Exalted Autochthonia Fic

Fourth shift was just beginning in the Patropolis of Arat, and the heat from the forges caused sweat to run down Usho’s brow and chest. His eyes watered, and his nose burned, as he continued to stand impatiently under the crude graffiti of the Divine Minister Noi.  He was wearing nothing but a thick sash around his hips, and occasionally glanced enviously at his partner and pimp, a dark skinned woman still wearing the thick protective clothing typical of the Populat. Mercifully, Ishara had forgone her face-covering helm to occasionally give him a reassuring smile. He had to admit that it helped to put him at ease.

 

The truncheon she kept on her hip, however, was something of a turn off. The endless lectures and orders she kept giving him weren’t much better.

 

“Stop looking so nervous. You’ve fucked lots of folks, now you’re just going to do it professionally. You don’t want to look like you’re afraid of them. You want to look mysterious. Exotic.” Her tone was more than a little condescending, and Usho rolled his eyes.

 

 “I’m a Lumpen who used to pump a bellows for three shifts daily. Does that seem exotic to you?”

 

“And look at all the muscles that gave you! For a Lumpen working as a glass-whore, you’ve got precious few scars. That’s definitely an asset in this line of work.” Usho could give only a sour smile at that. A former shift chief reduced to a position that was barely more tolerable than outright slavery, he frequently contemplated jumping into one of the smelting vats at the forges to finally escape from the endless shifts. Becoming a glass-whore pimped out by one of the guards assigned to monitor him and the other Lumpen in his shift was actually an improvement. Though it still involved a lot of a different sort of pumping.

 

Ishara’s gaze took on a predatory gleam. “I’ve been talking you up in my barracks for dozens of shifts. People will be lining up with their glots.” Isara saw the obvious lack of enthusiasm in his eyes and continued, “I’ll pry them off if they get too rough. Just… try to enjoy yourself.”

 

Usho could only give a noncommittal grunt, before noting the crowd moving by the stall as the shift bell changed. Some of the women heading to their shifts looked at him with some interest, and a couple of men as well. Of far more interest were the potential customers returning from the shifts. They were covered in the dirt and grime of factory residue, still stinking of smoke and sweat. That was fine for Usho. Everyone sweated this close to the Prime Forge District, and if he stood outside for another hour he’d have his own layer of soot to go with that.

 

It was a young woman dressed in a thick uniform and goggles who approached Ishara. Usho couldn’t tell if her hair color was naturally black or if that just came about after working, but she had a symmetrical, freckled face and wasn’t too thin. The two women whispered quietly amongst themselves, and while Usho did his best to remain indifferent, he could clearly hear them discussing the length and girth of his genitals. After a minute, the laborer handed a fistful of glass beads to his pimp. Usho was momentarily stunned. He had no idea he was worth that much.

 

Ishara snapped her fingers in front of his face, causing him to take his eyes off the glots, and said, “You’re hers for the next thirty minutes. Drink this if you end up finishing too quick and need to get it up again.”

 

Ishara quickly pressed a stoppered vial of a colorless liquid in his hands, before the other woman swiftly yanked off the sash covering his groin, turned him around, and slapped his behind. As she pushed him inside the small tent, he glanced back and saw Ishara fumble around with a timepiece. This was not nearly as intimate as the times he spent with his other shift workers in the storehouse.

 

Putting aside the vial on the small table, he immediately responded to the woman’s urgency. He removed her cap and goggles, and was better able to see a twinkling black soul gem on her brow and a pair of lust-hazed eyes beneath the ash and soot. He removed her gloves, sucking lightly on a pair of surprisingly delicate fingers. One of his hands unzipped her jacket, stopping only for a moment to note that she wasn’t wearing anything else beneath her work clothes, her small breasts and hard nipples standing proud in the candlelight. He pushed her back towards a chair, hurriedly undoing her boots and taking a moment to lick the sole of a foot. She panted heavily, and he kissed her with passion as he helped her undo her belt and slip off her trousers.  The entire process was a rapid and hurried affair, as it seemed the both of them were determined that she would get her money’s worth.

 

She leaned forward in the chair, panting and eager for more. Usho stood high on his knees front her, his eyes fixed on hers. His client’s own eyes, however, were focused firmly on his stiffening member. She moaned shamelessly as one of his hands probed inside her, as Usho’s other hand ran through her slick hair. Lightly, he pushed her head back, tearing her attention away from his member and forcing her eyes to look into his. Slowly, he removed the pins that kept her hair in place, as her moans grew more and more pronounced.

 

She was more than ready after he finished letting her hair down, her eyes closing and her curled toes brushing against his hard shaft. Rather than fall backwards in her seat as he expected, she just sat forward on the very edge, a feral smile on her face as she bent down and kissed him eagerly. Their tongues warred against each other, before Usho let his lips slide down to her neck, down to her breasts, past her ribs and stomach, until his head was level with her groin. He pushed her legs apart, exposing every inch of her aroused body to his gaze. And then he stood up.

 

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “My name is Usho. Tell me what you like, and how you like it,” before nibbling lightly on an earlobe.

 

The line may have been a bit cliché, but judging by her shuddering breath it went over well.  She pushed him down on his knees once more as she spread her legs further apart, smiling shyly.

 

That was a fairly clear signal. He set his tongue to work, grateful that none of the residue from the factories seeped onto her skin from her uniform. He started at her thighs, licking away her mingled sweat and sexual fluids, before moving upwards and letting his tongue caress her pert breasts. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck as he suckled on an areola, and Usho was grateful that basic hygiene regulations required that nails be kept trim. Taking in a deep ragged breath, she leaned back, one of her breasts leaving his mouth. She pushed her hips forward while her head was leaning back, clearly wanting him to get on with it already.

 

Her mound wasn’t clean-shaven, but mercifully she kept it trim. His tongue ravished her clit and he noted with some satisfaction, as her hands massaged the back of his head, that she was finally beginning to speak to him.

 

“Yes, oh fuck, oh yes, fuck me with your tongue,” wasn’t the most poetic sort of language, but verbal reinforcement was always encouraging. What struck him most about her voice, aside from her obvious desperation for release, was just how musical it was. Most of the workers in this district had their voices fall into a dry wheeze as the years went by. She was definitely a stranger to the forge districts, likely reassigned there by the whims of one foreman or another. It was a pity. A voice like hers would only last for a few more years before the smoke finally ruined it. He decided he wanted to hear more of that voice, and redoubled his efforts.

 

“OH. Oh Noi, I’m almost, wait, I-“ he quickened his pace, just to make her louder, and hear her blather endlessly in that aesthetically pleasing voice, before she began to push him away with some urgency. Usho was surprised, given that she seemed to be enjoying herself.

 

Looking up at her, he saw that her eyes were unfocused, her entire body taut and on the edge of climax. She bent down and hungrily licked away what remained of her ardor from his face. While he found the whole process quite appealing, Usho was still confused. Brushing her hair aside delicately with one hand, she simply whispered to him.

 

“We’re still on the clock, Usho.” Spreading her legs, she shivered, and said more loudly, “Drag. Me. Out.”

 

Slowly she spread her legs again, and Usho set his tongue to work more slowly, pausing now and then to lavish her stomach and thighs with kisses. He didn’t know how long he spent between her legs before she pushed his head back again. On unsteady legs, she lifted herself off her seat as Usho stood up with her. She pulled him into a slow kiss, her tongue locking with his, but with less desperation than before. Her fingers traced a line from his chest downwards, before wrapping her fingers around the shaft of his stiff member. Usho let out a soft breath, and closed his eyes as she began to stroke him.

 

As far as hand jobs went, it wasn’t the best one he received. Her touch was too light, and it was apparent from her hesitation that she was treading some unfamiliar territory with him. Nevertheless he let out a sharp gasp of pleasure that he hoped would please her, as he caressed her back and behind. He varied his touch, sometimes squeezing, sometimes rubbing, until she began to press herself tightly against him. She nuzzled his chest as she whispered to him.

