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JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/Ésotérisme/Astrologie

2026-06-14T06:31:24Z

Senua :

''TODO''

== Signes du zodiaque ==
Le zodiaque est un ensemble de douze signes. Chaque personnes s'en voit attribué deux, en fonction de son jour et son heure de naissance. Le signe principal est calculé en fonction du jour dans l'année, et l'ascendant en fonction de l'heure.

Chaque signe est associé à un élément (Lumière, Métal, Eau ou Bois) et est associé à deux mystères majeurs du Tarot des Roses.
{| class="wikitable"
!Signe
!Élément
! colspan="2" |Naissance
!Ascendant
!Lames de tarot correspondantes
|-
|Codex
|Lumière
|17 essame - 16 essose
|(33 jours)
|Minuit - 2h
|Guide
Sage
|-
|Roue
|Métal
|17 essose - 16 puriame
|(32 jours)
|2h - 4h
|Voyage
Force
|-
|Écaille
|Lumière
|17 puriame - 16 puriose
|(33 jours)
|4h - 6h
|Montagne
Tortue
|-
|Feuille
|Bois
|17 puriose - 16 harmiame
|(32 jours)
|6h - 8h
|Plogue
Rivière
|-
|Obole
|Eau
|17 harmiame - 16 harmiose
|(33 jours)
|8h - 10h
|Communauté
Mort
|-
|Hampe
|Bois
|17 harmiose - 16 espriame
|(32 jours)
|10h - 12h
|Agricultrice
Soldat
|-
|Étole
|Eau
|17 espriame - 16 espriose
|(33 jours)
|12h - 14h
|Éclésiastique
Médecin
|-
|Prisme
|Bois
|17 espriose - 16 ambiame
|(32 jours)
|14h - 16h
|Justice
Soleil
|-
|Plume
|Eau
|17 ambiame - 16 ambiose
|(33 jours)
|16h - 18h
|Cerisier
Corbeau
|-
|Croc
|Métal
|17 ambiose - 16 exiame
|(32 jours)
|18h - 20h
|Loup
Louve
|-
|Nuage
|Lumière
|17 exiame - 16 exiose
|(33 jours)
|20h - 22h
|Solitude
Tempérance
|-
|Rivet
|Métal
|17 exiose - 16 essame
|(32 jours)
|22h - Minuit
|Vagabonde
Artisan
|}
L'élément d'un signe est décidé ainsi :

* Si un signe compte 33 jours, alors c'est un signe céleste (Eau ou Lumière)
* Si un signe compte 32 jours, alors c'est un signe terrestre (Métal ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant le jour (entre 6h et 18h), alors c'est un signe vivant (Eau ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant la nuit (entre 18h et 6h), alors c'est un signe inerte (Lumière ou Métal)

=== Interprétation ===
Chaque signe agrègent deux cartes de tarot, dont elle sont la principale interprétation. Pour chaque signe et chaque ascendant, une des deux carte est considérée positive et l'autre négative.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/Ésotérisme/Astrologie

2026-06-14T06:29:15Z

Senua :

''TODO''

== Signes du zodiaque ==
Le zodiaque est un ensemble de douze signes. Chaque personnes s'en voit attribué deux, en fonction de son jour et son heure de naissance. Le signe principal est calculé en fonction du jour dans l'année, et l'ascendant en fonction de l'heure.

Chaque signe est associé à un élément (Lumière, Métal, Eau ou Bois) et est associé à deux lames majeures du Tarot des Roses.
{| class="wikitable"
!Signe
!Élément
! colspan="2" |Naissance
!Ascendant
!Lames de tarot correspondantes
|-
|Codex
|Lumière
|17 essame - 16 essose
|(33 jours)
|Minuit - 2h
|Guide
Sage
|-
|Roue
|Métal
|17 essose - 16 puriame
|(32 jours)
|2h - 4h
|Voyage
Force
|-
|Écaille
|Lumière
|17 puriame - 16 puriose
|(33 jours)
|4h - 6h
|Montagne
Tortue
|-
|Feuille
|Bois
|17 puriose - 16 harmiame
|(32 jours)
|6h - 8h
|Plogue
Rivière
|-
|Obole
|Eau
|17 harmiame - 16 harmiose
|(33 jours)
|8h - 10h
|Communauté
Mort
|-
|Hampe
|Bois
|17 harmiose - 16 espriame
|(32 jours)
|10h - 12h
|Agricultrice
Soldat
|-
|Étole
|Eau
|17 espriame - 16 espriose
|(33 jours)
|12h - 14h
|Éclésiastique
Médecin
|-
|Prisme
|Bois
|17 espriose - 16 ambiame
|(32 jours)
|14h - 16h
|Justice
Soleil
|-
|Plume
|Eau
|17 ambiame - 16 ambiose
|(33 jours)
|16h - 18h
|Cerisier
Corbeau
|-
|Croc
|Métal
|17 ambiose - 16 exiame
|(32 jours)
|18h - 20h
|Loup
Louve
|-
|Nuage
|Lumière
|17 exiame - 16 exiose
|(33 jours)
|20h - 22h
|Solitude
Tempérance
|-
|Rivet
|Métal
|17 exiose - 16 essame
|(32 jours)
|22h - Minuit
|Vagabonde
Artisan
|}
L'élément d'un signe est décidé ainsi :

* Si un signe compte 33 jours, alors c'est un signe céleste (Eau ou Lumière)
* Si un signe compte 32 jours, alors c'est un signe terrestre (Métal ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant le jour (entre 6h et 18h), alors c'est un signe vivant (Eau ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant la nuit (entre 18h et 6h), alors c'est un signe inerte (Lumière ou Métal)

=== Interprétation ===
Chaque signe agrègent deux cartes de tarot, dont elle sont la principale interprétation. Pour chaque signe et chaque ascendant, une des deux carte est considérée positive et l'autre négative.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/Ésotérisme/Astrologie

2026-06-14T06:28:06Z

Senua :

''TODO''

== Signes du zodiaque ==
Le zodiaque est un ensemble de douze signes. Chaque personnes s'en voit attribué deux, en fonction de son jour et son heure de naissance. Le signe principal est calculé en fonction du jour dans l'année, et l'ascendant en fonction de l'heure.
{| class="wikitable"
!Signe
!Élément
! colspan="2" |Naissance
!Ascendant
!Lames de tarot correspondantes
|-
|Codex
|Lumière
|17 essame - 16 essose
|(33 jours)
|Minuit - 2h
|Guide
Sage
|-
|Roue
|Métal
|17 essose - 16 puriame
|(32 jours)
|2h - 4h
|Voyage
Force
|-
|Écaille
|Lumière
|17 puriame - 16 puriose
|(33 jours)
|4h - 6h
|Montagne
Tortue
|-
|Feuille
|Bois
|17 puriose - 16 harmiame
|(32 jours)
|6h - 8h
|Plogue
Rivière
|-
|Obole
|Eau
|17 harmiame - 16 harmiose
|(33 jours)
|8h - 10h
|Communauté
Mort
|-
|Hampe
|Bois
|17 harmiose - 16 espriame
|(32 jours)
|10h - 12h
|Agricultrice
Soldat
|-
|Étole
|Eau
|17 espriame - 16 espriose
|(33 jours)
|12h - 14h
|Éclésiastique
Médecin
|-
|Prisme
|Bois
|17 espriose - 16 ambiame
|(32 jours)
|14h - 16h
|Justice
Soleil
|-
|Plume
|Eau
|17 ambiame - 16 ambiose
|(33 jours)
|16h - 18h
|Cerisier
Corbeau
|-
|Croc
|Métal
|17 ambiose - 16 exiame
|(32 jours)
|18h - 20h
|Loup
Louve
|-
|Nuage
|Lumière
|17 exiame - 16 exiose
|(33 jours)
|20h - 22h
|Solitude
Tempérance
|-
|Rivet
|Métal
|17 exiose - 16 essame
|(32 jours)
|22h - Minuit
|Vagabonde
Artisan
|}
L'élément d'un signe est décidé ainsi :

* Si un signe compte 33 jours, alors c'est un signe céleste (Eau ou Lumière)
* Si un signe compte 32 jours, alors c'est un signe terrestre (Métal ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant le jour (entre 6h et 18h), alors c'est un signe vivant (Eau ou Bois)
* Si un signe a son ascendant la nuit (entre 18h et 6h), alors c'est un signe inerte (Lumière ou Métal)

=== Interprétation ===
Chaque signe agrègent deux cartes de tarot, dont elle sont la principale interprétation. Pour chaque signe et chaque ascendant, une des deux carte est considérée positive et l'autre négative.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/Ésotérisme

2026-06-14T06:27:02Z

Senua :

Sur Rosarya, l'''ésotérisme'' renvoie à un ensemble de pratiques qui sont reconnues comme étant valides et fonctionnelles, mais qui ne peuvent, par nature, pas être étudiées scientifiquement.

Il s'agit concrètement de pratiques qui permettent de communiquer avec les dieux ou de connaître leur dessein, et qui nécessitent un apprentissage pour être maîtrisées.

L'ésotérisme a généralement attrait aux dieux d'en-haut.

* Le Tarot des Roses permet, entre autres, de pratiquer la cartomancie.
* L'astrologie est la pratique liée au mouvement des astres et de leur influence.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-11T05:46:00Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred gold."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understood it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things. Some investigator stuff.

Madam Kalista carries the thing as it was weightless, holding it with one leather strap over her shoulder. But as we walk through the low-class district in the heavy morning air of an ending dry season, she still is distracted. Paranoiac even. Her piercing eyes cast their gaze everywhere around us, detailing every passerby, scrutinizing every shadow, suspicion drawn by any weird noise.

I can't hold it anymore. I have to ask her what's going on.

"Is there something wr..."

She hushes me with an inquisitive finger, looking over her shoulder. A few seconds of silent observation pass until she whispers to me.

"Not now, bunny. It's dangerous. I need to stay on my toes. Let's head home, we'll figure out the rest later."

This was a strange errand we ran this morning. Nothing much to be noted, a few commission to get here and there —such as the magnifying machine— but nothing Madam couldn't have done herself. Or even I could have done on my own. I mean, I've already carried things much heavier on greater distances, so what was the point to go together.

We enter the central place of the low-class district. A familiar place I've seen dozens of times in the past weeks. Madam Kalista's house is near, at the border of the noble's neighborhood.

Now that I think about it, Madam Kalista has been real strange all day. It's her who woke me up in person, even before the sun was rising. She stayed with me the whole time, and now that I think about it...

Suddenly, my mind freezes. I realized —way too late— what indulged my mistress' behavior. It is right in front of us. Waiting for us, expecting us. With a smug, haughty smile.

Lady Morr.

It's today. Today's the end of the truce. She comes to claim her trophy slave back.

"Fuck."

Madam Kalista breathes out this single word, not in anger, but in resignation.

Lady Morr stares down at us, arms crossed, reveling in the silence that fell down on us all. By her side, the old tiefling Salista looks at us intently, with no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

Even the people of the district, feeling the electricity going on between the two naked ork ladies, draw a wide safety circle around us.

"I made my bet. And apparently I lost." tiredly said Madam Kalista.

Lady Morr, without uncrossing her arms nor departing her from her look of superiority, scoffs.

"Politics is a mind game, Kalista. Like many other things. You haven't changed much, during all this time. I can see right through any of your schemes."

The earth shakes as Madam Kalista heavily drops the delicate machinery she was carrying on the ground.

"Can you? My guess is it was pure luck."

Lady Morr can't help but openly laugh.

"Really? I ''knew'' you'd take Nasué out with you all morning to prevent me from attacking you in your home. I knew it before you even made the decision."

It's my mistress that scoffs at that answer.

"But I never made that decision."

Lady Morr squints her eyes. After a short silence, she asks:

"What do you mean?"

Madam Kalista shrugs. "Exactly what I said. I ''did not'' make the decision to take Nasué out today."

Lady Morr finally uncrosses her arms and put her two upset fists on her hips.

"Then who did?"

A clear *plink* sound is heard, and before Lady Morr, in the dust, lands a coin.

"Chance."

Lady Morr seems more and more upset. She casts an angry look at her ex-partner.

"You see, Morr. Not everything is under your control. You're too arrogant to realize that the world does not revolves around you. I already said it, but this will be your doom."

Lady Morr seems incredulous. "You betted your ownership of Nasué over a fifty-fifty chance?"

Madam Kalista frowns. "Stop me if I'm mistaken, darling, but Nasué is not your yet."

She then flexes all the muscles of her body at one, sending small droplets of sweat all round her.

"You still have to take her from me."

Lady Morr streches her arms, then take a fighting stance.

"A formality."

Then, in a collision that makes all the district shake, the only two woman who ever cared for me and whom I ever cared about throw themselves at each other in a sex-fight that will decide my future — and probably the future of the city.

I have to close my eye not to be blinded by the impact. Not that it is peculiarly blinding, but seeing my two mistresses colliding in anger is too much for me to watch.

All the people of the place is gathered —at a good distance— to witness the fight. Word probably goes by, because their numbers seem to increase with each passing minute.

Their fight is hard, they clearly match in strength, and they know each other well enough to counter every technique they each use.

This will be a battle of the mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't take one of your infamous concoctions, ''Aphromesser''."

"Humph, I don't need to drug to beat you, you failed noble."

"Really? Because it seems like you struggle more than you announced."

For now, this looks just like wrestling. I don't know if it's their pride or something else, but they both want to top, and none of them is willing to go bottom. Which is unusual. Being top doesn't mean it's easier to win, and in most sex-fight the top/bottom positions change with time.

But for them, it looks important. They try to topple their opponent, to overcome the strength of the other, to take domination. It's probable that the one that will be dominant both in mind and in strength will win.

But that may take a long time.

"You can tell, right? That Nasué is happier with me."

"Ha! If you think this is her happy face, then you ''really'' don't know her."

I do not take offense at their words. I even barely hear them. I'm just too anxious. Who will win? With whom will I spend the rest of my days?

"It's time, Nasué."

The voice of Salista at my ear makes me jump. I forgot she was here.

"It's time to make your choice."

I look at her. Her empty eyes are directed at the fight, but she doesn't seem to watch.

"Make a choice? What do you mean?"

She sighs. "You still don't get it? Even as I already told you?"

Before my dumb silence, she sighs again. "Who do you want to spend the rest of your slavery with?"

I don't know. "With the winner. It's not like as if I had a choice."

"But you do, Nasué. You even have ''power'', right now."

I don't understand a thing. "Power?"

"Yes. Look at them. Don't you get it? They are fighting for you. They both need you. They both ''want'' you. Whoever you cheer for will be the winner."

I look at the two giantess fighting for me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. As soon as you make your choice heard, the one you didn't choose will lose her composure and her determination. And thus, she will lose the fight."

She then looks at me with a piercing gaze. "Believe me. I know them both well."

Her eyes tell the truth. I know it. Indeed, I can make the scales tip to whichever side I wish.

"But... Is it my place to decide?"

"It is your ''duty'' to decide. Nasué, if you don't chose, then whoever win or lose, that won't change a thing. They will continue their quarrel, their will continue to put spokes in each other's wheels. And none of their plans will work. If you chose, then the loser will now she has truly lost, and withdraw herself. Then, the winner's projects will have a chance to be successful."

The reality of the situation is dawning on me. I feel panic birth inside my chest at the sole idea of ''chosing''.

"But who do I chose? The one whose plan is the best? Which one is it?"

Salista shrugs. "I don't know. You're the only one who knows both of their plans."

I stay there, looking at the two ork women fighting.

Then, Salista add: "Though I don't think you should chose the winner as per which plan is better."

I look at her. I see behind her empty eyes the experience of a life. She is old, she has served both ladies when they were together. Maybe she even has been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment when they finally, completely, separate from each other. I don't know.

I look at my mistresses. Image of my servitude with both of them stir in my brain. I liked them both, for different reasons.

"Should I chose with my heart then?"

Salista doesn't say a word, but I can feel her assent.

"Alright then."

A bit dizzy by the weight of all this, I step forward. The two ladies don't notice my approach. So I get a little bit closer, and then, at the top of my lung, I shout:

"ENOUGH!"

I feel my cheeks get red from an anger that was slowly building up for weeks and that I didn't know existed.

"Do you even care for me? Do you realize how petty you both are?"

The audience gasps. Kalista raises her eyebrows and Morr frowns. By standing up like this, I'm writing history here. Or maybe I'm just dooming myself to a slow death for rebelling against my mistresses. But I don't really care. This unprecedented anger is blinding me.

"But most of all: do you realize you are sabotaging yourself because of your dumb quarrel?"

I stomp the dusty ground with each sentence. I'm way out of my place, but strangely, everyone listens to me with attention.

"Do you even realize you have the same goal? That your respective plans are basically the same?"

I turn to Morr.

"You! Your plan is to legally grant citizenship to the slaves, and to convince the council you said it would make the sex-fighting scene more lively and more meritocratic, while claiming that it would never break the wall separating the classes —in other words, more competitiveness for the lower class, while the upper class stays safe. But it's all lies! You don't care about the status quo ''at all'', because you're the best. You only want this to grant citizenship to ''one specific slave''..."

She grunts, not happy that I reveal this in public, but it is an open secret, the information have leaked a few weeks back.

I then turn to Kalista.

"And you! Breaking the status quo is ''specificly'' what you're aiming to! Everyone understood that years ago! You hope slaves will intrinsically get more rights if the frontier between the classes get blurred out. And we both know for who you want it!"

I open my arms to put emphasis on the obvious.

"You're the same! The fucking same! Breaking the status quo and giving more right to the slaves! And for the same fucking person!"

"It's not the only reason." Morr grunts.

I dismiss her response with a hand. "Yes, I know. You'd also benefit from having more citizens and slaves being more independent. But I know it's not the first reason you're doing it. And don't deny it!"

She falls silent. I pant from shouting so loud.

"And you know what's the worst?" I add. "It's that if you worked together, you would have succeeded years ago!"

They both look at each other in disgust.

"We could never work together anymore. It wouldn't work. There nothing we have in common anymore."

That answer really, ''really'' pisses me off.

"YES YOU DO! ME!"

They look at me, incredulous.

"What do you mean, bunny?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. I've said it all, I spoke with my heart, and now the anger is leaving to be replaced by bitterness.

"I love you both," I manage to say with tears in my eyes, "and see how you both love me and —most importantly— Ashby. I want you both to succeed, for their sake. And for mine?"

The tears run down my cheeks.

"I can't chose between you two. And I don't want to. Because you both are loving mothers. I want to spend the rest of my days with you two."

They look at each other again, but this time with a hint of hindsight. My words seem to have shaken them, and thankfully they seem to have put their feud aside.

It's Morr who raises her voice again.

"But, Nasué, you know we can't. It is not possible for us to both be your mistresses."

I dry my tear with the back of my wrist, then I gaze deep into her eyes.

"And why the fuck not? You want to break the status quo, don't you? You want to change the rules? Then do it. Commit to your beliefs 'till the end. You know no one can stop you."

Morr has her eyes wide. She is stunned by my logic.

Kalista turns to her and shrugs.

"You know, why not after all? I know it's not how you like to do things, but she's a got a point. Several, even."

Morr scratches her chin, pensive. "I'll be damned, it could work. It is ''technically'' not against the law, I could work out a loophole. And the worst of all is..." Her gaze go between Kalista a me few times. "... I kind of like the idea."

I am dumbfounded. I didn't really expect them to agree so fast.

"Wait... Really?" I ask.

Mistress Morr shrugs. "Indeed. I know Kalista is a good mistress for you. And I don't really mind sharing custody. I don't need you every hour of every day. And the benefits of this little stunt would be huge."

Madam Kalista stretches her arms upward. "And I'm personally tired of our little squabbling. I could really go for us being neutral to each other for a while."

A low murmur roams in the crowd. They don't understand what's going on. They are disappointed with the fight being interrupted. They are beginning to feel angry...

Madam Kalista looks around, then concludes: "Well, I think we'll have to put on a show for them, to landmark the clinched deal between us three."

Mistress Morr agrees. "Indeed. I can take them on, but I don't want to risk Nasué being wounded by the mob if we fall behind their expectancies."

I fail to get the hint, and look at them with my signature dumb face.

"Well?" Kalista says, leaning a hand toward me, "don't you want to be honored by both your mistresses?"

I'm thrilled at the anticipation of being fucked by the two person I respect the most. I clumsily approach them, waiting to be guided by these two diametrically opposite tops. I take Madam Kalista hand and let myself be guided by the two of them, only to feel my hair being pulled frantically backwards by Mistress Morr.

"You cunt. Talking to me like that. I'll make you regret it."

I trip and fall on my back. The pain in my spine and in my scalp is delicious. It's been almost two month since I've been properly punished, and I can't wait to feel my mistress' anger bruising my body.

"You're talented, little bunny," says Madam while stroking my outer thighs, "but that's no way to talk to your mistresses. She indeed ought to punish you. Are you prepared?"

I nod while saying, with all my heart, "Yes!"

Mistress steps on my hair, pinning my head to the ground.

"Throwing a tantrum like that? In front of a crowd? You are lucky I always make a point not to scar my slaves, you know that?"

I nod again. The anticipation makes my members tremble. It's not helping that Madam is now caressing my inner thighs and my pubis, strategically avoiding my most erogenous parts.

"You are enjoying this too much, little bunny. Will that punishment even have any effect on you?"

...

...

...

When I come back to my senses, I am softly nested into Madam Kalista's arms. The crowd has disbanded, we are alone in a corner of the place. Mistress Morr sits beside us, whispering at Salista's ear. As soon as she sees I'm awake, she dismisses the tiefling and speaks to us.

"Kalista, we'll need to organize ourselves for the custody. May I suggest we switch every week? I can organize my agenda around if that's good with you. I'll let you take the first shift, of course. Is that good with you?"

Madam Kalista, as sole answer, hums while stroking my hair.

"Perfect then." Mistress Morr stands up. "I'll see you both next week. Nasué, we were perfect, as always. I rekon on having you back at the mansion. Until then, take care."

And she leaves, as gracious as she always is.

As soon as we are all alone, Madam Kalista smiles at me.

"Good graces, I never would have imagined today would have gone this way. Well done, little bunny. You truly are amazing."

I smugly smile back. "I said it before: don't underestimate me."
----A few months have passed. The rainy season is ending, and I'm checking the plants of my garden for pests.

My house is not big, but it's mine and I love it. It was a gift from both my mistresses when we slaves were finally granted the status of citizen.

I'm still a slave, of course, but only because I love it. Most slaves today are people in need and people who like being in this position — which is more than I first suspected. Nothing much as changed beside than. Only a handful of non-orks have reached the rank of lower-class citizen, and a only a few of former-slaves have found the means to leave the city. But, from time to time, we can see a slave ork, or a non-ork holding a shop. This newly acquired citizenship allows us to own land, to have our own businesses. In short, we gained a bit of independence, which for most makes the status of slave a little easier to endure.

A passerby spites on my face. My garden has no fence, and from time to time a spiteful ork decides to humiliate me.

This time, though, they shouldn't have. A tall half-ork saw the scene and came running to punch them in the face, sending them flying.

"Ashby!" I shout when I see them. "It's been too long! How've you been? Want some coffee?"

They smile while massaging their fist. They are taking courses to become a lawyer. At first, they were not very welcome, but soon their talent forced respect upon them.

"Are you not with your mistresses?" They ask once we are sit inside.

I shake "Nah. Today's off. When none of them need me, they allow me to come back home to take care of my plants."

They lightly laugh. "Does it happen often?"

I shrug. "Not that much. Not often enough for me to get bored, at least. That's all I ask for."

While the discussion goes on, my eyes linger around the house. It's hard to believe I own it. I feel fancy. A fancy slave.

The best thing is, I've never felt this happy before. Mistress Morr uses me to seduce her patron and to show off in public, while giving me the painfullest punishments for every small fault I commit, and Madam Kalista is soft, tender with me, valuing my hard work and letting me pleasure her whenever I feel, which is a lot.

I'm so happy I'm a slave.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-11T05:44:14Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred gold."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understood it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things. Some investigator stuff.

Madam Kalista carries the thing as it was weightless, holding it with one leather strap over her shoulder. But as we walk through the low-class district in the heavy morning air of an ending dry season, she still is distracted. Paranoiac even. Her piercing eyes cast their gaze everywhere around us, detailing every passerby, scrutinizing every shadow, suspicion drawn by any weird noise.

I can't hold it anymore. I have to ask her what's going on.

"Is there something wr..."

She hushes me with an inquisitive finger, looking over her shoulder. A few seconds of silent observation pass until she whispers to me.

"Not now, bunny. It's dangerous. I need to stay on my toes. Let's head home, we'll figure out the rest later."

This was a strange errand we ran this morning. Nothing much to be noted, a few commission to get here and there —such as the magnifying machine— but nothing Madam couldn't have done herself. Or even I could have done on my own. I mean, I've already carried things much heavier on greater distances, so what was the point to go together.

We enter the central place of the low-class district. A familiar place I've seen dozens of times in the past weeks. Madam Kalista's house is near, at the border of the noble's neighborhood.

Now that I think about it, Madam Kalista has been real strange all day. It's her who woke me up in person, even before the sun was rising. She stayed with me the whole time, and now that I think about it...

Suddenly, my mind freezes. I realized —way too late— what indulged my mistress' behavior. It is right in front of us. Waiting for us, expecting us. With a smug, haughty smile.

Lady Morr.

It's today. Today's the end of the truce. She comes to claim her trophy slave back.

"Fuck."

Madam Kalista breathes out this single word, not in anger, but in resignation.

Lady Morr stares down at us, arms crossed, reveling in the silence that fell down on us all. By her side, the old tiefling Salista looks at us intently, with no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

Even the people of the district, feeling the electricity going on between the two naked ork ladies, draw a wide safety circle around us.

"I made my bet. And apparently I lost." tiredly said Madam Kalista.

Lady Morr, without uncrossing her arms nor departing her from her look of superiority, scoffs.

"Politics is a mind game, Kalista. Like many other things. You haven't changed much, during all this time. I can see right through any of your schemes."

The earth shakes as Madam Kalista heavily drops the delicate machinery she was carrying on the ground.

"Can you? My guess is it was pure luck."

Lady Morr can't help but openly laugh.

"Really? I ''knew'' you'd take Nasué out with you all morning to prevent me from attacking you in your home. I knew it before you even made the decision."

It's my mistress that scoffs at that answer.

"But I never made that decision."

Lady Morr squints her eyes. After a short silence, she asks:

"What do you mean?"

Madam Kalista shrugs. "Exactly what I said. I ''did not'' make the decision to take Nasué out today."

Lady Morr finally uncrosses her arms and put her two upset fists on her hips.

"Then who did?"

A clear *plink* sound is heard, and before Lady Morr, in the dust, lands a coin.

"Chance."

Lady Morr seems more and more upset. She casts an angry look at her ex-partner.

"You see, Morr. Not everything is under your control. You're too arrogant to realize that the world does not revolves around you. I already said it, but this will be your doom."

Lady Morr seems incredulous. "You betted your ownership of Nasué over a fifty-fifty chance?"

Madam Kalista frowns. "Stop me if I'm mistaken, darling, but Nasué is not your yet."

She then flexes all the muscles of her body at one, sending small droplets of sweat all round her.

"You still have to take her from me."

Lady Morr streches her arms, then take a fighting stance.

"A formality."

Then, in a collision that makes all the district shake, the only two woman who ever cared for me and whom I ever cared about throw themselves at each other in a sex-fight that will decide my future — and probably the future of the city.

I have to close my eye not to be blinded by the impact. Not that it is peculiarly blinding, but seeing my two mistresses colliding in anger is too much for me to watch.

All the people of the place is gathered —at a good distance— to witness the fight. Word probably goes by, because their numbers seem to increase with each passing minute.

Their fight is hard, they clearly match in strength, and they know each other well enough to counter every technique they each use.

This will be a battle of the mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't take one of your infamous concoctions, ''Aphromesser''."

"Humph, I don't need to drug to beat you, you failed noble."

"Really? Because it seems like you struggle more than you announced."

For now, this looks just like wrestling. I don't know if it's their pride or something else, but they both want to top, and none of them is willing to go bottom. Which is unusual. Being top doesn't mean it's easier to win, and in most sex-fight the top/bottom positions change with time.

But for them, it looks important. They try to topple their opponent, to overcome the strength of the other, to take domination. It's probable that the one that will be dominant both in mind and in strength will win.

But that may take a long time.

"You can tell, right? That Nasué is happier with me."

"Ha! If you think this is her happy face, then you ''really'' don't know her."

I do not take offense at their words. I even barely hear them. I'm just too anxious. Who will win? With whom will I spend the rest of my days?

"It's time, Nasué."

The voice of Salista at my ear makes me jump. I forgot she was here.

"It's time to make your choice."

I look at her. Her empty eyes are directed at the fight, but she doesn't seem to watch.

"Make a choice? What do you mean?"

She sighs. "You still don't get it? Even as I already told you?"

Before my dumb silence, she sighs again. "Who do you want to spend the rest of your slavery with?"

I don't know. "With the winner. It's not like as if I had a choice."

"But you do, Nasué. You even have ''power'', right now."

I don't understand a thing. "Power?"

"Yes. Look at them. Don't you get it? They are fighting for you. They both need you. They both ''want'' you. Whoever you cheer for will be the winner."

I look at the two giantess fighting for me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. As soon as you make your choice heard, the one you didn't choose will lose her composure and her determination. And thus, she will lose the fight."

She then looks at me with a piercing gaze. "Believe me. I know them both well."

Her eyes tell the truth. I know it. Indeed, I can make the scales tip to whichever side I wish.

"But... Is it my place to decide?"

"It is your ''duty'' to decide. Nasué, if you don't chose, then whoever win or lose, that won't change a thing. They will continue their quarrel, their will continue to put spokes in each other's wheels. And none of their plans will work. If you chose, then the loser will now she has truly lost, and withdraw herself. Then, the winner's projects will have a chance to be successful."

The reality of the situation is dawning on me. I feel panic birth inside my chest at the sole idea of ''chosing''.

"But who do I chose? The one whose plan is the best? Which one is it?"

Salista shrugs. "I don't know. You're the only one who knows both of their plans."

I stay there, looking at the two ork women fighting.

Then, Salista add: "Though I don't think you should chose the winner as per which plan is better."

I look at her. I see behind her empty eyes the experience of a life. She is old, she has served both ladies when they were together. Maybe she even has been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment when they finally, completely, separate from each other. I don't know.

I look at my mistresses. Image of my servitude with both of them stir in my brain. I liked them both, for different reasons.

"Should I chose with my heart then?"

Salista doesn't say a word, but I can feel her assent.

"Alright then."

A bit dizzy by the weight of all this, I step forward. The two ladies don't notice my approach. So I get a little bit closer, and then, at the top of my lung, I shout:

"ENOUGH!"

I feel my cheeks get red from an anger that was slowly building up for weeks and that I didn't know existed.

"Do you even care for me? Do you realize how petty you both are?"

The audience gasps. Kalista raises her eyebrows and Morr frowns. By standing up like this, I'm writing history here. Or maybe I'm just dooming myself to a slow death for rebelling against my mistresses. But I don't really care. This unprecedented anger is blinding me.

"But most of all: do you realize you are sabotaging yourself because of your dumb quarrel?"

I stomp the dusty ground with each sentence. I'm way out of my place, but strangely, everyone listens to me with attention.

"Do you even realize you have the same goal? That your respective plans are basically the same?"

I turn to Morr.

"You! Your plan is to legally grant citizenship to the slaves, and to convince the council you said it would make the sex-fighting scene more lively and more meritocratic, while claiming that it would never break the wall separating the classes —in other words, more competitiveness for the lower class, while the upper class stays safe. But it's all lies! You don't care about the status quo ''at all'', because you're the best. You only want this to grant citizenship to ''one specific slave''..."

She grunts, not happy that I reveal this in public, but it is an open secret, the information have leaked a few weeks back.

I then turn to Kalista.

"And you! Breaking the status quo is ''specificly'' what you're aiming to! Everyone understood that years ago! You hope slaves will intrinsically get more rights if the frontier between the classes get blurred out. And we both know for who you want it!"

I open my arms to put emphasis on the obvious.

"You're the same! The fucking same! Breaking the status quo and giving more right to the slaves! And for the same fucking person!"

"It's not the only reason." Morr grunts.

I dismiss her response with a hand. "Yes, I know. You'd also benefit from having more citizens and slaves being more independent. But I know it's not the first reason you're doing it. And don't deny it!"

She falls silent. I pant from shouting so loud.

"And you know what's the worst?" I add. "It's that if you worked together, you would have succeeded years ago!"

They both look at each other in disgust.

"We could never work together anymore. It wouldn't work. There nothing we have in common anymore."

That answer really, ''really'' pisses me off.

"YES YOU DO! ME!"

They look at me, incredulous.

"What do you mean, bunny?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. I've said it all, I spoke with my heart, and now the anger is leaving to be replaced by bitterness.

"I love you both," I manage to say with tears in my eyes, "and see how you both love me and —most importantly— Ashby. I want you both to succeed, for their sake. And for mine?"

The tears run down my cheeks.

"I can't chose between you two. And I don't want to. Because you both are loving mothers. I want to spend the rest of my days with you two."

