Getting Spanked in College

It felt strange to be in his rooms again. The suite felt too big somehow - the open spaces and extra corners gave her a slight uneasiness. Her room had been small; with the walls at her back she had felt secure. It had fit her well. But with the hell she went through last week, she was willing to leave it for a new beginning.

Even if this place was too... lofty. There were too many windows exposing her, too many chairs to sit in, and too many random decorative objects. She warily eyed a vase shaped like a bird, its open beak holding a colorful array of flowers. After living with the bare minimum, everything else seemed unnecessary. It was exhausting even to figure out where to put her things. She had attempted to set her small bag of worldly possessions on a free chair, but there was a finely woven blanket with tesselating birds already covering the seat.

As if catching the direction of her thoughts (or maybe the emotion was strong enough for him to feel it?), the chancellor turned to see what she was looking at and shrugged.

"My housekeeper has done the majority of the decorating here. I'm afraid I'm not in much."

Well, she supposed that explained the unnecessary amount of pillows on the bed. Was one shaped like a swan? The housekeeper clearly must have something for birds.

Avi didn't recall this excess of avian-themed furnishings last time she was here, but she supposed she had been... more distracted. Most of the pillows and blankets had been thrown into a big nest on the bed during her heat. A flush rose to her cheeks at the thought of the servants having to clean their previously used bedding.

She glanced over the remainder of the room. Twisting her vision to handle the glare from the chancellor's relic, she noticed again the spellwork surrounding his bedchamber. The intricate lattice of purple fire still burned in the walls - clearly Resmond liked his privacy. They looked like wards, encasing the ceiling and floor in an intricate web. Something about them nagged at her somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on it.

It had taken her an embarrassingly short amount of time to gather up her things. All she had to her name was some secondhand clothes that barely filled a cloth bag. He had looked away when she was packing; he had been uncomfortable seeing how few possessions she truly owned. Luckily, they had made the trek over to his chambers before dawn fully broke through the sky. Avi didn't think she could stand the shame of walking through the servant's hallway on the way to the chancellor's rooms; there were so many rumors of her "working on her back" to climb socially that she generally avoided meeting the servants' eyes nowadays.

Avi was surprised at how embarrassed she felt living with someone for the first time. She wanted to clean the sticky evidence of last night's activities from her thighs and empty her near-bursting bladder. But did one just... use the chamberpot with someone else in the room? He seemed to sense her discomfort though and gave her a knowing smirk. He escorted her to the bathroom, and then removed himself to his antechamber, out of hearing range.

She was grateful for the privacy. After relieving her bladder, she admired the bathroom. Cool sandstone tiles covered the floor, each one cut carefully into a hexagonal pattern. A large circular window of stained glass let in the morning light, shining cheerily on an ornate sink and sunken tub. An elaborately wrought mirror hung over the sink, the polished silver reflecting the dawn rays. She cleaned herself off and washed her face, feeling considerably more refreshed afterwards. She chose her least frayed dress from her bag and shrugged it over her head before exiting the bathroom.

He had changed already into what she considered his palace outfit. He seemed to have an innumerable amount of black robes all cut carefully to his tall figure. She supposed they must hide stains easily. Tilting his head to gaze at her in that considering way of his, he seemed a bit lost at the situation. It reassured her that she wasn't alone in this - he clearly wasn't used to living with another person either. What did a couple even do together in the morning? Should she kiss him goodbye and wish him luck in breaking the rebels, and assure him that yes, she'll have dinner ready when he returns? She laughed a bit to herself at the absurdity of their relationship.

They ended up sharing in an awkward and brief nod instead before they left for their separate tasks - he to the palace, and she back to the healer's lodge. Happily, the rest of her day passed uneventfully.

Wisant seemed relieved to see her interacting more normally. When she asked him a question about his day, his tense shoulders relaxed further. The only time she had used her voice the last week was to respond to any direct enquiries with monosyllabic answers. In classic Wisant fashion he did not probe as to what led to the change in her demeanor. He was always happy to let her reveal when she was ready.

When they finished for the day, she wasn't quite sure what to do next. She was joking about making him dinner this morning, but did he expect her to bring up his meals now? She didn't think he would... he had so many staff around that having her be his sole chambermaid seemed unnecessary. She also wasn't sure what time he would even return, so she followed her usual schedule, just in case. For all she knew, he typically ate in the palace nightly and then she would be left hungry for the rest of the night.

After finishing her dinner of bread with goat cheese and sausage, she hurried back to the main house. Keeping her eyes down, she tried her best to ignore the servants' conversations and their sidelong looks. Her steps faltered when she overheard a snippet of "rebels caught" but forced herself to continue. She knew she wouldn't be able to hear more of the conversation by stopping anyway. They usually clammed up whenever they saw her around. She kept her eyes lowered as she walked through the main entrance. The guard did not acknowledge her, though she recognized him as the one who brought her from her room previously.

Quietly she moved up the staircase, now shrouded in shadow as evening darkened. Strangely, she did not feel afraid, though the environment was still so new for her. The dim hall was comforting somehow, and she found solace in the way it obscured her from prying eyes. The thick carpets absorbed her footfalls, the interlocking geometric patterns still vivid in spite of the gloom. Her shoes were thin with wear, and when she wiggled her toes she could feel the plush texture beneath the cloth. She thought of all the hands it must have taken to create each of these carpets - the indigo coloring alone must have been a fortune. While her family had been comfortable, she had never seen this level of luxury.

