The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Solaine on 26-04-2009, 10:47:36</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>26-04-2009, 10:47:36</strong>
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				<em>Hosana Meus<br>Fortuna deus<br>Aeterna Teus<br>Mystre, Morte, Sancte Pior<br><br>Fortuna hosana deus<br>Legionus ab comae<br>Fortune fortuna equis<br>Ad pugnatoris in veritae<br>Hossana meus<br>Fortuna dues<br>Protego causa<br>In sanctus<br><br>Aeternus praetor<br>Firmitas semper<br>Coryphaeus<br>Rex Regis universe<br>(Prosay solis hosanna<br>Protego sanctus causa<br>Padre illuminata<br>Gloria in resurrectem<br>Gloria in unum diem)<br><br>Terra tenebrae<br>Telluris malus<br>Quisere pere curiatus<br>Genitor edo<br>In ex domino<br>Patris illuminata<br>Rex Regis universe<br><br>(Prosay solis hosanna<br>Protego sanctus causa<br>Padre illuminata<br>Gloria in resurrectem<br>Padre alluminata<br>Gloria in unum diem)<br><br>Lacrimosa, lacrimosa<br>In ex dominum</em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; --- The Preliator, Globus<br><br><br><br><br><div align="center">~*~*~*~*~*~*~</div><br><br><br>The slavegirl huddling in the shadows heard the thunderous roar of the crowd and shuddered.&nbsp; Her two Selosian guards paid her no attention, continuing their game of dice on the richly-veined marble floor of their not-so-small corner of the great receiving hall of the Colosseum where they patiently awaited the fate of the girl.<br><br>The slave had come a great distance… or at least it seemed so to Persephone, although in truth her journey from the altorium mines just outside the outskirts of the great city of Selosia could have been made in under two days with fewer stops.&nbsp; But the journey, like her life so far, had been strewn with life-changing events that she had never imagined would befall her.&nbsp; She had thought to die at the mines like her parents, withering away&nbsp; from disease as was the fate of so many women who were sent there to sexually service the mine workers.&nbsp; <br><br>But she was considered a second-generation <em><em>caenomia</em></em>, or miner’s child.&nbsp; She had been born to criminals who had been sent to the mines for punishment; her father had been doomed to work in the deathtraps that were the craters from which the famed building material was painfully culled by thousands of prisoners like him, while her mother had been forced to make herself useful by spreading her legs.&nbsp; She had once been beautiful, and her father a tower of strength…but in Persephone’s eighteenth year, the child fully saw what her mother and father had become--- mere shadows of their former selves, worn away by the terrible conditions of the mines.&nbsp; In her father’s case, the dust of the earth in which he dug everyday until the sun set had eaten away at his lungs and most of his innards.&nbsp; When he finally died the most horrible death imaginable to the child, her mother had not been far behind, unable to keep up her will to live even for her daughter.<br><br>Persephone had witnessed her mother’s abandonment when she slit her wrists with shards of broken pottery, and she couldn’t blame her at all.&nbsp; She had thought of doing the same… but something held her back in the land of the living, or barely living.&nbsp; She wasn’t sure what it was.&nbsp; Perhaps it was the fact that her mother had fiercely protected her from being ravaged, carefully hiding the child when men trooped into their sad little hut by the hour... while the silent child could not help watching from behind the ragged curtain that hid her.&nbsp; Somehow, she had managed this for all of Persephone’s life until the child’s existence had been forgotten by everyone else… and the price had been imprisonment in their hut, with the child barely feeling the touch of the scorching sun on her white, nearly transparent skin.&nbsp; <br><br>So Persephone had kept on living, too numb even to grieve.&nbsp; All she knew was that she could not let her mother’s sacrifice go in vain.&nbsp; But for what?&nbsp; &nbsp;She fully expected that she would follow in her mother’s footsteps and become one of the women to be used at the mines.&nbsp; <br><br>But the Retorium of the mines had other plans for her.&nbsp; The moment he saw her--- an almost unearthly pale, slender girl with long, golden hair, a virgin no less, with dazzling beauty in full bud in her body--- he thought to fetch a high price for her at the slave auctions in Selosia’s great Macella, the most notorious of all the markets in the city.&nbsp; So he sent her to Selosia under heavy protection by guards he trusted, or at least feared him enough to keep themselves from touching her.&nbsp; <br><br>He had expected her to summon a tidy profit for himself, and he wasn’t disappointed.&nbsp; She was auctioned off on a day when most of the nobility were looking to add to their households.&nbsp; <br><br>To Persephone, the sounds, sights and smells of the auction managed to prick through her armor of dead emotions to awaken fear.&nbsp; Her life was becoming even more unpredictable, more terrifying… and no one would tell her what was in store for her.&nbsp; &nbsp;She would not ask.&nbsp; She had become a cold statue with a frozen voice, determined to keep her habit of silence that her mother had instilled in her.&nbsp; And that’s how she appeared on the auction block when her rags for clothes were removed to display the goods… a motionless white statue, a blank-faced goddess with a back as straight as a pylor tree… the only tree that could survive in the mines.&nbsp; And when the auctioneer gruffly removed her arm from across firm, pink-tipped breasts, and her hand from the pale gold triangle between shapely thighs, she didn’t struggle, her body stiffening even more in its silk-skinned nakedness.<br><br>Amid a flurry of bidding, she was sold to a man who stood in the galleries on the second level of the Macella.&nbsp; She had no idea who he was, but from the murmurs and whispers, she suspected that he was no ordinary Selosian citizen.&nbsp; Again, she would not ask.&nbsp; She wasn’t even certain they would answer her questions.&nbsp; All she knew was that she could not think of her new future as being any worse than the life at the mines that she had just escaped.&nbsp; <br><br>She could not help the touch of awe that mingled with her fear when she was delivered to a building that was nothing short of a majestic palace.&nbsp; She had not seen anything of its kind in her life.&nbsp; Indeed, all of Selosia --- with its magnificent, inhumanly-scaled architecture, its vast fora with colonnaded plazas and giant statuaries, its massive ampitheaters and circuses, its complex network of paved avenues dotted with fountains and bordered by opulent residences--- made her jaw drop as she was conveyed on a cart through its teeming streets to the Macella.&nbsp; <br><br>She stayed at the palace, in the house of female slaves, for a week.&nbsp; While physically she was cared for by those who managed the slaves—bathed, clothed, fed, and given adequate sleep--- she was not exactly the recipient of kindness.&nbsp; At the end of each work-filled day, sharp words of criticism and censure made her feel more inadequate than she ever had in her life.&nbsp; Perhaps it was her stubborn refusal to speak or answer questions to the point where they thought she was mute, or the fact that she refused to show fear in the face of their intimidation.&nbsp; Whatever it was, she made no efforts at all to endear herself to them.<br><br>And then the day came.&nbsp; She had almost reconciled herself to the menial life of a houseslave, but then she was taken away to the Colosseum.&nbsp; Again, no one would tell her a thing.&nbsp; What did they want with her?&nbsp; She had heard stories from the dozens of others slaves… of young virgins sacrificed, in front of thousands of spectators, to the sun god Zeth during the Ludi Selosia, the main festivals that took place over weeks under the auspices of the Emperor.&nbsp; <br><br>So now she sat on the marbled floor, waiting, her delicate ankles in chains under the semi-transparent, iridescent gown that the palatial slave overseers had made her wear, while her golden tresses were piled in artless curls on top of her head with ringlets escaping to feather against the long, slender column of her neck and around her pale, oval face. <br><br>The more she waited, the more she was convinced, with a nauseated tightening of her stomach, that she was going to be offered to the Sun God.<br><br>Outside the great hall, another ear-splitting cheer shook the ground as the Emperor rose slowly to his feet in his garlanded gallery overlooking the vast arena of the Colosseum.&nbsp; Below him, standing tall in the settling dust, was the lone victor of the bloody contest that had been taking place all afternoon.<br><br><br><br><br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>06-05-2009, 11:15:07</strong>
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				The Selosians were not kind to those who resisted them. The rebellion in Triphtany was the largest in the Empire's history, and having resources to spare and vengeance on their minds, the Senate came up with a creative punishment.<br><br>Every boy too young to grow hair but old enough to swing a stick and walk was given one.<br><br>And marched.<br><br>Every other male in the province - whether babe or elderly - had their bones construct new temples to the goddess of the Dead, Yavia.<br><br><hr><br>Most starved during their march, others learned to forage. Some fell to pestilence, others were made of firmer constitution. Some were the prey of wolves, others learned to be predators. Those who ran were recaptured, and slowly tortured alive for all to see.<br><br>Those that survived were to hold the line against the Rhun. <br><br>Two thousand mostly-starving, half-naked boys against a screaming horde of ten thousand bloodthirsty warriors, archers and all.<br><br>Some of the boys pulled javelins and spears out of their fallen brothers. A rarer few wrested their weapons from the hands of their enemies themselves.<br><br>When the legatus, Gnaeus Helvius, ordered his own archers to fire, their smaller size was, for once, an advantage.<br><br>When the seventh legion slammed into the survivors, eighteen of the boys were still fighting. Six perished from their wounds, and two would from then on be cripples.<br><br>Curious, the legatus chose to adopt the hale survivors into the legion under his personal command. He outfit them with weapons and makeshift armor, and they were given names - if simple ones. Primus Preliator, Secundus Preliator...<br><br>They formed a simple but effective unit, and despite the name, it was Decimus - the youngest - who proved the most capable leader.<br><br><hr><br><em>Idem in me.</em><br><br>Decimus could not recall a time spent in peace with any clarity. His father fell in the fight with the Selosians, and he took up his father's blade after, far from the only child who stalked the night looking for easy prey. The Selosians never imagined - and never learned - that the children who survived did so not because of random chance.