Slaver's Luck
by Tanith Tyrr
pleasure@netcom.com
Chapters 1 - 4

I.

    
     The streets stank and the cobblestones were cold under his
thin-worn boots, but the young Elf hardly noticed, intent on the
richly-robed woman he followed.  He was gaunt and spare, even for
an Elvatuar, and his cloak was torn.  Incongruously, he wore a
heavy torque of gold at his throat.  Its soft, rich gleam was
hidden beneath a patched and ragged tunic.  
     His features were delicate and finely drawn, with the
upswept ears and pale, wine-colored hair that marked him as an
alien to the Human city.   He walked casually, insolently, as if
he too were merely a pleasure seeker in the wharf taverns.  The
woman did not notice him.  Once, she stopped in one of the dim,
smoky halls to trade some of her coin for a stoppered crystal
flask.  She walked on, sipping clear violet wine.  
     Briefly, he considered approaching her in the tavern, and
rejected the thought.  Better to wait. 
     Aeryk shivered, drawing the cloak more tightly around his
slim frame.  His profession was not one generally approved of on
the wharves of Reshor, and he was not eager to meet its guardsmen
again.  He still bore bruises from the time he was last caught. 
The captain, a tough-looking, 'Morph breed woman they called
Khesti, had beaten him and laughed all the while.  After the
beating, she tossed him casually into the dirty waters of the
bay.  Her claws had left deep, scarlet weals in his pale skin.  
     The slender Elf shuddered again, only partly because of the
cold, and concentrated on remaining unobtrusive.  Furtively, he
continued to watch her.   She was dressed in rich scarlet and
brown silks, with the short leather tunic of a fighting woman
tight over the swell of her breasts.  What he could see of her
body seemed fit and tautly muscled.  She might not be such a good
target, he thought uneasily.  Still, the weight of that purse
she's carrying....   Aeryk had been hungry for a long time, and
one good haul from a rich merchant, or a rich merchant's wife,
would take care of him for quite a while.  
     Nervously, he fingered the heavy gold torque he still wore,
stolen a week ago from the collection of a man who had probably
not yet noticed its disappearance.  Maybe I should just try to
fence this, he thought.  Even at Nattick's prices, it should
bring me enough to eat, until I can find a more likely victim.  
He sighed, recalling the old man's extortionate offers.  
     "Ye won't be able to sell such as that anywhere else, Prick-
Ears," he'd said mockingly.  "Five silver is the best I can do
for ye."   Aeryk had known that the torque was worth easily ten
times that in metal value alone, and the artistry of its make was
unmistakeable.  So he had left the shop coinless, the torque
still around his throat. 
     That had been two days ago.  Since then, he had eaten only
what he had managed to scrounge from the wharves, or beg.  If I
pull this one off, Aeryk vowed to himself, I'm going to eat for a
week.  
     The fog crept in to twine intimately around his thinly clad
legs, and he shivered and cursed quietly.  A new set of clothes
would also be not amiss, he thought ruefully.  He resolutely
picked up his half-numbed feet to follow the woman, kicking away
the fog that had settled around them.  Offended, the thin grey
tendrils dissolved into the surrounding air.
     The woman stopped in front of one of the wharfside taverns
and read the legend on its sign.  Satisfied, she took a last swig
from the flask at her belt and pushed her way in through the
double doors.
     Aeryk glanced at the sign, which boasted that the Silken
Bridle had the best selection on the wharves.  What an odd name
for an inn, he thought.  Still, it should do.  He followed her
into the light and noise of the tavern.
     The place was warm and well-lit by a blazing fire in the
corner.  Shivering and grateful, the young Elf moved nearer to
the stone hearth.  He made sure to keep a watchful eye on his
chosen target.
     She moved with a fluid grace through the room, her precise,
controlled walk hinting at the skills of a dancer, or a warrior. 
Other patrons moved aside quickly to let her pass, and she
claimed a table at the far end of the room.  The press of bodies
made it difficult for Aeryk to follow her immediately, so he
contented himself with soaking up the welcome warmth of the
crackling flames and looking about the tavern.   
     He noted immediately that the tavern was occupied by 'Morphs
of various breeds as well as Humans.  He was not surprised to see
that none of the 'Morphs, full or part breed, were serving
tables.  Since the 'Morph wars had ended seven years ago, few or
none of the genetically altered animal/human crosses served in
menial positions anywhere, if they could possibly help it.  
     Freed from slavery by their savage and hard-fought victory
over the powerful Guild mages who had created them, few of them
were eager to take up work that reminded them of their former
lives.  The only 'Morph slaves now were those legally captured
and judicially enslaved.  The single exception to this rule were
the First Breed, who were still considered to be legal property.  
