7 comments/ 73907 views/ 19 favorites Xanthopella: The Gift By: peterpan Copyright of Peter Dee, 2001 Out of the frying pan and into the third place, a spirited girl becomes a gift of remote affection to an alien's wife. This turns out to be extremely fun. *** To be presented at the slaver's auction, naked like an un-apprenticed virgin! The shame! No girl at eighteen, I was the best sneak-thief in the city, on the planet, and I had the certificate to prove it. Lord Rracc's handkerchief, Embroidered with his initials, hung on my wall. I made no secret of it. The Great Lord Rracc. That name may conjure an illusion of a tall glowering man whom could flay a maiden with his eyes and make her enjoy it. Not so! Flaccid and fat Lord Rracc. He won't get his hands on me in this tale. Not if I have any say in it! The humiliation of being sold cut me far deeper than the Auctioneers crop as he prodded me forward. Perhaps his shame was as great. I spoiled his diorama of doe-eyed consumptive waifs. A most unfashionable slave girl with my close-cropped hair and sun-spoilt skin. If he had not owed my father a favor, he would never have agreed to sell me. Each slave was symbolically bound by a collar whose leash looped over the same bar in the ceiling. Just too little slack to allow one to collapse to her knees. So we had to stand, and clutch each others baby-oiled hides in twos and threes to stop the most waif-like from fainting and slowly asphyxiating. The sight of us would add a small but scientifically quantifiable edge to the bidding. Who says chivalry is dead? All bidding houses employed some such gimmick. I was lead to the front of the stage, one of the Hands whipping the leash so it would slide along the overhead bar after me. I stepped upon the block. Yanking the leash, the Hand pulled me taut. And more so, up onto my toes to emphasize my lithe athletic legs, before he secured his end to a floor ring. Still it choked me. I had missed my queue to wrap the leash round my wrists so I had to grip desperately to the leash with both hands above my head in order to breath. The bidding began. Sadistic hands traced the straining arches of my feet, pinched the muscles of my calves and above the knees to test tone and responsitivity. There was Lord Rracc in the crowd. Who had invited him? If it was my father, that sodden... If it was my father who had invited Lord Rracc, and I had enough faith in our unique father-daughter bond that it was, twice fool him! For Rracc was not bidding. To bid for me would be to publicly confirm what everyone knew. Rather, Rracc was here to show total indifference, and remind everyone what an unwise investment I could nevertheless be. Rracc was here to see me sold for a handful of maize to a mule trader. Valued thus, consensually and publicly, as nothing. Nobody. Revenge is best served indifferently. Bidding was poor. Father would not make half the money he needed to pay his debts. Not one whit would he have thought of me in his misery, his only daughter (not a son, some were only now being convinced), presented to the crowd for their mockery, dangling on the end of a leash, naked , gasping and glistening like a fish on a hook. Untouched! Look at me! I wanted to scream. I have done things you only dream of. I have done things! I have engaged in high treason and acts of lurid depravity. All by my self! Always by my self. Now I want recognition! "Look at those perfect shoulders, that taut abdomen! Those child-baring hips" The Auctioneer twisted me round, "That tight peach butt!" Look at me! I am a personality! A hot tear. "..Those thighs.. No previous owner. A must sell! No reserve price! Offer ANYTHING!" There was silence. I heard the nobles tittering. The bid stood at slightly over a quarter what was required bail out father. But why should HE worry. Once I escaped and returned to him, why I could let him sell me again. And again. And I would do it. My mother made me swear to look after him. The scheme would have worked, (and I admit it took him to think of it) but he wanted ten times as much, by selling me to Lord Rracc. Oh how I hated him. "Going once," Ouch! "Going twice," Ow! The auctioneer raised his crop for the closing strike. My butt tried to scrunch up into my arsehole, reflexively. A beautiful voice delayed the stroke. "Your pardon...We are strangers here...". Alien. Mellow yet crisp. The words were not shouted, but the speaker had never doubted that they were sufficient to halt the proceedings. The voice had no clear origin. The auctioneer paused, looking in all directions. To me, it was as if my taut belly had rung like a bell. I felt the voice resonate there. My eyes noticed a disturbance in the crowd. There was the alien and his wife. A space had formed around them. If I muff their description you will think them horrific, six foot scorpions. Or perhaps some sort of six-legged lizard. All I noticed were the eyes. Brilliantly hued, set in a herbivorous face, balanced swanlike on a slender neck that descended to shoulders and chest that could have belonged to a pubescent boy and girl, but for the smooth plating. Their draped and decorated bodies flowed back and finally narrowed to a tail that arched up to a bulbous stinger, perhaps, that darted around inquisitively very much as if it were a second head. Their bodies were slung inches off the ground, spider-like, between four long crouched legs. All their feet were also hands. With frightening agility and ease they had scuttled up beside us and began inspecting me, really looking me up and down, eyes carried by graceful necks from toe to tip as they cooed appreciatively. Eyes that seemed to physically touch me with their gaze. "Are we to understand that this exquisite genuine-human virgin-female is for sale?" The auctioneer looked at me dubiously. "Yes?" he ventured, "Future generations would not expect her back?" "Definitely not." On this he was quite certain. "Never been used?" "Ewh!" The auctioneer had merely shuddered at the concept. You are MEANT to be SELLING me, fool! "Can we have her wrapped?" *** The female had left us on other business, leaving my leash in the hands of the other, whom had in fact managed every element of the purchase. I did not consider this unusual at the time. The male, who had professed total ignorance of human care and grooming, nevertheless had noticed my thirst and now was treating it at a nearby tavern. Although I dreaded the answer, I asked what use the alien intended to put me to. "You are to be the conduit by which I express my remote love to my wife." I frowned. So I was to be an expression of remote affection. That sounded insulting. "So you are a male