<br><br>They had practice.<br><br>The first battle with the Rhun was the harshest, by far. It was the boy's hope - dream - that enough could have survived to be a cohesive unit. More than ten. A thousand could have formed a cohort, a hundred a centuria, but <em>ten</em>.<br><br>What battle could be fought with ten?<br><br>He waited, and thought. And while he waited, he and his brothers did what they understood.<br><br>They distinguished themselves quickly. They were strong for their age, and held every bit of the legendary Triphtanite speed and precision that saw the destruction of the twelfth and fourteenth legions. Effectively becoming Gnaeus Helvius' preatorian guard for the time, they had no official status in his legion. He did not trust them, naturally, but observed and commanded them directly.<br><br>Whom the legate commanded them to kill, Decimus and his brothers saw to their end.<br><br><hr><br>Decimus was in his seventeenth year. His team was frequently used in nighttime raids - as scouts and assassins, they often found creative ways to destabilize entire armies. They set camps ablaze, poisoned wells, and occasionally slew enemy commanders while they slept.<br><br>They were in Verthian territory. At least, so the Verthians would claim.<br><br>"How many fighting men do you think are in that village holds, Decimus?" The legate asked plainly.<br><br>"I do not know, Legatus. Sixty? Eighty?" Decimus never really gave such things much thought - he dealt with tents, not huts. <br><br>"I want every man in that village crippled." He turned, his order issued.<br><br>Decimus blinked. "What of the women?"<br><br>The Legate stopped, smiling at him. "You're a man now. Be creative. Be exceptionally creative and I might have something for you."<br><br>He was going to be a diversion. The Seventh Legion would fight elsewhere - two days ride behind - but Decimus was to strike terror in the heart of enemy territory.<br><br>And so the boy plotted. All of his latent hate, he thought of the cruelest blow imaginable. He remembered what the Selosians did to his mother and sister all too well.<br><br>There were a hundred and four males in the village.&nbsp; After the sentries and nightwatchers were handled, the Preliators split into two teams, moving from hut to hut, rendering the men unconscious. <br><br>Ninety-eight of them would wake to hear the screams of their prized as they were deflowered before their eyes. Decimus and his men would then geld the captured men and sever their arms, torching the stumps. Those that survived had the privilege of spreading the tale.<br><br><hr><br>His team's prowess grew all the more infamous with each village they ravaged. They struck under the New Moon, their vision not so impaired at night as their victims. The Preliators' legend certainly exceeded their prowess.<br><br>When a rebellion was quelled merely on rumor that they were to be dispatched, the Emperor summoned them to Selosia.<br><br>"How old are you, Decimus?"<br><br>"Twenty-one, Emperor."<br><br>"They call you warriors."<br><br>"We are, Emperor."<br><br>"Then show me."<br><br><hr><br>Decimus was the last of his brothers to take the arena individually. Each one was given a different challenge.<br><br>Primus fought his opponent blindfolded.<br><br>Secundus faced two men, unarmed.<br><br>Tertius was given no shield against three.<br><br>Quartius faced, instead of men, lions.<br><br>Quintus was to slay five archers.<br><br>Sextus was forced to fight six with one foot chained to an anchor.<br><br>Septimus was given a mild poison, with barely a minute before he passed out unconscious.<br><br>Octavius faced a pack of eight dogs, trained to work together.<br><br>Nonius faced nine horsemen.<br><br>Decimus faced ten horse archers.<br><br><hr><br>For his weapons, Decimus was permitted two gladius and two daggers. Each of the blades had long since flown from his hands and found their murderous purchase before his hands wrapped around the neck of an assailant. He was fast, and strong, but no less than six arrows grazed his skin by the time a reclaimed dagger found purchase in the final archer's side.<br><br>The crowd's eruptions, Decimus had gotten used to. Emperor Atravan's rise - as much as he internally hated the man - was what drew his attention.<br><br>"Preliator. Helvius tells us that you lead the others, is this true?" His voice rang over the coliseum. <br><br>"It is, Emperor."<br><br>"Selosia's finest warriors, indeed. I believe you are long overdue for your prize, Preliator."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>18-05-2009, 17:00:04</strong>
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				"You are certain he said two thousand strong and they fell in one night under the Preliators' bare hands?"&nbsp; <br><br>"Oh yes, my lady.&nbsp; Pyrinius was very clear about that.&nbsp; Two thousand!"<br><br>Impatient to hear more, Cenara Aurelia Arcanius sat fidgeting as her maid, the Pelagian slave girl Shani, tugged at her young mistress' abundant, glossy auburn hair into a properly fashionable crown of jeweled ringlets atop her head, a style befitting the only daughter of Senator Arcanius, making her long, pale, slender neck seem even more fragile and adding much-needed stature to her height.&nbsp; Large, bright, lively green eyes peered up and through a curtain of&nbsp; silky, chaotic curls into her maid's face.&nbsp; Awe that matched the tone in Shani's voice tinged the expression of what could be seen of her own face.<br><br>"And none of them--- were hurt?"&nbsp; <br><br>"Oh no, my lady.&nbsp; Not a scratch on any of 'em! Pyrinius said they are more than ready to fight in the Colosseum tomorrow."&nbsp; <br><br>Shani paused, waiting for her mistress' reaction.&nbsp; A pleased smirk formed on her lips as Cenara suddenly pushed her hands away, jumped up from her dressing table chair and grabbed her maid's shoulders.&nbsp; <br><br>"What did you say?"&nbsp; <br><br>There was a squeak of disbelief in her voice.&nbsp; She knew the Preliators were in the Acropolis as guests of the Emperor, but to fight in the Colosseum??<br><br>Shani slowly and carefully recounted all that Pyrinius the butcher announced to the kitchen of Senator Arcanius as he made his daily delivery.&nbsp; Emperor Atravan had commanded the Preliators to prove their prowess in the games, and each of them would fight alone in contests of the Emperor's choosing.&nbsp; It was the talk of the entire city at the moment, and there was certain to be a mob of thousands of avid spectators expected to crowd into Selosia's largest and most famous ampitheater the next day.<br><br>"I am going," Cenara declared, excitement sparkling in her eyes.<br><br>Shani's expression faltered, knowing what happened when the headstrong Cenara took it into her head that she wanted something.&nbsp; Senator Arcanius had forbidden his daughter to attend any sort of game in the Colosseum, believing them all to be of the coarsest, crudest, mind-corrupting entertainments and certainly not for his tender, sweet, obedient little Cenara.&nbsp; <br><br>Unfortunately, he did not know his daughter as much as his late wife did.&nbsp; Cenara had long since learned that it was best to let her father believe what he wanted to believe and had done her best not to disillusion him, finding it easy enough to be all that her father wished because it came naturally to her out of love for him.&nbsp; And really, if her father was not so unreasonable about the games, she would be the perfect daughter... but as it happened she was drawn to the games with a reluctant but irresistible fascination.&nbsp; After all, ALL her friends, all the daughters and sons of senators and tribunes and legates and consuls and prefects, attended the games!&nbsp; Was it her fault that her father happened to be one of the very rare few who held odd beliefs about the corrupting influence of such entertainment?<br><br>So Shani found herself enconsced in her mistress' bed very early the next morning, commanded by Cenara to practice her 'sick' voice just in case any of the servants or even her father came to check on her, and threatened with dire consequences if she told on Cenara.&nbsp; The Pelagian girl whined and whimpered a little, but that was to be expected and Cenara reminded her that the punishment from the daughter would be a hundred times worse than anything the father can think of.&nbsp; Fortunately for both, there had been no opportunity to test this threat, at least not yet.<br><br>With Shani buried and snuggled under layers of blankets and coughing pitifully, Cenara slipped out of the villa in a hooded cloak, and under the cloak was a veiled headdress over her distinctively thick, shiny hair.&nbsp; It was still dark, the sun's areola barely lightening the outline of the western hills, when she took one of the litters to the Colosseum and kept the curtains closed just in case.&nbsp; <br><br><br>~~~~<br><br><br>Despite her clandestine trips to the games, Cenara still found the sight of blood and gore nauseated her, but it was getting better now.&nbsp; Perhaps it was the excitement and thrill of finally seeing the legendary Preliators in the flesh... dispelling all doubts that they were NOT mythical creatures that Pyrinius had made up and were very real indeed.&nbsp; Oh yes, quite real...as the mounting pile of bodies and injured in the arena, with voluminous sextarii of blood and guts and severed heads and limbs flying everywhere, could confirm!<br><br>Each Preliator, starting with Primus and his blindfolded victory, whipped the crowd into a growing frenzy of admiration and hero-worship, and perhaps Cenara's fellow spectators thought they were helping the lone warriors out by hurling tomatoes and other soft fruit at their enemies, with Cenara guilty of grabbing a few of the overripe orbs from a passing vendor and tossing them at Sextus' assailants out of sympathy and a few shouted, very unlady-like curses and insults that would have made a Selosian sailor blush.&nbsp; <br><br>But what helped the Preliators the most were the razor-sharp edges and points of their swords, knives and spears... and, perhaps even more lethal, were the limbs that wielded those weapons.&nbsp; When all weapons were lodged into enemy flesh, it was clear that the deadliest of all were the hardened, battle-scarred bodies of the Preliators, each one a fearsome weapon in his own right. <br><br>By the time that Decimus took the arena and utterly shook the Colosseum with his victory, Cenara was too dazed and awed to remember vomiting at the sheer carnage he had left behind.&nbsp; She could only stare at him with large, round green eyes as he stood unvanquished under the Emperor's gallery, her heart pounding with the realization--- this man was not a man, but a god...<br><br><br>~~~~<br><br><br><br><em>"...you are long overdue for your prize, Preliator."</em><br><br>Persephone heard those words as she stood between her guards on the wings of the gallery.&nbsp; Even then, it never occurred to her that she was the prize... not until burly hands grasped her arms firmly and dragged her forward to stand beside a man she numbly concluded was the Emperor.&nbsp; Her slender, perfect form, barely concealed by the diaphanous gown, stood swaying slightly, blue eyes staring down at the man to whom the Emperor was addressing, and wondered if this was the one who had been making the ampitheater thunder and tremble.&nbsp; <br><br>"She is yours, Decimus Preliator... this and more... gold, lands, a residence, citizenship not just for you but for your brothers as well... if you swear allegiance to me, and me alone."&nbsp; Atravan's voice boomed in the arena, certain to be heard not just by Decimus but by the entire assembly.&nbsp; Gasps and murmurs of approval rose up among the crowd, while beside him, the slave girl drew in a soft, sudden intake of breath.&nbsp; "Will you swear, Preliator?"&nbsp; <br><br>Cenara also found herself standing along with everyone else, craning her neck to devour the Preliator with her eyes... and when the slave girl was brought out, a strange sensation she was not familiar with tightened her stomach.&nbsp; <br><br>She held her breath, waiting with the Emperor and all of Selosia for the Preliator's answer.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>16-06-2009, 11:46:04</strong>
