising with one rather sculpted dark-skinned woman doing pull-ups with the metal bars that protruded above the door for just that purpose. Kaled. The name popped into Neral’s head unbidden. The white linens she wore bore hints of sweat and her arms and legs glistened from it. She remained feminine even though Neral suspected she was stronger than some of the men, two fine specimens of which were apparently competing with one another seeing who could manage the most push-ups.

Some were more contemplative, talking to one another at their bunks, wondering what they would find or talking about the revenge that would be meted out to the bandits. Others simply oiled their bows, sharpened their blades, and readied their equipment silently as islands unto themselves. She remembered her days in the barracks and remembered she was more the quiet talker or island. She was so focused on pushing ahead and making her House proud she came off as cold to many back in the day, but she forged deep friendships with those that had the will to put the time in.

One of the men saw her and did a double-take as he didn’t immediately recognize her in more civilian clothing, in this case a long charcoal skirt, pristine white blouse, and matching vest with gold buttons. Her rank insignia rested on the right side, mostly inconspicuously. “General Jaye.”

She raised her voice to be heard over the rustle of soldiers jumping to attention, “As you were.” She waved them off. “I just wanted to see that you are on the path to ready.”

The response reverberated throughout the room and rattled the windows. “Yes, General!”

“Excellent. Carry on.”

She left them be and, almost without thinking of it, made her way through the streets and to the castle. White Guard soldiers saluted throughout and she engaged them now and then as she made her way to the queen’s inner chambers. She could see and took note of all the ways security had been enhanced. One of the new handmaidens moved very normally, but there was military in her eyes. But that was not the queen’s servant that rushed forward to get ahead enough to gently tap the knocker three times to the door. This one looked like a shout would make her vanish.

“Yes?”

“General Neral Jaye to see you, Majesty.”

Neral put her chin to her chest to quell her amusement at the formality.

“Enter.”

The young girl opened the door quickly fearful that she’d actually offended and was somewhat shocked to find the queen already in a long, black nightgown of the finest silk. Lace adorned the bottom just above the ankles and the cleavage. Neral thought that everything she wore seemed more revealing because the queen was plump and that extra thickness seemed necessary to hold up a rather substantial bustline. Her hair was combed straight and her lips carried a sheen with the fire, as she simply felt wrong going completely without makeup.

The young hand maiden was clearly at a loss. “Do you...might you... wish to change, Majesty”

Evaline waved it away, looking at Neral as she made her way to the liqueur sort of enjoying the new maiden taken so off balance. She had much to learn about life in the royal house. “If it mattered officially she would have sent word ahead. Since she’s here otherwise, and in plain dress, it doesn’t, and our good general doesn’t care that I’m not wrapped up in pomp for her or anyone else’s benefit, do you, Neral?”

Nowhere on her person were any trappings of her position and that was all the message that was needed as she stepped to the middle of the room, “Not at all, Evie. In fact, I have no earthly idea how you keep sanity with the endless fussing. I’d drive my dagger through my eye the first time I heard them arguing about how best to pile my hair.”

“We can’t all spend our lives as muck-swimmers while we look for people to stab, can we Bootsie?” She looked to the doe-eyed maiden who was now at a complete loss at the lack of what she saw as even loose civility as Evaline spoke. “Ankle boots, thigh boots, hard leather, soft leather, suede; since I’ve known her she’s always seemed three pairs away from needing a new manor to store them all.”

She looked down at the soft gray suede ankle boots she wore now “It’s a harmless vice all things considered.”

“Save except to anything with a hide.” With a grin, she finally chose to have mercy on her servant. “Thank you, you can go.”

After a quick, deep bow she hustled for the door and pulled it closed behind her. Evaline looked at the door for a few seconds. “She really is a sweet young girl. Sadness touched her. “I hope this place doesn’t ruin her.”

“Court is not an easy place for anyone.”

“It is not.” Evaline deftly handled one of the crystal decanters before her, this one uniquely etched with a serpent’s eye on each side, “May I get your usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” She glanced back toward the door before watching the liquid be poured, “You should have let her stay long enough for her to see you serving me.”

The queen dismissed it. “She would snap, I’d have to call a healer...or several, It’d be terrible.” She glanced to the still stained floor. “I’ve had enough of them for now.” She poured a second glass for herself and handed Neral the one in her right hand before going back to retrieve the decanter to place on the table between them. Sitting down in the chair across from her, “Speaking of healers, any word from yours?” She waved her wrist in the air, letting the light make the woven gold strands look for a moment like they were conducting energy.

“Initial leads did not turn into what they had hoped. They now pursue others. Fortunately, the pool for the skills used against you is somewhat limited. They will not give up.”

“Good. I have faith in yours, dear.”

“As do I.”

“On my own investigatory front, Bae tells me that the more she digs, the more ties to the Draleth she reveals. While there is nothing definitive yet upon which to call it an act of war sanctioned by them and to respond in kind, the future may not be so bright for little Draleth. Ambasssador Xi has promised full cooperation, of course, but, I suspect that he’s full of shit up to his eyes.”

Evaline pondered her friend. “I’m always glad to see you, but tonight I would have thought that you would spend every moment possible with little Khylen.”

“I told her I was leaving tonight. We played, had a good dinner, played some more, I read her stories and we said our goodbyes. It’s easier than saying them tonight, then her having a more fitful sleep because she doesn’t want the day to come, and then have to say goodbye again before she watches me ride away.”

“Easier for her, or for you, Bootsie.”

She took a deeper drink, letting the sweet burn of her throat soothe her. “For both.” She held the glass, swirling the liquid within it. “I have been on her side of it...watching father leave cut like it did the first time, every time.”

“But you saw him off, as I recall.”

“Because it was always my duty. I felt it. I did it, in part, because he needed it. He needed to know his daughters were behind him. Me? I know she is there. She is with me now. Knowing she is behind me and seeing her pain when her father and Bryana left and knowing it is there behind me as I leave? I have always believed that nothing could make me shirk my duty, but part of me wants to turn around, scoop her up, and take her pain away by simply not leaving.” She poured more wine into her glass and swirled that, too.

“But I have a duty and, at moments like this, when I’m called to not just defend her, but defend everyone,” she took a sip, resisting the urge to gulp, “I just can’t turn around, and that shames me too. It’s a battle I lose either way.”

Evaline sighed.“Sometimes you are dim, dear. The why you don’t is because you’ve always seen more than yourself, Bootsie. You go off to fight and you see all the children. You see weddings and days at the park and everyone’s stuff of life. You see it and you can’t not see it. That’s why you have to go. She doesn’t shriek when you go, or claw at you as she begs you to stay. You didn’t and she doesn’t. She has her spine already.”

She snorted before another sip, “Deres says the same thing.”