Xeno? You Xeno's all look the same anyway," I spat. The Xeno looked sad. "We have not progressed so far in our relationship to be sure... But yes, I will be the male when we, it.. that is to say when we terminally consummate. But that could be delayed decades. Centuries. You are to aid in that delay, by providing sport and titillation." That was a lot to swallow. I was more confused and nervous than before. It must have showed. "I see you do not understand. Why should you. We do not advertise our nature. We find it shameful. In the act of consummation, where smaller mate who has been totally conquered, that is reduced to a state of complete submission and pliancy by the sexual administrations of the stronger, the female, and also thrust deep upon her ovipositor, then biology takes over and he is absorbed into her abdomen where the mate is consumed by the larvae laid within him. This is traumatic, especially for the female, for once the biological process begins, the justifying urges fade and she is quite sane for the few hours it takes for her mate to be consumed. Consummated. Much poetry on the subject exists... but is never shown." I was already out the window and running. Well, actually only half out. The alien was faster than I expected and had grabbed the chain joining my wrists. I was half out the window and my legs were pumping in mid-air. "Be unafraid, my exotic. Your biology is incompatible. Consummation will never take you, however repeatedly or deeply her lust is sated upon you." "Oh. Good." I kept my face expressionless. I resolved to be elsewhere and soon. *** Soon elsewhere I was. I opened my eyes to find myself deep in the alien's palatial quarters, on the softest bed, looking up at a suspended mirror to see a beautiful girl dressed like a young bride to be. Some damned alien hypnotic trick had switched scenes on me easy as an authors pen. I was starved, dazed and embarrassingly dressed in the latest fashions of white lace and silk, that I could not possibly afford, that no one in their right mind would have been egotistical or deluded enough to think they could carry off and not look ridiculous. All this evidence suggested I had been shopping. Yes. I slowly remembered now. Laughing and giggling as I towed my sugar-daddy from boutique to boutique, feeling the fabric, trying on everything and discarding with a flourish till I had this, the most perfect perfect costume for the most wonderful, wonderful occasion. I hit my forehead on my palm several times hoping the brain damage would remove the cringe inducing memory of it. Dressing me had not been all of it. I also remembered some sort of full body facial with restorative clays and cucumber slices all over, a steaming hot bath and being dried by the softest towels before I slept. I sat up suddenly on the bed, so excruciatingly refreshed and alive that I could lie still not a second longer. I had to escape and find my father, damn him. I had abandoned him too long already. The room had only one way out. I would have to play along for now. I did not think the spell had worn off accidentally. I guessed they wanted ME for the next scene, not the vacuous shopping zombie. If I could keep my wits about me I had a chance. Dressed like a princess but walking like a thief, I stole into the waiting elevator. *** The elevator door opened onto a hanging garden of delights. Delicious scents enticed me through the door before caution returned. The aliens were not in sight. In the center of the room was what I took to be a wide round table, surrounded by hanging pots and open dishes, of gleaming bronze, from whence the aroma surely came. But there were no chairs, and the table was slightly domed. Mushroom-like, in fact. I bent down and found it to be soft and silky, surely for sitting on. If I was wrong however, it might set a bad precedent to sit on it. "Climb up upon the table, and inspect each dish." I looked around but could not spot where the voice had come from. I obeyed, balancing on my knees at the table center, spinning the hanging mobiles of food that surrounded me to smell each mouthwatering dish. They not only knew humans. They seemed to know me. There were steaming meats, the softest white bread and pluckable fruits and small wine bottles in ice and ice-cream and crayfish and much more. I have never explored my food before. My stomach grumbled. I knew I had not been given permission, but if I moved quickly enough, technically, they had not forbade anything.. My greed and spirit of rebellion, always my finest qualities, won me over and I grabbed for a tart small enough to swallow in a single gulp. Instead I found my arm suspended above my head, a soft ribbon entrapping my wrist, loosely closed by an alien thumb and fore finger. The wife, not the husband, had taken the initiative. Both of them were there coiled above me. Not coiled to pounce but coiled in each other's arms and bodies like playful children, feeding the illusion that it was I looking down at them. Her face hung down by my ear. "Your childlike snatch.. delighted us." Another hand brought a small tart to my lips, identical to the one I had failed to grab. "My name is Xanthopella." "Y' knew.." I accused, mouth full. It was even more delicious than it looked. "Your desires sparkle like diamonds in your mind. Now we will blindfold you." My wrist was released and the ribbon wrapped over my eyes. They sat me down comfortably between them, one in front and one behind. One held a refreshing drink to my lips to wash down the tart, while another pair of hands loosened my coat. It might have been the same alien. They had so many hands. The cloak slid down to my elbows as I chewed on succulent chicken flesh, my lips dabbed with bread. Each mouthful was another dish, always surprising me, never quite fast enough or large enough so my mouth would hang open, expectant for the next treat. The heat from the bowls radiated intensely, perspiration beaded on my brow despite cool goblets to sip from appearing at my lips just as my thirst occurred to me. I was thankful when my puffed silk blouse was unbuttoned and pushed down to aid my coat in entangling my arms. Something as ticklish as feathers was dragged over my brow, down past my ear and jaw. It descended my neck, traced one collar bone before dipping into my cleavage. It traced the lip of my bra before ascending to my lips, where I could catch it and devour it. It had a freshening taste, after an initial salty burst that might have been my own sweat, but perfectly judged in any case. That I think punctuated the end of the first course and the beginning of the second. Although I was almost out of breath