On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne & Neroon)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Neroon on 10-05-2009, 23:27:23</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>10-05-2009, 23:27:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Coplann sat in his quarters on the eighth floor of the Tower of High Sorcery and frowned.&nbsp; Though he was pleased to have passed the Test and thus gained the status of mage, he was still uncertain about now having his own private quarters.&nbsp; For one thing, he thought as he pulled his red robes tighter around his slim frame, he would mis the cameraderie of the dormitory; these rooms of his were remarkably spacious: a small study, two bedrooms and his own bath chamber.&nbsp; Now here was something he could really appreciate: he would not miss the chance of someone walking in as he bathed one little bit.<br><br>Still, he mused, it was a big area to keep clean.&nbsp; He had heard that some of the elder mages used wraiths as servants, but Coplann had never been fully happy with the company of these undead servitors.&nbsp; He needed a slave, he decided, a nice young lad who'd keep the place tidy and not get underfoot.&nbsp; Well, he thought, now that he had the status, he could go down the the Tower's line up and pick a suitable servant.<br><br>As he left the Tower and walked in the soft light of its grove, he heard sounds in the distance and he headed towards them and what they represented, the line of the latest slaves brought into the Tower's employ.&nbsp; As he caught sight of the line up, however, Coplann lost all thought of getting a boy to serve as his slave.&nbsp; For there, in the middle of the line was a drow maiden who dazzled his eyes.&nbsp; Indeed, before he even realised he was speaking he had addressed the master of the block.<br><br>"Her," Coplann said, pointing at the drow.&nbsp; "I'll take that one."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ilsabet Melarne</strong> on <strong>11-05-2009, 01:18:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fringes of bone-white hair framed the drow woman's chiseled features, offering a stark contrast against the female's ebony skin. Iron slave bands bound her wrists together in front of her and wrapped around her neck, a thin sliver of metal identifying her as a common household servant. A simple, stained beige tunic barely covered the voluptuous curves of her body.<br><br>"<strong>This one?</strong>" the Slaver asked as he jerked the leash tethered to her collar, pulling the woman forward. She stumbled forward, the sudden movement causing her to nearly topple to her knees. A slight flick of her leash, and the drow was pulled up. A feral grin spread wide across the Slaver's face as his putrid nose seemed to bob from the strain of such a maneuver. Talia's own nose twitched in disgust before she quickly averted amber eyes to a spot on the floor in front of her. <br><br>A quick exchange of money ensued before her leash was handed over to her new owner, a red-garbed mage. As the Slaver counted his coins, his fat, bulbous tongue poked out of the center of his mouth, bubbles of saliva pooling at the corners. Content with the knowledge that he hadn't been cheated, the flesh dealer turned away, leaving Talia with her Master.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>11-05-2009, 21:49:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Coplann led the drow into the Tower and navigated the way to his rooms without meeting anyone.&nbsp; Closing the door behind them, he took the bands that bound her wrists in his and sighed.&nbsp; Then, seemingly pulling his attention back to her, he muttered some harshly accented words and squeezed his hands on the metal.&nbsp; As he did so, the black iron grew warm- hot even- and then there was a click and the bonds opened.<br><br>"Ghil zhal tlu dosst delmah dal nin pholor," he said in poorly accented drow and then sighed.&nbsp; "I hope you can speak common, because, with respect, your language is on hell of a jawbreaker."&nbsp; He gestured to the spare bedroom.&nbsp; "There is where you will sleep.&nbsp; I am Coplann and I hope to be a fair master to you.&nbsp; I take it that you are as keen to wash the stench of the slave pit off you as I am to have you more fragrant."&nbsp; He gestured to the bathroom.<br><br>"You can bathe in there and I'll get you a new tunic."&nbsp; He smiled a trifle uncertainly.&nbsp; "Before you bathe, though, you'd better tell me your name."