 

“Fuck me, Usho.”

 

It was one of the most direct requests he received in some time. He guided her to the small bed kept in the corner of the tent, letting her fall back on top the cloth sheets as he kissed her neck. While the mattress wasn’t in the best condition, nobody was supposed to actually sleep on top of it anyways. Holding her legs apart, he guided himself inside of her.

 

It was not uncommon for people all over the Octet to compare lovemaking to a piston, driving in and out at a regular, furious pace before reaching a scheduled climax. Usho despised the metaphor. Most factory workers he slept with wanted to get away from the machinery, the schedules, and the sheer drudgery of it all. Usho’s rhythm was irregular, starting slowly before gradually increasing in pace, as she writhed beneath him. Just as she was about to reach her peak, he suddenly shifted their positions, pulling her on top of him.

 

Her surprise at the change produced an interesting effect; with her arms clenching tightly around his back while some of her other muscles squeezed his member tightly. Her movements were ferocious as she fucked him, droplets of her sweat flying in every direction. It was impossible for Usho to maintain his control as she tightened around him, and instead matched her movements, pushing further inside her as she ground down atop him. Finally she pressed herself hard against his chest, her eyes rolling back in her head during her climax. As her walls clenched tightly around his shaft, Usho could no longer contain himself and released inside her.

 

As she fell back against the pillow, her eyes heavy and half open, it was clear that she’d had enough for the time she had left with him. Usho, however, was not quite done yet. Reaching beneath the bed, he pulled out a sealed container. She looked up at him with some curiosity, before Usho delicately pulled her off the bed. She stood up, still somewhat disoriented, while Usho kneeled behind her.

 

Opening the sealed container he removed a hot, moist towel, and cleaned her efficiently. The warmth provided her a different sort of pleasure, not sexual but certainly quite enjoyable. By the time he cleaned away the residues of their enthusiastic lovemaking as well as what remained of her labors earlier in the day, the woman quietly glanced towards the entrance to the tent, and whispered conspiratorially at him.

 

“My name is Gasi,” she said, and he noted with some wonderment that the woman’s face was flushed with embarrassment. “I’ve been working first and third shift over here for a few months now. Do you understand? I’m working very close by, and I think I would like to see more of you, Usho.”

 

Quietly, he hoped that she was speaking out of lust and the afterglow of sex rather than misplaced affection. Nevertheless, he smiled pleasantly. It was never wise to alienate a customer.

 

“I would like that very much,” he said politely.

 

She seemed delighted by the response, and kissed him on the brow before hastily slipping on enough of her clothes to be presentable enough to walk the streets. The most she offered his pimp as she left was a curt nod.  

 

Ishara stepped into the tent, looking at Usho with a rather severe frown on her face that left Usho perplexed. But all she did was open up her belt pouch, pulling out the glots his client gave her and started to split the take between the two of them. As she counted out the colored glass beads, she talked to him in a distracted tone.

 

“There’s a spigot just down the block you can wash yourself off. A couple of the locals will have this place cleaned up before you get back. Drink the vial I gave you too, you’ll be on again pretty soon.”

 

He sighed, before nodding silently and gathering his rather modest clothing. While he could admit to himself that this life was probably better than operating the bellows, he noted with some distaste that while Ishara left some of the money on the table, she had pocketed away most of the glots he made.

 

“Hey! I thought this was a partnership!”

 

Ishara was irritated, but not to the point where she was willing to unhook the truncheon from her belt. She regarded him coolly, prodding his chest as she spoke in a low voice. “We’ve got only one tent, only one mattress, and last I checked you’ve only got one cock.” She shoved him back, and he fell sitting on top of the bed. Her soft reproach became more of a menacing growl as she held his chin in a gloved hand.

 

“You came to me because you were sick of how monotonous your shifts were. You wanted to do your work naked and atop silk sheets, not on top of a flea bitten mattress. If you really want to break into the glass market, instead of scrabbling around for a handful of glots, then we need to expand.” Some of the menace faded from her tone, as she grabbed him by the hand, pulling him off the bed and dragging him onto streets. With the new shift just beginning, very few of the workers even noticed that he was naked, and even fewer of them cared. It was common for glass-whores in the Prime Forge District to advertise themselves as brazenly as they could manage.

 

Isara pointed upwards, away from the blazing forges and towards the mighty steel towers of Arat in the distance. Arat’s towers stood so high that Usho’s neck strained, and they were so bright that they exuded banners of light that pushed away the darkness surrounding the city. But the light wasn’t the lurid red of district’s flames. The light was a brilliant gold soaring above the smoke, and Usho recalled the lessons the Lectors taught to him when he was a child. Before humans dwelt within the Machine God, they lived in a land called Creation, where a brilliant gold lamp hung in the sky. It was like looking towards the “sun.”

 

Absently he realized that Ishara had removed one of her gloves. Her bare hand stroked his stiffening member right there in the street. She whispered in his ear as her hand moved up and down his shaft. “I’m going to get us both up there and have you naked on silk sheets, between the legs of a Plutarch begging for more.”

 

She painted a seductive picture, but Usho wasn’t nearly as blind to his situation as she assumed he was. He was a still just a Lumpen whore at the very bottom of the towers. And if he kept on pressing the issue of money, Ishara would just find someone else. Nevertheless, he played along with the fantasy she was selling him. The hand job, he admitted, was also quite nice.

 

He smiled at her, enjoying his moment in her grasp. “Between the legs of a Plutarch begging me for more. I really like the sound of that.” And Usho also admitted that the thought of it was even better than Ishara’s hands. He had a pleasant time gazing dreamily at the towers as she stroked him, before her hand suddenly left him. Before he could voice his protests, he saw Ishara in an animated conversation with a plump blonde haired woman, who occasionally gave him shy glances. He was suddenly aware that Ishara’s rather intimate pep talk on a busy city street was also a calculated bit of advertising. Sighing despondently, he gathered as much of his modesty as he could, determined to get clean and presentable before he met his next client.

 

---

 

Junior Plutarch Gasi sighed wistfully as the lift ascended rapidly, her fingers idly brushing through her short black hair. The ministerial subroutines that guarded the elevator asked her no questions, merely scanning her bright orange soulgem and her identification badge before allowing her access to the upper towers.

 

She lightly brushed the false soulgem in her pocket before grinning down at the receding city streets. As a Junior Plutarch, she was in the awkward position of having too few glots to reliably afford the glass-whores of the upper levels and too important to slum it on the lower levels with the Populat. The other two women who shared her apartment were in a strictly monogamous relationship, unwilling to occasionally include a third person. She was only able to find real relief when her supervisor caught her pleasuring herself in her cubicle. Despite her embarrassment at the situation, Gasi’s supervisor understood her issues. This was a common problem, she had said, and she was willing to discreetly provide Gasi one of the soulgem caps the Regulators employed. It was important that the Junior Plutarch’s work would not suffer because of carnal needs.

 

If anything, however, her needs grew rather than receded. While her lifestyle was modest in Arat’s upper reaches, on the lower levels she had enough glots to be serviced for whole shifts by an entire team of dedicated prostitutes. The ability to have just about any attractive glass-whore she laid eyes on was a level of power she had never before experienced in her life as an anonymous bureaucrat.

 

She bit her lip as she stepped out of the lift. Perhaps that was what was making her so indiscreet. She enjoyed her last tryst enough that she didn’t use an alias. While it was unlikely that Usho would ever recognize her name, if he were to ever see her real soulgem…

 

The revelation of her slumming would cause a scandal. The Adjudicators would ask her some pointed questions as to how she obtained a counterfeit soulgem, leading them all the way back to her supervisor, and leaving her with a black mark that would forever dash any hope she had of being promoted.