from chewing and anticipation of the next bite, my appetite was stronger now and the aromas more tantalizing than when I had begun, my nervousness gone. My lips never knew whether or not to expect one more treat. They sated me but still my mouth hung open hoping for new sensations after the meal had finished. *** My arms were finally released from the tangle of shirt and coat. I felt soft leather thongs tighten about my wrists. Before I could investigate I felt the mushroom table sinking beneath me, deeper than the floor, and an animal instinct for balance glued me on all fours. "Hey!" I cried out. Fighting my instincts I spared a hand to rip off the blindfold. We were descending through a hole in the floor to a new room. I saw them momentarily distracted with each other, kissing, then the husband leapt down to the new approaching floor and Xanthopella turned her sinuous neck to watch me; two fingers to her lips as if to stifle laughter. "Time to stretch your legs, I think." Did she mean stand? I barely had a choice. The other ends of the thongs binding my wrists were tied wide apart to what was rapidly becoming the ceiling. They no longer reached all the way to the descending mushroom table I knelt upon. I stumbled to my feet before the thongs pulled me up. By the time the mushroom reached the floor and stopped I could not drop my wrists any lower than breast height. I found myself surrounded by familiar elements in an odd composition. The floor was dominated by one big circular leather sofa with me at it's center. The room was octagonal with mirrors on all eight walls, reflecting me off to infinity in eight directions. My arms were now bare and the scarlet of my bra peeked out from above the bridal dress. It was corseted, pulling my waist to wasplike thinness before exploding in a waterfall of lace. My legs had been bare from the beginning. Xanthopella stretched out on the sofa luxuriantly. The husband brought his wife a sparkling champagne as she watched me, and turned immediately to unlacing my corset. Using four hands it practically fell away to reveal my perfectly fine waist. It was about this point that I admitted to myself that my owners were probably going to recoup at least some of their moneys-worth before I could escape back to Father. I never considered telling them to stop. I had voluntarily sold myself. True, I had no intention of honoring the contract but they weren't to know that. I couldn't let them suspect it or escape would be far, far more difficult. "This room," I said. "If it were a human room the sofa would face one wall, and that would be the TV." "Can you dance?" Xanthopella asked almost too casually. "No. I.." I had never really tried. I imagined myself trying to sway provocatively while she watched and suddenly felt very self-conscious and clumsy. "My husband will show you," Xanthopella replied in a never-mind tone. "Just keep light contact with my palms. You will be very beautiful," he assured. I jerked away when his hand brushed my knee, sheepishly returned to follow his movements. Another hand guided my head to sway. He taught me to sometimes keep it parallel, like an Indian dancer, then a roll of the head before locking eyes with Xanthopella again. I realized it must be some alien traditional style. "Am I doing this right?" I asked "Very well," she replied. With two more of his hands he guided my waist to sway, and swing the lace ribbon skirt. The feel of the cloth brushing against my thighs was delicious. The rhythm was beyond me and I gave up trying to second guess the movements he wanted. I may not have been much of a dancer, but my cat-burglar skills meant I could slip through the smallest of spaces. That is all I had to do: slip through the spaces his hands created. I poured through his hands like quicksilver. His hands slid over me always keeping contact. He did not show me what to do with my own hands but they naturally took part: keeping tension against the thongs to preserve balance. I felt very graceful. Xanthopella had drained her glass and now knelt on the edge of the mushroom. Her own hands shaped the space around me now but just in appreciation. Not touching. "Ha," I cried with out of breath glee, "If I'd danced like this on -- auction block..." "If you had danced this dance," she returned with conviction, "we would have been forced to ravish you then and there." As the truth dawned, she whispered in my ear "It is our dance of most blatant seduction." Something icy traced up my spine and cut the straps of my bra. No longer under tension, the magic offworld cloth immediately contracted to its original postage-stamp size, useless for anything. "Hey!" I recaptured my breasts in the cups of my hands. I only had the two hands; they shared twelve. I was unable to defend more flesh as the two aliens began working every exposed inch of me. The dance had not stopped. Merely the space had contracted so that there was nowhere to fully escape those hands. I could not stop. Every movement I made to avoid those stroking fingers or in response to them was part of the dance. Fingers kneaded my tense back and shoulders as others traced my waist, belly and the curve of my inner thighs through the lace. Hands reached up under the lace to massage the back of my thighs and stroke down all the way to my bare feet. Xanthopella in front held my face while she kissed me, and both of them whispered to me how beautiful I was, and described every inch of me, and how they would inflict unbearable pleasure on every inch of me until I begged for mercy; but there would be none. The Lace skirt fell featherlike to my ankles. I tried to grab for it but the ropes to my wrists prevented me. The alien kissing me sunk down to where I could not reach. Her muscular tail wrapped around my ankles and all six limbs became arms to stroke every inch of my exposed legs, and every inch of me that I could not defend. She started kissing and licking my navel and lower, until my panties were wet with her moisture and mine. When she started to roll the elastic down and all my gyrations did nothing but increase the pleasure of her lips and fingers upon me, it struck me how inconsequential the defense of my small breasts behind my cupped hands had become. Yet I could not surrender these last inches of me even though my legs were shuddering and buckling. The ropes would not let me reach lower. Though I crossed my legs tightly, Xanthopella continued to roll my panties down, over my butt till her fingers could stroke the crack of my arse as gently as a feather, and her tongue playfully explored my delta. Her mate behind me began running a finger up my spine and down again, right