tagNonConsent/ReluctancePossessions Ch. 04

Possessions Ch. 04

byTheDragonsMaiden©

Sorry that Chapters 2-3 were so long. They were both over 6,000 words. As requested, I will try to make my chapters a little bit shorter. My goal is going to be between 3,500 -- 4,000 words, so about a page to a page and a half on Lit. Let me know how you like the length of this Chapter!

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Trivalm froze, unsure what to think or do. During their interlude in the bathing chamber, he had completely forgotten about his fellow enslaved Generals. Guilt, an emotion he rarely felt, washed over him in waves. What had the other men been subjected to while he was busy having sex, blissfully ignorant of what was happening to his comrades? How long had they been kneeling on the hard ground while he enjoyed a nice, warm water to soothe his sore muscles?

Ebon, it seemed, didn't care, as he pushed Trivalm farther into the room and closed the door behind them.

"Come here to me, little slave."

Trivalm's gaze snapped to where Sarantha lounged on her bed. Ivory was already crawling onto her lap, settling herself comfortably to have her head stroked, ignoring the golden painted woman who laid near. Trivalm couldn't do anything except stand there, his gaze sliding between the men kneeling on the floor, glaring at him, and his new Mistress. When he didn't move, Ebon gave him a rough nudge.

He didn't need any further instruction, moving forward as if in a daze. Finally, he reached the side of the bed.

"Sit." Once he obeyed, Sarantha leaned forward to stroke his dark hair back. "Do you like your surprise, little slave? Since you've been such a good little slave, I've brought your friends to keep you company."

He stared as she smiled down at him. Gently. Happily. As if she honestly thought that he should be grateful that she was putting him in this position.

When he didn't answer right away, Sarantha tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows rising. That glint entered her eyes, the one that reminded him that as gentle as she was, she had a temper, and very clear expectations of her slaves.

"Yes, Mistress, I like my surprise." He glanced at them, but didn't meet their eyes. "May I speak to them, Mistress?"

She smiled slightly, as if his answer pleased her, as if it brought her joy to have given him a gift that pleased him. "From here, for a moment. Then we are going to play a game." She settled back, petting Ivory in that soothing way of hers.

Trivalm looked to Raikol and Drimelk. "You are well?" He hoped they understood the need for shortness, simple questions and answers. There was a need, right? As accommodating as Sarantha was being, she was still an enemy, his owner. Not a friend. Not to be trusted. Right?

When they simply nodded he let out a sigh of relief.

"Why would they not be well, little slave?" Sarantha sounded genuinely confused. She sat up, her hand stilling on Ivory's head. "Why would they not be cared for? Just because they were punished, does not mean they were not cared for."

"Because we are slaves, war slaves." Trivalm didn't understand why they were being treated so well, and it seemed Sarantha didn't understand why he was suspicious.

Sarantha looked to her brother and sister's slaves. Her eyes held an odd mixture of curiosity and irritation. "And you? Did you expect to be mistreated? What treatment did you expect? You mistreated your slaves before coming here?"

When Raikol seemed unable to answer, Drimelk, with his natural ability with words, spoke for him. "We are slaves, war slaves, nothing more than a physical representation of your country's victory and our country's submission. We are nothing more than a show of power. Yet we eat the same meals as the keepers, are bathed daily, given clean clothes, as much water as we desire, and even comfortable beds. That is not normal."

Sarantha tilted her head, her lips pursing as the curiosity left her gaze, leaving only temper to darken her ice green eyes. "It is normal here. All of the free eat the same food, and most personal slaves too. Though there is an order as to who is served first. Keepers and higher ranked military personnel are first. After that, I don't know. I don't know what the other slaves eat. I honestly don't care. We are done talking. I will not be insulted in such a way."

It was Raikol's turn to speak. It was obvious that he chose his words carefully. "Apologies." There was sincerity in his voice. "We meant no insult. It seems that slaves here are much better cared for than in our own country."

"My slaves are obedient. They are happy. If you are unhappy it is your own doing. Perhaps if you behaved, you wouldn't need to be punished and chained. I even told you to come sit comfortably on my bed! You decided to stay on the cold floor! You chose to make yourselves uncomfortable, then have the audacity to accuse me of being a bad owner because you are a bad slave!" Her voice continued to rise with each word. She paused a moment. Suddenly, the anger melted away, leaving the airy, happy, Sarantha that Trivalm was learning heralded trouble. "We are done talking. It is time to play our game!" She turned to where Ebon had taken his position at the edge of the bed, his gaze, as always, locked on Ivory. "We will need... Six sticks for two teams."