“Listen to him. Fathers have wisdom, too. Occasionally.” She raised her glass to the painting in front of her. “To fathers and their occasional wisdom. Yours had much even if he was unremarkable on the field.” She caught the words only after they’d been said and looked at Neral apologetically. “Forgive me, Neral. That was...father’s appraisal and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Neral thought about it and knew he would own it himself. “It’s not untrue. As a soldier he was solid and dependable, and he had people around him to make up for his lack of imagination. But there were better soldiers. He lacked the ability to...make the kill, I think. And, not even the ability, so much as the will. It held him back in Court, too.”

Evaline laughed at the memories that bubbled to the surface. “It was your mother who drew the long knives there. I think I learned as much from her as my own.”

“She wields them still.” Both hands relished the weight of the glass, “The heart that kept him from standing out on the field made him an exemplary husband and father. He molded us by letting us be who we would be. Family, yes, responsibility, yes, but, unlike many around us, he never tried to jam us into a mould. When he and mother did occasionally disagree about that….” She grinned now with understanding at memories of those arguments, which, at the time, had troubled her, “there was his fire.”

Evaline concluded the story for her.“She handled Court, he handled home in his own fashion, and thus, all his daughters found their fire everywhere in life. Her voice rose, “And Neral Jaye stands as a fine officer and a fine mother.”

“For now. There are many years for me to find millions of ways to ruin that girl.” Her brown eyes searched for glimpses into the future in the amber liquid as they had many times before. She snapped herself from it and looked around the room to the stain that seemed like its own shadow, “Tell me to shut up as my queen or my friend and I will, but, why haven’t you had the floor repaired; or at least moved yourself to one of the other bedrooms?”

Evaline looked over her shoulder, then looked afraid to speak the words. But, once she gave permission to the first few, she couldn’t make them stop “Because then I would forget. I would stop thinking of him and lying to myself and then I’d forget.”

Neral’s brow furrowed, “Lying to yourself?” She came to a conclusion and spoke, “His death was not your fault.”

Evaline threw back the rest of her glass and took the decanter with a hint of unsteadiness from either the emotion at play, the alcohol, or both, and poured another. “I was prepared for his parents to hate me. I was prepared for her to scream in my face and spit and wish that it had been me. I told them how kind and eager he was. I told them about the friends he made in the castle, and I waited for her to scream that I be silent, that I had no right to speak of him when I didn’t know him.”

“But she collapsed into me and sobbed uncontrollably. The guards had no idea how to respond. I just let her sob. His father just looked at me, jaw quivering, and thanked me for coming. He thanked me...sincerely...for coming to them myself.” The tone turned bitter, “He praised me for taking the time to know him; said it was why Erette loves me.”

She downed that glass, too, quickly enough that she had to catch her breath after. “He was a strapping young man who did his job and, while he was always a bit anxious at first, he certainly knew how to fuck. That’s all I could tell them about him. I just...repeated to them the things those around him told me about him as if the words came from me.”

She sat the glass down before rising with the decanter in hand, her words carrying deeper pain, “They told me stories about him for two hours, and since then...I’ve found myself daydreaming over what I might have ‘lost.’ Wil, the sweet soul who might have been the one I loved if only he hadn’t been torn from me in an act of pure evil; the gallant would-be love who gave his life for me before that truth could blossom.”

She laughed bitterly. “What utter bullshit. Even if he hadn’t been too far beneath me to make the match possible, it would never be.” She took two steps towards the bed before turning and raising the liqueur to his painting, “But love freely given is not what my father taught me. That young man was something to use and discard as soon as he bored me and a new one came along. Father meted out his affections like little rewards for proper behavior. What did I learn? Love is a weapon, and you don’t give people weapons to use against you.”

Spent, she dropped her weight on the side of the bed and sat the decanter on the floor, having a vision of a spill followed by a castle-engulfing fire. And wouldn’t that be terrible. With a heavy sigh she looked over at Neral who was already coming to sit next to her. “I hate you, Bootsie.” There was no hate in her voice or her eyes, only fatigue. “I see you with that girl and I hate you.”

She leaned into the arm that went around her. “You won’t ruin her. I’ve seen you with her. I’ve seen how you two engage one another. You don’t hide your feelings or dole out your love in morsels after she’s begged enough or behaved with perfect propriety. And you don’t spoil her to buy her love. You won’t ruin her in any way that she won’t forgive you for later.”

“Court has been pushing me for an heir for some time. More so now as you might imagine.”

“I’m not surprised. A queen one gold bracelet from death is a cause for concern.”

Evaline followed the lightened tone, patting Neral’s knee. That they don’t need to know about. They do have a right to be concerned,” she admitted. “I do have a duty, but...I’m scared of it, too.” She looked to his visage one more time. Letting those words into the world was no easy task and there were too few in the world she trusted to hear them that wouldn’t see it as weakness.“I do not want to be him. I don’t want my children to...shed the requisite number of tears when I pass while they scream inside for all the opportunities missed and the fact that there won’t be any more.”

Neral said, with granite certainty, “That will never be you.”

“No royal seal to be found,” Evaline teased, “you don’t need to kiss my ass.”

“And without the seal in sight I never would. I know how this works. Your father never would have gone to his home, let his mother cry upon him, or listened to their stories so their son could live again. You care, Evie. I cannot see the woman I know looking into her child’s eyes and chipping away at their heart as he chipped at yours. I’m certain you’d be a good mother.”

“That sure of me?” Evaline was not sure sometimes that she had that much faith in herself.

“I am.” Neral considered the possibilities. “And if I do see otherwise, I will remove your royal trappings and then I will slap you.”

She looked at Neral, knowing it was true and had been true for almost as long as they’d known one another. Neral, when push came to shove, put Evaline, the person, over her role as queen. Even with the trappings Neral would put her in her place when need be; only the sense of formality changed. Neral and Bae were her anchors more than either knew. “You have my leave to do so, even if it’s in open Court.”

“Wouldn’t that be the event of the year for them.”

Evaline loved the thought. The shock value would be a joy, but it would be more. Evaline much liked knowing any children that came would have at least one fearless advocate if and when they needed one. How many of Court would become statues at the sight of Neral bringing her open hand to the queen’s cheek? It was better to think about that than the stained floor and all that went with it.

You can wake up whenever you please, but I have to ride tomorrow. Since it’s that time and I’m feeling rather...mellow from the wine, I’m going to sleep.” She reached down, pulling the boots from her feet and tossing them towards the chairs. They made it more or less next to each other before Neral scooted to the left side of the bed and stretched out, head sinking into the plush pillow of maroon with a gold vine pattern.

Evaline’s heart lifted as she was reminded of nights in their youth when Neral had stayed to comfort her, or just to be there. “And that is to be here?”

“I told you, I have to be up before sunrise and this is the closest bed.”

