Karab looked down at the slave girl kneeling before him. She knelt straight with her knees wide apart and her head bowed. He liked this one. She was tall and strong and mastering her made him feel as if he was bigger than she was. In actuality, Karab barely topped five and a half feet, in addition to being heavy. His silk robes were tailored to hide his weight, but usually they only succeeded in making him look fatter. The rings he wore, mostly for magical protection, and the heavy perfumed oil he used in his hair and thin beard made him seem effeminate at first glance. But, as Rhea and a very few others now living could attest, his mind was steel hidden beneath the perfume and silk. Right now, as she knelt before him, Rhea wondered what the mind was plotting. Karab was cruel for the sake of cruelty. She usually managed to endure his attentions during the New Year celebration, and her master's birthday celebration. The ruler of Pergamum visited only seldom, finding the delights of Dark Hold shabby compared to those of his home city. "You evaded me last night, slave," Karab said. Rhea found his high pitched nasal voice annoying but managed to keep from flinching. She did not object to men whose voices fell naturally in the higher range, Snow Wolf's had been almost as high as hers, which was low for a woman's, but she found the affectation grating. "I'm afraid that means I will have to punish you tonight, my dear. Don't worry, I have your master's full permission to do as I see fit. Lie down by the three rings in the floor." The guest room in the guard tower was not as opulant as the suites, and had far more restraint devices, since it was sometimes used as a spare cell when the dungeon was full. The rings were spaced about four feet apart and set into the stone floor. Rhea hastened to obey, hoping he would be merciful. Karab, after some rummaging in the wardrobe, and in a chest he had brought, proceded to chain her wrists to the ring above her head. He threaded a choke-leash about her throat, above the collar and drew it tight. Rhea coughed and tried to catch her breath. He gagged her with a wadded strip of cloth held in by a second. He took a pole, set with a manacle at each end, and, threading it through the lowest ring, pulled her down to lock her ankles in the irons. Rhea blessed her father for giving her an almost six foot height. Wrapping another chain around her body, he threaded it through the ring near her back, holding her almost immobile. Placing the keys tantalizingly out her reach, he reached back into the trunk and removed a glass jar, holding a large toad. Rhea's eyes grew large as he moved between her wide-spread legs. "You don't like my pet?" Karab asked in mock-hurt tones. His comically sad face twisted into a sadistic leer. "Perhaps the two of you should get acquainted, while I'm at the dinner." He removed the squirming creature from its jar and forced it into the helpless slave girl. Rhea felt the acid burn a track up her throat, but, unable to spew it out, she was forced to swallow hard. Wrapping another piece of cloth tightly around her legs and hips, preventing the toad's escape, he left. "I will return in a few hours slave girl. Be prepared to serve my pleasure." Rhea lay on the floor in torment. The chains were too tight, and she knew she would bruise. The loathsome feeling of the animal fighting in the cramped space made her ill. The only worse sensation was feeling it grow weaker and weaker until it quit moving. She knew it had suffocated. The feeling of lying chained on her back, with a dead toad inside of her was repulsive and she put the thought from her mind. Distracting herself, she thought back a few weeks to the first night her master had summoned her after her punishment. It had been glorious, and she remembered how much she had loved him. He had trusted her enough to allow her to perform slightly dangerous intimate actions upon his body, and now he had loaned her to a jaded pervert from Pergamum. She saw the wisdom of his action, realizing that she was the only one who had the stomach for this kind of treatment. Even now, in her docile state, Chandra would not have taken it. None of the others could satisfy this man unscathed. There was little Karab could do that she had not already survived. The Satyr's Delight in Diebe had taught her endurance and the Chained Collar in Ellanya had given her the high pain threshold. Lost in her musing on the past, Rhea was startled to see Karab returning. She had vauguely heard the night bell sound two times since he left, but was surprised to see him back so soon. "No, my dear, dinner is not over," he tittered. It was an obscene sound coming from a man so large. "I merely wished to see how well acquainted you two were. I excused myself from listening to the singer." He unwrapped the cloth from her hips and placed a fat ringed hand inside of her. Her body, not meant for such abuse, complained and tears began down her cheeks. "There we are." He pulled the amphibious corpse out of her. She visibly relaxed, but was overcome with the urge to retch again. "Wretched girl, you've killed him!" Karab shrieked. "That will have to be punished. But, I am feeling lenient. I will give you some pleasure before the pain begins." He rummaged in his trunk and came up with an oddly shaped iron rod. When he brought it closer, she could see that it was indeed iron, formed into the shape of a phallus, but one that was cleft in the middle as a snake's tongue. Each side was formed complete, with its own head. She looked puzzled and frightened. "I thought by now you would be accustomed to this shape. You frequent the bed of a demon, is that not true?