 

She walked the crowded hallways of one of Arat’s many tenement complexes, contemplating even more potential doomsday scenarios. What if Usho blackmailed her? What if the scandal that resulted would lead her demotion to a Lumpen? It was “what if” all the way through the halls until her trembling hands reached the door of her home. Before opening the door she took a few moments to regain her composure, but she couldn’t shake an indisputably bizarre feeling.

 

This was all very exciting.

 

---

 

Several days later…

 

The council chambers of Arat’s Tripartite Council, were an extravagant affair. Decoration for its own sake, rather than merely propaganda, became more common the higher one climbed in Arat’s towers. Because Arat was the greatest city of Claslat, the greatest of all the Eight Nations, the greatest of Arat’s leaders were allowed to have the greatest room in the country to bicker over extremely petty things.

 

Currently the city’s Autocrat and Celebrant were shouting furiously at one another while the rest of the council quietly looked away and a Junior Plutarch dutifully transcribed every invective exchanged.

 

“She is a disruption!” Arat’s Autocrat shouted. “The glass market is too vital a component of the city’s productivity!” As he continued his tirade he took another bunch of grapes from the large silver platter in the center of the table. Decades of very stressful schedules gave him a tendency to overeat.

 

By contrast, the Celebrant of Arat was a thin old woman who clung tightly to her staff of office to avoid pummeling her respected colleague. She settled for banging it against the floor before shouting back, “The Shining Spark of Devotion is one of the city’s most respected Champions. If the market’s activities displease her, that simply means we must regulate it all the more strictly.” Claslat’s Theomacracy never approved of the glass market: nothing good came when beads of glass could substitute for honest labor.

 

Outraged, the Autocrat shouted back, “Respected? She is feared! It’s all the Plutarchs can do to put enough spin on her activities to paint her as a reformer rather than a thug. Her activities have ruined a Regulator sting operation, and they have proof of her committing violent assault on members of the Populat who indulge in the market. She has cost the city valuable labor until those citizens recover. If,” he added for emphasis, “they ever manage to completely recover.”

 

Massaging her brow, the Celebrant finally relented. If Shining Spark’s activities angered the city’s peacekeepers, then condoning her actions would be very counterproductive to the Theomachracy’s well being. Which, of course, was also Arat’s well being. Smoothly, the Celebrant passed the buck.

 

Fixing an acid glare at the oldest member of the Council, she shouted, “Assaulting the Populat! How is it that the Luminors chose such an unstable soul for incarnation as an Alchemical Exalt?”

 

The head of the Glorious Luminors of Brilliant Rapture quietly stroked his long gray beard, the few hairs that his hand pulled away being the only indication of his fury. “Her soul was immaculate,” he said in a soothing voice. “Dozens of lifetimes spent in unflinching service to the state. No less than four prior incarnations as a Champion, all ending in selfless sacrifice. Her soul has been among the finest in Arat. In Claslat. In the Eight Nations.”

 

The Autocrat rolled his eyes in skepticism. “Yet the Champion’s behavior is defective.”

 

It was the first time in decades that the head of the Luminors lost his composure. “Incorrect! False! She is simply TOO perfect!” Before the other members of the Council could proclaim the absurdity of that statement, the Luminor stood up and glared down at the other Councilors. “After so many lifetimes of patriotism and spiritual devotion, she has become tuned to the will of the Machine God to a far greater degree than other Alchemicals. She is becoming a being of purest reason and enlightenment, that seeks the betterment of all of Autochthonia… while remaining completely divorced from such petty niceties as empathy and pity.”

 

He fixed a cold stare at the Celebrant, who was momentarily stunned. “Your approval of her endless spiritual retreats has cut her off even further from human contact. The prolonged isolation has exacerbated her condition.”

 

It was the head of the Surgeons who reluctantly raised her hand. “Do you believe the Champion must be decommissioned?” The other members of the Council shifted uncomfortably at the euphemism.

 

Shaking his head, the Luminor continued. “No. Not yet. It is possible that we can salvage her by reversing her spiritual growth. She must fall prey to the temptations of human failings. Uninhibited emotion. Gross illogic. Desire.”

 

As the last word left his lips, Junior Plutarch Ghisa raised her head from the minutes of the meeting and said in a surprisingly confident voice, “Esteemed Luminor, I might have a solution.”

 

---

 

It was the end of another shift, and Usho was proving to be fairly popular. The amount of glass he was able to pull in was making his pimp very happy, enough that she was willing to give him a bigger share of the glots. However, she insisted that he do some work for his bonus. It seemed that the hours she spent outside the tent, listening to him drive other women over the edge had piqued her interest.

 

Ishara had made it clear at the beginning that she wasn’t interested in the pretentions of intimacy that his clients preferred. As he leaned forward to try to kiss the tall woman, she quickly shoved him back. Looking imperious, she said, “Don’t get pretentious. Pretending to be lovers might get your clients off, but I’m the pimp and you’re the whore. We keep this professional.” She snapped her fingers, clearly in command. “Strip.”

 

For Usho it was a simple process to undo the sash around his waist. He was practiced enough at his trade that he was already iron hard. Ishara simply nodded absently in approval, seeing him work enough times that his nude body held no mysteries for her. Standing opposite to her, Usho eyed Ishara carefully.

 

This would be the first time Usho would see Ishara naked, and in spite of the growing strains of their working relationship he was very curious to see what her body looked like. She stood by the table and carefully undid her weapon belt, setting it down gingerly. As he stared at her, he noticed a slight flush on her dark cheeks that was from more than just the district’s heat.

 

As she undid her boots and gloves, he noticed that her hands weren’t quite so steady for a practiced warrior, spending just a bit too long fumbling with her laces. As she undid the buttons of her leather jacket her eyes would occasionally glance furtively up at Usho’s face. She hesitated for a moment as she lifted off her shirt, exposing bound breasts and a muscular stomach. Usho noted the scars from various wounds and injuries, and began to understand the reasons for her hesitation.

 

She closed her eyes and pulled down her trousers slowly, leaning forward and giving Usho a generous view of her cleavage. As her eyes flickered open briefly to glance at Usho’s again, he had to give a bemused grin as he realized her intentions. The hardened street thug wanted him to find her sexy. In spite of her speech earlier, Ishara was clearly trying to get more than just an orgasm from this.

 

As she stepped out of her pants and leaned back, Usho saw that she was also wearing a sleek black thong around her waist that matched the black bindings enwrapping her breasts. His mind set to work. While she was definitely not in love with him, undergarments like that were hardly utilitarian. He certainly spent enough time with her to know that she didn’t have any sexual partners that this was for. Tearing his gaze away from the fascinating clothes, he noticed that there were more scars on her legs and knees. Her muscles were well defined, with strong shoulders, corded legs, and large biceps.

 

It was then that Ishara noticed Usho’s curious expression, and she shook her head. She covered her stomach and her chest, and looking away said, “This is a mistake. Just take your glots, you worked hard enough today.”

 

While they wouldn’t have called each other friends, Ishara spent enough time seeing him naked for their relationship to be fairly informal. He raised an eyebrow, and said hesitantly, “Is this your first time?”

 

Anger quickly replaced her sudden modesty, as he kicked him in the chest. “Asshole!” she exclaimed. “I’ve done it plenty of times.” Seeing him nod in understanding, she kicked him again. Pressing her foot down on his chest, she caused him to sink deep into the mattress. “And before you ask, I’ve done it with men before too!”

 

She was careful not to bruise him, but Usho was still having more difficulty breathing than he would like.  Between strained breaths, he wheezed, “I was actually going to say…” he gasped, “…that this is probably your first time doing it without any clothes on!”

 

Seeing the sudden shame on her face, and the way the pressure on his chest slackened, he knew he hit the mark. Given the lack of privacy on the lower levels, complete nudity was often a rarity in normal sexual relationships. Even the communal bathhouses were far too public a venue for all but the most adventurous couples, and they’d receive stern reprimands from the Regulators afterwards. Usually trysts were rushed affairs done in some private corner of the city, trousers hiked down followed by fifteen minutes of grunting. Usho detested it.