Ebon looked unsure, something that made Trivalm uneasy, but obediently moved to the bookshelf. He pulled a small cup filled with many different sized sticks. He shifted though them before finding three long and three short ones. He obviously knew the type of game or at least how to set up the teams, because he held two of them in his hand, the tops level so they couldn't be told apart. He held his hand out to Ivory, who quickly plucked one out. She held it up to show that she had chosen the shorter one as Ebon handed the longer one to the golden woman.

He held the other four sticks in a similar fashion. Trivalm pulled one, displayed his short stick. Moving to Drimelk and Raikol, Ebon held out his hand. Faces broadcasting their suspicion and confusion, each pulled one out. Drimelk held up his short stick as Raikol held up his longer one. Ebon's face fell as he opened his fist to reveal the last longer stick.

"Hmm. Interesting." Sarantha sounded excited. "Goldie, my Ebon and Raikol verses my Ivory, Trivalm and Drimelk." She settled back. "Hmm... now which game?" She looked down at Ivory's smiling face. "Should we challenge the girls? Or the boys?" She tilted her head as Ivory nuzzled against her, smiling. "The girls, then." She clapped her hands, then shooed her wrists. "Go! Go! Go to your teams!"

Trivalm obeyed without question, just wanting this over. He wanted to talk to the other war slaves, explain to them... what? He didn't know, but he had to explain. His behavior was wrong. He didn't know why, but it was. But was it? He was a slave. He was behaving as a slave. Why did they both look so upset about that? Why couldn't they fall into their roles?

When they stood in two groups, Sarantha gave an apologetic smile. "Apologies. My brother did not give me the key to your shackles. Don't misunderstand, I wouldn't release you anyway. I don't trust either of you, and my brother refuses to allow you potions." She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, but continued before anyone could respond, suddenly perking up again. "Hmm... now for our game! Let's see which of our girls can give her teammates pleasure first. But the men cannot touch the girls at all. If you do, your girl can't touch you again until both men..." Her gaze slid over the men, taking in their physiques, "do ten pushups. She cannot please her teammates in the same way and she may only please one at a time. Questions?"

Trivalm glanced over at the golden painted woman, Goldie as Sarantha called her, standing by Raikol and Ebon. Ebon's gaze was on Ivory, and he did not look happy. He sent one contemptuous look to Drimelk before sliding his gaze back to Ivory. He never even glanced at the woman on his own team.

"We're going to win." Trivalm murmured, quietly enough that he hoped only Drimelk would hear him.

His didn't see the look of confusion and disbelief Drimelk threw at him.

"Ready?" Again, Sarantha did not wait for a response, "Go!"

Before he even realized it, Ivory's hands were at the waist of his pants, sliding them down to reveal his flaccid cock. She showed no hesitation before slipping it between her lips and beginning that magical oral massage that she was so skilled at. Without thought, Trivalm's hands went to her head.

"No, little slave! No touching! Ten pushups, both of you! Hurry!" There was laughter in Sarantha's voice.

Trivalm stepped back, falling to the floor beside Drimelk to do the required exercise. As he did, he glanced over. Ebon's eyes were still on Ivory, a good sign for his team. Raikol laid on the floor, the golden painted woman straddling his hips as she raised and lowered herself, her face showing her appreciation of the slave's size.

It took only a moment for the strong generals to complete such an easy task. As soon as they were back on their feet, Ivory sent him an incensed look, then returned her mouth to his cock. This time he managed to control himself, bringing his hands to rest behind his head to avoid the temptation of touching her again. That skilled mouth made him spill faster than his pride liked.

As soon as the last of his seed was in her belly, Ivory moved over to Drimelk. He looked tense. Trivalm didn't know why though. As far as being slaves went, things could be a lot worse than being watched having sex. Drimelk didn't relax when Ivory guided him onto his back, or when she straddled his hips and lowered her body onto his already erect body.