The hallway on the second floor was better lit, still catching the last of the summer rays. It gave the corridor a faint otherworldly glow, feeling more like a favored memory than real life. A golden vase and matching candlestick glimmered in the nearing dark, luminous in the encroaching shadows. Further in the hallway behind her, a servant girl was just starting to light the long, tapered candles set evenly throughout the hall. Her footsteps left a comfortable echo against the wooden floor of the second level. Avi kept to the shadows though, not wanting to interact with the housemaid if she could avoid it.

At last she reached his door. Her heart fluttered seeing that he had left the door ajar for her. The large windows of his rooms with their clear, expensive glass allowed more light than in the hallway. As a result, the doorway glowed brightly against the shadowy depths of the rest of the passageway, as if highlighted. After waiting a heartbeat, then a second to gather her courage, Avi opened the door.

He was sitting at his desk, looking over a sheaf of papers. She took a moment to admire his profile. He had a lean but not gawky build. Though he sat casually at the desk, something about him reminded Avi of a snake coiled but ready to strike. His long, straight nose gave his face a regal appearance, though his eyes and mouth were stony and inscrutable. Those eyelashes though... once upon a time she would have sold a part of her soul for such dreamer's lashes.

She walked over to him, peering over his seated form. Glancing sidelong, her eyes scanned the top paper he was reading. The coarse and fibrous paper was covered in symbols she didn't recognize. On the edges of the page were knots tied in thin string, seemingly in a random pattern. She quickly looked away.

"Sorry! I didn't see anything important," she babbled, starting to back away from her position just over his shoulder. Clearly, it was some kind of important coded message. She was expecting a harsh reprimand, but instead he just snagged one arm around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. Once he settled her securely on his thighs, her back snug against his chest, he continued his perusal. His chin rested on the top of her head comfortably, as if this was how they usually passed their evenings. She squirmed on his lap, causing him to move one arm down to hold her hips still.

"If you continue your squirming I'm afraid I will be very distracted from my work," he murmured into her hair. She could feel his cock starting to respond to the feel of her bum on his lap. She stilled.

"Should I be looking at this?" She queried, wondering if the king would be angry that she had clearly seen some sensitive messages.

"If you can decipher this code, I'll hire you myself," he responded, giving the part in her coppery hair a small kiss. Now with permission, she looked over the document in intense interest. The characters meant nothing to her though, with their alternating circular patterns, each featuring an intricate pattern of ticks. Periodically the small knots were sewn into the paper itself. Her finger came up to stroke the thin thread, a pale red against the cream fiber. However, she couldn't see a pattern to start deciphering it. She didn't even know if it was based in Common.

She raised her chin and voiced loftily, "I had no idea Portaugh had so many resources left at their disposal," putting as much cool indifference in her voice as she could in an attempt to mimic the chancellor's tone. There was a pause and then he broke into abrupt laughter. He hugged her tighter on his lap but did not elucidate further on if she were right or wrong.

His free hand put down his paper after a few more moments and he started playing with her frayed sleeve. It was the dark green gown she got from Wisant's daughter, now quickly one of her favorites. He frowned seeing the worn out edges, his fingers gently touching the underside of her wrist. She turned her forearm to allow his exploration of her skin. The sleeves were too long for her, so she usually folded them over whenever she needed her hands. His fingertips traced over the resultant wrinkles at the edges.

"We should get you some more clothes. It'll be cold here soon. Our autumn and winter are chilly compared to your sunny Visgath," he softly intoned, his mouth now close to the shell of her ear. Avi felt herself relaxing into his embrace, comforted by his even, gentle stroking of her arm and his large presence behind her back. Who was this tender person, holding her like she was something precious on his lap? Offering to buy her clothes so she wasn't cold when the first snows fell?

"Can they have openings for pockets?" She queried back, half in jest and half serious. She was rewarded with another laugh. Enjoying his benevolent mood, she allowed one of her burning questions to be released.

"Where did you get the clothes from? The ones I wore to court?" It seemed very unlike him to just have a set of revealing silks easily at hand for last minute court appearances with a pleasure slave. He wouldn't have had much time to obtain them either.

He stilled at her query. His head backed away from hers, as if trying to put as much distance from her question as possible. His hand dropped, ending his soothing circles on her wrist, his hold on her hip immediately slackening. His mouth flattened into that familiar tense and cold line. She regretted ruining his contentment, and had just started to apologize when he responded.

"My mother."

'Oh okay. How strange,' Avi thought. That he would go to his mother and request clothes for his slave like that, but perhaps she should be flattered he had spoken to her right away? Did his mother have a pleasure slave?

"They were hers."

Well. At first Avi was embarrassed to have worn basically his mothers lingerie, but then she took a moment to consider. These were bed warmer clothes. No self respecting servant would ever wear something so sheer, so revealing, let alone a lady of standing. It seemed unlikely his mother would own such a thing. Unless...

"Was she a pleasure slave?" Avi ventured. His mouth tightened further, a confirmation to her interrogation. Her heart tightened - so he was likely a bastard. The life of a pleasure slave was tumultuous enough, let alone the son of one. Avi felt terrible for her intrusive examination.

She wondered how many in the court knew; Balen followed a patriarchal inheritance, and most court rank was based on the status of the father. To have an unknown father and a mother a slave... it was incredible he had risen so high. She let him have his silence and did not press further.