 

This was going to be Ishara’s first time fully exposed to a partner. Given her muscular physique and her many scars, she wanted it to be with someone who wouldn’t be allowed to reject her.

 

The problem was that it wasn’t just her body that was naked for him. Looking up at her eyes, he saw a storm of roiling emotions. She may not have wanted to be loved; but she genuinely wanted to be wanted. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in the same whining tone he would use if they were arguing over the way she split money. “If you want to call this whole thing off, fine, but did you have to get me so hot and bothered in the first place?”

 

That did the trick. She looked down past her leg, and chuckled when she saw that he was still hard. It didn’t take much effort for Usho to keep his member at attention anymore, perhaps a side effect of the aphrodisiac Ishara kept giving him.  It had the desired effect, however, as her foot finally slipped off his chest and brushed against the side of his shaft.

 

The uncertainty faded from her eyes, and she chuckled. “You know, I know a lot of people who would pay good glots for a masochist. If you could keep it up after all that, maybe I’m just not getting my money’s worth.” Her tone was playful, but Usho still gulped.

 

“But,” she continued, “it would be way too much trouble to make sure they didn’t leave any scars.” All hesitation gone, she undid the bindings around her chest, exposing large brown breasts and dark nipples to the warm air. Usho reached up towards them, before she smiled and locked his hands in a strong grip. “Down, boy. I’m still in charge here.” Her voice was smooth, and as she stuck out her breasts proudly, it was clear to him that she wanted her opportunity to be seductive.  She stepped back, her leg sliding smoothly against him before she departed, and whispered, “Just watch me.”

 

Her hands slid against her hips, pulling her underwear further down her waist before she brought it back up again. Usho was able to keep his face frozen in a combination of awe and genuine arousal, successfully suppressing a chuckle. It seemed that Ishara wanted to perform a striptease with the only article of clothing she had left.

 

While one hand rubbed circles around her peaked nipples, the other slid beneath the front of her thong and explored her depths. She stared at him with half lidded eyes and moaned as she rubbed herself down. “Do you like what you see?” she breathed.

 

Usho nodded, with absolute sincerity. She smiled brightly at the praise, her fingers quickening their pace as her moans and gasps became more pronounced. “Do you want to touch yourself too, Usho?”

 

Usho grinned back, “I’d rather touch you”

 

The response went over well. Eyes lighting up, she continued her line of questions as she masturbated. “Do you like me? Do you like me better than the horny cunts that line up to fuck you?”

 

Nodding eagerly, he told her what she needed to hear. “You’re better than all of them.” It helped that right now, other women were very far from his mind. Usho licked his dry lips, frustrated that things weren’t proceeding faster. His cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

 

She topped touching herself and licked the wetness around her fingers, as her hands cupped her breasts. “What part do you like best? My tits?” She bent towards him, her bosom jiggling enticingly, before she turned around and extended her behind. Her hands pulled down the thong partway, fully exposing a well-toned and muscular backside. “My ass?” Her head turned back to look at him, grinning invitingly.

 

It was a struggle for Usho to come up with the words, his pulse pounding. Still, he was able to muster an honest response. “I like your smile best,” he said with confidence.

 

She looked at him in mock outrage. “My teeth? You really have some sick fetishes.” She bent down and laughed, “No wonder you’re so good at being a whore!”

Usho thought it was a very good laugh, given the way it made her body tremble enticingly.

 

With their familiar banter reasserting itself, Usho was able to respond with some cool. “I think I’d need to see every inch of you, before I can decide what my favorite part is.”

 

She pulled her thong up again, causing Usho to curse internally, and turned around to face him. She said in a playful purr, “You’re talking to me like one of your whores, Usho,” as she slid a hand beneath the garment and between her legs.

 

Momentarily taking his eyes off her body, he realized her slip. “No, remember? I’m the whore.”

 

It seemed that she was surprised when she realized her mistake as well. For a moment her eyes lost their predatory gleam, and became vulnerable again. She looked off the side, her fingers still working herself at furious pace, before she spoke urgently. “Maybe right now, I’m your whore instead. Do you like that Usho?” Her eyes met his, hungry and needing again, as eager for validation as she was for release. “Call me a whore, Usho.”

 

A more rational part of his mind understood that he had just wandered into a very strange place in his relationship with her, but he was too lost to care. He got off the bed and stood close enough that she could feel his breath. She looked up as she touched herself, regarding him with wide eyes, and given that she didn’t push him back down it was apparent that she was also completely lost in the moment.

 

Reaching down he simply ripped the thong right off of her, the material tearing loudly, before he gave her rump a solid slap. “You,” he breathed in her ear, “are a FUCKING whore.”

 

She shuddered as her legs gave out, her body falling forward on top off his. Slowing their mutual fall with his hands, he felt her climax on top of him, her juices pooling between her now naked thighs as she straddled one of Usho’s legs.

 

Just being allowed to be in contact with her felt amazing. She was panting as she rubbed her breasts, head rolled back. She gasped, “I’m your whore. I’m your whore,” several times as Usho helped pulled her further up. Sitting just above his groin, she took a moment to catch her breath as she stared into has face. Usho let out small gasps as her firm rear rubbed against his neglected pole.

 

“Hey Usho,” she leaned forward, looking down at him with a smoldering gaze and a quivering smile. “I changed my mind. You can kiss me.”

 

Shifting his weight, Usho pulled his back up to meet her face, and gave her a searing kiss. As their tongues explored one another, he bent further towards her and pushed her hips back, bringing them together for the first time. The kiss was broken periodically as they ground against each other, pausing briefly to gasp out to one another that Ishara was a whore, that Usho was a whore, that they were both whores, and that they were both each other’s whores.

 

Usho felt himself about to finish first, and pushed her back roughly off of him. She cooed in disappointment and need, hardly articulate enough to voice her displeasure, before he brought her into a missionary position and fucked her urgently. As he climaxed inside her she clawed at his back with her nails as her walls tightened around, the sensation of being filled bringing about her own release.

 

She sighed in pleasure as he softened inside her. As he moved to pull out, she pulled him back down and kissed him again. When it was finally broken, she began to speak.

 

“Okay. I’m the pimp again, and you’re the whore. What happened just now, it was very strange. And unless we ignore it, it’s going to make things very, very complicated for both of us.” Nodding his head in agreement Usho moved to pull out, before her legs tightened around him, keeping him inside her.

 

“But,” she continued, “we’re also partners. I was forgetting that. I am still going to take a pretty big cut. I want better for both of us, and that means we need more people working for us. But,” she gave him that smile again, “you’re very good at what you do, so I am giving you a raise.”

 

Finally letting him pull out, she got up again, and laid out a large pile of shining glass beads on the table. “Consider this back pay.” Suddenly she frowned, and took a large fistful back. About to protest, Ishara raised a hand and held up the underwear he tore. “You’re still paying for this, though.”

 

Wincing, Usho could only nod his head in acceptance. He gathered up the glots, and the trousers and shirt he left in the corner of the room. The two of them were finally off the clock, as they wordlessly on their clothes. It reminded Usho of the times before his demotion to the Lumpen caste, when the other shift workers would gather up their tools and walk out of the building laughing. Feeling a bit cheeky after causing his pimp to lose all her composure earlier, he gave Ishara a hearty pat on the back and said “See you for tomorrow’s shift, comrade!”

 

The woman only rolled her eyes. “I’m walking you back to your barracks.”

 

Chuckling, he said, “And how about a good night kiss when we finally depart?”

 

The joke did not go over well. Scowling bitterly, she made her intentions clear. “You’re carrying too many glots right now and I don’t want anyone slitting your throat. The other Lumpen will think you’re putting on airs.”