to my tight buns. And up again. Two hands massaged my scalp expertly while two just held me balanced against his exploring finger. That made five. No, he must be standing on two and using his tail. I was too beset to twist and look. I groaned as the finger or tail traveled down again, tracing between my buttocks and probing the barrier of my closed thighs. Playfully it slipped through, and for a second I saw the stinger-like tip poke from between my thighs, between the fur of my cunt and the cloth of my panties. Curving down it hooked the thin cloth and pulled the panties down slowly to my knees where they fell to my ankles. Xanthopella: The Gift He sank down also and a moist tongue began exploring me from behind. I could not avoid it without exposing more cunt to Xanthopella whose tongue still moistened my delta. These were just playful actions, tickling, stimulating my imagination and shocking me. Preparing me. Fingers stroked my taut belly, making my breath shudder uncontrollably. Fingers dug into the tense muscles of my waist and knees and I shrieked, slipping just a fraction but it was enough. I could not hold myself upright any longer and my hands were pulled higher and higher as I sank. Their fingernails on my taut flesh, their fingers digging into waist and thigh, their hands pulling my knees wider did not allow me to regain anything I lost. They pulled me down as low as I could go, thighs spread wide on pillows that gave no grip. Nothing to prevent gravity pulling them wider. Only my arms, now pulled taut and apart high above my head, supported me. There was no hope of recovery. Hands placed lightly on my thighs held me there. Hands stroking up my stomach and sides and up my outstretched arms took away all control. I keened helplessly. Fingers dug into my waist and knees again and I convulsed, gasping. Their torture of me became more gentle, more sexual. Slower, more purposeful stroking of my taut inner thighs Fingers caressed my breasts and nipples. Their lips, their tongues, explored sensitive but forgotten areas. Behind my ears. The hollows around collarbone and throat. The nape of my neck and the small of my back. Always murmuring how elegant my neck was, how perfectly shaped my ears, how all the muscles in my stomach and back lured the eye down, how all the curves in my thigh were placed there to guide a hand up. To my sex to pleasure me. Two hands explored me there. One circling slowly, stimulating my clit through the flesh. One probing. teasing the lips, kneading the flesh between arse and cunt. They took their time. Twelve hands stimulating me, their bodies curled around me like pythons. Kissing me. Sometimes just capturing my gaze in their massive liquid eyes. My nipples were painfully hard; my captors teased them gently. A burning rose in my loins, spreading out, welling up, rising to sweep me away.. I was totally helpless to prevent it. But each time as my climax would approach, they would torture me again with fingernails drawn lightly over taut flesh, and I would shriek and lose it, and they would start again. Sweat poured from me. Their fingers stimulated and teased me until to come was all I hoped for. If I could just get a hand free, I would masturbate myself to freedom before them. Stimulation and torment merged into one, and all sensation became sexual, I arched under their teasing fingers and they allowed me to grind against their kneading hands, this time the burning rose higher and higher. "Yeeesssssss!" I screamed, But I was not free. Xanthopella descended to lick my wet pussy, penetrating deep into me with her muscular alien tongue. It felt so good but I considered I was demeaning her to accept pleasure like this. Yet she drank me like a long cool drink. The thongs suspending my wrists became slack. The husband's hands supported me and lowered my weakened arms into my lap where they hung. It was all I could do to stroke Xan's elegant jaw and neck, feebly to interpose my fingers and touch myself, to show her she need not do it. She licked around and under them as I gained strength. "I can do it," I murmured. Reluctantly Xan rose, kissing her way up the sensitive skin between thigh and stomach to a hip, biting my waist playfully and drawing a yelp. As she rose she became more dominant, pushing me back with hands on my chest and another on my shoulder. She pushed me onto my back, my spine supported upon the belly of her husband. All of his hands, his lips and his tail were free to explore me. The tip of his tail had curved back on itself to dip into me and slid up and down my nether-lips like a single soft finger. Something fizzed and tickled down there, some secretion. I could not see for my head was tilted back over his shoulder as he kissed up and down my throat. All I could see was, upside-down in the mirrored wall, the beset naked girl between her two alien lovers. "Unnh!" I groaned in protest as he entered me from behind. It did not seem a sexual thing or even a very powerful sensation but for the strangeness of it. His bulbous tail seemed flattened like a hand to push into my crack but what was insinuating itself into my arse felt about the size of a finger, warm and frictionless. Then it merely stayed. I felt that I had been plugged into. If I had not been fighting other battles I would have fought to see what was going on. "Do not be afraid," he said to me as his hands stroked up and down my belly, driving me wild. "My wife is almost ready. I will feel with you." Xanthopella suckled on my taut nipples, nipping playfully. Their expert hands kneaded, stroked, tormented my yearning flesh, up and down my helplessly writhing form. It seemed so long since my last release. Xanthopella, heavy on my stomach, began kissing her way up to the hollow between shoulder and neck, tickling unbearably. She nibbled an ear. The husband interlocked the fingers of my hands with hands of his own, from behind so that my bare palms were face up by my shoulders. My stomach was thrust skyward as his stomach arched. I ground my thighs together, caging the wanton hunger. The Alien crooned to his lover. "This girl is my body. Her sweet juices are my juices. I offer all this joy to you, my love." More arms encircled me and hands gripped my waist, inner thighs, breasts, kneading and squeezing rhythmically as if to force all the blood into my head and air from my lungs. My Lady took my head in her hands and faced me. Her lips barely touching mine, her breath inhumanly fresh. She captured me with her hypnotic blue eyes. Taking everything in from the tremble of my lips to my flushed cheeks. What was she watching for? I felt it before I saw it. Her whole