Curious how the other team was faring, Trivalm looked over and almost laughed. Raikol had redressed and sat on the floor, his forearms resting on his knees, watching Sarantha, a scowl on his normally handsome face. Goldie looked angry. She was on her knees in front of Ebon, whose cock, even though it gleamed with a coat of saliva, remained flaccid. She bent her neck again, taking the organ into her mouth, stoking the large man's thighs as she bobbed her head. It was no use though. Trivalm knew without a doubt that Ebon was in no way attracted to the golden painted woman. His entire focus was on Ivory, and he looked near enraged that she was touching another man. It made Trivalm wonder how often Sarantha was shared. It also made him wonder at Ebon's easy acceptance of Trivalm involvement in the bathing chamber.

A sudden movement and feminine gasp took his attention. He looked to see Drimelk sitting up, his hands clamped on Ivory's waist, keeping her from sinking down on his cock, which appeared to be lined up with her ass. The chain connecting his wrists dug into her pale stomach. There was fear in her eyes. Trivalm instantly realized that the game was at an end; such a sin would not be easily forgiven.

"Slave." There was pure threat in Sarantha's voice. "Release her."

Drimelk was shuddering, his horrified eyes holding Ivory'. He shook his head. "Not that. Please." It was the first time Trivalm or Raikol had ever heard him plead, his normally jovial nature gone.

"Slave!" The word was a hiss on Sarantha's tongue.

Ivory looked unsure as, with hands still trembling, Drimelk released her. She glanced at Sarantha before looking at Ebon. There was the minutest of changes in his expression, but nothing that Sarantha would have been able to notice from the distance she sat at.

When Ivory began to again lower herself over Drimelk, he shook his head, desperately pleading with her. "Please. Please! Not this. Why? Why do you want this? Does it not pain you? Why would you degrade yourself this way? Please, stop!"

Ivory looked confused and sad. She stroked his chest and face, tried to pet his head in the same fashion that Sarantha often pet hers. She made a soft mewing sound of distress. It was obvious that she didn't understand why Drimelk was reluctant, and Trivalm doubted that anyone had ever tried to deny her anything sexual. Well, anyone besides Sarantha or Ebon.

When Ivory's hips slid completely down to cradle in his, Drimelk looked to be at the end of his wits. His face contorted and his hands came up to try to remove Ivory. Everyone in the room, with the exception of Goldie, moved to stop him. Trivalm, being the closet, was the first to reach him, grabbing his wrists to stop their movement.

"Don't. It's ok. Take your pleasure and it will be over. It will feel good." Trivalm whispered the words, needing the other slave to understand without words the precarious position he was in. He had no desire to watch his friend bear the torture he would be forced to endure if he continued to appear a threat to Ivory.

Drimelk lowered his hands, but never took his eyes from Ivory, distress displayed in every tense muscle. "Please. Please. Please." He just kept repeating the word, pleading, begging.

Ivory continued to try to soothe him, her hands gentle on his flushed skin. After a moment she began to bounce on Drimelk's lap, his cock sinking easily into her ass. She mewed happily as helpless pleasure flashed in his eyes.

Suddenly, Raikol was by their side, pushing Trivalm back and sending him a disgusted look. "It's ok, Drimelk. You have no choice. Do as you are told for now. Look at Ivory. She is not in pain. You are not raping her, not degrading her. It will be ok. She will forgive you. She will not hold you responsible for this."

For the first time, Drimelk's eyes left Ivory to meet Raikol's. He shook his head, horror shining through the passion in his eyes.

"Your wife loves you. You will not lose her heart." Raikol sounded so sure that Drimelk had no choice but to believe him.

The slave closed his eyes, laid back, and tried to block everything out. Ivory seemed to brighten as his submission. It took her longer than she would have liked to make Drimelk spill himself. When he did, he shuddered with disgust rather than pleasure.

Ivory quickly climbed off of his lap, darting over to Ebon to throw herself into his arms. Her face held confusion and sorrow as she looked up at the man holding her, soothing her. She honestly didn't seem to understand what was wrong with Drimelk. In her mind, she had done well, brought him to pleasure. She looked so upset as she looked over at the slave who did not enjoy her attentions.

Drimelk sat on the floor, his legs drawn up with his head resting on his knees. He looked distraught. When he finally lifted his head, tears wet his cheeks and his breath was slow and shaky.

Sarantha look speculatively at the six slaves before her. "That was significantly less fun than it was meant to be." She glanced at the door. "I want cake. Cake makes things better." She slid off the bed. "Let's go, little slaves." When none of the slaves besides Goldie moved, Sarantha's eyes grew stormy. "I said move, little slaves."