 

Usho was startled. Having something worth robbing was a new experience for him. He nodded grimly, as Ishara removed the truncheon from her belt, which glowed with an electric crackle.

 

As they stepped outside, however, a sleek black vehicle suddenly roared towards the both of them before stopping just a few feet in front of the dumbfounded pair. This wasn’t one of the clunky freight haulers that transported the many weapons made in the forges out towards the warehouses. Made of polished steel and black jade, it hovered over the ground, its essence engines roaring to keep it aloft. It was a sleek and swift transport that was meant to carry only a handful of very important people.

 

Ishara muttered lowly towards him, “It’s a shaft speeder. Used to pilot a few of them when I was out fighting in the Reaches.”

 

Wondering briefly about his partner’s history, the engines suddenly died as one of the transport’s doors opened. Out stepped two Regulators, wielding crossbows in their hands. A loud voice blared from the cockpit, telling the curious crowd to disperse immediately and resume their normal business. And given that there was a set of cameras on top of the vehicle that scanned the crowd, the locals were quick to comply. If anyone’s lack of compliance were to be recorded, they’d be stuck with a demerit and possibly extra shifts as a punitive measure.

 

As Ishara and Usho exchanged nods, and decided that they should also vacate the area, the two Regulators descended upon them. In clipped tones, they simply said, “Citizens. Your presence is required by the state.”

 

Usho muttered at Ishara, “What did you do?” The woman only punched his arm and whispered back, “Don’t be stupid. They wouldn’t send a speeder after us if it were just about me pimping you out to randy factory workers.”

 

While the two of them argued, the regulators wasted no time, and they roughly grabbed his arms, placing a pair of manacles around his arms that were bound together by a strong and inflexible cord.

 

Usho resisted, more out of panic than defiance. “W-wait! I didn’t do anything!” For his trouble he received a swift blow to the gut that caused him to double over. Meanwhile Ishara simply held out her hands and stood very still.

 

The two of them were brought into the speeder, and Usho paused to gaze in awe at the vehicle’s interior before the Regulator behind him shoved him further. He fell over, into the softest black leather seat he’d ever felt. Its floor was covered in soft red carpeting, and small fans on the roof exuded a cool, sweet smelling breeze that was a stunning contrast to the heat and stink of the air outside. As Ishara sat down beside him, the speeder began to soar up into the air.

 

Seated opposite to them was a bald man in white robes with a golden trim. On his brow stood a bright purple soulgem, which was surrounded by a series of intricate cog shaped tattoos. It was clear to Usho that this man was clearly a very important member of the city’s Sodalities. Next to him was seated a less ostentatiously dressed young woman. She wore a simple white toga, and a few modest articles of jewelry that adorned neck and ears, along with a pair of elegant spectacles. Her soulgem was orange, marking her as one of the city’s Plutarchs.

 

The old man held a scented kerchief near his nose and looked away, as though he found the sight of the two of them distasteful. Usho gave him a resentful glance, before the young woman gave a quiet cough. Smilingly pleasantly at the two of them, she said, “Usho. It’s very nice to see you again.”

 

Very briefly, Ishara stomped down on Usho’s foot. It was now clear that this entire incident was his fault. Giving the Plutarch a stiff grin that was drawn from a combination of fear and suppressed pain, he said in a saccharine sweet voice, “Have we met?”

 

The woman covered her mouth and gave a low laugh. “You’d probably remember me with a black soulgem. And with a lot more dirt and oil on me.” Her face flushed slightly as she glanced down, “And without any clothes on.”

 

His eyes widening, he finally recognized the woman’s voice. It certainly explained why she didn’t sound anything like the factory workers he usually served. After a few seconds of wracking his brain, he was also able to recall her name. “Gasi!”

 

Her red lips curled into a smile, and she nodded modestly. The woman was certainly more prim and proper than their first meeting, when she couldn’t wait to drag him inside the tent. Still, Usho smiled back, with most of it having to do with genuine relief rather than pleasure at their strange reunion. Given the circumstances, it was clear that he was not being arrested for any sort of crime.

 

Ishara looked in displeasure at the smiling pair, before adopting the businesslike demeanor Usho saw her use with so many prospective clients. “If you think he’s a whore fit for a Plutarch, then he ought to be treated as such. I’m more than willing to give you the contract I have with him, so long as I receive due compensation.”

 

Gasi’s face flushed a deep red as she slipped a hand over her mouth. But in spite of her continued attempts at putting forward a modest front, she was gazing at Usho with the same blazing eyes that she had when she first saw his cock.

 

It was the old man who ruined the moment swiftly, as he slammed a fist against the door. “She is not the glass-whore’s client,” he said brusquely.

 

Usho gulped, while Ishara didn’t miss a beat. “While he isn’t as practiced with men, he-“

 

The old man merely slammed his fist against the door again, face red, before suddenly falling into a coughing fit. Gasi patted his back, and said, “High Luminor! High Luminor, are you all right?” She handed him a glass of water, which the old man drank eagerly. Both Ishara and Usho exchanged worried looks. A head of a Sodality having an interest in them was a dangerous thing.

 

When the Luminor’s coughing fit subsided, it was Gasi who resumed the conversation. “Neither of us are the client. Usho, we need you to be the personal companion of the Archon Shining Spark of Devotion, Blessed of Noi, the Shining Bodhisattva of Arat.”

 

The words were so ridiculous that they didn’t even register with Usho, who could only fix Gasi with a flat stare. Ishara, on the other hand, was much more afraid. “The Orichalcum Golem,” she pronounced flatly.

 

“I…” Gasi simply nodded, “yes, but I wouldn’t use that name with her.” Looking between the two women, Usho had to wonder just what in the Void was going on.

 

Gasi continued. “It has been concluded, by unanimous vote of the Council, that the Shining Spark of Devotion is to use up the vacation time that she had foregone for the last forty years of her service. Whether she likes it or not.”

 

Explaining the situation to him, Usho buried his head in his hands. For some horrible reason, Arat’s elite demanded that he win the heart of a now nearly sociopathic death machine that happened to be in the approximate shape of a woman.

 

“Surely,” Usho said, “you could have chosen better alternatives? One of the city’s other Exalted Champions, or even just a more prominent and experienced glass-whore?”

 

The High Luminor lacked even a single mote of compassion in his voice. “We have considered alternate possibilities. Another Champion is entirely unsuitable: proximity to her own kind would only reinforce her condition. It must be a mortal who can derail her ascent towards enlightenment. And while we have considered alternative mortals, you are ideal in many respects. While the Shining Spark’s sexual appetite’s varied considerably among her previous lives, her soul consistently retained a fondness for the male gender regardless of the body it was incarnated in.”

 

Taking another sip from the cool glass, he continued. “Your low circumstances are an advantage, for our purposes. You lack any connections amongst the more influential of Arat’s citizenry. They’ll go out of their way to avoid you, which means there is little risk of you being inducted into our conspiracy. And, lastly,” and at this point the Luminor’s voice became more animated, his lips curling into the ghost of a smile, “it seems several of your prior incarnations interacted with those of the Shining Spark.”

 

Pulling out a set of very old scrolls, he nodded as he scanned them. “In at least one prior life, your incarnations were involved in a very torrid love affair.”

 

This was news to Usho. The Luminors demanded a steep price before they’d reveal the details of a citizen’s past lives. “That’s heartening?” Usho said hopefully.

 

The old man sneered. “Aside from the murder-suicide that ended the relationship, yes. Still, you are a very compatible pair of souls.”

 

Usho grew very pale, as a cold sweat ran down his brow. Ishara lightly placed a hand on his back, hoping to steady him. For a moment the old man hesitated, showing the smallest vestige of sympathy, and said softly, “Of course, to refuse the state is treason. But I understand that the situation is intimidating. We ask that you simply make the attempt. If you should make a sincere effort and still fail, the state is more than willing to compensate you generously for your time. If you succeed, you’ll not want for anything in this life. Or the next life.”