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Is not your master formed like this, even to the iron?" He ignored the frantic shaking of her head. "Every noble in the Empire knows our good Emperor is from the lower planes, either a minion, or perhaps the Destroyer himself, taken mortal guise. It is said the Lord Vendan walked Ellassa in human form once long ago. The stars have lately indicated a massive supernatural upheaval and the balance sways into darkness. He has returned, has He not? And you, lucky slave, are His favorite." Rhea shook her head frantically, wishing he would remove the gag. The iron did not look painful, but she would not hear her master slandered. Continuing to ignore her, Karab finished his lecture on demonology and proceded to thrust the iron rod into her. It was cold and painful, but she had endured larger, since it was probably modeled on Karab's own, which was small-average, and worse. She could tolerate this. "That will be there when I return, or you will suffer the consequences," he told her, turning to return to his dinner. Rhea was right, the iron was not as bad as the toad had been. She lay quietly and thought about what Karab had said. She was surprised to learn that her master was considered a demon, in the literal sense, by some of his nobility. This could be good or bad. She wondered if he realized this, and then considered that he probably did. As she reflected on what she knew of him, she came to understand how some of them could believe such a thing. Karab had told her that the stars were showing massive upheaval. Perhaps that was why she could feel a change in her Power. It had never been great enough to train, but there was a warning tingle, like that of the coal imbedded in the flesh of her shoulder, that told her of something coming. After the fourth tolling of the night bell, Karab returned, looking satisfied and full. He knelt beside her and removed the gag. Swallowing hard, she managed not to vomit from the remainder of the nausea. "You are a lovely thing. If His Majesty ever favors me enough to give you to me, instead of merely loaning, I could find so many more interesting diversions. You would die of course, my dear, but only after I am through with you. Who knows, you may last an entire month." Rhea closed her eyes and gave the ritual response, "If that would please you, Master," she managed through dry tongue and lips. The cloth had left a foul taste in her mouth. Karab began unlocking her chains. He removed the iron rod. She pulled herself to a kneeling position, ignoring the fact that there was blood on her thighs from his rings, and he had left the choke- leash on. He began to divest himself of the food and wine-stained silk robes. Stripping off all but two of his rings, he stood before her, after wrapping himself in a violet silk bathrobe. Taking hold of the choke-leash, he pulled her head up to face him. "You know what I want now. And, my dear, you know what will happen if I feel the slightest scrape from your teeth." He tugged just hard enough that she coughed. "Yes, Master." For good measure, she added, "Your whim is my law." Another ritual phrase, this time one she had learned at the Scarlet Lily. She remained kneeling and opened the front of the robe with gentle hands. Engulfing him with her mouth, she felt the first stirring of blood in the organ. Gently she stroked it to fullness and then ran her tongue in light flicks across the tight skin on the underside of the head. An impatient tug on the leash told her to get on with the procedure. A few prefunctionary licks at the hanging sac and she moved on between his legs. Long strokes brought her to the back sphincter. Biting back her repulsion, she began to probe with her tongue, trying to ignore the clots that hung in the dark hairs nearby. The foul taste filled her mouth, yet she persisted, hoping at least to put him in a pleasant enough mood to spare her any more punishment. Above her, she felt his bulk tremble and heard a sigh. Apparently, he was pleased or else she would soon end with a mouth full of his dirt. He had done that once, released his bowels into her mouth. She had vomited hard and repeatedly, until she dry-heaved into the stone well in the corner. He had lost all interest in her and returned her to the harem unused that time. He had also complained to her master about her ineptitude. She had been sent to the dungeon, pending his departure, and placed in a common cell. Quarg had taught her not to displease Karab. After he had left, her master had questioned her about the incident. Knowing not to lie, she told the truth and had been surprised when he had paled a bit. She was quickly forgiven and returned to the harem. Another tug on her leash told her it was enough. The damp patch on her lower back told her she had successfully satisfied him. There would be more abuse, no doubt, but she bore up under the thought that this was her bad duty, and the rest of the celebrations should be pleasant enough. "You are talented, my dear. So much better than the lad I have to do that at home. He and my favorite girl take turns at it, seeing who can last the longest without gagging. One mouth is like another, wouldn't you say?" "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," she answered rather thickly. "Here, wipe