Slowly, reluctantly, the slaves moved to the door. Evidently, they moved too slowly for Sarantha's liking. A goblet bounced off of Raikol's back, a pillow off of Ebon's and a bracelet off of Trivalm's before they reached the door. When they did, they turned to see Sarantha crouched next to Drimelk, stroking back his hair in a gesture similar to the way she stroked Ivory's, obviously meant to be soothing, speaking too softly for them to hear. Drimelk responded to whatever Sarantha asked. She pursed her lips before speaking again, displeasure written plainly across her face. Drimelk's gaze snapped to hers. Another exchange occurred. He nodded, then stood, helping Sarantha to her feet as well. They moved toward the door.

Trivalm wondered what they had said, but he couldn't guess and Drimelk never raised his eyes.

When they reached the door, Sarantha turned to Goldie, as if just remembering her presence. Sarantha's face was serious, her eyes hard. "Return to your Master. You couldn't complete the simple task to bring a man to pleasure. You will be lucky if I don't inform your owner of your poor performance."

The girl looked terrified as she bolted from the room, Sarantha's glare at her back until she disappeared.

"Now, little slaves, cake!" Sarantha practically glowed with excitement, before turning suddenly serious eyes on Raikol and Drimelk. "But, you will not tell my brother we left this room. When he asks you, and he will, you will not mention it. At all. Ever. Understood?" She didn't wait for an answer, but turned and walked out the door.

If the slaves thought she in any way meant to be sneaky, they were sorely mistaken. She held her head high as she marched past the guards posted outside her door. Both of which conveniently had their heads turned away as she swept past. Not a single guard, servant or slave questioned her. Not even when she walked into the kitchens with five slaves, two of which were chained, trailing behind her. Most just averted their eyes as she walked by.

When they entered the kitchen, Ebon filled four goblets from a pitcher holding water and floating pieces of fruit. He handed one to Sarantha, then to the slaves. Trivalm frowned when there was no goblet for himself or Ebon. Sarantha also noticed, and handed him a filled goblet. The drink was cool and sweet. It shouldn't have surprised the war slaves when they were each handed a generous portion of cake, but it did. How strange was this country that slaves were allowed deserts and treats and the same meals as the Keepers?

Sarantha, who took a smaller piece than the rest were given, finished her cake first, and moved into the pantry, trusting Ebon to stop any misbehavior.

When she was out of sight, Raikol nudged Trivalm to get his attention.

"Hmmm?" Trivalm asked, taking another bite of his cake.

Raikol slid his eyes to where Ebon was sitting feeding Ivory, his own cake untouched. It was clear Raikol didn't trust either of them. Drimelk simply poked at his cake, still not lifting his eyes. Trivalm nearly rolled his eyes.

"He doesn't care. He won't care until Ivory cares and Ivory has cake so she doesn't care. I'm pretty sure as long as you don't tell her no or insult her, she doesn't care." Trivalm recalled Ebon's earlier words. "She is a gentle creature."

Raikol kept his eyes on the oddly colored pair, though his words were snarled to Trivalm. "What the hell is wrong with you??

Trivalm narrowed his eyes. "Nothing is wrong with me. What is wrong with you?"

"We are slaves. Our queen is somewhere in this country being raped and mistreated. Sarantha is psychotic. Her moods change in an instant with no warning. She is just as sadistic as the others, more so even. She is only restrained because of her condition. You're being used as some type of sex toy-"

Trivalm had heard enough. He didn't care for Raikol's tone. "We are slaves because we lost the war. That is our failing. We have no idea where our queen is and there is nothing we can do to free her. Sarantha is not psychotic; she is pregnant. Women carrying child are prone to moods. And she has shown no sadism. Eat your cake. She isn't patient."

Rage was etched into Raikol's features. "Goddess, Trivalm! You really haven't noticed it! You don't see you're being drugged? You heard her say we were only chained because Ehrik wouldn't allow us potions. You didn't notice that your drink is always poured from a different container than ours? You honestly think-"

He wasn't able to finish. Suddenly, without warning, he was pushed to the floor by Ebon. When he tried to rise, Ebon stopped the movement by stepping on the chain connecting Raikol's wrists. The two men glared at each other, contention written clearly in both men's gaze. When Sarantha's footsteps were heard returning, Ebon moved back to a pouting Ivory, and fed her another bite of her cake. Ebon's amazing speed vaguely flittered though Trivalm's mind before he pushed the thought away, uncaring.

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