They look at each other again, but this time with a hint of hindsight. My words seem to have shaken them, and thankfully they seem to have put their feud aside.

It's Morr who raises her voice again.

"But, Nasué, you know we can't. It is not possible for us to both be your mistresses."

I dry my tear with the back of my wrist, then I gaze deep into her eyes.

"And why the fuck not? You want to break the status quo, don't you? You want to change the rules? Then do it. Commit to your beliefs 'till the end. You know no one can stop you."

Morr has her eyes wide. She is stunned by my logic.

Kalista turns to her and shrugs.

"You know, why not after all? I know it's not how you like to do things, but she's a got a point. Several, even."

Morr scratches her chin, pensive. "I'll be damned, it could work. It is ''technically'' not against the law, I could work out a loophole. And the worst of all is..." Her gaze go between Kalista a me few times. "... I kind of like the idea."

I am dumbfounded. I didn't really expect them to agree so fast.

"Wait... Really?" I ask.

Mistress Morr shrugs. "Indeed. I know Kalista is a good mistress for you. And I don't really mind sharing custody. I don't need you every hour of every day. And the benefits of this little stunt would be huge."

Madam Kalista stretches her arms upward. "And I'm personally tired of our little squabbling. I could really go for us being neutral to each other for a while."

A low murmur roams in the crowd. They don't understand what's going on. They are disappointed with the fight being interrupted. They are beginning to feel angry...

Madam Kalista looks around, then concludes: "Well, I think we'll have to put on a show for them, to landmark the clinched deal between us three."

Mistress Morr agrees. "Indeed. I can take them on, but I don't want to risk Nasué being wounded by the mob if we fall behind their expectancies."

I fail to get the hint, and look at them with my signature dumb face.

"Well?" Kalista says, leaning a hand toward me, "don't you want to be honored by both your mistresses?"

I'm thrilled at the anticipation of being fucked by the two person I respect the most. I clumsily approach them, waiting to be guided by these two diametrically opposite tops. I take Madam Kalista hand and let myself be guided by the two of them, only to feel my hair being pulled frantically backwards by Mistress Morr.

"You cunt. Talking to me like that. I'll make you regret it."

I trip and fall on my back. The pain in my spine and in my scalp is delicious. It's been almost two month since I've been properly punished, and I can't wait to feel my mistress' anger bruising my body.

"You're talented, little bunny," says Madam while stroking my outer thighs, "but that's no way to talk to your mistresses. She indeed ought to punish you. Are you prepared?"

I nod while saying, with all my heart, "Yes!"

Mistress steps on my hair, pinning my head to the ground.

"Throwing a tantrum like that? In front of a crowd? You are lucky I always make a point not to scar my slaves, you know that?"

I nod again. The anticipation makes my members tremble. It's not helping that Madam is now caressing my inner thighs and my pubis, strategically avoiding my most erogenous parts.

...

...

...

When I come back to my senses, I am softly nested into Madam Kalista's arms. The crowd has disbanded, we are alone in a corner of the place. Mistress Morr sits beside us, whispering at Salista's ear. As soon as she sees I'm awake, she dismisses the tiefling and speaks to us.

"Kalista, we'll need to organize ourselves for the custody. May I suggest we switch every week? I can organize my agenda around if that's good with you. I'll let you take the first shift, of course. Is that good with you?"

Madam Kalista, as sole answer, hums while stroking my hair.

"Perfect then." Mistress Morr stands up. "I'll see you both next week. Nasué, we were perfect, as always. I rekon on having you back at the mansion. Until then, take care."

And she leaves, as gracious as she always is.

As soon as we are all alone, Madam Kalista smiles at me.

"Good graces, I never would have imagined today would have gone this way. Well done, little bunny. You truly are amazing."

I smugly smile back. "I said it before: don't underestimate me."
----A few months have passed. The rainy season is ending, and I'm checking the plants of my garden for pests.

My house is not big, but it's mine and I love it. It was a gift from both my mistresses when we slaves were finally granted the status of citizen.

I'm still a slave, of course, but only because I love it. Most slaves today are people in need and people who like being in this position — which is more than I first suspected. Nothing much as changed beside than. Only a handful of non-orks have reached the rank of lower-class citizen, and a only a few of former-slaves have found the means to leave the city. But, from time to time, we can see a slave ork, or a non-ork holding a shop. This newly acquired citizenship allows us to own land, to have our own businesses. In short, we gained a bit of independence, which for most makes the status of slave a little easier to endure.

A passerby spites on my face. My garden has no fence, and from time to time a spiteful ork decides to humiliate me.

This time, though, they shouldn't have. A tall half-ork saw the scene and came running to punch them in the face, sending them flying.

"Ashby!" I shout when I see them. "It's been too long! How've you been? Want some coffee?"

They smile while massaging their fist. They are taking courses to become a lawyer. At first, they were not very welcome, but soon their talent forced respect upon them.

"Are you not with your mistresses?" They ask once we are sit inside.

I shake "Nah. Today's off. When none of them need me, they allow me to come back home to take care of my plants."

They lightly laugh. "Does it happen often?"

I shrug. "Not that much. Not often enough for me to get bored, at least. That's all I ask for."

While the discussion goes on, my eyes linger around the house. It's hard to believe I own it. I feel fancy. A fancy slave.

The best thing is, I've never felt this happy before. Mistress Morr uses me to seduce her patron and to show off in public, while giving me the painfullest punishments for every small fault I commit, and Madam Kalista is soft, tender with me, valuing my hard work and letting me pleasure her whenever I feel, which is a lot.

I'm so happy I'm a slave.

Catégorie:Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave

2026-06-11T05:25:36Z

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Catégorie:Littérature:Smut/A Rose for my Valentine

2026-06-11T05:25:02Z

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Littérature:Smut/A Rose for my Valentine/1 - Bed of thorns

2026-06-11T05:24:43Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Bed of thorns
| livre = A Rose for my Valentine
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Publié
}}

''Description: Rosa Diaz tries to shatter Jill Valentine's hard shell. Will she be able to break down the strong cop? (Well, obviously, or else this crossover wouldn't exist.)''

''I've wanted to do a scene like this with Rosa for a while, and even wrote a half-ass draft somewhere with an OC. The problem is, an OC here seems really pointless (I mean, how can I introduce her without being boring?). So I tried to find another female cop to do a crossover with (no one in Brooklyn-99 would fit what I sought). Jill Valentine was the perfect candidate, but unfortunately it's not a character that is much developed in the OGs. So I'm sorry if she seems a little OOC sometimes.''
----Shaw's bar was the place of choice for the 99th precinct to celebrate almost anything. That night marked the end of the first Halloween Heist and the celebration of Jake's victory. But for this glorious success, he had to thank Jill Valentine, the newly transferred cop, who helped him in exchange for a week's worth of paperwork.

Everyone was celebrating, shouting, laughing, and fighting, except Jill herself, who used this commotion to draw herself nearer to the bar and enjoy a lone beer.

After a short while, she heard a familiar voice from behind.

"What are you doing back there?"

It was Rosa, who seemingly noticed her escape.

Jill waved her half-drunk beer around. "What do you want me to do? Cheer up like a child? I've won, been dragged here by my teammate who wanted to celebrate like it was the greatest achievement of his life, so the only thing for me left to do is drink a bit alone, then go home." She pointed at her bottle. "Want one?"

Rosa raised an eyebrow slightly before shaking her head.

"Uh-huh," she said dryly, crossing her arms, eyeing the ex-STARS.

Jill frowned. "What?"

"I don't buy it. You seem tense. This isn't like you."

With a lazy gesture, Jill ordered a beer for her fellow policewoman.

"I'm still mad about the STARS dissolution. Political maneuvers ain't good for public safety. No offense, but being a detective is a straight-up downgrade for me. In these past three months, the most interesting thing I did was helping Perralta win his little game. So yeah, I'm bummed out."

Rosa, arms still crossed, leaned against the counter to meet her eyes.

"Cut the crap. You don't suddenly feel down because your team was disbanded several months ago. There's something else."

Jill took a slow sip from her beer, then sighed.

"Well, I told you, I fricking am lonely here, and it's beginning to eat me at my core. I got almost no action on the field, I don't feel like I have an impact on anything anymore, and I can't even remember the last time I went on a date with a woman."

Rosa cast a half-smile at her.

"Got a lot of pussy in the special force?"

Jill took the question first-degree and shook her head. "From time to time, but not really. I was busy. But not anymore. The point is, if I don't have any action, I need some ''action''."

The barman brought the ordered beer. Rosa took it without getting her eyes off her coworker, watching her empty her bottle and ordering yet another.

"I can't imagine ''you'' not being able to pull off a date."

Then, something quite surprising occurred. Jill ''flushed''. It was just a little, and probably due more to the alcohol than the compliment, but Rosa couldn't be mistaken. Her cheeks went insensibly rosier. She ''flushed''.

"Well, yeah..." Jill answered. "And it's not that surprising. When I meet a woman, she expects a strong top that has everything for herself, just because I carry a gun and I wear my tank tops like I am fresh out of the gym. But the truth is..."

She took a long sip, delaying the words. Rosa waited in silence, almost amused to see the bold cop lose her words for the first time ever.

"The truth is, I need care."

What. The. Fuck. The fucking special ops soldier, needing care. Rosa's smile deepened, she had to mouth a ''<nowiki/>'wow''' to prevent herself from laughing at her face.

"Crap. Sorry." Jill added. "I don't want to bother you with my emotional crap. I must be getting a little drunk."

Rosa's eyebrows raised. She needed to know more.

"So your confident behavior is a facade, huh? Deep down, you're clingy, lonely, and submissive?"

Jill took a defensive stance at these words, straightening her back and furrowing her brows.

"Relax," Rosa added. "I'm not making fun of you. Hell, I like this side of you even more."

Jill chuckled. "What now, you must be happy that you're the only real tough girl in the squad, aren't you? Congrats, you saw through me, you've won. Leave me alone."

But Rosa didn't move.

"Sorry," Jill added after a while. "I know that's not what you meant. Thanks for listening to my ranting. I just don't know what to do with myself anymore."

A second beer was brought to her, which she raised to her eyes. "Except drink alone until the end of the night, then put my facade on again and go back to the same old routine the morning after."

Rosa rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smirk appeared on her face.

"Shut up. First of all, I'm the toughest, no contest. Second, you seriously need someone to put you in your place. Remind you to take care of yourself. You're bullshit if you think this behavior will take you anywhere. I'm surprised you even survived this long in the STARS."

Jill frowned and raised her voice. "Well sorry, miss-toughest. This is who I am, I need an anchor at home so I can put up a strong face at work. It was easy in the STARS, because there was always something ''impactful'' to do. I could forget I was human when I fought off monsters. But since it got taken down, I'm just a shadow of myself. And there's nothing you can do about it, so scram."

Rosa took a step closer to her.

"You wanna bet? I'm sure you'd do anything I tell you. I can see that behind that mask you're a submissive little princess."

Jill stood up, closing the distance between them even more.

"Careful, Diaz. You may not want to go down that slope. Because if you fuck with me, I'll make you pay. ''Hard''."

Rosa's smirk widened as she could finally see through her facade. Jill was trying to get back in her tough character, but her demeanor betrayed the desire that began to awake deep inside her: a slightly short breath, a hand clenching hard on the side of the counter, and a little spark in her eyes.

"Pfft. Oh yeah? I'd like you try and make me pay, ''sweetheart."'' She slightly leaned toward her to whisper. "You're all bark, no bite."

Jill, realizing all these little tells her body was giving, finally regained her full composure. She wanted to play it this way? Might as well play along.

She whispered back to her ear. "The only way to make me bark ''is'' to bite me, ''dear''. You sure you can handle me? Because tougher ones have lost their teeth trying."

Rosa didn't back down from the challenge — in fact, she leaned even closer, lips almost touching her ear.

"Big words from someone who just admitted she ''needs'' to be taken care of. You're soft at the core, Valentine. I'll make you beg before you even realize you need me that bad."

She backed her head just enough to lock her big black eyes into Jill's.

"So tell me, do you actually want me to ''bite'', or are you still pretending?"

A long silence followed the question, both staring at each other. Rosa's dagger eyes were penetrating, and it was hard for Jill not to crack.

Jill eventually gave in and averted her gaze. She detailed Rosa's outfit, the black jeans held at her thin waist by a belt in which her thumbs were always locked in when she was in a dominance stance, her signature leather jacket slightly reeking of the sweet smell of gasoline, her simple make-up, her plump lips...

"I'm always serious about biting," she finally said. She didn't even realize she was panting from the pressure Rosa exerted on her. "And you're right, I'm soft to the core. But mark my words: if you fail to break my shell, ''you''<nowiki/>'ll be the one who ends up scarred. Physically ''and'' emotionally. Happened to many before you, and will happen to many after. So if you're gonna take up the challenge, take it seriously."

Rosa couldn't help but smile widely at the defeated threat Jill threw at her.

"Oh, I'm as serious as it gets, honey''."''

She then stepped forward, so close that she basically pressed her body against Jill's. The ex-STARS could feel her warm breath against her skin as Rosa reached up and caressed her neck, fingers tracing across her collarbone.

"Gonna shatter that shell of yours and make myself a home of your soft little core. You'll be begging on your knees for more by the time I'm done with you."

The contact between Rosa's fingers and Jill's soft skin was what broke the first layer of said shell. She felt her legs weaken, and the strong mask she displayed faded. She couldn't prevent a smile from breaking on her lips at the prospect of Rosa touching ''more'' of her. She finally realized that she had —maybe— found the partner she waited for all these months, and a faint urge to drop to her knees and beg Rosa to 'take care' of her awakened deep inside her belly.

"So," Jill said in a whispered, short breath, "how will you pull this off?"

It was quite hard for her right now to hold back a moan at the mere anticipation.

''God damn it,'' she thought. ''She already is under my skin. I need to be careful and take it slow.'' But she couldn't even believe it herself.

Rosa's face showed a smug satisfaction. She stayed silent for a while, drinking up that low panting coming out of Jill's breath.

"Don't worry, ''sweetheart''," she cooed, her hand slowly drifting from Jill's collarbone down her chest and toward her hip, gripping the edge of her tight leather miniskirt.

She leaned forward, lips brushing Jill's neck. "I have ''wonderful'' plans in mind for tonight. Wouldn't want to spoil it all now."

Jill felt the scales of her shell rain down from her heart. She ''needed'' it, she was ''craving'' the follow-up.

"Please do it." It wasn't even a whisper anymore, barely words mouthed out of her hitched breathing. "Please do it now."

Was she already begging? It didn't matter, the world had faded around her, the only thing in her eyes and mind was Rosa. That butch cop who broke her so easily.

Rosa savored the power she held over the supposedly strong ex-special ops agent.

"You are even more desperate than I thought, Valentine," she said mockingly, but her voice was dripping with desire. "We're gonna have so much fun."

She then took a harder grip on Jill's hip and made her turn around, pressing her whole body against the wall and pinning her in place.

"Such a good girl," she whispered. "You're gonna do anything I tell you, right?"

Jill could do nothing but nod, beginning to lose control, arms and legs as weak as her breaths were short.

"Alright," Rosa continued, "then listen close."

A beat of silence fell on them, long enough to let the anticipation writhe in Jill's stomach, before Rosa spoke again.

"Get us out of here. Now."

Without thinking, Jill pulled out her phone.

"Yes, right away, I'll order a cab."

Still pinned face up against the wall, hands shriveling from the pressing desire, she was fumbling to enter her password. "Your place or mine?"

Rosa let out an amused chuckle. "You think you deserve to know where I live? Your place. I want to break you in your own space, in your own bed."

She then slammed her hips against the wall. "Hurry up!"

"S— Sorry..." Jill stuttered, more troubled than she ever had been in her entire life. "I'm doing it now!"

The cab was ordered, showing a waiting time of 5 minutes.

"What should I do in the meantime? And also..."

Another pause slipped between them. Rosa waited for the words with a savored patience.

"What should I call you? Mistress? Madam? Something else?"

Rosa smiled against Jill's neck.

"Look at you, already so eager to please me, to ''obey'' me."

She hummed a bit, faking to ponder the options, only to enjoy how submissive Jill had become in the span of a few minutes. She made her turn around again and grabbed her chin with two fingers to force her gaze into hers.

"You'll be calling me ''ma'am'', understand?"

Quick nods shook Jill's head even before her newlyfound mistress finished her sentence. "Yes ma'am! Shall we wait outside for the cab?"

She attempted a movement to try and escape Rosa's grasp, but she was too weak —and unwilling— to push the mistress aside.

A dark chuckle escaped Rosa's lips. "Not so fast... Let's split up so as not to be suspicious. You're gonna go first and wait by the door. And if anyone asks?" She smirked. "Tell them you have... urgent business. I'll be right behind you."

Finally free, Jill hurried through the bar, aiming for the door.

"Hey, partner!" Jake shouted from afar as she was pacing out of her remote corner. "Where are you going? The night's only just begun! Let's celebrate, Valentine!"

Jill had no time to argue with him, she was sweating with desire.

"Got an emergency here," she replied. "Sorry bye!"

Jake made an incredulous face. "Wait, weren't you with Rosa? Is everything fine?"

She tried to put on her serious stud face, but she was panting hard and still felt weak from the interaction with her fellow policewoman, so her face only displayed a strange rictus.

"Everything's fine. But as I said: emergency. ''Bye."''

Despite what she made Jill believe, Rosa strode up behind Jill just in time to catch Jake's skeptical look. She slid a treacherous arm around Jill's waist, pulling her close with a smirk.

"That's right," she said smoothly, her tone daring anyone to argue. "''Detective business''."

Jake blinked, glancing between them. Then his expression shifted into sudden understanding, eyebrows shooting up as he grinned. "Oooh! Detective ''business!'' Got it." He waggled his eyebrows before turning away with an exaggerated wave. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Rosa rolled her eyes and pressed Jill to the door, whose face was falling apart.

"Fuck. All those months building up a tough reputation, and it all falls apart in an instant..."

She turned to Rosa, who displayed a wide smile. Jill frowned.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Ma'am?"

Rosa's grin was indeed feral. "Don't worry about your rep. By tomorrow, everyone's gonna know exactly who you belong to." Then, gripping her arm hard, she added in a low voice. "Besides, you enjoy this, don't you? Being humiliated in public, watching months of work break down before your eyes... You ''love'' this. Am I wrong?"

Jill remained silent, because she was indeed right. Usually, she made sure she was in control of every situation. At work, at least. But here and now, the fact that she was not in control of her movements nor her words, the fact that she was ordered and dragged around, was pleasant, almost calming. Even being humiliated was exciting in a way, feeling that she was in the palm of an even stronger woman. To be her thing, her point of attention. It made her feel special again.

While waiting for their cab in the cold New York night, she finally raised her voice, driven by her mixed feelings. "You know you are a devious, mischievous, controlling monster, ma'am, right?"

They didn't look at each other, but Jill could ''feel'' a smile reappear on Rosa's lips.

"Not that I hate it," she continued, "but if it were anyone else who did this to me, I would already have beaten them to a pulp."

Rosa scoffed at the fact that her mate felt the need to reassure herself that she was still stronger despite being this submissive.

The remaining five minutes passed without any more words between them. When the cab stopped in front of them, Rosa pushed her new plaything inside with a pressure on the back of her head.

The fifteen-minute trip to Jill's apartment happened in silence. Rosa had stuck her hand in Jill's hair, playing with her brown strands and stroking her scalp. The submissive cop didn't dare say a word, appreciating the contact of her partner. By the time the cab stopped in front of Jill's building, the air was thick with desire.

"Come." With that one word, Rosa stepped out of the car, gesturing for her to follow. "Now."

"Yes, ma'am." Jill threw a bill at the driver, not waiting for the change, busted out of the car, and opened the front door of the building. Once inside, she almost ran up the stairs to the door of her apartment, her mistress on her heels.

With a shaking hand, she unlocked the door, but a hard fist slammed into it, keeping it closed.

"Slow down," Rosa murmured in her ear, a wicked edge to her voice. "I know you are eager, but you don't get inside until you ask nicely."

Jill turned around to face the devilish cop. Panting, focused on the —she was sure— delicious lips that were teasing her so much, so close to her, she suddenly swallowed her unmet desires back inside to stand tall and strong. She needed to test Rosa, to see if she was ready to match her word to actions.

"And what happens if I refuse?"

The answer came immediately. Rosa's eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam, her hand moving to Jill's neck, and with that grip, she slammed her back against the door.

"Oh, sweetheart," she unctuously said while running her thumb across Jill's lips. "You don't get to question my commands. You only ''obey.''"

But Jill wouldn't be threatened by words only. She needed to know if her partner really wanted to carry this out. All of it. Rosa didn't want to commit? It was ''her'' turn to show if she was barks or bites.

"You know what? No. I won't obey you. You think a bunch of well-toned words and a few strokes are enough to get a hold on me, but I'm a tougher nut to crack. You want me to obey? You'll have to tame me first."

The defiance in Jill's eyes was real. Rosa's frown went feral, and a wide grin split her face like a predator ready to gnaw her prey.

"You stubborn little ''brat,"'' she growled, her grip on Jill's neck tightening. "You want to be tamed? I'll fucking ''conquer'' you!"

With her free hand, she slammed open the door. She got a hard grip on Jill's thigh while still holding her neck, and with levering movement, threw her whole body inside, making her pet tumble on the parquet floor like a ragged doll.

She didn't wait for Jill to get up. In three long strides, she walked up to her, grabbed her jaw, and pressed it against the cold floor.

"Are you tamed, now, ''sweeheart''? Do I need to beat the shit out of you until you beg me to stop?"

Jill felt the pain in her joints and her neck. It was delectable. Someone strong enough to send her flying and pin her down? That was rare, and a keeper.

"N— No. That's... enough. Please..."

Rosa screamed at her ear, eyes filled with rage.

"Please, ''who?!?"''

Jill coughed, but with great effort said the word. "Please, ''ma'am''."

Rosa released her grip and took a step back.

"Atta girl. Now, on your knees."

She stepped away and closed the door while Jill struggled to get up from the floor.

"I'm gonna have to teach you some manners," Rosa calmly explained while pacingback to Jill. "If you're gonna be my little submissive princess, I'll have to teach you a few lessons. ''Especially'' after the nerve you just showed me."

A powerful slap hit Jill's cheek, sending her to the ground again.

"That's lesson one: if you disobey, you get punished. I don't want no sassy brat here at my feet. Just my little submissive princess. Is that clear?"

Jill answered while fumbling back up on her knees. "Yes, ma'am."

A second slap hit Jill's other cheek. "Lesson two: you don't talk unless allowed to. If I ask you a question, you nod, and if you really need to talk, you raise your hand. Understood?"

Jill nodded, eyes down.

Rosa's furious face lightened up as she crouched next to her.

"Good girl," she softly said while gently stroking her red cheeks. "You're mine now. As long as you obey, I'm gonna take ''real good'' care of my little princess."

She gently pulled her hair back to raise her face and whispered in a soft voice: "Lesson three, you always get rewarded for good behavior." She then put a tender kiss on her lips.

Jill's will was defeated, but the contact of Rosa's lips filled her with burning passion. Jill's cheeks were burning in pain, but the strokes of her newlyfound mistress mended her heart. Hearing her soft voice, after being rightfully punished for her defiance, made a red ball of desire bloom in her belly. This was it. She was the one.

Rosa got up on her feet and took a look around the apartment. It was impeccable. Not a trace of dust on the floor, every item orderly stored in its own place, each piece of furniture perfectly aligned and clean. The only thing that could be considered out of place was a mug that was left drying next to the sink.

"You're a tidy one, I see."

Jill obediently raised her hand.

"Wanna say something, little princess? Go on."

Jill's eyes were still locked on the ground. "Should I show you around?"

Rosa's lips stretched in a lovely smile. "Oh, princess," she purred. "I don't need no tour. I need to know just one thing..." Her finger traced Jill's collarbone. "Where's the bedroom?"

Jill's eyes turned to a door to the side.

"Get up, sweetheart," Rosa cooed. When Jill was on her feet, she pressed her body against hers to whisper in her ear. "Come with me. If you behave, I'll show you that I reward as hard as I punish." With these words, she traced the contour of Jill's skirt with a sensual hand.

She then went to the designated door, opened... and stopped.

"What the fuck?!?"

Not understanding the situation, Jill joined her to see what the problem was.

She instantly became red in shame, realizing that before going to work earlier, she had forgotten to clean up her room after a rushed 'morning routine'.

All around the otherwise-immaculate floor were scattered all of her 'toys': handcuffs, ropes, swifts and dildos of every size.

Rosa blinked —once, twice— then displayed an amused grin. "Well, well, well..." she said, stepping into the bedroom, kicking a vibrator with her heavy boot and pacing around a strap-on. "Looks like someone's been ''hungry'' this morning..."

A dark laugh escaped her mouth as she grabbed a pair of cuffs, dangling them in front of Jill's flushed face. "Looks like I won't need to go fetch my stuff after all..."

With an expert motion trained by years as a cop, she clasped a cuff around Jill's wrist. "Get on the bed. Face down. Now."

Jill obeyed, the desire scorching inside her belly. She got on the bed and stood there on all fours.

She felt Rosa climbing on the bed and leaning over her, legs on both sides of hers. She grabbed her wrists, making her fall forward onto the duvet. One more clasp, and both of Jill's hands were cuffed to the bedframe above her head.

"Well, well, well..." Rosa trailed while getting off the bed. "So much choice! What will I use to punish you..."

She paced in the room, picking up toys and tossing them around. "I mean, you do understand that I have to give you a punishment in due form, right? I can't reward you just for being tamed. You'll have to show me how well you've been tamed. Only then you'll deserve a reward. Don't you agree? Speak."

Jill was wiggling on the bed. She couldn't wait to see what Rosa was capable of. She certainly wasn't going to do it by halves. She tried not to show too much eagerness in her response. "I agree, ma'am."

What a scene. Her, Jill Valentine, a veteran of the Delta Force, a STARS hero, in a submissive position, trying so hard not to beg this lowly detective to hurt her.

And she wasn't even ashamed.

Rosa came back to the bed and Jill felt the weight of a heavy object on her back.

"Can you guess what this is, princess? Speak." Rosa asked, a playful tune in her tone.

Of course, Jill knew. She knew all of her toys by heart. She could guess any one of them by their weight only. "Y— Yes, ma'am." She stuttered. "It's my paddle." A thick, studded, wooden paddle. Jill was trembling. It was one of her heaviest accessories.

Rosa let her hand trail on Jill's butt, playing with the edge of her skirt. She whispered close to her plaything's ear. "And, pray tell, how many spanks can you take, at most?"

Jill didn't have to think long before having the answer. "Twelve, ma'am." It was her record, reached only a few times with one of her best ex-dominas, back when she was at the Academy. She hadn't played much since she entered the army, and almost none after she got in the STARS.

She was hoping that her butt-spanking resilience hadn't lowered much since, but she made the educated guess that the Delta Force training and her butt getting kicked by the Tyrant a few times before blowing it to smithereens kept her skin thick.

"Twelve, you say..." Rosa got on the bed next to Jill to look her in the eyes. "You know, I really need this lesson to stick with you today. So you'll have to show me your determination, your resilience... and your resolution in pleasing me."

Rosa got back up. "So if you want your reward, you'll take twenty."

Jill felt a cold shiver crippling down her spine. "Twenty? I— I can't take that many!"

She felt the paddle slide down her spine. "Not my problem," Rosa coldly answered. "You can stop me anytime. But less than twenty is no reward."

''Okay, Jill. You can do it. You really want that'' 'reward''', so you must endure. Don't let the pain spoil the pleasure. You love pain. You love that shot of dopamine it gives you. Everything's gonna be fine.''

She felt her skirt roll up to her hips, uncovering her buttcheeks and the white tanga she was wearing underneath.

''"''Ready?"

Before Jill could even answer, the paddle slapped Jill's butt cheek with so much force that she couldn't hold out a scream.

"Yes," Rosa answered the unspoken question, "we're starting hard. Do you like it?"

The pain was lingering on Jill's soft skin. Tingling, propagating in a slow wave. All of Jill's senses lit up at the alarm, rushing her nervous system with the sweet, sweet drug of pleasure.

Rosa pulled Jill's hair, panning her head backwards. "Answer me: do you like it?"

Jill's dumb smile had already answered, but she still voiced it. "Yes, ma'am, I love it!"

Rosa let her head fall back, and another hard slap spanked the other cheek. "Then, count!"

This second hit was as hard as the previous one, but Jill didn't scream. Her body was back in a state of submission it reflexively recognized, even after all these years.

"Two!"

Rosa stopped for a second and stroked the already-red butt of her princess. "Good girl. If you reach twenty, I promise I'll show you stars and galaxies you never saw before."

Two spanks came in quick succession.

"Three, four!"

Jill's voice was crackling. The mix of pain and pleasure was slowly making her brain black out.

Rosa played a bit with the toy, giving soft, painless hits with the paddle's tip on top of Jill's butt, on her back, and rubbing it on the side of her face. Then she gave a strong whack on her butt again.

This time, Jill groaned hard. She tried to restrain herself — last thing she wanted now was the neighbors to call the cops — but the accumulation was making the pain grow stronger and stronger.

"Fff— Five!"

She felt a hand grab the lower edge of her tank top. "Brace yourself, sweetheart, I'm gonna speed up a little."

After this warning, Rosa whacked the little reddened butt five times.

"Six! Seven! EIGHT! NI—" With each blow, Jill's voice was getting louder, and the last one was only a scream.

"Ten!" Finished Rosa, almost yelling at her. "Don't stop counting!"

She gave an eleventh spank, softer, as if to punish her for having stopped counting. Jill didn't say anything though, panting hard, face buried in the duvet.

Rosa's anger was audible. "Count! If you don't count, I'll stop!"

Jill's breath hitched as she tried hard to let the word out. "E— Eleven."

Rosa stroked Jill's butt again, dissipating a bit of pain. "Good girl. Only nine left. Hold tight."

Jill felt Rosa back down to prepare another blow, and instantly tensed. However, the blow didn't come. After a few seconds, she relaxed, wondering why she had stopped, and that's precisely when the paddle hit her off-guard.

This time, the scream was even higher, as if it was genuine, killing pain.

"Oh my god!" She complained, still screaming. "That was— That was petty!"

She heard Rosa's signature chuckle behind her. "Yeah, it was. You had enough?"

As sole answer, Jill shrilled defiantly. "Twelve!"

The next six whacks weren't as hard as the previous ones could have been, but they were quick and interleaved with intentional whiffs. This joined the rhythmic pain with the cold trepidation of wondering if the next hit would be a real spank or a voluntary miss.

Jill counted each of them, but her voice began to fail as this was too much, even for her. Her panting was now low throat whistles.

Rosa paused, worry in her voice. "You okay?"

No response.

"Okay, Valentine. That's enough, we're stopping now."

This caused Jill's body to jerk violently. "No! We're not done! Go on, I'll reach twenty! And also..."

She tilted her head to direct her voice at Rosa. "I'm not Valentine, I'm your ''princess''."

Rosa grumble. "Am I dreaming or are you trying to put ''me'' in place?"

Jill realized that she had provoked her. "No! No! I mean..." she tried to back down. But Rosa cut her off. "I'll bring you to twenty alright. But you're gonna regret having begged for it."

Jill began to panic. "Wait, no! That's not what I m—"

She was interrupted by the strongest blow she received so far. She screamed and wiggled in place, pulling on the cuffs hard.

But she eventually got back in place, butt up, ready to receive the final blow.

A long minute passed, with only the heavy hitched breath of Jill being heard. Her whole body was shaking. She was groaning at the mere anticipation of the final blow...

She felt Rosa's strong grip on her shoulder to hold her in place, and a second after...

<nowiki>*</nowiki>''WHACK''*

For this last wave of pain, Jill's scream was absolutely quiet, the blow having flushed the air out of her lungs.

She broke down. Her whole body fell on the duvet and writhed for a long minute.

While she was trying to recover, the pain lingered hard in her body. Rosa laid down against her and gave her a comforting embrace, wrapping an arm around her head while the other hand rubbed her aching butt.

"Oh— Wow!" Rosa admired with an impressed smirk. "I didn't think you could take it all! I was trying to make you beg for me to stop, but... Wow!"

Jill grinned with pride, overjoyed to have pleased her mistress beyond expectations. With the pain now reduced to a sore dumbness, she looked at Rosa in the eyes and whispered. "That was fantastic." The stupid smile was back on her lips.

"You know," Rosa continued, "I ''was'' going to reward you anyway — I always reward good behavior, be it one or twenty spanks — but now you deserve even more..."

Rosa shifted, and Jill could feel something bulge against her hip. Her hands were still cuffed, so she had to part from Rosa's embrace to see what it was.

Down there, Rosa was pantless, and her black panties were covered by one of Jill's strap-on harnesses. The dildo was average-thick, but long. She must have changed while she was fetching the paddle.

"Is this... Is this my reward?" She asked, feeling a warm wave of desire pass over her face.

Rosa cast a loving smile at her. "I'm ready whenever you are, my sweet princess."

Jill tried not to show too much eagerness in her response. "I'm ready!" Even after all this, she was unconsciously trying to keep a straight face. One that couldn't fool Rosa, of course.

The detective got off the bed already, gently grabbed Jill's hips to bring her closer to the edge of the bed, and slipped her tanga down.

