Kushiel's Chosen

carpet laid before his chair, dyed a rich crimson. I crossed it obediently, feeling my heart beat faster at laying my welfare in his hands. Truly, there is nothing like the exquisite submission of surrendering one's will to one's patron! I sank down once more to kneel before him, abeyante; a supplicant's pose indeed, that I had learned as a child in the Night Court. It had been a long time indeed since I had knelt to a patron's whim, and the feeling of it was like a homecoming.
    "What do you wish of me?" His voice was harsh, striving to overmaster his uncertainty. I raised my head and met his eyes.
    "My lord," I whispered, not needing to feign nervousness. I must needs guess at his innermost desire, and if I guessed a-wrong, I would fail in Naamah's Service. "My lord, you have been grievously treated by my countrymen, and they fear they have incurred your displeasure. I am here to make amends."
    My words and the tremor in my voice pleased him greatly; like spark to tinder, I saw the eager light of cruelty kindled in his gaze. "You are here, then, to please me?" Severio leaned back in his ivory chair and smiled unkindly, keeping his sandaled feet placed just so, as statues of Tiberian magistrates would have them; one back, one placed afore. "Well, then." He gestured with the fasces bundle. "Rise, then, and let me behold you."
    I stood before his avid gaze, trembling as he measured every inch of me. Pressure beat upon my ears, and I heard from afar the rustling sound of great bronze wings stirring. If Naamah had sent me, my lord Kushiel would have his due. A flush arose on my skin as Severio stared, heat rising in my veins.
    "Disrobe," he said curtly.
    It is a monstrous thing, to find pleasure in such treatment; tears stood in my eyes as I undid my laces and shed my gown, letting it slip from my shoulders and pool at my feet until I stood before him naked. By now he had taken my measure, and his lip curled with scorn as he realized I had, indeed, spoken truly-I pretended nothing.
    ""What do you wish, D'Angeline?" he asked, taunting.
    "To please you, my lord," I murmured.
    Severio Stregazza's eyes gleamed with the knowledge of his power. "Beg me for the privilege," he said, "and I may allow it."
    To my mingled shame and relief, I did, the words coming faltering at first, and then spilling from me in a veritable torrent, until my voice grew thick with desire at my own abasement. I knelt unbidden to kiss his sandal-shod feet; there is a Bhodistani caress called "teasing the eel," a wriggling of the tongue between the toes ...
    "Enough!" Severio's hand closed on my hair, yanking my head upward. "Let us see," he said, breathing heavily, "how repentant your people are." With his free hand, he twitched aside the folds of his Tiberian toga, revealing his engorged and swollen phallus.
    Kneeling between his knees, I performed the languisement upon him, putting the whole of my art into the process. I daresay the young Stregazza had the benefit of his deal, that day; it had been a long time since I had served Naamah, and with lips and tongue and throat, I took him in as the fields drink in rain after a long drought, playing him for all I was worth. Twenty thousand ducats? It was a bargain. His body arched hard as he came to his climax, his hand clamped hard on my neck.
    "Ah!" Severio cried out harshly, thrusting me away, his tangled grip pulling my hair loose from the fillet that bound it. I fell sprawling on the carpet as he caught up the bundle of birch rods. "Do you think I am so easily swayed to mercy?" he demanded.
    "No, my lord." Gasping for breath, I licked my lips, salty with the taste of him. "I sought only to please ..."
    "If you wish to make amends for your folk," he said grimly, slapping the fasces against his palm, "I require somewhat more. Do you say so, still?"
    I stared at the bundle of birch-rods, supple and cruel, smacking against his palm, and my breath came short until I had to close my eyes. "Yes, my lord. Please, my lord."
    "Turn, then, and place your hands behind your neck."
    I did it, shivering, my eyes still shut, gathering up my unbound hair. I heard him draw a long, shuddering breath at the sight of my naked back, my marque in its full glory against my fair skin. I heard the sound of him rising, and the faint swish as he drew back the birch-rods. Even with my eyes closed, I could see the red haze spreading, and behind it Kushiel's face, stern and bronze. The bundled switches cut through the air as he