A Number's Game Ch. 07

Author's Note: You've been very patient, loves. You've humored my plot and character development. Here, then, is your reward. Good girl! Good boy!

Chapter VII - A Learning Experience

I have been in this bed for two weeks. The miraculous medicine has almost completely healed the stripes on my back, but my nether regions are still very tender. As my groomer Eighty-Eight feeds me my breakfast of eggs and cheese, he assures me that they will remain so for some time to come. Though the eggs are delicious, my eyes are drawn to the piece of Ghandrillian chocolate that sits in a tiny silver dish on my tray. I haven't had any since that first piece, but the memory of its creamy bliss has not been forgotten. I can only imagine what occupies the three ornate wooden boxes stacked on the table beside it.

I could get used to Eighty-Eight's constant fussing over me, but know that I won't have time. Thirty-Seven has come with him today. I have a feeling that the chocolate is for her.

"Let's see what you've forgotten," she says. "Present for inspection, Two Seventy-Six."

Though her voice has an air of kindness this morning, I know that Thirty-Seven is not a healer. Though she is to be my teacher, in reality, she is a conqueror, a beautiful despot who is not to be disobeyed. I kneel on the flagstones before her, facing away. They press coldly against my breasts as I reach behind and gingerly part my labia for her as far as my new piercings will allow.

"Good," she says. "You remembered. Let's see how you are healing."

Her breath is warm against my backside as she bends down to inspect me. She gently begins to tug at one of my rings. I try stay silent, but she pulls a little harder and I yelp.

"A few more weeks," she says. "Just enough time to be ready for your dog days. Cloth, Eighty-Eight."

I feel the soft touch of silk between my legs and even this hurts. I know that the sticky moisture I feel is blood. Next, I feel the silk against my backside. Thirty-Seven drags the corner of the rag up and over, slowly tracing a line to my neck. I feel my skin rise to gooseflesh and can't suppress a giggle at the tickling. I am quickly rewarded with a swat from her bare hand.

"Do you think I'm funny?"

"No, my Prime."

"Then don't laugh," she says, tracing circles on my back with the edge of the rag. Though my body twitches, I do not laugh.

"Good girl," she says, seating herself on the bed. "Now kneel and face me."

I turn toward her and kneel. A look of displeasure crosses her face. She looks to Eighty-Eight and he hands her a riding crop, then she stands and walks behind me. "Bend over, Two Seventy-Six."

What have I done wrong? I comply and she gives me three lashes on my backside, landing each blow precisely where the one before it fell. I mewl, but don't cry out.

"That's how many things you're doing wrong," she says. "Think for a moment and correct them. If I have to remind you, I will do so with pain. When you are sure you have it right, tell me. Understand?"

"Yes, my Prime."

I struggle to remember all the things she taught me, but it has been so long ago. My knees are parted, the rings have ensured that I remembered that. My back is straight... My hands! I quickly clasp them behind my back and thrust my chest out. I look to her face and catch a brief glimpse of a smile, but it quickly fades. Head back, eyes down! That's what I've forgotten.

"This girl is ready, my Prime."

"Hmm." She circles me, then stops, sitting once again on the bed. She leans forward and caresses the underside of my left breast. "These are new. A few good meals have done you well."

She traces her finger up and runs it around the edge of my nipple, bringing it to attention. "Why, you're starting to look like an actual woman," she says and then takes my nipple between her thumb and forefinger and begins to squeeze, gently at first but slowly adding pressure. "A forgetful woman. What are you doing wrong?"

The harder I try to remember, the harder Thirty-Seven squeezes. "I... this girl doesn't know, my Prime."

"Something about your feet," she says.

The pain increases as she begins to tug. My breathing becomes a shallow whimper. Feet straight! I quickly point my toes behind me and the vice-like grip on my nipple relaxes.

"Good girl," she says and reaches toward the bedside table, taking the tiny ball of chocolate between the fingers that last held my nipple. "This isn't your usual sweet. It contains Kiraan root, an ingredient which can relieve pain. It is also a mild aphrodisiac. You may refuse it, if you wish."

It is for me! I open my mouth widely and look into her eyes. I realize my mistake and quickly lower my gaze before she corrects me, hoping she'll forgive my breach of etiquette. She takes my chin in her hand. I close my mouth, defeated, but she tilts my head back.

"It's okay," she says. "Look at me, Tithe."