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ilsabet Melarne</strong> on <strong>11-05-2009, 23:11:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She followed his lead as the couple made their way to his rooms. Once inside, amber oculars scanned her surroundings. Nestled against the closest wall of the room was a small table and chairs. Various shelves of books lined the walls. On the far side, a fireplace, the ashes from the previous night still smoldering. Hearing the clicking of the door behind her, Talia turned to face him. <br><br>A curious tilt of her head as she watched him take the bands of her wrists into hers, a softness touching his face before those arcane words were spoken that would release her from her bonds. Slender fingers massaged the her wrists, her eyes fluttering as he spoke to her in her own language, "<strong>Dos, dos telanth Ilythiiri?</strong>" The words scurried past her lips before she'd had the opportunity to clamp her mouth shut. She knew better, slaves simply did not speak out of turn...ever. Bracing herself, her eyes downcast, Talia waited for her punishment and when it did not come, "<strong>Usstan tlun taudl.</strong>" <br><br>When he spoke to her again, it was in Common..and she understood, "<strong>Yes, yes I speak Common.</strong>" She would nod her head as he pointed to the spare bedroom. Peering into the dimly-lit room, Talia spied a small but comfortable looking bed. Much nicer than the straw mats she'd grown accustomed to sleeping on. More shelves, mostly empty, lined the walls of her room. Her ears perked when he made mention of a bath, she knew she needed one but hadn't realized it was so obvious. The drow's eyes followed the path of his pointed finger to the closed door of another room before returning her gaze to his face. Her name. All he wanted in exchange for the soothing comfort of a bath...was her name. "<strong>I am called Talia.</strong>"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>11-05-2009, 23:57:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Coplann ignored her apology- for the time being- and smiled, hopefully reassuringly.&nbsp; He stepped past her and opened the door to the bathroom.&nbsp; As he swept past her, the complex spicy mixed scents of his spell components swirled around her.&nbsp; Cinnamon, marjoram, saltpetre and other stranger scents assailed her nostrils.&nbsp; And then he took her hand and pulled her into the bathroom.<br><br>Inside there was a large, rectangular sunken tub of grey marble and a double walled glass bottle in which a Salamander writhed.&nbsp; Coplann leaned over and turned a tap and water flowed through the space between the two glass walls and the Salamader growled, bursting into flame.&nbsp; The water, heated by the captive fire elemental flowed out into the tub, filling the room with steam.<br><br>"You can use the two taps to adjust the heat of the water entering the bath, Talia," Coplann said, turning the tap off.&nbsp; "Magic does have its advantages, after all."&nbsp; He chuckled and squeezed past her in the doorway, trying hard not to think about her curves and the expanse of skin available to his eyes.&nbsp; "Oh and Talia, please, you must never apologise for speaking to me.&nbsp; I cannot have an aide who will not talk to me when she needs to.&nbsp; How will I know what you need to tell me?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ilsabet Melarne</strong> on <strong>12-05-2009, 18:02:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Moving into the bathroom, Talia turned to smile at Coplann as he closed the door behind him. Deft fingers quickly moved to work the tap, testing the warmth of the waters rushing into the tub. As the water ran, Talia chose one of the bottles of bath oils aligning the edges of the tub and poured a measurable amount into running water before returning the empty bottle to its place. Satisfied, she peeled the tunic from her skin, eddies of dust swirling from the fabric as she tossed it to the floor. The female wrinkled her nose, surprised at the amount of filth embedded into the tunic alone. She, herself, must have been filthier.<br><br>Slipping into the comforting embrace of the waters, Talia twisted the taps off and eased her body to the far wall of the tub. An inhalation, the warm scent of jasmine tickled her nose. "<strong>Uhnn,</strong>" she cooed before submerging herself beneath the watery surface. Moments later, she resurfaced and had begun to diligently scrub the grimy layers of filth coating her form. <br><br>Freshly clean, she'd blot her skin with a soft cloth before rubbing it vigorously through the waves of silver tresses cascading down her backside. Donning the fresh tunic Coplann had set on a shelf, she smoothed the wrinkles before running her hands through her hair, working out the tangles. She turned to clean up the mess she had made, then opened the door and stepped out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>12-05-2009, 20:52:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Coplann was seated at his desk, tackling some paperwork.&nbsp; He was filling in the various requisition forms required for Talia's clothing and feeding.