Mine to Keep

[rinkafic]

Title: Mine to Keep
Fandom: SGA - AU
         Series: Part of the Telpa ‘verse - Sequence 2
Characters: David Parrish, Laura Cadman, J’ahan, OCs
Pairings: David/Laura, David/J’ahan (Brief)
Rating: R
Orientation: Het
Word Count: 7,955

Warnings: Slave fic, panic attacks

Notes: For camshaft22 , even though half her pairing is missing. This got too unwieldy, the next story is gonna fix it, I promise. But I had to tell this story before I could tell the other.

Prompts: 
For the “Chastity Devices” square on my kink_bingo card
For the “Panic Attacks” box on my hc_bingo card

Picks up where Choice left off

The Trainer, Feren, did exactly as he was ordered to do by the Wrin; he took Laura to the Wrin’s chamber and left her with Oosh. In a halting voice, each word obviously painful to utter, he told the black haired, black eyed servant, “Wrin sent… you watch… I guard.” He nudged Laura further into the chamber, pushing her between the shoulder blades so hard that she stumbled forward a few steps. He stepped outside and closed the double doors as he went away.

Knowing better than to amend the order and tell the woman glaring at her with distaste what the Wrin had actually said about no one speaking to or touching her, she kept her mouth shut.

Laura knew immediately that she had been better off down in the training room, strapped to the cross. The Wrin’s personal servant looked her up and down, sneered, and grabbed her by the elbow. Her sharp nails dug into Laura’s skin, and she dragged her across the tiled floor to a curtained antechamber. She shoved her between the curtains, and as her hand released, Oosh’s sharp nails dragged across Laura’s pale skin, leaving five jagged and bloody scratches. She fell to the floor, hitting her hip and the arm she put out to catch herself painfully on the hard tile.

“Ugly thing.” Oosh spat at Laura’s feet. “Mark of the fanged one.” She pointed at Laura’s reddish-gold hair and spat again while circling her fingers in a warding against evil sign. “Why the Wrin would defile his personal chambers with sin-spawn such as you, I do not know.”

It was useless to argue. On her homeworld, her coloring and freckles were not very unusual. Here, they upset people. She had heard that the allied worlds had different standards of beauty, but had not experienced the extremes of those measures until she had been taken from the battlefield and processed through the system to the pens. Laura shoved aside the sad little thought that here her beautiful and vivacious mother would have been looked at as a sinful and wicked creature, merely because of her coloring.

“Stay there, sin-spawn.” Oosh pointed at the floor and made the circled finger sign again.

Laura sat up, rubbing at the pain on her hip as she looked around the small antechamber. There was a long, low settee, covered in a soft brown suede along one curtained wall. Large pillows in colorful fabrics were stacked in the corner. She saw a folded blanket beneath one corner of the settee and a basket beside it. Curious, and bored, she leaned over and tugged the corner of the basket out and peeked in. A hairbrush, toothbrush and small mirror were atop a few folded garments. She pushed the basket back into place, before she got caught snooping.

The slap of sandals on the tile warned her of Oosh’s return. The curtains parted and Oosh stood just inside and tossed garments and a hairbrush at her. “Get out of those rags from the pens, they offend. Put up that mess on your head and cover it, it offends. Use these, they were Drava’s.” Raising her hand, Oosh hurled first one, then another sandal at Laura, catching her hard in the stomach with each shoe. She had good aim; they both landed in the same spot.

“Will Drava be offended?” Laura collected the scattered brush, shoes and clothing.

Oosh laughed cruelly. “Drava cares for nothing anymore. Sran Phil saw to that.” With what appeared to be a new form of parting between them, Oosh made the circle finger sign and spun away. Sran Phil must be the brother of the Wrin. How cruel was this house she had landed in?

In the morning, before being sent here to Bardero Parr’ish from the pens, Laura had been scrubbed roughly from head to foot with a harsh soap. The bath had helped to clear her mind of the drugs that had been fed to her since being herded from the side of the battlefield after making her choice of the pens. The skirt and tunic she had been dressed in were really no more than rags, a concession to modesty more than practical attire; she gladly traded them for the clothing Oosh had hurled at her.

She pulled the green tunic over her arms and tied the front closed at the center bottom. It was soft, softer than she would have expected for a telpa’s garb. The sleeves reached to her elbows and the neckline was wide and tapered to where the tie was. The top offered her no support for her breasts. She picked up the other three pieces of green fabric Oosh had tossed, and figured out after a bit of turning and twisting that the widest piece was a skirt, meant to wrap around her and tie up with one of the other strips. After fastening the skirt into place in a manner she hoped would hold securely, she brushed out her long hair, plaited it into two and criss-crossed the plaits atop her head. She used the last piece of green fabric to wrap her hair and bind the plaits into place. That, at least, she knew would hold, she had worn her hair in a similar fashion when she had done laundry or scullery duties at the prayer house. The leather sandals were a little large, but the straps would keep them from falling off her feet. They were practically new, telling Laura that the unfortunate Drava had not had time to wear the imprints of her feet into the leather.

