Foreign Exchange (The Concubine Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

"There!" said Arith, as Liera started to buck against her fingers.  "Obviously, this sort of thing wouldn't be understood in Ossia, any more than my own proclivities.  And while I imagine that yours would be somewhat more of an embarrassment, I cannot see any way the news would travel."

The touch grew harder, almost enough to start hurting.  "Now, I know that your lady will be here later, piglet.  And that she is perhaps soft-hearted, at least where you are concerned.  Turn around, chin up."

Arith let go, and it was . . . Liera did what she was told, quickly.  It was definitely not a wise idea to disobey.

The hand that clamped around Liera's throat was still wet from her juices.  "I am going to hurt you, later.  And you must not whine and complain when I do; I do not wish for your lady to be upset, and possibly interfere with our amusement."

"Yes, lady, thank you, lady," Liera choked out.

"What a pleasant piglet!" said Arith.  "Oh, I do hope that the Lady Maash decides to lend you out more widely.  It would be so delightful to spend a week or two with you, and catch up on all the gossip from Ossia."

Then she walked over to the door, where another guest was coming in.  Not Maash, not Taril, not Jalah.  A younger man, with a broad chest and a military sash.  He gave Liera a coolly appraising look, took a glass from one of the servants, and started a conversation with Arith.  Then Jalah came in, exchanged bows with her guests, and came over to Liera.

"And have you greeted my guests?" she asked.

"I've greeted the Lady Arith, lady," said Liera.  "I couldn't—"

"Tsk!" said Jalah, and tweaked Liera's left nipple, hard.  And unfastened her chain.  "And now go greet the Eraath.  And I do not wish to see you refusing my guests anything, or any more dawdling and delay."

Liera didn't know if she had to crawl; Jalah insisted on it, but Tsui had laughed when she'd crawled for her.  If she didn't have to, it would look . . . that she was doing this would look bad enough, but if it looked like she enjoyed the degradation, insisted on it, it would look even worse.  On the other hand, if she wasn't supposed to stand, and did. . .

Liera crawled over to the soldier, and kissed his feet.  He looked down at her, gave her an absent smile, and turned back to Arith, who smiled down at Liera, with an edge to her look that made Liera flinch.

Then Taril came in.  There wasn't yet any grey in his hair or beard, but he looked older than he had, more solid.  She crawled over as he exchanged greetings with Jalah, and kissed the top of his foot.  His first glance was as pleasantly absent as the soldier's had been, but then he recognized her; his eyes widened slightly, and there was a look that was mostly pity.

"Liera?" he said.

"Yes, lord?" she replied, trying not to look away.

He shook his head at Jalah.  "What have you done?" he asked, with a somewhat rueful note in the question.

"Very little!" said Jalah.  "Some minor education in manners and custom.  It is Maash who has done the majority of the work—Maash Enari?  She will be here later this evening."

"Maash?" asked Taril.  "Well, I suppose, the two of them were friends.  But she could have been a scholar, Jalah.  She had the abilities."

"She is what she is, Taril," said Jalah.  "I trust that you shall not find her disappointing.  She is most enthusiastic about her current role, and responsive.  See, let me show you—present your cunt, piglet."

Liera was blushing, right down to her toes, but she turned, and raised her hips.  "There, you see," said Jalah.  "Lacking them myself, I cannot say if she had the abilities to have been a scholar.  But I doubt if she had as much enthusiasm for those activities as she has for these, or she never would have left the halls of the university."

There was a hand on Liera's ass, harder and larger than Jalah's, and then a finger traced the inside of her thigh.  It was as embarrassing as anything, but Liera couldn't hold back a faint moan.

"I see what you mean," said Taril.  "And does she take equally well to the other aspects of her chosen role?"

"Here, observe," said Jalah.  Her fingers closed on Liera's nipple, turned, twisted.

Liera yelped, aware of Taril's hand on her pussy, knowing that he could feel her response.

"I see," said Taril.  "I suppose you're right."  He let go, patted her butt.  "It will nonetheless be peculiar to have the use of a girl who might have been a colleague, but I suppose that we all make our choices."

