Foreign Exchange (The Concubine Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

There was laughter, some applause.  Then the Eraath threw a bun at her.  Liera tried to grab it, but Tsui was quicker, grabbing it before Liera could get it.  "Up," she said.  "Knees."

It was one of the sticky buns, with sugar on top, and a date-honey and fruit jam filling.  Liera went up on her knees.  Tsui tilted Liera's head up for her, and balanced the bun on the top of her nose, and on her forehead.

"And if you keep it there," said Tsui, "Perhaps you shall be allowed to eat it later."

"Tsk," said Jalah.  "The Eraath would be better advised to throw turnips at girls like that.  Or perhaps a cabbage."

It was sticky, and it was . . . it was balanced at the top of her nose, and on her forehead, and Liera was going crosseyed trying to look at it.  It looked headachey.

Then Tsui's foot was on her cunt.  "Come now, piglet," said Tsui.  "Dance."

She started playing her flute, slow and sensuous, and slowly, Liera started humping her foot, trying not to fall over, trying not to drop the sticky bun, trying to . . . it felt really good, firm and smooth and strong, and she wanted . . . she wasn't going to be allowed to come, but she wanted . . . .

The Lady Arith threw a turnip at her.  It caught Liera right in the ribs.  It hurt, and she dropped the sticky bun.

"Poor little piglet," said Tsui.  "You may bring the bun here."

Liera glared up at her, which left Tsui looking like she'd just heard the funniest joke.  And then Liera crawled over to the bun.

A line of fire across her butt.  "No hands," said Tsui, coiling her whip.

Another, apparently hilarious, look at Tsui.  Liera took the bun in her mouth, and crawled back.  She could bite down.  It'd been almost two days, and she'd had nothing but greens to eat.  She could get most of the bun down before they stopped her, and it wasn't even like Maash would be disappointed—she'd probably think it was funny.  And sure, she'd be punished, but they were probably going to beat her anyway.  It was just that she'd been told to bring the bun back to Tsui.  It tasted so good, just holding it in her mouth, and she burned with the fact that she could've eaten it.  But she dropped it into Tsui's hands, and looked up at her.

It seemed like that look wasn't quite as funny.  "What a lovely piglet," said Tsui, holding the bun with the ends of her fingers, to keep from getting drool and sugar on her hands.  "You may have a turnip."

Liera didn't want a turnip.  She ate it, glaring up at Tsui, who dropped the bun on one of the refuse platters, and who hummed softly to herself as she attached a chain to a hook in the ceiling.  But she didn't want it.

"And if you're finished with your dinner?" said Tsui.

Liera was finished with the turnip, anyway.  She went over to Tsui, who attached the chain between her wrists to the chain hanging from the ceiling, spread her legs out, and attached her ankles to bolts in the floor.  Enough slack that Liera didn't have to stand on her tiptoes, but not much more than that.

"Unfortunately, they're not quite ready for their desserts yet," said Tsui, in her ear.  "But let us see how entertaining you can be."

Liera was facing the tables, and Tsui was pressed up behind her, slim and warm.  A light touch on her breast, circling, soothing.  Then a whip across her upper thigh.

They mostly weren't watching her.  They were talking to each other, eating—there was lamb!—the Krin was holding up a glass of lemongrass cordial, looking at the light through it.  But occasionally they would look at her—a threatening intensity from the Eraath, half-lidded amusement from the Yail, pride of ownership from Maash.  Liera moaned, pushed back against Tsui's finger on her clit, which meant the finger was quickly withdrawn.

There was enough slack that she could twist away from the whip, or into the touches.  Enough to move, not enough to actually get away, or to follow a touch once Tsui had decided to withdraw it.  Tsui was perhaps less skilled than Jalah, her touches less expert, her blows less precise.  But she was more . . . Tsui bit Liera's neck, kissed it, lapped briefly at her cunt, just enough to remind her of that feeling before biting her inner thigh, before whipping her breast.

"Please," said Liera, softly, not sure what she was asking for.  She was still twisting into the touch, but she was also twisting into the whip; she needed more, just a little more, a little more of anything.  "Please, oh please."