 

That certainly got Usho’s attention. The old man nodded, managing in his own way to seduce Usho better than the best of Arat’s prostitutes. “The Luminors can see to it that your next life will be spent as a man… or woman if you prefer… of any caste of your choosing. Even in the Sodalities, Usho. We’ll make sure that you can have your pick of lives.”

 

Usho looked up at the three people surrounding him. Gasi’s face was bent down, her lips moving in a silent prayer to whatever Divine Minister was listening that he’d accept. The High Luminor simply looked down at him with absolute confidence, assured of his cooperation. Ishara was simply afraid for him.

 

While his greed wrestled with his fear, in the end he had absolutely no choice but to comply anyways. He simply nodded sadly at his partner.

 

The transaction was quick, and Usho gave a small gasp as he saw that he was worth quite a bit in the state’s eyes. Ishara would be able to employ scores of people looking to be glass-whores, and buy out a small building for their use. She smiled to him as she saw the sum, before abruptly looking away. Usho caught a slight hint of budding tears at the corner of her eyes.

 

The High Luminor clapped his hands, and the speeder descended down on the roof of one of Arat’s buildings. The two regulators undid the manacles around Usho and Ishara, before reaching out to help the frail Luminor to exit the transport. Rather than follow him immediately, Ishara suddenly pulled Usho into a very hard kiss. He returned it without hesitation, and they would have bruised one another’s lips if she didn’t pull back. A small trickle of tears fell down her cheeks, but she still smiled at him.

 

She let out something between a sob and a chuckle. “Hey, Usho. I guess I’m not your pimp anymore. So if I find you again,” she stopped to kiss his brow, “it might be okay for us to be in love.”

 

While Usho sat stunned at her confession, she swiftly turned her head and dove out of the door before he could stop her. As the door shut behind her, she didn’t look back.

 

It was only Usho and Gasi now in the rear of the speeder, with the pilot firmly ensconced in an isolated cockpit. As the speeder ascended in the air again, Gasi moved to sit beside him.

 

“Usho. I’m so sorry.” There was genuine pity in her voice, and Usho was grateful for her compassion. She placed a delicate hand over his chest, just above his heart. “I wouldn’t have suggested your name at all if I knew you loved her.” She meant it, too, and Usho suddenly decided to kiss her hand.

 

He smiled to reassure her. “Our relationship was complicated. We could never be lovers until we stopped being business associates. So,” and he smiled with more sincerity, “as soon as I resolve accounts with the state, I’ll come back with enough glots that neither of us will ever need to work again.”

 

The response delighted Gasi. She pressed against him in a hug, and Usho enjoyed the feeling of her soft breasts pressing against him. “I’m certain I made the right choi-“ the rest of her speech was cut off as the transport suddenly took a sharp turn, causing them both to fall to the floor. They shouted in surprise, ending up in a mess of tangled limbs. As Usho tried to extricate himself, Gasi’s toga became hiked up high, and he was able to see that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments.

 

Usho only let out a soft whistle. “I suppose you were planning on being alone with me for a little while?”

 

Seeing that she was caught, Gasi only spread her legs and hiked up her dress further. All her previous propriety was gone, and she traced the outside of her sex with a forefinger.  “You have to understand, Usho, I don’t usually behave like this. But I almost never get to ride these.” She let the hem of her toga fall back down, as she pressed herself against him, their bodies grinding together through their clothes. She gasped appreciatively as she felt his member stiffen beneath his pants.

 

Usho was silent as Gasi writhed against him. “The leather’s so soft and smooth. Feel it,” she moaned, as her sex pressed hard on his stiffening rod while she brought one of his bare hands against the seat. “So soft and smooth. So very cool to the touch. The first time I flew on these, I never felt anything like it before. It felt like such a waste to only feel it through so many clothes. I kept on rubbing it with the back of my legs and my hands.”

 

She licked his face as she unbuttoned his shirt, her glasses hanging slightly askew. As his chest lay bare, she let her hands rub against his chest. “I had to feel more of it against me. I wanted to be naked as I lay on it.” She pulled the top of her toga down beneath her bust, and rubbed stiff nipples against his chest.

 

“I felt so naughty. I kept on thinking, while I rubbed myself against the leather, what it would be like to have you fuck me against it? Do you want to know what it feels like, Usho? Do you want to be naked on the leather with me?”

 

He could only answer with a heartfelt, “Oh Void, yes.” She’d never forgive him if Usho said no, and given how hard his erection strained against his pants he’d never forgive himself either if he missed this opportunity.

 

Usho kicked off his boots with practiced speed, while Gasi roughly pulled down his trousers. She couldn’t wait long enough to finish the job, leaving his pants pooled around his knees as her rouge stained lips left streaks of red after kissing and suckling his tool. While he strained to finish pulling off his pants the transport would bob and lurch slightly, causing her mouth to sink all the way down to the base of his shaft. The feeling was wonderful for Usho. His clients almost never bothered with fellatio, and the swaying of the speeder caused the tingling sensation to radiate all the way down his legs.

 

After a brief but very pleasant struggle to slip all the way out of his pants, he decided to let his hands occupy themselves with more important matters. He sat up and reluctantly pulled his member out of her soft mouth, hearing her coo in mild protest. With some effort he pulled himself off the soft red carpet and brought his naked body on top of the leather. He’d never felt anything like it, and groaned in satisfaction as he sunk down into the cushions. Gasi stood up after him, having a little trouble maintaining her balance, and pushed him down chest first against the seat, his stiff cock pressed down against the leather.

 

She whispered to him as she rubbed the small of his back and buttocks. “Feel it, Usho. Isn’t it the best?” He turned his head to the side and saw Gasi put aside her glasses, kick off her sandals and pull down the rest of her toga, leaving her clad in only a few pieces of jewelry and ruined makeup. She brought her knees against the soft cushion to steady herself, and began to massage him. For a while Usho simply laid there, reveling in sensations he was never allowed to have before, before his eyes widened in shock.

 

He felt Gasi part the two halves of his behind, before her tongue traced a rough line down his crack. He moaned as he practically humped the seat beneath him. As embarrassing as it was, he enjoyed this very much. When she finally ceased Usho heard her tongue click against the roof of her mouth, plainly not minding the taste.

 

He turned on his back, his member leaking a bit of pre-cum, and saw the previously shy and demure bureaucrat lick her lips like a wanton slut. Given the way Usho lightly stroked his own shaft as he gazed at her, he imagined he also looked every inch the horny little glass-whore.

 

Usho pounced on her, sandwiching her between the leather and his body. “That,” he breathed as his lips ruined more of her makeup, “was absolutely wonderful.” He brought a pair of fingers inside her snatch, as her backside slid against the cushion. She was sodden, and her breath was hot and as his fingers pumped inside her. Bringing his face only a few inches away from her, he breathed, “You deserve a reward.”

 

While one hand’s digits fucked her at a steady pace, another hand reached into an ice chest. Before Usho’s demotion in Caste, he was the shift chief of a small group of workers one of the slaughterhouse districts. While it wasn’t something he could put into practice amongst the forges, he was able to learn that ice had a good deal of potential uses.

 

Cupping a small cube of ice between his fingers, he traced cold lines down Gasi’s delicate breasts as his fingers worked her over. Her eyes closed she cried out in pleasure, the many contrasting sensations leaving her overwhelmed. When the cube finally melted against the growing heat of her body, he simply brought out another one, this time rubbing against her stiff nipples. He began to quicken his pace, letting another finger enter her as his tongue began to lap away at the ice water staining her tits. Her felt her sex tighten around his hand, and her nipple contract between his lips as she orgasmed.