body began to tremble. A throbbing vibration that would almost fade to nothing then return. Then I saw it. The bud on her massive tail had bloomed. From the sheath an ebony stamen emerged. Its edges insubstantial, It buzzed, and this is what caused her tremble. The whole tail was arched, like a stinger ready to plunge. I gasped, and she kissed me, swallowing my tongue and any sound I tried to make. Alien fingers slipped easily between my tightly clenched thighs and just as effortlessly spread them wide apart. Now their breathing was ragged. The process that would naturally end in the death of the male had begun and was unstoppable. Only I would take his place and survive. Unless they had lied! Unless all this attention they had poured into me was because they knew this would be the last night of my life! Her eyes were still on me but the gentleness was through a glaze of predatory lust; my mistress's mind now driven by an imperative clarity that would allow her to murder her most dear, were I were not there to receive her. The male was also under a spell, arched up beneath me pushing me higher. His muscles locked up like iron, imprisoning me until a key opened them. The stinger arched languidly down, butting against my helpless cunt. It's muscular vibration ringing against my pelvis, shaking the taut muscles in my spread thighs and flat stomach. Larger than a baby's head, blunt and heavy. It terrified me as it excited me. I felt the stamen split, and from the sheath another emerged, which split again, until the tip that battered my cunt was a helmet smaller than half my fist. Frictionless and irresistible it penetrated me. The vibration overwhelmed all other sensation. I did not feel my hymen break. Perhaps that was when she paused a second and her blue eyes turned to mine questioningly. Sheath after sheath followed the first, each driving me further into frenzy. I was filled to bursting. Then she truely entered me. A mystery and a fact; I knew it even as I forgot all else. The Stamen swelled inside me, a key turning in the lock. She fit me. Better than any man could. Her sex was the true inverse of mine. Her nether lips flowed around mine like clay made into flesh, trembling light as a feather yet utterly overwealming. I heard a girl's throaty wail and knew the girl was me. They released my legs, but all I could do was grip them futilely down on the buzzing tail. They released my arms but all I could do was hold on to Xanthopella for dear sanity as the sensations grew in me and I climaxed, again and again. My queen sung with joy and release. I could feel her juices pumping into me. We wept together, clutching each other. I fainted sometimes as I climaxed, so I do not know how long or how many times. Finally it appeared to be over, for her tail would only flutter occasionally, causing me to groan. She pulled me on top of her, where I lay unresisting as the other massaged my back, lips kissing up and down my spine from ear to ankle. I slept though much of this and only awoke when the queen finally pulled her stinger from my cunt. Her sex had flowered within mine. Such a length of ribbed and pulsing organ emerged that I was afraid my insides would be emptied. The husband washed me and teat-fed me and washed me again before carrying me to a warm mud pool. I was too tired to protest and fell asleep again on my back in the buoyant restorative mud. *** Swimming with them in water as sparkling clear as diamond; dancing for them naked and uninhibited on the sand of desert isles; telling them my tales and every wonderful thing I ever did, over and over while they praised my abilities, praised my body, praised the entire composition that was my life. Nothing good lasts forever. I knew my Lady Xanthopella was going to tell me they were leaving me. For days I had sensed that their mission on my world was approaching its end. When they told me how they enjoyed and loved me, the words were tainted with regret and apology: that tone reserved for someone that you must leave or someone you must use. Why apologize for using a slave? For a while after that first night I had naively assumed they wanted me for keeps. This had always been unreasonable. For the price of transporting a slave they could buy twenty. No, I was just being bitter. I would be attached to their assets on planet. A chattel of the embassy. At least I would be somewhat safe from Lord Rracc. It did not occur to me that Xanthopella might free me, or that she might sell me. "Soon we must leave your planet," Xanthopella informed me regretfully. "We may not be back for a hundred years. Before we go, we will grant you a secret wish." A secret wish? I had a lot of those. I had a secret wish that I was gagged so that I could not speak, fingers bound so that I couldn't write, and that they were going to take me with them, so far away, ignoring forever my pleas to return. Most of all, to ignore what I had to say next. I looked down. "My father. My mother made me swear on her deathbed to protect him." The words stuck in my craw but I had to say them. "When you leave I, I want to go back to him." She took my head in her hands and kissed my forehead. "No." I was dumbstruck. So convinced had I been that she would grant me such a plain request. She placed a finger thoughtfully on her cheek and looked at me askance, then said to her partner "Perhaps she really does not know what her secret wish is?" "Then perhaps we should keep it a secret a little longer" her mate replied. "In the mean time, we have been invited to a banquet in our honor, by Lord Rracc. Formal wear and slaves were specifically requested." "No!" I gasped. Didn't they know what Lord Rracc wanted? I tried to explain, begged them to listen. But they could not seem to understand, and insisted that in any case it would be rudeness on a diplomatic scale not to grant such a reasonable request. Unlike my request, I though bitterly. What value are a slaves wishes? I would not test my master's benevolence with rebellion. I would bide my time, but if the slightest opportunity of escape appeared before the banquet, I would be gone. *** The carriage door opened and I was helped out onto the palace steps. Me, the most agile thief in the city. But I had never worn heels like these before, my Mistress and Master had insisted I take something for my stomach that killed the nausea but left me dizzy, and my wrists were bound to a hoop of my ball dress, suspended a good foot from my sides at all times. This was formal wear for the lowest level concubine. Lord Rracc's household had sent detailed instructions of expected formal wear to all alien guests. The ball dress itself was a