But after a pause, he glanced at her. He looked like he wanted to make an effort to continue for her sake. Taking a deep breath, he continued,

"Yes. She was a harem slave. I never knew who my father was, and if she did she never told me. I was twelve when they discovered my Relic. The prior king took me away for training... They knew I would be useful. She was devastated." He paused again, collecting himself. His fingers continued to be clenched into a tight fist though, knuckles white. This was not history he had ever willingly shared.

Avi caught the past tense of his sentence - she was a harem slave. Avi hoped, prayed that meant she was now freed, maybe that Resmond had bought her out. But the weary emptiness in his eyes told her that this wasn't the case. She felt like she was watching an accident in real time, but couldn't stop herself from asking,

"Is she still in the harems?"

"No." A pregnant pause followed. The silence felt expectant, like the way one expects to vomit when the nausea starts. In the way that one knows to expect the bite of a sword when one's head is on a chopping block.

"She killed herself less than a year after I was taken into the king's service," he said in a small, low voice. Was the first time he had ever told anyone this?

"I was able to keep some of her things after. A trunk is all I have left of her. Looking for those clothes was the first time I've opened it in years."

She had never seen him this way, so sad and withdrawn. Vulnerable. Immediately, she turned around and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. She was a healer; she wanted to hug the pieces of him back together with her arms. He tried to move to get out of her embrace but she just squeezed harder. He eventually relented, and laid his head on her shoulder. He was quiet, almost eerily still.

She stroked his back and murmured encouraging words against his dark hair. She felt like she held a child in her arms, and perhaps in a way she did right now. The part of him that was still thirteen years old. The part that must have died when his mother did, a part he had buried with her body. He eventually encircled his arms back around her and she kissed his head. Her shoulder felt wet under his face, but she didn't bring attention to it.

She couldn't imagine what that must have been like, growing up seeing one's mother a slave in the harems. Seeing the way she must have been treated, not to mention being lonely and outcast as a bastard. No wonder he had never taken a pleasure slave; he must see his mother in every face. No wonder he felt riddled with guilt. He must have felt that being claimed by him was no different than his mother's situation.

Gods, and being forced into servitude for the old king as a twelve year old! She remembered the thin old scars she had traced on his body - were they from the training? There were healed whip marks on his back, even before they had gone to the court together; she had felt them often under her fingers when she had clung to his back during her heat.

Then finding out his mother had killed herself... leaving him an orphan in a world that must have only been cruel to him. She squeezed him all the harder. Now, she understood his reaction that night when she had been thinking about ways to end her life. It must have been a devastating thing for him to feel through the bond, to have felt the only other person he had gotten close to in his life threatening to leave him in the same, permanent way.

He eventually calmed down and leaned back to look at her.

"Thank you," his eyes were still red rimmed at the edges, his expression hollow. "I've never told anyone that," he admitted. "King Joren's court is not a place for weakness. And certainly not in a position like mine, as you've seen," he said bitterly. He stared forlorn at the claiming marks ever present on her neck. "Not that I'm much better than the rest of them."

"You aren't like them," She admonished forcefully. She knew he was still feeling guilt over their binding. "It was my choice too. A difficult one. But mine all the same."

He lowered his eyes, and she could see he did not believe her words. So she kissed him, letting her actions try and convince him instead. Pouring her whole being into this physical connection between their bodies, Avi tried to convince him that she was here now. They were just two broken souls, trying to survive in a needlessly cruel world that had taken everything else from them. Perhaps between the two of them they could be one whole person.

He eventually broke away from their kiss to catch his breath, but laid his forehead against hers. His warm hand rubbed her back, drawing her closer to his body. He swept her hair away from her shoulder, and ever so gently moved her collar up to give reprieve to that small area on the back of her neck that always chafed. She almost whimpered a small sigh of relief at the pressure change. He leaned forward and gave the area a gentle caress with his lips. Though the skin was still marred, the kiss healed a part deeper within herself.

His hand wrapped around her waist again, finding the ticklish area he had noted from their first time together. She squirmed away from the sensation, causing him to grip her hips tighter. Just a touch too late though, as she could feel his length hardening under her bottom from her wriggling. She held her breath in anticipation, waiting for his strong fingers to reach up to her breast and pinch a nipple, or perhaps delve in between her gently parted legs...

But he did neither, his hands staying resolutely at her shoulders or waist, his lips just a ghost of a touch at the back of her neck.

Instinctively, she understood. After the reminder of his mother, he wanted her to lead if she wanted more. Otherwise he was content in just her nearness. She would take initiative if that's what he wanted; she purposefully arched her back, lining up her ass just right against his rigid shaft below her.

He purred in her ear at her purposeful twisting. But he didn't do anything further, waiting instead for her next move. She felt empowered, bold as she decided the next steps. She turned and met his gaze. He smiled lazily, but his eyes were intent on her every move. Predatory.

She wiggled again. His eyes glinted, his cock twitching in response. She turned to straddle him fully. She lowered her head to kiss his neck. He bared it for her, and her heart fluttered at the control she had over him at this moment. Tentatively, she licked at the hollow of his neck, feeling the strong thrumming of his pulse as she did so. She followed with peppering that long column of skin with soft feathery kisses, feeling his hum of appreciation underneath her ministrations.

Needy now, she brought her chest up to his mouth. Understanding her intention immediately, he closed his mouth around the pebbled outline of her nipple peaking through the fabric. His mouth soaked through the dress, and she moaned. He bit gently at it, causing her pussy to clench emptily. He lathered it further until she was panting. She was ready and did not want to wait any longer.

