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Black Pearl 06
The Black Pearl of Pharazionby Cobalt Jade (cobaltjade@aol.com)Chapter 6: SyonhoddazSyonhoddaz was vast, but it was hardly impersonal.A sensual odor immediately rolled out to greet us, equal parts musk and spice: the scent of clean, richly oiled human bodies in sexual excitement. The polished marble walls of the palace were lined with niches in which human statues had been placed, and women in alteration, all of them naked and gilded with silver or gold. Women stood their legs apart, feet chained to the floor with their arms bound behind them, while the stood with legs fastened together, arms chained to the niche above their heads. None looked up. They looked like sculptures, but were alive, breathing. "Are they always bound so?" I whispered to J'Wabra."No. After all, the functions of the body must be attended to. They serve shifts of six hours each, after which they go back to their grooms or the slave halls. Some think of it as a penance, others a pleasure."I stole another look. Not only were the slave-statues gilded, they had been ornamented as well with flowers and jewels...and various weights that had been clipped to their nipples and genitals. "How do they stand it? How come they do not go mad?""They are well-trained," he said with a smile.I still did not see the sense of the display. "Why use slaves as decorations, when they might be bedded?""Who says they are not worked? We servants take many liberties as we make our rounds." I was shocked. It was horrifying, and tantalizing, to imagine these captives stroked and teased in their utter immobility."You don't!""I don't. However, there are some who do. They must be very careful, however. If they are caught, they must serve themselves a night and a day in the slave's place. As servants are generally not so attractive or...*well-endowed*...as the slaves, such impersonations cause great hilarity, and much mockery of the one so caught." I looked again at the captives, seeing what he meant by well-endowed. Every male slave was primed to a one, the erect cocks gleaming under their gilding. A eunuch could hardly compare."Why don't they fight it?" I asked. "They are constrained, yet so still. Almost as if they sleep.""They are lost in erotic dreams no doubt. Besides, there are worse treatments than that for incorrigible slaves. Look to the ceiling."I did. High above us, hanging from the carved and painted beams, were a line of human chandeliers that stretched far ahead of us, and far behind. They had been hung with their wrists and ankles fastened equidistantly to a metal hoop so they dangled helplessly beneath it. A dish of burning oil was suspended over the naked back or belly of each slave."The slightest move," J'Wabra said, "and the burning oil spills. Understand?"I understood, and stopped my gawking. We soon entered a long hall lined with glossy pillars, a banquet table and chairs set between them, Shezrine's court came to join us. My nippleguards and furry thong paled beside their costumes. Like Shezrine, they were no strangers to provocative dress. "They are her hostages," J'Wabra whispered as I seated myself. He would not be eating with me, for as a slave groom his job was to make sure his charges did their work. "Shezrine claims the of noble families to act against insurrection attempts by the elders. As long as they serve her at court, the will do nothing against her."Clever, I thought. I studied my table setting, which had enough eating utensils to serve each inhabitant of my longhome back in Moambe. The bone-china plate had an erotic scene on painted on it, which was soon covered by sauce when nude slaves commenced to dish out the delicacies. From the ceiling beams on either side of us hung more slaves who dangled like luscious fruits, their manicured genitals well displayed for our perusal. My eyes kept returning to these poor creatures as I ate. They were tethered on a single chain by their wrists and ankles and from time to time they squirmed a little, giving low moans in an enervated, supplicating way. But there would be no work for them until the guests had finished their sup, and until then they would twist and foment helplessly. The courtiers, meanwhile, conversed casually in complete disregard of the flesh that was so artfully displayed for them. Could I ever move myself to punish or degrade such helpless, creamy flesh? It was an interesting proposition, but I knew I would never let myself find out. "Would you like white wine or red, mistress?" A stunningly beautiful slave stood at my side with her eyes downcast, but I could see no bottle. Her skin was pale creamy gold, her lucent pears seemingly ripe enough to burst. Like all the other slaves here, no free will or intelligence seemed to live inside that lovely face."White," I said, and held out my glass.With one hand she squeezed her right gently but firmly. A jet of pale liquid arced from the pert little nipple. It landed in my glass with a pleasant tinkle, and I was too surprised to do anything but stare."Marvelous, isn't it," Shezrine commented, and laughed. It was not a nice laugh. "The things that can be done through magic."I had to sip the wine then to avoid comment. It was real wine, full and rich, with a tarty sweetness; the right temperature too. But I made a mental note to avoid asking a male slave for a refill."Do you keep slaves in your land?" Shezrine asked, spearing a bit of fish on her fork.I felt like stating that in civilized lands, people respect human dignity and do not force others to serve against their will, but I held my tongue. "No. We do not follow that custom." "A pity," Shezrine said. "We have an excess of slaves in Obn