The simple task she had been given complete; she folded the rags from the pen and set them aside. She sat with her legs crossed over each other, her wrists resting on her knees in a traditional position of prayer. She closed her eyes and silently said the Fifth, Eighth and Twenty-first Recitations of Xepha, offering them up in thanks for her life, for deliverance from death on the battlefield and thanks for a roof over her head.

Prayers said out of boredom were prayers not worth saying, in the words of the First Speaker of the Prayer House, and so Laura stopped at three honestly motivated recitations. After a long time spent in silence, she was considering a recitation for the fallen when she heard the flip-flap of Oosh’s sandals.

“This is not a suitable position, sin-spawn. You show any that might look at you that which belongs to the Wrin.” Oosh came forward, snatched up the hairbrush from the floor beside Laura, and slapped her hard across the face with it. “This is Bardero Parr’ish, not a brothel for you to show your wares!” Oosh hit her across the other cheek, this time with the bristle side of the brush. She kicked Laura’s stomach as well when she stayed down on the tile where she had sprawled, catching her in the spot where the welts from the sandals were.

Yes, she had been better off on the cross. At least the Wrin’s hands had been gentle when he had examined her, and there had been no hatred and disgust in his eyes when he looked at her. She might be his property, but she was not his enemy. This woman had hatred for her.

Laura began to shake, breaking out in a sweat. She could hear her heat thumping in her ears. She groaned; this could not be happening. Not now, with this vile woman standing over her, watching. This was not the safe prayer house where a priestess would come and wipe her brow and rub her back until she was calm again.

She froze in place, fear making her unable to move. She gulped, trying to catch her breath.

“Vah!” Oosh hissed at her. Unsure how to respond, Laura stayed down, and avoided meeting the other woman’s eyes. “I said, Vah, sin-spawn!” Oosh kicked her, twice, catching her upper thigh on the first and the tender area between her thighs with the second. When Laura let out a pained yelp, Oosh kicked her again, her sandal biting across the unprotected flesh of Laura’s private parts. Laura curled her knees up, trying to protect herself from the beating. Her chest hurt, and she could barely breathe.

Centran Lorne had told them in hurried orders as they were being gathered up to be taken to the pens that it was best to submit and take the lighter punishment. The more resistance a telpa gave, the more rage they incurred, the worse the punishment. Laura was not certain how far Oosh’s authority went; she did not know what pulling away might provoke the woman to do. The Wrin had threatened her with great pain and death for displeasing him. Would this woman run to him and report her if she cried out and begged for mercy?

The brush landed across her thighs as the woman spewed what were certainly insults at her in a strange tongue. Laura held her arms around her knees and chanted the First Recitation over and over and over in her head, begging Xepha to help her.

“What goes here?” A sharp and angry voice demanded. The blows stopped falling at the first word. On the third there was a very loud slap of skin on skin followed by a muffled ‘woof’ as a body hit the curtained wall.

Still hunched over on the floor, remembering the Centran’s orders to stay down, Laura identified the Wrin’s voice as he barked, “I ordered her fed and clothed, she was not to be touched.”

“Feran did not tell me, Wrin. I did not know of your words, Wrin Parr’ish. Forgive me, Wrin,” Oosh babbled.

“Your ignorance of the order does not matter. You dare to discipline in my Bardero? You, an untrained house telpa?” Laura lifted her head to peek and saw Wrin Parr’ish drag Oosh up by her hair and catch her by the back of the neck with one hand, giving her a shake. Oosh let out a scream as he belted her across the face with his free hand.

“FEREN!” The Wrin bellowed for the guard. Feren appeared between the curtains, and an odd look of satisfaction crossed his face as he saw Oosh dangling in the Wrin’s grip, with her toes barely touching the floor. “You will take this one to the cells. Chain her to the wall. Give her ten lashes with the split lash for hubris and insolence.” He hurled Oosh at Feren, who caught and held both her wrists over her head easily in one large hand. The Wrin moved towards Laura and hissed at Feren, “Hold a moment, there may be more to the punishment.”

The Wrin knelt beside Laura, “Breathe, Laura, you are holding your breath, let it out and take another.” As she tried to do as he ordered, his hands moved to pull her arms from around her knees. “Let me see you.” She slowly let her knees down and rolled over towards him. His hands grazed over the hot welts on her belly and on her cheek. He started to pull her up into a sitting position and she let out a pained yelp. He looked at the beige tile beneath her and saw streaks of blood. His lips twisted and he gently forced her knees apart and bent to look between her thighs.