Grasping the front of his pants, she undid the clasps until his proud erection sprung free. She adjusted her skirts until her wet slit was bare. Without further teasing, she sank her ready center onto his cock. She panted as she tried to take him fully. He had closed his eyes, his mouth open in pleasure. After working him against her entrance a few times to push him deeper and deeper into herself, he finally sank completely to the hilt inside her.

In the heat of the moment, he sought her mouth now, his lips crashing against hers. Her tongue came to battle against his, tasting him deep within her mouth. She continued to ride him eagerly, balancing her hands against his shoulders. His hips snapped up to meet her each time, helping to bury himself within her willing heat.

He always felt so deep in this position, almost too much as he hit the end of her slick channel. But she couldn't stop herself. Couldn't stop forcing him as far as possible each time. She fucked herself hard, rough, and fast. Soon, she felt the beginning of her climax start.

He reached down between them as he felt her start to clench, and rubbed her clit. She broke. The white hot pleasure tore through her, and she gripped him as she came explosively. Swearing, he gripped her hips almost bruisingly hard as he came with her. She could feel the hot spurts as he emptied deep inside her, almost bringing along a second orgasm. It was one of her secret excitements, having this evidence of his pleasure inside her.

Afterwards they lay panting, forehead to forehead. The light sheen of sweat on hers mingling with his. Their salt mixed with no way to ever separate them. She leaned back once she caught her breath and looked at him, really looked at him. He gazed back, unflinching and steady. She only saw one thing in his gaze now: adoration. Total and complete.

She had to look away at the intensity, instead resting her head on his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his heart relaxed her like nothing else could. It was like taking a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a musty room, like the first sip of water after a long day. She felt herself drifting off when he laughed softly against the downy copper of her hair.

He picked them up, still connected, and brought her over to his bed. Their bed now, she supposed. After laying her down gently, he disconnected their bodies with a brazen squelch. He walked away to the bath chamber, bringing back a clean towel.

He gently cleaned both of them off, then took off her outer dress. After lifting the edge of the covers, he tucked her in the bed, bringing the soft down covers to just under her chin. When Avi made a small sound of protest as he left back to his desk, he brought his papers to bed to work instead. Changing his clothes, he joined her under the covers. With one arm snaking out, he brought her over until she was snuggled against his side. She eventually fell asleep, her head cradled against the crook of his shoulder.

The next morning she felt a kiss on her head, before feeling the pillow underneath her shift. She realized the warm surface under her cheek was actually Resmond's chest - she must have slept on him the whole night.

He was murmuring something, and she clung to him to stop him from moving his delectable warmth away from her. But he was shifting underneath her still, angling his body and sliding her slowly off. She realized dimly he was trying to tell he had to leave for work. Sleepily, she tried to throw more of her limbs onto his body, but he wily managed to slip away all the same. She thought she heard a low chuckle through her sleepy haze. He dressed quietly as she drifted back to sleep.

A span later she awoke at her usual time. Stretching luxuriously, she delighted in the feel of the silky sheets and blanket against her skin. She had not slept that well in... months. Certainly not since the siege, followed by her capture and subsequent auction into slavery.

She padded over to the en suite bath chamber. It was a luxury to wash her face in an actual sink, with its own water pumped up to the room. One tap even brought warm water directly. It was an amenity few could afford, and she spent a bit appreciating the feel of it against her face. It had a vaguely sulfurous smell and she wondered if there were hot springs somewhere in the city. She had heard and read so many things about this enemy capital, but unfortunately had seen little beyond the walls of the chancellor's compound.

Eventually, she made her way down the stairs and exited the main house. She was overly conscious of people she passed, though the guards were well trained and did not acknowledge her. She could feel their eyes though, burning into her back as she walked away from the main house.

It was worse once she was in the courtyard, already fairly populated this time in the morning. The servants cast her furtive looks - she had only just moved into his rooms, so of course everyone already knew and it was common knowledge. She knew they would all think she was a whore trying to better herself by seeking his favor. Probably thought she went into heat deliberately to try and force a bond.

Luckily, Wisant was his usual calming self. If he had heard any rumors or seen any changes, he kept them to himself. It had been a fairly quiet couple of days and everything was well stocked. After a couple of hours of inventory stocking to confirm that everything was indeed in tip-top shape, Wisant dismissed her. He was planning on staying around to catch up on some letters and would be around if anything happened.

Avi vowed to do the same for him tomorrow. He smiled - he was looking forward to visiting his family once again. She helped him prepare a small tincture of silphium to bring as a present, though she wished she had something more to give as a thank you for his family's kindness.

With the rest of the afternoon to herself, she returned to Resmond's rooms. She reminded herself - her rooms now, too. She found that everything had been tidied since last night- the housekeeper must have been in to check. The blue aura was missing from the area, indicating that the chancellor must still be out. She fished out the puce vial, and inspected it in the bright sunlight of his antechamber.

It would need only a drop of blood to reveal if she were pregnant. It was basic alchemy; if she had the pregnancy hormone in her body, it would filter into a dark red. If she didn't, then the blood would bind with the reagent and turn it clear.

She admired its current color in the glass vial. The liquid shimmered and swirled hypnotically in the bright sunlight. She set it on the table and looked for a pin or something sharp on his desk. In an unlocked top drawer she found an intricate letter opener. It came to a fine point, the silver gleaming and polished. The handle was carved ivory, depicting a ship on a stormy sea. It was just the right instrument.