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				What gods would hold him to such an oath?<br><br>The thought echoed loudly in his mind, the symbol behind the rape and destruction of his own home. Did the emperor think he forgot?<br><br>Decimus was no fool. He vanquished slaves, today - broken men who had once deserted their empire in its time of 'need'. Many fine warriors served the emperor, and in great numbers. Decimus was but ten.<br><br>"Here, alone..." He called out. "...I cannot speak for my brothers without their assent, but I can speak for myself, and they can choose to join me. I swear to serve you, Emperor, above all other men in this world, or who would call themselves men. I shall be the nightmare that strikes the hearts of your enemies. I so do swear." He bowed, falling to a kneel. The words had come unbidden, naturally. He who had despoiled so many in his short years did not see the loophole he had left for himself, though he felt a strange comfort as the emperor rose and walked forward, smiling.<br><br>"I am pleased. Let the others be brought forth, to echo or recant the words of the one who would lead the finest warriors of Selosia!" He said to thunderous applause, as the men were brought forth. Decimus recited his oath for his men, and they seemed to come to the same recognition he did.<br><br>"Idem in me. I swear to serve the emperor before all men."<br><br>The refrain echoed nine times in total.<br><br>"Then let the warriors claim their prizes." The Emperor proclaimed. And, with a clap, he was gone.<br><br><hr><br>Ushered away and out of sight of the crowds, an officiator explained to the men what the Emperor wished of them. They would each be given a villa at the mouth of the bay, along with funds and advisors to assist them with logistical matters that they had not previously concerned them with.<br><br>Senator Jauis Tiberan recently had the ninth legion stripped from him, and it was the Emperor's will that it be remolded into a terror that rivaled the fifth and seventh legions. <br><br>Atravan expects the three legions to be marching on Sulpania in two years' time.<br><br>"Your prizes will be waiting for you at your villas, preliators. You will not be able to forget the Emperor's expectations of you."<br><br><hr><br>In the fashion that Selosian villas were legendary for, the intent of the ones granted the Preliators was especially clear. They were carved from Senator Tiberan's lands, rich, bountiful, and heavily militarized. They were less villas and more of a city - not quite the rival of Selosia by any means, but they were meant to support the stomachs of ten thousand men on the march.<br><br>Decimus knew, then, that he was out of his league. He was not prepared for this, in any sense of the term - he led a small unit, not a city-state - and the thought of trusting the emperor's advisors made him ill.<br><br>The 'villas' were not quite prepared for their arrival. The finest manor was of course reserved for Decimus, but only three others of any quality currently stood. His men made mock jests about being forced to sleep together under the same roof - if in different beds on different rooms. Decimus made it clear that there would only be one night of luxury - to know the experience.<br><br>He also made it clear to the sycophants growing around him that he expected that chiseled beauty to be sitting on his bed waiting for him when he entered the room.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>23-06-2009, 15:01:15</strong>
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				“… I hear he is commanding the ninth legion taken from Tiberan…”<br><br>“… No! Is that so?&nbsp; From Triphtanite captive to legatus… how exciting!”<br><br>“… He now owns the lands once belonging to Tiberan… and his prize, the Ellonian slave girl, is to be taken there…”<br><br>“… And there is a great feast to celebrate the Emperor’s victories in a few nights… he and all the Preliators are to attend as guests of honor…”<br><br>Cenara’s ears strained to pick up every tidbit of information she could gather from the crowd around her as the Colosseum spat out its congested innards.&nbsp; Her heart pounded deeply, as if the Pelargian drums struck rhythmically during the games still dictated her heartbeat’s pace.&nbsp; What she had seen that day had changed her life drastically… or at least as drastically as a relatively sheltered and moderately spoiled Senator’s daughter would measure as drastic.<br><br>She was determined to meet Decimus Preliator.&nbsp; She would not be able to rest until she did, and she felt certain she knew how it would happen.<br><br>Feeling secure behind her veil and under her hooded cape, her slight, graceful form slipped through the crowd silent and wraith-like, her newly discovered obsession propelling her gliding feet to hurry for home.&nbsp; She had so much to plan and meditate on.&nbsp; <br><br><br>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br><br><br>Persephone had listened to the Emperor and the Preliator speak as if she were not there.&nbsp; And she was not, at least her mind was not.&nbsp; She was many miles away, back at the mines…<br><br><em>She had been only seven, and she had been hiding as bidden in their cramped little closet, behind a ragged curtain.&nbsp; Through its many rips, she could see parts of the scene taking place in the only room of their hut.<br><br>“The bitch is yours for fifteen minutes,” the mine guard said roughly to the shuffling prisoner who had paid a whole two days’ worth of food rations to the guard for time with Persephone’s mother.&nbsp; “If you are not done by then, too bad.”&nbsp; <br><br>Then he left, leaving the prisoner to do things to the silent woman that base hunger would drive a man to do.&nbsp; And Persephone had watched it all, huddling on the dirt floor of the closet, unable to move or make a sound or tear her eyes away or even breathe, arms wrapped around her thin little body for warmth.<br><br>For years she had watched through that curtain… and had learned… and became accustomed to the idea that a woman’s body was for a man’s use.<br></em>&nbsp; <br><br>Now, years later, she sat huddled under the ministrations of two of the villa’s female servants preparing her for the Preliator’s first night with her.&nbsp; His instructions had been clear.&nbsp; His prize from the Emperor must be waiting for him when he took possession of the villa and its environs.<br><br>After a bath suffused with sweetly scented oils, they had dressed her in a white gown… if it can be called that.&nbsp; Mere strips of flimsy fabric barely covered the swell of taut, full breasts, displaying the slight, delicate dimpling of a flat belly and expanses of creamy skin, supple and glowing with perfumed oil.&nbsp; A larger strip of fabric was wrapped carelessly around her hips to drape and brush haphazardly over one long, well-shaped leg, leaving the other bare from the hip down… and hinting at the shadow between her rounded thighs and a smooth, silken mound.&nbsp; This covering that was not a covering was entirely designed to come apart with one tug.&nbsp; They piled her soft, golden hair atop her head into the Selosian style of artless curls and ringlets held together by one clasp which can be similarly removed by one pull.&nbsp; <br><br>The servants chattered excitedly around her as they worked.&nbsp; One of them told her sternly, “Please him well, slave.&nbsp; This man has killed thousands with his bare hands.&nbsp; It will go better with you if you do not anger him.”<br><br>Persephone shivered but remained silent, as usual.&nbsp; They did not have to remind her.&nbsp; She had heard much about the Preliators, especially the one called Decimus… so she knew exactly what she had to do to survive.&nbsp; <br><br>When they were done, they deposited her on the bed of her new master’s chambers to await him.&nbsp; In the style of Selosian opulence, the room was vast and high-ceilinged, the walls adorned by bright, cerulean blue mosaic.&nbsp; Polished, blue-veined marble floors gleamed under islands of soft, vividly dyed rugs from Etruvia, while the few pieces of furniture that were scattered about the room were exquisitely wrought in pylor wood and edged with gold.&nbsp; It was the bed that dominated the room, a large, circular rise in the middle of the chamber, smothered in the rich comfort of luxurious fabrics and a mountain of soft cushions.&nbsp; A transparent privacy curtain was hung all around the bed from its anchor in the domed ceiling, and behind this they put Persephone on the bed and bound her ankles in manacles attached to a long metal chain, the other end of which they secured to the eagle-clawed foot of the bed.<br><br>Then they left her alone to wait.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>07-07-2009, 13:10:44</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Decimus took his time before reaching his appointed manor. He walked along the southern wall, gazing out over the small port and the seemingly infinite expanse of the sea to the east. To the southwest, he could make out the slight haze of Selosia's own forges.<br><br>"From the time the Etruvians held this place." Publius Gratius mentioned, gently tapping his worn foot on a crenelation. "Now it largely serves to protect the villa from storm. Whereas Selosia has the blessing of the gods, we need more mundane means by which to shelter our lands from gale and flood."<br><br>There was no denying it was a magnificent wall. It stood ten men tall at points, stretching up the Vanne river for some miles. It did not define the boundaries of the villa, rather, along its thirty-mile expanse, the villa was nestled to its north along the center.