He turned to Oosh and Feren. “You dare to mark my property? Twenty lashes. And brand her, a chest mark, since she likes marking others so well, see how she likes it. Take her away, before my anger costs the Bardero a trained house wench. You would do well to keep out of my sight for the rest of your existence, Oosh.”

Feren dragged Oosh away, crying and babbling her apologies and pleas for mercy. The Wrin ignored her. “I do not ask much, just a little common sense. When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Do you understand that, Little Priestess?”

“Yes, Wrin Parr’ish,” Laura whispered, wincing as his fingers brushed over her abused sex.  He picked up the skirt she had worn here from the pen and pressed it between her thighs. He was examining her again, running his hands over her as he searched for injuries not apparent to the eye. Breathe, Laura. Your heart flutters like a little mouse. No one will hurt you anymore. Shh.” He rubbed her arms and her back as she hunched forward clenching her stomach, keeping up the soothing motion until she felt her breath evening out.

He stood and then bent, scooping her up and carrying her over to the settee and placing her on the cushion. “Remain here. Don’t tense up again, stay as I put you.” He turned and left the antechamber; kicking aside the discarded hairbrush and the tunic from the pens that had been in his path. His boot heels clicked on the tile as he walked away.

Afraid to disobey and incur the already agitated Wrin’s displeasure, Laura stayed where she was. After a time, she heard the murmur of voices and there was a slapping of sandaled feet and the click of the Wrin’s boot heels, and the curtains parted. A chubby, blonde haired female with a round and pleasant face appeared. She looked at Laura and clucked her tongue. “Oh, what did that nasty Oosh do? Always knew she’d cross the line one day, always knew.”

“That will be enough commentary, Mual. The girl is marked, cut and sore.”

Mual gave a nod, and seemed unconcerned at the Wrin’s correction. She moved to Laura’s side and set a basket down on the floor. “Poor girl can’t help if she’s god-marked, now can she?” She traced a finger over Laura’s freckled nose and fingered her hair where it peeked out from under the wrappings. “The gods marked them so we know to leave them to the god’s hands. People justice is people justice, and god justice is god justice, Oosh don’t have any cause to be meting out either, I think.”

The Wrin was standing to the side, his chin propped up in one hand while the other absently fingered the timepiece dangling from a chain on his chest. He was clad in the tunic and trousers he had stripped down to the training room, and had not donned his formal over-robe again. His eyes met Laura’s and he shrugged and commented as Mual rambled on, “Sometimes, even a beating won’t help still the chatty ones. She has good hands, let her sooth you.”

Her fingertips were tender as Mual stroked cooling salve over the welts on Laura’s belly. When Laura resisted the hands that tried to pry her legs apart, the Wrin said, “She has my permission and my supervision, telpa.” Blushing as bright as her hair, Laura spread her thighs and Mual pulled the bunched up skirt away. She closed her eyes and tried not the think about the fact that two people were staring at the part of her body no one had ever looked upon before she came here. Before the Wrin had done his examination today, she had never had any hand other than her own touch there. She had known this would come, as part of being a body telpa, but it did not change her natural modesty or her embarrassment.

“So sweetly innocent.” The Wrin had moved over to stand beside Mual and his knuckles stroked over her nose and across her lips. Was he deliberately distracting her from the strange fingers cleaning her private parts and slicking her up with more salve?

Mual grunted as she struggled to her feet. “I am finished, Wrin. New Girl is lucky; the edge of naughty Oosh’s sandal could have done much more damage, it is but a scratch.”

“Do you feel better, Little Priestess?”

Laura opened her eyes and saw both of them staring down at her expectantly. “Yes, Wrin, it does not burn as much now.”

“Good, Mual. Collect your token. Laura, give Mual a token for her kindness.”

Not entirely sure of what to do, Laura sat up and looked at Mual. Mual laughed heartily. “Oh, Wrin, you are so wicked. New Girl does not know your ways yet. You may hug me, New Girl, I like to be hugged.”

Laura smiled and threw her arms around the woman’s ample waist and squeezed, pressing the less sore and non-salve coated cheek to the woman’s belly. Mual stroked a hand over her bound hair. “Poor child cannot help being god-marked.” She stepped back as Laura dropped her arms away.

The Wrin gestured with two fingers towards the exit. “You are dismissed. You will not offer any salves to Oosh. If anyone tries to order you, send them to me.”

“Yes, Wrin, I will certainly do that. Are you selling naughty Oosh away?”