"Wait!" interrupted the still-chained ex-STARS. "I want to look at you. May I turn around?"

Rosa chuckled. "Only if you promise to look at me in the eyes when I make you cum."

Without a word, Jill turned her whole body around, twisting the chain of the cuffs. With a wiggle of her legs, she finished taking off her panties and sent them flying across the room.

Rosa took a good look at the hairy pussy that was radiating between those spread legs.

"You like what you see, ma'am?"

Rosa grinned. "I love it."

For an instant, she considered the big bottle of lube that was resting on the nightstand, but decided that the ridiculous amount of fluid that had already damped Jill's inner thighs was a clear sign that it was useless.

When she moved her own hips forward, approaching her silicone dick to the sweating cunt, Jill's whole body began to writhe in anticipated pleasure.

But when it was only a few inches away, she stopped.

"Ma'am?"

Rosa looked at Jill dead in the eyes. "Beg."

Jill looked confused. "What? But— Isn't this... my reward?"

Rosa thrust her thumb below Jill's chin, forcing her head up and exposing her throat. "I said: beg."

Jill could barely move her jaw with Rosa's thumb pinning it up. She felt Rosa's dick brush against her labia, teasing the entrance. Rosa's dagger eyes were dead serious. She wouldn't have anything unless she begged.

Jill tried to resist one last desperate time, hanging on to the remnants of the faded pride that used to define her so well, but a burning sensation between her spread legs brought her mind back to the reality of her most basic needs. For just an instant, she dreaded that what she had been longing for for all these months would just vanish if she refused to beg. Before she even knew it, the words were out of her mouth.

"P— Please, ma'am... I need it so badly... Please, reward me! Fuck me!"

A loving chuckle emerged from Rosa's mouth. "Of course I'll fuck you, my sweet little lovely princess. You deserve it so much, how could I not?"

Being praised right after being punished was one of the sweetest sensations Jill could feel. Her mistress was pleased! That was the only thing that mattered to her right now. For once, she really believed she deserved a reward.

Rosa's hips closed in, and she rubbed the silicon dick against Jill's damp lips. This caress, however soft, sent strong electrical shocks of pleasure throughout Jill's whole body. While she was shaking in quick spasms, Rosa lifted Jill's tank top, revealing two small boobies. While still railing her cunt, she leaned forward and put one erect nipple in her mouth, tenderly sucking, licking, and biting.

Jill beginning to moan was her cue. She drew the dildo back a little and slowly penetrated her little princess. Jill gasped short then let out a long moan, as if she was getting purged of all of the stiffness she had accumulated for months.

When she was fully inside, Rosa raised her head, stroked Jill's cheek, and plunged deep into her partner's gaze. "I love your eyes..."

Her voice was filled with love and possessive awe. She began to move her hips, slowly at first, but went faster as seconds passed, watching closely the woman who threw her trust at her just like that being gradually overrun by sexual pleasure.

"Oh yesss... This feels ''so'' good!" Jill whispered, eyes closed. The relief, the sensation of pleasure without pain, was something she missed so much during the past years. The sensuality, the shivers caused by the bodies stroking against each other, the breath of her partner cut shorter as seconds passed. She was finally reminded of what it felt to be taken care of.

''Taken care of''. In every sense of the phrase. Blissful pleasure, soft kisses in her neck...

Jill abandoned her whole self to her partner. She was only feelings, sensations, and trust. Nothing existed past their naked, intertwined bodies. The pleasure built up slowly, not rushing, patient. She felt it in her limbs, a humming electrical sensation, waiting to explode in an orgasmic pinnacle.

She opened her eyes to look at her. Rosa's gaze was locked with hers. Jill smiled, and as Rosa smiled back, she took it as her cue to level things up a bit. The thrusts became more intense, deeper, and stronger. The pleasure that was building up inside Jill's belly suddenly increased its rate. A bit surprised, she clawed at Rosa's back.

"Look at me, princess," Rosa breathed. Her big black eyes were plunging into Jill's soul. "You are ''so'' pretty'','' like this. You're the prettiest princess in the world."

These words, though quite cheesy, did a number on the now-soft Jill Valentine. She couldn't refrain from a long moan, during which Rosa went even harder, and harder...

"Oh yeaaah, don't stop !"

Jill felt the pleasure inside her on the brink of explosion. Rosa held her close, and in a few final hard thrusts she whispered in her ear.

"I love you, princess."

The slow wave of orgasmic rapture exploded inside Jill, who tried so hard to look into her mistress' eyes as ordered, but could only let out a long scream while her nails left long red streaks on her lover's back.

Rosa let out a couple of low grunts, clearly getting her share of pleasure. Then, she fell on Jill's body, who squeezed her in a sweet childish embrace.

After a few minutes, when they both finally caught their breath, Rosa slid to the side, and at last freed Jill's hand from the cuffs. She gently rubbed the reddened wrists, and they stayed there, without a word, for a few minutes, an hour maybe, stroking each other's wet skin, playing with rebel hair strands.

''It's the first time in years I'm feeling comfortable,'' Jill thought, nesting her head inside Rosa's shoulder.

And this was indeed very true, because she soon fell asleep, as careless as she could ever be.

Littérature:Smut/A Rose for my Valentine/2 - Fullmetal BFMV

2026-06-11T05:24:30Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Fullmetal BFMV
| livre = A Rose for my Valentine
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Publié
}}
When Jill woke up, the bedroom was plunged into the yellowish darkness of the city's night. She was alone on the bed.

She stood up and glanced at the red LEDs of the alarm clock resting askew on the bedside table. Six thirty-two, less than half an hour before the alarm would go off.

She grabbed her phone. Nothing.

She put on a fresh pair of panties and stepped into the living room. No one.

''Well, it was fun while it lasted'', Jill thought, ''but I guess you have better things to do than stay with me longer than you need.''

With a bleeding disappointment and a dash of anger in her heart, she staggered to the coffee machine, mentally clinging to the core memory she had made the night before.

The machine roared, and a thick, black liquid began to drip down from it. ''Hmm, morning coffee.''

She was absently watching her mug fill when a warm hand found its way on her hip.

Her body went into full combat mode at the stranger's contact. She grabbed the hand by the wrist, turned around in a flash, twisting her aggressor's arm, and launched her other hand to grab their throat.

That's when her brain fully processed the situation, quickly confirmed by her eyes: it was Rosa. Of course. Who else could it be?

"Damn, princess, you're quick!"

Being called 'princess' brought Jill back to reality. She released the arm and withdrew her hand from Rosa's neck. She was still pantless, but her skin was warm and smelled fresh. Was she wearing a pair of Jill's panties?

"Darn, I'm—" She'd been really startled but was reluctant to admit she believed that Rosa had left.

Rosa stretched her neck and rubbed her wrist. "Wasn't hard sneaking up to you, the coffee machine was screaming. I used your shower, you don't mind, right?"

This was more of an assertion than a question. Jill turned back to look at her coffee and smiled, happy to see that the assertive cop did not leave on the sly. She was glad she stayed but wouldn't show it. The few hours of sleep she got put her vulnerability where it belonged: deep inside her heart, where nobody could reach it. Again. Could Rosa shatter it again? It probably wasn't as hard as before. But would she do it? Well, that's why she stayed, right?

Right?

"Coffee?" she asked.

Rosa didn't answer. Instead, she twisted herself around Jill and picked up the mug that had just been filled.

Jill checked the time on her phone while she poured herself another coffee. ''I really don't want to go to work now. Rosa stayed, that means she wants more of it? Should I ask her?''

"You alright, princess?"

Jill turned around to face Rosa. The detective was sitting on the kitchen island, a vicious smile on her face.

She knew what was going on in Jill's head. But Jill couldn't admit it, something inside her —a residue of pride?— prevented her from feeling vulnerable again so soon.

But she needed it. It was like a drug: after the first dose, she craved more. Rosa knew it and was going to make her beg for it. Again.

Did Jill care? A bit, maybe. But the craving was too strong.

"Do you have plans for today?" Jill cautiously asked, failing to make eye contact.

Rosa sipped her coffee, then asked back. "Depends on you. Do ''you'' have any plans?"

Jill wanted her to stay and spend the day with her. She opened her mouth, but the words didn't come. She wasn't built to be the one asking things. She was used to making demands, ordering, not begging and being ordered. Even though she liked it. Rosa broke her shell last night, but it rebuilt itself in the meantime.

"I... need to take a shower first." And she hurried to the bathroom.

The hot water on her sore skin was delectable. She tried to gather the courage to ask Rosa to stay with her for the day. What did that mean? That she was a coward? After all that happened in the STARS, she couldn't even ask a woman out even after they spent the night together? What the fuck, Valentine.

''She really must be special'' ''if I am broken this hard'', she thought, scalding water scorching her scalp.

She emerged from the steamy shower and grabbed a towel. That's when she realized she had forgotten to bring clean clothes. She put her panties back on and passed her head through the door.

"Rosa, can you bring me some clothes?"

Rosa was standing there, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Come here. Now."

The cold voice of her mistress made Jill obey without having time to think. Jill stepped back in the living room, and Rosa detailed her almost-naked body.

"Good girl."

Rosa slowly paced around Jill, who averted her eyes and looked at the floor.

"Look at me."

Jill obeyed. Rosa's face was hard. She wasn't smiling, and there was something fierce in her eyes.

"Pray tell, princess, did you dare consider ''not'' calling in sick today and ''not'' spending the day with me?"

Jill fumbled with her words. "I don— I mean, it depends on— I didn't know if you wanted to stay here with me."

Rosa grabbed Jill's jaw with her whole hand, forcing her eyes to stay locked in hers.

"What you think doesn't matter. You're not allowed to think. Only to ''beg''."

Jill frowned. Not at what Rosa just said, but at herself and this uncanny feeling that invited itself yet again inside her belly. The warm touch of the detective on her naked skin, her fierce eyes piercing through her, her hard, low voice giving her orders...

She quickly submitted. After swallowing, she dropped her eyes and begged.

"Please, ma'am, can you stay with me today? I need you and I don't want you to leave..."

Rosa's pretty face split with a wide, hungry smile.

"I don't care what you want. I'm staying because I want to use you. And I will."

Rosa let Jill's jaw go and turned around to step into the kitchen. For a moment, Jill's gaze got lost in the exaggerated swinging of Rosa's hips.

She shrugged it off, and raised her hand.

"Ma'am?"

Rosa didn't care to look at her and grabbed the two mugs that were left aside, the coffee inside slowly cooling.

"Yes? Speak."

"Shouldn't I contact the captain to let him know I won't be coming today?"

Rosa chuckled, grabbed the phone that Jill left on the counter, and simply threw it at Jill's feet.

"No need. I did it before you woke up. Now come."

Jill briefly looked at the phone on the parquet, displaying a message sent to Captain Holt two hours ago, bearing the simplest message: '''Sick today. See you tomorrow''<nowiki/>'. She walked up to Rosa, who began to examine her like she was a horse at a showcase.

She cupped her small breast, tested her nipples, then slipped a hand down between her legs, stroking the white panties that were becoming wet at the contact of her hands.

"You have an amazing body, you know?"

Jill dropped her head so Rosa could not see the embarrassment dyeing her cheeks pink, but a soft finger picked her chin up and forced her eyes into Rosa's.

"If you had to work today, you'd be pretty late already. Your shift began minutes ago, and look at you: barely clean, not even caffeinated..."

She paced around Jill and grabbed her butt with a firm hand.

"On your knees, princess."

Without a thought, Jill dropped to the floor. She shut her brain down, let the work-related anxieties flush away, and made herself ready to obey.

Rosa stepped away for a second, fetched something from somewhere Jill couldn't see, then came back, grinning wide.

"Show me your pretty face."

Jill looked up to her mistress. She didn't even wonder what was going to happen to her. She just enjoyed the moment and trusted her mistress, knowing that whatever she was planning, it would be wonderful.

"Open wide."

She obeyed. As soon as her mouth was gaping, Rosa began to pour some lukewarm coffee from one of the mugs.

"Don't swallow. And DON'T SPILL. If you spill it, I'll have you clean it up with your tongue on the floor."

The mouth now filled, Rosa put the mug away and knelt next to her princess.

"If you don't spill any," she whispered in her ear, "I have a special surprise for you..."

Jill was doing her best to stand still. But the warm breath of her loving mistress on her neck and the perspective of being ''rewarded'' made it hard for her to keep her balance.

She gargled a bit. A bubble plopped out of the black liquid. But not a drop was spilled.

Rosa stood up. "Good girl. Now comes the hard part. Don't move, because I'm gonna s—"

Three loud knocks erupted from the door.

"What the..." Rosa swore. She put a hand on Jill's shoulder before going up to the door. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Jill was puzzled. Who could come to see her this early in the morning?

She heard Rosa open the door.

"What is it?"

Jill tilted her head slightly and exerted her eyes to be able to see who was at the door. She couldn't see anyone, Rosa keeping the door opening slim enough that the stranger could not see she was in underwear, but she instantly recognized their voice.

"Good mor— Uh... Rosa? What are you doing here?"

Rosa sighed and returned the question. "What the heck are ''you'' doing here, Amy?"

Panic birthed inside Jill's stomach. She managed to remain composed, as always, but not without a few black drops of coffee escaping from the edge of her mouth and running down her cheeks, neck, and between her boobs.

"I'm visiting Jill," Amy responded. "I heard from the captain that she was sick, and since I was affected to the neighborhood, I wanted to say hi and see if she needed anything..."

Rosa grumbled.

Amy continued. "So... Is Jill here? Are you taking care of her, or..."

Jill could see the door open slightly, probably due to Amy's pressure.

"Wait, where are your pants? What are ''you'' doing here? Tell me where Jill is!"

Rosa hardened her tone and her grip on the door. "She's being taken care of. The only thing you need to know, is that you don't need to come check on her anymore. Understood?"

Amy's voice was pleading. "Rosa, please. I just want to know if she's OK."

"She is. Bye."

And the door slammed close.

Rosa leaned back on the door. A few seconds passed, and only when a faint sigh and steps walking down the stairs could be heard from the other side did she come back to her obedient plaything.

She knelt and ran a hand where the coffee left a brown trail. "Oh. You spilled some... Were you nervous, princess?"

Jill didn't know how to answer without spilling more, so she pressed her eyes closed, trying to communicate that she was OK.

"Don't need to pretend, love," Rosa answered while stroking Jill's cheek, "I can read right through you. No need to try being hard and resilient. Just let your emotions flow. I won't judge."

Jill blinked twice as a 'thank you' gesture. A fleeting, tender smile passed on Rosa's lips —quite a rare sight, Jill made sure to mark the image in her mind— then knelt further down to gently bite the side of Jill's neck.

"Drink up, princess."

While Jill was trying her best to gulp the pool of coffee filling her mouth whole, she felt Rosa's tongue licking the thin trail of liquid between her boobs. The wet tongue found its way up to her chin, followed by a mischievous bite.

"Good job, love," she said as half of the coffee was already drank.

Rosa closed Jill's mouth with her hand and pushed her back down on the floor.

"Go on, don't mind me."

Rosa sat across Jill's belly and grabbed both her tits with force, dragging a long moan from Jill's throat. Rosa then bent over and started to bite the nipples, left and right, softly and hard. Jill was shaking, not able to shout her pleasure yet, struggling to swallow the remainder of the coffee.

Without raising her head from her job, Rosa put a knee between Jill's legs, pushing hard against her cunt.

"Hump," she ordered with a pressure of the knee.

Rosa's biting got harder, and Jill began to frot her pussy against Rosa's bare knee, damping her thigh with the liquid that had already been soaking her panties.

Jill soon finished drinking all of the liquid that was muzzling her, but as she opened her mouth wide to take a deep breath and begin to moan all she liked, Rosa's hand went straight inside her mouth, gagging her.

A low grunt escaped from Jill's throat, overstimulated by Rosa's works. She felt daring and began to stroke Rosa's neck.

With a flick of the head, Rosa dismissed Jill's hand. She released her gagging hand and pressed her knee even more against Jill's damp cunt.

"Harder!" She ordered.

Jill, eyelids pressed close, shook her head. "Ma'am, if I go harder, I'm gonna..." She gulped. "I'm gonna cum!"

Rosa raised her head and grabbed Jill's chin to force her eyes open. "Don't you ''fucking'' dare! You cum when I tell you to. Now, hump ''harder''!"

Jill whined when Rosa's thigh pushed up between her legs, so hard that she almost made her slide on the parquet floor.

But she obeyed. She grabbed Rosa's thigh with both hands, and rubbed her pussy harder. She gritted her teeth, rattled and dragged her head left and right on the floor to resist the imminent orgasm that was begging to erupt between her legs, making them numb.

"P— Please! I beg you! I fucking beg you! Don't do this to me! Please, let me cum!"

Rosa drank up her plea with a vicious satisfaction. She was about to bring this girl to the brink of unconsciousness, and ''then'' allow her to cum.

Panting with desire and sadistic pleasure, she told her toy, "Gonna count to ten. At ten, you'll be allowed to cum. But if you come before then, I'll never touch you again!"

Jill's hands were clawing at Rosa's thigh now. She wasn't rubbing her pussy anymore, but was pressing it hard against Rosa's knee instead, as if she was trying to contain the overflowing pleasure that only waited to explode.

"Oh yes, pleasepleaseplease! I need it! I can't hold it anymore!"

Rosa's grin buried deep into Jill's neck as she began the countdown.

"One."

Rosa's plump lips moving against Jill's collarbone provoked a jolt of pleasure that shook her whole body.

"Two."

Jill began to shiver with anticipation. She mused a few words, like "I'm gonna come all over you", but Rosa couldn't hear it clearly.

"Three."

Jill's moans grew louder each second passing. She began to uncontrollably chew a rebel strand of Rosa's hair that happened to be close to her mouth.

"Four."

Jill's nail dug harder into Rosa's skin.

The next number was not coming, and Jill began to panic.

"Five," she begged, "say five, please! Don't stop!"

Rosa shifted her position over Jill's body, rubbing her thigh once again against Jill's pussy, who wiggled on the floor as if she was trying to escape, but her hands were still gripping hard.

Rosa's lips moved slowly in front of Jill's, brushing against each other as she slowly said the word.

"Five."

Jill couldn't take it anymore. Her eyes rolled back and her body went almost completely limp, only shaken by a spasm every few seconds.

Rosa frowned. She held the back of Jill's hand with a hand. "You didn't cum, right now, did you?"

Jill couldn't lock her eyes into her mistress', she just shook her head.

"Good. We'll speed things up then."

Then she proceeded to rub her tight against Jill's clit with a wide up and down movement. Jill's whole body instantly tensed as the pleasure building up inside her was becoming more than unbearable, physically painful.

"Six!" Rosa exclaimed with pride.

Jill's hands left Rosa's thigh and went up to her mouth. Eyes closed against, she had to bite hard into her own palm to keep the orgasm contained.

"Seven."

Rosa looked at her plaything, who was trying so hard to obey her, to please her.

"We're almost there, princess. You're doing wonderful. Keep it up, I'm proud of you."

Jill's eyes opened so she could see face-to-face the loving gaze that her mistress was casting at her.

"Eight."

Rosa's thigh was more like bumping against Jill's clit than rubbing against it. Jill's whole body was bobbing along to the rhythm of Rosa's knee-fucking.

"Nine!"

''Almost there! Just a few seconds left!''

Jill's thoughts were racing. Time seemed to stop. She could have sworn that Rosa was delaying the last number to torture her one last time, but she didn't care, because here came the...

"TEN!"

As soon as Rosa shouted the last number, she removed her knee from Jill's cunt and rubbed her clit hard with two fingers, right through her panties.

Jill's body arched on the floor as she came, screaming and hitting the floor with her fist under the intensity of the edged orgasm. Her juices spread through the fabric, fiercely spraying a satisfied Rosa.

"You are so beautiful, princess! I love you..." Rosa left these words out as Jill continued her violent wiggling on the parquet, the pleasure too powerful for her body to endure.

A whole minute passed like this, Jill shouting while Rosa was rubbing her clitoris and so draining as much orgasmic pleasure as she could, until her princess begged her to stop.

"This— This is too much! Please, make it stop!" Jill cried.

This was when Rosa knew it was enough. She stopped the motion of her fingers, waited for her princess to calm down a bit, then carefully embraced her shaking yet magnificent body.

They stayed like this for a moment, both quiet, on the floor, the silence only disturbed by Jill's hitched breath.

When Jill finally calmed down, a wide, dumb smile found its way onto her face. She cuddled herself inside Rosa's arm.

"That was... wonderful. There's no word powerful enough to describe it."

Rosa didn't respond, but her satisfaction floated in the air. Not a smug, prideful satisfaction. Something affectionate, the simple bliss of having pleased her partner.

"How can I repay you, ma'am?"

Rosa scoffed. "You don't need to. Sex isn't a transaction."

Jill got up on one arm. "Wait, so you made me call in sick for a whole day just to give me what— an hour of sex?"

Rosa rose up to match her position. "And what if I did? You ain't gonna be all bratty now, are you?"

Jill, in turn, scoffed. "No, but I figured this princess' mouth could spend all morning munching some carpet, stopping only when it would be too numb to continue..."

"Huh-uh..." Rosa couldn't think of anything else to respond. She detailed Jill's smug face. Maybe it was the recent rush of dopamine that made her so daring and enthusiast?

And, after all, did it matter? She stayed the night planning to drain every inch of pleasure from this little needy cop, and decided to stay here the whole day just because it was so good, so why not make the best of it and get served too?

Plus, she certainly could not say 'no' to that face...

"All right, if you're so eager, I'll allow it."

She stood up, and went to a comfortable faux-leather armchair that was resting on an expensive carpet, next to a modern coffee table. While walking, she shook her hips to make her panties fall and flicked her foot to send them flying to Jill's face.

She lecherously sat in the armchair, legs open wide.

"Come tend to this rug, beautiful princess."

Her clit exposed to the air, she could feel it throbbing. She tried to stay composed, but the idea of Jill making her cum, right here on her own furniture, had made its way into her mind — and her cunt. After the little show Jill gave her on the floor, she was dead-horny, and after Jill suggested to suck her cunt, the desire became borderline unbearable.

Jill crawled on the floor and reached Rosa's cunt. Rosa twitched when Jill's fingers brushed her inner thighs.

"Slowly!" she half-ordered, half-begged.

"Don't worry," Jill laughed, "I will take good care of my beloved mistress..."

Jill's hands began to stroke Rosa's sensitive parts. One hand was set on her inner thigh, thumb stroking very near Rosa's bush, and the other passed below the other thigh, fondling the edge of her butt.

She began to kiss her thigh at several sensible places, making Rosa react each time with a low groan or a slight twitch.

She then kissed her lips. Her tongue found its way there, playing with the inner lips and sliding inside. Then it finally reached her clit and began a slow, soft, steady motion.

When she felt the warm contact of Jill's mouth against her erect clit, Rosa braced the arms of the chair, fearing a spike of pleasure, but only receiving smooth and delicate tongue strokes.

"Oh my... This is ''good."''

Rosa finally relaxed, letting the pleasure build in her. Slowly, with a sweetness that came from a loving princess. Something she didn't experience very often, to be honest.

Letting herself go, she plunged her fingers into Jill's hair and began to moan with each flick of tongue.

She was almost startled when she heard a harsh buzzing sound coming from the floor, a few steps away.

"That's my phone," Jill said without raising her head from Rosa's cunt. "Don't worry, I'll just ignore it."

Not a minute later, the buzzing sound came back.

Jill sighed inside Rosa's pussy, interrupting her tongue's work.

Rosa lifted Jill's head from below her chin.

"Go answer it, princess. One call is a nuisance, two calls is an emergency."

Jill sighed again, nodded, then reluctantly went to pick up her phone.

"It's Holt." She immediately answered the call. "Valentine? Yes. Oh, I see. No problem, I'll be there in five. No worries, Captain, I'll see you soon."

She hung up and cast a sorry look at Rosa. "It is indeed an emergency. A hostage situation at a bank down the block. Amy is already there, but they need backup quickly."

Rosa stood up, trying to hide her own frustration. She kissed a disappointed Jill on the lips.

"Then what are we waiting for, princess? Duty calls!"
----

When the two cops arrived on site, the situation seemed dire. A pale police line had been drawn in front of the grand entrance of the bank, with patrol cars as barricades and a few railings to keep the citizens away from the danger. Nothing could be seen from inside where they were, but a small handful of uniformed officers were on standby, gun at the ready.

The only ranked cop standing there was Amy, who came straight up to them as soon as she saw them. While she handed them the standardized bulletproof vests, she summarized the situation.

"We got one armed man inside that took eight persons hostage. He has a handgun and... grenades."

Rosa and Jill looked at each other, concerned. The grenades were going to make any operation more difficult.

"How many grenades are we talking about?" Jill asked.

"At least four. Maybe more." She walked them to the barricade to a spot where they could have a good view of the entrance. "He demands an unlicensed car to flee. If he doesn't have it in the next ten minutes, he will kill a hostage."

"Where is the negotiator?" Rosa asked, looking around.

Amy drew a sorry face. "There is no negotiator. None that could arrive on time. There are several incidents this morning, and the closest teams are already dispatched. The fastest we can get will arrive in twenty minutes. That's too long, he'd have killed someone in the meantime. He already shot his weapon in the leg of a hostage, only because we tried to convince him to wait a little."

Jill frowned. "Wait, there's a wounded civilian in there?"

Amy nodded, anguish bending her mouth.

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yes, they're on standby down the block. We didn't want them to scare the perp."

Jill and Rosa went silent for a while, thinking about the situation.

"Do you know where he is positioned?" Rosa asked.

"Yes," Amy nodded. "He is in the back of the hall, against the counters, with all the hostages."

"Then I know what to do." Jill interrupted.

Amy didn't catch it, as she was expecting Jill to elaborate, but at this moment Rosa sent dagger eyes to the one who was a few minutes ago her little princess.

But Jill didn't back down. She held Rosa's gaze. "You two will go around each side of the building, and try to get a good spot through the windows that give inside the hall of the bank. This should not be too hard, at least one of you should have a good line of sight. Once you're in position, be ready to shoot."

Rosa took a step closer to Jill, anger distorting her face, and asked with a voice so sharp it startled Amy. "And what are ''you'' gonna do?"

She was defying Jill to say what they both knew she planned to do. But her authority was nothing here. Right here, right now, Jill was a special ops agent, not a desperate kneeling sub. She had training and experience none of the other two had.

She sustained Rosa's gaze once more, and said without flinching. "I'm going in as a negotiator. No weapons. My goal will be to buy you enough time and maybe distract him from spotting you. That's why you're gonna have to be swift. I trust you."

"Are you INSANE?" Rosa raged, closing the distance between them in a flash.

"I have training, Diaz. Don't forget I've been trained in the Delta, I have many skills. That's why Holt called me. He knew that, and hoped it'd make a difference."

Rosa stood her ground, almost growling under her breath, outraged by the evident feasibility of Jill's plan.

Unwilling to break eye contact with her, Jill whispered so only Rosa could hear. "Don't make this personal, Rosa."

Rosa scoffed, turned around, and went back against the barricade, readying herself for taking position.

Jill took the 'Negotiator' velcro insignia a uniformed officer gave her, replacing the 'Police' insignia she had. She knew time wasn't on her side, so she unholstered her gun, gave it to the officer, raised her hands, and went straight to the bank hall.

When she passed the barricade, she could hear the faint voice of Rosa behind her. "Don't you ''dare'' die on me, Valentine." Then Rosa took off to find her spot.

''Sorry, Rosa,'' Jill thought while crossing the empty space between the cops and the bank. ''I, too, want to protect you.''

When Jill entered the large tiled hall of the bank, she was first welcomed by the echo of her own footsteps, just before noticing the middle-aged man that was aiming at her with what appeared to be a Glock .45 in a hand, and that held a military-grade hand grenade in the other.

''Well, I wonder how a standard white forty-year-old man who bought the least original pistol in the US put his hands on a bunch of ET-MPs.''

Just after taking note of the three other similar grenades hanging from his belt, her eyes went to the young woman he was stepping on with his worn-out sneakers. She was crying and didn't seem to consider Jill's presence as a good thing.

"Wat'cha doing here, lass? Got my car?"

''The good thing is that he won't be able to unpin his grenade with one hand. And if he tries to pull the pin with his teeth, like in those crappy movies, he'll just manage to lose a tooth or two.''

"Yes, the car is almost here. But we need a bit more time... The window you gave us is too short."

The man got visibly upset.

"What'cha bablin' about? Just tear off the plate of one of you damn cop cars and give it to me! Do it now or I'll blow your head off!"

Jill seriously doubted he could deliberately score a headshot from where he was standing, but she wouldn't risk it. Especially since she didn't see the shadow of her teammate through the windows behind him. She needed more time.

"Ok, ok. Sure, I'll do it now. I'll go see the cops and ask them to give you one of their police cars. However..."

The man lost his temper. "No buts! Car now, or you dead!"

Jill saw a silhouette taking position behind the man. She just needed a few more seconds of distraction, even if staying with him meant provoking further and thus risking taking a bullet.

''Sigh, Rosa's gonna kill me.''

"But the cops won't believe you! They'll need a guarantee or th—"

A ringing *''bang*'' reverberated across the hall. At the same instant, Jill felt a force piercing her chest and sending her flying backwards. Then two other shots echoed, bullets whizzing near her head, just before she fell flat on her back.

Two more gunshots were heard, a bit more distant, accompanied by the sound glass being broken and hostages screaming.

The air smelled of burnt plastic. Her vision was fuzzy, with black dots flying before her eyes. Her chest ached.

After the debilitating feeling passed and she regained her senses, she got up on her elbows, only to see an angry Rosa rushing to her. Her fellow cop had rage in her wet eyes, and as soon as she was in range, she slapped Jill.

"Don't ''ever'' do this again, Valentine!"

Then, to Jill's surprise, she passionately kissed her lips.

Soon, however, the medical team got on site, and Rosa was pushed aside so Jill could be tended to. It lasted a while, but Rosa refused to leave her. She carefully watched the paramedics do their jobs, sending death threats with her eyes each time Jill flinched under the pain.

"It's not so bad, just a gigantic bruise," Jill laughed, while she and Rosa were exiting the bank. The perp was in custody, and the hostages had been handled by Amy. Backup was on its way to help the detectives and uniforms, but Rosa refused to leave Jill's side.

Jill cast a side smile at the angry-yet-caring cop.

"No need to babysit me, you know. I'm a big girl, I can handle a light wound. I've had it worse y—"

Rosa exploded in rage and grabbed Jill by the arm.

"I ''know'' you're tough material, Valentine. But I can't ''help'' it. I've ''seen'' you vulnerable, I've ''seen'' the weakness in you, and I swore to myself —and to you— to take care of that part of you. So it's my ''legitimate right'' to be angry when you throw yourself at armed maniacs like this."

They stayed silent for a moment.

"It's weird to see you all emotional, ma'am."

Rosa scoffed. "You think it's not even weirder for me?"

Jill stretched her arms above her head, trying to dismiss the soreness in her chest.

"You want to be weird together at my place? We still have the rest of the day off..."

"Uh-huh."

----

The second the door of Jill's apartment slammed shut, Rosa pulled Jill's arm and forced her into a long hug.

"Rosa... You're hurting me..."

"Don't care." Rosa answered with a voice that was trying to be sharp to hide the emotions spilling out of her heart, but she let her go nonetheless.

She walked up to the bathroom door. "You coming, princess? I promised I'd take care of you, so I have to tend to this wound."

Jill joined her mistress and let herself be tended to. Rosa sat her on a metal stool, then browsed around to find a first-aid kit. When she finally found it, Jill was dozing off.

"Hey, princess, still with me?"

Jill seemed elsewhere, but managed to open her eyes a bit.

"The medics, they gave you something?"

Jill slowly shook her head. "I thrive on pain, ma'am," she said, munching the words. Then she cast a dumb smile at Rosa.

"It's the adrenaline withdrawing and the physical strain," Rosa observed. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Remove your shirt."

Jill bore a lusty smile. "Kinky!" She then simply raised her hands and waited for Rosa to undress her.

The bruise was impressive. It was located just above the right breast, a huge blue aureole surrounded by yellowish skin.

Rosa stood there a second, not knowing what to do exactly. It's not as if there was something to clean or bandage.

"Kiss it."

The order came out of nowhere, as sharp as a knife. Rosa raised an eyebrow at her.

"Please?" Jill's dozing face was pouting in a very cute —and uninhibited— way.

"What do you want me to kiss? Your wound?"

Jill cupped Rosa's face with her hands. "It'll ease up the pain."

Rosa shook her off. "Damn, you're creepy when you're high. Cute, but creepy."

This last comment made Jill chuckle, and she led Rosa's face to where her skin was bruised. "Please?"

Rosa hesitated a second. The hematoma was huge and probably very painful. She very carefully brushed the wound with the tip of her lips.

She heard Jill sigh, and felt her whole body relax. So she continued, pressing her lips a little harder, then harder, and again until Jill flinched. Now that she knew what her pain tolerance was right now, she began to embrace her whole body, hugging with her arms and stroking with her fingers. A wave of chills passed on Jill's back, under Rosa's fingers, while her lips danced around Jill's breasts, teasing her nipples and licking the sweat reeking of gunpowder.