<br><br>"As you can hear-" The elder continued, tapping his staff on the stone, referring to the faint trickle of water beneath them. "-this wall carries your villa's main aqueduct. It is only one way, of course. The villa itself is largely supplied by copper and stone piping, as in all Etruvian and Selosian works." He gestured again, westward. "The Cisterns are an Etruvian construction, built to hedge against the Selosians poisoning the Vanne. Naturally, it did not work, but we have no shortage of water." He chuckled.<br><br>He turned northward. "The northern branch of the aqueduct you can see from here at this height. It supplies your personal manors directly, while traditional leats form the core of your irrigation network. Further to the north, beyond your woodlands, you will find another ditch - it is used to trap and divert the river when the flooding cannot or is not controlled upstream."<br><br>Decimus nodded, continuing his tour. He managed to dismiss most of the sycophants, and the advisers he was assigned had somewhat specific roles. Publius was Tiberan's chief engineer, a type of person that Decimus had never been quite acquainted with.<br><br>He was not sure what that meant. The Emperor's letter seemed to have sound judgment, however.<br><br><em>"Every man you meet - and many women - will have a desire to carve their names. Through your heart - one way or another, through your pockets, through vellum, or through stone. If a man's greatest desire is to build something, you have two worries. One, that it should topple, or two, that other needs go unfulfilled while you satisfy a man who has convinced you that you share a dream."</em><br><br>Vibius Fulvia awaited them as they descended from the wall. He bowed deeply. "The legatus has wished for an accounting?" <br><br>Decimus nodded.<br><br>He wasted little time as Publius walked alongside them in silence, obviously interested in the state of affairs. <br><br>"The most gracious Atravan has supplied your villa with ten thousand aurei. The imperial tax is five hundred and sixty aurei per annum, though again the most gracious Emperor is waiving that until you succeed in your assignment." <br><br>Publius audibly choked at the mention of ten thousand gold coins, but otherwise remained silent.<br><br>Vibius continued. "Tiberan fell drastically into arrears, and amongst other crimes, failed to maintain his legal status as senator. The villa's populace fell some over the past decade, but your fame should restore that without much issue."<br><br>"Our main revenue comes from the export of food and timber. We supply Selosia directly..."<br><br><hr><br>Vibius continued his accounting of the Villa's impressive - at least by Decimus's understanding - resources. <em>How could Tiberan have fallen into arrears?</em><br><br>The main manor was a splendid piece of architecture to behold, even from the outside. Gilded statues of gracious marble and gold adorned the outside, three massive arches leading to the entryway, supporting an impressive balcony atop. <br><br>When he entered, what he might have guessed from the outside became obvious on the inside. Publius took his leave before entering, his own residence not far. He - and his family - were to drink from the same water the legatus did.<br><br>Vibius took note of the Preliator's reaction upon entering. "Tiberan did not fall into arrears for what you see." He said, walking to the east side of the central pool. "He was quite fond of the flesh. He did not even get the chance to despoil them all, even. He bid two thousand aurei on a set of redheaded twins at the same auction your new prize championed, even."<br><br>Decimus raised an eyebrow. "Are they still here?"<br><br>Vibius gestured. "They are in the western manor. I had not thought to have them moved. Shall I?"<br><br>The Preliator shook his head. "The emperor gifted each of the others with two women. They can control themselves." He smiled, then sighed. "I take it most of the adequate servants are not pure, then?"<br><br>Vibius nodded. "You would guess correctly. I can ensure that that changes, but I would advise against casting every used female out. Even if you do not use them, they can be sources of advice on matters of which you have no experience."<br><br>Decimus blinked for a moment, slightly taken aback at the wording. "I see. Obviously, I have no wish to bankrupt my new estate as Tiberan did. I will have to wait for my assignment for that. The remaining advisers are not going to be arriving until the Emperor's feast, yes? In the mean time, I should wish to partake of my spoils."<br><br>Vibius nodded, backing away. "Your room's windows face the rising sun." He points to the stairs. "Directly above you."<br><br><hr><br>Decimus pushed open the grand oaken double doors on his own, bare feet stepping on surprisingly warm marble. He had the conscious at least to take a bath first, not a luxury he was used to.<br><br>He entered wearing a simple, sleeveless tunic, almost in the fashion of a chiton. It offered little in the way of modesty, the tip of his girth poked beneath as he strode.<br><br>A pair of deep scars adorned his left arm and thigh, marring his tanned, slightly olive complexion. A keen eye might observe that they were received through the same blow, the scars lining up perfectly as he walked. He was well-muscled but not grotesquely so, though his height - at nearly a man and a half, his power was little exaggerated. He was shaven - as all proper Soleosian men were - but he allowed his bronze-brown hair to grow long behind him. <br><br>He did not even glance at Persephone at first, despite walking to the bed, instead, his dark brown eyes gazed out the windows, watching the sea's dance at the sunset hidden behind him.<br><br>"There are claims that you are mute. Is that true, Ellonian?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>16-07-2009, 04:07:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The Arcanius villa nestled in a lush grove of alliope trees on the side of a large hill, one of the many bordering and overlooking the city proper toward its western reaches.&nbsp; From the villa’s expansive, elevated terraces, a breathtaking view of the valley stretched as far as the eye could see to the banks of the Vanne.&nbsp; <br><br>The splendours of Selosia’s architectural marvels were the centerpiece of this panorama, rising out of the hub of the city on the central hill, a beacon of thousands of torch-lit pinpoints in the night, alleviating the darkness that stained the sky like a blot of ink spreading out to overwhelm the last bastion of crimson radiance in the west.&nbsp; From this vantage point, it was clear where power lay, and how it stood.&nbsp; The city stood proud and majestic, a haughty, intimidating reminder to its conquered peoples that none had been able to remain standing before Selosia’s might for hundreds of years.<br><br>The private conclave that gathered on the terrace of Senator Arcanius represented a portion of that indomitable might.&nbsp; Friends of Lucius Vitruvius Arcanius, mostly--- Senators and philosophers, and trusted merchants and power brokers of the Empire’s upper castes.&nbsp; Most of them Cenara had known since she was a child, and even remembered being bounced on a knee or three.<br><br>She moved now among them as the gracious hostess she had been trained to be, ensuring that all were continually supplied with wine from the cellars of the villa.&nbsp; Her pale green sheath of a dress clung to her voluptuous, womanly curves, the thin silk flowing with the soft iridescence of moonlit mist around her long slender legs.&nbsp; Her bejeweled, red-gold hair, this time allowed to flow freely over her bare shoulders and down her back in soft glossy waves, shimmered in the light of wall torches liberally dotting the arched entrances leading from the terrace into the villa’s inner courtyard.&nbsp; By choice, she had abandoned her sandals and her feet glided bare on clean, cool, smoothly textured stones as she moved among the guests with a decanter of wine. <br><br>The night was clement, a slight, soothing breeze stirring the riotous vines softening the marbled lines of the terrace balustrade and wafting the piquant, citrus fragrance of the flowering alliope on the hill’s slopes to the guests.<br><br>“My question is, can such a man be controlled?&nbsp; A former rebel, his people and province subjugated… can such a man be trusted to be legate of an entire legion within the empire’s borders?”<br><br>The skeptical tone of Senator Herrenius caught Cenara’s attention, as did the subject of his musings.&nbsp; Her steps slowed a little, then she bent and silently filled another guest’s goblet from the decanter, her ears completely open to every word.<br><br>“The instinct for survival runs strong in him, my friend,” drawled Livius Vedia, one of the foremost merchants in Selosia.&nbsp; “He knows from whence his bread is buttered.&nbsp; And believe me, I am in the bread buttering business.”&nbsp; He grinned.&nbsp; <br><br>Cenara winced at the cynicism in his voice.&nbsp; He was one of the youngest of the group, a man in his early thirties… and had an eye on Cenara for a possible alliance.&nbsp; She was not certain why, for he was personable and charming enough… but she had never liked him.&nbsp; <br><br>“And our Emperor is wise,” Livius continued, taking a sip from his goblet while his eyes strayed for the umpteenth time towards Cenara’s form.&nbsp; “He knows to keep our new legatus surrounded by those who will do the thinking for him.&nbsp; He is not very well educated, after all, from what I hear.&nbsp; A Triphtanite provincial.”&nbsp; He shrugged expressively, as if that ought to explain it.&nbsp; <br><br>Cenara stopped in the act of pouring a guest’s goblet and straightened abruptly.&nbsp; Although early maturity had given her the wisdom to know mostly when to speak, and when not to, among her father’s friends and colleagues, she was still lamentably endowed with an impetuous nature.&nbsp; <br><br>Large green eyes sparkling animatedly, she said sweetly, “A provincial who happened to have saved your life, and the life of every Selosian, by defending Selosia against the barbarian horde!”&nbsp; <br><br>The guests stared at her, while Livius’ eyebrows climbed to his hairline as he regarded Cenara with a faintly supercilious smirk.&nbsp; “Have you also joined the legions of plebeians who fawn on the new legatus, my lady?”<br><br>Her cheeks flushing at his suggestion that her defense of the Preliator was of a plebeian nature, Cenara opened her mouth to retort, but was forestalled. “I would welcome the opportunity to meet the man, and his compatriots,” rumbled Cornelius Flavian.&nbsp; A huge bear of a man in his fifties, few would have guessed that he was a poet with a lyrical soul.&nbsp; “For that reason alone I look forward to the feasts.”