He rolled his eyes. “You are fishing for information and pushing me to the limits of my tolerance, Mual. It is a very good thing I like you. No, she is being branded; she will stay at the Bardero. She is lucky I did not order the brand put to her cheek.”

“She should not have touched your body telpa without permission.”

“No. She should not have done that.”

Mual backed out of the antechamber.

“What to do with you, Little Priestess?” He stared at her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Regardless of whether I sell your innocence or take it myself, you’ll need training. “Pol.”

She blinked. “I do not understand.”

“Do you know any commands?”

“I know to stay, and to sit and to pray, Wrin Parr’ish.”

He shook his head. “While those have their uses, a body slave has other commands. There should be no thought, no pause. When a command is given, you will follow it without hesitation. I will allow you time to learn the commands and respond in an appropriate manner. Be aware that hesitation might be taken as insolence, slowness in a respond as resistance and failure to obey as a refusal. I tolerate none of these in any telpa. Take off that head rag, it annoys me, let your hair hang.”

“Yes, Wrin.” This was training. Centan Lorne had told them to pay attention and learn quickly. She wondered how he fared, what had happened to the officer that had befriended her at the Wrin’s hands. Had the Wrin been as patient with Lorne? She tugged the rag off and quickly unknotted the plaits and combed her fingers through her hair.

“Pol. It means to sit up if you are reclining, it means to sit back if you are kneeling, back straight, chin forward, resting your hands on your knees. Pol.”

She sat up straight and dropped her hands to her knees.

“Correctly done. What was the command? Say it back to me.”

“Pol, Wrin Parr’ish.”

“During training, you may answer yes or no, you do not have to use my full address, it would become tiresome. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He snapped his fingers, “Rer, it means come, in this case, follow.”

She stood up and followed him out into the master chamber. There were various chairs and other furnishings spread out over luxurious carpets. These were his private chambers, and thus well appointed. He sat in a wide chair and leaned back, resting his hands on the arms and crossing his legs. He pointed to a spot in front of him. “What was the command?”

“Rer.”

“Correct. Sis. It means to pay homage. While it irritates me, my father is partial to this one, be sure you know it. Any command of the DranWrin must be obeyed in Bardero Parr’ish; his orders are the only ones that supercede my own. First, you need to kneel.”

She went onto her knees and waited. He was being very patient with her. She had been warned that some Trainers used physical violence to train telpa. She’d had a brief taste of what might have been at Oosh’s hand. Laura hoped this continued on in the same manner, as it was not too unpleasant. She had made her choice; she could not complain now about her fate, she had to learn how to carry out what was expected of her, if it could be without pain, all for the better.

“My father likes to surprise telpa with Sis, he likes a speedy response. Lean forward until your chest presses the floor. Sis is not correctly done unless your chest is completely down. If you can do that from a kneeling position, that is the best form. If you cannot, then push your legs out from the kneeling and lie flat with your legs stretched all the way out, toes pointed down. Always put forth the best form you can manage. Show me.”

Bending forward, Laura put her arms out and tried to lower herself into position. It pulled on her back, but she was able to go down without spreading flat. She flopped her arms around and twisted her neck, unsure how to position herself. “What do I do with my head and my arms, Wrin?”

He chuckled, she had apparently amused him. “The DranWrin demands your forehead be flat on the floor. He leaned forward in the chair and caught her forearms and pushed them into position. Your arms over your head, folded and tucked close. Some Barderos insist on arms straight out, but my great grandsire grew tired of stepping on the hands of his telpa in Sis and allowed this change.”

“But you can’t hear me if I talk this way, Wrin.”

“Oh, Little Priestess, I do like you, I think I shall have fun with you,” he laughed. “There is no talking allowed unless you are directed to speak. In Sis, even if an answer is demanded of you, you may not speak unless you are released from position. Pol.”

Grateful to be released from the taxing stance, she quickly sat up and rested her hands on her knees.

“Correctly done. Sis.”

She slid back to the floor.

“Pol.”

And up again.

“Correctly done. I prefer that my telpa stay in Pol. Will your knees tolerate the position?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell me, Little Priestess, do you know how to pleasure a man? You may speak freely; I’ve a mind to hear how you turn a phrase.”

She tilted her head and regarded him, not sure if this was a trick or a trap. He was sitting back, casually reclining with one hand playing with the timepiece, the other fingering the fringe of a blanket over the back of the chair. If he meant to spring at her, it would be a sudden change in his entire demeanor. This training was not just about learning commands; it was also for learning to read her Wrin.

“I know of the act that happens between men and women to make babies, this was explained to me. I have seen a boy’s parts, and a girl’s parts and I think I see how they are meant to fit together. Since spending time with soldiers, I have heard that men like to be touched and have a woman’s mouth upon them, though I am unsure of how to do these things, or why they would be pleasurable, Wrin.”