She brought the tip of his letter opener to her left index finger, but before she could prick it, her collar heated up and started to tighten in warning. She dropped the letter opener as her hands instinctively went to her neck. The thin knife fell to the floor with a loud thud. The collar loosened, appeased that she could no longer try and hurt herself.

She gasped for breath as the collar cooled, rubbing the red and raw mark on her neck left from the metal. She felt despondent. Never in her life had she felt so completely powerless, robbed of even the autonomy of checking herself for pregnancy. The will of others swept around her constantly like a strong current, and she was forced to follow their path.

All the unfair nuances of her slavery seemed to culminate in this single moment - forced servitude, an unwanted heat, then an unbreakable bond made of necessity and not love. Even now, she could be pregnant, her future bound to his even further. And she couldn't even control her body enough to prick a single drop of blood for the test.

She could feel tears welling up, but she wiped them away in anger. Sitting on his chair, she forced herself to take measured breaths until she calmed down. Once she felt more controlled, she picked the letter opener up, placing it on top of the desk. She would have to wait for the chancellor and enlist his help. She had been hoping for the privacy of finding out first; she had wanted the time to grieve privately, if needed, before telling another person.

Her body still felt restless and agitated, even though her mind was calmer. She was itching to take a long walk and explore the city as she had done at home, but she couldn't do that either with the collar. Fearing the stern gazes and waggling tongues of the servants, she couldn't bear to go out and walk within the walls of the compound.

So she paced. She roamed around the room aimlessly, stopping sometimes to handle a random trinket that showed her nothing about what kind of person the chancellor was. Just empty baubles placed there for his amusement. She wondered idly if that was all she was to him as well - just an ornament, to be used at his pleasure and then set back on the shelf when he was busy with other things.

She tried to call to mind the warmth she saw in his eyes when he touched her, the way his arm curled possessively around her waist. She was at least a cherished toy. For now.

Her feet found their way into his bathroom. In the corner was the sunken tub, tiled in a complex swirling mosaic of blues and greens, accented with a dusky purple. She spent a moment tracing the line of purple with her finger, admiring the way it arched elegantly around the circular border.

Surely he wouldn't mind if she bathed in his rooms? There were two taps at one end, she presumed for hot and cold water. She fiddled with both, the ensuing water flow confirming her suspicions. She had never taken a warm bath outside of the public bathhouses in Visgath. While those experiences had always been more of a perfunctory cleaning, this tub was an exorbitant luxury. The slightly acrid sulfurous smell floated above the water, but she didn't mind.

When it was half filled, she carefully removed her clothes and tidily folded them on the edge. Tentatively, she toed the water and found the temperature to her liking; warm, just on the edge of hot. She lowered herself onto the smooth lip near the bottom that provided a seating area. She sighed in pleasure and leaned gratefully back.

The bath water continued to fill around her as her muscles loosened in the pleasant heat. She found a bottle within arm's reach. Uncorking it, Avi gave it a tentative sniff. It was an olive oil based soap, mixed with sandalwood and something citrusy. It smelled almost like the chancellor, but was missing a more piney and musky smell that was distinctly him. It felt comforting to have this bit of him though, and her bond trilled happily.

It was such a far cry from the blocks of raw, stinging lye soap. She lathered it luxuriously on herself, working it into her skin and scalp. When the water was a handspan from the edge, she turned off the taps. Laying her head back against the tile, she closed her eyes.

She must have drifted off because the next thing she heard was the sound of footsteps entering the bathroom. She startled, wondering if she should be in the tub. The water felt cooler around her, though still retained a small amount of remaining warmth. She must not have dozed too long then. Opening her eyes, Avi saw once again that calm, floating blue.

Her heart beat a bit faster and she turned around. She was eye level to the chancellor's shoe, now just a few inches away. Her eyes started to trace his long legs up to his face, but he was already leaning down to her.

His eyes were dark as they raked over her exposed body, the soapy lather still clinging delicately to her golden skin. There was an empty ceramic pitcher next to the bath, a typical feature to help aid in cleaning. He lifted the delicate terracotta handle and dipped it in the water, the smooth edge scraping ever so slightly against the side of her breast. She wondered if he did it on purpose.

Without saying a word, he gently poured the water over her head, taking care to avoid her eyes. Slowly, he worked his elegant fingers through her hair, detangling her thick tresses. They were so long and dextrous, she wondered if he would have been a musician in another life. One in which he had had a choice.

When the first pitcher was empty, he gathered a second pass of the scented water, using it to rinse out the rest of the soap. His fingers lightly massaged her scalp, and she almost moaned at the sensation. He bent his head down to her ear and whispered,

"Close your eyes."

She obeyed. Suppressing a shiver, she half expected to feel his lips replacing his breath at the shell of her ear, or perhaps those lovely fingers tracing down her neck to touch her mark...

But he just poured a small stream of water over her face to clear the rest of the suds, then patted her eyes dry with a clean towel. She reopened her eyes to watch him. His eyes were focused on his task, now using the small towel to gently wipe down the rest of her body exposed above the water line. When he was finished and her body fully cleansed, he stood up and held his hand out to her. She took his warm palm, her wet hand leaving a small mark against the sleeve of his dark robes.

He helped her step out of the tub. She felt like a nymph, the way her damp body emerged glistening into the golden sun. His eyes watched her hungrily as she approached him, though his facial features remained as impassive as ever.

He wrapped her in a larger towel, holding her briefly against him for a moment. She inhaled the scent of him, that fragrance that she couldn't recreate despite using his same soap. His body heat soothed her more than the bathwater. He cradled her there against his chest, despite her damp hair starting to soak through his outer robes. She was forever ruining his clothes.