“I am queen now. It’s unseemly.” her words belied the speed with which she’d settled herself next to her friend. “Hah. Perhaps she will be awake and we will shock the new handmaiden.” She got coy, “More so if we were naked, you know, since you like that now.”

She left out that her husband was a master of forbidden arts and changed, even though it was with her consent. One of the changes the spell made allowed her to respond, “I have...evolved on such matters, as is my right as an adult. Aside from that, it’s no secret where you stand on the issue personally.”

“I could see myself making an exception in one particular case, were she so inclined.” Neral expressed the briefest shock at the idea, which pleased Evaline no end as she stretched out and spooned against Neral, holding tightly to the arm that hooked around her waist. She reveled in the warmth and security of it. “Please be safe, General.”

“That is always my intention, Majesty.”

The alcohol made her warm and added a pleasant heaviness to her eyelids as she watched the flicker of the lamp before closing them. “I love you, Bootsie.”

“I love you, too, Evie. Good night.”

For the first time in too long, she had one.

Distance fostered difference. While technically part of the kingdom of Erette, Idros was very different. Closest to the mountains that sheltered the land from the wasteland beyond and farthest from the reach of the queen’s hand, Idros paid proper homage to the queen, and paid it taxes, but, in the end, was far more interested in the protection of Erette’s military than actual rule by it or Evaline.

Life in the outer reaches was never easy and the response to that harshness usually manifested itself in one of two ways: a completely nomadic existence, or perhaps in small, distant communities that held fiercely onto their sense of independence and individuality. The other option was authoritarianism. One group took the reins and brought the people together. You could agree to accept the will of that group, or leave, taking your chances with the wilderness.

While there were small communities of the former around Idros, the city itself was a testament to a balance struck with the latter. The city of Erette prided itself on its dignity and formality, but it also made an open secret of its ability to look the other way while all types of good times were had. Idros, however, did not embrace its vices. They were there, of course, but here, indulging them could be dangerous if one weren’t very careful, wealthy or not. Formality was the order of the day.

Since Idros was, depending on direction, was the first or last major city in the kingdom to be, it became its own nexus for all manner of travelers. The maker of the poison would be there or at least be known by someone well enough to point to them. The darker edges of society were deeper underground here than in other places because, everywhere, piety led to harsh judgments and harsher punishments.

The city itself favored sprawl over height as though the goal was to be a second wall against the wastes. The highest buildings were either government buildings as testament to the fact that, as much as they felt that they were an island unto themselves, Erette had reach, and the churches. They were towering monuments of gray or pale yellow stone and stained glass that seemed to fight one another to reach the Goddess. They were beautiful by any measure and the steeples reminded Deres, in their own way of the spires of Adar. Those were more reminiscent of the world before the fall, but the desire to reach for something larger than themselves was the same.

Leaving their horses at one of the livery stables outside of town, packs on their backs, the trio walked as a fine snow fell through the city streets on the way to the city seat to see the governor as he seemed a reasonable place to start. Without the eyes of government upon them it often put its fingers into every pie it could find. “Have you ever been?”

With Bryana at his right, he answered, “Many places, but never here, though Neral mentioned it once or twice when she came through to show the flag. You?”

“A few times in my youth. There are places in the mountains a young mage can go to be mentored in secret. I learned at one for a time.”

Elan kept pace easily watching the people mill around the streets and shops in what was one of the more affluent areas. The glass was so clean, it was nearly invisible, letting the stores show everything from fine metal and glass work to clothes. People walked the streets guarded from the cold in heavy wools of muted colors and fur caps. Risque for the women here seemed to be makeup and overcoats with belts cinched enough to point to an hourglass figure. “Would it be better to start there?”

She thought of how that would go and shook her head vigorously, “They would be harder to find and harder to reach, if you get my meaning. They move frequently and cover the traces of their magic well. We could search for weeks in those rocks for the right places. And they generally trust no one, not even other mages. The longer a student is out in the world, the more corrupted they run a risk of being. A mage coming back may well signal them selling out the teachers for their own ends, or somehow otherwise using them.”

Elan couldn’t quite process it. “They would endanger their own teachers?”

Bryana inhaled the chill air, liking the feel of it. There was a crispness to it that was a fond memory. “Many teachers abandoned guild because they had no use for the politics anymore. Others are older and consider it a sort of penance for their own pasts. Between those two points is fertile ground for paranoia, as one lapse in judgment could doom the future of all of them. They will not help us.”

Deres looked down the street, having a tendency to see the things that others might miss or choose not to see, coloring them with his own upbringing. From the crafts in the shop windows, well made but plain to signage that didn’t seem to go out of its way to lure customers, it all came across as oddly modest.

He spied a young girl of ten or eleven huddled under one of the awnings ahead with a tablet of paper that she was holding up in front of passers by who mostly ignored her. Some looked at what was on the tablet and nodded approval, but otherwise did nothing but move on.

Bryana saw where his eyes went. “She has to sell something. Try to beg and she’d be arrested for sloth and vagrancy. Try to steal and...you’d better be good and be fast. You’d rather be a vagrant child in that case.”

He noted the number of uniformed soldiers in the street. Erette had its share, of course, but these ones seemed to be on patrol. “If I didn’t know better I’d think the place was under martial law.”

Elan answered that point. “The governor saves money by using the garrison as police. General Jaye and the queen command, of course, but, since an invasion, much less a surprise one is unlikely fo come from the mountains, there is little for most of them to do. Many troops rotate through here, as it teaches them that they do not have to always be hammers and not every problem is a nail. It has done much to reduce tensions between the government and the poorer quarters.”

The three closed the distance on the girl. She looked in fair shape until they drew closer to see the threadbare light blue coat streaked with charcoal and boots that were beginning to pull away from the soles. He looked at her fine blonde hair dark eyes and saw much that was familiar. As she saw them approach she held the tablet before them with both hands as if to force their attention onto it. A bird of prey on a cliff ready to swoop downward. There was fine detail in the feathers and the eyes had texture and the feel of life. “One silver,” she said almost questioningly, as though she’d take what she could get if pushed.

He looked at it. “Very good. Less good if it’s wet though. Your work?” It wouldn’t be the first case of a more sympathetic face selling for another or a decoy being part of a greater scheme.

“Yes, sir,” she answered with the exuberance of a salesman. “One silver. You won’t find a better artist on the block either.”

It was Bryana that answered with the question, “Is there another one on the block?”

“No.” The girl shrugged. “Best artist on the block.”

Bryana gave him the side eye, “She does have your what you call wit.”

He ignored her. “You have an other or others you share the street with, or do you have a home?”

Deres couldn’t tell if she was offended at the question or if she just feared that they were some kind of authority. “I have a home, winter’s hard is all.”

“It is,” he agreed. “You do faces, nameless artist?”