He smiled at her. “Such a true innocent, how do I want to play with you now? Should I leave you ignorant or turn you into an adept while leaving your virginity intact?” He watched her thoughtfully. “The idea of debauching you tempts me greatly; to take you in every way but one, and then what? Do I sell your seal to the highest bidder? Gift it to someone? Take you myself? What to do with you, Little Priestess?”

It did not seem to be a question requiring an answer, so Laura remained silent. Her body was his to do with as he pleased, she no longer had a say in the matter.

His thoughts seemed to be traveling a path similar to hers. “You chose long before the battlefield, didn’t you, Little Priestess? An acolyte, giving up her virtue to the goddess, when was the last time your body was truly your own?” He leaned forward and rested his arms over his knees. “Tell me, do you touch yourself for pleasure?”

She blushed and then nodded quickly.

“Show me.” He leaned back in the chair. This was not anything she had expected. She blushed again.

“It will be such a shame when that stops, when you no longer flush all pink. “I’d forgotten about your injury. We shall save that pleasure for another time.”

He spread his knees apart. “Jaa, it means kneel, here.” He pointed between his legs. She slid over and waited for the next command. He pushed the hair back from her face, tucking the long strands behind her ears. He grasped her chin and tilted her face from side to side. “You’re quite fetching, actually, not a hardship to look on. And your eyes are the right color, at least. You might be worth the risk of breeding on, the hair color and the freckles might not come through, my bloodline is probably strong enough to cover that. I might save you for myself, Little Priestess, if you please me.”

It would be in her best interest to please him. A personal body slave to a Wrin, one day a DranWrin, would have the easiest of lives, as close to freedom as a telpa could ever get. Mothering his children would secure her safety. She would not have to wake in the night in terror, or have her heart freeze in her throat with fear any more. His protection would bring her security. “I wish to please you, Wrin Parr’ish. Teach me how.”

“Scheming little wench, I can see the cogs turning. Oh, yes, you want to please me now, you hope I make brats on you, eh?” He grinned at her and pinched her chin. “I’ve not dipped my cock to the task yet, and I have no intention of doing so any time soon. That would please my father, and I will not give him the pleasure. There’s time enough when he’s in the grave to make heirs. Let Phil spread the seed and think he’s got the advantage. The Bardero is mine; he and his brats can’t have it.”

She tilted her head and listened to the lilt of his voice and smiled at his words. “You do not like your family much, Wrin?”

He tapped her nose. “I do not like my family at all, Little Priestess. Do you know what this Bardero does?”

“No.”

“We Train. Bardero Parrish trains telpa. We buy from the pens and the breeding pits and we train house, field, brothel and body telpa and then we resell them. We take in telpa that other Barderos cannot handle and we re-train them and send them back for a fee. Our Trainers train the Trainers of other Barderos in proper method, tradition and techniques.”

“I have come to the proper Bardero to be taught, it seems.”

Smiling, he stroked her cheek thoughtfully. “Yes, you have. I’ll test your hand now. The next command is Lel. Say it.”

“Lel.”

“There are three parts to Lel. Undo my ties.” He watched her face and she saw him smile as the blush was creeping up her neck.

She hesitantly reached her shaking hands out and untied the sting laces holding his trousers closed. She felt her heart begin to race again as she stared at the bulge beneath the fabric. She took a few rapid breaths, trying to be calm, trying to be brave. It wasn’t working, her throat was closing up. She whimpered as she gasped for breath.

“Ard, stop, hold, Laura.” He caught her hands and began to rub her wrists. His voice was soft as he asked, “Have you had this affliction for a long time?”

Still staring at his crotch, she nodded.

“They sold you to the prayer house because of it, didn’t they?”

Tears began to stream down her face and she nodded again. How did he know? He clucked his tongue and released her wrists. His hands moved beneath her armpits and he hauled her up and pulled her across his lap, into his arms.

“Poor mis-colored thing, you never had a chance.” He rubbed circles on her back and she sobbed and collapsed against him, the first person in years to offer her any kindness. Kindness in the middle of this nightmarish situation was not what she had ever expected, and it made her sob and choke harder.

“Breathe, Laura. You can breathe. It is only in your mind that you cannot. I assure you that you are not choking. Take slow, deep breaths, that’s it, good.” She began to calm again, the panic and fear subsiding.

When she was calmer he asked her, as if he was speaking to a child, “Shall I tell you a story?” He rubbed her back with one hand and her arm with the other. “Do you know how Bardero Parr’ish Trains its Trainers?” She shook her head. “Every Trainer here has had the same training a telpa would receive, it is the tradition. I believe it is why we are so good at what we do.”