I do, and am struck once more by her appearance. Her blue and gold sunburst eyes burn with a light of their own. The sun from the window paints her hair with auburn fire. This is my Master's Prime. She has pleasured him a thousand nights. I wonder if she knows how much I envy her.

"Open."

She gently places the chocolate on my tongue and it instantly begins to melt. It tastes a little different than I remember, having a slight bitter finish which is probably the drug, but it is still so delicious that I wait as long as I can before swallowing.

"Thank you, my Prime."

Thirty-Seven laughs. "Oh, you will. But not yet. Grooming first."

Thirty-Seven is kind enough to allow me to kneel on a pillow while Eighty-Eight washes me and rubs my body with a lavender-scented oil. My bath is no different from any other he has given me, but as his hands pass over my body, I feel something stirring in me that hasn't been there before. His gentle touch becomes like a blistering heat, the sensation lingering long after his hand has moved on. I can feel my pulse racing, my face flushing. Eighty-Eight isn't a virile man, but his feminine lips, gentle green eyes and lithe body have a strange beauty all their own. He pats me dry with a soft towel and begins to brush my hair when Thirty-Seven stops him.

"Her trinkets, Eighty-Eight," she says, taking the brush from him. "The silver ones."

As she gently brushes my hair, she doesn't get upset with me for not keeping my eyes down. I am thankful for that, for I don't think I could. She is a goddess and I cannot look away. I've admired her beauty often, as one might do with a beautiful painting, but I've never been sexually attracted to a woman before. I cannot understand why I can't take my eyes off of her, why I can't stop thinking how much I want to share pleasures with her. A wry smile comes to her lips.

"You seem to like what you see," she says. "Good. I want you to maintain eye contact with me for the moment. I want what happens next to be a surprise. No peeking. Understand?"

I nod as Eighty-Eight kneels beside me and opens one of the small wooden boxes. I hear a soft jingle and then feel his fingers on my nipple, which needs no coaxing. There is a tightness that circles it, but it doesn't hurt. It feels wonderful. He removes his hand and something small and cold lies against my breast. I shudder and it jingles as his hands move to my other breast.

Thirty-Seven sets down the hairbrush and opens another box, leaving only the largest unopened. "Close your eyes, Two Seventy-Six."

I don't want to. Strangely, I want to keep staring into those beautiful eyes. I want to take in every inch of this woman's body. But I comply, using my mind's eye to remove her green silk dress, revealing the supple flesh of her breasts. I feel a soft brush against my eyelid. As she paints my eyes a color of her choosing, I paint her nipples in a shade as pink as my own in my imagination.

I feel Eighty-Eight gently lifting my backside. I need no more than the suggestion of his hands against my inner thighs to spread them wider. I feel a very light tug at the topmost ring in my labia, then hear another jingle. I am sure I must be bleeding again, but he doesn't clean me.

When Thirty-Seven moves to paint my lips, I open my eyes and glance down. The string of fluid that hangs between my legs is not blood.

Thirty-Seven quickly grabs the hairbrush, reaches around me and gives me five quick swats with it. I know I've done wrong and close my eyes, even though my body doesn't register the swats as pain. It craves more, as many as my Prime, my goddess will give, but I will obey. My lips quiver as she finishes painting them and Eighty-Eight's hands place what can only be a collar around my neck.

"Fetch him," Thirty-Seven says. "She'll be ready soon."

I don't know whom she is referring to, but I don't care as long as she doesn't stop touching me. I hear Eighty-Eight leave the room and close the door behind him, but I do not open my eyes. My breathing is rapid, almost panting, as I hear a jingle of chain and feel a tugging at my neck.

"Stand up," Thirty-Seven says. "Do not open your eyes."

I comply, doing my best to keep my balance with my hands clasped behind my back. I hear the creak of the hinges of the final box before I feel her hands, burning hot, one against my breastbone, the other on my back, slowly bending me over. Just as I am sure that I will lose my balance and crash to the floor, I feel the soft green silk of her dress against the tops of my thighs. I struggle to remain still as I lie across her lap, anticipating a delicious spanking as I feel tiny leather straps caress my backside. Instead, they disappear and I feel her hands grasp my wrists.

"Open yourself," she says softly as she guides my hands to my buttocks, far too high to spread my nether lips. I comply and part my buttocks for her. I flinch when her finger touches my anus.

"If you don't relax, this will really, really hurt, "she says as she rubs my hole with some sort of oil. It doesn't hurt. It feels wonderful, until she slips a finger inside of me. I bite my lip to keep from crying out and try to suppress the whimper.