"You're so soft... and so sweet!" Jill moaned, limp in Rosa's arms. "Do I even deserve you?"

Rosa spurted her signature chuckle, mouth muffled between her breasts. "You took a bullet for me today. How could you not deserve all the love in the world?"

"Will you spank me later?" Jill asked out of nowhere, her voice straining to the point that it was barely understandable.

Rosa. "Yeah, if you want to. But right now, rest."

"Okay..."

They stayed here a while, Jill resting her head on Rosa's shoulder, and Rosa hugging and stroking Jill in an almost-sexual way.

When Rosa's back began to hurt from the position she was stuck in, she softly asked. "How are you feeling, princess? Can you move?"

The only answer she received was Jill's slow breathing. She had fallen asleep.

Rosa shifted, careful not to wake her, and lifted her in her arms like the princess she was. While she carried her to the bedroom, she whispered loving words in her ear, and after she cautiously put her in bed, she laid alongside her.

She glanced at the wound and smiled. "I feel like life will be a lot more interesting at your side."

She passed an arm around her princess, then fell into a deep sleep.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-06-11T05:23:50Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Publié
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then puts it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, you are a human," he continues. "Above a human, you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involve de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. Your friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman standing up for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes to fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, looks at me in the eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I must apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And others'. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft, huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

The words hit me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with an ork is a death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children they may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating-up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby get executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadows all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred, even. Unlike you, they aren't cut out to be a slave."

Cut out to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress' mumbling that brings me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation into their rumored relationship. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I say to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that's been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and takes a moment to breathe. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress averts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit or withdraw.

Our mistress turns to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lowers their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeezes my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They've survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts, and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso and stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words, they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always given me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put on a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every square inch of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the surrounding crowd. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinches my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As an answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grab both of my boobs with their two hands, and begin to fondle, squeeze, and play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body is becoming electric. As if every nerve ending across my skin suddenly wakes up and gets stimulated by the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel them breathe hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reaches its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle, and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones will break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my oversensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and is already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rises. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock the size of my fist, raise their arm, and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitched voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent below me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright, and they hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling, green, tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper in my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry, the crowd is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained, and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to apologize, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight, and I stumble. I lean on my mistress, who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put on a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T17:35:44Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred gold."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understood it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things. Some investigator stuff.

Madam Kalista carries the thing as it was weightless, holding it with one leather strap over her shoulder. But as we walk through the low-class district in the heavy morning air of an ending dry season, she still is distracted. Paranoiac even. Her piercing eyes cast their gaze everywhere around us, detailing every passerby, scrutinizing every shadow, suspicion drawn by any weird noise.

I can't hold it anymore. I have to ask her what's going on.

"Is there something wr..."

She hushes me with an inquisitive finger, looking over her shoulder. A few seconds of silent observation pass until she whispers to me.

"Not now, bunny. It's dangerous. I need to stay on my toes. Let's head home, we'll figure out the rest later."

This was a strange errand we ran this morning. Nothing much to be noted, a few commission to get here and there —such as the magnifying machine— but nothing Madam couldn't have done herself. Or even I could have done on my own. I mean, I've already carried things much heavier on greater distances, so what was the point to go together.

We enter the central place of the low-class district. A familiar place I've seen dozens of times in the past weeks. Madam Kalista's house is near, at the border of the noble's neighborhood.

Now that I think about it, Madam Kalista has been real strange all day. It's her who woke me up in person, even before the sun was rising. She stayed with me the whole time, and now that I think about it...

Suddenly, my mind freezes. I realized —way too late— what indulged my mistress' behavior. It is right in front of us. Waiting for us, expecting us. With a smug, haughty smile.

Lady Morr.

It's today. Today's the end of the truce. She comes to claim her trophy slave back.

"Fuck."

Madam Kalista breathes out this single word, not in anger, but in resignation.

Lady Morr stares down at us, arms crossed, reveling in the silence that fell down on us all. By her side, the old tiefling Salista looks at us intently, with no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

Even the people of the district, feeling the electricity going on between the two naked ork ladies, draw a wide safety circle around us.

"I made my bet. And apparently I lost." tiredly said Madam Kalista.

Lady Morr, without uncrossing her arms nor departing her from her look of superiority, scoffs.

"Politics is a mind game, Kalista. Like many other things. You haven't changed much, during all this time. I can see right through any of your schemes."

The earth shakes as Madam Kalista heavily drops the delicate machinery she was carrying on the ground.

"Can you? My guess is it was pure luck."

Lady Morr can't help but openly laugh.

"Really? I ''knew'' you'd take Nasué out with you all morning to prevent me from attacking you in your home. I knew it before you even made the decision."

It's my mistress that scoffs at that answer.

"But I never made that decision."

Lady Morr squints her eyes. After a short silence, she asks:

"What do you mean?"

Madam Kalista shrugs. "Exactly what I said. I ''did not'' make the decision to take Nasué out today."

Lady Morr finally uncrosses her arms and put her two upset fists on her hips.

"Then who did?"

A clear *plink* sound is heard, and before Lady Morr, in the dust, lands a coin.

"Chance."

Lady Morr seems more and more upset. She casts an angry look at her ex-partner.

"You see, Morr. Not everything is under your control. You're too arrogant to realize that the world does not revolves around you. I already said it, but this will be your doom."

Lady Morr seems incredulous. "You betted your ownership of Nasué over a fifty-fifty chance?"

Madam Kalista frowns. "Stop me if I'm mistaken, darling, but Nasué is not your yet."

She then flexes all the muscles of her body at one, sending small droplets of sweat all round her.

"You still have to take her from me."

Lady Morr streches her arms, then take a fighting stance.

"A formality."

Then, in a collision that makes all the district shake, the only two woman who ever cared for me and whom I ever cared about throw themselves at each other in a sex-fight that will decide my future — and probably the future of the city.

I have to close my eye not to be blinded by the impact. Not that it is peculiarly blinding, but seeing my two mistresses colliding in anger is too much for me to watch.

All the people of the place is gathered —at a good distance— to witness the fight. Word probably goes by, because their numbers seem to increase with each passing minute.

Their fight is hard, they clearly match in strength, and they know each other well enough to counter every technique they each use.

This will be a battle of the mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't take one of your infamous concoctions, ''Aphromesser''."

"Humph, I don't need to drug to beat you, you failed noble."

"Really? Because it seems like you struggle more than you announced."

For now, this looks just like wrestling. I don't know if it's their pride or something else, but they both want to top, and none of them is willing to go bottom. Which is unusual. Being top doesn't mean it's easier to win, and in most sex-fight the top/bottom positions change with time.

But for them, it looks important. They try to topple their opponent, to overcome the strength of the other, to take domination. It's probable that the one that will be dominant both in mind and in strength will win.

But that may take a long time.

"You can tell, right? That Nasué is happier with me."

"Ha! If you think this is her happy face, then you ''really'' don't know her."

I do not take offense at their words. I even barely hear them. I'm just too anxious. Who will win? With whom will I spend the rest of my days?

"It's time, Nasué."

The voice of Salista at my ear makes me jump. I forgot she was here.

"It's time to make your choice."

I look at her. Her empty eyes are directed at the fight, but she doesn't seem to watch.

"Make a choice? What do you mean?"

She sighs. "You still don't get it? Even as I already told you?"

Before my dumb silence, she sighs again. "Who do you want to spend the rest of your slavery with?"

I don't know. "With the winner. It's not like as if I had a choice."

"But you do, Nasué. You even have ''power'', right now."

I don't understand a thing. "Power?"

"Yes. Look at them. Don't you get it? They are fighting for you. They both need you. They both ''want'' you. Whoever you cheer for will be the winner."

I look at the two giantess fighting for me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. As soon as you make your choice heard, the one you didn't choose will lose her composure and her determination. And thus, she will lose the fight."

She then looks at me with a piercing gaze. "Believe me. I know them both well."

Her eyes tell the truth. I know it. Indeed, I can make the scales tip to whichever side I wish.

"But... Is it my place to decide?"

"It is your ''duty'' to decide. Nasué, if you don't chose, then whoever win or lose, that won't change a thing. They will continue their quarrel, their will continue to put spokes in each other's wheels. And none of their plans will work. If you chose, then the loser will now she has truly lost, and withdraw herself. Then, the winner's projects will have a chance to be successful."

The reality of the situation is dawning on me. I feel panic birth inside my chest at the sole idea of ''chosing''.

"But who do I chose? The one whose plan is the best? Which one is it?"

Salista shrugs. "I don't know. You're the only one who knows both of their plans."

I stay there, looking at the two ork women fighting.

Then, Salista add: "Though I don't think you should chose the winner as per which plan is better."

I look at her. I see behind her empty eyes the experience of a life. She is old, she has served both ladies when they were together. Maybe she even has been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment when they finally, completely, separate from each other. I don't know.

I look at my mistresses. Image of my servitude with both of them stir in my brain. I liked them both, for different reasons.

"Should I chose with my heart then?"

Salista doesn't say a word, but I can feel her assent.

"Alright then."

A bit dizzy by the weight of all this, I step forward. The two ladies don't notice my approach. So I get a little bit closer, and then, at the top of my lung, I shout:

"ENOUGH!"

I feel my cheeks get red from an anger that was slowly building up for weeks and that I didn't know existed.

"Do you even care for me? Do you realize how petty you both are?"

The audience gasps. Kalista raises her eyebrows and Morr frowns. By standing up like this, I'm writing history here. Or maybe I'm just dooming myself to a slow death for rebelling against my mistresses. But I don't really care. This unprecedented anger is blinding me.

"But most of all: do you realize you are sabotaging yourself because of your dumb quarrel?"

I stomp the dusty ground with each sentence. I'm way out of my place, but strangely, everyone listens to me with attention.

"Do you even realize you have the same goal? That your respective plans are basically the same?"

I turn to Morr.

"You! Your plan is to legally grant citizenship to the slaves, and to convince the council you said it would make the sex-fighting scene more lively and more meritocratic, while claiming that it would never break the wall separating the classes —in other words, more competitiveness for the lower class, while the upper class stays safe. But it's all lies! You don't care about the status quo ''at all'', because you're the best. You only want this to grant citizenship to ''one specific slave''..."

She grunts, not happy that I reveal this in public, but it is an open secret, the information have leaked a few weeks back.

I then turn to Kalista.

"And you! Breaking the status quo is ''specificly'' what you're aiming to! Everyone understood that years ago! You hope slaves will intrinsically get more rights if the frontier between the classes get blurred out. And we both know for who you want it!"

I open my arms to put emphasis on the obvious.

"You're the same! The fucking same! Breaking the status quo and giving more right to the slaves! And for the same fucking person!"

"It's not the only reason." Morr grunts.

I dismiss her response with a hand. "Yes, I know. You'd also benefit from having more citizens and slaves being more independent. But I know it's not the first reason you're doing it. And don't deny it!"

She falls silent. I pant from shouting so loud.

"And you know what's the worst?" I add. "It's that if you worked together, you would have succeeded years ago!"

They both look at each other in disgust.

"We could never work together anymore. It wouldn't work. There nothing we have in common anymore."

That answer really, ''really'' pisses me off.

"YES YOU DO! ME!"

They look at me, incredulous.

"What do you mean, bunny?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. I've said it all, I spoke with my heart, and now the anger is leaving to be replaced by bitterness.

"I love you both," I manage to say with tears in my eyes, "and see how you both love me and —most importantly— Ashby. I want you both to succeed, for their sake. And for mine?"

The tears run down my cheeks.

"I can't chose between you two. And I don't want to. Because you both are loving mothers. I want to spend the rest of my days with you two."

They look at each other again, but this time with a hint of hindsight. My words seem to have shaken them, and thankfully they seem to have put their feud aside.

It's Morr who raises her voice again.

"But, Nasué, you know we can't. It is not possible for us to both be your mistresses."

I dry my tear with the back of my wrist, then I gaze deep into her eyes.

"And why the fuck not? You want to break the status quo, don't you? You want to change the rules? Then do it. Commit to your beliefs 'till the end. You know no one can stop you."

Morr has her eyes wide. She is stunned by my logic.

Kalista turns to her and shrugs.

"You know, why not after all? I know it's not how you like to do things, but she's a got a point. Several, even."

Morr scratches her chin, pensive. "I'll be damned, it could work. It is ''technically'' not against the law, I could work out a loophole. And the worst of all is..." Her gaze go between Kalista a me few times. "... I kind of like the idea."

I am dumbfounded. I didn't really expect them to agree so fast.

"Wait... Really?" I ask.

Mistress Morr shrugs. "Indeed. I know Kalista is a good mistress for you. And I don't really mind sharing custody. I don't need you every hour of every day. And the benefits of this little stunt would be huge."

Madam Kalista stretches her arms upward. "And I'm personally tired of our little squabbling. I could really go for us being neutral to each other for a while."

A low murmur roams in the crowd. They don't understand what's going on. They are disappointed with the fight being interrupted. They are beginning to feel angry...

Madam Kalista looks around, then concludes: "Well, I think we'll have to put on a show for them, to landmark the clinched deal between us three."

Mistress Morr agrees. "Indeed. I can take them on, but I don't want to risk Nasué being wounded by the mob if we fall behind their expectancies."

I fail to get the hint, and look at them with my signature dumb face.

"Well?" Kalista says, leaning a hand toward me, "don't you want to be honored by both your mistresses?"

...

...

...

When I come back to my senses, I am softly nested into Madam Kalista's arms. The crowd has disbanded, we are alone in a corner of the place. Mistress Morr sits beside us, whispering at Salista's ear. As soon as she sees I'm awake, she dismisses the tiefling and speaks to us.

"Kalista, we'll need to organize ourselves for the custody. May I suggest we switch every week? I can organize my agenda around if that's good with you. I'll let you take the first shift, of course. Is that good with you?"

Madam Kalista, as sole answer, hums while stroking my hair.

"Perfect then." Mistress Morr stands up. "I'll see you both next week. Nasué, we were perfect, as always. I rekon on having you back at the mansion. Until then, take care."

And she leaves, as gracious as she always is.

As soon as we are all alone, Madam Kalista smiles at me.

"Good graces, I never would have imagined today would have gone this way. Well done, little bunny. You truly are amazing."

I smugly smile back. "I said it before: don't underestimate me."
----A few months have passed. The rainy season is ending, and I'm checking the plants of my garden for pests.

My house is not big, but it's mine and I love it. It was a gift from both my mistresses when we slaves were finally granted the status of citizen.

I'm still a slave, of course, but only because I love it. Most slaves today are people in need and people who like being in this position — which is more than I first suspected. Nothing much as changed beside than. Only a handful of non-orks have reached the rank of lower-class citizen, and a only a few of former-slaves have found the means to leave the city. But, from time to time, we can see a slave ork, or a non-ork holding a shop. This newly acquired citizenship allows us to own land, to have our own businesses. In short, we gained a bit of independence, which for most makes the status of slave a little easier to endure.

A passerby spites on my face. My garden has no fence, and from time to time a spiteful ork decides to humiliate me.

This time, though, they shouldn't have. A tall half-ork saw the scene and came running to punch them in the face, sending them flying.

"Ashby!" I shout when I see them. "It's been too long! How've you been? Want some coffee?"

They smile while massaging their fist. They are taking courses to become a lawyer. At first, they were not very welcome, but soon their talent forced respect upon them.

"Are you not with your mistresses?" They ask once we are sit inside.

I shake "Nah. Today's off. When none of them need me, they allow me to come back home to take care of my plants."

They lightly laugh. "Does it happen often?"

I shrug. "Not that much. Not often enough for me to get bored, at least. That's all I ask for."

While the discussion goes on, my eyes linger around the house. It's hard to believe I own it. I feel fancy. A fancy slave.

The best thing is, I've never felt this happy before. Mistress Morr uses me to seduce her patron and to show off in public, while giving me the painfullest punishments for every small fault I commit, and Madam Kalista is soft, tender with me, valuing my hard work and letting me pleasure her whenever I feel, which is a lot.

I'm so happy I'm a slave.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T17:23:29Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred gold."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understood it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things. Some investigator stuff.

Madam Kalista carries the thing as it was weightless, holding it with one leather strap over her shoulder. But as we walk through the low-class district in the heavy morning air of an ending dry season, she still is distracted. Paranoiac even. Her piercing eyes cast their gaze everywhere around us, detailing every passerby, scrutinizing every shadow, suspicion drawn by any weird noise.

I can't hold it anymore. I have to ask her what's going on.

"Is there something wr..."

She hushes me with an inquisitive finger, looking over her shoulder. A few seconds of silent observation pass until she whispers to me.

"Not now, bunny. It's dangerous. I need to stay on my toes. Let's head home, we'll figure out the rest later."

This was a strange errand we ran this morning. Nothing much to be noted, a few commission to get here and there —such as the magnifying machine— but nothing Madam couldn't have done herself. Or even I could have done on my own. I mean, I've already carried things much heavier on greater distances, so what was the point to go together.

We enter the central place of the low-class district. A familiar place I've seen dozens of times in the past weeks. Madam Kalista's house is near, at the border of the noble's neighborhood.

Now that I think about it, Madam Kalista has been real strange all day. It's her who woke me up in person, even before the sun was rising. She stayed with me the whole time, and now that I think about it...

Suddenly, my mind freezes. I realized —way too late— what indulged my mistress' behavior. It is right in front of us. Waiting for us, expecting us. With a smug, haughty smile.

Lady Morr.

It's today. Today's the end of the truce. She comes to claim her trophy slave back.

"Fuck."

Madam Kalista breathes out this single word, not in anger, but in resignation.

Lady Morr stares down at us, arms crossed, reveling in the silence that fell down on us all. By her side, the old tiefling Salista looks at us intently, with no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

Even the people of the district, feeling the electricity going on between the two naked ork ladies, draw a wide safety circle around us.

"I made my bet. And apparently I lost." tiredly said Madam Kalista.

Lady Morr, without uncrossing her arms nor departing her from her look of superiority, scoffs.

"Politics is a mind game, Kalista. Like many other things. You haven't changed much, during all this time. I can see right through any of your schemes."

The earth shakes as Madam Kalista heavily drops the delicate machinery she was carrying on the ground.

"Can you? My guess is it was pure luck."

Lady Morr can't help but openly laugh.

"Really? I ''knew'' you'd take Nasué out with you all morning to prevent me from attacking you in your home. I knew it before you even made the decision."

It's my mistress that scoffs at that answer.

"But I never made that decision."

Lady Morr squints her eyes. After a short silence, she asks:

"What do you mean?"

Madam Kalista shrugs. "Exactly what I said. I ''did not'' make the decision to take Nasué out today."

Lady Morr finally uncrosses her arms and put her two upset fists on her hips.

"Then who did?"

A clear *plink* sound is heard, and before Lady Morr, in the dust, lands a coin.

"Chance."

Lady Morr seems more and more upset. She casts an angry look at her ex-partner.

"You see, Morr. Not everything is under your control. You're too arrogant to realize that the world does not revolves around you. I already said it, but this will be your doom."

Lady Morr seems incredulous. "You betted your ownership of Nasué over a fifty-fifty chance?"

Madam Kalista frowns. "Stop me if I'm mistaken, darling, but Nasué is not your yet."

She then flexes all the muscles of her body at one, sending small droplets of sweat all round her.

"You still have to take her from me."

Lady Morr streches her arms, then take a fighting stance.

"A formality."

Then, in a collision that makes all the district shake, the only two woman who ever cared for me and whom I ever cared about throw themselves at each other in a sex-fight that will decide my future — and probably the future of the city.

I have to close my eye not to be blinded by the impact. Not that it is peculiarly blinding, but seeing my two mistresses colliding in anger is too much for me to watch.

All the people of the place is gathered —at a good distance— to witness the fight. Word probably goes by, because their numbers seem to increase with each passing minute.

Their fight is hard, they clearly match in strength, and they know each other well enough to counter every technique they each use.

This will be a battle of the mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't take one of your infamous concoctions, ''Aphromesser''."

"Humph, I don't need to drug to beat you, you failed noble."

"Really? Because it seems like you struggle more than you announced."

For now, this looks just like wrestling. I don't know if it's their pride or something else, but they both want to top, and none of them is willing to go bottom. Which is unusual. Being top doesn't mean it's easier to win, and in most sex-fight the top/bottom positions change with time.

But for them, it looks important. They try to topple their opponent, to overcome the strength of the other, to take domination. It's probable that the one that will be dominant both in mind and in strength will win.

But that may take a long time.

"You can tell, right? That Nasué is happier with me."

"Ha! If you think this is her happy face, then you ''really'' don't know her."

I do not take offense at their words. I even barely hear them. I'm just too anxious. Who will win? With whom will I spend the rest of my days?

"It's time, Nasué."

The voice of Salista at my ear makes me jump. I forgot she was here.

"It's time to make your choice."

I look at her. Her empty eyes are directed at the fight, but she doesn't seem to watch.

"Make a choice? What do you mean?"

She sighs. "You still don't get it? Even as I already told you?"

Before my dumb silence, she sighs again. "Who do you want to spend the rest of your slavery with?"

I don't know. "With the winner. It's not like as if I had a choice."

"But you do, Nasué. You even have ''power'', right now."

I don't understand a thing. "Power?"

"Yes. Look at them. Don't you get it? They are fighting for you. They both need you. They both ''want'' you. Whoever you cheer for will be the winner."

I look at the two giantess fighting for me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. As soon as you make your choice heard, the one you didn't choose will lose her composure and her determination. And thus, she will lose the fight."

She then looks at me with a piercing gaze. "Believe me. I know them both well."

Her eyes tell the truth. I know it. Indeed, I can make the scales tip to whichever side I wish.

"But... Is it my place to decide?"

"It is your ''duty'' to decide. Nasué, if you don't chose, then whoever win or lose, that won't change a thing. They will continue their quarrel, their will continue to put spokes in each other's wheels. And none of their plans will work. If you chose, then the loser will now she has truly lost, and withdraw herself. Then, the winner's projects will have a chance to be successful."

The reality of the situation is dawning on me. I feel panic birth inside my chest at the sole idea of ''chosing''.

"But who do I chose? The one whose plan is the best? Which one is it?"

Salista shrugs. "I don't know. You're the only one who knows both of their plans."

I stay there, looking at the two ork women fighting.

Then, Salista add: "Though I don't think you should chose the winner as per which plan is better."

I look at her. I see behind her empty eyes the experience of a life. She is old, she has served both ladies when they were together. Maybe she even has been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment when they finally, completely, separate from each other. I don't know.

I look at my mistresses. Image of my servitude with both of them stir in my brain. I liked them both, for different reasons.

"Should I chose with my heart then?"

Salista doesn't say a word, but I can feel her assent.

"Alright then."

A bit dizzy by the weight of all this, I step forward. The two ladies don't notice my approach. So I get a little bit closer, and then, at the top of my lung, I shout:

"ENOUGH!"

I feel my cheeks get red from an anger that was slowly building up for weeks and that I didn't know existed.

"Do you even care for me? Do you realize how petty you both are?"

The audience gasps. Kalista raises her eyebrows and Morr frowns. By standing up like this, I'm writing history here. Or maybe I'm just dooming myself to a slow death for rebelling against my mistresses. But I don't really care. This unprecedented anger is blinding me.

"But most of all: do you realize you are sabotaging yourself because of your dumb quarrel?"

I stomp the dusty ground with each sentence. I'm way out of my place, but strangely, everyone listens to me with attention.

"Do you even realize you have the same goal? That your respective plans are basically the same?"

I turn to Morr.

"You! Your plan is to legally grant citizenship to the slaves, and to convince the council you said it would make the sex-fighting scene more lively and more meritocratic, while claiming that it would never break the wall separating the classes —in other words, more competitiveness for the lower class, while the upper class stays safe. But it's all lies! You don't care about the status quo ''at all'', because you're the best. You only want this to grant citizenship to ''one specific slave''..."

She grunts, not happy that I reveal this in public, but it is an open secret, the information have leaked a few weeks back.

I then turn to Kalista.

"And you! Breaking the status quo is ''specificly'' what you're aiming to! Everyone understood that years ago! You hope slaves will intrinsically get more rights if the frontier between the classes get blurred out. And we both know for who you want it!"

I open my arms to put emphasis on the obvious.

"You're the same! The fucking same! Breaking the status quo and giving more right to the slaves! And for the same fucking person!"

"It's not the only reason." Morr grunts.

I dismiss her response with a hand. "Yes, I know. You'd also benefit from having more citizens and slaves being more independent. But I know it's not the first reason you're doing it. And don't deny it!"

She falls silent. I pant from shouting so loud.

"And you know what's the worst?" I add. "It's that if you worked together, you would have succeeded years ago!"

They both look at each other in disgust.

"We could never work together anymore. It wouldn't work. There nothing we have in common anymore."

That answer really, ''really'' pisses me off.

"YES YOU DO! ME!"

They look at me, incredulous.

"What do you mean, bunny?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. I've said it all, I spoke with my heart, and now the anger is leaving to be replaced by bitterness.

"I love you both," I manage to say with tears in my eyes, "and see how you both love me and —most importantly— Ashby. I want you both to succeed, for their sake. And for mine?"

The tears run down my cheeks.

"I can't chose between you two. And I don't want to. Because you both are loving mothers. I want to spend the rest of my days with you two."

They look at each other again, but this time with a hint of hindsight. My words seem to have shaken them, and thankfully they seem to have put their feud aside.

It's Morr who raises her voice again.

"But, Nasué, you know we can't. It is not possible for us to both be your mistresses."

I dry my tear with the back of my wrist, then I gaze deep into her eyes.

"And why the fuck not? You want to break the status quo, don't you? You want to change the rules? Then do it. Commit to your beliefs 'till the end. You know no one can stop you."

Morr has her eyes wide. She is stunned by my logic.

Kalista turns to her and shrugs.

"You know, why not after all? I know it's not how you like to do things, but she's a got a point. Several, even."

Morr scratches her chin, pensive. "I'll be damned, it could work. It is ''technically'' not against the law, I could work out a loophole. And the worst of all is..." Her gaze go between Kalista a me few times. "... I kind of like the idea."

I am dumbfounded. I didn't really expect them to agree so fast.

"Wait... Really?" I ask.

Mistress Morr shrugs. "Indeed. I know Kalista is a good mistress for you. And I don't really mind sharing custody. I don't need you every hour of every day. And the benefits of this little stunt would be huge."

Madam Kalista stretches her arms upward. "And I'm personally tired of our little squabbling. I could really go for us being neutral to each other for a while."

A low murmur roams in the crowd. They don't understand what's going on. They are disappointed with the fight being interrupted. They are beginning to feel angry...

Madam Kalista looks around, then concludes: "Well, I think we'll have to put on a show for them, to landmark the clinched deal between us three."

Mistress Morr agrees. "Indeed. I can take them on, but I don't want to risk Nasué being wounded by the mob if we fall behind their expectancies."

I fail to get the hint, and look at them with my signature dumb face.

"Well?" Kalista says, leaning a hand toward me, "don't you want to be honored by both your mistresses?"

...

When I come back to myself, I am softly nested into Madam Kalista's arms. The crowd has disbanded, we are alone in a corner of the place. Mistress Morr sits beside us, whispering at Salista's ear. As soon as she sees I'm awake, she dismisses the tiefling and speaks to us.

"Kalista, we'll need to organize ourselves for the custody. May I suggest we switch every week? I can organize my agenda around if that's good with you. I'll let you take the first shift, of course. Is that good with you?"

Madam Kalista, as sole answer, hums while stroking my hair.

"Perfect then." Mistress Morr stands up. "I'll see you both next week. Nasué, we were perfect, as always. I rekon on having you back at the mansion. Until then, take care."

And she leaves, as gracious as she always is.

As soon as we are all alone, Madam Kalista smiles at me.

"Good graces, I never would have imagined today would have gone this way. Well done, little bunny. You truly are amazing."

I smugly smile back. "I said it before: don't underestimate me."
----A few months have passed. The rainy season is ending, and I'm checking the plants of my garden for pests.

My house is not big, but it's mine and I love it. It was a gift from both my mistresses when we slaves were finally granted the status of citizen.

I'm still a slave, of course, but only because I love it. Most slaves today are people in need and people who like being in this position — which is more than I first suspected. Nothing much as changed beside than. Only a handful of non-orks have reached the rank of lower-class citizen, and a only a few of former-slaves have found the means to leave the city. But, from time to time, we can see a slave ork, or a non-ork holding a shop. This newly acquired citizenship allows us to own land, to have our own businesses. In short, we gained a bit of independence, which for most makes the status of slave a little easier to endure.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T17:08:08Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred gold."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understood it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things. Some investigator stuff.

Madam Kalista carries the thing as it was weightless, holding it with one leather strap over her shoulder. But as we walk through the low-class district in the heavy morning air of an ending dry season, she still is distracted. Paranoiac even. Her piercing eyes cast their gaze everywhere around us, detailing every passerby, scrutinizing every shadow, suspicion drawn by any weird noise.

I can't hold it anymore. I have to ask her what's going on.

"Is there something wr..."

She hushes me with an inquisitive finger, looking over her shoulder. A few seconds of silent observation pass until she whispers to me.

"Not now, bunny. It's dangerous. I need to stay on my toes. Let's head home, we'll figure out the rest later."

This was a strange errand we ran this morning. Nothing much to be noted, a few commission to get here and there —such as the magnifying machine— but nothing Madam couldn't have done herself. Or even I could have done on my own. I mean, I've already carried things much heavier on greater distances, so what was the point to go together.

We enter the central place of the low-class district. A familiar place I've seen dozens of times in the past weeks. Madam Kalista's house is near, at the border of the noble's neighborhood.

Now that I think about it, Madam Kalista has been real strange all day. It's her who woke me up in person, even before the sun was rising. She stayed with me the whole time, and now that I think about it...

Suddenly, my mind freezes. I realized —way too late— what indulged my mistress' behavior. It is right in front of us. Waiting for us, expecting us. With a smug, haughty smile.

Lady Morr.

It's today. Today's the end of the truce. She comes to claim her trophy slave back.

"Fuck."

Madam Kalista breathes out this single word, not in anger, but in resignation.

Lady Morr stares down at us, arms crossed, reveling in the silence that fell down on us all. By her side, the old tiefling Salista looks at us intently, with no emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

Even the people of the district, feeling the electricity going on between the two naked ork ladies, draw a wide safety circle around us.

"I made my bet. And apparently I lost." tiredly said Madam Kalista.

Lady Morr, without uncrossing her arms nor departing her from her look of superiority, scoffs.

"Politics is a mind game, Kalista. Like many other things. You haven't changed much, during all this time. I can see right through any of your schemes."

The earth shakes as Madam Kalista heavily drops the delicate machinery she was carrying on the ground.

"Can you? My guess is it was pure luck."

Lady Morr can't help but openly laugh.

"Really? I ''knew'' you'd take Nasué out with you all morning to prevent me from attacking you in your home. I knew it before you even made the decision."

It's my mistress that scoffs at that answer.

"But I never made that decision."

Lady Morr squints her eyes. After a short silence, she asks:

"What do you mean?"

Madam Kalista shrugs. "Exactly what I said. I ''did not'' make the decision to take Nasué out today."

Lady Morr finally uncrosses her arms and put her two upset fists on her hips.

"Then who did?"

A clear *plink* sound is heard, and before Lady Morr, in the dust, lands a coin.

"Chance."

Lady Morr seems more and more upset. She casts an angry look at her ex-partner.

"You see, Morr. Not everything is under your control. You're too arrogant to realize that the world does not revolves around you. I already said it, but this will be your doom."

Lady Morr seems incredulous. "You betted your ownership of Nasué over a fifty-fifty chance?"

Madam Kalista frowns. "Stop me if I'm mistaken, darling, but Nasué is not your yet."

She then flexes all the muscles of her body at one, sending small droplets of sweat all round her.

"You still have to take her from me."

Lady Morr streches her arms, then take a fighting stance.

"A formality."

Then, in a collision that makes all the district shake, the only two woman who ever cared for me and whom I ever cared about throw themselves at each other in a sex-fight that will decide my future — and probably the future of the city.

I have to close my eye not to be blinded by the impact. Not that it is peculiarly blinding, but seeing my two mistresses colliding in anger is too much for me to watch.

All the people of the place is gathered —at a good distance— to witness the fight. Word probably goes by, because their numbers seem to increase with each passing minute.

Their fight is hard, they clearly match in strength, and they know each other well enough to counter every technique they each use.

This will be a battle of the mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't take one of your infamous concoctions, ''Aphromesser''."

"Humph, I don't need to drug to beat you, you failed noble."

"Really? Because it seems like you struggle more than you announced."

For now, this looks just like wrestling. I don't know if it's their pride or something else, but they both want to top, and none of them is willing to go bottom. Which is unusual. Being top doesn't mean it's easier to win, and in most sex-fight the top/bottom positions change with time.

But for them, it looks important. They try to topple their opponent, to overcome the strength of the other, to take domination. It's probable that the one that will be dominant both in mind and in strength will win.

But that may take a long time.

"You can tell, right? That Nasué is happier with me."

"Ha! If you think this is her happy face, then you ''really'' don't know her."

I do not take offense at their words. I even barely hear them. I'm just too anxious. Who will win? With whom will I spend the rest of my days?

"It's time, Nasué."

The voice of Salista at my ear makes me jump. I forgot she was here.

"It's time to make your choice."

