her side, palms open. Her nakedness was stark and beautiful in this pose of waiting. The rich texture of her body glowed by candlelight; her dark areoles seemed blushed with pink, as were her tawny cheeks; and below, the V of her feminine crest bloomed with a bush of black, glistening curls.
“Watch carefully,” he ordered Charlotte. “You study this well, you’ll understand Ilusia at its substance. The postures of humility and the attitude are one. There is no slave better than my Loria to teach you subservience.”
Charlotte stared upward, for the first time observing this simple woman for the dignity and grace she exuded with such abundance. It seemed that until now the contentious novice hadn’t bothered to appraise anything more about her new home than her own contrary feelings. Kneeling still, she sat back on her heels in awe.
“Loria waits now for my command and will bend like the willow to obey my order.” Caius halted in front of his slave saying, “Pose for inspection.”
Loria changed positions facilely, locking her fingers behind her neck, while her elbows and feet were wide apart. Eyes down, lips apart, that aspect of her attitude remained the same.
“And on your knees,” Caius ordered further, watching as the lovely slave fell to the floor like a leaf drops to the earth. Her knees remained spread, but other than this one facet of the pose, her mood, her face, her hands, and eyes didn’t change.
Charlotte was comprehending but not yet schooled enough. The shapes and contours of surrender had many permutations. To miss one might mean she’d miss the very one that would woo her Mountbane to discard this miserable captivity of her loins and make her whole at last. The promise of relief and sexual ecstasy burned through her earlier anger. Though she despised him still, she would have him—even if it meant succumbing to these degrading submissive rituals.
“Head to the floor,” Loria was ordered next. Obeying readily, she fell forward, legs still apart, and pressed her cheek to the stone while clasping her hands behind her, tucking them to her lower back. Her ass was raised above her heels thus exposing every private treasure between her legs. Certainly, her thighs would ache in such a position, but her steady fix on this posture never suggested it caused even a second of discomfort.
Caius made her keep the pose for several minutes while he circled her with a rod in hand and leveled several whisking cuts of wood against her flanks and ass. She jarred slightly with each blow, but kept her repose without a grimace or a cry.
“Slave, rest,” he ordered then, and the submissive collapsed, her ass resting on her heels, her arms stretched forward. Her entire body looked like a sack of wheat slumped languidly on the ground. “See how she becomes so formless? But how her eyes remain half-closed and her lips slightly parted? She is at peace, but watchful. A slave cannot afford the misstep of thoughtlessness. She may rest, but she is waiting for my next command. Prostrate yourself.” The order might have slipped right by a less observant slave. But not Loria. Her body slid forward, opening with arms and legs stretched wide and to her sides as though she were a star about to rise to heaven. Her head bowed once more, as she pressed her forehead into the ground, tucking her chin to her neck. She waited again. “You do these with such flawless precision,” he said to Charlotte, “you may not seduce your master, but you will get his attention.”
Caius glided his rod along the lines of Loria’s body as though he were making a picture of her perfection. Nearly imperceptible shivers could be seen along her skin, as the tiny quakes could not be helped. As her master lodged his piece into the cleft of her ass, she shuddered more, but not so deeply as to offend him. Though Charlotte couldn’t see, she suspected that for a time, the rounded head of his implement was pressed to Loria’s anus. Something in
“Watch carefully,” he ordered Charlotte. “You study this well, you’ll understand Ilusia at its substance. The postures of humility and the attitude are one. There is no slave better than my Loria to teach you subservience.”
Charlotte stared upward, for the first time observing this simple woman for the dignity and grace she exuded with such abundance. It seemed that until now the contentious novice hadn’t bothered to appraise anything more about her new home than her own contrary feelings. Kneeling still, she sat back on her heels in awe.
“Loria waits now for my command and will bend like the willow to obey my order.” Caius halted in front of his slave saying, “Pose for inspection.”
Loria changed positions facilely, locking her fingers behind her neck, while her elbows and feet were wide apart. Eyes down, lips apart, that aspect of her attitude remained the same.
“And on your knees,” Caius ordered further, watching as the lovely slave fell to the floor like a leaf drops to the earth. Her knees remained spread, but other than this one facet of the pose, her mood, her face, her hands, and eyes didn’t change.
Charlotte was comprehending but not yet schooled enough. The shapes and contours of surrender had many permutations. To miss one might mean she’d miss the very one that would woo her Mountbane to discard this miserable captivity of her loins and make her whole at last. The promise of relief and sexual ecstasy burned through her earlier anger. Though she despised him still, she would have him—even if it meant succumbing to these degrading submissive rituals.
“Head to the floor,” Loria was ordered next. Obeying readily, she fell forward, legs still apart, and pressed her cheek to the stone while clasping her hands behind her, tucking them to her lower back. Her ass was raised above her heels thus exposing every private treasure between her legs. Certainly, her thighs would ache in such a position, but her steady fix on this posture never suggested it caused even a second of discomfort.
Caius made her keep the pose for several minutes while he circled her with a rod in hand and leveled several whisking cuts of wood against her flanks and ass. She jarred slightly with each blow, but kept her repose without a grimace or a cry.
“Slave, rest,” he ordered then, and the submissive collapsed, her ass resting on her heels, her arms stretched forward. Her entire body looked like a sack of wheat slumped languidly on the ground. “See how she becomes so formless? But how her eyes remain half-closed and her lips slightly parted? She is at peace, but watchful. A slave cannot afford the misstep of thoughtlessness. She may rest, but she is waiting for my next command. Prostrate yourself.” The order might have slipped right by a less observant slave. But not Loria. Her body slid forward, opening with arms and legs stretched wide and to her sides as though she were a star about to rise to heaven. Her head bowed once more, as she pressed her forehead into the ground, tucking her chin to her neck. She waited again. “You do these with such flawless precision,” he said to Charlotte, “you may not seduce your master, but you will get his attention.”
Caius glided his rod along the lines of Loria’s body as though he were making a picture of her perfection. Nearly imperceptible shivers could be seen along her skin, as the tiny quakes could not be helped. As her master lodged his piece into the cleft of her ass, she shuddered more, but not so deeply as to offend him. Though Charlotte couldn’t see, she suspected that for a time, the rounded head of his implement was pressed to Loria’s anus. Something in
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