"We do," said Jalah.

Then Maash came in, and Liera bounded over.  Maash was wearing her land-owner's cap, and riding boots, tight trousers and a loose brocade coat.  She looked absolutely lovely.  Liera kissed her boots, put Maash's right foot on top of her head, which she pressed down against the tile.

"Well," said Maash, chuckling.  "You seem happy to see me."

Liera nodded, her head still under Maash's foot.

"Good," said Maash.  She took her foot away, lifted up Liera's face, studied it, smiled again.  And then she saw Jalah's cuff.

"Jalah," she said, "you are impossible."

Jalah had come over while Liera had made her owner welcome.  She raised an eyebrow at that.

"It is far too much of a gift for a day and a half of use," said Maash.  "And how shall it look when she's wearing that, and I have—"

"You are welcome, of course," said Jalah, and Maash grinned at her.  "And if you wish to commission a bracelet to match, that can be arranged.  Of course, it would be a very expensive piece of jewelry, if it were to be a proper match, but I am sure that your reserves can—"

Maash laughed.  "You have a positive genius for sales, Jalah.  I'll think about it."

The two of them were headed to the tables; Liera had been following them, when two men walked in, and she went to welcome them.  It was the Krin, who gave Liera an absent pat on the head, and the Yail, who Liera recognized as Arith's husband.  He was tall and slim and was wearing an absolutely magnificent green and blue robe, with dragons and starbursts embroidered on it.  There was a lazy amusement in his eye when he looked at Liera, a hidden intelligence that made him almost as alarming as his wife.

"There are benefits to our foreign trade connections," he said to the Krin.  He looked down at Liera.  "Cunt."

She turned, lifted her hips.  He laughed.  "That was a description, rather than an instruction.  But very nice, I'm sure."  He turned back to the Krin, who walked with him over to the tables.

Liera turned to face the guests.  They were arranged on small tables; Maash next to Jalah and the Krin at one, Taril and the Eraath at another, the Yail and Arith at a third.  There was a space in the middle, where she had been chained to the ring; the floor there was open.  On the sides there were tables with foods, and silver pitchers.  She didn't know what to do, and looked up gratefully as Tsui came over, and clipped a golden chain to the clasp of her collar.

"Come, piglet," she said.  "Let us introduce you to the guests."

Liera had thought that the introductions had been made, but she followed docilely as Tsui led her over to the table with the Yail and Arith.

Liera wasn't at all sure what she was supposed to do.  Tsui sighed.  "You really should be taught what to do," she said.  "During the first course, you are to provide oral service, as an introduction.  Start with the Yail."

The Yail smiled down at her, lazy, intelligent, cruel.  She undid the front of his trousers; he was half aroused, no more.  Liera looked up at him, and he slapped her stingingly across the face.  "Go on," said Tsui, by her side.  Liera took him in her mouth, began softly caressing his thighs, his balls.  Slowly, he grew and hardened in her mouth.

"Whip her cunt," said the Lady Arith.  "I am sure that she will whine and complain if you over-exert yourself, so by all means, continue until you hear complaints of that sort."

Which were the complaints that the Lady Arith had forbidden her to make.  Liera did not take her lips and hands off of the Yail, but she looked over to the Lady Arith, who was giving her full attention to breaded partridge and red berries.

"And the retractors, if you don't mind," said the Yail.  "If you encourage her to my specifications, I imagine that they'll be needed."

"Of course, sir," said Tsui.  "Back on your heels, mouth open, piglet."

She hadn't bitten into the green lemon!  This was unfair and unnecessary, and there was a sly amusement in the Yail's eyes, and a sidelong look from the Lady Arith, and Liera wanted to go over to Maash and curl up around her feet, and let her protect her from people like that.  And she wanted to do whatever the Lady Arith and the Yail told her, as best as she possibly could.

The retractors were metal and fabric and springs, and they kept her mouth open.  She leaned forward again, took the Yail in her mouth again.  Tsui was behind her.  She nudged Liera's legs apart with one bare foot, then adjusted the angle of her hips and back with her hands.