When she started getting cold, he finished wiping her dry. He helped her into a set of fresh clothes, handing her a blanket when she still shivered slightly. This one was thankfully not decorated with fowl.

She licked her dry lips. What did one say to one's new mate when they returned home? Did she ask him about his day? Would he respond 'fine, just some light torture and other spy stuff'?

Luckily, she recalled her dilemma from earlier. This seemed as good a time as ever to enlist his help. She cleared her throat and his gaze swept to her immediately.

She fished the small puce colored vial from her earlier clothes and held it for him to inspect. His eyes seemed to understand immediately what the contents entailed. He eyed it speculatively.

"So, what did you find?" He asked, trying to keep his voice casual. Again, she felt that despondent feeling rise inside her. That feeling of being caught in a current without any control. She quashed it before she could let it overwhelm her again.

"I... I can't prick myself for the blood. Not with the collar," She explained, trying to keep the hurt frustration out of her voice. His eyes filled with pity. Then he cocked his head to the side and gave her a peculiar, leading look. Like he had figured something out and wondered if she did too.

But all he replied was,"Would you like me to do so?" Numbly, she nodded. She unscrewed the top of the small container and set it on his desk, where all of this mess had started. He picked up the letter opener. If he noticed it wasn't in its place in the drawer he gave no indication.

He came closer to her, the ornate ivory handle of the sharp instrument looking well balanced in his hands. He held it smoothly, surely; she wondered how often he must use a knife. She knew he kept at least one thin dagger under his loose over robe, and she had felt the imprints of others when she had leaned against him.

When he reached for her hand, she resisted the urge to flinch away. She knew it would hurt him. His touch was so tender though as he stroked her palm, his callouses lightly tracing over each finger. He held her hand securely in his, and he brought the sharp tip up against the pad of her index finger.

"Are you ready?" He queried, his eyes soft as he gazed on her upturned face. She nodded, keeping still.

She felt the light prick, and saw a vibrant ruby drop well up where the knife had entered her skin. She saw him casually slip the sharp implement into his pocket from the corner of her eye. Quickly, she turned to the table, allowing a single drop of blood to fall into the open vial.

It sizzled as it touched the potion, then bubbled until it turned clear. A beautiful, pristine purity, as crystal as a mountain spring. Immediate relief flooded through her body.

Not pregnant.

The coil of anxiety she didn't even realize she was holding inside her slackened and relaxed as she gazed at the potion. She looked up at him.

"Not pregnant." She watched his face carefully, wondering how he would take the news, hoping he wouldn't be disappointed. His arms came around her, and he pulled her back to his chest, tucking the top of her head underneath his chin.

"Are you alright? How do you feel about the result?" He asked against the crown of her head.

"Relief. Are you mad?" She asked timidly.

He laughed. "No. I'm hardly fit to be a father. And certainly not in this court."

"What do you mean?"

She thought she had a reasonable perception of the realities of birthing a child as the chancellor's slave, but wanted the clarification. Wanted to hear him say it to be sure. He was back to stroking her lower back with his fingers, hesitating just a moment to collect his thoughts.

"I think the king would see it as a just compensation that any Elsar daughter should be given to him. To make up for claiming you."

Avi felt the trickle of fear go down her spine at these words, though she had suspected the same. A slave would birth a slave. It was possible that any child of hers would be enough Elsar to produce the same pheromones and reproductive quirks that made the Elsar so desirable to possess. She couldn't imagine carrying a child to term, raising them, and then watching them go to the very harems that had killed the chancellor's mother.

She grabbed the collar of his mantle. "I know how to make a heat suppressant. It failed this time, but it must have worked enough to prevent a pregnancy. I think it should function properly now that I can do magic in your presence."

"Oh good." He said, and gave her a wicked look. "I was worried I would have to lock both of us up in separate cells your next heat."

He bent down to kiss her. It was as passionate and desperate as their recent pheromone driven embraces. It was all she could do to cling onto the collar of his robes as he poured his desire into her mouth. She eventually broke away. Breathless.

She flexed her fingers on his cloak collar, and felt the left come back sticky. She pulled it back, and realized that her finger had still been bleeding rather briskly and had pooled onto the fabric.

As easily as breathing, as easily as water overflowing from a full glass, her magic poured and sealed the wound. There was no bottleneck feeling here. She felt the magic shimmer warmly under her skin, even repairing the rest of her claiming mark. She gasped at how easily her magic worked. Clearly, something about his presence unlocked something about her Relic.

She pulled the high neckline of her dress down to take a better look at her healed claiming marks. The scabs were completely gone, the scars flat as if months of healing had passed. The area around the bite marks shimmered faintly in the dim light, excited to be in the presence of their master.

He growled seeing them glow, and leant his head down to lick at it. It made her gasp at the sudden contact, and she leaned into his touch. That almost uncomfortable erogenous sensation was there, but with it brought the undercurrent of desire. She rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat causing him to chuckle. She loved the feel of it, that deep baritone rumble against her cheek. She felt a dark privilege each time he made that sound - he was clearly not someone who laughed often.

Determined not to be the first one naked this time, she clawed at his clothes as he suckled her at the juncture of her shoulder. She removed his robe, casting it on the floor and kicking it away. There were several unexpected heavy thuds as it hit the floor. She knew one was the letter opener, but wondered about the others.