&nbsp; He downed the remains of his goblet, grinned and blotted his mouth delicately with a cloth supplied him by a servant who stood inconspicuously ready in the shadows behind him, then he held out his goblet to Cenara with a winning smile up at her from where he reclined on his dais.&nbsp; “And wine, of course.&nbsp; I always look forward to Atravan’s wine.”<br><br>Her temper defused for the time being, Cenara relaxed and affectionately returned the poet’s smile as she filled his goblet, determined to ignore the young patrician snob.&nbsp; <br><br>“I also look forward to attending the feasts,” she said boldly--- knowing her father would hear.<br><br>Senator Arcanius frowned.&nbsp; “Those feasts are NOT suitable for girls of your station.&nbsp; I forbid it.”<br><br>Turning towards her father, Cenara braced herself for a battle, but was helped from a not unexpected quarter.&nbsp; “Ah, Lucius, when are you going to realize your little girl is a woman now?” Cornelius said, shaking his head.&nbsp; “You need to trust her, my friend.&nbsp; If not--- why, I gladly volunteer to be her chaperone for the feasts,” the poet declared expansively.&nbsp; <br><br>Despite the poet’s penchant for wine, Lucius Arcanius did trust him, even with his daughter.&nbsp; He rubbed his jaw for several seconds while Cenara held her breath… then he nodded curtly and pointed a long, bony finger at Cornelius.&nbsp; “You will keep an eye on her.”&nbsp; <br><br>Cornelius winked at Cenara, who did her best not to let her excitement and joy get the better of her and throw herself into Cornelius’ arms for one of his bear hugs.&nbsp; “Oh, she’ll be a good girl for Uncle Cornelius… won’t you, petal?”<br><br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><br><br><div align="center"><strong>~ *~* ~* ~* ~* ~</strong></div><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>The habit of silence had remained with Persephone for so long that she was not entirely certain if she <em>could</em> speak.&nbsp; Her only spoken words had been with her parents, and their death seemed so long ago now… another time, another world… another Persephone.&nbsp; And all she had seen and experienced since leaving the mines had convinced her that there was no need for speaking at all.&nbsp; <br><br>Not speaking had nurtured the habit of listening and learning through her other senses.&nbsp; To her, every sound and scent and sensation she now experienced was wondrous despite her captivity… the faint, sibilant roar of the sea lapping the shore mingling with the music of flowing water in the fountains below the balcony lining the length of the room facing the east… the briny tang of the sea fused with the scent of flowery profusion in the gardens… the sounds of the bustle of servants in the villa… even the clanking of her chains and their cold weight on her delicate ankles as she moved on the bed…and the thunder of her own madly racing heart threatening to drown out all other sounds as she sat huddled on the silken cushions, her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms hugging her bare knees.<br><br>Then there was the sound of the door whisking open, and the entrance of a young god.&nbsp; At least, to Persephone’s fear-induced, heightened awareness, his presence seemed to fill the room with his breathtaking height and almost palpable power.&nbsp; Shrinking back on the bed, her breath seemed to stop at seeing how much bigger he was than she had estimated from the Emperor’s gallery. His bare feet on a marble floor warmed by hot springs under the villa were entirely silent.&nbsp; The lethal grace which had proven him the victor in battle again and again, along with the savage marks of his ascendancy in the shape of battle scars along his arm and thigh, gave him an alarmingly predatory aura as he moved towards the bed.&nbsp; Even the long mane of sun-bronzed hair that flowed down over wide sinewy shoulders and down his back added to the seemingly untamed fierceness of his mien in Persephone’s perception.&nbsp; And there was that glimpse of his member gently swaying under his chiton as he walked… dear gods, she thought faintly, he was enormous…<br><br>Her desire to live was strong… stronger than even she knew.&nbsp; After the first storm of alarm passed, leaving in its wake the thudding of her heart in her bosom and the constriction of her throat that made breathing difficult, she hung on to her newly found will to survive.&nbsp; She would not waste her mother’s sacrifice, she told herself once again.&nbsp; The sooner she can get used to the thought that she was his property, that she needed to please him,&nbsp; the better for her—as the servant girl had warned. <br><br>And did not the owners of property like to inspect their possessions closely?&nbsp; She had learned that lesson well while watching and listening at the slave market. Instead of giving in to her instinct to hide her body, she swallowed her fear and made herself uncurl on the bed, swinging her long, shapely legs over the side as she slowly pulled herself to her feet, her chains clinking as she moved them awkwardly out of the way, until she stood only feet away from him, her entire length available for his perusal… soft, pale, dewy flesh, barely covered by the strips of silk, taut and rosy with health from adequate nourishment and sleep, curves once gaunt and scant now filled out and swelling ripe for the plucking.&nbsp; Her skin glowed with a faint sheen of oil from her bath, the scent of jasmine and rose mixed in with the faint fruity tang of alliope rising from her form.&nbsp; Her entire body from the neck down had been smoothed hairless, every inch unhampered.&nbsp; Oh yes, they had prepared the Preliator’s prize well.<br><br>But to her confusion, the Preliator was not even looking at her.&nbsp; He stood by the bed, the aureole of the sun’s fiery splash across the sky framing his tall, magnificent body, and he seemed lost in his thoughts.&nbsp; This gave time for Persephone to ease her breathing…and to inspect him surreptitiously under her long gold-tipped lashes.&nbsp; <br><br>He wasn’t at all the monster she had envisioned.&nbsp; Far from it.&nbsp; As he stood there contemplating the sea beyond the windows, there was a quality about him that made him seem like the war god himself.&nbsp; But then, she reminded herself that the men who had come into their hut to use her mother had been men who had only a portion of the strength and stature and reputation for violence as this man had.&nbsp; And her transfixed gaze could not help straying again to that prodigious part of him that promised a tortuous deflowering… and caused an unfamiliar, unexpected ache between her thighs at the thought of her virginity being plundered by him.&nbsp; She only hoped she would live through the experience...<br><br>His question surprised her out of her own absorption of him.&nbsp; So he had been told? Was he actually expecting her to answer him?&nbsp; It seemed he was… but could she answer?&nbsp; She had not attempted to speak for so long… only her mother and father had ever heard her voice, and even then they had always told her to keep her voice to a whisper.&nbsp; <br><br>But in her mind, she had already planned to please him… and if he wished to hear her replies to his questions, then that plan included speaking.<br><br>She shifted from one bare foot to another. “I am…”&nbsp; The sound that came out was more like a soft croak, but there was a surprising youthful sweetness in it, like that of a child’s first attempts at recitation.&nbsp; Then she suddenly remembered what a servant had told her, bidding her to bow before her master on their first and every meeting, so she fell to her knees before him, her head bent so that all he would see were the soft golden curls adorning her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper now.&nbsp; “No, my lord, I am not mute.&nbsp; I… have not had… reason to speak… until my new master has commanded me.”<br><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>26-07-2009, 22:56:18</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				He looked down at her for a long while, head turned. <em>The most beautiful girl in all Selosia and the first thing I think of is her value as a spy? What sort of monster have I become?</em> The thought plagued his mind, and his breathing grew quiet. <em>Why not?</em> He nodded to himself, taking a step and turning towards her.<br><br>"Well then." He spoke with a smile. "You will speak only - and ever - to me. Unless you find a need to scream, the only noise you make will be into my shaft. Otherwise, you will speak to me only in whisper."<br><br>Decimus reached his hand down, gripping the string that held his tunic and pulling, letting it fall about his arm and tossing it aside, revealing yet more of his well-muscled physique and another pair of scars - the freshest of which he earned to win her.<br><br>His veined, pulsing girth was not yet fully erect, but already it was thicker than three of his fingers and longer than his considerably-sized hand, still growing a slight bit with every slow beat of his heart, quaking notably each time, his large balls rising and falling in his scrotum as he occasionally tenses. He reached down, cupping the chin of his newest prize gently, forcing her to gaze at a part of him that he expected to get her to know very, very well.<br><br>"I want you to get to know it. Intimately, passionately, more deeply than a wife knows her husband. You will kiss every tiniest portion of its surface, over and over again until you have memorized the touch of every last vein, every last wrinkle and imperfection. I suggest you make good use of your tongue, because - trust me - it is in your own interests to make sure that it is very, very wet." He smiled.<br><br>It did not quite have the same sort of thrill as speaking those words to a virgin newlywed in front of her husband. Still, this slave was beautiful, and she would have a lot of time to become quite skilled - an experience that he had not yet known.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>27-07-2009, 04:02:59</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Persephone dared not look up as the Preliator spoke those words.&nbsp; She had so long been forced to silence that she knew not what consequences there may be for speaking what was on her mind.&nbsp; It felt unnatural... almost wrong.&nbsp; Silence had kept her alive, she reasoned.&nbsp; But how could she refuse the command of her master?<br><br>At his words, resonating from inside that large, powerful chest and reverberating through her mind, she nodded silently in reply.&nbsp; That was already her world --- she had long breathed without words or in whispers…except, this time, her panting breaths would now be wrapped and entangled like a supplicant’s prayers around the war god’s phallic column.&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>Hearing him disrobe and seeing the tunic discarded on the floor, every muscle in her soft body tensed… but she still dared not look up.