I look at her. Her empty eyes are directed at the fight, but she doesn't seem to watch.

"Make a choice? What do you mean?"

She sighs. "You still don't get it? Even as I already told you?"

Before my dumb silence, she sighs again. "Who do you want to spend the rest of your slavery with?"

I don't know. "With the winner. It's not like as if I had a choice."

"But you do, Nasué. You even have ''power'', right now."

I don't understand a thing. "Power?"

"Yes. Look at them. Don't you get it? They are fighting for you. They both need you. They both ''want'' you. Whoever you cheer for will be the winner."

I look at the two giantess fighting for me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. As soon as you make your choice heard, the one you didn't choose will lose her composure and her determination. And thus, she will lose the fight."

She then looks at me with a piercing gaze. "Believe me. I know them both well."

Her eyes tell the truth. I know it. Indeed, I can make the scales tip to whichever side I wish.

"But... Is it my place to decide?"

"It is your ''duty'' to decide. Nasué, if you don't chose, then whoever win or lose, that won't change a thing. They will continue their quarrel, their will continue to put spokes in each other's wheels. And none of their plans will work. If you chose, then the loser will now she has truly lost, and withdraw herself. Then, the winner's projects will have a chance to be successful."

The reality of the situation is dawning on me. I feel panic birth inside my chest at the sole idea of ''chosing''.

"But who do I chose? The one whose plan is the best? Which one is it?"

Salista shrugs. "I don't know. You're the only one who knows both of their plans."

I stay there, looking at the two ork women fighting.

Then, Salista add: "Though I don't think you should chose the winner as per which plan is better."

I look at her. I see behind her empty eyes the experience of a life. She is old, she has served both ladies when they were together. Maybe she even has been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment when they finally, completely, separate from each other. I don't know.

I look at my mistresses. Image of my servitude with both of them stir in my brain. I liked them both, for different reasons.

"Should I chose with my heart then?"

Salista doesn't say a word, but I can feel her assent.

"Alright then."

A bit dizzy by the weight of all this, I step forward. The two ladies don't notice my approach. So I get a little bit closer, and then, at the top of my lung, I shout:

"ENOUGH!"

I feel my cheeks get red from an anger that was slowly building up for weeks and that I didn't know existed.

"Do you even care for me? Do you realize how petty you both are?"

The audience gasps. Kalista raises her eyebrows and Morr frowns. By standing up like this, I'm writing history here. Or maybe I'm just dooming myself to a slow death for rebelling against my mistresses. But I don't really care. This unprecedented anger is blinding me.

"But most of all: do you realize you are sabotaging yourself because of your dumb quarrel?"

I stomp the dusty ground with each sentence. I'm way out of my place, but strangely, everyone listens to me with attention.

"Do you even realize you have the same goal? That your respective plans are basically the same?"

I turn to Morr.

"You! Your plan is to legally grant citizenship to the slaves, and to convince the council you said it would make the sex-fighting scene more lively and more meritocratic, while claiming that it would never break the wall separating the classes —in other words, more competitiveness for the lower class, while the upper class stays safe. But it's all lies! You don't care about the status quo ''at all'', because you're the best. You only want this to grant citizenship to ''one specific slave''..."

She grunts, not happy that I reveal this in public, but it is an open secret, the information have leaked a few weeks back.

I then turn to Kalista.

"And you! Breaking the status quo is ''specificly'' what you're aiming to! Everyone understood that years ago! You hope slaves will intrinsically get more rights if the frontier between the classes get blurred out. And we both know for who you want it!"

I open my arms to put emphasis on the obvious.

"You're the same! The fucking same! Breaking the status quo and giving more right to the slaves! And for the same fucking person!"

"It's not the only reason." Morr grunts.

I dismiss her response with a hand. "Yes, I know. You'd also benefit from having more citizens and slaves being more independent. But I know it's not the first reason you're doing it. And don't deny it!"

She falls silent. I pant from shouting so loud.

"And you know what's the worst?" I add. "It's that if you worked together, you would have succeeded years ago!"

They both look at each other in disgust.

"We could never work together anymore. It wouldn't work. There nothing we have in common anymore."

That answer really, ''really'' pisses me off.

"YES YOU DO! ME!"

They look at me, incredulous.

"What do you mean, bunny?"

I suddenly feel exhausted. I've said it all, I spoke with my heart, and now the anger is leaving to be replaced by bitterness.

"I love you both," I manage to say with tears in my eyes, "and see how you both love me and —most importantly— Ashby. I want you both to succeed, for their sake. And for mine?"

The tears run down my cheeks.

"I can't chose between you two. And I don't want to. Because you both are loving mothers. I want to spend the rest of my days with you two."

They look at each other again, but this time with a hint of hindsight. My words seem to have shaken them, and thankfully they seem to have put their feud aside.

It's Morr who raises her voice again.

"But, Nasué, you know we can't. It is not possible for us to both be your mistresses."

I dry my tear with the back of my wrist, then I gaze deep into her eyes.

"And why the fuck not? You want to break the status quo, don't you? You want to change the rules? Then do it. Commit to your beliefs 'till the end. You know no one can stop you."

Morr has her eyes wide. She is stunned by my logic.

Kalista turns to her and shrugs.

"You know, why not after all? I know it's not how you like to do things, but she's a got a point. Several, even."

Morr scratches her chin, pensive. "I'll be damned, it could work. It is ''technically'' not against the law, I could work out a loophole. And the worst of all is..." Her gaze go between Kalista a me few times. "... I kind of like the idea."

I am dumbfounded. I didn't really expect them to agree so fast.

"Wait... Really?" I ask.

Mistress Morr shrugs. "Indeed. I know Kalista is a good mistress for you. And I don't really mind sharing custody. I don't need you every hour of every day. And the benefits of this little stunt would be huge."

Madam Kalista stretches her arms upward. "And I'm personally tired of our little squabbling. I could really go for us being neutral to each other for a while."

A low murmur roams in the crowd. They don't understand what's going on. They are disappointed with the fight being interrupted. They are beginning to feel angry...

Madam Kalista looks around, then concludes: "Well, I think we'll have to put on a show for them, to landmark the clinched deal between us three."

Mistress Morr agrees. "Indeed. I can take them on, but I don't want to risk Nasué being wounded by the mob if we fall behind their expectancies."

I fail to get the hint, and look at them with my signature dumb face.

"Well?" Kalista says, leaning a hand toward me, "don't you want to be honored by both your mistresses?"

...

When I come back to myself, I am softly nested into Madam Kalista's arms. The crowd has disbanded, we are alone in a corner of the place. Mistress Morr sits beside us, whispering at Salista's ear. As soon as she sees I'm awake, she dismisses the tiefling and speaks to us.

"Kalista, we'll need to organize ourselves for the custody. May I suggest we switch every week? I can organize my agenda around if that's good with you. I'll let you take the first shift, of course. Is that good with you?"

Madam Kalista, as sole answer, hums while stroking my hair.

"Perfect then." Mistress Morr stands up. "I'll see you both next week. Nasué, we were perfect, as always. I rekon on having you back at the mansion. Until then, take care."

And she leaves, as gracious as she always is.

As soon as we are all alone, Madam Kalista smiles at me.

"Good graces, I never would have imagined today would have gone this way. Well done, little bunny. You truly are amazing."

I smugly smile back. "I said it before: don't underestimate me."
----

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T16:45:21Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T16:35:55Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-09T16:17:24Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-05T14:03:07Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-05T13:32:24Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-03T15:20:09Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-06-02T19:19:35Z

Senua :

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-05-31T20:52:12Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred golds."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."

She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understand it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things ever.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/6 - Double dare

2026-05-31T20:00:35Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = Double dare
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"That'll be three hundred golds."

Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is ten feet away.

I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.

It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in in public the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share it she would have.

"Three. Hundred. Gold."

Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.

"Madam? We can leave now."

She snaps back to reality.

"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's to heavy for you to carry."

She relieve me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understand it's a kind of device to observe small thing. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things ever.

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T19:38:38Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Pulblié
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then puts it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, you are a human," he continues. "Above a human, you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involve de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. Your friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman standing up for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes to fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, looks at me in the eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I must apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And others'. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft, huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

The words hit me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with an ork is a death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children they may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating-up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby get executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadows all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred, even. Unlike you, they aren't cut out to be a slave."

Cut out to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress' mumbling that brings me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation into their rumored relationship. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I say to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that's been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and takes a moment to breathe. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress averts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit or withdraw.

Our mistress turns to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lowers their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeezes my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They've survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts, and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso and stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words, they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always given me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put on a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every square inch of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the surrounding crowd. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinches my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As an answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grab both of my boobs with their two hands, and begin to fondle, squeeze, and play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body is becoming electric. As if every nerve ending across my skin suddenly wakes up and gets stimulated by the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel them breathe hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reaches its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle, and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones will break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my oversensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and is already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rises. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock the size of my fist, raise their arm, and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitched voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent below me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright, and they hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling, green, tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper in my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry, the crowd is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained, and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to apologize, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight, and I stumble. I lean on my mistress, who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put on a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T12:33:53Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then puts it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, you are a human," he continues. "Above a human, you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involve de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. Your friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman standing up for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes to fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, looks at me in the eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I must apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And others'. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft, huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

The words hit me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with an ork is a death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children they may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating-up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby get executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadows all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred, even. Unlike you, they aren't cut out to be a slave."

Cut out to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress' mumbling that brings me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation into their rumored relationship. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I say to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that's been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and takes a moment to breathe. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress averts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit or withdraw.

Our mistress turns to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lowers their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeezes my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They've survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts, and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso and stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words, they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always given me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put on a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every square inch of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the surrounding crowd. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinches my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As an answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grab both of my boobs with their two hands, and begin to fondle, squeeze, and play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body is becoming electric. As if every nerve ending across my skin suddenly wakes up and gets stimulated by the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel them breathe hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reaches its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle, and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones will break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my oversensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and is already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rises. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock the size of my fist, raise their arm, and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitched voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent below me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright, and they hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling, green, tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper in my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry, the crowd is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained, and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to apologize, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight, and I stumble. I lean on my mistress, who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put on a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T12:10:14Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then puts it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, you are a human," he continues. "Above a human, you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involve de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. Your friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman standing up for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes to fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, looks at me in the eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I must apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And others'. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft, huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

The words hit me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with an ork is a death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children they may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating-up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby get executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadows all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred, even. Unlike you, they aren't cut out to be a slave."

Cut out to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said, "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T12:04:22Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stanch your parchedness today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometimes serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, Master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain from calling an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass or a cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse do you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismiss me. You know Ashby, always to themself. But all in all, they are in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks into her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T11:40:44Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait for me where we separated. He tells me she went to a rather shady tea shop, 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown, fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice two empty teacups and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, which the stranger returned, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries and gives them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin now, right?" observes the lady stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself, though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup, and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, I almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it, she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never ever scolded me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touches her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger doesn't seem to like it very much.

"There are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me?" She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure I can address any concern you have."

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain from displaying a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intend the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stiletto out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seems to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards were listening at the door and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the doorframe, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she takes me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flushes against her dick. Without much thought, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nibble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relax, splaying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder, and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick with my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieves her of all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nests my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm take over, and she starts pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breathe happen sporadically when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and stroke her anus. That's when it begins to twitch under my caresses that I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder and so fast that I can't breathe anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much that I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently strokes my hair, still trying to sort out her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional, but their body language betrays them. The lady stranger —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress, and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me an embroidered towel.

Then, with undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent, handmade, ankle-long, gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride, I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt our little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent, which seems to match the strange embroidered robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer, though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There is clearly some subtext to all he said, and his words struck true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T09:12:59Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh, and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which I'm certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds crisscrossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire-red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then. Even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem with which Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body, and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few questions pop in my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "It is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood workers' union, which is a kind of political group that serves as the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are dissensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to go fetch my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on track. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distorts under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every piece of information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to be honest, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even fewer really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or tries to make us destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before he was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seems to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance, and pulls me into a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand is pressing against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight, so I'm unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by what I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, that of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress Morr's worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs are already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what all that was. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, if it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft, silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I repackage my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her of this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package is stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, put on a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then looks back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here? Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully, who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resumes her work as if nothing happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fear my mistress, but not in the same way they fear Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really values her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacups, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger lady. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scolds to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language betrays them. The stranger lady —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T08:51:16Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo's face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her than her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you, mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which Iḿ certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance and pulls me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, one of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacups, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger lady. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scolds to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language betrays them. The stranger lady —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-31T08:49:41Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me, and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know how the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living is not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glassblower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, which also seems to be the reason for our presence here. I'm relieved to see her ''finally'' smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere, and Madam Kalista needed another set of hands. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress has been walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation, I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many, as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seems to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you on behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which Iḿ certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance and pulls me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, one of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacups, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger lady. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scolds to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language betrays them. The stranger lady —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-30T23:01:00Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which Iḿ certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance and pulls me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, one of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacups, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger lady. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scolds to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language betrays them. The stranger lady —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen really often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. And not in the mood. I'll see him later tonight."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This'll be the first step."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reached the swanky side of the city. A kind of large marketplace with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and a considerable part of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight.

The mere sight of them twists my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drops a bomb:

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''our'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and wrapped in their perennial black toga, gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? A scandal? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they've always had me a good vibe. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing my wonderful dress.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body in becoming electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frotting their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their own hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bites my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision goes blank, my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the strong arms of the half-ork. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stiffen, clenching my hand so hard that I fear that my bones would break, then relax, a deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really getting all of what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brushes my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gently! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own pussy and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation, making sure to press against their G-spot with each insertion.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...being stopped in their tack by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here, trying to trigger a scandal of some sort. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, don't stop, ''please'' don't stop!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as I must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see that my mistress' face is painted with satisfaction.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. Indeed, my legs can't even support my own weight and I stumble. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?" I ask

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking into one of the small side alleys Madam Kalista knows like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-30T22:31:40Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks down on me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride would let them work in the sewers, we indeed have several master artisans amongst the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties when they were both busy.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her errands. An investigation I guess? We'll see.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greet Madam Kalista. Each exchange a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or or work relations, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's being betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she new?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basics of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her pretty face."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and dives into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gives me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, which Iḿ certainly thankful for. All the more as we climb the two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell is so strong here that I'm sure that if I remove the cloth, I'll straight up vomit my guts.

The murder itself is unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, is resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wounds criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. And I was not thinking about thieves, more like orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nods in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're used to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seems to address me.

All three of us round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to her. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, for some time now the adjunct has always been of the opposite faction of the acting mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed by the question, but I'm positive that it would have eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder and ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information in my head to make sure I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one in the union. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken the union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his was murdered?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their rights respected. And even if they hold power over the likes of me, they are all forced to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, throws me out of balance and pulls me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assailant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me from behind doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their face.

By pure survival reflex again, I obey and stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, one of an old woman. And I don't know why, but I feel that I'm supposed to know her.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

I try to speak, and she removes her hand from my mouth. "Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was your dumbness simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and stupid words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old one."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery that will soon decide the future of the city and which cogs already in motion."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted from our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she's talking about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, a hand still firmly holding my shoulder, but I feel a package being shoved into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiatives — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

I hope.

My hands are still shaking from the aggression. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicately open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has salient muscles matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some noble. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve it for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded face, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I lock my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage:

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly —I'm just repeating the text I was told— but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The orks fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''does'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacups, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This was all said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her, but with a pinch of salt that transpired from both of their manners.

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the pouches she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger lady. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She takes the teapot and serves my mistress. When she pours for herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, barely visible between the motifs of the porcelain, is a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scolds to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a flash, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the assailant is thrown against the side wall, then pinned down by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfa.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"Bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

"But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

This feels unnatural, but I nod in obedience. After all, she's got a point, right? I need to stay in good shape to serve her the best I can, right?

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod again. "Yes, madam. I promise."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline crashing.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language betrays them. The stranger lady —she who spoke— has her eyes wide open in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my head the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:32:17Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scold to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her mouth. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylet out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenaline fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger lady is thrown against the side wall, then pinned against it by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew it open as soon as the assailant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old male ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to protest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry. Probably the adrenaline withdrawal.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breasts. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small beads of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large salty drops of precum erupt from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull in her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the small crowd in the even smaller room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every few seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus clenching on my finger so strongly that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheathes her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guards try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a embroidered towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, little bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bent with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serves as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answers Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheers while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcohol for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exaggeratedly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea wid notes of walnut and violet. Strong on the papillae but wid a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh. Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks in her glass, making the ice cube inside move in circling motions.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stays with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork takes his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he addresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turns around. His eyes are misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expect an answer from her, but it takes a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts nor the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny hand on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, sometimes severed fingers for late payments. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

Then I am reminded my mistress was supposed to have other duties today.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:02:53Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never scold to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:02:06Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook: ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:01:31Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but don't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:00:58Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T22:00:27Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T21:59:32Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, miladies," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T21:58:04Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, thoughtful fingers pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, misses," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I turn in my mind the words Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

"Should we go see Jencyo, now?"

She shake her head. "No time. I'll see him tomorrow morning."

We walk a bit in silence, then she stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-28T21:53:44Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, a thoughtful thumb pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, misses," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I repeat the word Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

She then stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

"Sure," they say with a smirk. "Come sit on my face," they add while lying down in the dust.

I obey, covering their entire upper body with my dress. As soon as their mouth brush my cunt, a jolt of electricity shakes my whole body.

"Gentle! Please!" I beg, feeling my over-sensitive pussy pulsing.

"Of course, Nasué. You'll set the rhythm."

They rest their head, waiting for me to come down on them. As soon as I make contact and rub my groin against their face, they slowly lick it back. This is sluggish —in a good way— numbing out the pleasure, making it bearable.

My legs shake, and I fall forward on their belly. They are way taller than me, but I'm flexible enough to reach out to their own cunt and begin to play with it. They moan on my clit in their low voice. The vibrations feel so good I can't help but moan in turn.

The flaming ball of pleasure is once again starting to burn inside me, and already extending its tendrils inside my arms and legs.

"When I tell you, you go crazy, okay?"

They give me a muffled assent. I look at the white fluids escaping from their pussy, then effortlessly slide two fingers inside. In response, they begin to suck my swollen clit. I yelp from the surprise attack, and proceed to insert more fingers in retaliation.

We continue this ballet, the passersby's indignation being louder as our pleasure rise. They are no longer pretending to not see us, they surround us and throw half-spoken insults at us. I even see one of them grab a rock of the size of my fist, raise their arm and...

...are stopped in their motion by Madam Kalista. They exchange dagger eyes, but the rock falls back down on the ground. I almost forgot we were performing here. Since Ashby's face is covered up by my dress, I need to be sure that there is no ambiguity, so I call out their name.

"Oh yes, Ashby, destroy my slutty cunt, I beg you!"

Then I proceed to fuck them with my whole fist.

My whole body is burning. My clit hurts from the pleasure, but the pleasure overflows the pain. Each time my fist disappears between Ashby's thick lips, I feel a hard stroke on my clit. I try to vent the pleasure by fucking them harder, but since they do the same, we are stuck in a vicious spiral leading us both to the pinnacle of carnal bliss.

The ball in my belly is about to explode, so I pull the train of my dress up so everyone can witness what is about to happen, and call out to Ashby.

"Now! Ashby, make me cum, ''now''!"

As asked, they go crazy on me, and for a second I go fully blind. My cunt feels like I'm being struck by lightning, making my whole body continually jerk around. I cry out in a high-pitch voice, gargling in my own saliva. I feel that my hand is still stuck in their pussy, so I instinctively go crazy too, and a strong grunt erupts from between my legs. I feel Ashby cumming, arc-bent bellow me.

When I fall on the ground, numb and dumb, I feel their big hands gently pulling me towards them upright and hug me. I pry open my eyes, which is painful because of the dust and the rays of the setting sun, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a smiling green tusked face, looking as dumb as must look.

This feels great. They kiss my forehead and whisper to my ear.

"This was amazing. I don't fuck very often, but this was... An experience."

I just smile and say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"My whole body hurts. This feels very good."

And then we both chuckle, lost in the moment, still panting from the double-orgasm. Then a big shadow leans over us. It's our mistress.

"Are you done, my beloved partners in crime? If you want to go for a third round, you better hurry up, the crown is starting to disperse."

"I think we're done for now," Ashby answers. "I feel drained and I bet Nasué can't walk straight. If she can walk at all."

I'm about to say sorry, but I see my mistress' face better now, and she is smiling wide.

"Very well then. I suppose I'll carry you both home now."

She helps us get on our feet. And indeed my legs can't even support my own weight. I lean on my mistress who heaves me up on her shoulder.

"Did we put up a good show?"

She laughs as she gives her free arm to Ashby for support.

"Yes, little bunny. You did. Everything went as I hoped it would."

We leave the place, walking in the small side alleys that Madam Kalista known like the back of her hand.

"Now, I'll pour you both a hot bath and order dinner from the best caterer I know. You need to rest, because this is just the beginning..."

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-20T21:15:25Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, a thoughtful thumb pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, misses," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I repeat the word Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

She then stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

While I'm struggling to stay conscious, I feel my hand clenched hard between Ashby's thighs. They hump my hand hard, nipping on my ear, trying not to wound me but shaken by the pleasure. They go harder, and harder, until they stand still,. clenching my hand so hard I think my bone would break, then relaxing, et deep sigh of satisfaction uttered to my ears.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

...

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-20T19:04:16Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, a thoughtful thumb pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, misses," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I repeat the word Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

She then stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands. I let myself moan loudly to accompany these new sensations.

I feel Ashby frot their cunt on my hand, which I press hard against Them. Their hands continue to play their wonderful symphony everywhere on me, slithering and finding every bit of sensitive spot I hide beneath my gorgeous dress.

I feel Them breathing hard on my neck, and as the feeling of the silk fondling my skin reach its peak, they gently bite my collarbone.

This is my sweet spot. A ball of warmth births deep in my belly, then quickly expands, as if the fabric stroking me everywhere was stimulating it at an alarming rate.

"Don't stop!" I beg.

The pleasure is on the brink of exploding inside me, when Ashby shifts their mouth and bite my ear.

Suddenly, everything explodes inside me. My vision go blank and my knees buckle and I collapse, held uptight only by the half-ork strong arms. I feel a strand of drool dripping from my dumbstruck mouth. I cling to their forearms not to fall on the dusty ground.

A few seconds pass, and I'm still shivering from the pleasure. The dress still brushes against my oversensitive skin, the remnants of the orgasm failing to dissipate entirely. My head is still dizzy, but I can perceive my surroundings —and the beautiful face of my partner— again.

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

...

Littérature:Smut/My (fancy) life as a slave/5 - The society's underskirts

2026-05-17T13:38:54Z

Senua :

{{ Modèle:Littérature:Manuscrit
| titre = The society's underskirts
| livre = My (fancy) life as a slave
| type = Chapitre
| etat = Brouillon
}}
"How did a noblewoman become a private eye?"

The question unhinges my mistress. She comes out of her reverie, slows her pace a little —thank gods, I have little legs— and looks at me with an inquisitive frown.

"What do you mean?" She asks, dodging passers-by with her huge frame in this small alley.

I shrug, not knowing what to answer. "I don't know. It's strange for a noble person to work a middle-class job."

She gazes at me from above, eyes gauging as if wondering whether I am joking or just plain mad.

We arrive in the grand place that is the literal and economic center of the middle-class neighborhood in which we have an errand to run. My mistress stops, turns to me and crosses some puzzled arms.

"I don't get it, bunny. What are you babbling about? Middle-class job? You know of the class system works here, right? About sex-fights, slave claiming, and everything?"

I nod. "Of course."

"So what's it have to do with jobs?"

I'm at a loss for words. "You mean, what you do for a living in not related to your social status?"

She relaxes a bit, beginning to understand the misunderstanding.

"Yes, it is related to our social status, but not to our social class."

It's my turn to be puzzled. "You mean, your social class isn't related to your social status then?"

She chuckles at my naivety. "Of course it is. Social status is defined by social class ''and'' profession, but these two are not related to each other."

I finally begin to understand. "So, that means you can have a noble person cleaning the sewers and a commoner being a master jeweler?"

She laughs out loud. "In theory. But while I doubt a noble's pride wouldn't let them work in the sewer, we indeed have several master artisans among the lower class."

I feel stupid as I remember that Algum, the best glass-blower in town and personal supplier of Lady Morr, is indeed a fully-clothed commoner.

But that's not important. By asking this question, my goal was to distract my mistress from what seemed to gnaw at her since yesterday, and the reason of our presence here. I'm relieved to see her —finally— smiling, even if she's only amused by my innocence.

It's been five days since I began to serve Madam Kalista, and today's my first day in the field. I know a bit of her trade now, explained to me by Madam herself and Ashby when they had the time, while I worked some administrative duties the rest of the time.

But today, Ashby was needed elsewhere and Madam Kalista wanted another set of hands to help her. I don't know what we're going to do —my mistress being walled in that frowning reverie since that message she received the other day— but she deemed me ready to assist her in one of her investigations.

As we make our way through the grand place, several commoners and a few bourgeois warmly greeted Madam Kalista. Each exchanged a few words with her, but not too many as everyone seems to know how busy she can be.

This feels a lot different from my time with Lady Morr. Back then, the only relations Lady Morr seemed to have were either competitive —with orks wanting to claim me— or subordinate, like Algum. Here, everybody seem to know my mistress and to like her. This feels refreshing.

"Come, Nasué, we're almost there."

As my mistress guides me toward a thoroughfare, a tall and handsome male ork intercepts us.

"Excuse-me, Lady Kalista, could I have a minute of your time?"

The ork was tall —taller than Madam Kalista, and taller than most orks I've ever seen— wearing only a black tank-top which was too small for his muscular torso. The man was all in muscles, hairless in every part of his body except his face, where he displayed a thinly-cut beard and a short mohawk haircut, and his bushy cunt.

My mistress turns up to him. "Jencyo! Drop the 'Lady', will you? We've known each other for years, no need to be so formal!"

He smiles. "It's just that I come to you in behalf of the neighborhood council. I have a very urgent request..."

My mistress crosses her arms. "I'm truly sorry, but I can't right now. I have urgent business myself to tend to..."

Jencyo joins his hands in a pleading gesture. "Please! There's been a..."

He interrupts himself, then brings his mouth closer to Madam Kalista to avoid the eavesdropping crowd.

"There's been a murder, Kal. I smell foul's play from up above. I need someone trustworthy on it. The body's cooling down, I need you right now."

My mistress' eyes widen at the revelation. But still, she shakes her head.

"I see. I really want to help, but I can't."

Jencyo face decomposed as if he's been betrayed.

"However... I can't lend you my slave. She'll do a report for me. As soon as my errand is dealt with, I'll get on it."

Jencyo's eyes turn to me.

"Her? I've never seen you with a slave, Kal. Aside from Ashby, of course. Is she knew?"

Madam Kalista puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, she is. But don't worry, I taught her the basic of the trade, and I suspect there's more to her that her beauty."

Jencyo widely smiles at me. "Okay then. Follow me... What's your name?"

"Nasué," I answer. "Pleased to meet you mister Jencyo."

He laughs with his low voice. "Just 'Jencyo' will do, Nasué. Let's go, I'll show you the deed."

He turns away and begins to dive into the crowd. "Thanks, Kal," he throws back. "I owe you!"
----The smell is rancid. Like nothing I've ever smelled before. I always associated the fragrance of death with the smell of ashes and burnt bodies —which smells a lot like burnt pork, reason why I can't eat pork anymore— but here, the odor is rancid, acrid, harsh and bathed in an aftertaste of iron.

Jencyo gave me a wet cloth to put over my mouth and nose, and I thanked him for that. All the more when we climbed two flights of stairs to get to the place of the deed. The smell was so strong that I knew that if I removed the cloth, I'd straight up vomit.

The murder itself was unimpressive. A male ork body, fully naked, was resting on its belly in a pool of its own blood, a set of wound criss-crossing his back.

In the room is waiting another male ork, which I figure is an assistant of some sort to Jencyo. I am a bit unhinged by his gaze, I feel that he recognized me.

"Do you have something to take notes with?" Jencyo asks.

I shake my head. "No need. Plus, this is confidential info. I don't want it taken away on my way back to Madam Kalista."

"There are few thieves 'round here. You should be okay."

I shake my head again. "I won't take any chance. Plus, I was not thinking about thieves, but about orks wanting to claim me."

Jencyo opens his mouth to answer, but his interrupted by his assistant. "She is the slave that caused a commotion a while back, isn't she? Morr's slave. ''Fire red hair and smug green eyes'', I was told."

I nod. "Although I do not serve under Lady Morr anymore. My mistress is Madam Kalista".

"I see." Jencyo slowly nod in understanding. "Good call then, even if the chances are low, there's still a risk that you'll be specifically targeted. I'm sure you're use to it, but still, be wary."

I smile a bit dumbly at the esteem Jencyo seem to address me.

Jencyo, his assistant and I round up around the body and Jencyo begins to summarize their discoveries.

"This is —was— Ulrest, the mayor's adjunct and main opposition to him. We found him two days ago, and closed the building to the public ever since."

My rusty neurons begin to activate, and a few question pop at the top of my head.

"Wait wait wait... Mayor? Opposition? Two days ago?"

Jencyo crosses his arms. "This is not important that you know about the local politics, so I'll make it short. '<nowiki/>''Mayor''' is not an official term. She's the leader of the neighborhood worker's union, who more or less is a political group that is the voice and eyes of the commoners for the nobles. There are distensions inside this party and mainly two opposing factions. To ease the dialog between the two factions, the adjunct is of the opposite faction of the mayor. The current mayor is favored by the higher-ups, that's why I feel that the murder of the leader of her opposition is political."

I slowly integrate all this new information in my head.

"But why did you wait two whole days to fetch for my mistress?"

He sighs. "Because I did not want to raise suspicions. I tried my best to contact Kalista since then without leaving my duties and alarming anyone, but failed 'till she showed up directly here."

He seems annoyed, but understands that this question would eventually been asked by my mistress.

He resumes his summary. "He's been found by my clerk Gusf here when he was opening for business. He immediately closed the building and called for me. Since I'm the chief urbanist around, I justified this by stating the infrastructure was dangerous and that the building should be deserted for a few days."

"Okay," I say, trying to stay on tracks. "What did the mayor say about his adjunct? Doesn't she wonder where he is?"

Jencyo's mouth distort under the problem. "She begins to. No word for a day and maybe he's busy or sick —and let's be honest, she was probably delighted to not have him around for once— but now that he's deserted his function for two days, people are starting to wonder ask around. I won't be able to keep this secret for long. His death will eventually have to be known, but I want Kalista on it before there is a general panic and witch hunts plaguing the neighborhood."

I repeat every information to myself to make sur I remember it.

"Do you have any suspect in mind?"

He scratches his chin. "Not the mayor, at least, if you're wondering. She's favored by the nobility, but she serves the cause, she defends the working class against all. Killing a fellow activist is not in her best interest. It's in the interest of no one from any factions. We can't exclude individual jealousy, but to tell true, being mayor or adjunct is not a position of power. It's a position of mediation, one that few people can handle and even few really want. As I said twice already, my best guess is that some noble wants to weaken our union, or even tries to make ourselves destroy each other in an internecine feud."

This is complicated. I'm glad I'm just a slave, so I don't have to think about this all day. I repeat everything out loud to make sure I didn't omit anything.

"Then you're good to go, I guess," Jencyo says. "Please press Kal on the urgency of the matter. I know she's well-considered and will make space in her agenda for this case. I really need her."

I nod. "One last thing, though. Is it common for victims of murder to have been raped before their death?"

They both look at the body, then back to me.

"What do you mean?" Jencyo asks.

"Sorry, it's kind of my first murder. I just wondered if that was a common thing. But nevermind, I won't bother you with this."

As I turn to leave, Jencyo shakes his arms around to stop me.

"Wait! I don't understand, are you saying that this man was raped before his murder?"

I shrug. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The fluids between his legs, the bruises on his thighs, the spots of blood between his butt cheeks... He was either raped or had a sex fight right before his death. Did you not notice?"

Jencyo laughs sourly. "No we didn't. It's obvious only to you, Nasué. Good job noticing."

I shrug again. "I'm sure Madam Kalista would have noticed too. So I take it it's not a common thing?"

Jencyo shakes his head, a thoughtful thumb pinching his chin. "No. And I don't know what to make of it. I'll just wait for Kal to come and try to solve this."

He sighs. "Anyway. You're good to go, Nasué. And again, good job."

I nod. "Goodbye, misters. Don't worry, I'll find my way back." And I leave the building.

In the street, I can't help but pity these orks. Obligated to undergo these political affairs, just to see their right respected. And even if they hold power over the like of me, they are all force to practice the sex-customs of their kind. In a way, they all are sex-slaves too.

But they seem happy? Every ork I see here on the street seem to work hard for their community and, to some extent, enjoy it? So that's the power of union, of community?

After all, I'm a sex slave and I'm happy. Even after being claimed by Madam Kalista. Oh, I know I'm lucky, the only two masters I had are the best I could ever dream of, but still. I'm a slave, and I'm happy.

I am suddenly pulled away from my thought by a hand that firmly grabs my arm, pulls me out of balance and throws me in a dark alley.