Humans made up most of the slave stock now, with occasional
Elvatuar or other nonhumans sold or kept to serve in a tavern as
exotics.  But the majority of the Humans in this bar were fairly
well dressed, an obvious contrast to his worn and tattered
clothing.
     I'm going to be conspicuous, he thought.  Unless....  He
looked around, as if casually.  A fair number of the tavern's
workers were male, as was made quite obvious by the brief cloths
they wore.  All of them had distinctive necklaces, almost like
his torque, but of a solid metal which closely encircled the
neck.  If he turned the half-circle of the torque around, and
removed his shirt, he might be able to pass for a worker.  It
made some sense, he supposed, for the table servers to wear
little clothing, as it did get quite warm in the enclosed tavern. 
Quietly, he slipped into the privy area. 
     He presented himself to her at her table, deferentially, as
he had seen several other men do.  "Shall I bring you wine, or
something else?"  She looked up at him keenly, appraisingly. 
Suddenly, he blushed, realizing how much the disguise revealed
his body. 
     She grinned, slowly.  "Something else, I think.  What's your
name?"  Her eyes traveled down his lithe form appreciatively.
     He thought frantically for a moment.  "Aeramar.  And who do
I have the honor of serving?"
     "Jenna Blackwolf, of the Lykos Slaver's Guild."  Her stare
was piercing.  "You didn't come through the Guild, did you?  I
know I would have noticed you." 
     O my ancestors, he thought.  She assumes I'm a slave.  That
must mean all the men here are slaves.  He swallowed once,
frightened.  It was too late to back out of this job now.  "Ah,
no, I was a recent capture.  I, uh, haven't even been branded
yet."  
     Jenna regarded him with interest.  "Nor pierced."  He
glanced quickly at the serving slaves, and saw that each had a
single, thin hoop dangling from one ear.  Inadvertently, his hand
went to his own ear.  "You must indeed be new."  
     She looked at him with an appraising, predatory stare.  He
had to fight to keep from feeling like a hunted, helpless animal
under her gaze, and wondered if she had 'Morph blood.  Probably
wolf genes, if her clan name and her powerfully built body was
any indication.  
     There was a distinct suggestion of something savage about
her face, with its high, slanting cheekbones and deep-set green
eyes.  Unlike most 'Morph quarter and half breeds, there was no
hint of an extended muzzle, or fur on the sides of her face.  She
was beautiful rather than pretty, with an oddly compelling
charisma that was immediately apparent in the way she held
herself.  When she spoke, even softly, it was obvious that she
was accustomed to being obeyed.  She's high in the Guild, Aeryk
guessed.  O Mothers, what have I gotten myself into? 
     "Come with me," she said, and snapped her fingers, as if he
was indeed no more than an animal.  She rose decisively from the
table, jerking a thumb at him.  "I've rented a room upstairs." 
He stood obediently, elated.  In private, he would find a better
opportunity to get what he came for, although she looked as if
she might prove formidable.  Extremely formidable.  Still, he
would have the advantage of surprise. 
     The room was a lush and decadent one, with velvet hangings
and mirrors of beaten metal.  With soft fur silver-tipped and
pale, the long skins of ice snakes lined the large bed.  She
turned to him at the door, abruptly, frightening him.  "I gift
well, when I am pleased.  I also carry a slave quirt, for when I
am not.  I suggest you try hard to please me." 
   His heart was beating rapidly.  I may actually have to go
through with this.  The thought was oddly arousing to him,
although more than a little frightening. 
     Jenna was hardly unattractive to the young Elf.  He had
never seen a woman who exuded so much raw power and confidence,
combined with an exotic beauty.  Briefly, he wondered what her
hands would feel like on his body. 
     The woman shut the heavy door behind them.  The finality of
the door's grate and slam made him squirm a litle, feeling
trapped.  She yawned, tossing her belt with its pouches onto the
soft bed.  "I'm going to bathe before I have you, pretty Elf." 
She pointed sharply to the floor, and her voice became a whip's
crack.  "Kneel there on the furs until I return."  She turned and
walked into the bathing alcove, not stopping to see if he had
obeyed.  
     He waited until he heard the sound of running water, then
counted twenty breaths.  Swiftly, he scooped up her pouches and
jeweled dagger, and whipped off the golden torque with which he
had, he now knew, masqueraded as a collared slave.  Pausing only
a moment more to untie his shirt from his waist and put it on, he
hurried out of the room.

II.

     
     "What in Dhanu's name do you mean I don't get my gold back?"
bellowed Jenna, her hand twitching on the hilt of her sword.  "I
tell you, one of your slaves stole my good charmed dagger and
most of my coin as well!"  