Her fingers nimbly moved to his shirt as his mouth moved up higher on to her neck. He was desperately working on marking her at another location clearly.

She managed to get the shirt off too, feeling the edge of knife sheaths built into the wrists. How many weapons did this man carry on him? She didn't think she had ever undressed him right after he had returned from the palace.

Eventually she shimmied off his shirt, before making short work of his pants. He stepped out of the remaining fabric (and removed a bracer on his leg containing yet another knife), gloriously naked for her. She sank to her knees, keeping her eyes fixed on his. He was clearly very excited by this prospect, his erection hard and solid against his abdomen. Her tongue swirled around each testicle first, taking the right gently into her mouth with a pop before moving on the left.

He sighed contently, angling his hips forward to bring himself closer to her waiting mouth. She licked up, bathing the underside of his shaft with her soft, warm tongue. She left no skin untouched, even lapping the precum clean from his weeping glans.

Groaning, he thrust deeper into her open mouth. She took him eagerly, trying to suppress her gag reflex as he hit the back of her throat. He shallowly pushed in and out, his hands coming up to grip her hair. His movements became wilder and less controlled. He began inadvertently hitting her gag reflex each time, causing her eyes to water. When he was right on the edge of climax he moved to pull out of her mouth, but she gripped on his hips until he released down her throat. She swallowed each drop dutifully, her tongue darting to clean him completely before letting him out of her mouth. He looked down at her, eyes burning with lust and awe.

"I'm never letting you go," he promised. His hands pulled her to her feet, and he kissed her fervently. His tongue dominated her mouth and his hands gripped her to bring her pelvis to his groin. Even though she was fully clothed and he was completely naked, Avi still felt like the one more bare.

He nearly tore her clothes off in his desperation to feel more of her skin. Once she was completely undressed, he worshipped his nymph intently. His mouth and hands felt like they were everywhere - biting her neck, pinching her nipples, squeezing her bottom as if he owned it. His fingers found her slippery slit, probing at her soaked entrance. And then they were inside her... moving just a touch faster and rougher than she would do herself, that too much element fueling her high.

When she started squirming, he picked her up easily. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist, causing her wet folds to lewdly smear all over his rapidly hardening cock. He carried her to the bed, placing her right on the edge before sinking to his knees in front of her.

He started lapping at her center solemnly, a zealot at his altar. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, causing her to arch in pleasure. But as good as it felt, it wasn't what she wanted. She needed him inside her.

She sat up and dragged his mouth up to hers instead. The taste of her own musk was still in his mouth, and she knew her mouth must still taste of his seed. The thought turned her on even more; she could feel her juices starting to coat her thighs. So much for her recent bath.

Her legs spread around his body as she pulled him towards her. He lined himself up, and then he was finally, finally inside of her. Sinking in until her backside rested against his groin, his cock stretching her wide. She trembled, moaning in satisfaction at feeling so complete.

He thrust into her steadily, bottoming out each time. She clenched rhythmically around him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He leant forward to continue kissing her, even as his other hand reached between them to rub her clit in the circles she preferred. Soon, she could feel her own orgasm approaching, and he bit her nipple as he felt her about to crest. It sent her over the edge, and she let out a small cry as she came. He laughed against her breast, enjoying the feel of her channel gripping him tight.

When she calmed down enough, he left her inviting heat and went to lay down on the bed before bringing her above him to ride him. She leaned over him, kissing him as passionately as he did her, dancing their tongues together as she slid above him. Each time she rose up with her hips, she clamped her pelvic muscles to stroke his length from the inside. He dug his fingers into the soft curves of her hip with each pull.

She moved on top of him faster, close now to a second climax. She was teetering right on the edge when he said, "There's a theory I have. Something I've been meaning to try. Give me a second."

She was perplexed, perhaps even aghast. This was hardly the time for discussing theories and his sudden desire to follow the scientific method. But then she felt his fingers along her folds, and reconsidered that yes, maybe strenuous testing to prove a theory was an excellent idea.

Then two fingers entered inside her alongside his shaft. They curled, hooking behind her pubic bone, giving her a wide stretch right at her g-spot. It careened her into an explosive orgasm, her inside walls shuddering at the feeling of his fingers and cock inside her. She felt him curse and cum inside her at the same time. The aftershocks lasted for ages, her pussy still spasming in pleasure. Once she calmed down he removed his fingers and she mourned the loss.

"What was that?" She rasped hoarsely, legs still shaking from the intensity. He looked very, very pleased with himself, like a cat preening after finding an unattended saucer of milk.

"I was reading about the Elsar. Supposedly males have a knot that occurs with their mates. I thought maybe it was something your body might be expecting, and tried to recreate it. "

She gazed at him, eyes bright. "You were researching about the Elsar? About me?"

He looked annoyed. "I'm in charge of intelligence. Of course I was going to look for all the information about my new mate."

Her heart warmed at the thought of him wanting to know more about her, to please her. Was this... affection? She wasn't sure she was ready to call it love.

He smiled at the glowing look in her eyes and sat up on his elbows to bring himself face to face. Avi bit her lip instinctively, her heart beating at having him so close, even as he was still inside her. He leaned to her ear and whispered,

"I even saved the book for you to read."

She almost came again right there.

______

The rest of the night passed in a haze. The chancellor ordered some dinner to be delivered to his rooms. Avi was particularly excited by the fruit. Amongst the usual grapes and figs, she saw a bowl of ripe cherries. She had been craving them since seeing them in the market all those weeks ago, but it wasn't the typical food available to the slaves. The chancellor watched her savor each bite with amusement. He abstained from eating any and left her the entire bowl.