"Shh," said Tsui, softly.  She bit down on Liera's ear.  "Hush, piggy.  Soon the guests will take their dessert."

Liera moaned, incoherent.  There was a puddle on the floor between her legs.  Not a huge puddle, but enough to be seen; the Yail nudged the Lady Arith and pointed it out.  She wanted . . . Liera knew that she'd take anything at that point.  If Maash asked, she would go to the Yail and Arith for a week, and take what they gave her.

The Krin was the first to take his dessert.  He came up behind her; Tsui moved in front of her, and alternated whipping her breasts and teasing her clit as the Krin filled her ass, and started thrusting.  Liera pushed back into him, aching for . . . she just wanted to feel, wanted him pressed up against her.  He held her back, controlling her body with a hand on her hips, on her lower back.

She leaned forward like he wanted, as well as the chain would allow.  Tsui smiled at her, bit her neck, gently; it was almost a kiss.

It was like before, when he'd been fucking her, and she hadn't been allowed to come—she wasn't going to be able to finish, but he would, and his pleasure became hers, her hips moved to his thrusts.  It was what she was going to get, and it was . . . there were Tsui's feathery touches on her breasts, on her shoulders, on her lips.

He finished, breathing hard.  Four final thrusts, each one deeper than the last.  He pulled out, wiped his cock on the outside of her thigh.  "You are a good girl, Liera," he said, after Liera thanked him for his attentions.  "I look forward to your next visit."

Almost as soon as the Krin sat down, the Eraath took his place.  He was larger and rougher, and if it hadn't been for the Krin loosening her up a bit, it would've hurt unbearably.  As it was, it hurt, but Tsui's touches were soft, and her lips on Liera's nipples, and her thin wooden cane on Liera's thighs were . . . they left Liera in a haze.  She gasped, she pushed back, she panted with need.

The Eraath came hard; much harder than he'd come in her mouth; the force of those last few thrusts lifted Liera up to her tiptoes, and he looked shaky when he was done, barely noticing Liera's thanks, and wobbling slightly on his way back to his table, to eat some candied fruit and pastries.  It was hard to stay focused, with Tsui's hands and toys working on her, but Liera felt a certain measure of satisfaction watching that; she wasn't finishing, but she seemed to have done a pretty good job with him, anyway.

Then Jalah was behind her.  "There are some who might think you have been underfed here, oddly enough.  Tell me, piglet, do you want more to eat?"

"Yes, lady," said Liera, barely daring to hope.

Something metal scraped along the inside of her thigh, up to the bottom of her ass.  When she brought it around in front of Liera, she could see that it was a curved tool, something that she'd used in making jewelry.  She could also see that it was covered in her juices and in come that had leaked from her ass.  "Lick," said Jalah, and Liera did, her eyes not leaving Jalah.  In the moment, Liera didn't mind the taste; it wasn't good, but it was what she needed.

Jalah patted her on the cheek when she was done.  "Such a charming girl.  A bit stupid, of course, but that is charming as well.  Perhaps we shall see you again soon."

Then the Yail and the Lady Arith came up to her, with a polite nod to Maash.  Apparently, legs held apart and arms up wasn't sufficient; Liera's right leg was unhooked from the floor, and pulled up by her knee towards another point on the roof.  It was incredibly uncomfortable, and when the Yail pushed in to her ass, she leaned back against him, grateful for the support.

"So," said Arith.  "Are you enjoying yourself?"

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

"No," said Arith, and slapped her across the face.  "I do not want to hear rote recitation.  Are you enjoying being fucked in the ass by numerous men, some of whom you do not know?"

Liera struggled for words; the Lady Arith slapped her again.

"Yes," she said, finally.  "I am."

"And there's a clever piglet!  The Lady Jalah tells me that you wish to be raped by an endless succession of servants.  Is this correct as well?"

The Yail's cock was moving in and out, strong and hard.

"I . . . I don't know," said Liera.

A slap.  "Yes or no, piglet."

"Her diction," said the Yail, "could use improvement."

"Of course," said Arith, with a fond smile over Liera's shoulder.  "Tongue out."