     The older, balding man flinched.  "I assure you, he was not
one of ours, or he couldn't have gotten out of the place.  We're
very careful about keeping nonhumans, since the Wars ended.  We
thought he came in with you."  He flinched again as she moved
toward him menacingly.  "You can't just kill me!" he quavered. 
"I'll call the guards!"  
     Her eyes were cold and steely.  "You do that."  She spoke
flatly, with contempt.  "I'm going to visit a wizard."   She
walked out.


III. 
     

     The thing moved about unhappily in its cage.  When its
captor was done speaking to the other hideous, blobby creature,
it hoped it would be fed.  It had been too long.  The
susurrations of the other's voice were melodious and not
unpleasant, almost reminiscent of the mating songs of what would
have passed for insects on its own world.  Twining its tendrils
sadly, it listened, and thought of home. 
     "You're sure this will work, wizard?" Jenna demanded warily. 
"This is costing me dear.  I swear I'll come back and hang your
guts on a tree if it doesn't."   
     Vasht laughed, half sunk into an obscenely soft chair.  It
was not a pleasant or attractive laugh, and it made the rolls of
fat on his belly shake unpleasantly.  "No need for threats,
little cub.  It will work."
     Almost inaudibly, Jenna snarled.  "Don't call me that,
wizard.  Don't ever call me that."  Again, the man laughed.
     "As you wish."  He attempted a courtly bow, mocking. 
"Farewell, then, my lady Wolf."  She glared at him, and turned to
go. 
     On her way out, she noticed the cage and the writhing, alien
mass within.  Jenna barely suppressed a shudder.  "Damn wizard's
pets," she muttered to herself as she left the citadel.


IV. 

        
     The door exploded inward, and Jenna hurled herself into the
small room.  Startled, Aeryk cried out as she thrust sharp steel
against his throat, pulling his head back.  Her fist clenched
mercilessly in his long, silver-pale hair.  "Little Elf," she
snarled.  "I think I'm going to enjoy this."  
     The razor-edged dagger traced a thin line down his throat. 
Expertly, she slit his tunic down the front.  His chest was
lightly furred, outlining small, rose-colored nipples.  Almost
playfully, she laid the cold steel against them, to watch them
harden and rise.  He cried out, softly.  "A pretty one, aren't
you.   Did the Guild send you?"  
     His tongue darted out to moisten dry lips.  "No.  I'm not
with the Thieves' Guild."  
     Jenna chuckled nastily.  "Then you're a wharf rat."  She
used the common term for one of the gangs of youths, mostly
orphans, that slept beneath the wharves and lived by what they
could scrounge or steal.  They occasionally hired out for petty,
criminal work beneath the dignity of the professional Thieves'
Guild.  "Seeing the way you're dressed, I thought that was the
case.  The Guild generally does better by its members."  
     She grinned, caressing his bare chest with the flat of the
blade.  "This time you picked the wrong place to nibble, little
rat.  Do you know how much I paid last night to use you?"  
     He shook his head, frightened.  "Two gold.  That's the
standard price at the Bridle for a room and a slave."  She held
the dagger in front of his face meaningfully.  "Not to mention
what you stole from me, and what I spent to get it back.  You
cost me a great deal, pretty Elf, and I'm going to take my
satisfaction out of your hide."  
     As she spoke, she tossed the dagger upwards with an expert
flick of her wrist, leaving it stuck quivering in the ceiling. 
Quickly, she pinned his arms with one hand, and whipped a length
of leather around them with the other.  She pushed him brutally
down onto the small bed, on his stomach.  In an instant, a
similar length of leather encircled his ankles, fastening them
securely.  Dazed, he tried to get up.  She held him down easily. 
     Aeryk felt leather brush his back.  He struggled, trying to
see.  "Do you remember what I told you in the room?"  Wildly, the
young Elf shook his head.  "I gift men well, when I am pleased. 
And I carry a whip when I go to the taverns, for when I am not
pleased."  Again, he felt the roughly tanned hide stroking his
bare back, and he shivered, knowing it for what it was.  "I am
most assuredly not pleased." 
     The Elf howled for mercy after the second stroke.  She
stopped, and regarded the smooth arch of his back, now marred by
the rapidly rising welts.  She could see blood beginning to break
the surface in the deepest parts of the marks, turning them dark. 
 He looked up at her pleadingly, hopefully.  "Please, my lady,
please, no more!  I'll never bother you again, I swear it!" 
     She reached down and fondled his head almost affectionately. 