She sat the tablet down carefully and opened a worn black satchel as she spoke. “Tahna.” She pulled out another tablet and flipped through them. “Parents. My brothers.”

“Those are good,” he said, and Elan and Bryana agreed.

He reached into his pocket, “Tell you what, one silver for the bird, the rest is an advance on drawings of each of us.”

She anxiously watched him count the silvers and put her hand out to take them. “Minimum ten more for the work and more if we like them. I don’t know how long it will be, but it will be days at least before I can return. You will be here?”

“If you owe me money, I’ll be here. Besides, it’ll take me a few days anyway.”

Deres smiled warmly. “Good. You remember faces, yes?”

She looked them over once more, but it seemed to be more than to appease him than anything else. “If you owe me money, I’ll remember you.” With that, he grinned back.

She carefully removed the drawing from the tablet and held onto it while he pulled the pack from his back and tucked it carefully away. “Pleasure doing business with you, Tahna.”

As they pressed on Bryana looked upon him. He was a good man when those early years before the miracle of stealing from the wrong soul created a new path for him when those formative years could have turned him dark and bitter. Hindsight wounded her when that reminded her that she had taken that path for far too long. She woke up every day resolving to do the right thing more often than not and so far it’d proved a good strategy.

They walked from that particular merchant arm of the city to the city seat; a renovated church itself. It was smaller in and of itself, but with buildings added to either side in meticulous replication of the architecture and a courtyard it took most of the block. The church had four tall spires to give it the illusion of greater size with the tallest front and center with the Goddess peering over the city with her arms outstretched.

Up the many steps and through the door their boots clicked the floor. The windows still held the stained glass representations of the faith from crusades, to noted instances of Her benevolence. Their bearing suggested authority and some of the lesser staff took note. Almost at once they were met by a middle-aged soul with deep set green eyes and a balding head that he did his best to cover with hair from the other side. His paleness suggested he never left the work much. He bowed slightly. “I am Gresh Tallin, third deputy assistant to Governor Waylan. How may I assist you?”

Bryana pulled back her cowl and matched the depth of the nod. “Greetings. I am Bryana Lia, member of House Jaye. We come on an urgent matter on behalf of Queen Evaline and require an audience with Governor Waylan.”

“The governor is quite busy. Do you have an appointment?”

“We don’t.” keeping her tone measured, she hoped that they would not have to dance long. “The situation evolved quickly, so there wasn’t time to make all the proper arrangements.”

His tone remained pleasant, if a touch put upon. Governor Waylan is a very busy man. He’s currently preparing for tonight’s festivities and is indisposed.”

Deres set his jaw and pulled the silver necklace with the royal seal out from under his cloaks. “Is he indisposed now?”

For all intents and purposes he was standing before the ruler of Erette and Gresh knew it. His nostrils flared and the put upon tone vanished once he completed his deep bow to Deres and the put-upon undercurrent vanished. “He is, as a matter of fact. He is shopping and is unlikely to return before the festivities. You are, of course, invited to attend and speak with him then.”

“There’s no way to get a message to him?”

He was diplomatically apologetic. “Governor Waylan’s tastes are eclectic. There are any number places that he could be. Realistically, in the time it could take to find and summon him the ball could well be underway. Since he is certain to be there...”

Deres quelled his annoyance, not only at having to wait for the whims of time and a flighty governor before he could press on in his efforts to find the one responsible for the poison threatening the queen, but for another bit of Court nonsense that he loathed even in the best of times. In his mind’s eye, he could easily picture Cassea Voss, Court liaison for House Jaye mocking him not so gently.

He was certain that he saw a bit of that in Bryana’s eyes anyway. But, at least there was sympathy in Elan’s. He would take what he could get. Tallin misunderstood the look. “In the meantime, please think of these grounds as your home away from home and rest assured, not only will I give him the message personally the instant he returns, I, and the manor staff will prepare you for the ball in manner befitting your station and giving proper respect to the queen.”

Deres’ broad shoulders slumped as he accepted the inevitable.

Tallin, true to his word, wasted no time and apparently spared little expense in getting the city’s unexpected guests ready for what the trio was told was the governor’s birthday celebration, though he liked to throw parties often. Merchants brought in the finest clothes from the finest shops, coming in and out of the lavish quarters Tallin provided like an insect swarm. It was short lived though, as none of them were particularly interested in being fussed over. Deres finally insisted that the people coming in and out just stand in a line with their personal favorites and the three would pick. After doing so, everyone was dismissed and the three dressed.

Deres was happy to be left alone with his thoughts as he dressed. There were too many things gnawing at his mind. The queen was fine for the time being, but the blade or its maker had to be found and it was frustrating that they seemed no closer to either. Then there was Neral, off to face bandits or Goddess knows what. Risk was the very nature of her business and every time she did head to the border or slap down bandits there was a danger. If there was a positive in this quest of his, it was that he could not dwell on what she may be facing. He heard her voice in his mind telling him that she could take care of herself and he needed to stay focused.

Then there was Khylen. He missed that smile. He missed everything about her and longed to hold her and teach her and simply be with her. But, in a sense, she concerned him least. She was safe and sound and surrounded by people who loved her. He smoothed out his gold jacket with a fine, wide diamond pattern he wore with matching pants and a crisp white shirt. He thought he looked ridiculous, but he often thought he did at any of these Court functions. At least I don’t have to fuss with that damn cape.

He buttoned down the jacket and left his chambers. Far off in the distance, nobles were already milling in two by two in a way that sort of looked like a casual march. Between him and them stood several small groups chatting. He homed in on Elan and Bryana, noting the way Bryana towered over her in a gray dress with embroidered leaves and Elan in a black dress with a white collar and cuffs and a belt with a small white buckle that served to accentuated her figure, Elan having picked it because it reminded her of her formal military garb. None of the guests looked what one would call plain, but they were certainly modest.

Elan tailed her hair in a way not unlike Neral while, for Bryana, blonde hair came down in soft waves before they gave way to spirals of very tight curls and both kept the makeup decidedly minimalist. He eyed them warmly. “Be careful, ladies. I can see ankle.”

Elan looked at him, “Being a woman is scandalous enough here apparently. I’m not sure what showing ankle would do.”

“Ankle is fine,” Bryana answered. “Much higher and you will stop hearts.” Bryana exaggerated, but not by much. She looked around with some mirth, “Also note that women here dare not show cleavage. Scandalous.”

“I like cleavage,” Deres said with a bit of a pout.

“I’ve never noticed,” she deadpanned.

“They are always quite clean after a bath with you,” Elan said softly, but without any real effort not to be overheard. “You are conscientious and it’s appreciated.”