tasteful design (tight corset and white lace though plainer than my bridal dress) until the eye reached down to the second hoop where my wrists were bound. That's where taste and the dress ended. The ball-skirt hid nothing from anyone except me. The collar and leash were black so that no one could miss them amongst all that white lace. All eyes were on me except Lord Rracc's who feigned indifference. Everybody there knew that I was to be the star of the show. I stared back defiantly at the lords and ladies. The room was set up suspiciously like a theater. The wives and concubines sat on cushions at their husband's and owner's feet; unless they sat in their lap. They were overdressed. Certainly none were naked below the hips. None wore collars beyond the most delicate chain. Their faces were painted and disdainful as they very theatrically noted my bare legs and lowly status. These represented the highest social station allowed to a woman. My face burned with shame as they tittered amongst themselves. I consoled myself that they sought to enjoy my shame only because they had no other real power or function. Yet that was not no power at all. I was here at Lord Rracc's design to quell those titters and meaningful glances that he knew followed him like ripples, even if never to his face. In a sense I was here at the Ladies' hand, just as my humiliation and murder would be for their entertainment. No pillow was provided for me. Of course I had to be lower than the lowest there. At least this let me push the hoop all the way to the floor. To my horror, as I sat down, instead of encountering cold floor I discovered that an alien tail had surreptitiously slipped under the hoop and the bulbous end became my cushion. I couldn't jump up and scream. I didn't want these Lords and ladies to find out I was a screamer. Perhaps no-one would even notice. Perhaps I was overreacting, since I observed that some of the lords had their hands through slits in their favorite concubines ball-gowns as they sat on their lap. Those cumbersome dresses were not for chastity so much as privacy. I had no choice but to settle down on the bulb. It was soft yet muscular. And hot. The tapered tip began patting me gently on the mons. I glanced round at Xanthopella uncertainly. What were they up to? Did they know what they were doing? Was this betrayal? But she just smiled her alien smile and tousled my short hair as if there was nothing to worry about. Throughout the banquet the petting continued, and she stroked my hair affectionately whenever the conversation touched on me, or if I became restless. For the most part I was ignored and I began to hope this would continue. Maybe it was something they had given me, but I found myself able to close my eyes and forget the Lords and Ladies, and just dwell on the warmth lapping at my arse and my Lady's hands stroking, and all the things this could progress to if this silly party would just end. My reverie was shattered by the one voice I had dreaded. Not Lord Rracc's. He would not start this. Could not admit to personal involvement. Another Noble had singled himself out in my mind. A sycophantic toad who had licked his way up from bastard son to Duke. He would be the one. "The most amusing thought has just occurred to me. Here we are sharing a feast but where is the entertainment? I was asked especially to arrange it yet somehow.. I forgot!" He laughed dorkishly. I almost called DORK out loud. Things had been going so nicely. "There is a tradition in these cases. Well, more of an ancient Law. It hasn't been called upon for a hundred years, but is still technically in force. I am not sure I should even mention it. Our guests might feel put upon by it all." Before my owners could speak, a girlish voice broke in. "Oh please, tell us what the law says!" one of Toady's concubines rested her chin on his knee and begged in one of the worst displays of overacting. Applause followed, and she grinned around at her peers. At least she had the pudency to avoid my eyes. "Oh, it is simply this. If a Lord puts on a feast, the guest is expected to bring the entertainment. A sort of show-and-tell. Not to do so would be the gravest insult. It is silly, but the law is an arse and all that. And it is really no joke, for we in this room represent the highest arses in the land! A-haha!" He took a sip of wine while others appreciated his wit. "I would never have dreamed of speaking, thus placing such a task on our guests, but then the shear coincidence of it all struck me." He beamed. "It is really no task at all is it? For you are leaving. You would hardly be dragging a bargain slave along with you, I assumed. So you were probably looking for a quick way to be rid of her anyhow. It doesn't matter if she is talentless, that you have no program arranged. I can arrange a program, and the best, most traditional entertainment is ephemeral and cannot be rehearsed." "He's--!" Lying. My cry was thankfully cut short by a jerk on the collar. To accuse a noble of lying would have sealed my fate. It was not sealed yet. There had to be some way to escape still. Xanthopella turned one eye, birdlike, to inspect this man. "hmmn, yes. We actually had encountered that quaint law, and we have heard of these traditional entertainments. Wicking. Yes. I regret that to donate this poor sweet thing to such a purpose would be absolutely.." The toady was frowning and made as if to interrupt, but the alien's powerful voice allowed none. "Humane. Humane. Yes. I think that word is appropriate. To burn out a life that serves no more purpose, quickly, in a single night. That would be the human thing to do. I fear the alternative would be.. The purpose we procured her for would be.. Inhuman. And infinitely prolonged. Although... I am not human. Perhaps it is culturally acceptable to be inhuman? I decided before your invitation that I required a human's perspective on my quandary." The silence stretched on for seconds after her beautifully mellow voice released them. When Toady finally replied, it was as if he had been kicked. "Er, ah.. Perhaps if you made your .. more explicit .. that is.." He stifled a glance in Lord Rracc's direction. "We could all help you decide if your plan is sufficiently, I mean too inhumane" "Very well. There is of course a personal use we make of her, between me and my mate. But I will not discuss that here. The second purpose is to hear her sing." One of the younger concubines piped up sourly "That's not very inhumane." "Really? She insists that it is. So far as we have established the meaning of that strange word. And she struggles and fights so as she sings. We have to keep her