"I'm sure you won't."  Roughly, Jenna thrust the remnants of his
cut tunic into his mouth, and tied it around his head.  "We can't
have the other patrons of the inn disturbed, now,"  she remarked,
and resumed the beating.  Helpless, his slim body jerked and
trembled under the leather. 
     Before she was done, she used her hands on him as well as
the whip.  She left him bruised.  Dark welts crisscrossed his
back in a frighteningly artistic pattern, and reddened patches
showed on his chest and face where Jenna had cuffed him.  Aeryk
whimpered pitifully through the gag, his cheeks stained with
tears, when she stepped back to admire her handiwork.  "Very
nice.  Very nice indeed.  You mark well."  
     Through his pain and humiliation, he felt a curious
sensation.  He had pleased her, and he was glad to have done so. 
Not just because it might incline her to hurt him less, but
because he had pleased this woman.  He felt suddenly,
inexplicably grateful that she had chosen to compliment him.  
Handling him easily, Jenna flipped him over.  He winced at the
harshness of the coarse weave against his back.  She leaned
closer to him.  "Pretty Elf." she said softly, trailing one
finger deliberately down his chest.  Again, the flush of
gratitude, his eyes wide and vulnerable.  "I think you're ready." 
He was suddenly afraid.  Did she know, somehow, that he had had a
moment of weakness, that he had wanted to please her?  
     Jenna extracted a gleaming hoop of metal from her pouch, her
fingers deft and sure.  "Something I bought from a wizard." she
explained.  "I had it attuned to my dagger, the one you stole." 
She grinned down at him wolfishly.  "That's how I found you.  I
have another use for it now."  
     She opened it, revealing two complementary, sharp points, as
if it had been cut diagonally with a knife.  "Slaves at The
Silken Bridle serve with one ear pierced, to show their
submission and willingness to serve."  
     She smiled at him humorlessly. "There are two differences
with this earring, however. First, it does not come off.  It has
a binding spell set on it, to lock permanently once it is fully
closed.  Second, it has a magical binding on it to be attuned to
my dagger, which I will be more careful of in the future.  If I
wish, I can always find you."  
     He felt the unyielding metal touch his delicate, pointed
ear.  "I decided that you would be marked like a slave, before
you served me as one."  
     Wild denial rose in him, and he wanted to cry out.  Her hand
gripped him tightly by the hair.  Firmly, she pulled his earlobe
taut, and pushed the hoop through.  It glowed briefly with a cold
fire, and sealed itself through his flesh.  He jerked at the
sudden, sharp pain, but could do no more than whimper through the
gag. 
     Jenna smiled with satisfaction, adjusting the earring a bit. 
"Lovely.  You wear the earring well."  He felt a slave's helpless
gratitude, complimented, but tried to thrust it away angrily.  
     She heard him try to mumble something through the gag.  "Do
you want this taken off, pretty Elf?" she asked.  Impatiently, he
nodded, waiting.  Jenna regarded him.  "Do you beg for it to be
taken off?" she asked.  He thought for a while, and then nodded. 
She removed it, and tossed the now sadly abused, wadded tunic to
the floor.
     "You can't just rape me.  I'm not a slave!"  Aeryk tried to
sit up, but she stopped him, her hand heavy on his chest.   
     Her short-cropped hair fell in dark fronds around her face,
framing a wicked grin.  "Very well.  I won't rape you, until you
beg me to."  Holding him down effortlessly, she began to touch
him.  Her hand was in his hair, and his arms arched and bound
over his head.  His ankles were lashed together, the thin cord
pressing keenly into his flesh even through his cloth pants.  He
squirmed uncomfortably, feeling helpless. 
     Slowly, with relish, she ran a hand down his chest and
belly, and licked her lips.  "I'm going to make you beg me to."  
Delicately, she moistened a finger in her mouth and drew it
across one of his nipples.  Without wanting to, he shuddered and
jerked. 
     "No, please..." he begged softly, terrified by the
uncontrollable and unfamiliar sensations he was experiencing. 
Bound and held helplessly, and touched, he was beginning to grow
more and more excited, as much as he tried to fight it.  She
touched him again, this time more roughly.  She pinched first one
nipple, then the other.  Bound, he twisted his body sharply to
try to escape her.
     She laughed at him and tightened her hand in his hair, her
arm thrust through his bound wrists for leverage.  "Don't
struggle, little Elf.  You might hurt yourself."  she warned. 
Instantly, he arched his back and froze, trying to ease the pain
of her merciless grip.  Deliberately, she jerked his head back
and cuffed him.  "Don't ever pull away from me.  I own your body. 
I do with it as I please."  
     "No!" Aeryk cried rebelliously.  "I'm not a slave!"  She
regarded him coolly and removed the doubled length of leather
from her belt. 