&nbsp; Only until she felt his strong fingers under her chin, tilting her head back with gentle force, did her eyes lift… and her breath drew in sharply at the sight that met her wide-eyed gaze.&nbsp; Like two does caught in a trap, her blue eyes wildly skittered over his body, taking in the magnificence of his muscled frame, resting questioningly for a moment on the fresh scars… then she stared in trepidation at the massive organ growing before her eyes, so close as to be only breaths away, her jaw already aching at the thought of her mouth wrapped around it…<br><br>She listened to the Preliator speak his commands, her breath coming quickly between her lips, her eyes unable to tear away from the thickening shaft… and she was so close now that he might feel her hot breaths on his large arrowed head as it rose higher and higher… and her mind jumped back to intimate scenes in the hut back at the mines…<br><br><em>She had seen her mother happy so few times that Persephone could not resist watching when her parents were together.&nbsp; Pretending to be asleep on her little couch of rags, she had peeked from under her tattered blanket and watched for hours as her mother pleasured her father.&nbsp; Her mother actually smiled as she knelt between her husband’s legs, her moist lips slowly gliding up and down the thick, erect member while he moaned and tensed and gripped in her hair… and her mother’s relentless milking suckles of her mouth around that straining organ had resulted in such copious wetness that Persephone could still smell the pungency of their sex…</em><br><br>“I—I understand, Master,” she whispered.&nbsp; She was to worship his manhood as her mother had worshipped her father’s.&nbsp; It was a simple command in her mind, and with her memories so vivid, she already knew what she had to do.&nbsp; Hesitantly, she reached up her small hand and wrapped her fingers slowly around his engorged girth with firm and gentle pressure, feeling the smooth, veined texture of that elongated shaft within the tight circle of her soft skin as she began to stroke rhythmically along its formidable length, just as she had seen her mother do to her father.&nbsp; “Shall I—shall I kiss and lick and put you in my mouth now, Master?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>28-07-2009, 23:19:18</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Decimus grinned as he watched her drink in his figure, his hand leaving her chin to gently stroke at her hair. <em>This is new...</em> he thought to himself, smiling appreciatively. Most girls at this point were in tears... which he enjoyed, but the gentle embrace of her touch as she gripped his shaft was unrivaled, causing him to take a quick intake of breath, his shaft pulsing and growing almost a half inch in response. "My pet's hands are very soft, I am pleased." He said, continuing to pet her hair.<br><br>He waited for a time, after she spoke, savoring the feeling of her dry, soft hands on his member, thick veins beating harshly back into the delicate skin of her palms and fingers, large balls tensing and releasing on occasion. "Kiss... and lick..." He said softly. "...but my pet is not to take my shaft into her mouth until I command it." His fingers rested on her ear, gently rubbing them. "...at least until she is familiar with my wishes in this regard." He nodded. He had few doubts that she would learn quickly - possibly within the week.<br><br>He did not let his mind dwell on what that week entailed, instead, focusing on the object of perfection that knelt before him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>29-07-2009, 20:36:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Persephone could not remember the last time she shed tears.&nbsp; If she ever had, she did not remember, or perhaps she chose not to remember what event would have caused her to cry.&nbsp; She had learned that it did no good to cry, as her mother had told her many times after long bouts of weeping.&nbsp; <br><br>At the Preliator’s smile, and as she felt his large heavy hand so gentle on her hair,&nbsp; Persephone’s breath caught again, little warm gusts laboring through her lips so close to that long, throbbing phallus, and his praise of her hands made her heart pound in confusion.&nbsp; <em>No one had ever said that about her hands…or been pleased by such a small thing about her…</em><br><br>Her mouth opened and closed for several moments, her throat unaccustomed to speaking this much, then she managed to form the sounds.&nbsp; “I—I am happy my m-master is p-pleased,” she whispered.<br><br>She watched the Preliator’s face and eyes as he spoke his words of command, rapt to learn.&nbsp; And when his fingers rubbed her ear, she felt another new sensation, so unfamiliar to her body.&nbsp; A shiver of shocked pleasure.&nbsp; <br><br>“Y-yes, Master,” she whispered, breathlessly this time<br><br>Her hand slowed its movement on his shaft, and her eyes drifted down again over his body, taking in his muscular, god-like proportions that rivaled any of the statues she had seen in the Emperor’s courtyard.&nbsp; As equally unaccustomed color seeped into the fragile white contours of her cheeks, she was beginning to notice many details about her master… especially the organ which she cradled in her hand.&nbsp; It was the first time she had ever touched a man’s member… and she found her fingers wanting to explore as she stroked him… the silken skin of her fingertips carefully tracing the thickened veins that pulsated along the smooth curves of his girth… her thumb swirling and massaging around the swelling head.&nbsp; She could not help marveling at the texture and feel of his large organ, how the flesh felt supple and silky and resilient under her hands, and yet its growing stiffness was reinforced by the strength of sword metal.&nbsp; <br><br>She found herself intrigued by the large pouch that swung heavily under his phallic pillar, and her other hand reached up to cup and massage it gently, her fingers fluttering over its textured, swelling surface in her explorations.&nbsp; Then in obedience to his command to kiss and lick, she leaned her head forward and lapped her wet, pink tongue up the long, branch-like vein that pulsed under his shaft, the slow lick ending in moist kisses on the crown.&nbsp; She found his taste surprisingly… pleasant. Thereafter, her warm breath bathed his flesh as her lips and tongue glided up and down his heavy, engorged member in soft, sucking kisses and licks all around it, just as she had seen her mother do to her father.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>03-08-2009, 01:34:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The gentle feel of her hand on his scrotum only soothed them, though they tensed lightly at her grasp. Seeing that she seemed to enjoy the feel of his touch on her ear, he continued, lightly tracing around the back down to her earlobe as he rubbed. <em>Has she never known praise?</em> He thought to himself as he noted her tears. <em>I should dole it out carefully, then...</em> <br><br>Her every lick solidified his shaft more, her every kiss causing it to quake and shudder. He made little noise except for an increased rate of breathing, his fingers never pausing in attending to her ear. "You exist to ensure the happiness of my shaft and scrotum..." He said, lightly petting at her hair. "Pleasing them is to be your world." He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.<br><br>He waited a time, for more of her licks and kisses to sufficiently moisten his girth, before cupping her chin again, smiling gently as he looked into her eyes. "How does that make you feel, my pet?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>03-08-2009, 19:03:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Preliator’s caresses on her ear sent little ripples of pleasure through Persephone’s body, and she was so unused to the delightful sensations that her mind began to swim in a growing trickle of sexual euphoria.&nbsp; She did not know it yet, but the sight of his strong, naked body… of his massive, tumescent shaft swelling and twitching in her hand… and the feel of silken friction as she stroked his intriguingly textured, thickened flesh were coaxing another trickle from between her thighs, and an ache to throb and tighten in a place she had never expected could respond in such a way.<br><br>Feeling and hearing and seeing the Preliator’s powerful chest rise and fall with his breathing, she suddenly knew another sensation--- the genuine desire to please her Master.&nbsp; This time, it had little to do with survival or self-preservation, and everything to do with the smile that curved his lips, the benediction of a god on a quivering supplicant.&nbsp; <br><br>Feel?&nbsp; The Preliator’s question swirled in her mind in confusion.&nbsp; Most of her life, feeling was something suppressed, ignored.&nbsp; But now he was asking her to explore how she felt… and because she could not deny her Master anything, she obeyed, and searched herself for the answer.<br><br>“I… I like the way my Master’s fingers feel on my skin… on my hair,” she whispered after a few moments of thought, her lips sliding wetly down the long column of engorged flesh, her tongue sliding and circling over his skin as her mouth sucked on the curve of his girth, her breath blowing hot and soft over the moistened trail.&nbsp; When she reached the base of the fleshy pillar, her mouth encountered the fascinating texture of his scrotum, and her lips attached themselves to this sac, applying moist, gently suction to the skin as her tongue tasted this part of him.&nbsp; <br><br>“I like the way my Master tastes… and I like how you feel in my hand…”&nbsp; While her lips and tongue were occupied below, the snug circle of her hand had resumed its up and down fondling of his straining shaft.&nbsp; “I—I want to please my Master… do my hands and mouth please you, Master?”&nbsp; Her lips moved up again, gliding on a slick layer of her mouth’s dew, her tongue tracing throbbing veins until she reached the swollen crown, and her mouth formed a small sucking circle over the tip.&nbsp; Another unfamiliar sound escaped her mouth then… a soft purring noise vibrating over his flesh as her mouth lavished caresses on the head of his shaft with new-found enjoyment.&nbsp; “Does my Master wish me to use my mouth more fully?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>06-08-2009, 10:12:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was the sensation of having a woman, but this one... this one was <em>his</em>. He had not really expected it to feel any different. She paid attention to his every vein, worshiping every curve, flex and shudder of his girth.&nbsp; He closed his eyes for a time, savoring the feel of her tongue, her lips, her hands.<br><br>Her whisper.<br><br>He let out another satisfied sigh as her lips played over his sack, enjoying the fresh feel of her tongue there. "Yes, yes they do my pet. Your hands are by far the softest, most delicate I have ever felt..." He enjoyed their cool, soft grace almost as much as her lips. He looked down at her as she made her last query, and he grinned, teasing her.