restrained. And afterwards she begs to be returned to her father. She makes a fine musical instrument. The throaty wail of a human is quite an aphrodisiac to our species and several others among the civilized worlds. So primitive and honest. Don't your own police forces use similar techniques to encourage truthfulness, to make criminals sing?" Toady's concubine gasped in unrehearsed horror. "You are going to torture her because you like the sounds she makes?" Xanthopella: The Gift "I am not sure that word is sufficient. I would show you, my dear, but most humans profess to being revolted by the spectacle. Hard to believe, but.." Toady interjected "show us, please. We are more open minded than most." "Show us. Show us" the Nobles began to chant. Lord Rracc was fair drooling in anticipation. "I suppose this would satisfy the requisites of your quaint customs..." My Lady rose, taking a bearskin from her seat. I knew better than my audience what my Lady planned. She wasn't going to hurt me. She was just going to fuck me senseless in front of all these Nobles. Clever, in an alien sort of way. She may have outwitted the nobles, and perhaps saved my life but I might have just preferred it the other way. "Wait." It was Lord Rracc. Shit he was onto us. Maybe my expression had given something away. "I will decide whether your display constitutes entertainment" Lord Rracc snarled. Everybody gasped at his impropriety. But he was still Lord. My Lady froze for a second and I thought my lungs would collapse. "Very well," my Lady smiled. "Then I will dedicate my art to you personally." A ripple ran through the audience at that word. Everyone knew that to be the one word Lord Rracc did not wish to hear. Xanthopella threw the bearskin center stage, made me to kneel on it. She whispered in my ear, "You were not meant to guess my plan so easily, I am proud of you, but now things are more difficult. There is a telepath here. They read your mind. If you make any more clever deductions you are surely dead. I know you can't choose not to think. We did not drug you enough. So I must distract you. I am so sorry but I need you to be a little afraid of me." The only thing that could save me now was-- Before I could finish that thought I heard the gasp of our audience and felt the dull throb of her stinger unfurl. "No--" I began but already it was upon me. The audience oooed and ahhhed, and I shrieked in shock as the smallest bud drilled into me, and that bud was immediately swallowed by the next larger as it followed after. It took two seconds for the whole member to bury it self in side me, but then instead of locking she began to immediately withdraw, sucking air back into my diaphragm that had been expelled in that first shout. Then it returned. Faster. In and out. Sucking my breath in and out with it. To my audience it must appear that she was plunging a two foot blunt and knotted saber, buzzing like a saw, into my cunt right up to my heart. Again and again. From their hands at white faces I could tell they thought me already done for but I just kept on crying out with each thrust. Finally it settled inside me, heavy and it's vibrations shaking me like a child's toy. She had never taken me like this before. I was barely wet and not at all prepared but she had entered me with ease. Now she was inside me and my body was nowhere near catching up. I was kicking and chewing the rug but I didn't even know why. The sensation was not even sexual yet, just an incredible itch that I could not scratch, or the opposite, kneading a tense muscle that I never knew I had. Whatever, I was pinned down like a butterfly, just trying to sort out the sensations that were buffeting my entire body through my engorged cunt. My head swam and I was becoming faint. Fingers began loosening the corset and things became clearer. My Lady was raping me in front of all these Nobles and somehow this was a good thing. The sensation became warmer and wetter as my body finally began to catch on. I found myself moaning in involuntary gratitude and my motions obtained a rhythm and purpose. Instinctive. To grind myself into that fur. To gather up as much rug as possible and squeeze it to death between my thighs; to clench huge tufts of it between my fingers and pull it to my stomach. My fists were still bound to the hoop at my sides, pulled behind me and up into the air but still I tried. I opened my eyes and saw the concubines fanning themselves. Lips were flushed and chewed. Some pretended to comment to their neighbors and titter but it was fake. I knew I was going to cum in front of these women and I wasn't going to be ashamed at all. It was just so obvious that they had never been touched, and would never be touched like I was being touched right now. I was making them wet with envy and they daren't even speak in case their voice shook and betrayed the truth to their sisters and masters. That realization coincided with a shudder of pleasure and I gasped, and saw Toadie's Concubine gasp in simultaneous comprehension. I bet she was the telepathic snitch. I was going to cum thinking sadomasochistic thoughts right at her. I felt it building unstoppably. "Yessss....." It rose and rose until I thought it would never break. Still I felt my Lady's sweet breath by my ear as she whispered "Sorry." Her nails of one hand slid down my spine as other fingers pinched special parts of me and I shrieked, the building wave of my climax collapsing without ever breaking as if the beach it's target had suddenly dropped out from beneath it. I howled through clenched teeth in frustration and betrayal. Xanthopella began speaking to her audience. "If you know what to look for, you can watch this girl's emotions rush around her nervous system like static electricity. Think of running your finger up her spine, and her shudder running in front of your finger like a wave, or the snapping of a whip. A skilled artisan can chase these spasms around her body until it jiggles like a puppet on a string, or chase them to a single special point and with a simple nerve pinch, squash them like they have never been." A single finger ran up my spine in demonstration, and my back arched like a scorpion curling up to sting itself, breasts jutting like horns, till I collapsed again onto my chest, gasping. "By skillful application of these techniques, I can drive this girl as close to orgasm as I wish, keep her there as long as I wish." "No, don't do this," I begged breathlessly. "Why would I do this?" Xanthopella continued on in the same lecturing tone. "Because I require to demonstrate a condition that is exceedingly rare in any true slave. Total submission and the