     "Shut up."  She caressed his chest with the strap, rubbing
the rough-cured hide against his nipples.  Against his will, they
stiffened.  "I think you need another lesson."
     Aeryk cringed.  "No, please, no," he begged.  "Don't hurt
me."  He could feel the heat of the welts on his back.  By now,
the pain had faded to an almost pleasant warmth, but he feared
another meeting with the whip.   
     Her hand was in his hair, holding him down.  Her face was
near his own, her green eyes flashing with a powerful, animal
vitality.  The woman's air of command was natural and
unconscious, and he felt himself automatically responding to it.  
He was more than a little aroused, despite his fear.
     "Will you obey me, then?"  Jenna asked, touching him
meaningfully with the leather.  Gulping, he nodded.  He felt very
small and insignificant next to a woman who could control him so
easily.  "Will you try to please me?"  He hesitated, then
flinched, expecting to be struck.  She moved onto the bed,
stroking his chest lightly.  "You want to please me, don't you." 
It was not a question. 
     Wide-eyed, he looked at her.  She knew; she had read his
desire and his involuntary submission from his body.  Slowly,
terrified of what he was doing, Aeryk nodded.  "Say, `yes, my
lady, I want to please you.'"
     He froze.  It seemed to him a significant thing that he
should admit to her, with his own mouth and willingly, that he
wanted to please her.  He still wasn't sure what she wanted, but
he was fairly certain that she wasn't going to kill him.  
     "I own you," she said, gently.  "Say it."  Her hand touched
his face, and he could feel its warm strength.  Aeryk closed his
eyes, abandoning himself to it. 
     "Yes, my lady, I want to please you." he whispered.  A heady
rush overwhelmed him, making him feel dizzy.   
     "I own you," she said.  "Say it."  Her hand closed around
his throat, claiming him, but did not tighten. 
     This time he did not hesitate. "You own me."  He looked up
at her shyly. "My lady."  Jenna smiled, obviously pleased, and he
felt grateful.  "Please don't hurt me," he begged.  He felt
utterly vulnerable, having submitted himself to her.  She could
do what she wanted with him. 
     "I'm not going to hurt you, pretty Elf." she told him. "At
least, not much."  He shivered as she slipped a hand between his
thighs.  His flesh tingled at the contact, even through the thin
cloth, and he felt himself beginning to harden.  
     Lightly, she stroked him.  "I'm going to enjoy you." she
said.  To his shame, his hips moved involuntarily, pressing his
cock into her hand.  He groaned.
     Knowing he would no longer struggle, she removed her other
hand from his hair, and began to touch his body.  He moaned and
moved, arching his body up to meet her caresses.  He was
incredibly excited to be bound helplessly and touched, by a woman
who literally owned him.  She wanted him enough to own him.  No
one has ever wanted me like this, he thought wonderingly, lost in
a blaze of sensation.
     She untied his pants and jerked them down.  He did not
resist.  His cock was long and slim and slightly curved, and
strained erect.  Grasping his hips firmly with her hands, holding
him down, she flicked her tongue delicately over the head of his
cock, tasting the eager moisture.  A few more drops beaded his
belly.  "Ready for me, I see." she remarked.  He gasped, and
tried to thrust his hips towards her, but her hands held him down
mercilessly.  "Such a lovely toy you are to play with.  So
responsive."  
     She moved to crouch over him, and put her mouth on his
nipples, biting and licking.  He cried out inarticulately,
pleadingly.  She stopped and looked down at him.  
     "Are you...are you going to rape me?"  The question was half
fearful and half hopeful. She grinned lazily down at him. "No, I
can't." she told him, idly pinching one of his nipples.  
     He whimpered. "Why not?"  
     She chuckled at him. "Eager, aren't you?  You're not a
slave, remember?  So I can't rape you."  She continued to stroke
him, running her fingers over his nipples and the moist tip of
his cock.  He trembled uncontrollably, and strained upward in his
bonds. 
     "But you own me, you said so.  So I must be a slave!"  he
said desperately.  He squirmed, horribly excited.
     She regarded him seriously.  "Are you a slave, then?"
     "Yes!" he cried, wildly, surprising himself.  "Your slave!" 
He could hardly believe what he was saying.
     Jenna grinned, showing her teeth.  They were very white and
sharp.  "I still can't rape you, you know." she informed him.  "I
promised, remember?"
     He moaned. "You said that you wouldn't, until I begged for
it."  She lowered her head to his chest, and began to flick her
tongue on his swollen, erect nipples.  He almost screamed.
     When she had finished tasting him, she commanded, "Beg for
it, then.  If you want it." 
     Aeryk closed his eyes.  "Please," he whispered. 