<br><br>He stared into he eyes for a time, letting his hands play over her ears and through her hair gently. "Does my pet <em>want</em> to take her Owner and Master into her mouth?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>07-08-2009, 05:40:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Persephone gave in to the temptation to nuzzle her lips into the palm of his hand by turning her head and rubbing her nose against his skin, instinctively mapping her master’s scents.&nbsp; What had she expected?&nbsp; Perhaps the acrid odor of the blood and sweat and grime of the battlefield or the arena?&nbsp; But he smelled of fresh clean male from his bath---a totally wondrous and unexpected smell to Persephone… and closely linked with his scent was his taste, which her wet, exploring tongue had already familiarized itself with on his thick, heavy shaft and scrotum.&nbsp; <br><br>Softly, perhaps as a kitten would, the tip of her pink tongue brushed against his palm, tasting him there too, then she returned her attention to the swelling crown of the pulsing, twitching member still in her hand, her lips and tongue slowly and moistly sliding around the flaring head.&nbsp; Her hand tightened around his immense girth as she continued her strokes in an experimental rhythm, watching her master’s face to discover what pleased him.&nbsp; The fact that she could barely wrap her small hand around his swollen organ reminded her all too well of her initial fears.<br><br>“My Master… seems too big for my… mouth,” she breathed in a whisper over his wet crown, between damp suckles of her mouth around the slitted tip.&nbsp; “But… yes, Master… I want to feel you in my mouth… for I know it will please you.” <br><br>She knew how well it had pleased her father when her mother had done it to him, so she was eager to do the same to the Preliator, now her Master and Owner.&nbsp; Smiling for the first time with her glistening, plump red lips nibbling around the bulbous head of his shaft, her soft warm mouth at times almost engulfing it, she waited for him to give her the command, mindful of his first one to only lick and kiss until he told her otherwise.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>09-08-2009, 12:09:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He pondered her words internally for a time, gently stroking her cheek as his phallus beat lightly against her skin, enjoying the feel of her nuzzling her face against his hand, testing it with her tongue like...<br><br>...a pet.<br><br>His cock quaked a bit at the touch of her tongue to his palm, reacting to the sensation almost as if she had licked it again... perhaps even more so. It was another new sensation - something he was not expecting, or prepared for. Secundus had recently taken to forcing women to suck off his fingers in front of their men... <br><br>Well, he'd crack no more jokes about that, at least.<br><br>"Does it make my pet happy to please me?" the warrior asked, curious. He held his breath for a moment, thinking to advise her. It's not like he was unused to teeth, however, and watching her learn and act half-bidden was almost as enriching as those perfect, perfect hands.<br><br>"Then yes, my pet, you may."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>10-08-2009, 08:48:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She smiled up at her master, a smile that also shimmered in her eyes. “Yes, Master, it does make me happy to please you.”&nbsp; Her voice, ever a whisper, caressed his shaft along with the stroking licks of her tongue.&nbsp; Then she opened her mouth wider and slowly fed his large, pulsing crown into her wet, prepared mouth, her hand clutching the thick base of his shaft while the other unconsciously braced against his long sinewed thigh.&nbsp; <br><br>Swallowing a man’s phallus, especially as lengthy and prodigious as the Preliator’s, had looked easy enough to a young, innocent Persephone while watching her mother do it many times to other men, not just her father.&nbsp; <br><br>But the doing of it was an entirely different matter. Panic began to rise as he nearly filled the warm, silken recesses of her mouth, the pulsing column of his shaft only beginning to enter through the moist, constricting ring formed by her lips.&nbsp; He was so big and tight inside her mouth, her jaw straining almost to unhinging as she tried to keep her teeth from biting down on him, although she quickly learned to use her tongue to cushion the bottom row of her teeth.&nbsp; Little by little she sucked his thickness in between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, his engorged flesh swelling to tightly fill any open spaces and effectively forming a vacuum sealed by her lips on the veined surface of his member.<br><br>But there seemed to be too much Preliator… and too little of Persephone’s mouth.&nbsp; Tears filled her eyes again as she felt his hard crown nudge the base of her mouth, threatening to make her choke, both her hands now gripping convulsively into the meaty muscles of his thighs. Out of wild instinct she learned to breathe quickly through her nose, although there was nothing she could do about the flow of her saliva that leaked out of her mouth to drip down her smooth chin and down the considerable remaining length of the Preliator’s phallus.<br><br>Perhaps her mother had sought to prepare her child for this, knowing that Persephone would never escape the mines.&nbsp; A distant memory, words of quiet advice that Persephone had not quite understood then but which suddenly seemed clear to her now… <em>“Do not try to tighten your throat… do not even swallow, and let it flow… yes, it will be very wet, but that is all the better for you…”</em><br><br>Persephone shut her eyes tight, and concentrated on relaxing her throat around her master’s tumescent, swelling organ as she sucked him in further into her small mouth, slowly at first until she knew she was not going to gag… and when she felt the phallic head reach as far as it could down her throat, she slid him out slowly, slickly, letting her hot moisture coat him to lubricate his flesh for the next tight pass.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>12-08-2009, 21:37:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He tended to her hair carefully, placing only a gentle pressure on her head as she opened her mouth around him. His engorged phallus beat harshly against her lips, stretching them further than even he typically imagined of her... a visage he never quite got used to, never quite got over. The tightness of her lips and the warm pressure of her tongue only caused his girth to beat harder, stretching her lips even more and forcing her top teeth to scrape along the top of his shaft as she drove downward.<br><br>He winced slightly, but it was nothing he was not used to, and did not wish to spoil her innocence - half-innocence - by teaching her now. He looked down at her with a gentle expression as she waited, his glans only barely past her teeth, while she looked on as if pondering how to make it go further. He let his hand fall to her ear, rubbing it gently while she contemplated, certainly more patient than his quaking penis would seem to be.<br><br>He smiled at the slight look of determination in her as she relaxed, determined to force herself onto his glans, his grip tightening slightly as she squeezed him into her throat, girth stretching again in response to the tightness, fighting against it, pressing outwards even further - against her lips, her throat, her tongue, her teeth. His toes curled, but he made no noise, merely enjoying his new, eager pet aiming to please him as she slowly slid back out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>13-08-2009, 20:45:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her eyes fixed raptly on her master’s face, Persephone let his smile, every nuance of his expression, become her guide on her mouth’s maiden journey around his engorged member, her wet lips memorizing every last vein, every smooth surface, every textured ridge on each tight, stretching foray.&nbsp; Her jaw ached and throbbed, but this discomfort was nothing to what she had experienced at the mines.&nbsp; Survival had given her hardiness and endurance despite her seemingly fragile appearance, and if the circular pressure of her lips around his pulsing, straining flesh meant that smile that seemed to transform his face, then she considered the prize well worth an aching jaw.<br><br>Slowly, she sucked her mouth back down the length of him as far as she thought he could go, her hands relaxing their grip on his thighs as her mouth learned quickly and became more confident.&nbsp; Her fingers returned to fondle his scrotum, rubbing and massaging, while her other hand stroked over the sinewy flesh of his thigh, exploring its powerful length as if it were itself a phallic symbol.&nbsp; <br><br>After the fourth tight, drenched pass of her small mouth up and down her master’s swelling organ, she found that if she tilted her head just so, the angle was perfect for direct penetration further down, taking as much of his flesh even deeper into the hot, constricting tunnel of her mouth and throat past the tightly squeezing ring of the gates of her lips. <br><br>And with confidence came a slight faster rhythm with each passage of his manhood into her virgin mouth, a slow acceleration of noisy, wet, constricting suckles in and out, inhaling and exhaling tumescent flesh with her hot breath, just as she had seen her mother do.&nbsp; She sensed that her master would want his pet to go faster, so her blue eyes strayed continually and attentively to his face to measure how successful she was in pleasuring him.<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>17-08-2009, 13:32:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taking either side of her head into his hands, he gently pressed against the back of her neck as she dove, each time encouraging her to take him a little further than the last, forcing her to pause a bit longer as she neared his base. Every thrust of hers cause him to stretch her lips a bit more, press down on her tongue a bit harder, his beating glans bulging her throat a bit wider, every last vein pounding at whatever flesh it came into contact with.<br><br>Every moment of eye contact only hardened the warrior, and a slight bit of cruelty passed over his eyes, wondering, idly, how much she would trust him. He waited until her exhaling became particularly fierce, timing his grip to prevent her from inhaling anything but his pulsing phallus, drawing her further onto him than she had ever taking, until her nose was buried in the depth of his pubes and her stretched lips kissed the base of his quaking cock, the first trickle of his hot, thick seed beginning to leak down into her throat.