Avi found she enjoyed his company, and the chancellor was even funny at times? His face looked different when he was relaxed, when his mask was off. Handsome, even. She caught him smiling at her a few times when her face was turned.

He seemed reassured by touching her, so his hands were constantly caressing her ribs or her hair. Mostly, he was obsessed with his claiming mark though, seemingly entranced by the silvery glow he found there. Anytime his mouth or fingers grazed the area, she would feel an involuntary shudder course through her body. Her bond liked his proximity.

They eventually fell asleep, their limbs entwined, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder and neck as if it belonged there. As if they had fallen asleep together thousands of times before. They breathed in unison, and she wasn't sure where his breath ended and hers began. His heartbeat was so regular and so comforting under her cheek. She thought she could live the rest of her days to the tempo of that stable, steady beat.

The next morning she awoke to another light kiss at her temple, his body cradling hers. She could get used to this. Sun streamed into the room, warming their patch of the bed. She opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her. In the sunlight his eyes looked golden, aglow in the bright daylight. With his long eyelashes and high cheekbones he looked like a painting of the ancient gods. His admiration was all for her though, his gaze possessive and enraptured as he watched her. She could bask in that look and never tire of it.

He stroked her hair and laid a chaste kiss against her cheek, though the firmness against her backside was anything but. He gave her a regretful, longing smile.

"Ah, what I wouldn't give to just stay here with you, fuck that delectable cunt and whisper sweet nothings in your ear."

Avi supported that idea, rubbing her naked ass against his eager member.

"Naughty girl," he purred, his hand coming over to cup her mound. His finger slipped in between her cleft, and he quickly and efficiently brought her to an orgasm. It didn't take long - she had been almost on the brink by the feel of his length against her bottom.

"But alas, I will have to wait until this evening," and with one last tender kiss on her mouth, he got out of bed. She thought of offering to take care of him before he left, but he had already dressed by the time she fully recovered from her post orgasm glow.

He was at the door and gave her one last appraising look, eyes full of promise for when he returned.

After enjoying the comforts of the warm bed, she eventually forced herself out. Her bladder was aching, and the bed was colder without his added warmth.

She dressed, got breakfast, and started her day. She did her best to keep a small smile off of her lips, but failed a few times. The thought of another night with the chancellor, and perhaps curling on his lap with the promised book helped the day pass quickly.

The remainder of the silphium was properly dried now. Some they saved in this form. She set a small sprinkle for herself to save for her heat suppressant later - Wisant saw but didn't seem to mind. The rest they soaked in alcohol to form more of the tincture. It would keep its healing properties best that way. Wisant left after the morning to visit his family, and Avi finished up their project.

She had stayed a bit longer than expected, wanting to finish bottling the remaining silphium before heading back. As a result the sky was nearly dusk as she popped in the last cork. The days were starting to get darker earlier, the evenings starting to require a light shawl. She scurried back, hugging the coarse stones of the building walls out of habit. Annoyingly, one of her shoe laces unravelled, causing her to stumble and curse. She knelt behind some barrels near the kitchen as she fumbled to retie her laces in the long shadows.

Two guards left the kitchen together, heads close in conversation. In the shadows behind the barrels, they did not see her figure despite her bright dress.

"- throats cut. Mark of a traitor branded into their chests. Could still smell the burnt flesh despite them hanging some fifty handspans above me on the palace walls."

"Hard to be a traitor when you're Portaughn isn't it? Not really citizens are they?"

"Well, I don't think they have a brand for 'rebel'. God some of them were so young - the one with the copper hair couldn't have been twenty."

"Is it true the chancellor killed them himself?"

"That's what I heard... Do you think he branded them before or after cutting their throats?"

"Good thing we didn't have roast pork today, eh?"

Their laughter faded as they turned the corner.

Avi's hands sat frozen in her kneeling position, the laces still in their halves clutched in each hand. A young man with copper hair aged twenty. It was almost a perfect description of her brother Naim. Could it have been him?

Her traitorous mind filled in the details unwillingly - his laughing hazel eyes, his easy smile, that small gap in between his front teeth. But his expression morphed to one of horror and pain, screaming as a brand seared through his flesh and into his ribs. She could visualize the chancellor perfectly, a knife balanced evenly and stable in his hand, kneeling as he slit his throat, cool and calm as always. She could hear the gurgling as her brother would try and breathe, drowning in his own blood.

She saw Naim in her mind's eye, hanging by his slit throat from the palace walls. She could almost smell the rancid sharp tang of charred flesh emanating from his swaying body.

Bile rose into her mouth. She reassured herself it was unlikely to be any family of hers. But even if it wasn't her brother... it was surely someone else's, or their son, their father, even their beloved neighbor. Did it matter if she knew them? Didn't all life have some meaning?

Just this morning, she had come undone under the chancellor's calloused hands... Had he come back yesterday and touched her right after those same hands killed several of her countrymen? The fleeting warmth she associated with him dissipated with the chilling news.

Her heart and soul now felt icy, as frozen as her hands were at this moment. She was starting to really come to terms with what it meant to be in his position. She had long thought he must have been cold and cruel. She heard the rumors, had seen the way he interacted with others. But now she was really facing the things he had done, the people he had hurt... the people he must have killed.

He was a monster. Maybe a monster created and leashed by a cruel and bloodthirsty king, but a monster nonetheless.

And she was bound to him.