"please...."  He thrust his hips up shamelessly, offering
himself.
     "Please, what?" she demanded.  She took his cock roughly in
her hand and squeezed it.  He moaned.
     "Please, my lady, rape me.  Take me.  I beg it."  His cock
throbbed in her hand.  
     She put a hand under his chin, and forced him to look into
her eyes, deeply.  "Beg me again." she commanded.
     He writhed. "Please rape me.  Take me.  I'll try to please
you, I beg to please you.  Please, my lady."  He was suddenly
desperate, his need overwhelming.  What if she decided not to
give him relief?  "Please, I beg of you, please, have me!"  His
cock was a jutting tower of need, almost painfully swollen and
throbbing insistently between his legs.  
     "Very well, pretty slave.  I will rape you." He whimpered
his gratitude and arched his body, offering his hips to her. 
"But first you must please me."  He nodded obediently.  "You
haven't yet earned the right to pleasure.  Do you understand?"  
     She showed him the quirt.  Cut from rough-cured hide, it had
a wide strap in the middle, and thinner, twisted cord extending
at both ends.  The cords were knotted at the ends, and along
their length.  The slim Elf shuddered, remembering how those
cords had cut viciously into his back.  How the strap, doubled,
had slapped painfully against his reddened ass.
     Jenna teased him, drawing the leather lightly across his
chest.  "I'm not going to hurt you too much, this time.  I just
want to play with you a little."  She cracked the leather strap
between her hands, a predatory grin on her face.
     He jumped a little at the sound.  "Don't hurt me," he
pleaded, not really meaning it.  Oddly, he trusted her.  She
wanted his submission, and his body, not to maim or kill him. 
Even in her anger, she had only beaten him.  And was it not
exactly what he deserved?  He had stolen from her, displeased
her, and now he was to be punished.  If another beating would
make her pleased with him, then he wanted it.   A part of him
cried rebellion, but it was too late.  He wasn't listening.
     The young Elf was intensely aware of his body, of his
nakedness, and the harsh leather scraping his wrists.  He cried
out, startled, as she brought the strap down hard on his nipple. 
It seemed to throb and burn.  Again, the loud crack, and the
pain.  He fought to keep from moaning.  He wanted to please her. 
     She noted his clenched fists, the tight line of his lips. 
"No need for silence, my pretty slave.  I like to hear you."  She
pinched and lifted the abused nipple, making him gasp.  "Tell me
your name," she demanded, seizing a handful of flesh on his
chest. 
     "Aeryk," he answered promptly.  Positioning the strap
carefullly, she delivered a blow to the other nipple she had
trapped between her cupped fingers.  He jerked, but was careful
not to pull away. 
     "That's not what you told me in the tavern," she said.  "Did
you lie to me, little Elf?"  She stroked him between the thighs
with the strap, not quite brushing his cock.  He shuddered,
moving his hips. 
     "No, my lady. `Aeramar' was the name I bore as a child,
before I was made Outcast."  He looked away.  "I don't use it any
more.  They gave me a Human name when I joined the pack." 
     She struck him a few more times, aiming accurately at his
nipples.  Once, she caught him with the knotted cord, and he
cried out, whimpering.  He did not ask for mercy.  Jenna watched
him casually, enjoying the sight of his naked and bound body
tensed against her blows.  "Why were you outcast?" she asked him. 
"Thieving?" 
     His eyes flashed briefly, defiant.  "I am halfbreed.  That
was my only crime.  My people cast me out when I was only a
child."  
     Jenna looked oddly troubled.  "You have 'Morph blood?" she
questioned.  "You don't show it."
     "No."  He spoke quietly.  "My father was Human.  He forced
my mother."
     She nodded.  "You lived with the wharf rats?"   The youth
gangs of Reshor often took in abandoned children and orphans,
protecting them until they grew old enough to fight and steal for
the gang.
     Aeryk was suddenly ashamed.  "I had no choice!" he burst
out.  "This - what I did to you - is the only life I know.  If I
had a choice...."  The young Elf fell silent.  He knew what she
must think of him, a dirty little thief, a wharf rat.  He wished
suddenly, mightily, that he could have been something else. 
Something more worthy of this woman's respect, and of her desire.
     "There are always choices," she said shortly, and heaved him
over onto his belly.  Smartly, she laid into his already welted
back with the strap.  He wailed miserably, tears beginning to run
down his face.  Aeryk was no longer longer frantic with desire,
and the beating just hurt. 
     "No! You don't understand!" he protested, his eyes stinging. 
The pain of the beating was nothing, compared to the humiliation
he felt.  