“You too?”

“Especially me. My father sent me to the training rooms when I was three, the first time I said no to him and he didn’t like it. I was paddled until I was black and blue and couldn’t sit for days.   After that, I was handed off at every opportunity. I have felt the sting of every tool on the rack, and almost every technique on our books to some degree.”

She sat up and pushed away from him. “I’m calm again, Wrin, thank you for the kindness.”

“I’ll have my token then, Laura.”

“And what is your token of preference, Wrin?”

“A kiss freely given or a proper sucking of my cock. Oh, you do blush so prettily, Laura. I’ll have the kiss, if it is freely given and truly meant.”

She smiled shyly, licked her lips and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and kissing him, she opened her lips over his lower lip and lightly sucked him into her mouth and held his lip there before letting go and pulling back.

He stroked his fingers down her cheek. “So sweet, I hate to ruin you.” He nudged her off his lap and said, “Jaa.” She knelt again.

“Going forward, I will tell you what is to happen. If you feel the fear coming on you, I want you to say my name. That will be our signal from now on, between you and me. I give you my name, and some measure of control with it over this fear you have. Will this help, do you think?”

“Yes, perhaps. But why, Wrin?”

“You are my body slave. Mine. I intend to train you properly to please me. My methods have always been tailored to the individual telpa. Perhaps another time I will explain more. If you feel the fear, my name is David; you have leave to use it in that instance.”

She leaned forward and kissed his lips again. “Thank you.”

“Now, when I tell you Lel, you undo the ties, take out my cock and pay reverence. Breathe, Laura. You pay reverence by… breathe, Laura. You take the head into your mouth and suck... breathe, Laura... just once and then let go.”

When she stared at him stupidly, he said, “Here, give me your finger, you do it like this.” He demonstrated by putting the tip of her finger into his mouth and sucking on it before releasing it. “Proper form is that your eyes are on mine the entire time. I do not like subservience in my personal body slaves. When I want it, I demand it. Others have other requirements for paying reverence, this is mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, David,” she choked out.

He rolled his eyes and grasped her shoulders, rubbing them. “You are going to be the death of me, I can see it now. It is a damned good thing I bought you both; I’ll need Lorne to burn off all the frustration I build up from training you.”

Stroking her hair until she calmed again, he looked into her eyes and said, put your hand in and touch me first, get used to holding. I wanted a virgin, I’ve got a virgin. Have to remember that,” he muttered the last.

She did as she was told, reaching into his trousers and fumbling around until she touched against solid heat. She felt along until she could put her hand around him. It was strange. She looked up to see that his eyes were on her. He didn’t seem cross, so she must be doing it properly. She rubbed her thumb and fingers a little, feeling the way the soft skin under her fingers as she moved them. He made a small noise and shifted in the chair slightly.

“You’re doing fine. Just pull your hand out now. Not so difficult.”

She was fine, she could do this. If she couldn’t do this simple thing, how could she possibly do the things that must be so much more difficult?

She leaned forward, keeping her eyes on his, a she had been instructed. That was easier than looking at the penis in her hand. She glanced to make sure of her aim and then put her mouth around him, sucking slowly as he had done with her finger and then pulling away.

In a strangled voice he said, “Let go now, Laura.” She quickly released him.

“Correctly done. Pol.”

She sat back on her heels and rested her hands on her knees. He stuffed his cock back into his trousers and did up the ties.

“Tomorrow, sixth bell, next session.” He stood up and walked across the room. “Rer.” She jumped to her feet and followed. He opened a door to reveal a bed chamber. “I don’t trust you sleeping anywhere else; you’ll share my bed tonight. I have an idea that will solve the problem of your chasitity, but for now... stay in here. Feren will bring you a meal. If anyone but Feren comes in here, you are under orders to scream your little red head off.”

He turned and strode from the room.

~*~

“Anjenne! Where is J’ahan?” David slammed into the training room.  The training master was not there, but Max was.

“Scullery, as usual, Wrin. Oh, my, I see that the wriggler did not satisfy.” Max answered with a knowing grin from where he stood near a work bench.

David snarled at him. “Look away, Max, for your own good. One more word, one more look, and I’ll bend you over that bench and fuck you raw without lubricant.”

Keeping his eyes on the floor, Max waved in the direction of the kitchens. David listened for it, but his former mentor was wise enough to hold his laughter until he was out of earshot. He found J’ahan stacking and carrying clean dishes.

“J’ahan. Attend me,” David ordered.

The dark haired man nodded and put the dishes aside, following David to one of the small training rooms. J’ahan wasn’t a body telpa, but he enjoyed a rough ride, and David frequently sought him out to burn off frustration.