He much enjoyed her dusty dry humor. Looking ahead to the processional to the ballroom he quelled a grimace. “Shall we get this over with?” He offered each an arm and they hooked their own around his and made their way to the line. Tallin had been waiting for them in the vestibule and ushered them in, much to the confusion of those at the gate confirming invitations.

The ballroom nestled behind the main building was ornate in the extreme. The walls and dome overhead were decorated in such a way as to most compliment the church, with painstaking recreations of scenes depicted in the Works of the Goddess. They were beautifully done and Deres took a few minutes to tour and take them in before the formal procession, which he was used to by now, enjoying that he now had position of his own and didn’t have to rely on the skill of the announcer not to make him sound like a leech.

There was a long rectangular table, presumably for the most honored guests with round tables in a three-quarter circle around it. Fully half of the room was meant for dancing and otherwise mingling, which is what everyone set about doing as they waited to for Governor Waylan to make his grand entrance. Deres, for his part, stayed close to the familiar. A rather dashing older gentleman offered his hand to Elan who accepted graciously, leaving Bryana and Deres together on the dance floor together to a rather lovely slow waltz. “If he has to be late, there are worse ways to spend the time.”

They slowly spun around the floor and Bryana made note of the smoothness at which they did. “This is true. I do enjoy a dance partner with some skill.”

“Some,” he admitted, his voice slightly on the quiet side. “Aside from the social niceties, many instructors at home thought it good for learning casting as it teaches rhythm and coordination between voice and movement.”

Bryana could well see the practicalities there, but she loved to dance because, when one meshed with a skilled partner it could feel like she was flying and that was glorious. Her mood turned concerned if not somber. “Any new word from Neral?”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes untroubled “But there’s no reason to expect any either, so I’m taking that as good news. I expect she will rout the bandits, go home, and will be there waiting when we return.”

She gripped his leading hand just a touch more. Her mind’s eye longed for it “That will be a lovely sight. In the meantime, we at least have each other.”

Bryana looked into those boyish blue eyes and saw his love for her. It was a feeling that had been largely foreign to her until she’d crept into General Jaye’s bedroom one evening on a mission of corruption and evil, the unexpected turns of which bound her to them through magic, years, and life. Sometimes there was still a voice that whispered that she didn’t deserve it, but the time between those whispers grew longer and longer as time passed. “I love you, too, Master.” She put a touch emphasis on the last as she knew tweaked his heart and parts south.

The corner of his mouth turned upward. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyes did.” Her voice turned tender. “Your eyes always say much.”

“I’m glad.” He swallowed, “Because sometimes I’m not sure I say the words. Sometimes I’m not sure I have the right words to tell you and Neral how much you mean to me. You’ve given me life in more ways than you know and sometimes I think ‘I love you’ pales.

“It’s enough,” she assured him, their dance slowing a bit. “I dare speak for Neral when I say that she would tell you the same. We anchor one another and that security is a joy.” She seemed to find this moment the right one to broach something that had remained on her mind since they’d entered the city. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“When you were speaking to Tahna earlier, you asked her if she had an other or others she shared the street with. Did you?” His time on the streets before being whisked away to Adar wasn’t something he talked about much, and when he did, he often dismissed it with a quip and a subtle change of subject.

A bit of his boyish charm faded as his eyes drifted to his past. She felt his body tense a bit and she was just about to tell him to forget she’d asked when he uttered, “Brandt,” so softly she almost didn’t hear it over the music. “Alone on the streets is hard. With others it’s a little easier...to make your way and to not be lonely. You could join a gang but...they tend to turn on one another if there was some good fortune.”

He remembered more than one street brawl to illustrate the point. One or two together worked out best. We watched each other’s backs. We were friends.” His heart turned heavy. “He got sick with a fever. He got sick and I couldn’t get a healer to him. I got food...water...herbs. I did what I could, but...”

Her hand went from his waist to his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Deres.”

He took a deep breath to steel himself for the part of the confession that cut to the quick. “About a month later… I met mother and off I went. If he were still alive...I never would have gone. Mother might have taken him, too. She probably would have, but...that didn’t need to be a choice.”

She finished it for him, feeling his pain, “And so there is that place inside you that cannot get past the idea that his passing was a... good thing for you.”

His eyes misted, coming closer to her, to hug her even as they danced. “I feel like I have...everything, and he just didn’t get the chance.”

“He was your friend. I know that he would be happy with your good fortune and your life. You honor his memory and that’s one of the many reasons I’m proud to call you mine.”

He just let himself float in the serenity that came with feeling her that close to him and they danced until a Court official that none of the trio had met bellowed in a loud baritone that filled the room announced the arrival of Governor Waylan.

Taking the cue, he walked out with a prideful smile. He was of average height with a hint of a belly that suggested that he liked his position. His long coat was deep blue with gold trim at the lapels. It walked a line between the modesty of the region and a desperate call for attention. His cheeks were full with the beginnings of jowls and his eyes scanned the room as he took in the applause, bowing humbly now and then.

It wasn’t long after that that they were seated at the governor’s table before a meal of fish, fowl, vegetables and fruit imported from the corners of the known world that was sumptuous even by the standards of the Royal Court. Birthday wishes were exchanged and the governor made a blissfully brief speech, giving thanks to the assembled guests for joining him and speaking of his hopes for the prosperity of Idros and that achieving those goals would be his gift to himself and the people in the coming year.

Deres, with years of tutoring from Cassea, had learned to put on his best diplomatic face in Court, though he doubted he’d ever be completely comfortable with it. “I regret that we did not bring a gift on behalf of Queen Evaline. Had we known...”

“Think nothing of it, please. The queen sees to it that her gift arrives on time. It was received early this morning. Please convey my thanks when you return and wish her well, particularly after the reprehensible attack on her person. I do hope she is fully recovered from what was no doubt a traumatic experience. It is a terrible shame that Erette is so plagued with darkness and evil. If only it could take more of a lesson from Idros.”

“She is.” He was careful as to what to reveal about events and deliberately chose to ignore the slight. We come to you though because, as the last great example of civilization before the wastes your city is a hub for all manner of individuals to pass through. As that is the case, we seek an alchemist of great skill, yet one who works in the shadows. We don’t have a name for this person yet. Honestly, we don’t know for certain if it is one person or several in tandem. We have few connections in this area so we come before you because a fine leader such as yourself, or someone in your venerable staff might be able to point us in the right direction.”

His tone was friendly if gently scolding. “While I would be pleased to be able to offer any sort of help in this matter were I able, I simply would have no idea where to point you, and, to be blunt, I would be aghast if anyone on my staff did either.” Waylan looked around to see jutted chins and looks of pride and approval from the table so he continued. We simply do not deal with that sort or allow those dealings within the city. Someone in the frontier may be able to help you, but I do not know who that might be, though I wish you luck in your quest.”