     She stopped.  "Don't ever tell me I don't understand, Elf
boy," she told him flatly.  "Did you guess that I had 'Morph
blood?  A quarter, or an eighth, you thought."  He nodded.  "I'm
a full breed 'Morph."
     He looked up at her, twisting his neck painfully.  "But
that's imposs-"  He caught himself.  "Unless you were altered not
to show it.  But that would mean that you're...." he trailed off,
unwilling to say it.
     "First Breed." she spat.  "That's right.  My father, may
Dhanu eat him, sired me on the body of a bitch-wolf, and shaped
me to his desire.  Literally."  
     By the Slaver's Code, First Breed were still the property of
the mages that made them.  Directly altered in the womb by
powerful magicks, they also tended to be stronger, faster, and
smarter than any of the other 'Morphs.  It was widely suspected
that the 'Morph general Lhiani's capitulation on the issue of
First Breed slaves was primarily because of the prevailing fear
among 'Morphs and Humans alike for the powerful, unpredictable
results of the mixing of animal and mage blood.  Although the
'Morph Wars had freed their descendants, the first of the
mageborn were still in bondage to their sorcerous masters.
     "You're someone's property, then?" he asked, then cringed. 
He had not meant to sound insolent.
     She growled.  "The first time that filthy bastard tried to
use me, I opened his throat with my hands."  She looked down at
them, reflectively.  "He didn't give me claws, but he made me
strong.  Among other things."  
     She gripped one of his bound shoulders, letting him feel a
little of her strength.  No wonder she handled me so easily, he
thought.  Strangely, he was no longer frightened.  "I guess I had
more choices than you ever did," he said quietly.  "I'm sorry." 
She nodded.  "Why do you honor me by telling me this?" 
     She looked surprised.  "Is it honor, then?  I suppose you
could see it that way."  Lightly, she ran a hand down his back,
and he winced.  "Well warmed, are you?  But not quite so eager." 
     He was a lovely sight, naked and bound on his belly.  His
back bore the deep marks of her leather, and his firm,
well-rounded ass cheeks were blushing red.  Here and there on his
thighs were bruises where she had gripped him.  
     She sighed with pleasure, contemplating her captive.  His
body had a slim, delicate cast to it that was well matched by his
fair Elvish features, and it invited an owner's rough hands.  His
hair, long and pale, cascaded in a silver mane down his back. 
Drops of sweat beaded his creamy white skin.  Incongruously, she
thought that when she owned him, she would comb his hair and hang
it with jeweled chains. 
     He saw the look in her eyes. "I am eager, my lady." he said
to her softly.  His cock was not yet hard, not compelling him,
but he offered himself without reservation.  He could see that
she wanted him, as unworthy as he was, and he surrendered himself
to her strength.  He was her tribute, and her prize; and he was
proud to be so.  
     She laughed soundlessly, triumphant.  To Aeryk, she seemed
magnificent.  "Beg me." she commanded.  "Beg me to take you."
     "Please, my lady, take me.  I beg you."  With a swift
motion, Jenna unfastened the catches on her robe, and cast it
aside.  Her body was smooth with hardened muscle, though her
shape was very much female.  He was not surprised to see that she
had a light down of fur on her flanks in long, tigerlike streaks. 
     She turned him onto his back and crouched over him
possessively.  Her tongue inscribed concentric circles around his
nipples, lapping and tasting.   Surrendering himself utterly to
her pleasure, he moaned happily and offered her his stiffening
cock, his hips upthrust to meet her.  His nipples and groin
seemed on fire. 
     She bit him, and he groaned in pain and pleasure.  Her teeth
left a ring of tiny, bright drops on his chest.  "Beg me to fuck
you."  Jenna demanded.  She seized a handful of his pale hair,
jerking his head back.
     He felt an overwhelming rush of submission.  He was fit only
to be the slave of this woman crouching over him.  "Please fuck
me.  Fuck me!" he begged, lifting his hips. 
     Swiftly, she mounted him.  He cried out once, softly, as she
pressed her hips down.  "Fuck me!" he groaned, beyond restraint. 
"Take me....rape me....please...."  He threw his head from side
to side on the pillow, biting his lip.  His hips thrashed in an
uncontrollable rhythm.  She rode him like an unbroken colt, her
knees pressing hard against his sides.  In a few moments, he
arched and trembled, crying out his pleasure.  
     "Done already?" she inquired, barely breathing hard.  She
did not seem displeased. 
     He shook his head, gasping.  "No...I...I can do more."  He
moved his hips under her, straining.  
     She grinned, looking down at him with relish.  "I'd heard
that about your breed.  That'll raise your price by a few gold,
if I ever decide to sell you," she told him, and began to move on
him.  Once more, he cried out, squirming, after only a few
minutes.  "Again?" she queried, surprised.  He kept moving,
obviously still excited. 