Patting the padded brace that stood waist high in the center of the room, David ordered, “Ame.”

Surprised at the dropping of all traditions and forms to go straight to Ame, J’ahan blinked his hazel eyes at David, turned around and undid his trousers, and dropped them to the floor. He bent over the brace and grasped the handholds.

David spit on his fingers and rubbed them against J’ahan’s ass. He’d picked J’ahan for this reason, he didn’t need preliminaries or loosening up, he’d be screaming in pleasure immediately, J’ahan liked the pain.

Shoving halfway in with his first thrust, David smiled as J’ahan let out a long low whine. He pushed the rest of the way in and quickly began to move. He was soon pounding roughly and J’ahan was giving him exactly what he needed.

“Please Wrin, harder.”

As he fucked the kitchen telpa, and poured his seed into the willing ass, David thought to himself that he needed to get his pair of new toys trained up properly, and quickly.

~*~

When David returned to his chambers, Laura was sleeping, curled on the side of the mattress. He climbed in beside her and went to sleep. In the morning, he woke alone and found her sitting in the main room, a tray of pastries before her on a low table. She smiled at him as he picked up a pastry and bit into it.

“What should I do until the session, Wrin?”

“Do you read, common?”

“Yes.”

“You will read. I will have books sent up. I’ve decided I do not want you ignorant. I have a plan. You will stay in these chambers until I say otherwise. You will read about how to pleasure a man with your mouth. You will read about taking a man in your ass. After you’ve perfected those skills, we’ll move on to something else.”

“In my…”

“That’s what I said; I don’t want to have to seek out scullery hands in the middle of the night because I’m preserving your seal. I will see you at sixth bell.” He left her staring after him with her mouth agape, hoping he hadn’t just frightened her into another attack of her affliction. The books would help, she’d been better when she knew what to expect.

He trudged down to the leather shop, which had its own outbuilding. The master hailed him when he entered and came to greet him. “Wrin Parr’ish, it has been a long while since you visited. What may we do for you?”

Pulling out a rough sketch, David explained what he wanted.  The master leatherworker stroked his chin and nodded. “Easily done.”

“By sixth bell?”

The old man laughed. “Aye, aye. For you, by sixth bell. How wide? I can make the sides adjustable, but a rough estimate will help.”

David held his hands up and apart.

“Aye. You’ll have it. Been a long time since anyone has asked for such, Wrin, probably not since your grandsire’s time, when I was still an apprentice.”

“Well, it has been a long time since there has been a need.”

~*~

Laura’s jaw dropped as she looked at the drawings in the book the Wrin had ordered delivered to the chamber not long after he left. Her mind was racing as she thought about what he had told her. She’d held his cock in her hand, there was no way it was fitting back there. But she found pictures and descriptions and by the time she was finished reading, she knew that theoretically, it would fit up there, but was certain it was going to hurt, a lot.

Maybe she should just beg him to take her normally. She read about that in the books too, and it didn’t seem nearly as painful in the descriptions. The other way had all sorts of techniques to lessen the pain and make it easier and… she forced herself to breathe.

He arrived just before sixth bell, clad in full robes and hat, which he took off and tossed across the room as soon as he entered. “Hate the hat,” he explained. “Father’s idea.” He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and he dropped it on the floor and took off his robe and draped it over a chair. Clearly, the Wrin was used to servants following in his wake to clean up.

In gray and green tunic and trousers, this time the reverse of what he had been wearing the previous day, he seemed comfortable as he walked towards her. “How was the reading?”

“Informational. Terrifying,” she answered honestly.

He smirked at her. “Someday, but not today. So calm yourself, your ass is safe from me tonight. You’ll just be watching.” He dropped into the same chair he had sat in the night before.

“Get that bag.” She quickly retrieved it and brought it to him.

He pulled out a strange leather and metal object that looked a bit like a belt. “Rer, fet. Fet means stand,” he mumbled distractedly, pointing to the floor in front of him as he looked at the object and moved it around in his hands.

She moved in front of him. He reached around her with part of the belt. “Ven, means spread your legs.” She did so, and he brought another part of the belt thing up between them. He bent his head and she felt his fingers moving on her private parts, her labia, she needed to use the proper terms that she had learned from the book. He pressed something against her, something hard. He gave a grunt of approval and she felt him adjusting the belt that went up her back end.

“Ven!” He snapped when she pressed her legs together momentarily as he pulled back a little. He pulled up on a strap leading to the hard piece between her legs and attached it to the wide belt that was now resting across her hips. He slid a small bolt through the metal loop at the front of her crotch and gave a satisfied nod.

He twirled his finger. “Let me see you walk.”