Dhregni. We shall have to start exporting them soon."I wondered if she was baiting me. "Your halls would be very empty then, your Highness."Shezrine laughed again in what she thought was an artful way, an unpleasant, tinkling noise. "True. I shall have to import some artworks to take their place."The other foreigners entered the conversation. "How do you force them to serve, your Highness?" one of them asked, a diplomat-warrior from Altaragona. He had come as an envoy from the Eagle clan, a warlike though prudish people, and had been struggling to contain his normal male reactions ever since we had entered the palace. Shezrine set down her wine. True amusement glinted in her eyes. She hooked a finger through the gold collar of the wine as she passed and bent her over, displaying her shapely rump to us. On the girl's right buttock was branded the Queen's sigil, the Caramaithzes basilisk. It stood out in slight indentation to the skin and was about three inches long. "Observe this mark. I brand my lovelies myself when they come to the palace, so that all should know them as mine, and it imparts a powerful compulsion upon them to serve. They literally know of no other life, as they forget the one they had before. Who were you before you came to the palace, my dear?"The wine looked confused. She kept her eyes lowered, nearly trembling at being in such close contact with the Queen. "I...I don't know, your Highness.""She was the eldest of a Ponapa chieftain from the Panjarl jungles," Shezrine explained, keeping her finger hooked through the girl's collar. "A princess, but a clan dispute made her an outcast, and she encountered slavers thereafter...and she eventually made her way across the Great Rift to me. A little too dark for my tastes, so I changed her, and gave her a specific duty as well." She squeezed the girl's left as if it was a wineskin, catching the dark ruby jet in her glass. "What grape can give both white and vintage from the same vine?"The Queen continued to chat as if such things were commonplace, but I had a hard time finishing the rest of my food. Luckily, she seemed to forgot about me, but over the honeycakes and nut tarts a message came to me from Gartian Dragoncord, a general of the Queen's army. He wished to speak to me tomorrow about my mercenary experience. A second invitation to the palace, which could be most useful. I folded it into fifths and stashed it in my pouch. Servants began to clear the table, signaling the end of the banquet. The lords and ladies of the court began to grow restless. They aimed longing looks at the dangling slaves, but I gathered that protocol dictated such indulgences be embarked upon only with the Queen's permission. That she seemed uninclined to give, as she was still discussing trade possibilities with the foreign merchants. Finally she stood."Entertainment has been arranged for you in the palace amphitheater," she said. "Follow my and they will see you seated."With a sigh of relief I rose and followed the guards down the slave-bedecked halls. I noted it was evening already, the sky a shade of cobalt jade. The Queen's bid us to enter a round chamber hung with velvet drapes where five tiers of cushioned seats faced a pillared stage below. It was the sort of setting where one might hear poetry read. I took my seat. J'Wabra sat beside me, permitted by custom to take in the show. The other nobles and foreigners chatted and laughed in anticipation.When all of us were in, the doors closed. I noted a pair of guards stood at each.The chandeliers were extinguished, and now the only light came from the tall braziers on the stage and torches that flickered in sconces along the walls. The Queen walked out in front of the velvet-draped pillars, the heels of her boots clicking loudly in the sudden silence. Her body jewelry swayed, catching the light and breaking it into sequins. The crystals she wore refracted bright highlights too...in fact, they practically seemed to glow. I immediately wondered why she chose to address us. I had been expecting to see some wild dancing or a musical performance. "I have prepared a special demonstration for you tonight," the Queen said. "At dinner some foreigners asked what it is that compels a slave to serve. I do not mean the common utility sort you find on the streets of our city or toiling on the lord's estates, but the particular type of pleasure-slave I keep about the palace whose function is to bring such pleasure and delight to us. To assuage that curiosity, I will create such a slave for you tonight...from the ranks of my own court."The crowd of nobles went suddenly silent. Everyone had heard of these little games of the White Queen; not even her favorites were immune from them.Shezrine pointed out into the seats. Her guards quickly dragged a woman to the front. The screeched in protest, knowing full well what was about to happen, but her struggles did not lessen the inevitability of it one bit. No one dared speak for her as she was half-pushed, half-carried, to the center of the tiled floor. "No!" J'Wabra hissed, a tight exclamation of fear. "She is one of us, rebel! How did Shezrine know?"Danger buzzed around us. I glanced toward the exits, but guards had been stationed at the doors, their pikes crossed. No one was to be allowed in or out. Had Shezrine planned this all along? Were J'Wabra and I about to be revealed as spies? I breathed deeply to calm myself. The guards held the firmly, pulling her arms behind her back so her head was forced up. The Queen caressed the girl's face, cupping her soft chin in her fingers. "What is your name, my dear?""Marnessa rezbet Amicon," the whispered. She dared not say anything louder."A pretty name, very pretty. But