"Keep your toes off the floor, Liera," said the Lady Arith.  "If you wish for the beating to be milder, or to stop, simply drop them down.  You understand, right?  Toes up, now.  Yes!  Just like that, good girl!  And if you want the beating to be milder, what do you do?  Right, on the floor, just like that!"

She looked over at Tsui, brightly.  "She has such a good grasp of the language, too!  What a clever little piglet.  Now, toes up, and you may begin."

The first few swats hurt, but they weren't that bad.  But it didn't take long before Tsui picked up the pace, and started hitting harder.  Every so often, she'd check Liera's feet, but Liera kept her toes off the floor.  Which made her knees hurt even more, putting all the pressure on them, rather than on her feet.  It was terrible, and at least the Yail wasn't insisting on eye contact, because she was crying too hard to see anything.  But she kept quiet, because she'd been told to, and also because the Lady Arith was probably next.

At last, the Yail started thrusting.  Tsui's breath was getting a little ragged, too, but Liera trusted her; if she let her toes touch the floor, she wouldn't be hitting as hard, or she'd be using something a little less stringent than the short whip she was using. . . if Liera wanted, she could probably stop it all—Maash was there, and she'd listen to her.

But she kept off her toes, and sucked as best as she could.  The retractors made it hard to get her lips on the Yail's cock, and her knees hurt, and it was hard not to jerk violently every time the whip landed on her pussy—across her lips, on her clit, wherever Tsui wanted it to fall.  Finally, finally, his hands tightened on her hair, and he spasmed—once, twice, three times, pushed her away.

Only with the retractors in, she couldn't close her mouth and swallow.  Semen didn't . . . it wasn't like ladies, who tasted good.  It was harsh, and acrid, and she couldn't.   "Ankoo lor or or ahtehnon," Liera gasped out, spitting out semen and drool with every syllable.

"Stand her up," said the Lady Arith, and as Tsui helped Liera back to her feet, a streamer of mixed come and saliva dripped down from her mouth, onto her breasts and stomach.

"What a lovely picture you make, Liera!" she said.  "A model of Ossian womanhood and elegance, and a credit to our people."

She turned to Tsui.  "I will perhaps use her later.  For now, make her dance."

Tsui hesitated.  "Yes, Lady," she said.  "But she is not trained in the—"

"You are a flute girl," said Arith.  "Surely you can make a girl dance for us?"

"Yes, Lady," said Tsui.  "May I remove—"

"No," said the Lady Arith.  "She will dance as she is."

Liera had danced a bit when she had been in university, and once she'd met Maash, Maash didn't go to clubs much.  The sort of dances they wanted probably weren't club dances, either, and there was still that mess of come and saliva on her, in her mouth.

She coughed, and couldn't stop coughing, getting more of the come onto her chin, dribbling down between her breasts.

"Now please," said Arith, and Tsui started playing, a slow, sultry tune.

Liera started to sway, not sure what to do, trying to find something, some pattern she could fit into, some way of avoiding the Lady Arith's cruel laughter, Jalah's affectionate exasperation, the hard, flat looks in the mens' eyes.  She closed her eyes, rolled her shoulders, posed—which provoked more laughter from Arith—shifted, twisted.

"This is the wrong music, I fear," she said.  "The whip, flute girl."

"Yes, lady," said Tsui.

There was a moment when the music stopped—Liera stood uncertainly, not knowing if she ought to keep dancing—and then a whip caught her around her right leg, the one without the cuff.  She yelped, spun, and Arith laughed, started clapping.

The clapping became rhythmic, and the others picked it up—Jalah, then the Eraath and Taril, then the Yail and Maash.  And Liera danced, jerking away from the whip where it hit her, on her legs, on her arms, around her stomach and breasts and back; whichever way she turned, Tsui caught her, turned her again, the whip flicking in time with the clapping.

It didn't last long—a few minutes, maybe—but it seemed like it lasted forever, and when the clapping changed to less regular applause, Liera was panting, striped by the whip.  "You may return to your knees," said Tsui, behind her.  "And go to the Eraath."