She took a step and nearly fell as her thighs rubbed the edge of the hard thing he had just strapped between her legs. It took a few steps, but she found a gait that let her walk almost normally without it chafing too much.

“The edges will smooth out with sweat and wear.”

“Wrin, I do not understand.” She stared down at the belt and then looked at him.

He sat back in the chair. “Walk for me some more, it amuses me.” She did, trying to get used to the strange device.

“But what does it do; besides amuse you, Wrin?” She asked plaintively. She stared at him for a moment, then spread her legs and bent over, trying to see what was between her legs. She saw a lot of leather and metal fastened over it with rivets.

“Oh, Little Priestess, you make me happy. I’m glad Lorne begged me to buy you. So long as that is in place, no cock is getting in to break your seal.”

“I have to wear this all the time? How will I make water? How will I bleed when it is the bleeding moon?”

He laughed. “Not all the time, only when you will be out of my sight. Rer, fet.” He waved a hand and beckoned to her. She moved to stand in the place he pointed, a short distance from his chair. He slid forward and knelt in front of her.

“Ven.” She widened her stance. He brought his hands up, running them along the inside of her thighs to rest them at the juncture, just below the hard center of the belt. His thumb came up and stroked across the nubbin of sensitive flesh just above the blocking leather and metal.

He blew a soft breath where his thumb had caressed. “I had the leather master leave you free here. I won’t deny you all pleasure, Laura, just the one, for now.” She began to tremble as he rubbed her between his thumbs.

Her hands went out to steady herself on his shoulders as he did to her what she had only ever done clandestinely, in the dark in her bed. She shuddered and began to whine as he moved faster, switching to one finger.

“You blush so prettily. Is this the way to keep you blushing? Do you flush all over when you reach your pleasure?”

She gasped and her knees buckled. He caught her around the hips with one arm, holding her up. Before she had recovered, he leaned his face in and took her in his mouth, licking and sucking where he had been rubbing before. She crested again, crying out as she jerked against him, and then again as he continued to ravage her with his mouth. One of her hands tangled in his hair and she cried out and fell against him, sliding to land with her legs spread across his knees.

“I won’t deprive you of all pleasures, Laura.” He kissed the top of her head and pushed her off his lap onto the floor as he stood.

“I told you, I have a plan. Did you enjoy taking pleasure, Laura? Be honest with me, I demand it. If you lie to me and I catch you at it, I will beat you.”

She nodded and answered on a sigh, “I liked it, Wrin Parr’ish.”

“You did not like being under Oosh’s hand.”

“No.”

“How would you like to have a rare opportunity, Little Priestess?”

Confused, she shook her head and shrugged. “I do not know, Wrin.”

“Bardero Parr’ish Trains. How would you like to be a Trainer, Little Priestess? Not just any Trainer, but a Virell? An expert in every technique on our books, with skill and knowledge on par with that of a Wrina?”

“That would take many years, Wrin.”

“You are my personal body telpa; I have the time to dedicate to it. It amuses me to think of my Little Virgin Priestess so debauched and more highly trained than the most expensive brothel telpa out there.”

She chewed her lip and considered it. He was offering her a say in what happened to her, another choice. “If I was to say no, Wrin, what would be the alternative?”

“I’ll sell your seal for the highest price I can and watch the taking of it then buy another toy with the proceeds. Then maybe I’ll hold onto you to breed off you, after the DranWrin passes on. Or, I might mate you to some of the house telpa, breed you off them, make some little fire headed telpa to run around here and annoy my father. Hhmmm, that idea has merit.” He stroked his chin and gave her an appraising glance.

“I didn’t say, no, Wrin, I just wondered at my other choice,” she said quickly.

“So, what is it to be, Little Priestess?” He asked after she was silent and chewed her lip for a time.

“I wish to be a Trainer. I wish to have knowledge. If something were to happen to you, knowledge might protect me if I do not have your Bardero to do so. I am tired of being afraid all the time.”

He smiled and crooked a finger at her. “Rer, fet, ven, we’ll take this off and get started.”

She smiled cheekily at him as he knelt before her and started undoing the straps. “Do I not need that to keep my seal safe from your lustful advances, Wrin?”

He stood up and dropped the contraption to the side. “Oh, you aren’t my type, Little Priestess, I prefer men for my pleasure. Your virtue is perfectly safe in my bed.”

When she sputtered and gaped at him, he smirked. “There, you learned something new today. I’m mostly talk. It is going to take a hell of a lot for me to breed on any woman.”

“I have a lot to learn,” Laura whispered.

“Yes. Yes you do,” he agreed and kissed her forehead. Lesson one, lust and desire and power, untangling the three to get to the truth.

The Beginning.