lack of any guile." She began stroking my back. The touch was subtle yet devastating. The throbbing in my cunt was the power but her fingers moved it where they wished. There was no question that she could and would do what she threatened, and I was in no state to speculate why. "Cyn," she crooned. "Where were you on the night of the 20th of the first month of this year." "Please. Don't know." "That was the night of the imperial ball, The one night when the noble's homes are least guarded." Lord Rracc's chair creaked ominously. Then I understood, and looked at her in terror. "No, don't make me tell. He'll kill me. Kill me worse than anyone's been killed ever." "But I think you want to tell." "Noooo...don' make meeeee..." So it began. The only time Xanthopella would ever in any way mistreat me, 'least without my permission... Piece by piece she made me tell, dragged each sordid and shameful detail out one after the other, like pulling a pearl necklace from my butt. No one could possibly doubt me. I was sincere. I couldn't have lied. Everyone in the city knew at least half the story anyway. Things like that get out. And Xan' was right. I did want to tell. I came to, cold, wet and shivering, my limbs paralyzed with exhaustion like a castaway washed up on the beach after a storm. The battle was already over. Lord Rracc had been dragged from the room a screaming wreck. Y' see, everyone knew but everyone could pretend not to know. That way they were safe. After my testimony they couldn't pretend any longer. Lord Rracc would had to have killed them. So when Xanthopella pointed out that legally it would be inappropriate to for them to pass judgment on any litigation that emerged based on events at that banquet, since they themselves could be called as witnesses, and to convene a jury of his peers with a sum social standing equal to his own would now require a jury of half the planet listening to the accounts of the highest remaining nobles describing one after the other the aforelabeled events, my convincing tale of Lord Rracc's Handkerchief and the Very Tasteless Urn.. You get the impression. Xanthopella I love you. Xanthopella helped me sit up, and draped black lace around me. "What happened to my tutu?" I asked weakly. Xanthopella directed my gaze to where my previous gear hung, off the truly dejected figure of Toadie's concubine. "When I told the Nobles and Concubines of your discovery, that she was the telepath, it suddenly became the most humane thing to take her with us. Her 'sisters' would have ripped her apart. You may do with her as you will, within SPCH guidelines naturally." "Naturally. I am an H after all. This black lace thing was hers?" "Yes." "Why are you sort of rolling me up in it, I mean instead of the other way. Arms through sleeves I mean." Her nimble hands finished up quickly. "The arms tie at the front like this, the belt goes around the ankles like this.." My Lady examined my bonds and sighed with satisfaction. "There is something I have to tell you. About your father. You better lie down." She pushed my shoulders back down to the rug and looked into my eyes. I was suddenly afraid. I hated him so much, but when the moment came, I had looked after him for so long. For so long he had defined my life. "He is beyond your help now." "How.. when did this happen?" "Just now. When I wrapped you up in that sexy black lace and swore that I would never let you go, would ignore all your pleas, never let you waste a second more of your life on him. Under any condition." I closed my eyes and smiled, plotting my escape already. In my heart I knew she would never allow it. *** EPILOGUE Nothing that My Lady Xanthopella told poor Lord Rracc was strictly untrue. I have sung the story of Lord Rracc's Handkerchief before many guests and hosts on many worlds and was once told by the Great Dragon Emperor that my untamed voice was really quite pleasant. Everyone knows the true reason for a child of a such a lowly race to travel with the famous/infamous diplomat-sabotour Xanthopella and her husband. Or at least they think they do. I am lover between Xanthopella and her husband, allowing them to experience pleasures that are traditionally terminal and tragic to their otherwise near immortal species. No one would dream to mention this. I am also like the daughter she cannot have. This stems directly from the same unmentionable. My use is so thoroughly known and unmentioned that no one ever asks what skills I had before. The best sneak-theif from a city of sneak-theives. Oh? so you were some sort of minor celebrity on you world then? Would you believe that a person could look at you and know which pocket held your most valuable item?. Would you believe that a person could brush past you and empty three pockets without you knowing? You would not. Not unless you were continually warned by your society, or competed against others in this skill daily. No petty thief could live on that skill on a civilized planet. Dead magic. People forget it is possible. Still, the occasional document has disappeared mysteriously just when my Lady appears most beset. I know she loves me anyway but this is what makes me most proud. Inset: Me at an imperial ball. A serene disinterested doll passed from partner to partner. You can't always see my hands. Would you consider that scratches on wood or cloth or paper could once hold speech? That skill takes years of training and is quite redundant. Modern paper is telepathicRAM. I learnt the basics in an afternoon. More dead magic. Xanthopella is struggling to learn the basics of writing from me. I know her reasons far exceed mine and like all my skills may become worthless once used more than twice. Still, it makes me proud. Xanthopella is not perfect. Twice I have escaped when she promised I could not; forcing her to backtrack, searching garbage scows and posting large rewards. On the first of those occasions I made it nearly a third of the way home. She was so apologetic, and so good to me when she caught me. The second time I planned much more carefully, acted more randomly, and found my very first jump promoted to first class, and her waiting at the end of it. I can rest my planning until I learn her secret. I suspect The Snitch. That is just an expression of affection now. What is left to tell? The story of how I came by Lord Rracc's Handkerchief? How it happened that the Very Tasteless urn of his dead wife was carried from his bedroom in the middle of the night by his own guards and thrown into the river? With him still attached? If you live anywhere on the spiral arm, and you have paid any attention at all, you will already have heard it. END