Before I can see the face of my assaillant, a blade is brushing my throat, and a skeletal hand press against my mouth.

This is not an ork. This is an assassin.

By sheer reflex, I begin to flounder, failing to break free. The person holding me doesn't seem to be stronger nor bigger than me, but my back is arched back against them, dragged by their weight and unable to gain any footing.

"Stop moving or you're dead meat," a sharp voice orders me, slightly muffled by I guess is a cloth masking their mouth.

By pure survival reflex again, I stop moving. The voice is low and incisive, but I don't why, I'm pretty sure it's the voice of an older woman.

"Are you happy, Nausé? Are you happy with the life you have know?"

Okay, I'm certain now, I ''know'' this voice.

"You sure seem happy, Nasué. I'm glad for you. ''Really'' glad. But beware, young one. Because I know some people who could see this as treason. People you'll be very sad to disappoint."

Oh fuck. I know who this is.

"Salista? What are you doing here? What to you want with me?"

The tiefling chuckles. "You're less dumb than I know of you, visibly. Is it working with Mistress' Morr worst enemy that bolstered your wits? Or was it simply an act for our beloved mistress?"

I frown, and dumb words spurt out of my mouth before I can prevent it. "My mistress is Madam Kalista!"

The knife is pressed harder against my throat.

"I know. But is she? What do you think will happen at the end of the month? Will Lady Kalista resist? Or will Mistress Morr reclaim what is rightfully hers?"

I swallow. "It's not really up to me, is it? Whatever happens, I'll be the slave of the winner..."

Salista let a dark chuckle out against my ear. "That's where you are wrong, young one. You have a choice to make. Either you embrace your time of servitude with Lady Kalista, and thus betray Mistress Morr, or you resist to your new mistress, thus betraying her in favor of your old mistress."

I don't understand. What does anything have to do with me? I'm just a slave, I'm supposed to obey. Surely Lady Morr will not blame me for my time of servitude with Madam Kalista, will she?

Before my thoughtful silence, Salista resumes her monologue. "Do you even realize the political entanglement that surrounds Mistress Morr, Lady Kalista and you? You're not dumb enough to ignore all of it. You ''surely'' realize there is more to it than the sole possession of a trophy slave. You are a celebrity, Nasué. But more than that, you are at the center of a machinery which cogs are already in motion and will soon decide the future of the city."

She takes a deep breath. She seems a bit exhausted by our discussion.

Surely, she is talking about my feat the other week. This was not a minor event, it was a first-of-a-kind kind of event. But what is this 'machinery' she talks about? Could it be related to what Lady Morr said to the council on the same day?

"You have a choice to make, Nasué. Kalista or Morr. You can't go around it. It's a gamble, but it's important."

The pressure of the knife releases.

"I came here for two reasons. The first was to deliver you this message. The second, is here."

I still can't see Salista, but I feel a package being shove into my hands.

"Courtesy of your beloved mistress."

Then Salista breaks away from me and runs into the shadows of the alley.

I wonder what was all that. This so-called 'message'. Was it Lady Morr's message or Salista's own initiative? Hard to tell, my ex-mistress' assassin —I mean, retailer— was known across the house to take initiative — and usually good ones. If that's the case, If it's Salista's own initiative to tell me about all this, then at least that means she's on my side.

Or at least a bit, I guess.

My hands are still shaking. The package is wrapped in soft silky plain paper, attached with a simple ribbon. I delicatly open it...

''OH MY GODS!''

It's my dress! The one Mistress Morr —''Lady'' Morr— gave to me that day!

I guess Madam Kalista followed up with my request. I'm so glad!

I want to wear it ''right now'', but it's not the place nor the context. I re-package my dress and exit the alley...

... only to be instantly stopped by a female ork.

"There there, little shit. Where are you going like that?"

She is not that tall, but has saliant muscle matching her visible profession: carpenter. There are several tools at her belt, planks against the wall beside her, and her colleague is giving her a weary glare.

"Fuck it, girl, we have work to do. Leave the slave alone."

My bully shakes her head, a big smile uncovering her teeth and tusks. "No way. Not before I get this package from her hands."

I clench my package. ''No! Everything but his!''

The colleague stops his work to look at me. "She looks like she's owned by some nobie. Don't claim her, it'd be stupid."

She extends a hand and grabs the package. "I'll just relieve her from this. Let go, lil' cunt!"

Okay, things don't look good for me. If my package's stolen, my mistress will probably retrieve for me, but there's no guarantee it'll be intact. Plus, I developed a bit of pride these last few weeks.

I could use my fame to frighten her... but I don't want to draw attention. There is only one thing left for me to do: use the technique Madam Kalista taught me.

Without letting my package go, I relax, take a jaded fate, and turn my head to her colleague.

"Excuse-me, mister, would you kindly give me her name?"

He is dumbfounded by my unexpected question. She burst into laughter.

"Why do you care about my name, lil' shit?"

I locked my eyes into hers and say in the most serious voice I can manage.

"Because I'm sure Lady Kalista will want to know the identity of the impudent stealing from her slave."

I don't know what 'impudent' means exactly, but I'm certain it fits her. As expected, she is instantly frightened by the evocation of Madam Kalista's name.

She recoils, throwing a "Fuck!" out in the air. She pants a bit, then look back at me. "Well, what are you still doing here. Scram!"

I turn my head to her colleague once again. "Well? You didn't answer my question."

He pinches his nose while my bully's face is drawn to horror.

"Excuse her impudence, slave. She won't bother you again, I promise. Please be kind and refrain from reporting her. She's not worth it."

He says these word with calculated slowness. It shows that he's not used to address to nobility.

I keep a stern face. "I'm sorry, dear mister, but I'm just a slave, it's not up to me to grace my aggressors. I'm just following my mistress' orders."

He sighs. "Fine. Her name is..."

He is interrupted by the bully who suddenly stands straight.

"Wait! It's my responsibility." With a hand, she dismisses her colleague, then stands proud right in front of me. "I take full responsibility for my actions. Tell Kalista that my name is Frauen, and that I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I'm ready for whatever repayment she sees fit."

Then she turns around and resume her work as if nothing ever happened.

This is really impressive. The ork fears my mistress, but not in a way they feared Lady Morr. This Frauen ''did'' care what Madam Kalista thinks of her. Looks like everyone around here really value her, even considering she's noble and they are not.
----I have no idea where my mistress had gone, but fortunately she sent a boy to wait me where we separated, to tell me she went to a —rather shady— tea shop: 'The Sour Almond'.

Inside, I tell the waiter that I am expected, and they lead me to a private room, far away from the front store. Inside, seated on cozy sofas and a teapot between them, my mistress and an unknown fully naked ork woman are chatting.

They both turn to me when I step in.

"Good afternoon, misses," I say while bowing to the stranger. "I am Nasué, slave of Lady Kalista." I notice the two empty teacup, and move to take them. "Shall I serve you?"

My mistress cuts this endeavor short with a sharp voice.

"No need to, Nasué. Our hostess here can take care of it herself. I need you to sit by me and take notes of our discussion."

This all was said with a friendly smile on her face, that the stranger returned her. They are both apparently relaxed and amiable, but I feel a small tension between them. I couldn't put my finger on why, though...

I obey my mistress and sit next to her. She fetches a notebook and a fountain pen from one of the few pouch she carries around, and give them to me.

"So, I believe we can begin, now, right?" observes the stranger. "Plus, the tea should be at the right temperature now. Please let me."

She take the teapot and serve my mistress. When she serves herself though, I notice a slight shift of her thumb. Given her lordly manners, I find it a bit odd, but doesn't extrapolate until she sets the teapot down.

On it, hidden inside the motifs of the porcelain, I see a small hole. Right where her thumb was. Then, that means...

I refrain from having a strong reaction when I realize what just happened. She obstructed the hole when serving herself, but only herself. Shit, this is a fucking assassin's teapot!

In the meantime, my mistress picked up her teacup and she's now bringing it up to her mouth.

I lose no time. I scribble a warning on a blank page of the notebook, like ''<nowiki/>'don't drink — poison'.''

"Oh, mistress, i almost forgot: I have an urgent message from the person I just went to see. See for yourself."

And I show her the message, and before she even reads it she rips the page off and scolds me.

"Nasué! This is highly inappropriate! No message is urgent enough for this kind of disrespect! I never want you to do something like this again! Understood?"

I am dumbfounded. She never talked to me like that. My heart breaks at the fact that I'm a disappointment and that she will imminently drink the poison.

I lower my head and my voice. "I'm sorry, mistress."

While she apologizes to the stranger, my eyes are fixed on the poisoned cup that quickly closes the distance to her lips. The cup touch her lips, tilts, and my mistress loudly sips the poisoned tea.

I wait a few seconds, while the two are talking, waiting for the effects to come. A few minutes, even. And then...

"Nasué? Are you taking notes? You are not daydreaming, are you?"

I snap back in the moment. "Yes, no! Of course not, mistress!"

I lower my head and begin to take notes. Madam Kalista and the stranger are talking about my mistress' 'project'. They do not explicitly tell what's it about —they both seem to know the details, but for whatever reason won't say it out loud— but the stranger don't seem to like it very much.

"They are several points that bother me," she says. "But you already know them, don't you?"

Madam Kalista lightly laughs, right before taking yet another sip of ''poisoned'' tea.

"Would you care to remind me? I don't really like to deal over speculations."

She puts down her teacup. "I'm sure you understand, don't you?"

The stranger's eyes linger on the teacup. I follow her gaze, and soon understand why she struggles to hide a frown. The surface of the liquid hasn't lowered. There's as much tea as before.

Madam Kalista can't refrain a smug smile.

"... But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You didn't intended the conversation to go this far, did you? All the council wants, in the end, is to ''kill me''. Am I right, Lady Piots?"

The face of the stranger is now frankly disfigured with hate. In a quick movement, she pulls a stylets out of her braided hair and launches herself across the table to stab my mistress.

Time seem to slow as I suddenly realize that my mistress ''is going to die''.

My stomach knots, a rush of adrenalin fills my brain, and I rush forward to protect my mistress with my body. I see the steel stylet shining right before my eyes...

... and a split second later, the stranger is thrown against the side wall, repeatedly hit by two ork guards wielding wooden tonfas.

It takes me a second to realize what happened. Apparently, the guards where listening at the door, and flew open the door as soon as the assaillant made her move.

Through the door frame, I see an old ork looking at us with a complicit smile. The owner, I guess? He and my mistress planned it all?

I turn to my mistress for confirmation, but she is looking at me with two wide eyes.

"My bunny, what did you just try to do?" she asks with a trembling voice that is well out-of-character.

I fidget. "It's just... I really didn't want you to get hurt..."

Her surprised face fades and is replaced by a loving smile. "Little bunny... You don't have to. It's not your job to take care of me, it is ''I'' who must take care of you!"

I try to rotest. "But..."

She softly takes my shoulders between her big hands. "I need you in one piece, little bunny. I need you unharmed to assist me. I need you unscathed for the day I get wounded and need to be tended to."

Her words make me smile.

"Promise me to never do this again, please."

I nod. "Yes, madam. I promise you."

"Good girl," she whispers. Then, she take me into her arms.

Her embrace is soft. It's something I didn't know I missed before I came into her service. Hugs.

I don't really know why, but I begin to cry.

"Are you alright, little bunny?"

I nod against her breast. I shift in place, and my hand flush against her dick. Without much thoughts, I start stroking it.

"Bunny? What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment. "May I?"

She frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

I lower my eyes. "I... This made me realize that I love you, madam. And I want to show it... I really do."

She releases her embrace a bit. "Alright, then."

I resume my stroking and begin to kiss her tits.

"You know..." she begins to say.

I don't wait for the end of the sentence and begin to nimble her nipples. She rattles, and I feel her dick grow thicker between my fingers. She finally begins to relaxes, spraying her thighs apart and arching a bit to present me her breasts.

My fondling grows harder, and my stroking faster. My mistress moans louder and small drops of precum drip from her thick rod.

"Are you serious? Are you doing that ''right now''?"

My mistress and I both ignore the ranting of the captive Lady in the corner.

I slip down, kissing her chubby belly, caressing her inner thigh. I feel the muscle tense in pleasure against my finger. I kiss her pubis, the base of her cock, and right when I align the dick my my mouth, almost touching it with my tongue, she grabs my chin between two fingers. I look into her eyes, and with her steel blue gaze, she finally finishes her sentence:

"... I love you too, bunny."

Then I sleeve her cock with my mouth.

A loud sigh relieve her with all the stress of the meeting and the failed assassination attempt. Large slaty beads of precum erupts from her cock at regular intervals, in rhythm with the throbs of her dick and her loud moans.

Her cock is huge, but I'm a professional and manage to suck the cockhead whole, all while fondling her balls with a hand.

"Please don't stop!" she almost begs while her whole body shifts under the pressure of her pleasure.

With my free hand, I grab hers and make it slip up to the back of my head. She takes the cue and nest my skull with her huge hands to guide the blowjob.

At first, she forces my head gently, but the pleasure and the rising orgasm takes over and she start pounding my throat deeper than I could have ever achieved alone. I feel the warm precum delivered directly into my stomach, and the only moments I can breath happen every few second when she pulls my head off for a split second.

With my second hand now free I slip a finger between her buttcheeks and stroke her anus. That's when I feel it twitch under my caresses than I feel a warm liquid drip in abundance between my own thighs.

Despite the crown in the small room, the only sounds echoing right now are the gargles of myself being face-fucked and the moans of pleasure of my mistress that are turning every seconds into low rattles.

My mistress' anus feels now a bit lubricated, so I insert my middle finger up to its base and begin to massage her prostate.

"Oh fuck, bunny! You're right there! Don't stop!"

She skullfucks me even harder, and so fast than I can't breath anymore. My mind goes a bit vaporous from oxygen deprivation, but not so much as I'm unable to press harder on her prostate.

"Right on, slut! Take it all!"

In one huge thrust into my throat, she cums directly into my stomach. Her anus is so strongly pressing on my finger that I can't remove it at all. I feel her thick cum flooding my insides, then overflowing off my mouth around her dick still buried deep inside me.

My vision goes dark due to air deprivation, but she unsheath her girl-sword just in time for me to take a big bowl of air, right after I let the sperm filling my tracts on the ground.

Well, mostly on the ground. The rest stains my shirt and my skirt. But I really don't care.

"That was amazing!" I throw at her with my most sincere smile.

She doesn't look at me. She is arched back on the couch, 1breathing heavily, with an arm across her eyes.

"Oh my fucking GODS, bunny. You are a piece of ''something''!"

I chuckle and brag, "I didn't usurp my rep."

She gently stroke my hair, still trying to sort her mind.

"Are you even human?" A voice —coming from behind me— almost makes me jump.

I turn around and realize that I forgot that we had an audience. The two guard try to stay professional but their body language is betraying them. The stranger lady —the one who spoke— is opening her eyes wide in pure stupefaction.

At that, my mistress drags herself back up and says with a firm voice, "Please lead her away."

The guards obey —they have to bring her to justice anyway— and my mistress finally looks at me.

"My my, you made quite a mess, little bunny. I'm not complaining, but I doubt this will be practical for what we have to do next..."

I smile at her. "Don't worry, I got a change!" and proudly brandish the package I got earlier.

I proceed to undress and the owner —who also saw the scene— brings me a silky towel.

Then, with an undisguised excitement, I put on my magnificent hand-made ankle-long gilded emerald-green dress. I'm so ''gorgeous'' in it!

I present my distinguished self to my naked mistress, with a note of pride I must say.

She is in awe. "Look at you, bunny! You certainly are a pretty sight in a slutty attire, but I never could have imagined you could drape yourself with such class!"

The fancy words of my usually laid-back mistress make me blush.

The owner approaches us to interrupt or little ballet.

"If I may, dearest Kalista, you must be tired from all of dis, and I was wondering if you would have a drink wid dis old ork?"

His words are honeyed but lack any form of sarcasm or condescension. He speaks with a foreign accent which seem to match the strange embodied robe he is draped in.

My mistress' mouth is bended with remorse.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have the time. But I appreciate the offer though. Maybe another day?"

The old ork allows himself to take one of my mistress' hands into his. For someone of his rank, this should be a scandalous gesture, but Madam seems untroubled. Are they close?

"Dear Lady of de people," the owner continues, "dere is much I wish to hear from you. It has been some time since I last sat wid you, and little bees buzzed at my ears dat you will be quite busy very soon..."

There are clearly some subtext to all he said, and his word stroke true. My mistress takes a sorry face, then gives him a melancholic smile, and nods.

"You are right, old friend. I have been a shadow for too long. Let's drink together."
----"So, what nectar will stench your parchedness, today?" the owner asks my mistress while putting a kettle on the fire.

We are seated in a cozy little backroom with purple satin couches and dozens of shelves of teas and other beverages. Probably a stockroom that sometime serve as a parlor.

"No tea for me!" answer Madam Kalista. "After that wench and her poisoned shit, I need to crack a cold one!"

The owner laughs behind one of his long sleeves. "I do not hold ale in dis house. My customers like to claim deir refined palate deserves de best, so brews are not to be sold. But I have a fine whisky from my land, and I'm quite sure it will roll very well on your tongue."

My mistress cheer while raising her hand. "Whisky it is, then!"

Then, the owner turns to me. "And what will be your liquor, elegant bondwoman?"

I'm taken short by the question, as I was not expecting to take part in their toast.

"No alcool for her, master Sujung," intervenes my mistress. "I need her mind and body clear for later."

The owner approaches Madam Kalista with a mischievous frown. "Kalista, if I must not call a Lady her title, den you will refrain to call an old ork a master."

My mistress sighs exageratly. "Fiiiine."

Then, Sujung turns to me. "Will tea meet your desire? I have a wonderful smoked black tea with notes of walnut and violet. Strong in mouth but with a long and mellow aftertaste."

I nod, and shortly the kettle whistles that tea time is nigh.

Once everyone has a glass of cup in hand, Sujung seats himself opposite to us and starts the conversation.

"So, dear Kalista. What news of green pulse you carry in your winds?"

Huh? What's he talking about?

"Well, it's been hard, lately" my mistress answers. "They often seem worried, and when I ask, they dismisses me. You know Ashby, always to himself. But all in all, he is in good health."

Oh, I see. Green pulse... Big bean... They definitely know each other too well.

Sujung sips his hot tea. "I see. Dey indeed haven't changed much on dat terrain since deir teens, am I wrong? Do you hold any clue on what is responsible for such worryness?"

My mistress takes a long sip of whisky, then looks inside her glass, making the ice cube inside move with a circling motion.

"I think I do, and it's what you think of. But first, let me ask you this: why involve Nasué in this?"

Sujung sits deeper in the couch. "What makes you believe dat's my intention?"

Madam Kalista scoffs softly. "Because you offer her some tea to make sure she stayed with us. Also, you were quite eager to make us stay. I know you're often craving news about the big bean, but it's the first time you insisted when I declined."

The old ork take his time to finish his cup, then put it on the coffee table. Instead of answering my mistress, he adresses me.

"I didn't know your name nor your face until today. But numerous birds chirped of your hair and your skills at my tables. You are Lady Morr's famed former jewel chattel, are you not? You deserve to fill your ears wid de facticity of de past mischiefs and trials."

I bat my lashes as I don't understand a word he says.

"Above a slave, your are a human," he continues. "Above a human you are a person. A few figures of dis city plan high endeavors related to dis past events, and deir plans involves de slave, de human, and de person you are."

He then turns a stern face back to Madam Kalista, who walled herself in silence during his pompous monologue.

"Kalista. You friendship is most precious to me. Not only because you took Ashby under your wings when dey were a mere sprout, nor because of de continuous efforts you make to keep me up-to-date on deir wellness and blessedness, but above all because of your righteousness. You have always been a woman upstanding for her values and for de oppressed, notwidstanding her blue blood."

He stands up and goes fetch the kettle.

"Please, be right to her and tell her about you and your family. In de meantime, I'll make more tea."

What? Her family? What's it have to do with Ashby? With ''me''?

My mistress seems... Anxious? She avoids my gaze?

After a few instants fidgeting with her fingers, she sighs, look at me in they eyes, and finally talks.

"Nasué... First of all, I apologize to you. Even if I straight-up told you so, it's still wrong. I claimed you to serve my own scheme, and I feel bad about it every day."

She takes a breather, and I take the opportunity to dismiss her worries.

"Madam, I'm very happy with you. It's strange, but you're very nice with me."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. I'm apologizing for ''involving'' you in my schemes. And other's. I can't quite tell you now, because it's not the subject and it'll take too much time to tell everything, but I'm responsible for what will happen next... And I doubt you'll like it."

I begin to worry. "What do you mean?"

She puts a soft huge hand on my knee.

"Let me start at the beginning, alright? There is a lot of information for you to digest. We'll begin now, and finish later, okay?"

I silently nod, still worried but eager to hear it all.

She takes a deep breath, and reveals that...

"Ashby is Morr's child."

This hits me like a fireball in the face. Lady Morr has a ''child''?

"Wait," I realize. "They are half-ork. That means that..."

My mistress nods. "Their father was a slave."

"Was?"

"Yes. Of course. Breeding with a ork is death sentence for any non-ork. Along with any illegitimate children then may have had."

Overwhelmed by the emotions and zillions of questions, I take a look at Sujung. He stands still in front of the heating up kettle, not moving.

"But," I protest, "why didn't Ashby got executed with their father?"

"Because we protected them. Well, ''I'' protected them. I took them under my protection."

Suddenly, Sujung turn around. His eyes were misty. "Kalista! Do not lie!"

She sighed. I expected an answer from her, but it took a few seconds to come.

"The truth is... complex. At that time, Morr and I were living together. Morr wanted to hide the child, I wanted to fight for them to have the right to live. My approach was more risky, as much for me as for them, but I didn't want them to hide in shame, to lurk in the shadow of others all of their life."

She let her face fall into her hands.

"In the end, I ended up hiding them myself. I didn't have the guts, the power to fight for their rights. I spited Morr for wanting to hide them, but since I was weak, I did it in her stead. What a joke..."

I put my tiny head on my dear mistress' knee. "But you care for him, don't you? You protect him, and that's what counts."

She gently puts her gigantic hand on top of mine, casting me a sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I tell myself to cope. But I feel their sadness, their self-pity. Their self-hatred even. Unlike you, they aren't cut to be a slave."

Cut to be a slave? Yes, I am. I am happy being a slave harlot. But I can't fathom the sadness Ashby must feel.

"Do they know about their parents?"

My mistress slowly nods. "Of course. I had to tell them. They had the right to know everything."

"I see... I feel so bad for them..."

I focus my eyes on my cup of tea. This is a lot of information, but it settles in.

Sujung pours another serving of tea, and while finally settling down again, whispers to his friend.

"Kalista. There is something you omitted. She, also, has the right to know ''everythin''g."

My mistress stands up and pours herself a full glass of whisky.

"Earlier, I implied that Ashby's father was sentenced to death. While capital punishment applies in this case, that's not what killed him."

I frown. "Then, what did?"

She drank her whole glass in one go, then said: "It was Morr."
----"Fuck. I didn't need this shit right now. Should I postpone? No can do, it needs to be done today."

It's my mistress mumbling that bring me back to reality. My mind went is kind of blank. I know where I am —walking down a street of the middle-class neighborhood— but I have no memory of how I left the Sour Almond.

I repeat the word Madam Kalista said to me. ''She had to. It was the only way to save Ashby's life and her own reputation. By killing their father, she prevented any investigation toward their rumored relation. And no one could believe any child could have survived her wrath.''

I knew my former Mistress had dirt on her hands. That was Salista's job: intimidation, severed fingers with each late payment. But I didn't know she was a murderer.

Well, not by law. After all, any master has the right of life and death over their slaves. But it doesn't happen that often. A slave is more useful alive than dead. But still... I can't even imagine how Ashby feels.

"I'm sorry," I says to no one.

"Me too," my mistress answers.

She then stops in her tracks. "Listen, Nasué. I have something really important to ask of you. But it'll be a hard task. A ''very hard'' one after all that've been said today. I need you to stay strong, okay?"

I look at her with a dumb face. I don't know what she's talking about at all, but I trust her. I nod.

"I'd like to tell you that you could stop and bail at any time, but this is really important. Remember when I told you I involved you in my schemes? This is the first step. And not even the hardest."

I'm quite worried. "What do you need me to do?"

She doesn't answer. We walk in silence until we reach a crowded place. We are not in the middle-class neighborhood anymore, we reach the swanky side of town. A kind of large market with a lot of fancy shops, tended by lower-class ork with nobles as patrons.

This end of the day is near. There are still a lot of people out there, and quite a lot of them are fully-naked.

We pace to the center of the place, where Ashby seems to be waiting for us. They have bags under their eyes, but their face lighten a bit at our sight. Their mere sight twist my guts.

Our mistress stops between us and take a moment to breath. Then she steps aside and drop a bomb on us.

"Nasué, Ashby, I'm truly sorry to ask this out of you, but I need you to fuck, right here, right now."

We both look at her, incredulous.

"What?" we both exclaim.

Our mistress adverts her gaze. "I'm sure both of you can imagine why I ask this of you. Stirring the embers and all. Please?"

We both stand dumbfounded, unable to commit nor withdraw.

Our mistress turn to Ashby. "Big bean. You know I love you like a son, and in a way, I ''am'' our mother. I'm trying to give you the life you deserve while protecting you, which is a dangerous balance to maintain. You ''know'' our objectives and where this is leading us. If you believe in our project, please find the strength to go all the way in."

Ashby lower their eyes, but then nods, a half-smile on their face. They really trust Madam Kalista, don't they? And she said '''their'' project`. Not hers, ''theirs''.

She comes to me and squeeze my shoulders lightly.

"Little bunny. You know everything about Ashby now. But don't be sorry for them. They are strong. They survived this far and will live to see their freedom. I know them well enough to tell you they don't want to be pitied. They want to be supported. Please support us in this project."

I look into Ashby's sad eyes, and manage to see a sparkle of light beyond their gaze. They are tired, but filled with determination.

"Alright then," I say while stretching my arms. "Ready when you are!"

This feels strange. On so many levels. When Ashby, tall and still wrapped in a black toga gently pulls me closer to kiss me, I try —as usual— to get my marks. You know, to position myself and to think about what my role is in the sex dance. But this doesn't work. At least, not as usual. This soft, round face with teeny-tiny tusks is not one of a dominant person. It's a fellow slave. And we are not to fuck for the eyes, cunts and cocks of some nobility, but for... what? A scheme? I don't know, I feel lost.

Their toga falls on the ground, and their musk fills my nostrils. Something soft, yet familiar. I lean against their hairy torso, stroke their hard pectorals. My hand slips down their elegant back, their hard butt, their soft thigh, their damp cunt.

"Can you keep your dress? You're quite charming in it."

While saying these words they explore the curve of my corset, circling under my boobs and falling on my hips. My insides begin to burn. I love this dress very much. I don't know Ashby very well, but they always gave me a good feeling. I would very much enjoy making love to them while wearing it.

"How do you wanna do this?" I ask, genuinely wondering how to proceed. Which is dumb. I always know how to fuck. Why is this different? Ashby is not ''that'' special to me —at least not as much as our mistress is— and it's not the first time I fuck a slave. So why?

"Let us feel the fabric on your skin."

They pace around me and embrace me from behind. While they begin to caress every inch of my body with one hand, with the other they guide mine onto their cunt.

"Let's take it slow? I think we are supposed to put up a show."

Their warm voice is comforting. Without really thinking about it, I slowly begin to circle their clit. They do not moan, but I feel their breath shortening and becoming stronger every moment passing. On their side, they fondle my upper body, exploring every curve and every inch square of the high-quality fabric. The feeling is exquisite. Their hands are warm, and the silk is smooth on my skin.

I finally notice the reactions of the crowd around us. Nobles and wannabe nobles look at us, feign to be disgusted, then look back when they are away. Gasps and scoffs become louder and louder. Our mistress is not far, but still not too close as to be noticed. Whispers begin to emerge, in which I'm certain the name 'Morr' is uttered several times.

I suddenly gasp when Ashby inadvertently pinch my nipple.

"Do you like it?" He asks.

As sole answer, I grab their wrist with my free hand to force it on my breast. They grabs both of my boob with their two hand, and begins to fondle, squeeze, play with them to discover how to make me moan.

Soon, it feels like my whole body becomes electric. As if every nerve ends across my skin suddenly wake up and get stimulated my the contact of the fabric. I can feel every strand of silk brushing against me, sending little jolts of pleasure. Like I was fondled by thousands of tiny hands.

...

"Is it over?" I ask, without really knowing what just happened.

"Do you want it to be over?" they ask back.

I just came. I realize that I just came from the sole contact of another person. Through my clothes.

"No, I don't. I... I want more. Please?"

Because why not?

Why stop at the first orgasm, after all? Why don't we both make each other cum until we both fall unconscious?

...

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/La Féodalité à Rosarya

2026-04-21T09:20:07Z

Senua :

== Avant-propos ==
Sur Rosarya, la noblesse est ecclésiastique et la religion est incarnée par la noblesse.

Quand on parle de féodalité, on parle donc de hiérarchie religieuse, mais aussi de tout ce qui incombe à la féodalité, c'est à dire la vassalité et la possession et la transmission de terres.

Les titres de noblesses sont héréditaires. La transmission peut-être répudiée à loisir par le·a prince·sse reignant·e, et transmise à qui iel le souhaite. Tout titre peut être abdiqué de son vivant et offert à qui on le souhaite.

Dans tous les cas, épouser une personne noble accorde tous ses titres à son époux·se.

Il n'y a pas de notion de royaume ou d'empire dans Rosarya. Les terres des huit traditions sont des ''nations'' (à ne pas confondre avec le terme ''pays'', qui sert à désigner des territoires géographique, ou parfois qui désigne grossièrement les terres d'un prince ou d'une princesse).

== La hiérarchie des traditions ==
Il y a une hiérarchie stricte des traditions à Rosarya. Cette hiérarchie n'incombe qu'à l'ordre religieux, mais il est proche de la hiérarchie féodale.

Les traditions sont découpées en trois catégories :

* Les traditions majeures sont les neuf traditions fondatrices, soit le Druidisme, la Foi, le Shamanisme, le Perfectionnisme, la Linguistique, l'Expressionnisme, l'Alchimie et l'Arcanisme et l'Égérie. Elle ont été fondées par les Psychopompe (exceptée l'Égérie) et ceux-ci jouent le rôle de guise spirituel. Les dirigeants des traditions majeures sont les archiducs.
* Les traditions mineures sont des branches secondaires des traditions majeures, dont la fondation dépend de l'accord du Psychopompe associé. Elles sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodée à leur tradition majeure. Leurs dirigeants sont les ducs.
* Les traditions tribues sont des branches tertiaires de leur tradition majeure. Leur fondation ne dépend que de l'accord de la tradition majeure et sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodées à leur tradition mineure respective. Leurs dirigeants sont les comtes.

== Titres de noblesse ==

=== Princes et princesses, seigneur et seigneure ===
Tout noble possédant des terre est considéré ''prince'' ou ''princesse''. C'est également le cas de l'héritier d'un titre, qui est alors accompagné du terme ''dauphin'' ou ''dauphine''.

Ce titre est souvent employé pour un héritier n'ayant pas encore de titre propre, comme par exemple "Untel est le prince dauphin de la duchesse Unetelle" ou encore quand on veut mentionner le titre d'un noble possédant déjà un plus haute titre ou pour éviter une répétition, comme par exemple "C'est le duc Untel qui est prince du comté de Ci".

Les termes ''seigneur'' et ''seigneure'' s'emploient comme les titres de prince et de princesse, hormis pour les dauphins.

=== Régnants, régnantes et consorts ===
On considère un prince comme ''reignant'' et une princesse comme ''reignante'' quand iels ont acquis leur titre de manière conforme (par hérédité ou abdication).

On considère un prince ou une princesse comme ''consort'' quand iel a acquis sont titre par mariage.

=== Archiducs et archiduchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition majeure a le titre de ''archiduc'' ou ''archiduchesse''. Ce titre n'est pas différent de "duc·hesse", si ce n'est que les seconds doivent rendre hommage aux premiers, d'un point de vue féodal. Ils ont tous deux des territoires indépendants, il n'y a pas de vassalité entre les deux.

D'un point de vue religieux cependant, les archiducs sont considérés directement au-dessus des ducs. Ces derniers doivent faire valider toute décision religieuse à leur archiduc·hesse, sauf si cette décision en revient directement au psychopompe.

Les archiducs sont, d'un point de vue religieux toujours, les seuls serviteurs directs de leurs psychopompes respectifs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e archiduc·hesse, l'''archiduché''.

=== Ducs et duchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition mineure est appelée ''duc'' ou ''duchesse''.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e duc·hesse le ''duché''.

=== Comtes et comtesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition tribue est appelée ''comte'' ou ''comtesse''.

Les comtes sont directement vassaux des (archi)ducs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e comte·sse le ''comté''.

=== Marquis et marquises ===
La personne noble dirigeant une terre qui n'est pas sa propre tradition, est appelée ''marquis'' ou ''marquise''.

Les marquis sont directement vassaux des comtes.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e marquis·e le ''marquisat''.