"Shhh," she says as she slowly slides her finger in and out of me. "It's okay, girl. I'll be very careful. I promise."

Her soft words are reassuring, setting me more at ease. She is truthful. As I begin to relax, the pain eases, slowly transmuting into a sort of pleasure. I sigh.

Her breath is hot in my ear. "Like that, do you?"

"Yes, my Prime," I say with a shudder. "Thank you."

She removes her finger and massages my hole with more oil. "That's good. It's the only place you will be penetrated until your master decides otherwise." She slips her finger back inside of me and adds another one, stretching me. It hurts again, but I relax and push against them, trying to expel them from my body. The pain quickly recedes.

"Good girl," she says, removing her fingers and applying more oil. "How did you know to do that?"

"This girl doesn't know, my Prime."

Her fingers penetrate me again, spreading inside of me, stretching me further. "That's good and I'm glad I didn't have to explain it to you. You're almost ready."

I relax more, enjoying my helplessness in the hands of my goddess, hearing her breathing quickening to match mine, wondering if her face and breasts are as flushed as when she inspected me in my cell. Her hand is gone and replaced by a generous drizzle of the oil.

"You're doing so well," she says. "This is the last of it. After this, it's over."

Over? I don't want it to be over! When I feel something cold touch the rim of my anus, I realize she isn't speaking of the penetration, but of the pain. I reflexively clench against whatever it is.

"You must relax, Two Seventy-Six," she says, stroking my hair. "We can wait, but only for a moment. Let me know when you are ready."

"Yes, my Prime," I say. I take several deep breaths to calm myself before stretching my buttocks as wide as possible. "I... this girl is ready, my Prime."

The tip enters me and very quickly becomes larger than her fingers, stretching me wider than ever. I grit my teeth, feeling as if I will be torn open. Just as I am about to scream, the pain stops as my anus closes over the object, grasping it and pulling it deeper inside of me.

"All done," Thirty-Seven coos in my ear. "Such a good girl."

Panicked, I reach to touch and find that the object is not completely lost inside of me, as it is flanged and part of it is still outside of my rectum. My fingers brush against the leather straps that hang from its end. My mind spins for a moment, wondering how I could possibly be whipped by something that is inserted in me, and then it registers: she treats me not like a slave, not a person. You beat slaves, not caress them. I am wearing a leash and collar.

I am a pet to her, an animal. And animals have tails.

She gently tugs the leash. I want to be a good pet. I don't have to be told to stand or to keep my eyes closed. I feel the soft silk of her dress against my back and the leather straps of my tail brush against my legs as she embraces me from behind and kisses my neck, her hands caressing me. I shudder as her hands drift south, a sharp inhalation as her fingertip brushes one of my rings.

"Very, very good girl," she says, making tiny circles around my throbbing sex with her fingertip, causing tiny jingling sounds from my adornments and rings. She places her other hand on my shoulder, pushing me down, guiding me to kneel once again on the pillow, but facing away from the bed and toward the door.

She steps in front of me. "Look at me, Two Seventy-Six."

I open my eyes and gaze up at her in adoration and awe. She is flushed, just like I pictured her, her breasts heaving, straining against the thin silk of her gown, her nipples hard as stones.

"Are you happy in your new home?" She asks.

My breathing is rapid. "Very much, my Prime."

"Do you want more pleasure?"

"Yes," I say with a hiss. "Please, my Prime!"

"Will you do anything that is commanded of you?" She grins wickedly at me. "Will you pleasure me or anyone I tell you to?"

"Yes, my Prime. I live for you." My voice is almost a shout. "Please, my Prime. I am yours. Command me!"

She steps behind me. My heart sinks as I hear her footsteps retreat. I want so badly to touch her, to caress every inch of her body with my hands and tongue.

"Open your eyes, Tithe," she says, then adds loudly, "she is ready."

The door swings open. Eighty-Eight enters the room and looks at me, his eyes sparkling. He smiles, but quickly casts his eyes to the floor as he holds the door open and bows low.

"Your gift is ready, Master," he says.

I look past the door to the stairs beyond that lead to the higher levels of the castle. His boots are the first thing I see, their hard leather soles echoing down the corridor to either side of the door. His powerful thighs are encased in soft leather breeks. His shirt is white silk and billows around him, hanging loosely from his powerful shoulders, his blonde hair dancing around them as he descends the stairs.

His chin. His nose. His eyes. My Master's angel face. He has come for me at last!