Liera stuck her tongue out, and Arith put a clip on it, which hurt, and which kept her tongue from fitting back into her mouth.  "Now answer."

"Yeth," said Liera, miserably.  "I ood like that veey muth."

"And will you like it if your lady takes a husband, and they keep you in a kennel, brought out only to amuse them with your pain?"

"Nuhh!" said Liera.

The Yail laughed.  "Doesn't feel like the truth," he said.

"Tsk, tsk," said Lady Arith.  "Another clip, flute girl."

Tsui gave one to her, which she fastened to Liera's left nipple.  "And a weight."

Tsui passed her an amethyst on a golden chain.  It made the clamp hurt more, but it also—with the Yail's every thrust, the stone moved, pulling at the clip.

"Now, Liera Oldfield, daughter of Mari Oldfield, tell me.  Do you wish to devote yourself to pain and sex, to live chained and kenneled, forbidden speech and clothing and everything else human?"

The Yail's finger was in her cunt; he knew that the idea was doing to her.  "Yeth, Laiee."

She flicked the amethyst.  "Of course, that's also a fib.  And that is what makes you so charming, piglet.  You want and you don't want; when that is given to you, you shall love it and you shall hate it."

Arith looked over Liera's shoulder again, smiled.  "I suppose it will be a little while before you convince your lady to send you to us.  But that time will doubtless come.  And until then, I'm sure we shall see you at gatherings of this sort."

Another flick at the amethyst.  "In any case, I shall be sure to let my friends know what a wonderful little pig Lady Maash has acquired."

Liera groaned at the thought of Lady Arith's friends, and the Yail thrust deeper, groaned as well.

"Thanee lor, fuh yuh attenthons," she said; nobody seemed to notice.

Then they returned to their seats, and Taril was in front of her, watching her drool on the floor, his finger lightly brushing against the amethyst that the Lady Arith had attached.

"I take it," he said, "you aren't allowed to finish."

"Yeth, lorr."

"Don't."  He moved around the back, snorted.  "Napkin, please, Tsui."

The cloth was rough against her thighs, her cunt, her asshole.  He tossed it to the side, positioned himself, pushed in.  Liera pushed back against him.  His hands started on her hips as he started thrusting, but one of them moved around, lower.

Liera tried to avoid it, tried not to push against his hand, to take his thrusts without moving.  She couldn't.

"Pleeth, lorr," she said, a streamer of drool dripping from the clamp on her tongue down to the floor.  "Pleeth!"

"Don't," said Taril, but he didn't move his hand, didn't slow down.  She couldn't stop, she was going to . . . but he said no, and Maash was watching, and Lady Jalah, and Maash had a present for her, and—

At the very last moment, just when she was about to go over the edge, his hand moved away.  She gasped, shuddered, tried to pull herself back together.  And then it was there again.

The pain from the clamps was getting worse; her arms and shoulders ached, and that was getting worse.  Her butt was sore, and each thrust hurt.  And she was going to come, whether or not she was supposed to.

Again, just at the last moment, he let her go.  Liera was sobbing, pushing back as hard as she could against Taril, feeling his warmth between her legs, the hairs of his thighs pushed against the inside of hers.  If he touched her again—

He did.  But it was so light; just right at the edge of something she could feel.  Liera'd forgotten everything except for how close she was, how good it felt.  She tried to push against his fingers, and he kept them there just long enough to give her hope, and then pulled them away.

Taril pulled Liera's head back by her hair.  "Don't," he said, and let it drop.  His hand was on her cunt, his cock was thrusting deep in her ass.  The hand wasn't moving, and she was so close.  So close.  But Maash was watching, and there was a light in her eyes, and Jalah looked amused and pleased, and . . . she didn't, not even when Taril's hand clenched, and he drove deep into her, not when his hand unclenched, and he patted her pussy, fondly. 

She gasped out her thanks, and she was so close.  And then Maash came up, and kissed her mouth, hard and soft, because she'd missed her, and because she owned her, and if there had been anything, even a feather's touch on her, it would've sent Liera over the edge.