=== Barons et baronnes ===
Il arrive parfois que, par nécessité, on accorde la gestion d'une petite terre à un bourgeois ou à un roturier, qui se retrouve ainsi anobli par nécessité. On accorde à ces personne le titre de ''baron'' ou ''baronne''.

Ils sont toujours des vassaux d'un comté ou d'un marquisat.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e baron·ne la ''baronnie''.

{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il y a des cas où la transmission d'un titre de comte·sse ou de marquis·e se fait à une personne non-noble, faisant de celle-ci de facto un·e baron·ne. Quand cela arrive, il y a plusieurs cas de figure applicables:|Si c'est un marquisat qui devient un baronnie, alors il n'y a aucun problème, les terres étaient et restent sous la vassalité d'un·e comte·sse.|Dans le cas d'un·e comte·sse, il est possible alors de soit placer la baronnie directement sous la vassalité de l'(archi)duc·hesse, soit de faire exception et de titrer la nouvelle noble comme comte·sse et non baron·ne.|Enfin, dans le très très rare cas où cela peut se produire pour un (archi)duché, alors il n'y a pas d'issue: le·a baron·ne devient un·e (archi)duc·esse.}}{{JdR/Textbox|anecdote|Dans toute l'histoire de Rosarya, le cas de figure d'un duc qui abdique pour une personne non-noble n'est survenue qu'une seule fois, à la fin du Deuxième Âge au sein de la tradition Expressionniste.|Il s'agissait d'un coup d'état effectué par des rebelles, très largement soutenus par le peuple. Bien entendu, les autres duchés et a fortiori l'archiduchesse de cette époque ne voulaient pas reconnaître sa légitimité, mais le coup d'état a été validé par la Psychopompe, un peu à la surprise générale, ce qui a forcé toutes et tous à s'y plier.}}

=== Sire et dame ===
Quand un·e noble ne possède pas de terre (et donc n'est ni prince, ni princesse), iel est appelé·e ''sire'' ou ''dame.''
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il est largement toléré pour le peuple d'appeler les prince·sses ''monseigneur'', ''maseigneure'', ''sire'' ou ''dame'' malgré son titre réel.}}

=== Petite et haute noblesse ===
Il y a une distinction de classe entre les nobles, qui forment deux cliques : la petite et la haute noblesse.

La ''haute noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse terriennes de tradition, c'est à dire des (archi)ducs et des comtes.

La ''petite noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse de non-tradition, c'est à dire des marquis, des barons et des nobles sans terre.

=== Chevaliers et chevaleresses ===
On appelle ''chevalier'' ou ''chevaleresse'' une personne noble qui a fait un serment d'arme à son suzerain, c'est à dire qu'iel a solennellement promis à son suzerain de combattre pour iel.

Iel peut posséder des terres ou non, et ce titre vient s'ajouter aux autre qu'iel possède.

Par exemple, il arrive régulièrement que pour montrer son amitié et rendre hommage à l'archiduché, un membre d'une famille ducale fasse le serment de chevalerie à son archiduc·hesse, ce qui s'accompagne souvent d'un poste à responsabilité à sa cour (comme par exemple, devenir sénéchal du palais de l'archiduc·hesse ou encore général d'une armée).

=== Tableau récapitulatif ===
{| class="wikitable"
|+
!Tradition (type)
!Titre
!Vassaux
!Suzerain
!Territoire
!Noblesse (type)
|-
|Majeure
|Archiduchesse Archiduc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Archiduché
|Haute
|-
|Mineure
|Duchesse Duc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Duché
|Haute
|-
|Tribue
|Comtessse Comtes
|Marquis Barons
|Duc ou Archiduc
|Comté
|Haute
|-
|''aucune''
|Marquise Marquis
|Barons
|Comte
|Marquisat
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Baronne Baron
|''aucun''
|Comte ou Marquis
|Baronnie
|Petite
|}

== Appellations locales des titres de noblesse ==
Chaque tradition majeure a une hiérarchie propre à son fonctionnement interne, qui vient s'ajouter aux hiérarchies féodale et religieuse. Il existe souvent des corrélations entre les titres de cette hiérarchie interne et les titre féodaux génériques, qui sont compilées dans cette section.

Quand ce n'est pas précisé, les appellations générique existent et sont employées comme telles.

=== Druidisme ===

* Le titre de ''haut·e druide·sse'' est équivalent à ''archiduc'' et à ''duc''.
* Les ''comtes'', ''marquis'' et ''barons'' sont des ''sédants''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' son des ''dolms'', ou, en fonction du contexte, des ''lahgs''.

Les titres propres aux druides sont toujours préférés, il y a donc peu de distinction entre les comtes, les marquis et les barons au sein de cette tradition.

=== Foi ===
Les appellations de la Foi dépendent d'un rang relatif, donc les indications données ici peuvent ne pas être représentatives de certaines communautés.

* Le titre de ''Prima Okfant Tradiven'' correspond à celui d'''archiduc·hesse''
* Le titre de ''Mélia Okfant Tradiven'' est celui d'un ''duc''. Parfois le signet ''Sepfant'' est utilisé, notamment pour les régents.
* Le titre de ''Téria Kvinfant Tradiven'' est équivalent à ''comte'', mais on trouve aussi des comtes qui ont le signet de ''Sesfant'' ou de ''Kvarfant''.
* Les titres de ''Tul Kvarfant'' est souvent celui des ''marquis'', avec un labret qui correspond à l'attribution de leur communauté.
* Les ''barons'' sont similaires, mais plus souvent avec le signet de ''Trifant''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' on des signets variables, en fonction de leur importance. Les magistrat et les hauts fonctionnaires auront un signet plus élevé, mais les nobles de bas rang seront la plupart du temps ''Unufant'', ''Dufant'' ou ''Trifant''.
Comme les appellations clergesses sont austères, et parfois ambigües, on utilise de préférence le signet en interne de la tradition, là où la hiérarchie féodale importe moins que la hiérarchie propre à la Foi. À l'extérieur du territoire, notamment dans les cours étrangères, les titres féodaux usuels sont préférés car ils renvoient au status terrien et de tradition de chaque noble.

=== Shamanisme ===
Les shamans, de par leur individualisme inter-communautés, font peu de distinctions entre les rangs des dirigeants.

Ainsi, le titre de ''doyen'' est partagé par les archiducs, les ducs, les comtes, les marquis et les barons. La distinction se fait principalement par l'appellation territoriale (par exemple, on dit ''le doyen de l'archiduché'' plutôt que ''l'archiduc'').

Le suffixe ''versé'' convient à tous les autres nobles.

Les titres de ''prince'' et ''princesse'' sont cependant très usités quand on parle de membres de la famille d'un doyen.

À l'extérieur de la tradition shamanique, les appellations féodales sont tolérées, mais les seigneur·es shamans préfèrent largement l'appellation de ''doyen''.

=== Perfectionnisme ===
Pour obtenir le titre de prince, les moines et les moniales doivent d'abord obtenir le titre de ''lama'', c'est à dire de terminer leurs enseignements. On ne peut pas prétendre à un trône quel qu'il soit si on n'est que ''drapa'' ou ''bagwa''.

Ainsi, les appellations noble des perfectionnistes sont ainsi:

* Les ''archiduc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama ipsoprima''.
* Les ''duc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama prima''.
* Les ''comte·sses'' sont appelés ''lama seca''.
* Les ''marquis·es'' sont appelés ''lama tertia''.
* Les ''baron·nes'' sont appelés ''lama ulta''.
* Les ''sires'' et ''dames'' sont simplement nommé·e selon leur rang monacal, c'est à dire ''bagwa, drapa'' ou ''lama.''

=== Linguistique ===
La Linguistique utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

Cependant, il existe des termes alternatifs, étymologiquement proches qui sont préférés par les roturiers et la plupart des bourgeois.

*''Trèducal·e'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Ducal·e'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Comme·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Arqu''e pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Ron·ne'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Expressionnisme ===
L'Expressionnisme utilise des termes qui sont des stricts synonyme de titres usuels :

* ''Archimaestre·sse'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Grand·e maestre·sse'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Maestre·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Lustrie·sse'' pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Réputé·e'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Alchimie ===
L'Alchimie utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

=== Arcanisme ===
L'Arcanisme utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

== L'héritage des titres de noblesse ==
L'héritier est celui ou celle qui acquiert le titre d'un noble à sa mort ou son abdication. Il n'y a pas de règle standard dans la féodalité de Rosarya, mais l'usage fait qu'il s'agit le plu souvent de l'enfant aîné qui est le premier héritier (c'est généralement celui qui est éduqué pour ça), et ce sans distinction de s'il s'agit d'un enfant biologique ou adopté.

Il est cependant possible de nommer n'importe qui comme héritier. Cela se fait en particulier quand un·e prince·sse est souffrant·e ou sur le point de partir au combat et qu'aucun descendant direct n'est présent. On désigne souvent un parent proche comme héritier.
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Dans le rarissime cas où un noble de sang nomme un non-noble comme héritier, celui-ci prend automatiquement le titre de baron, peut importe le titre de celui ou celle dont il hérite.|Si c'est un héritage avec terre, on ajoute 'baron-' en tant que préfixe au titre. Par exemple : Baron-comte. Il est cependant à noter que ce cas spécifique n'est apparu qu'extrêmement rarement dans l'histoire de Rosarya.}}
Quand aucun héritier n'est désigné (cas relativement courant : quand le suzerain et son héritier décède lors d'un même incident), alors l'usage veut que l'héritier soit choisit selon la priorité suivante :

* L'époux ou l'épouse.
* Un parent proche qui a déjà eu le trône (exemple : la mère ou le père qui aurait abdiqué ou aurait été consort)
* Un parent proche n'ayant pas gouverné sous ce titre (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie), ou sinon le père ou la mère.
* Un de enfants (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre de plus haut rang (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre quelconque (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque sans titre.
* Le plus haut ministre du gouvernement.

Cela peut faire changer la maison gouvernante.

Il n'y a pas de notion de "deuxième enfant" ou de troisième enfant", etc. Soit on est dauphin, soit on ne l'est pas.

Dans la société Rosaryenne, il est très mal vu de déshériter à l'improviste. Il est cependant possible de donner le titre de dauphin avec conditions (par exemple : tu sera mon héritier jusqu'à la naissance de mon premier enfant).

Il n'est cependant pas infamant de déshériter une personne qui s'est elle-même portée en infamie.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/La Féodalité à Rosarya

2026-04-21T09:18:24Z

Senua :

== Avant-propos ==
Sur Rosarya, la noblesse est ecclésiastique et la religion est incarnée par la noblesse.

Quand on parle de féodalité, on parle donc de hiérarchie religieuse, mais aussi de tout ce qui incombe à la féodalité, c'est à dire la vassalité et la possession et la transmission de terres.

Les titres de noblesses sont héréditaires. La transmission peut-être répudiée à loisir par le·a prince·sse reignant·e, et transmise à qui iel le souhaite. Tout titre peut être abdiqué de son vivant et offert à qui on le souhaite.

Dans tous les cas, épouser une personne noble accorde tous ses titres à son époux·se.

Il n'y a pas de notion de royaume ou d'empire dans Rosarya. Les terres des huit traditions sont des ''nations'' (à ne pas confondre avec le terme ''pays'', qui sert à désigner des territoires géographique, ou parfois qui désigne grossièrement les terres d'un prince ou d'une princesse).

== La hiérarchie des traditions ==
Il y a une hiérarchie stricte des traditions à Rosarya. Cette hiérarchie n'incombe qu'à l'ordre religieux, mais il est proche de la hiérarchie féodale.

Les traditions sont découpées en trois catégories :

* Les traditions majeures sont les neuf traditions fondatrices, soit le Druidisme, la Foi, le Shamanisme, le Perfectionnisme, la Linguistique, l'Expressionnisme, l'Alchimie et l'Arcanisme et l'Égérie. Elle ont été fondées par les Psychopompe (exceptée l'Égérie) et ceux-ci jouent le rôle de guise spirituel. Les dirigeants des traditions majeures sont les archiducs.
* Les traditions mineures sont des branches secondaires des traditions majeures, dont la fondation dépend de l'accord du Psychopompe associé. Elles sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodée à leur tradition majeure. Leurs dirigeants sont les ducs.
* Les traditions tribues sont des branches tertiaires de leur tradition majeure. Leur fondation ne dépend que de l'accord de la tradition majeure et sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodées à leur tradition mineure respective. Leurs dirigeants sont les comtes.

== Titres de noblesse ==

=== Princes et princesses, seigneur et seigneure ===
Tout noble possédant des terre est considéré ''prince'' ou ''princesse''. C'est également le cas de l'héritier d'un titre, qui est alors accompagné du terme ''dauphin'' ou ''dauphine''.

Ce titre est souvent employé pour un héritier n'ayant pas encore de titre propre, comme par exemple "Untel est le prince dauphin de la duchesse Unetelle" ou encore quand on veut mentionner le titre d'un noble possédant déjà un plus haute titre ou pour éviter une répétition, comme par exemple "C'est le duc Untel qui est prince du comté de Ci".

Les termes ''seigneur'' et ''seigneure'' s'emploient comme les titres de prince et de princesse, hormis pour les dauphins.

=== Régnants, régnantes et consorts ===
On considère un prince comme ''reignant'' et une princesse comme ''reignante'' quand iels ont acquis leur titre de manière conforme (par hérédité ou abdication).

On considère un prince ou une princesse comme ''consort'' quand iel a acquis sont titre par mariage.

=== Archiducs et archiduchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition majeure a le titre de ''archiduc'' ou ''archiduchesse''. Ce titre n'est pas différent de "duc·hesse", si ce n'est que les seconds doivent rendre hommage aux premiers, d'un point de vue féodal. Ils ont tous deux des territoires indépendants, il n'y a pas de vassalité entre les deux.

D'un point de vue religieux cependant, les archiducs sont considérés directement au-dessus des ducs. Ces derniers doivent faire valider toute décision religieuse à leur archiduc·hesse, sauf si cette décision en revient directement au psychopompe.

Les archiducs sont, d'un point de vue religieux toujours, les seuls serviteurs directs de leurs psychopompes respectifs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e archiduc·hesse, l'''archiduché''.

=== Ducs et duchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition mineure est appelée ''duc'' ou ''duchesse''.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e duc·hesse le ''duché''.

=== Comtes et comtesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition tribue est appelée ''comte'' ou ''comtesse''.

Les comtes sont directement vassaux des (archi)ducs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e comte·sse le ''comté''.

=== Marquis et marquises ===
La personne noble dirigeant une terre qui n'est pas sa propre tradition, est appelée ''marquis'' ou ''marquise''.

Les marquis sont directement vassaux des comtes.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e marquis·e le ''marquisat''.

=== Barons et baronnes ===
Il arrive parfois que, par nécessité, on accorde la gestion d'une petite terre à un bourgeois ou à un roturier, qui se retrouve ainsi anobli par nécessité. On accorde à ces personne le titre de ''baron'' ou ''baronne''.

Ils sont toujours des vassaux d'un comté ou d'un marquisat.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e baron·ne la ''baronnie''.

{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il y a des cas où la transmission d'un titre de comte·sse ou de marquis·e se fait à une personne non-noble, faisant de celle-ci de facto un·e baron·ne. Quand cela arrive, il y a plusieurs cas de figure applicables:|Si c'est un marquisat qui devient un baronnie, alors il n'y a aucun problème, les terres étaient et restent sous la vassalité d'un·e comte·sse.|Dans le cas d'un·e comte·sse, il est possible alors de soit placer la baronnie directement sous la vassalité de l'(archi)duc·hesse, soit de faire exception et de titrer la nouvelle noble comme comte·sse et non baron·ne.|Enfin, dans le très très rare cas où cela peut se produire pour un (archi)duché, alors il n'y a pas d'issue: le·a baron·ne devient un·e (archi)duc·esse.}}{{JdR/Textbox|anecdote|Dans toute l'histoire de Rosarya, le cas de figure d'un duc qui abdique pour une personne non-noble n'est survenue qu'une seule fois, à la fin du Deuxième Âge au sein de la tradition Expressionniste.|Il s'agissait d'un coup d'état effectué par des rebelles, très largement soutenus par le peuple. Bien entendu, les autres duchés et a fortiori l'archiduchesse de cette époque ne voulaient pas reconnaître sa légitimité, mais le coup d'état a été validé par la Psychopompe, un peu à la surprise générale, ce qui a forcé toutes et tous à s'y plier.}}

=== Sire et dame ===
Quand un·e noble ne possède pas de terre (et donc n'est ni prince, ni princesse), iel est appelé·e ''sire'' ou ''dame.''
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il est largement toléré pour le peuple d'appeler les prince·sses ''monseigneur'', ''maseigneure'', ''sire'' ou ''dame'' malgré son titre réel.}}

=== Petite et haute noblesse ===
Il y a une distinction de classe entre les nobles, qui forment deux cliques : la petite et la haute noblesse.

La ''haute noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse terriennes de tradition, c'est à dire des (archi)ducs et des comtes.

La ''petite noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse de non-tradition, c'est à dire des marquis, des barons et des nobles sans terre.

=== Chevaliers et chevaleresses ===
On appelle ''chevalier'' ou ''chevaleresse'' une personne noble qui a fait un serment d'arme à son suzerain, c'est à dire qu'iel a solennellement promis à son suzerain de combattre pour iel.

Iel peut posséder des terres ou non, et ce titre vient s'ajouter aux autre qu'iel possède.

Par exemple, il arrive régulièrement que pour montrer son amitié et rendre hommage à l'archiduché, un membre d'une famille ducale fasse le serment de chevalerie à son archiduc·hesse, ce qui s'accompagne souvent d'un poste à responsabilité à sa cour (comme par exemple, devenir sénéchal du palais de l'archiduc·hesse ou encore général d'une armée).

=== Tableau récapitulatif ===
{| class="wikitable"
|+
!Tradition (type)
!Titre
!Vassaux
!Suzerain
!Territoire
!Noblesse (type)
|-
|Majeure
|Archiduchesse Archiduc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Archiduché
|Haute
|-
|Mineure
|Duchesse Duc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Duché
|Haute
|-
|Tribue
|Comtessse Comtes
|Marquis Barons
|Duc ou Archiduc
|Comté
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Marquise Marquis
|Barons
|Comte
|Marquisat
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Baronne Baron
|''aucun''
|Comte ou Marquis
|Baronnie
|Petite
|}

== Appellations locales des titres de noblesse ==
Chaque tradition majeure a une hiérarchie propre à son fonctionnement interne, qui vient s'ajouter aux hiérarchies féodale et religieuse. Il existe souvent des corrélations entre les titres de cette hiérarchie interne et les titre féodaux génériques, qui sont compilées dans cette section.

Quand ce n'est pas précisé, les appellations générique existent et sont employées comme telles.

=== Druidisme ===

* Le titre de ''haut·e druide·sse'' est équivalent à ''archiduc'' et à ''duc''.
* Les ''comtes'', ''marquis'' et ''barons'' sont des ''sédants''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' son des ''dolms'', ou, en fonction du contexte, des ''lahgs''.

Les titres propres aux druides sont toujours préférés, il y a donc peu de distinction entre les comtes, les marquis et les barons au sein de cette tradition.

=== Foi ===
Les appellations de la Foi dépendent d'un rang relatif, donc les indications données ici peuvent ne pas être représentatives de certaines communautés.

* Le titre de ''Prima Okfant Tradiven'' correspond à celui d'''archiduc·hesse''
* Le titre de ''Mélia Okfant Tradiven'' est celui d'un ''duc''. Parfois le signet ''Sepfant'' est utilisé, notamment pour les régents.
* Le titre de ''Téria Kvinfant Tradiven'' est équivalent à ''comte'', mais on trouve aussi des comtes qui ont le signet de ''Sesfant'' ou de ''Kvarfant''.
* Les titres de ''Tul Kvarfant'' est souvent celui des ''marquis'', avec un labret qui correspond à l'attribution de leur communauté.
* Les ''barons'' sont similaires, mais plus souvent avec le signet de ''Trifant''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' on des signets variables, en fonction de leur importance. Les magistrat et les hauts fonctionnaires auront un signet plus élevé, mais les nobles de bas rang seront la plupart du temps ''Unufant'', ''Dufant'' ou ''Trifant''.
Comme les appellations clergesses sont austères, et parfois ambigües, on utilise de préférence le signet en interne de la tradition, là où la hiérarchie féodale importe moins que la hiérarchie propre à la Foi. À l'extérieur du territoire, notamment dans les cours étrangères, les titres féodaux usuels sont préférés car ils renvoient au status terrien et de tradition de chaque noble.

=== Shamanisme ===
Les shamans, de par leur individualisme inter-communautés, font peu de distinctions entre les rangs des dirigeants.

Ainsi, le titre de ''doyen'' est partagé par les archiducs, les ducs, les comtes, les marquis et les barons. La distinction se fait principalement par l'appellation territoriale (par exemple, on dit ''le doyen de l'archiduché'' plutôt que ''l'archiduc'').

Le suffixe ''versé'' convient à tous les autres nobles.

Les titres de ''prince'' et ''princesse'' sont cependant très usités quand on parle de membres de la famille d'un doyen.

À l'extérieur de la tradition shamanique, les appellations féodales sont tolérées, mais les seigneur·es shamans préfèrent largement l'appellation de ''doyen''.

=== Perfectionnisme ===
Pour obtenir le titre de prince, les moines et les moniales doivent d'abord obtenir le titre de ''lama'', c'est à dire de terminer leurs enseignements. On ne peut pas prétendre à un trône quel qu'il soit si on n'est que ''drapa'' ou ''bagwa''.

Ainsi, les appellations noble des perfectionnistes sont ainsi:

* Les ''archiduc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama ipsoprima''.
* Les ''duc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama prima''.
* Les ''comte·sses'' sont appelés ''lama seca''.
* Les ''marquis·es'' sont appelés ''lama tertia''.
* Les ''baron·nes'' sont appelés ''lama ulta''.
* Les ''sires'' et ''dames'' sont simplement nommé·e selon leur rang monacal, c'est à dire ''bagwa, drapa'' ou ''lama.''

=== Linguistique ===
La Linguistique utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

Cependant, il existe des termes alternatifs, étymologiquement proches qui sont préférés par les roturiers et la plupart des bourgeois.

*''Trèducal·e'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Ducal·e'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Comme·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Arqu''e pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Ron·ne'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Expressionnisme ===
L'Expressionnisme utilise des termes qui sont des stricts synonyme de titres usuels :

* ''Archimaestre·sse'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Grand·e maestre·sse'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Maestre·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Lustrie·sse'' pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Réputé·e'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Alchimie ===
L'Alchimie utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

=== Arcanisme ===
L'Arcanisme utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

== L'héritage des titres de noblesse ==
L'héritier est celui ou celle qui acquiert le titre d'un noble à sa mort ou son abdication. Il n'y a pas de règle standard dans la féodalité de Rosarya, mais l'usage fait qu'il s'agit le plu souvent de l'enfant aîné qui est le premier héritier (c'est généralement celui qui est éduqué pour ça), et ce sans distinction de s'il s'agit d'un enfant biologique ou adopté.

Il est cependant possible de nommer n'importe qui comme héritier. Cela se fait en particulier quand un·e prince·sse est souffrant·e ou sur le point de partir au combat et qu'aucun descendant direct n'est présent. On désigne souvent un parent proche comme héritier.
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Dans le rarissime cas où un noble de sang nomme un non-noble comme héritier, celui-ci prend automatiquement le titre de baron, peut importe le titre de celui ou celle dont il hérite.|Si c'est un héritage avec terre, on ajoute 'baron-' en tant que préfixe au titre. Par exemple : Baron-comte. Il est cependant à noter que ce cas spécifique n'est apparu qu'extrêmement rarement dans l'histoire de Rosarya.}}
Quand aucun héritier n'est désigné (cas relativement courant : quand le suzerain et son héritier décède lors d'un même incident), alors l'usage veut que l'héritier soit choisit selon la priorité suivante :

* L'époux ou l'épouse.
* Un parent proche qui a déjà eu le trône (exemple : la mère ou le père qui aurait abdiqué ou aurait été consort)
* Un parent proche n'ayant pas gouverné sous ce titre (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie), ou sinon le père ou la mère.
* Un de enfants (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre de plus haut rang (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre quelconque (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque sans titre.
* Le plus haut ministre du gouvernement.

Cela peut faire changer la maison gouvernante.

Il n'y a pas de notion de "deuxième enfant" ou de troisième enfant", etc. Soit on est dauphin, soit on ne l'est pas.

Dans la société Rosaryenne, il est très mal vu de déshériter à l'improviste. Il est cependant possible de donner le titre de dauphin avec conditions (par exemple : tu sera mon héritier jusqu'à la naissance de mon premier enfant).

Il n'est cependant pas infamant de déshériter une personne qui s'est elle-même portée en infamie.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/La Féodalité à Rosarya

2026-04-21T09:17:35Z

Senua :

== Avant-propos ==
Sur Rosarya, la noblesse est ecclésiastique et la religion est incarnée par la noblesse.

Quand on parle de féodalité, on parle donc de hiérarchie religieuse, mais aussi de tout ce qui incombe à la féodalité, c'est à dire la vassalité et la possession et la transmission de terres.

Les titres de noblesses sont héréditaires. La transmission peut-être répudiée à loisir par le·a prince·sse reignant·e, et transmise à qui iel le souhaite. Tout titre peut être abdiqué de son vivant et offert à qui on le souhaite.

Dans tous les cas, épouser une personne noble accorde tous ses titres à son époux·se.

Il n'y a pas de notion de royaume ou d'empire dans Rosarya. Les terres des huit traditions sont des ''nations'' (à ne pas confondre avec le terme ''pays'', qui sert à désigner des territoires géographique, ou parfois qui désigne grossièrement les terres d'un prince ou d'une princesse).

== La hiérarchie des traditions ==
Il y a une hiérarchie stricte des traditions à Rosarya. Cette hiérarchie n'incombe qu'à l'ordre religieux, mais il est proche de la hiérarchie féodale.

Les traditions sont découpées en trois catégories :

* Les traditions majeures sont les neuf traditions fondatrices, soit le Druidisme, la Foi, le Shamanisme, le Perfectionnisme, la Linguistique, l'Expressionnisme, l'Alchimie et l'Arcanisme et l'Égérie. Elle ont été fondées par les Psychopompe (exceptée l'Égérie) et ceux-ci jouent le rôle de guise spirituel. Les dirigeants des traditions majeures sont les archiducs.
* Les traditions mineures sont des branches secondaires des traditions majeures, dont la fondation dépend de l'accord du Psychopompe associé. Elles sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodée à leur tradition majeure. Leurs dirigeants sont les ducs.
* Les traditions tribues sont des branches tertiaires de leur tradition majeure. Leur fondation ne dépend que de l'accord de la tradition majeure et sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodées à leur tradition mineure respective. Leurs dirigeants sont les comtes.

== Titres de noblesse ==

=== Princes et princesses, seigneur et seigneure ===
Tout noble possédant des terre est considéré ''prince'' ou ''princesse''. C'est également le cas de l'héritier d'un titre, qui est alors accompagné du terme ''dauphin'' ou ''dauphine''.

Ce titre est souvent employé pour un héritier n'ayant pas encore de titre propre, comme par exemple "Untel est le prince dauphin de la duchesse Unetelle" ou encore quand on veut mentionner le titre d'un noble possédant déjà un plus haute titre ou pour éviter une répétition, comme par exemple "C'est le duc Untel qui est prince du comté de Ci".

Les termes ''seigneur'' et ''seigneure'' s'emploient comme les titres de prince et de princesse, hormis pour les dauphins.

=== Régnants, régnantes et consorts ===
On considère un prince comme ''reignant'' et une princesse comme ''reignante'' quand iels ont acquis leur titre de manière conforme (par hérédité ou abdication).

On considère un prince ou une princesse comme ''consort'' quand iel a acquis sont titre par mariage.

=== Archiducs et archiduchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition majeure a le titre de ''archiduc'' ou ''archiduchesse''. Ce titre n'est pas différent de "duc·hesse", si ce n'est que les seconds doivent rendre hommage aux premiers, d'un point de vue féodal. Ils ont tous deux des territoires indépendants, il n'y a pas de vassalité entre les deux.

D'un point de vue religieux cependant, les archiducs sont considérés directement au-dessus des ducs. Ces derniers doivent faire valider toute décision religieuse à leur archiduc·hesse, sauf si cette décision en revient directement au psychopompe.

Les archiducs sont, d'un point de vue religieux toujours, les seuls serviteurs directs de leurs psychopompes respectifs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e archiduc·hesse, l'''archiduché''.

=== Ducs et duchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition mineure est appelée ''duc'' ou ''duchesse''.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e duc·hesse le ''duché''.

=== Comtes et comtesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition tribue est appelée ''comte'' ou ''comtesse''.

Les comtes sont directement vassaux des (archi)ducs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e comte·sse le ''comté''.

=== Marquis et marquises ===
La personne noble dirigeant une terre qui n'est pas sa propre tradition, est appelée ''marquis'' ou ''marquise''.

Les marquis sont directement vassaux des comtes.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e marquis·e le ''marquisat''.

=== Barons et baronnes ===
Il arrive parfois que, par nécessité, on accorde la gestion d'une petite terre à un bourgeois ou à un roturier, qui se retrouve ainsi anobli par nécessité. On accorde à ces personne le titre de ''baron'' ou ''baronne''.

Ils sont toujours des vassaux d'un comté ou d'un marquisat.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e baron·ne la ''baronnie''.

{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il y a des cas où la transmission d'un titre de comte·sse ou de marquis·e se fait à une personne non-noble, faisant de celle-ci de facto un·e baron·ne. Quand cela arrive, il y a plusieurs cas de figure applicables:|Si c'est un marquisat qui devient un baronnie, alors il n'y a aucun problème, les terres étaient et restent sous la vassalité d'un·e comte·sse.|Dans le cas d'un·e comte·sse, il est possible alors de soit placer la baronnie directement sous la vassalité de l'(archi)duc·hesse, soit de faire exception et de titrer la nouvelle noble comme comte·sse et non baron·ne.|Enfin, dans le très très rare cas où cela peut se produire pour un (archi)duché, alors il n'y a pas d'issue: le·a baron·ne devient un·e (archi)duc·esse.}}{{JdR/Textbox|anecdote|Dans toute l'histoire de Rosarya, le cas de figure d'un duc qui abdique pour une personne non-noble n'est survenue qu'une seule fois, à la fin du Deuxième Âge au sein de la tradition Expressionniste.|Il s'agissait d'un coup d'état effectué par des rebelles, très largement soutenus par le peuple. Bien entendu, les autres duchés et a fortiori l'archiduchesse de cette époque ne voulaient pas reconnaître sa légitimité, mais le coup d'état a été validé par la Psychopompe, un peu à la surprise générale, ce qui a forcé toutes et tous à s'y plier.}}

=== Sire et dame ===
Quand un·e noble ne possède pas de terre (et donc n'est ni prince, ni princesse), iel est appelé·e ''sire'' ou ''dame.''
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il est largement toléré pour le peuple d'appeler les prince·sses ''monseigneur'', ''maseigneure'', ''sire'' ou ''dame'' malgré son titre réel.}}

=== Petite et haute noblesse ===
Il y a une distinction de classe entre les nobles, qui forment deux cliques : la petite et la haute noblesse.

La ''haute noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse terrienne de tradition, c'est à dire des (archi)ducs et des comtes.

La ''petite noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse de non-tradition, c'est à dire des marquis, des barons et des nobles sans terre.

=== Chevaliers et chevaleresses ===
On appelle ''chevalier'' ou ''chevaleresse'' une personne noble qui a fait un serment d'arme à son suzerain, c'est à dire qu'iel a solennellement promis à son suzerain de combattre pour iel.

Iel peut posséder des terres ou non, et ce titre vient s'ajouter aux autre qu'iel possède.

Par exemple, il arrive régulièrement que pour montrer son amitié et rendre hommage à l'archiduché, un membre d'une famille ducale fasse le serment de chevalerie à son archiduc·hesse, ce qui s'accompagne souvent d'un poste à responsabilité à sa cour (comme par exemple, devenir sénéchal du palais de l'archiduc·hesse ou encore général d'une armée).

=== Tableau récapitulatif ===
{| class="wikitable"
|+
!Tradition (type)
!Titre
!Vassaux
!Suzerain
!Territoire
!Noblesse (type)
|-
|Majeure
|Archiduchesse Archiduc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Archiduché
|Haute
|-
|Mineure
|Duchesse Duc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Duché
|Haute
|-
|Tribue
|Comtessse Comtes
|Marquis Barons
|Duc ou Archiduc
|Comté
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Marquise Marquis
|Barons
|Comte
|Marquisat
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Baronne Baron
|''aucun''
|Comte ou Marquis
|Baronnie
|Petite
|}

== Appellations locales des titres de noblesse ==
Chaque tradition majeure a une hiérarchie propre à son fonctionnement interne, qui vient s'ajouter aux hiérarchies féodale et religieuse. Il existe souvent des corrélations entre les titres de cette hiérarchie interne et les titre féodaux génériques, qui sont compilées dans cette section.

Quand ce n'est pas précisé, les appellations générique existent et sont employées comme telles.