&nbsp; While he was allowed a slave, he did have a formidable mountain of paperwork to complete to cover all the little details.&nbsp; With a flourish, he signed the last one and deposited them both in the chute to be delivered to their respective recipients.&nbsp; Almost immediately, the chute delivered a reply.<br><br>"Coplann," it began, "Your request to own a slave has been accepted, however it would be advisable- in the future- to submit your requests before making the requisite requisitions.&nbsp; Please be advised that a slave is a definite responsibility and you will be responsible for her conduct.&nbsp; Remember, it would not sit well for your standing in the Tower if it were to be discovered that you were ill-using your slave.&nbsp; Please remember the guidelines you were given when you passed your Test."<br><br>Coplann frowned and made an effort to recall the guidelines.&nbsp; And then, as he remembered the details, he groaned.&nbsp; No fraternisation.&nbsp; That was not good.&nbsp; Why did he have to pick such a damned attractive slave?&nbsp; He was going to pay for that momentary indulgence of his hormones with a future filled with unfulfilled sexual tension.<br><br>It was at that moment, that Talia walked out from the bathroom, wearing her new tunic and still a little moist from her ablutions.&nbsp; If she had induced a momentary hormonal misstep in him at the slave line, Coplann realised that now, his hormones would, most likely cause him to not just misstep but trip over completely, most likely over that no fraternisation rule.<br><br>"Did you enjoy the bath?" he asked, glad that the desk hid the bulge in his robes.&nbsp; It would hardly look professional for him to lecherously look at her already.&nbsp; The way the slaver had done so was bad enough, he'd not want her to cast him in the same light as that man.&nbsp; After all, he'd have to trust her with his stuff while he was out.&nbsp; A pissed off slave was often one that was (deliberately) careless with her master's belongings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ilsabet Melarne</strong> on <strong>12-05-2009, 23:04:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Talia stood in the doorway, a smile spread evenly across her face. She wasn't an overly beautiful specimen of her race, but the chiseled features of her face cast an elegant, graceful aura about her. Full lips that held a pout, even as she smiled, parted slightly to answer him, "<strong>Yes, I did. Very much so. Thank you, Master,</strong>" her voice, husky, yet musical, almost eloquent. <br><br>The simple tunic she wore was much smaller than the previous one she owned, but at least it was cleaner. Barely covering her shoulders, the tunic cinched in at her bust line, accentuating her already ample bosom, then hung loosely just below her hips revealing long, slender legs. Her skin, like polished ebony, freshly scrubbed now seemed to glow a healthy sheen. Silver locks draped well beyond her shoulders, the tips curling at the small of her back. Sylph-like fingers stroked her hair back, pulling the pony tail taut before tying a knot, brushing the ends across the front of one side. <br><br>Moving closer to Coplann's reclined form, she motioned to the rest of the rooms. "<strong>What...where would you like me to begin, Master?</strong>" <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: On Top of His Tower (Ilsabet Melarne &amp; Neroon)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Neroon</strong> on <strong>15-05-2009, 20:34:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Why, oh why, Coplann asked himself, did slave tunics have to be so damn revealing?&nbsp; He tried to find a safe place where he could rest his eyes but it was not easy.&nbsp; Indeed he told himself that he was in for a very hard time indeed, thanks to his hormones.&nbsp; Still, she was quite lovely, in an exotic kind of way.&nbsp; Her angular features set off her eyes wonderfully and her silver hair seemed incredibly fine and soft, accentuating the way that her dark skin seemed to glisten on her neck, shoulders, arms, thighs...<br><br>Damn it! Coplann cursed himself, jerking his eyes away from the silken curve of her inner thigh only to encounter the even more inviting curves of her breasts before he finally, desperately, directed them to a decanter of red wine.<br><br>"Begin, Talia?" he asked rhetorically. "You could pour me a goblet of wine and then, well... ummm.... I'm not sure.&nbsp; You see, I've never really owned a slave before, so I'm not entirely sure what I can legitimately ask of you."&nbsp; He frowned, his brows knitting together in thought.&nbsp; "Perhaps you could survey my rooms and draw up a list of suggestions about what needs to be done?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>