He stands not a foot from me now, looking down at me with the soft, brown eyes of a deer, but there is no smile on his face.

"Eyes down," he says.

I want to reach out. Every muscle, every nerve in my body screams out for me to touch him. My mouth trembles at the taste memory of his cock, his cum. But mostly, I want to gaze upon him, to devour his beauty with my eyes. I almost begin to cry as I avert my gaze to the floor.

"Well done," he says, his voice gentle. "You two have truly transformed her into a thing of beauty. You've created a work of art."

"Thank you, Master," Thirty-Seven and Eighty-Eight say in unison.

"However, art has a tendency to be functionless," he says. "Is she?"

"I doubt you'll have that problem with her, even without the Kiraan root," says Thirty-Seven. "I've given her only the smallest of doses. She may claim to be attracted only to men, but she's been so ready for me that I think she's cum already."

"Look at me, Tithe. " My Master's hand takes my chin, pulling my head back, as if that were necessary. His eyes meet mine. "Have you?"

"No, Master," I say. "I have not, but I want to."

"I'm sure you do," he says with a smirk and takes a step back. "But you will only come when I say you can. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," I say. "This girl understands."

"Close your eyes, precious Sixey," Master says. "Fetch the mirror."

"Yes, Master," says Eighty-Eight. There is a heavy clack of wood on stone in front of me.

It is silent for a moment, and then my Master speaks again.

"Open your eyes."

I do, and also my mouth. I am amazed by what I see. My skin is smooth and clean. I am still thin, but my breasts have begun to fill out again. Tiny silver bells hang from slender silken threads tied in a loop around each nipple. A matching one, glistening with my wetness dangles from the top ring in my labia. My leather tail is in the style of a horse's. It, too, glistens with me. The girl in the mirror excites me, and then I see her face, framed by soft, dark hair which shines with golden highlights.

My lips, painted a wine deep red, are someone else's - appearing far too full to be my own. My eyelids sparkle with violet, silver and a blue so dark that my deep blue eyes appear as pale as glacier ice. It is when I see those eyes that I stop seeing the girl in the mirror as beautiful.

I watch the light of amazement fade from them. A silly farm girl, pretending to be a princess. I look away from the mirror, and instead focus on the girl reflected in the toe of my Master's glossy, black boots. She looks more comfortable there.

Master Twelve's voice is sullen. "Are you not pleased, Two Hundred and Seventy-Six?"

"Your servants do excellent work, my Master," I say, my eyes closing, "given what they have to work with."

Suddenly, my head is jerked back. His fist in my hair, he forces me to look at him.

"Are you questioning my taste, Tithe?"

"No, Master! This girl knows her Master has impeccable taste. She... she just doesn't see herself as beautiful."

"Then you are questioning my taste," he says and pushes my face forward, inches from the mirror. "The girl you see before you may be simple, but she is not blind."

Master yells at me when I look at him. "Look at her!"

I obey as Master crouches beside me, gazing at my reflection, his face pressed close to my ear.

"Tell her she is beautiful."

I stammer. His fist tightens in my hair. "Tell her. Now."

I look into my own eyes that are already welling with tears. I choke on my words as I say, "You are beautiful."

Master stands. "Again."

"You are..." Behind my reflection, I watch as Thirty-Seven's green silk dress slips from her shoulders and falls to the floor. Her full breasts are flushed and crowned with nipples as pink as I had imagined. She, too, is hairless, but wears no rings like mine. "Beautiful."

Thirty-Seven kneels behind me, her legs just outside of mine. Her hands cup my breasts, causing my bells to jingle. She smooths the hair away from my neck and softly kisses it.

"Again," Master says.

I watch her slowly lick my neck in the mirror, working her way up, flipping my earlobe with her tongue as her sunburst eyes dance with fire. "You... You are-"

"Not to her!" Master grabs my chin and straightens my neck. He taps against my reflection in the mirror. "To her."

I shudder as Thirty-Seven's teeth clench down on my earlobe, but keep my eyes focused on my own reflection even as her hands slip southward. "You are beautiful."

"Better," Master says. He walks away, seating himself on the bed. "Continue."

"You are-" I gasp as Thirty-Seven's finger finds my clitoris. "You are beautiful. You are-"

Suddenly, Thirty-Seven yanks my hair, pulling my face to the side. Her tongue fills my mouth as she gently rubs my clitoris with her other hand, her hips grinding, rubbing herself against the nub of my tail.