Deres paused, leaning into the table slightly. “Surely a man such as yourself...a man with such power and influence that he governs one of the great cities in Erette...” One of Cassea’s first lessons, one that had proven more true than not in the intervening years, was that there was no such thing as too much ego stroking.

“I realize that more,” he groped for a word that would not offend, “cosmopolitan areas such as the capital can have an underbelly filled with all manner of crime, filth, and general immorality, but this is something Idros has largely escaped. People can walk the streets at night in near perfect safety and security.”

Bryana couldn’t help but notice the qualifier from her seat opposite Deres and next to Elan, “Near?”

“Yes. We aren’t completely bereft of crime, but that’s a testament to our own flaws in the eyes of the Goddess.” He went on to quote the Works, “The greatest enemy of the soul is the frailty of its vessel.” Waylan looked almost sad and many at the table either shared the look or nodded in agreement. “By resolving to live to the teachings of the Goddess and creating an environment where others can do the same we have eliminated many of the ills found in the world.”

He proudly puffed a bit. “By embracing progressiveness, one embraces permissiveness. That permissiveness leads to sin and the evils that go with it.” His tone took a slightly darker edge. To know any of those types of people or to knowingly allow them to congregate here endangers our persons and our souls. That I will not allow.”

His voice carried and, when he finished, soft applause could be heard from the table with the others following suit.

It was a rather effective little political speech, and that’s all Deres thought it was. Certainly, he may not have been involved with the unseemly parts of society, but to be completely ignorant of them and their workings and their needs would endanger his position, particularly so far from the capital. Mage guilds had the virtue of wanting and needing to be buried from all the eyes of society and to limit contact. Most counterfeiters, thieves, and the like didn’t have quite the same luxury as they were a significant portion of the local economy even if few saw them.

“Things are better here than the likes of Erette or Calos,” Lady Besche told them, looking around the table, almost daring anyone to dispute her. When no one did, she continued, “Idros is clean. I cannot walk through the streets and see gambling dens, harlots, and waves of drunkards fighting in the streets.”

Deres looked at her trying to keep from laughing, “So if you don’t see them they aren’t there?”

Besche managed not to roll her eyes, but did talk down to him a bit. “I’m sure they can be found here, but we don’t embrace that sort of behavior. We quash it when we see it so they stay in their little corners of the world and away from civilized people. Permitting those people to run unchecked poisons the rest of society if you let it. Normalizing it only leads to the degradation of the body and the spirit to the point where families themselves are tainted.”

Bryana tilted her head, “Families? How so?”

She now squirmed somewhat uncomfortably as she contemplated it. “A man and wife and...the Lord has had children with the maid, the Lady runs to meet with the stable hand. It is wanton sin and that’s not even discussing the appalling nature of the adultery itself, they act as if it’s all somehow permissible before the Goddess. ‘Unto the Goddess a man and woman are bound’, she said firmly. “Works 1:8.”

“Her love lives boundless in the souls of all who have seen Her light and follow Her path, Works 1:6.” Elan began, her voice firm from growing up in study of the Works and being pushed by the priestess to make herself heard. Now it was heard as resolve and Deres liked the sound when it came. She was one more for quiet contemplation, so, when she had that tone, it was driven by conviction.

Besche’s brown eyes flashed surprise. “That which is bound to Her will forsakes all other paths, for they lead away from the Goddess and to the Depths. Works 2:12.”

“Her love is boundless. As her vessels, share it without reservation, for its light leads to Her joy and righteous hand. Works 4:1.”

Bryana looked between Elan and to Besche with some pride.“She can do this as long as you can, Lady.”

“I’m sure she can,” Waylan interrupted gently, trying to avoid escalation “but there’s no need for that. We can agree that there are different interpretations of the will of the Goddess and they each have validity as witnessed by the fact that Erette the city as well as the kingdom prospers, as does Idros.” His green eyes gave Besche a sidelong glance as if to end the discussion, which it did, though she stiffened in her chair and couldn’t stop looking annoyed.

Deres clenched his jaw for a moment. They needed what they needed and he was the best chance to get it without spending who knows how long looking under rocks. On top of that, he simply didn’t like the piety. If people wanted to live to a different standard, that was fine, but to lord that over others was a step too far for him. They were no better than anyone else and a lesson to drive that home might be required.

Both goals might be attainable via a single action.

He looked to Bryana, who seemed to read his mind even if only through the mischief in his eyes. She gave a slight nod, ready to back him no matter what he chose to do. Elan knew that look as well and waited with some interest and excitement to see how it might go. Deres opened himself to see the threads of life and how they coalesced in the bodies of each individual in the room. How that life coalesced into the unique person could be described as a ball of energy, each feeling a colored bit of energy that melded with the whole as a mass of hues that one could read, pick apart...and play with if you had the skill.

Some had almost luminous reds and greens that told him him they were generally energetic, intelligent, and fun-loving. In others those notes were muted. Others with darker green shadings were more emotional. They all melded in unique ways so that no one was simple and they all melded together with one another in a sense. It was how a few strong voices in a crowd could get a mob to join them, and why man was a social creature in the first place. That energy mingled together even if they didn’t realize it.

He sought the maroon tones of passion muted and desire hidden. They existed in all of them because they existed in everyone everywhere; desires unrealized and secret lusts not acknowledged, much less sated. In a repressive culture like this one they were almost threads of swirling black the maroon was so restrained by the gray of will and yellow of shame. Others had maroon in brighter tones which made Deres wonder what fun they had behind closed doors. Looking at Bryana, he saw her working the other end of the room, her magic, weaving, binding, and preparing.

“Everyone has temptations, don’t they, Governor? I mean, you do like to shop, for instance.”

He shrugged. “It’s a harmless vice. I don’t spend beyond my means and there are so many lovely baubles to be had.”

Deres looked thoughtful before he conceded the point. “That’s true, I suppose. Temptations though, yes?”

“Benign ones.”

“Still...” Deres looked around as he watched and listened to the murmur of conversations and laughter. There were, of course a fair share of mature, established nobility, but there was an abundance of examples of the young and beautiful there. Idros had more than its share of tall and chiseled, “temptations” all the same. “Temptations are wonderful things, Governor.”

He gestured under the table, tweaking the energy he sent out, just enough to dull the grays and yellows and blow on the embers of maroon. “Baubles are lovely, but not particularly forbidden and I have to say, I find the most forbidden temptations the sweetest.”

“They are,” Waylan agreed, but also the darkest because they lead one from the light of the Goddess to the depths.”

Bryana looked around noticing the subtleties of the spell’s effects beginning to take hold at the tables. The murmurs had died down somewhat and people leaned into one another more closely either to hear what was said or, Bryana suspected, just to get closer to one another. The maroons brightened as the grays slowly paled. One man two tables over inched his hand over to caress the back of his wife’s and Bryana watched her passion flare before strands of gray clamped down upon it. Outwardly, she stiffened, but Bryana noted that she didn’t move her hand from his reach. Even the servants were beginning to react to what they were feeling and what was going on around them; the women adding a certain come hither sway to the hips and the men puffing their chests outward.