yours no longer. Do you understand this?"The only clenched her jaw. "She was commanded to court as a hostage against her parents," J'Wabra whispered. "The Queen suspects they are rebels, but Marnessa knows too little to implicate us. It's her the Queen wants to hurt. This is bad, my Lady, very bad. If only I could have protected her somehow!"I felt my stomach twist. There was no hope of saving her. Now Shezrine intended to teach Marnessa's parents, and by extension the rebels, a lesson.Shezrine nodded to the guards. "Begin."The quickly tied the girl's wrists and ankles to the columns so she was spread-eagled between them. Marnessa gave more futile yelps as they used their knives to cut off her clothes, which fell in a pool of bright silk between her legs. Her body was of average height, the limbs long, with small, upturned which heaved rhythmically with her frightened pants. Once nude, she tried to hide her face against her arm, but this the Queen did not permit. "Look at your Queen, my dear," Shezrine chided, tapping her chin with a leather-covered rod. Marnessa brought her head up. Her face was lightly streaked with tears, but the look in her eyes was defiant. Her hands flexed repeatedly under the silky ropes, but she could not get free.Shezrine kept the rod positioned under her chin, forcing her head to remain up, and walked around to her rear. She suddenly gripped the girl's hair, jerking her head back. "Look at your peers, Marnessa," she hissed. "All the lords and ladies you sported with yesterday. How does it feel to be so bound and exposed before them? You have not yet participated in the games we favor at Court. I shall now remedy that and give you a most *exquisite* introduction.""Observe!" Shezrine's voice rang out, traveling even to the last tier of seats. "A new piece of flesh has come to Syonhoddaz for your amusement. Study this face, these breasts, these buttocks." She roughly stroked each area with the rod as she spoke. "All of which will be brought to their fullest potential as a palace pleasure slave. Potential not even their owner may know. Isn't that right, my dear?" She wriggled the rod deeply between Marnessa's legs. Marnessa had enough of obedience. She tried to jerk her body away and close her thighs, which made her hips jog back and forth in an obscene wriggle. The watching nobles laughed. "Look at how she fights!" Shezrine said. "But she will not fight for long. By the time I am through with her, she will beg to be my slave...of her own free will."Marnessa froze. Shezrine wound her hand even more tightly in her hair, forcing her to stare back at the jeering nobles as if she was, indeed, a slave already on the auctioning block. "Fear can taste delicious, can it not?" Shezrine whispered, so low only we in the first row could catch it. "For the victim as well as the perpetrator. It is one of the strongest sensations there is, along with pain and the spasms of lust."Through the darkened arches two slaves carried in a strange-looking table with high, sturdy legs. It was made of wood and had obscene designs carved on it, with a leather pad on top and many leather straps. "Place her there," Shezrine said.Marnessa fought in renewed panic as the guards untied her and placed her on the table, strapping her at the waist, ankles, knees, and thighs. Her arms were likewise strapped tight to her sides so she could not move them, and two more straps crossed her chest above and below her breasts. Her head thrashed from to side as she realized the total immobility and helplessness of her position. The table was tilted with a crank so her head was higher than her feet, giving all in the audience a splendid view of her struggles. Her face flushed crimson, but there was little she could do. Shezrine ran her curved silver fingernails lightly down her captive's body. Marnessa shivered, sensing some new humiliation. But Shezrine only shook her head. "No, I do not participate at this stage in the game. That is for my lesser lovelies to take care of, as the finest lessons in slavehood are taught by slaves themselves." She gestured with a click of her nails, and seven naked slave ran swiftly out of the arches.They were not the elite of Shezrine's private whores--she had far too many to have favorites--but from their demeanor they were accomplished pleasure slaves and had been chosen carefully by someone, if not Shezrine, to perform this task now. All were unearthly beautiful. Some were dark, some light, ripe and glossy as lush berries at their height of flavor. Yet for all their differences in coloring there was a sameness to them, a symmetry of feature and blandness of expression. Their features too were universal and had the same stamp of a vase mass-produced from a mold: buttocks round and firm, large and upturned. Their nipples were tight, pointed buds carved from cinnabar and sard, each pierced with a gold ring and the two connected by a chain. Wide golden cuffs encircled their wrists and ankles, upper arms and thighs, and slim, shapely necks; all were hung with jingling ornaments. They knelt on the tile like well-trained animals, obeising themselves before the Queen. On every perfect buttock was her brand, showing they belonged to the palace and by extension to the Caramaithzes line. They bowed, then gazed up at the Queen with total obedience. Marnessa had heard them coming by their bells and started writhing in a new panic. "There she is," Shezrine commanded. "Do her."Two slaves began to massage her breasts, squeezing them with warm, skilled fingers; they tweaked the rosy nipples, them slowly with their mouths. Marnessa moaned softly in pleasure as more slaves began to stroke the flesh of her belly and thighs, then reached