     "Yes, my lady.  Again."  He moved against her sinuously,
sensuously, thrusting into her.  He was very hard. 
     Jenna looked at him unbelievingly.  "You should be a
pleasure slave, little Elf.  I didn't know you had it in you." 
She touched him lightly, still mounted.  He moaned and moved with
helpless abandon, thrusting hard. 
     She was beginning to get excited.  She drove her hips down
on him mercilessly, enjoying the sensation of his hard cock
filling her.  No longer the frightened captive, Aeryk was
responding like a slave bred for passion.  When his cries reached
new heights, she was ready for him, and let his release trigger
her own orgasm.  
     She looked down at him, satisfied.  His arms were bruised
where she had gripped him, lost in her pleasure.   He was still
hard inside her.  "More?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
     "Please, my lady.  Please, more."  She dismounted, leaving
him writhing.  "Please!" he begged, his hips bucking
involuntarily.  "I need.... please...."  He whispered into the
pillow, unwilling to anger her. 
     Working swiftly, she untied his wrists, shoving them down. 
"Touch yourself for me." she commanded.  He gulped.  His burning
need and his desire to please her quickly overcame his shyness,
and he began to stroke himself hesitantly.  "You can do better
than that."  She spoke sternly.  "Move your hips.  Moan.  Do it
sensuously." 
     Shamed, the young Elf obeyed.  He thrust his hips up,
pretending that his cupped hands were part of her.  "Touch me,
please...."  He surprised himself by begging. She pinched his
nipples to hear him gasp and increase his efforts.  He was
breathing hard, in quick pants.  "Please..." he moaned, not
knowing what he begged for, except to please her. She grabbed his
wrists, stopping him.  "I like to hear you beg." she told him. 
"Beg me to let you come."
     He whimpered, beyond shame.  His cock was painfully
engorged, and throbbed violently.  "Please, let me come.  I beg
to come!"
     She released his wrists, and put a hand in his hair.  He
pressed his cheek fervently to it, feeling her grip him.  "Come,
then."  She commanded, and he squeezed and stroked his shaft
until he thought it would explode with pent-up pleasure.  
     "I'm yours!" he gasped, as his cock began to spasm, jetting
short streams of sticky white.  His body jerked uncontrollably
under her hands.  "yours...." he whispered softly, wonderingly. 
He looked up at her, trembling.  "Yours." 
     His chest was covered in his own fluids, and she rubbed it
into the smooth skin of his belly, running her hands through its
warm slipperiness.  "Beautiful."  She regarded him
appreciatively.  "I could get six hundred for you, easy." 
     Aeryk looked up at her, pressing his cheek against her hand. 
"Don't sell me," he begged.  "Keep me.  Please keep me.  I'll
serve you well, I promise.  Please!"  He seemed incredibly
vulnerable, and helpless. 
     Jenna stroked him possessively, frowning at the thought that
someone else might buy and own him.   The intensity of her
feelings surprised her.  After all, he's just another slave, she
told herself firmly.  "I wasn't planning to sell you, little Elf. 
I was just appraising what you might be worth.  An old habit." 
She looked at him curiously.  "Do you know what you're saying?"  
     He nodded.  "I know."  He was perfectly serious. 
     "I was going to rape you and let you go, since you pleased
me.  After collecting what you stole from me, of course.  I think
I've been well recompensed for my trouble."  The mercenary woman
smiled easily.  He did not smile back.
     "Keep me." he said, catching one of her hands and holding
it.  Startled, she did not pull away.   He inclined his head
submissively, and his long, pale hair fell forward in a shower of
silver around her wrists.  Gently, he pressed his lips to her
hand.   "Please, my lady."  He seemed somehow more dignified than
he had a right to be, begging. 
     Jenna regarded him, astonished.  "You don't know what you're
asking.  You want to be a slave?"  
     Aeryk cringed from the scorn in her voice.  "I don't really
understand what it means to be a slave, but I know I want to be
yours.  If that means I am to be a slave, I accept that."  
     He lifted his head.  His eyes were the violet of the wine
she had bought last night, incandescent.  His gaze was clear, and
did not waver.  "I have been lonely, before, and hungry.  I have
been beaten before.  I have never been owned.  I have never had
someone to belong to."  He met her eyes with his own, no longer
pleading, but asking.  "I want to."   He felt more calm, more at
peace with himself, than he had in a long time.   
     Jenna looked at him for a long time with something akin to
awe.  "There are always choices," she said finally, and claimed
him in the firm grip of her arms.  Resting contentedly against
her, Aeryk thought he understood at last.