“Erette has found a good balance, if I may say,” Elan said, her warrior’s eye seeing the subtle clues from the people around her, including the slight swagger in the demeanor of the mages, so she decided it might be helpful to nudge that along. “To prove stronger than temptation is a grace of the Goddess; to be immune to temptation is divine, Works 8:15. It is always there. She knew it always would be and that we flawed creatures would succumb more often than not.”

She unbuttoned herself at the collar and let another one go with it, improper, though not quite immodest. “Much of both city and kingdom accepts that. We are weak and mortal and occasional gluttony feels good.” She let her voice carry without seeming to shout. “Blind lust feels good. It simply does. Denial weakens you.”

Besche took a deep breath that quivered slightly on the exhale. There was a quote of the Works that countered what Elan said, but she couldn’t quite remember the words, which she found odd, but, no matter. “So you rush to the depths happily?”

“You accept that you will occasionally stumble, as the Goddess accepted it because we’ll never be divine,” Elan countered smoothly. “One proves stronger than their temptations when they do not surrender to them forever, when they choose this sin over another and another and do not follow the path. She wished and expected us to do the right thing more often than not. She does not expect perfection.”

Elan admitted to herself that the slow descent into lust that was happening around her was beautiful in its own way, more so because Deres willed it. She tried not to think of the latter much or she’d melt all on her own. Across from her, she saw a noblewoman with sandy blonde hair delicately remove the pins from her hair, letting the tresses fall halfway down her back before running her fingers through it. Elan noted the look on her face that was a mix of shame and relief. That small act was a breaking of chains, and more would follow.

Following suit, Elan let her own snow white hair go free. “Sharing love is not sin. It’s not filth. How could love be a filthy thing?”

Bryana looked around the room with a mage’s eyes. She was still feeding the atmosphere with her own magic as was Deres, but more and more of the guests were feeding that energy themselves. The more they acted out or permitted others around them to made their magic that much easier to spread. The husband who was holding hands with his wife pushed the plates to the floor, several of which shattered as he lunged forward to press his lips to hers. As the others at the table gasped, some of those sounds were more of lust than shock. In response, her hands went up as though she’d met an attacker in the dark for long moments before she whimpered in surrender, now using those hands to hold his head to her.

Even as Bryana looked around her, Besche was struggling to answer the question, focusing inward. It’s so warm in here. How did...how did it get so warm in here? She was feeling prickly all over as she reached to unbutton her own dress. The air hit the damp skin of her upper chest and she shivered, the full body shake reminding her forcefully that there was heat settling inside her that was beginning to demand attention.

Waylan looked around the table and then around the room. Things seemed...off somehow. The usual talking had more or less stopped and more and more of the touching going on seemed strangely inappropriate. It was like watching the situation through a thin layer of gauze. “Does...does anyone else see anything strange?”

Bryana spoke in a casual tone as she walked to stand behind Deres who was still seated. With some sense of relief herself, she began to shed her formal attire, slowly revealing the tattoos that marked her guild and enhanced her power. They were intricate, beautiful, and hypnotic in their own way. Most of the men tracked her, though she wasn’t offended by the fact that two of them, maroon tones now bright and dominating were looking at each other over their own wives. “Nothing strange at all, Governor. They are simply showing love.”

Some sense of normality pulled itself back to the front of his mind with the sight of her. His mind couldn’t make the leap to mark her as a forbidden mage, but he did grasp the closest thought to mind. “Sin. Sin all around.” His eyes drank in the sights and his ears bathed in the sounds of sex. One woman now had her bare feet over the shoulders of a now shirtless noble as his ass pumped in jackrabbit thrusts, anxious to seed his mewling partner.

At another, a noblewoman was nowhere near noble she was pushed over her table, bracing herself on both hands as one man plowed, grabbing the wadded dress still bunched around her in both hands as leverage while another woman slapped and bit her heavy, hanging breasts. The mauler giggled while the woman moaned as milk sprayed from those full tits into the mauler’s waiting mouth.

Before his eyes now was a naked Elan, her pale body a testament to the power one could train into a small frame, pulled Besche’s chair away from the table and turned it so that Besche’s confused, dreamy eyes faced him. Elan’s creamy white ass faced him as well and, while his mind actively entertained how long he might last before he filled her with seed, she helped Besche squirm from her own dress. The woman herself was plain in appearance and outwardly unremarkable, but as Elan kissed down her body on her way to the floor Waylan’s cock pressed against him with ferocity when he realized she had just the body he liked, breasts that were firm handfuls and a hint of soft at the belly, thighs and ass. She’s so...feminine. Her marriage dissolved some time ago and Waylan was waiting a respectable length of time before asking to court her, but there she was now in all her glory.

He ached thinking things he’d never thought of before, at least not in such in such a crass, vile way. Bryana seemed to sense it and she urged him. “Say it. Say what you want to say. Release it.”

“I want to love you, Lady Besche. I do.”

Bryana prodded, “Love?”

His hand pressed against himself in the sudden shock of seeing Elan effortlessly spread Bresche’s knees as far as they would go. Those eyes were lusty and, he knew, seeing the world through the same haze as he was. They also seemed to be strangely empty, but even that was arousing. That she was murmuring, ‘No’ and ‘Please’ as though she were at war with herself was almost...decadent.

Almost as decadent as the shriek when Elan’s tongue touched her clit to drag it upward. The Lady’s thighs shook and her eyes crossed as the war was happily lost. The soldier was in control, she knew it, and she liked the feeling. Bresche was open to some sharing of the Goddess’s love and if Elan could do that and teach a bit of a lesson in the process, so much the better.

Bryana straddled Deres in his chair with a grin as she let a fingertip caress his cheek before lifting his chin to her. Such a nice and noble man, yet you have such a fun bit of wickedness that you like to play with. You’ve so wanted to do this at the Royal Court, haven’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

His arms went around her, lightly massaging the small of her back before kissing her, “It seemed the...nicest way to apply pressure. And these people looked like they could afford to loosen up now and then. As for Court...I admit I wouldn’t mind enjoying the queen’s attributes.”

“I noticed, not that you make it obvious, as that would be in poor taste.” More dishes crashed in the background and several male and female voices made their orgasms known. “Though these ones seem to be loosening nicely, Master.”

He clutched her to him at that word. “I’m glad you can appreciate that little streak of wicked in me.”

“I love you, Deres, same as I love Neral, same as we both love her. We all appreciate those parts of one another. Aside from that, I still remember and enjoy my wicked side now and then.” Her eyes seemed to twinkle in love and lust as she looked upon him. “I remember enjoying it more before you ruined me though.”

