<em>Dreaming...<br/><br/>The heat of the afternoon sun, and the cacophony of voices in multiple languages, hawking wares from jewelry to weapons to slaves, mixed with the spicy scent of perfumes and incense and cooking fires seems so real to Mariska.  It is a dream so vivid that it seems too real, and the worse part is, Mariska knows she is in the one place in all of Faerun where she would not want to be--Calimport. Her apprehension grows when she realizes she isn't sure, as is often the case in dreams, how she had returned to this dreaded place.  But standing in the crowded marketplace, she knows that it doesn't matter.  What does is that she must find a way out, starting with getting out of the throng of people that surrounds her.<br/><br/>Here eyes scan her surroundings, looking for a path out of the crowd.  She catches sight of a narrow side street that leads off between crowded buildings and makes her way toward it, but the crowd impedes her progress, and it seems like it takes an hour to reach the street.  Still, she is almost out of the crowd when she feels a hand on her arm, grabbing her, and yanking her into the side street.  Before she can even cry out or struggle, the man flings her and presses her back up against the wall,  pinning her arms with a strength that overwhelms her own.  She had already known who it was before she could even see his face. Looking up, she meets the eyes of her former lover, Asair Jassan.  He still looks the same, with thick black hair cut close to his scalp, a handsome, angular face, darkened by generations of desert ancestors, and keen black eyes that pierced her and seemed to see all of her most hidden secrets.<br/><br/>"Mariska, my rose, what a pleasant surprise to see you," he says, his voice edged with charm and danger. "Ah, but you do not seem so happy to see me. That's a pity."<br/><br/>Mariska cannot find her voice; a wave of conflicting emotions, not the least of which is fear, washes over her.<br/><br/>Asair leans closer to her, until she can feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. "As lovely as ever," he murmurs. "You've grown up and made a name for yourself, I see, but still..."  He stops speaking and lays a gentle kiss on Mariska's neck.  She is trembling, and although she cannot see it, this causes him to smile.  "Still, in many ways you have not changed."<br/><br/>Mariska  lets out a startled cry when he lets go of her arms and then a second later encircles her with one of his, holding her against him.  He shifts his legs, so that one of hers is trapped between his, and even if she were to struggle, if she got loose, she would merely fall backwards.  She feels the warmth of his body against hers, and her emotions shift.  "Let me go," she says softly, but Asair just chuckles in response.<br/><br/>"I don't think you really want me to, Mariska," he says.  "And truly, I cannot allow that.  I will not allow you to escape me again, even if I have to keep you locked in a cage all the time."  As he speaks, she can feel his hand sliding up underneath her blouse, brushing lightly against her flesh of her stomach,  and then moving higher, until he is touching her breast. Then his fingers find her nipple and pinch it harshly.<br/><br/>Mariska lets out a yelp of pain, but that isn't all she is feeling, as the conflict within her grows. She knows Asair is evil, one who murders innocent people without remorse. But it is this kind of touch, his way of fulfilling desires that she kept hidden from the world and even herself that had made it so hard for her to escape him the first time.  "Let me go!" she says again, this time louder, although not with any more conviction.<br/><br/>Asair smiles. "I don't think that's what you want, my dear,"  he says.  He twists her nipple again, sending a spark of pleasure-pain through her body.  She feels heat growing between her legs.  "No, I don't think it is at all."  His hand slides back downward.  "Let us be certain, shall we?"<br/><br/>He pulls his hand out from underneath her blouse, and begins to pull at the ties of her breeches. She shakes her head. "No!  Please don't Asair!"  He ignores her, and deftly unties the laces. He slides his hands downward now, and Mariska gasps as he begins to gently rub her sex, quickly fanning her growing arousal.<br/><br/>"Your mouth says don't, but your body says otherwise.  I think that you want to be my slave, Mariska."  His hands continue to stroke her, moving against her clitoris until he slips a finger up inside of her. Mariska moans softly, hating herself for giving in so easily.  "Yes, that's it," Asair says gently, encouraging her. "Show me what a little whore you are."<br/><br/>Tears start in Mariska's eyes as her mind screams at her to struggle, but her body refuses to comply. The Asair is touching her is too deliciously good, and she knows he doesn't want him to stop. "Good girl," he says, and he increases the speed of his stroking her.  She moans softly against him, not caring that anyone passing by might see what he was doing to her, and not caring that she had given in to him so easily.  Her body was building toward climax,and it wouldn't take long for Asair to bring her there.</em><br/><br/><br/>Mariska shifts and then sits up suddenly, looking around, feeling disoriented.  The dream is still lingering, and along with it the effect it had on her body.  She runs her hand through her hair, and then glances over in Arioch's direction.<br/><br/>