your face, my dear," he said handing her a scrap of a rag. She took it to the basin, and surreptitiously rinsed her mouth a time or two as she clensed her face. Her face clean, although there was still a bad taste in her mouth, she walked back and knelt in front of Karab. "Now what shall I do with you?" Karab asked, more to himself than Rhea. He wandered over to the trunk and rummaged again. He returned with a length of chain, a small crock, and a single bladed whip. He kicked the rug aside, uncovering the lower ring, and removed the hanging globe of witch-light from the hook in the ceiling. Rhea came when she was beckoned and stretched for the ceiling. Karab, standing on a chair, wrapped her wrists in the chains and hung her from the ceiling. As she watched, he rubbed the whip with some oil from the crock. "Every time you whimper, yelp or scream, my dear, I will ram this whip up your hot little gash. That should only make it hotter. You see, up north, they have this lovely plant called the pepper. I have it cultivated in a hothouse back home, and the oil it makes is quite the rage at the houses that cater to a more refined clientele. The fruit is quite spicy to eat, and the oil burns any of the more delicate membranes it contacts. This is your punishment for avoiding me last night, my dear." Neither keeping verbal count himself, nor making her count the blows, Karab began to beat the girl. The whip was slender, and on more than one occasion broke the skin. He had not lied about the oil. Where her back was cut, it burned like fire, and she had not been able to contain her cry. The handle of the whip entered her, again as promised, the oil making it burn horribly. She sobbed again, and the handle thrust into her again, hard and deep. Regaining her control, Rhea begged, "Please, Master. Forgive a slave girl's foolishness. The first night you are in court I am yours, save if my master claims me. Please." "You have learned one lesson, slave girl, now about my little froggy friend..." He struck her again. Fortunately, Karab was given to decadence and had little use for strenuous exercise. The cuts were not deep and should heal quickly, but the pepper burned beyond endurance. Rhea heard the night bell toll again. Karab was breathing heavily from the unaccustomed exertion. "I think that should be enough, my dear. Remember, the first night is mine. I must rest a moment, and think." Placing the handle of the whip inside her, after a fresh coat of oil, He tied her thighs together with the blade. Tears were rolling freely and she gasped for breath in short cries. After resting a moment, he picked up the large beeswax candle and brought it over to her. It was lit and a puddle of molten wax had formed in a well. He held it in front of her and began to pour the hot wax down onto the well-shaped breasts, concentrating especially on the sensitive nipples. Already crying, there was little other form of expression Rhea could use. She hung her head and turned her face away. Having created a thick layer of wax on her body, most of it in interesting patterns if he did say so himself, Karab set the candle back down. "I think you have learned your lesson, my dear." He unhooked her chained wrists from the hook and let her down. She remained standing straight, since he had not given her permission to move. "On your belly at my feet," he finally commanded. Moving awkwardly with the whip still tied inside of her, Rhea dropped first to her knees and then to her belly. The carpet pressed the still-warm wax harder onto her skin. She felt the large K he had drawn across her chest, the wax tightening as it began to harden. He untied the whip and drew it out of her. A faint hope rose. Perhaps this time he would be merciful and use her normally. The hope was crushed by the weight of him settling on her open back. She knew the process. First would be some probing at the front opening and then the ripping sensation at the back. Knowing it would hurt less if she relaxed, she tried to think of more pleasant things, like the butterflies in the garden, how pretty Gold-lily had looked in the green silks this morning, and other pleasant thoughts. It helped some. Then came the rending thrust at the back, with no forewarning. Rhea stifled a scream into the rug. Clenching her teeth on a corner of it, she tried to inflict her pain on something other than her body. She was torn open and it hurt and burned at the same time. The pain lessened only slowly; his thrusts came in deep harsh bursts. Finally it was enough for him, and there was a crushing sensation of his weight upon her, with the vile smell of his oiled hair mingling noxiously with the heavy spice perfume he had requested on her. Withdrawing, he stood up, and went to the basin. Fastidiously cleaning himself, although she had left no residue, he wrapped the robe back around him and stood in front of her. "I have had enough of you, my dear. You may return to the harem, and reflect upon what you have learned. You proved most satisfactory, as usual." "Thank you, Master," she said softly as she stood. He closed the door after watching her until she was out of sight. The marks on her back enhanced her greatly, and the thin pale red stream that was slowly creeping down the back of her thigh was most arousing. He returned to the room, hung the witchlight globe back on its hook, and began plotting what to do to the girl tomorrow, if there was one. If not, young Filgar would serve nicely when he got home.