He smiled. What had been such a deadly serious night so long ago was now the stuff of fond memories. “I’m not really sorry about that, especially now that we are where we are. Worked out well for me all around.”

She grinned and nodded slowly. “It did.”

Deres nipped at her neck while she deftly worked to release him from his coat as she sighed. With a pang of regret he pulled himself away from her neck long enough to tend to business. Before he could form the words though, Bryana’s voice had an uncharacteristic edge of command to it. “Stand up.”

He looked at that naked, delicately ornate body, the artistry on her skin in balance with her bare flesh, and heard that tone and his cock, already hard, demanded that he obey. He knew where the command went and it was somewhere he was aching to go.

He stood, unsure which of them was more excited to unleash his long, thick cock as she whispered to drive him. “On my knees for that beautiful cock, Master. You want that, hm?”

“You want it too, Bryana.”

She kissed his lips as she spoke. “On my knees, looking up, gauging your pleasure...reminding myself of the place I’ve chosen.”

“Giving me something you give no other in quite the same way.”

“My tongue caressing and loving the most intimate parts of another? Few deserve it.”

There was a deep purr from his belly that she felt as he cupped her ass in both hands. Perhaps she felt what he wanted to hear in that purr that stirred her heart. Perhaps she just knew him well enough to know what he could hear that would drive him. Perhaps she just said it because for her it was the truth. “You deserve it, my love.”

“Do it.”

Her knees found the floor quickly and she gave his belly a playful lick before licking his cock from base to tip from the top, bottom and sides as if from the four points of a compass, relishing that each time it bucked in desire and a droplet of precum fell to leave its mark on her chest. “Deres, ordinarily, I would wait until your business is concluded, but what fun would that be?”

“Hm, still e...” ‘Evil’ died on his lips as hers became the center of his universe. She swallowed him whole, eyes closed and throat relaxed so that he could reach deep. Breathing slowly and carefully through her nose she alternated between letting her throat flex and relax to stimulating him to allowing her gag reflex to have control just long enough to bathe him in saliva as she cradled his balls. Once she had settled in she melded her eyes to his and those eyes smiled seeing his pleasure, her own enhanced by that and the feel of his strong hands behind her head.

He held his breath until the need to moan passed.“Do you wish to partake in this lovely dream, Governor?”

It was only then, as the mention of his title, that he lifted from the stupor that watching the room had put him in. Caution and propriety were gone now. Couples were writhing on the floors and on the tables in what seemed to be a mad dash for everyone assembled to fill their holes as rapidly as possible and keeping them so for as long as they could. His arms and legs felt bound to the chair and the floor, but he attributed that to the burning haze in his brain. He focused on Deres using the mouth of one of his companions clearly not his wife. “Dream?”

Deres looked to the governor for a moment. “Of course it’s a dream. How could it be anything else, Governor? In what reality could the Court of Idros descend into such a sinful display of cock sucking, cunt lapping, and hole stuffing. Wouldn’t it have to be a dream?”

He looked around. It all made sense now. Of course. It’s a dream.

“Why shouldn’t you be part of the dream?” Bryana’s eyes took his attention again. “You cannot be held to the filthy whimsy of your sleeping mind, can you? You could fuck Bresche. She has your eye. Anyone here will be open to your needs and your touch. You can sate yourself, then you will all dress, return home, and awaken in the morning all having shared a lovely dream.” His voice firmed. “But dreams realized have a price, Governor.”

His brow knotted hard. Breshe was sweating, cumming and begging for more of that tongue up her snatch. Goddess, that she could even know such an obscenity is so hot. “What?” Whether that was a question as to the entirety of what Deres had said or what the price was, he wasn’t sure.

“There must be things that you want that are hard to obtain, from baubles, to people of great specialties...or great and gray specialties. There must be ways, Governor. There must be someone, even here. Who is that someone for you?”

Waylan debated. He followed the path of right and truth laid for him by the Goddess, and, while he never strayed much from that path, there were times he wanted something that drifted just a bit over into the realm of gluttony, so they would be hard to find here without help. Why not tell? It was a dream anyway, and if he told, he could play. “Dennet.” He slurred the word slightly. He can lead you to anything or anyone that can be found in the reaches, especially darker and sinful things.”

Deres had to moan. Bryana could just be too much. He cleared his throat, “Where can we find Dennet?”

“I don’t know.”

Deres tormented. “If you want to dream with us, I need the truth.”

His voice held a desperate edge at the idea of being denied. “I don’t know! He travels all over. He travels constantly. I...leave a message with a merchant at a souvenir kiosk in the district. I leave it and he comes eventually.”

Deres didn’t like the sound of that and looked to Waylan again. “Eventually?”

Fear welled as he saw denial again in Deres’ eyes. “Hours. Days. Longer. I suppose it is a matter of how far away he is when he gets the message.”

Deres did not relish more waiting, but he knew Waylan wasn’t leading him astray. “You will remember to send the message tomorrow.” His words were commands so they would imprint on his soft mind. You will remember to send word tomorrow. You will send word, vouch for us, and whatever else needs to be done to bring us together.”

His head bobbed. “Yes. Of course I will, first thing.” His voice turned timid. “May I...dream?”

With all done that could be done at the moment and Bryana’s argument for attention becoming ever more compelling he gave in himself. “You are free to play, Governor. Play and enjoy.”

Waylan bolted from his chair, finally able to see with crystal clarity the object of his desire. He pushed Elan from Besche without malice, lifted her by her wrists, and pushed her back onto the banquet table. She giggled as he splayed her legs again and he took in the sight of her body and inhaled her arousal. He drank in her body and could have done that all night.

And her dirty laugh and the way she looked at him, “Are you just going to look all night or are you going to stuff my snatch?”

Oh, how he loved the words from her mouth, “Filth, woman. I want to hear you speak as though you want to defile the Goddess Herself.” He still simply stared at her form, his arms hooked around her legs, enjoying the feeling that he owned her just then. He barely noticed Elan undoing his pants, but watched intently as Beche’s hand grabbed his cock firmly and slit the tip up and down between her thick, wet folds.

“Fuck me, Arik. Fuck me hard. Pound that thing into me without mercy. Make every thrust its own vile sin. Do it...do it...do I….mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

He drove home with an abandon that he hadn’t felt in Goddesss knew how long and forgot everything else as he did what a man was built to do.

Bryana sucked like a proper whore and his spine came alive as Elan kissed her way up it until she came around his right side to be nearly nose to nose. “Kiss me, Vessen.”

It was said with tenderness and she knew she mattered more to him than some empty thing a lesser man would have made a puppet of. It was a command because she needed it to be, because she loved those best.

Her hand went over his chest to feel the beat of his heart as she obeyed.