underneath her to caress her buttocks and anus; they worked neither reluctantly nor lovingly, they simply worked, without showing any of the pleasure they may have received from it themselves. The bottom half of the table apart and moved back, forcing Marnessa's knees up and her thighs apart, and the last slave, who had a full head of shiny poppy-red curls, crouched between her legs to tongue to the exposed organs before her. Her pretty head bobbed languidly as she sucked, her well-oiled buttocks undulating with the motions. It was a stimulating show, designed to arouse whoever saw it, and that was why it so popular in the public concupisceriums of this city. Marnessa began to whimper, her body squirming under the tight leather straps that held her, and I flushed with shame at the thought I was as unwillingly aroused as she was. Her head bumped frantically on the thin leather pad as she tried to resist the rising tide of sexual pleasure. Not a word was heard from the audience, which made her cries all the louder. Her hips rose and fell on the leather cushion. The pink soles of her feet flexed with shameful pleasure as the slave between her legs tongued and suckled. The slave's dark purple brand fairly danced with her motions, wriggling like a thing alive. My own breathing was quite short before Marnessa reached her climax. She cried out and her body spasmed, toes pointed. Then she went limp, breathing deeply and hoarsely as her head rolled to the side. The Queen came over for her inspection. The slave stepped back as she looked intently between Marnessa's legs, then suddenly pushed the leather rod deep inside her. She pulled it out, examining the moisture. "*Very* good." She laughed wickedly, running her hand through the curls of the slave who knelt at her feet, the one most responsible for the girl's orgasm. The slave wriggled and kissed her boots. "You've done well, little pet. Tonight I shall see you in my chambers. Rise now, and let one of your sisters take your place."Marnessa sobbed out loud in frustration. Once had not been enough. She would be stroked and suckled to orgasm again as her peers witnessed her inevitable responses. "There, there," Shezrine said with mock pity. "It is not so bad as that, is it? Can you truly let those tears spill down your face and say it was without pleasure? Don't you want to have more? My slaves have many toys designed to heighten the sensations. Here, they will show you some." The slaves opened one of the chests and took out straps of leather and small paddles; flesh clamps; a whip. Marnessa gasped. "No!"Her protests had even less of an effect this time as she was swiftly gagged. Again, the slaves took up their positions. This time, slaps and thrashes came between the kisses. The stinging slaps left no welts but they must have smarted, for Marnessa began to struggle in a lively way, pleading behind her gag. But nothing stopped the rain of short, stinging blows. Side to side she tried to turn, but there was no escape. Much sooner than before, it seemed, she spasmed, arms and legs quivering like strongly plucked bowstrings. I could not look away. I was disgusted, yet fascinated at the sight of her surrender. Whether it came from pain or pleasure did not matter. Both were the two strongest sensations the human body could experience, the only ones to overwhelm the mind so fully. Marnessa began to weep, even more abashed as she realized she had been brought to orgasm by the thrashing. It was not a realization that lays easy on the human soul. "You've yielded well," Shezrine said, sending her slaves to the sidelines with a gesture. "But you will yield still further."And then the Queen alone went to work on the with her tongue and fingers. She needed no help from the other slaves now. She twisted and stretched Marnessa's nipples between her fingers, then lapped like a hungry lioness at her belly and navel. The girl's moans nearly became screams at the ministrations, and her hips galloped. But the Queen did not let her reach orgasm again. By her own skill, she turned a tumble towards ecstasy into the most-drawn out of tortures.I felt my own parts grow wet as the Queen applied her mouth to Marnessa's sex. Her long silver hair veiled the sight of it, though the movements of her head--and the girl's twitching thighs--betrayed her ministrations. Marnessa writhed like a mongoose as she undulated against the tight straps, her face a reddened grimace. Her toes clenched tightly as the soles of her feet arched upward. Her head snapped from side to side. "Ah...ah...."Then came the moment of shattering. Her entire body strained upward, froze, then sank down in weariness. She sobbed against the lewdly carved table, surrounded by leering carved faces and erect genitals, looking like a crumbled flower after a storm. "It brings a sort of peace, doesn't it?" Shezrine whispered seductively, stroking the girl's damp hair. "You will eventually take a deep happiness in it, this utter loss of self, hard as its teaching will be. I envy you. It is something I can never enjoy, alas, for I am the Queen and must remain in command. But there is pleasure in teaching it to others...and an equal amount of pleasure in seeing they stay trained." The Queen moved aside. Everyone in the audience could now see the slick, protruding lips of Marnessa's sex...and everyone knew how they had gotten that way."This belongs to me now," the Queen said, giving the swollen organs a switch of her rod, "to punish or pleasure, whatever I wish...for as my slave, you will be nothing but what lies between your legs. You will absorb this and live this every day of your new life. You will live only to please me and please me to live...all mine, forever."