 

Her eyes opened again as the pace of his fingers slowed. She gave a sultry smile as she grabbed his wrist and pulled his fingers outside of her. Rather than guide his hand towards his lips, as some of his clients preferred, she had it rub against the leather between her thighs. Soon it was stained with her sexual fuids, and when she finally caught enough of her breath to speak again she gave him another request. “Lick it off, Usho. I want to see you taste the leather and taste me.”

 

Usho would have done anything for her at the moment, and couldn’t keep from stroking his shaft as he tasted both her sweetness and felt the smoothness of the seat’s material on his tongue. It took all of his self-control not to simply bring himself to an orgasm right there.

 

“Oh, good boy,” Gasi petted his head approvingly. Splaying her legs wide, she pushed her breasts out. “You’ve been holding back too long for me,” she said in sympathy. “You deserve a reward too. I want you to cum all over me and on the cushions. I’ll lick it all off for you, Usho.”

 

He was sorely tempted, his balls feeling very tight, but he held back. “Not just yet,” he grinned, before taking out another cube of ice. Making sure she could see him hold it before her, she was curious about what he was going to do next. She gave a sudden start as he pushed the cube inside her depths, her legs kicking wildly while back arched.

 

Usho squeezed her legs shut to keep the ice inside of her, and brought another cube out and traced a line along her areola. “If you can hold two more of these inside yourself, I’ll give you another reward.”

 

Gasi tried to voice her assent, but all that would come out were gasps and squeaks as her legs shook. She settled for nodding her head vigorously. Smiling triumphantly, he split her legs again and pushed in the second cube. Gasi could only let out gasps as another was forced inside her, ice water and her arousal staining the seat. When it was time for the last block of ice, Usho simply held it on his tongue as he kissed her passionately. The cube began to slip between their mouths, before Usho finally pulled it back between his lips. He gave her lower lips the exact same kiss, pushing the last one inside with his tongue.

 

She clenched her thighs together, unwilling to let even a single shard of ice slip out of her, as she looked at him with adoration. “Give it,” she gasped, barely articulate. “Give my reward.”

 

Satisfied that the ice had mostly melted inside of her, Usho pulled her knees apart and plunged inside her. Her sex was cold, but Usho took care to not let it get numb. He wanted to her to feel every moment of this. As she squealed and writhed beneath him, Usho nonchalantly reached into the ice chest and pulled out a bottle of wine.

 

Uncorking it with his teeth, he pulled up her chin up and simply said, “Drink.”  Slowly he tipped over the bottle, letting it fall onto her face and allowing whatever her tongue didn’t lap up fall between the two of them.

 

It was too much for stimulation for Gasi to bear. Her back and rump glided against the leather, while Usho’s cock inside her both pleasured her and warmed her again.  The cold wine was sweet in her mouth and cool on her breasts, and as the bottle emptied Usho started to lap up everything her mouth couldn’t catch while still thrusting inside her furiously. Her eyes rolled back as she tried to catch the drink on her extended tongue, panting wildly in arousal.

 

It was too much, she thought again, before her mind went blank and she fell on her side. Usho pulled out just before her own release, letting his semen stain her body along with what remained of the wine. As Gasi laid back in post coital bliss and brought some of it to her lips, she could only conclude that both flavors were quite good.

 

She gazed up at Usho, satisfaction evident in her eyes. “Well. That’s one fantasy fulfilled.”

 

They both laughed as they relaxed, too exhausted to do much of anything else right now beyond talk. Usho took out a glass of water to ease his parched throat, before gazing down at her with serious eyes. “So. What can I expect from the Orichalcum Golem?”

 

Ishara got off her side, looking down at the various stains they left behind in the speeder. She had to get that cleaned off before they made their landing, or else there would be pointed questions for her when the High Luminor got his shaft speeder back. Usho had to repeat the question for her to shake her from her concern.

 

“Oh. Ah, first, don’t call her the Golem. She may not mind, but you should not be in the habit of disparaging Arat’s most esteemed Champion.” Gathering some towels to clean herself off, she found beneath it a large bottle of cleaning solution. This certainly met her needs, but it raised a question about the High Luminor’s same sexual activities in the transport. Shuddering to herself, she turned to Usho. “You’ve seen the posters, haven’t you?”

 

Usho remembered the posters. It was a very common practice in the Eight Nations to employ the Machine God’s Chosen as subjects of propaganda material. He remembered the times he spent gazing in wonder at the posters during his childhood. They had names like Watchful Eyes of Justice, Inevitable March of Iron Shod Boots, Empathy’s Scion, or Clockwork and Brass Darkness. The Shining Spark of Devotion was displayed very prominently, her image constantly exhorting the Populat to greater labor and further heights of devotion.

 

Her history was a matter of public record, and was frequently employed in children’s songs, short novels, and small toys. The picture the stories painted portrayed her as an unflinching crusader of the state and ardent follower of Autochthon’s wisdom. There was the border war with Estasia that saw her bring down one of their War Zeppelins onto their command staff. There was her famous three-day duel with the Apostate Bitter Gear Harvest. During the Black Shift, one of Arat’s worst industrial accidents, she was able to singlehandedly avert a catastrophic burst of essence that would have destroyed an entire district. She was one of the most influential masters of hand-to-hand combat alive today, with Champions from neighboring nations constantly petitioned to study under her.

 

She was also known as the bane of all the city’s glot bosses, rooting out corruption without mercy. The list of her great deeds went on and on, but Usho felt the most interesting one was where some of Arat’s female glass-whores would paint their skin gold and wear masks in her likeness to please their clients.

 

Still, Usho wasn’t satisfied with a general history. “From what I understand, the propaganda didn’t paint a very complete picture of her.”

 

Gasi handed Usho a cloth stained in more cleaning solution, which he took gratefully. Pursing her lips, as she cleaned her face of cosmetics, she said hesitantly, “I take the minutes when the Tripartite Council meets. I do my best to remain unobtrusive, but I’ve still heard a lot of very sensitive things. The Shining Spark of Devotion is a common source of complaint.”

 

She continued, “She’s not a total machine yet. She still has passions, of a sort. She bears an intense hatred of Claslat’s glass market, and used her influence to push Theomachracy policy further against it.”

 

Usho’s frowned. The Eight Nations didn’t bear change well, and while Claslat’s glass market remained unregulated for three hundred years, that was nothing to five millennia of religious tradition in the oldest of all Eight Nations. He remembered that Arat’s Theomachracy would constantly distribute leaflets exhorting citizens to shun, or at least moderate, the various temptations the glots offered. It never managed to gain much traction with the Populat: to them it was harmless fun, and their productivity didn’t suffer.

 

“Anyways,” Gasi said, “it really came to a head when she started investigating the Olgatory over their involvement with the glass market, with the Theomachracy’s backing. So of course, that set two thirds of the city’s ruling body against each other.”

 

Usho raised an eyebrow. “That sounds bad, certainly, but nothing she did sounds particularly mentally ill.”

 

“I’m getting to that part,” Gasi said testily, grateful that the wine stains were the same shade of red as the carpet. “It all went really wrong when she took matters into her own hands and started to attack some of the more prominent glass merchants. As far as the law was concerned the merchants were law-abiding citizens, with the only evidence of wrongdoing being the esteemed Champion’s words. She also knew full well that the Regulators were conducting their own investigations into the merchants, but she interfered anyways. She said they weren’t doing enough, that she’d see the whole market closed, and she’d see anyone in league with them thrown out of Arat and left to fend for themselves in the wastes. No matter how highly placed they were.”

 

“I imagine the last part raised some eyebrows.” His tone was dull, and flat. Usho absolutely did not relish the possibility of having sex with her.

 

“You have to understand Usho, while the glass market trades in goods and services that the state’s religious wing would rather outright forbid, the truth is that it’s been a boon for Claslat. People are willing to work very hard in exchange for the extra perks the glots can get them. Perks like you, for instance,” she teased softly as she slowly redid her hair to be presentable.