=== Druidisme ===

* Le titre de ''haut·e druide·sse'' est équivalent à ''archiduc'' et à ''duc''.
* Les ''comtes'', ''marquis'' et ''barons'' sont des ''sédants''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' son des ''dolms'', ou, en fonction du contexte, des ''lahgs''.

Les titres propres aux druides sont toujours préférés, il y a donc peu de distinction entre les comtes, les marquis et les barons au sein de cette tradition.

=== Foi ===
Les appellations de la Foi dépendent d'un rang relatif, donc les indications données ici peuvent ne pas être représentatives de certaines communautés.

* Le titre de ''Prima Okfant Tradiven'' correspond à celui d'''archiduc·hesse''
* Le titre de ''Mélia Okfant Tradiven'' est celui d'un ''duc''. Parfois le signet ''Sepfant'' est utilisé, notamment pour les régents.
* Le titre de ''Téria Kvinfant Tradiven'' est équivalent à ''comte'', mais on trouve aussi des comtes qui ont le signet de ''Sesfant'' ou de ''Kvarfant''.
* Les titres de ''Tul Kvarfant'' est souvent celui des ''marquis'', avec un labret qui correspond à l'attribution de leur communauté.
* Les ''barons'' sont similaires, mais plus souvent avec le signet de ''Trifant''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' on des signets variables, en fonction de leur importance. Les magistrat et les hauts fonctionnaires auront un signet plus élevé, mais les nobles de bas rang seront la plupart du temps ''Unufant'', ''Dufant'' ou ''Trifant''.
Comme les appellations clergesses sont austères, et parfois ambigües, on utilise de préférence le signet en interne de la tradition, là où la hiérarchie féodale importe moins que la hiérarchie propre à la Foi. À l'extérieur du territoire, notamment dans les cours étrangères, les titres féodaux usuels sont préférés car ils renvoient au status terrien et de tradition de chaque noble.

=== Shamanisme ===
Les shamans, de par leur individualisme inter-communautés, font peu de distinctions entre les rangs des dirigeants.

Ainsi, le titre de ''doyen'' est partagé par les archiducs, les ducs, les comtes, les marquis et les barons. La distinction se fait principalement par l'appellation territoriale (par exemple, on dit ''le doyen de l'archiduché'' plutôt que ''l'archiduc'').

Le suffixe ''versé'' convient à tous les autres nobles.

Les titres de ''prince'' et ''princesse'' sont cependant très usités quand on parle de membres de la famille d'un doyen.

À l'extérieur de la tradition shamanique, les appellations féodales sont tolérées, mais les seigneur·es shamans préfèrent largement l'appellation de ''doyen''.

=== Perfectionnisme ===
Pour obtenir le titre de prince, les moines et les moniales doivent d'abord obtenir le titre de ''lama'', c'est à dire de terminer leurs enseignements. On ne peut pas prétendre à un trône quel qu'il soit si on n'est que ''drapa'' ou ''bagwa''.

Ainsi, les appellations noble des perfectionnistes sont ainsi:

* Les ''archiduc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama ipsoprima''.
* Les ''duc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama prima''.
* Les ''comte·sses'' sont appelés ''lama seca''.
* Les ''marquis·es'' sont appelés ''lama tertia''.
* Les ''baron·nes'' sont appelés ''lama ulta''.
* Les ''sires'' et ''dames'' sont simplement nommé·e selon leur rang monacal, c'est à dire ''bagwa, drapa'' ou ''lama.''

=== Linguistique ===
La Linguistique utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

Cependant, il existe des termes alternatifs, étymologiquement proches qui sont préférés par les roturiers et la plupart des bourgeois.

*''Trèducal·e'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Ducal·e'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Comme·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Arqu''e pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Ron·ne'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Expressionnisme ===
L'Expressionnisme utilise des termes qui sont des stricts synonyme de titres usuels :

* ''Archimaestre·sse'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Grand·e maestre·sse'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Maestre·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Lustrie·sse'' pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Réputé·e'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Alchimie ===
L'Alchimie utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

=== Arcanisme ===
L'Arcanisme utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

== L'héritage des titres de noblesse ==
L'héritier est celui ou celle qui acquiert le titre d'un noble à sa mort ou son abdication. Il n'y a pas de règle standard dans la féodalité de Rosarya, mais l'usage fait qu'il s'agit le plu souvent de l'enfant aîné qui est le premier héritier (c'est généralement celui qui est éduqué pour ça), et ce sans distinction de s'il s'agit d'un enfant biologique ou adopté.

Il est cependant possible de nommer n'importe qui comme héritier. Cela se fait en particulier quand un·e prince·sse est souffrant·e ou sur le point de partir au combat et qu'aucun descendant direct n'est présent. On désigne souvent un parent proche comme héritier.
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Dans le rarissime cas où un noble de sang nomme un non-noble comme héritier, celui-ci prend automatiquement le titre de baron, peut importe le titre de celui ou celle dont il hérite.|Si c'est un héritage avec terre, on ajoute 'baron-' en tant que préfixe au titre. Par exemple : Baron-comte. Il est cependant à noter que ce cas spécifique n'est apparu qu'extrêmement rarement dans l'histoire de Rosarya.}}
Quand aucun héritier n'est désigné (cas relativement courant : quand le suzerain et son héritier décède lors d'un même incident), alors l'usage veut que l'héritier soit choisit selon la priorité suivante :

* L'époux ou l'épouse.
* Un parent proche qui a déjà eu le trône (exemple : la mère ou le père qui aurait abdiqué ou aurait été consort)
* Un parent proche n'ayant pas gouverné sous ce titre (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie), ou sinon le père ou la mère.
* Un de enfants (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre de plus haut rang (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre quelconque (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque sans titre.
* Le plus haut ministre du gouvernement.

Cela peut faire changer la maison gouvernante.

Il n'y a pas de notion de "deuxième enfant" ou de troisième enfant", etc. Soit on est dauphin, soit on ne l'est pas.

Dans la société Rosaryenne, il est très mal vu de déshériter à l'improviste. Il est cependant possible de donner le titre de dauphin avec conditions (par exemple : tu sera mon héritier jusqu'à la naissance de mon premier enfant).

Il n'est cependant pas infamant de déshériter une personne qui s'est elle-même portée en infamie.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/La Féodalité à Rosarya

2026-04-21T09:02:37Z

Senua :

== Avant-propos ==
Sur Rosarya, la noblesse est ecclésiastique et la religion est incarnée par la noblesse.

Quand on parle de féodalité, on parle donc de hiérarchie religieuse, mais aussi de tout ce qui incombe à la féodalité, c'est à dire la vassalité et la possession et la transmission de terres.

Les titres de noblesses sont héréditaires. La transmission peut-être répudiée à loisir par le·a prince·sse reignant·e, et transmise à qui iel le souhaite. Tout titre peut être abdiqué de son vivant et offert à qui on le souhaite.

Dans tous les cas, épouser une personne noble accorde tous ses titres à son époux·se.

Il n'y a pas de notion de royaume ou d'empire dans Rosarya. Les terres des huit traditions sont des ''nations'' (à ne pas confondre avec le terme ''pays'', qui sert à désigner des territoires géographique, ou parfois qui désigne grossièrement les terres d'un prince ou d'une princesse).

== La hiérarchie des traditions ==
Il y a une hiérarchie stricte des traditions à Rosarya. Cette hiérarchie n'incombe qu'à l'ordre religieux, mais il est proche de la hiérarchie féodale.

Les traditions sont découpées en trois catégories :

* Les traditions majeures sont les neuf traditions fondatrices, soit le Druidisme, la Foi, le Shamanisme, le Perfectionnisme, la Linguistique, l'Expressionnisme, l'Alchimie et l'Arcanisme et l'Égérie. Elle ont été fondées par les Psychopompe (exceptée l'Égérie) et ceux-ci jouent le rôle de guise spirituel. Les dirigeants des traditions majeures sont les archiducs.
* Les traditions mineures sont des branches secondaires des traditions majeures, dont la fondation dépend de l'accord du Psychopompe associé. Elles sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodée à leur tradition majeure. Leurs dirigeants sont les ducs.
* Les traditions tribues sont des branches tertiaires de leur tradition majeure. Leur fondation ne dépend que de l'accord de la tradition majeure et sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodées à leur tradition mineure respective. Leurs dirigeants sont les comtes.

== Titres de noblesse ==

=== Princes et princesses, seigneur et seigneure ===
Tout noble possédant des terre est considéré ''prince'' ou ''princesse''. C'est également le cas de l'héritier d'un titre, qui est alors accompagné du terme ''dauphin'' ou ''dauphine''.

Ce titre est souvent employé pour un héritier n'ayant pas encore de titre propre, comme par exemple "Untel est le prince dauphin de la duchesse Unetelle" ou encore quand on veut mentionner le titre d'un noble possédant déjà un plus haute titre ou pour éviter une répétition, comme par exemple "C'est le duc Untel qui est prince du comté de Ci".

Les termes ''seigneur'' et ''seigneure'' s'emploient comme les titres de prince et de princesse, hormis pour les dauphins.

=== Régnants, régnantes et consorts ===
On considère un prince comme ''reignant'' et une princesse comme ''reignante'' quand iels ont acquis leur titre de manière conforme (par hérédité ou abdication).

On considère un prince ou une princesse comme ''consort'' quand iel a acquis sont titre par mariage.

=== Archiducs et archiduchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition majeure a le titre de ''archiduc'' ou ''archiduchesse''. Ce titre n'est pas différent de "duc·hesse", si ce n'est que les seconds doivent rendre hommage aux premiers, d'un point de vue féodal. Ils ont tous deux des territoires indépendants, il n'y a pas de vassalité entre les deux.

D'un point de vue religieux cependant, les archiducs sont considérés directement au-dessus des ducs. Ces derniers doivent faire valider toute décision religieuse à leur archiduc·hesse, sauf si cette décision en revient directement au psychopompe.

Les archiducs sont, d'un point de vue religieux toujours, les seuls serviteurs directs de leurs psychopompes respectifs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e archiduc·hesse, l'''archiduché''.

=== Ducs et duchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition mineure est appelée ''duc'' ou ''duchesse''.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e duc·hesse le ''duché''.

=== Comtes et comtesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition tribue, est appelée ''comte'' ou ''comtesse''.

Les comtes sont directement vassaux des ducs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e comte·sse le ''comté''.

=== Marquis et marquises ===
La personne noble de sang ou de mariage dirigeant une terre qui n'est pas sa propre tradition, est appelée ''marquis'' ou ''marquise''.

Les marquis sont directement vassaux des comtes.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e marquis·e le ''marquisat''.

=== Barons et baronnes ===
Il arrive parfois que, par nécessité, on accorde la gestion d'une petite terre à un bourgeois ou à un roturier, qui se retrouve ainsi anobli par nécessité. On accorde à ces personne le titre de ''baron'' ou ''baronne''.

Ils ne sont pas liés à une traditions, et sont toujours des vassaux d'un comté ou d'un marquisat.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e baron·ne la ''baronnie''.

=== Sire et dame ===
Quand un·e noble ne possède pas de terre (et donc n'est ni prince, ni princesse), iel est appelé·e ''sire'' ou ''dame.''
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il est largement toléré pour le peuple d'appeler les prince·sses ''monseigneur'', ''maseigneure'', ''sire'' ou ''dame'' malgré son titre réel.}}

=== Petite et haute noblesse ===
Il y a une distinction de classe entre les nobles, qui forment deux cliques : la petite et la haute noblesse.

La ''haute noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse terrienne de tradition, c'est à dire des (archi)ducs et des comtes.

La ''petite noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse de non-tradition, c'est à dire des marquis, des barons et des nobles sans terre.

=== Chevaliers et chevaleresses ===
On appelle ''chevalier'' ou ''chevaleresse'' une personne noble qui a fait un serment d'arme à son suzerain, c'est à dire qu'iel a solennellement promis à son suzerain de combattre pour iel.

Iel peut posséder des terres ou non, et ce titre vient s'ajouter aux autre qu'iel possède.

Par exemple, il arrive régulièrement que pour montrer son amitié et rendre hommage à l'archiduché, un membre d'une famille ducale fasse le serment de chevalerie à son archiduc·hesse, ce qui s'accompagne souvent d'un poste à responsabilité à sa cour (comme par exemple, devenir sénéchal du palais de l'archiduc·hesse ou encore général d'une armée).

=== Tableau récapitulatif ===
{| class="wikitable"
|+
!Tradition (type)
!Titre
!Vassaux
!Suzerain
!Territoire
!Noblesse (type)
|-
|Majeure
|Archiduchesse Archiduc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Archiduché
|Haute
|-
|Mineure
|Duchesse Duc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Duché
|Haute
|-
|Tribue
|Comtessse Comtes
|Marquis Barons
|Duc ou Archiduc
|Comté
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Marquise Marquis
|Barons
|Comte
|Marquisat
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Baronne Baron
|''aucun''
|Comte ou Marquis
|Baronnie
|Petite
|}

== Appellations locales des titres de noblesse ==
Chaque tradition majeure a une hiérarchie propre à son fonctionnement interne, qui vient s'ajouter aux hiérarchies féodale et religieuse. Il existe souvent des corrélations entre les titres de cette hiérarchie interne et les titre féodaux génériques, qui sont compilées dans cette section.

Quand ce n'est pas précisé, les appellations générique existent et sont employées comme telles.

=== Druidisme ===

* Le titre de ''haut·e druide·sse'' est équivalent à ''archiduc'' et à ''duc''.
* Les ''comtes'', ''marquis'' et ''barons'' sont des ''sédants''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' son des ''dolms'', ou, en fonction du contexte, des ''lahgs''.

Les titres propres aux druides sont toujours préférés, il y a donc peu de distinction entre les comtes, les marquis et les barons au sein de cette tradition.

=== Foi ===
Les appellations de la Foi dépendent d'un rang relatif, donc les indications données ici peuvent ne pas être représentatives de certaines communautés.

* Le titre de ''Prima Okfant Tradiven'' correspond à celui d'''archiduc·hesse''
* Le titre de ''Mélia Okfant Tradiven'' est celui d'un ''duc''. Parfois le signet ''Sepfant'' est utilisé, notamment pour les régents.
* Le titre de ''Téria Kvinfant Tradiven'' est équivalent à ''comte'', mais on trouve aussi des comtes qui ont le signet de ''Sesfant'' ou de ''Kvarfant''.
* Les titres de ''Tul Kvarfant'' est souvent celui des ''marquis'', avec un labret qui correspond à l'attribution de leur communauté.
* Les ''barons'' sont similaires, mais plus souvent avec le signet de ''Trifant''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' on des signets variables, en fonction de leur importance. Les magistrat et les hauts fonctionnaires auront un signet plus élevé, mais les nobles de bas rang seront la plupart du temps ''Unufant'', ''Dufant'' ou ''Trifant''.
Comme les appellations clergesses sont austères, et parfois ambigües, on utilise de préférence le signet en interne de la tradition, là où la hiérarchie féodale importe moins que la hiérarchie propre à la Foi. À l'extérieur du territoire, notamment dans les cours étrangères, les titres féodaux usuels sont préférés car ils renvoient au status terrien et de tradition de chaque noble.

=== Shamanisme ===
Les shamans, de par leur individualisme inter-communautés, font peu de distinctions entre les rangs des dirigeants.

Ainsi, le titre de ''doyen'' est partagé par les archiducs, les ducs, les comtes, les marquis et les barons. La distinction se fait principalement par l'appellation territoriale (par exemple, on dit ''le doyen de l'archiduché'' plutôt que ''l'archiduc'').

Le suffixe ''versé'' convient à tous les autres nobles.

Les titres de ''prince'' et ''princesse'' sont cependant très usités quand on parle de membres de la famille d'un doyen.

À l'extérieur de la tradition shamanique, les appellations féodales sont tolérées, mais les seigneur·es shamans préfèrent largement l'appellation de ''doyen''.

=== Perfectionnisme ===
Pour obtenir le titre de prince, les moines et les moniales doivent d'abord obtenir le titre de ''lama'', c'est à dire de terminer leurs enseignements. On ne peut pas prétendre à un trône quel qu'il soit si on n'est que ''drapa'' ou ''bagwa''.

Ainsi, les appellations noble des perfectionnistes sont ainsi:

* Les ''archiduc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama ipsoprima''.
* Les ''duc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama prima''.
* Les ''comte·sses'' sont appelés ''lama seca''.
* Les ''marquis·es'' sont appelés ''lama tertia''.
* Les ''baron·nes'' sont appelés ''lama ulta''.
* Les ''sires'' et ''dames'' sont simplement nommé·e selon leur rang monacal, c'est à dire ''bagwa, drapa'' ou ''lama.''

=== Linguistique ===
La Linguistique utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

Cependant, il existe des termes alternatifs, étymologiquement proches qui sont préférés par les roturiers et la plupart des bourgeois.

*''Trèducal·e'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Ducal·e'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Comme·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Arqu''e pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Ron·ne'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Expressionnisme ===
L'Expressionnisme utilise des termes qui sont des stricts synonyme de titres usuels :

* ''Archimaestre·sse'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Grand·e maestre·sse'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Maestre·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Lustrie·sse'' pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Réputé·e'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Alchimie ===
L'Alchimie utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

=== Arcanisme ===
L'Arcanisme utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

== L'héritage des titres de noblesse ==
L'héritier est celui ou celle qui acquiert le titre d'un noble à sa mort ou son abdication. Il n'y a pas de règle standard dans la féodalité de Rosarya, mais l'usage fait qu'il s'agit le plu souvent de l'enfant aîné qui est le premier héritier (c'est généralement celui qui est éduqué pour ça), et ce sans distinction de s'il s'agit d'un enfant biologique ou adopté.

Il est cependant possible de nommer n'importe qui comme héritier. Cela se fait en particulier quand un·e prince·sse est souffrant·e ou sur le point de partir au combat et qu'aucun descendant direct n'est présent. On désigne souvent un parent proche comme héritier.
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Dans le rarissime cas où un noble de sang nomme un non-noble comme héritier, celui-ci prend automatiquement le titre de baron, peut importe le titre de celui ou celle dont il hérite.|Si c'est un héritage avec terre, on ajoute 'baron-' en tant que préfixe au titre. Par exemple : Baron-comte. Il est cependant à noter que ce cas spécifique n'est apparu qu'extrêmement rarement dans l'histoire de Rosarya.}}
Quand aucun héritier n'est désigné (cas relativement courant : quand le suzerain et son héritier décède lors d'un même incident), alors l'usage veut que l'héritier soit choisit selon la priorité suivante :

* L'époux ou l'épouse.
* Un parent proche qui a déjà eu le trône (exemple : la mère ou le père qui aurait abdiqué ou aurait été consort)
* Un parent proche n'ayant pas gouverné sous ce titre (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie), ou sinon le père ou la mère.
* Un de enfants (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre de plus haut rang (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre quelconque (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque sans titre.
* Le plus haut ministre du gouvernement.

Cela peut faire changer la maison gouvernante.

Il n'y a pas de notion de "deuxième enfant" ou de troisième enfant", etc. Soit on est dauphin, soit on ne l'est pas.

Dans la société Rosaryenne, il est très mal vu de déshériter à l'improviste. Il est cependant possible de donner le titre de dauphin avec conditions (par exemple : tu sera mon héritier jusqu'à la naissance de mon premier enfant).

Il n'est cependant pas infamant de déshériter une personne qui s'est elle-même portée en infamie.

JdR:La Couleur des Roses/1 - Encyclopédie/Culture/La Féodalité à Rosarya

2026-04-21T09:00:45Z

Senua :

== Avant-propos ==
Sur Rosarya, la noblesse est ecclésiastique et la religion est incarnée par la noblesse.

Quand on parle de féodalité, on parle donc de hiérarchie religieuse, mais aussi de tout ce qui incombe à la féodalité, c'est à dire la vassalité et la possession et la transmission de terres.

Les titres de noblesses sont héréditaires. La transmission peut-être répudiée à loisir par le·a prince·sse reignant·e, et transmise à qui iel le souhaite. Tout titre peut être abdiqué de son vivant et offert à qui on le souhaite.

Dans tous les cas, épouser une personne noble accorde tous ses titres à son époux·se.

Il n'y a pas de notion de royaume ou d'empire dans Rosarya. Les terres des huit traditions sont des ''nations'' (à ne pas confondre avec le terme ''pays'', qui sert à désigner des territoires géographique, ou parfois qui désigne grossièrement les terres d'un prince ou d'une princesse).

== La hiérarchie des traditions ==
Il y a une hiérarchie stricte des traditions à Rosarya. Cette hiérarchie n'incombe qu'à l'ordre religieux, mais il est proche de la hiérarchie féodale.

Les traditions sont découpées en trois catégories :

* Les traditions majeures sont les neuf traditions fondatrices, soit le Druidisme, la Foi, le Shamanisme, le Perfectionnisme, la Linguistique, l'Expressionnisme, l'Alchimie et l'Arcanisme et l'Égérie. Elle ont été fondées par les Psychopompe (exceptée l'Égérie) et ceux-ci jouent le rôle de guise spirituel. Les dirigeants des traditions majeures sont les archiducs.
* Les traditions mineures sont des branches secondaires des traditions majeures, dont la fondation dépend de l'accord du Psychopompe associé. Elles sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodée à leur tradition majeure. Leurs dirigeants sont les ducs.
* Les traditions tribues sont des branches tertiaires de leur tradition majeure. Leur fondation ne dépend que de l'accord de la tradition majeure et sont, d'un point de vue religieux, inféodées à leur tradition mineure respective. Leurs dirigeants sont les comtes.

== Titres de noblesse ==

=== Princes et princesses, seigneur et seigneure ===
Tout noble possédant des terre est considéré ''prince'' ou ''princesse''. C'est également le cas de l'héritier d'un titre, qui est alors accompagné du terme ''dauphin'' ou ''dauphine''.

Ce titre est souvent employé pour un héritier n'ayant pas encore de titre propre, comme par exemple "Untel est le prince dauphin de la duchesse Unetelle" ou encore quand on veut mentionner le titre d'un noble possédant déjà un plus haute titre ou pour éviter une répétition, comme par exemple "C'est le duc Untel qui est prince du comté de Ci".

Les termes ''seigneur'' et ''seigneure'' s'emploient comme les titres de prince et de princesse, hormis pour les dauphins.

=== Régnants, régnantes et consorts ===
On considère un prince comme ''reignant'' et une princesse comme ''reignante'' quand iels ont acquis leur titre de manière conforme (par hérédité ou abdication).

On considère un prince ou une princesse comme ''consort'' quand iel a acquis sont titre par mariage.

=== Archiducs et archiduchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition majeure a le titre de ''archiduc'' ou ''archiduchesse''. Ce titre n'est pas différent de "duc·hesse", si ce n'est que les seconds doivent rendre hommage aux premiers, d'un point de vue féodal. Ils ont tous deux des territoires indépendants, il n'y a pas de vassalité entre les deux.

D'un point de vue religieux cependant, les archiducs sont considérés directement au-dessus des ducs. Ces derniers doivent faire valider toute décision religieuse à leur archiduc·hesse, sauf si cette décision en revient directement au psychopompe.

Les archiducs sont, d'un point de vue religieux toujours, les seuls serviteurs directs de leurs psychopompes respectifs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e archiduc·hesse, l'''archiduché''.

=== Ducs et duchesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition mineure au premier degré est appelée ''duc'' ou ''duchesse''.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e duc·hesse le ''duché''.

=== Comtes et comtesses ===
La personne dirigeant une tradition tribue, est appelée ''comte'' ou ''comtesse''.

Les comtes sont directement vassaux des ducs.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e comte·sse le ''comté''.

=== Marquis et marquises ===
La personne noble de sang ou de mariage dirigeant une terre qui n'est pas sa propre tradition, est appelée ''marquis'' ou ''marquise''.

Les marquis sont directement vassaux des comtes.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e marquis·e le ''marquisat''.

=== Barons et baronnes ===
Il arrive parfois que, par nécessité, on accorde la gestion d'une petite terre à un bourgeois ou à un roturier, qui se retrouve ainsi anobli par nécessité. On accorde à ces personne le titre de ''baron'' ou ''baronne''.

Ils ne sont pas liés à une traditions, et sont toujours des vassaux d'un comté ou d'un marquisat.

On appelle le règne et le territoire d'un·e baron·ne la ''baronnie''.

=== Sire et dame ===
Quand un·e noble ne possède pas de terre (et donc n'est ni prince, ni princesse), iel est appelé·e ''sire'' ou ''dame.''
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Il est largement toléré pour le peuple d'appeler les prince·sses ''monseigneur'', ''maseigneure'', ''sire'' ou ''dame'' malgré son titre réel.}}

=== Petite et haute noblesse ===
Il y a une distinction de classe entre les nobles, qui forment deux cliques : la petite et la haute noblesse.

La ''haute noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse terrienne de tradition, c'est à dire des (archi)ducs et des comtes.

La ''petite noblesse'' est constituée de la noblesse de non-tradition, c'est à dire des marquis, des barons et des nobles sans terre.

=== Chevaliers et chevaleresses ===
On appelle ''chevalier'' ou ''chevaleresse'' une personne noble qui a fait un serment d'arme à son suzerain, c'est à dire qu'iel a solennellement promis à son suzerain de combattre pour iel.

Iel peut posséder des terres ou non, et ce titre vient s'ajouter aux autre qu'iel possède.

Par exemple, il arrive régulièrement que pour montrer son amitié et rendre hommage à l'archiduché, un membre d'une famille ducale fasse le serment de chevalerie à son archiduc·hesse, ce qui s'accompagne souvent d'un poste à responsabilité à sa cour (comme par exemple, devenir sénéchal du palais de l'archiduc·hesse ou encore général d'une armée).

=== Tableau récapitulatif ===
{| class="wikitable"
|+
!Tradition (type)
!Titre
!Vassaux
!Suzerain
!Territoire
!Noblesse (type)
|-
|Majeure
|Archiduchesse Archiduc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Archiduché
|Haute
|-
|Mineure
|Duchesse Duc
|Comtes
|''aucun''
|Duché
|Haute
|-
|Tribue
|Comtessse Comtes
|Marquis Barons
|Duc ou Archiduc
|Comté
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Marquise Marquis
|Barons
|Comte
|Marquisat
|Petite
|-
|''aucune''
|Baronne Baron
|''aucun''
|Comte ou Marquis
|Baronnie
|Petite
|}

== Appellations locales des titres de noblesse ==
Chaque tradition majeure a une hiérarchie propre à son fonctionnement interne, qui vient s'ajouter aux hiérarchies féodale et religieuse. Il existe souvent des corrélations entre les titres de cette hiérarchie interne et les titre féodaux génériques, qui sont compilées dans cette section.

Quand ce n'est pas précisé, les appellations générique existent et sont employées comme telles.

=== Druidisme ===

* Le titre de ''haut·e druide·sse'' est équivalent à ''archiduc'' et à ''duc''.
* Les ''comtes'', ''marquis'' et ''barons'' sont des ''sédants''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' son des ''dolms'', ou, en fonction du contexte, des ''lahgs''.

Les titres propres aux druides sont toujours préférés, il y a donc peu de distinction entre les comtes, les marquis et les barons au sein de cette tradition.

=== Foi ===
Les appellations de la Foi dépendent d'un rang relatif, donc les indications données ici peuvent ne pas être représentatives de certaines communautés.

* Le titre de ''Prima Okfant Tradiven'' correspond à celui d'''archiduc·hesse''
* Le titre de ''Mélia Okfant Tradiven'' est celui d'un ''duc''. Parfois le signet ''Sepfant'' est utilisé, notamment pour les régents.
* Le titre de ''Téria Kvinfant Tradiven'' est équivalent à ''comte'', mais on trouve aussi des comtes qui ont le signet de ''Sesfant'' ou de ''Kvarfant''.
* Les titres de ''Tul Kvarfant'' est souvent celui des ''marquis'', avec un labret qui correspond à l'attribution de leur communauté.
* Les ''barons'' sont similaires, mais plus souvent avec le signet de ''Trifant''.
* Les ''sires'' et les ''dames'' on des signets variables, en fonction de leur importance. Les magistrat et les hauts fonctionnaires auront un signet plus élevé, mais les nobles de bas rang seront la plupart du temps ''Unufant'', ''Dufant'' ou ''Trifant''.
Comme les appellations clergesses sont austères, et parfois ambigües, on utilise de préférence le signet en interne de la tradition, là où la hiérarchie féodale importe moins que la hiérarchie propre à la Foi. À l'extérieur du territoire, notamment dans les cours étrangères, les titres féodaux usuels sont préférés car ils renvoient au status terrien et de tradition de chaque noble.

=== Shamanisme ===
Les shamans, de par leur individualisme inter-communautés, font peu de distinctions entre les rangs des dirigeants.

Ainsi, le titre de ''doyen'' est partagé par les archiducs, les ducs, les comtes, les marquis et les barons. La distinction se fait principalement par l'appellation territoriale (par exemple, on dit ''le doyen de l'archiduché'' plutôt que ''l'archiduc'').

Le suffixe ''versé'' convient à tous les autres nobles.

Les titres de ''prince'' et ''princesse'' sont cependant très usités quand on parle de membres de la famille d'un doyen.

À l'extérieur de la tradition shamanique, les appellations féodales sont tolérées, mais les seigneur·es shamans préfèrent largement l'appellation de ''doyen''.

=== Perfectionnisme ===
Pour obtenir le titre de prince, les moines et les moniales doivent d'abord obtenir le titre de ''lama'', c'est à dire de terminer leurs enseignements. On ne peut pas prétendre à un trône quel qu'il soit si on n'est que ''drapa'' ou ''bagwa''.

Ainsi, les appellations noble des perfectionnistes sont ainsi:

* Les ''archiduc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama ipsoprima''.
* Les ''duc·hesses'' sont appelés ''lama prima''.
* Les ''comte·sses'' sont appelés ''lama seca''.
* Les ''marquis·es'' sont appelés ''lama tertia''.
* Les ''baron·nes'' sont appelés ''lama ulta''.
* Les ''sires'' et ''dames'' sont simplement nommé·e selon leur rang monacal, c'est à dire ''bagwa, drapa'' ou ''lama.''

=== Linguistique ===
La Linguistique utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

Cependant, il existe des termes alternatifs, étymologiquement proches qui sont préférés par les roturiers et la plupart des bourgeois.

*''Trèducal·e'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Ducal·e'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Comme·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Arqu''e pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Ron·ne'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Expressionnisme ===
L'Expressionnisme utilise des termes qui sont des stricts synonyme de titres usuels :

* ''Archimaestre·sse'' pour ''archiduc·hesse''
* ''Grand·e maestre·sse'' pour ''duc·hesse''
* ''Maestre·sse'' pour ''comte·sse''
* ''Lustrie·sse'' pour ''marquis·e''
* ''Réputé·e'' pour ''baron·ne''
* Les usuels ''sire'' et ''dame'' pour les autres.

=== Alchimie ===
L'Alchimie utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

=== Arcanisme ===
L'Arcanisme utilise les titres de noblesse usuels.

== L'héritage des titres de noblesse ==
L'héritier est celui ou celle qui acquiert le titre d'un noble à sa mort ou son abdication. Il n'y a pas de règle standard dans la féodalité de Rosarya, mais l'usage fait qu'il s'agit le plu souvent de l'enfant aîné qui est le premier héritier (c'est généralement celui qui est éduqué pour ça), et ce sans distinction de s'il s'agit d'un enfant biologique ou adopté.

Il est cependant possible de nommer n'importe qui comme héritier. Cela se fait en particulier quand un·e prince·sse est souffrant·e ou sur le point de partir au combat et qu'aucun descendant direct n'est présent. On désigne souvent un parent proche comme héritier.
{{JdR/Textbox|précision|Dans le rarissime cas où un noble de sang nomme un non-noble comme héritier, celui-ci prend automatiquement le titre de baron, peut importe le titre de celui ou celle dont il hérite.|Si c'est un héritage avec terre, on ajoute 'baron-' en tant que préfixe au titre. Par exemple : Baron-comte. Il est cependant à noter que ce cas spécifique n'est apparu qu'extrêmement rarement dans l'histoire de Rosarya.}}
Quand aucun héritier n'est désigné (cas relativement courant : quand le suzerain et son héritier décède lors d'un même incident), alors l'usage veut que l'héritier soit choisit selon la priorité suivante :

* L'époux ou l'épouse.
* Un parent proche qui a déjà eu le trône (exemple : la mère ou le père qui aurait abdiqué ou aurait été consort)
* Un parent proche n'ayant pas gouverné sous ce titre (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie), ou sinon le père ou la mère.
* Un de enfants (priorité donnée au plus âgé de la fratrie).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre de plus haut rang (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque qui possède un titre quelconque (priorité donnée au plus au rang).
* Un parent quelconque sans titre.
* Le plus haut ministre du gouvernement.

Cela peut faire changer la maison gouvernante.

Il n'y a pas de notion de "deuxième enfant" ou de troisième enfant", etc. Soit on est dauphin, soit on ne l'est pas.

Dans la société Rosaryenne, il est très mal vu de déshériter à l'improviste. Il est cependant possible de donner le titre de dauphin avec conditions (par exemple : tu sera mon héritier jusqu'à la naissance de mon premier enfant).

Il n'est cependant pas infamant de déshériter une personne qui s'est elle-même portée en infamie.