 

“In other words, pretty much everyone in the Olgatory’s upper ranks is involved in illicit activity in the Glass Market.”

 

Chuckling, she dusted off her discarded toga. “Comparatively speaking, wearing a fake soulgem to cavort with prostitutes is a very minor indiscretion. So Usho, most of the Champions are willing to understand what’s going on, and look the other way. The disruption caused by closing the glass-market and bringing most of the Olgatory on charges would doom productivity. The Shining Spark,” she sighed as she handed Usho back his clothes, “is no longer mentally capable of making such a compromise. She feels no concern whatsoever at the troubles she’ll bring to the Populat, so long as Claslat stays firmly on the righteous path established by the Great Maker. Without even the slightest deviation.”

 

Pulling on his trousers, Usho sighed. “So the state expects me to help her climax her way back to empathy.”

 

Gasi took his joke seriously, and simply frowned and shook her head. “Not at all. This isn’t about sex, Usho. Right now, this is about love. She needs to be taught to care about every cog in the machine. Although,” she added quietly, “she is perfectly akin to a normal human when it comes to carnal acts, and I would not be at all jealous if it were to come to that.” She glanced at his face and then looked back out the window, “I mean, if that is a cause for concern for you.”

 

Usho couldn’t begin to respond to that. Instead, he returned the conversation to the Shining Spark. “So, how is this going to work? I can’t imagine a Champion would have the same physical needs as a mere mortal.”

 

“Oh!” Gasi laughed quietly, and sat like a gossip with the latest scandal.  “They’re quite like us in that regard. The various escapades some of them engage in are never committed to paper. Though,” she said as Usho helped her put her clothes back on, “the Shining Spark may not be at all receptive to your advances. Which is why you aren’t here as her whore, Usho.”

 

Usho blinked. That was news to him. “Then, what am I, precisely?”

 

“Her attendant. Champions do have servants, you know, and need to unwind. Her… difficult… personality drove away most of her household, which means that you’ll be the only one attending to her at the moment. And that,” she said as she pecked his cheek, “will give you an excellent opportunity to get close to her.”

 

“I’m the only servant there, then?”

 

“Did I forget to mention?” She brought his hand up between her naked thighs. “I will also be assisting you with her. Most of this was my idea, after all.”

 

As his fingers explored inside her, the speeder finally made its descent on the peak of one of Arat’s tallest towers. As Usho moved to pull his hand out from under her dress, she merely growled and trapped him between her legs. It was only when the pilot opened the speeder’s door that she finally let him escape, placing her spectacles atop her nose and resuming a posture of unassuming innocence as she stepped outside. From behind though, Usho saw her lift up the back of her skirt, giving him one last look at her shapely bottom.

 

If he didn’t end up dying at the hands of Arat’s most revered Champion, then it was likely that Gasi’s libido would be what ended his life.

 

---

Looking past the railings at the side of the roof, Usho ground his teeth. He’d never been up this high before, and decided that he could have done without this particular form of upward mobility. The view looking down from up top was entirely different from when he was gazing up. Aside from the doubtlessly fatal drop that would occur if he fell from the tower, his view of the dingy streets and the sea of downtrodden members of the Populat shuffling down below did little to capture his imagination. He decided, all things considered, that he’d do his best not to look down.

 

He suddenly heard Gasi snicker behind him as she pushed him forward. “The rails are quite solid, Usho. There’s no need to look so pale.”

 

Sighing to himself, he walked beside Gasi along the roof of the tower. He didn’t know whether he preferred to take his chances with the drop or with the Alchemical Exalt that awaited the both of them. Gasi held in her hand a small travel case, though what was inside it Usho could only wonder. He himself did not have the opportunity to bring any personal effects with him, though Gasi assured him that he’d be provided clean uniforms there.

 

Behind them the shaft speeder kicked up dust and hot air, with the motes of essence emitted by the engines giving the air an unpleasant crackle.  As it flew away, Usho couldn’t help but mutter “No escape now.” She lightly swatted his arm, but gave a small smile from the corner of her mouth.

 

Then she suddenly halted, her smile replaced by an expression of awe. When he saw what caught her attention, he was also entranced.

 

The propaganda posters did no justice to the Shining Spark of Devotion. She was a metal woman born of pure imagination and years of tireless work, with every inch of her both beautiful and profoundly alien. Her face was a brilliant gold that reflected the lights of the city, and when she stepped out into the light her shining skin caused spots to appear in Usho’s eyes. Her eyes were beautiful even though her sockets were empty, save for a pair of radiating white spheres that reminded Usho of the lightning storms that occasionally surged into the city. Her flawless white hair stood much too straight and periodically shined in a series of rainbow hues, before Usho realized that those were wires coming out of her scalp. On her brow, a blood red soulgem shone like fire.

 

Gazing down at the rest of her, Usho could see that her proportions were not something a mere human womb could create. She stood well over six feet tall, looming down over Usho and Gasi. As she stepped towards them he could see that while her body was lithe her every movement radiated power. Her steel muscles, while compact and lithe, could also generate much more power than flesh could ever hope to.

 

For such a profoundly unique creature her clothing was drab and plain. She wore an undecorated multilayered brown robe, with a cowl pulled back behind her head. The only acknowledgment of her station being the gold filigree on its back that marked her as an Exalted Champion. Her clothing was conservative in the extreme, concealing all of the remaining mysteries of her body. He could see hints of perfectly proportioned breasts and flared hips beneath the layers of clothes, but also far more unnatural and out of place bulges that indicated a host of augmentations installed into her body.

 

Usho realized that was looking everywhere except for her face. Somehow, it was her expression that was the most unnatural. Likening it to one of Arat’s statues was a deep disservice to the city’s sculptors, as even their art was able to convey deep levels of emotion. It was not that she was ugly: her facial proportions were perfect, and even contained a degree of asymmetry that truly made her face beautiful, rather than simply uncanny.  

 

The issue was that her face was devoid of expression, frozen a perfect mask of stoic impassiveness. It reminded Usho of the slaves of the city, who were forcibly stripped of emotion and higher cognition after the removal of their soulgems. What made her even more frightening was that unlike the slaves of the city, Shining Spark was clearly intelligent. She gazed down at the two of them dispassionately, like a craftsman disassembling a defective crossbow.

 

Somehow, Usho was expected to have sex with that. It was almost too much to bear.

 

“Your response time is lacking,” spoke the Alchemical. Usho blinked. While her voice was utterly dispassionate, she otherwise sounded like a perfectly normal woman rather than the harsh robotic trill of the city’s ministerial subroutines.

 

Realizing that Gasi just nudged him, Usho gave her a formal bow. “My lady. The state has given us the privilege of serving you to the best of our humble abilities.”

 

The Spark’s response was not what he expected. “Incorrect. The state has assigned you to monitor my behavior and to keep me under supervision.” She turned around and began to descend the staircase leading down from the building’s roof. After concerned looks with one another the two mortals followed after her.

 

“I will not impede your duties,” the Spark continued, as her feet echoed off the stairs. Looking down behind her, Usho could see that her feet beneath the robes were totally bare. “To impede your duties would be treason against the state.”

 

Her head wheeled back on her shoulders, turning a hundred and eighty degrees. Usho gave a sudden start, and would have fallen down the entire flight of stairs if Gasi didn’t catch him. Shining Spark didn’t evince even the least concern, and was able to navigate the stairs easily in spite of the fact that her gaze was now fixed behind rather than forward.

 

“With that said, I have tasks for you both in mind on top of your regular duties.”

 

Before Usho could ask what she had meant by that, the Spark turned her head forward again and opened one of the doors leading out of the winding staircase. “Whatever purpose the state may have in assigning the both of you as my servants, it does nothing to change the fact that the state has assigned you both as my servants. As such, I expect you to comport yourselves properly as members of my household. You will maintain my home for the duration of my arrest, and serve my needs.”