<br><br>"My pet may twist her head and pleasure me with her tongue, but she is not to let her lips from kissing the hairs of my groin until I say so, understand?" He did not wait for an answer, but gave a moment before letting go of her head, mentally counting as a large quake of his shaft sent an eruption of his sap down her throat, only increasing with her own convulsions.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>18-08-2009, 13:03:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Oh gods… her master’s member was burying deep, so deep in her mouth… he was so long that it hadn’t seemed possible for her mouth to take all of him inside, but under the control of his hands on her head and with each sliding nudge, each pumping of his turgid shaft deeper and deeper, her wet lips and tongue became pliantly accommodating around his girth, her jaw stretching until the ache was a numbed throbbing, and Persephone learned just how far and deep her contracting throat could tightly embrace his swollen manhood as her nose nuzzled and intimately breathed in his potent male musk, her lips suckling the fleshy pedestal of his phallic column nestled in that shadowy bed of wiry hairs.&nbsp; <br><br>Feeling her throat tickle with that pulse of her master’s seed, she had her first small taste of him as the cream pooled and bathed her throat before draining down, her tongue swirling and lapping sinuously and curiously along the underside of his member to savor his taste.&nbsp; The urge to choke was manageable at first, and she was able to control her breathing, albeit coming rapidly through her nostrils and flowing down to mingle and aerate his seed on its way down her gullet.&nbsp; Her entire world filled now with the dense thicket where his manhood was anchored, her face caressing and petting his hairs, her eyes could not tear themselves away from her new habitation, and she sensed rather than saw his intent to test and teach her… and hearing his command, her breath deepened even more, and she wondered why he would need to admonish her as he did.<br><br>She did not have to wonder for long.&nbsp; With that powerful hot gush flooding her throat, she thought she knew what it was like to drown… and her eyes shut tight as her hands instinctively swept around his sinewy thighs and up to his buttocks, fingers gripping and digging into hard unyielding muscle for something to hold on to in that maelstrom of her master’s seed surging and scorching down her throat, her lips tightening and sucking desperately around his thickness as the overflow seeped out in a silky layer through the seal of her mouth around his flesh, her throat frantically learning to milk and swallow the torrent from his shaft as she clung to him in obedience and resisted the instinct to pull away and gulp down air. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>30-08-2009, 18:50:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Decimus counted off the seconds in silence, her every spasm milking more of his hot sap from his quaking girth. He stroked her hair gently as she convulsed against him, gently rubbing her ears as her grip tightened onto his buttocks. He continued counting to himself, feeling his seed seep from her lips and over his testicles, rising and falling against her chin, her lashing tongue hardening him more.<br><br>He counted to forty, waiting until her quaking turned into a panic, and the pressure of his seed inside of her pushed back against his cock. "Alright, my pet, you may let go." He watched her intently, wanting to savor the visage of his seed splashing over her unblemished face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>31-08-2009, 19:40:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her master’s member slid wetly out of her clenching mouth for what seemed like an eternity, so long was he, each still-hard, pulsing section released through her quivering lips splattering creamy rivulets of his hot seed that she had not been able to swallow across her face, down her smooth chin, around her swollen lips, down the slender column of her neck and down between the soft valley of her heaving breasts. <br><br>As his thick crown left the tense ring of her lips with a moist pop, Persephone’s trembling hands released their death grip on his buttocks, and moved back around to cling to the long, rippling strength of his thigh muscles.&nbsp; Weakly, she rested the side of her face against his inner thigh, just under the crease of his groin, her drenched lips resting against his dripping shaft in a softly sliding kiss over his flesh.&nbsp; Panting and gulping in air, she swallowed what little pools of his seed collected in the niches of her mouth, under her tongue… and remembering what her mother had done to her father’s manhood after just such a milking, she flicked out her pink tongue and licked it slowly all over her master’s spent cock, lapping up every drop as she breathed in deeply the sharp, powerful scent of his virility, familiarizing her mind with his maleness… knowing full well she would be very intimately acquainted with it from that moment on.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>07-09-2009, 10:26:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Decimus continued his gentle stroking of her hair as she licked, occasionally rubbing an ear as his girth quivered at every slick press. He would tease her, as tension built, pulling back just before his next orgasm, holding her head back ever so gently as he sprayed his seed over his new pet's face, enjoying the trails of his markings falling over her perfect skin.<br><br>He would savor every second of this defilement... whether his eyes were open or closed.<br><br>The warrior's voice mocked lightly as he licked, accentuating his point by tensing and releasing his testicles, scrotum rising and falling in time with his words. "My pet appreciates her owner's shaft, but is ignoring those responsible for her gift, hmm? She should thank them as well."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>09-09-2009, 04:10:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Persephone’s flushed face was seared with her master’s hot seed and powerful scent, each creamy rivulet making her skin slick and slippery as she rubbed her cheek against the muscle of his inner thigh.&nbsp; At his words, she drew in her breath as she watched that heavy prominence of flesh under his shaft swell and drop, a motion as potent as the ebb and flow of the tides.&nbsp; <br><br>In obedience she brought her wet lips to form a softly sucking circle on one tightly rounded protruberance, the damp ring of her mouth pulling gently on his flesh until one half of his scrotum was nearly inside, her tongue lavishing silken caresses as she suckled, and her palm cupping and massaging the other testicle with rhythmic, sensual slowness.&nbsp; Between each expression of gratitude from her adoring lips around his source of manhood, she whispered huskily, “I do not... wish to... ignore any... part of my... master’s body...”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Vekseid</strong> on <strong>20-10-2009, 07:08:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Such perfect skin..." He said with appreciation, enjoying the feel of his veins beating against her soft skin almost as much as he did feeling them beat against her tongue, lips and throat. His hand ran through her hair delicately and carefully, admiring his prize. Every lash of her tongue around his testicle brought forth another bit of his seed. "You are a very good pet. I wonder how many I could make seethe with jealousy on watching you please a mere finger of mine." He half-lied. The answer to that one would be <em>most anyone who watched</em>.<br><br>He chose to remain silent for a time, doing naught but stroking her hair, caressing her ears and flesh, appreciating her as he willed with his eyes and hands while he let her explore with her lips and tongue.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Preliator (Vekseid and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>22-10-2009, 12:07:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"Such perfect skin... You are a very good pet. I wonder how many I could make seethe with jealousy on watching you please a mere finger of mine."</em><br><br>Persephone thrilled in pleasure at the words of praise from the Preliator, his words like caresses on her spirit and his hands on her hair and skin beguiling her body to shiver in strange little explosions of gooseflesh.&nbsp; Sensuous warmth infused her from the roots of her hair to her soles, an unfamiliar flood of feminine heat seduced by the vision of his body filling her wondering, admiring gaze.<br><br>Guided by her Master, Persephone explored that body… discovering, learning, delighting.&nbsp; The form of a man was so different from hers.&nbsp; Where her flesh was soft and smooth and fragile, his was hard and unyielding with masses of taut sinew sculpted on the battlefield… and she found her free hand straying again to investigate the long, rippling column of muscle that was his thigh as her lips sucked wetly and delicately on the textured skin cradling his testicle, her mouth almost noisy in its ministrations, while her tongue alternately licked all across his heavy sac in slow strokes in time with her gently kneading fingers on his scrotum, her eyes darting up to his to ensure that her caresses&nbsp; pleased him.&nbsp; When more of his seed was coaxed out by her sucking lips, she circled the base of his shaft with her fingers, squeezing and rubbing along its length while her mouth and tongue took care of the seed still welling out of the tiny slit, molding her moist lips around the crown with an ease and enjoyment that would not have been possible only minutes ago.&nbsp; <br><br>For the first time in her life, Persephone marveled at what made a man, a man.&nbsp; <br><br>With her lips leisurely enjoying every inch of his manhood, her tongue reveling in the tastes of pure male as she licked and sucked every curve of veined flesh of both pillar and base, her hand caressed his thigh, the softness of her palm like a wave of silk down the ridges of muscle until it encountered the scars there, and over those her fingers hesitated as she wondered what abuses the Preliator’s body had gone through… then her fingers stroked down and around the sinewy column to the intriguing convergence of muscle and tendons and ligaments on his knee.&nbsp; This tight, rounded joint she explored in fascination before moving down again to feel the power of his calf, its hard, coiled tension entirely at its master’s disposal for the bursts of speed he needed on the battlefield.&nbsp; At the thought of him going back to battle, her hand flew instinctively to feel again the scars on his thigh, and she shivered.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Where before the need for survival had tyrannically dictated her life, now only one thought ruled her young, impressionable mind, so ready to be imprinted by the strong control and guidance of her Master… and that was to please him.&nbsp; Although the thought was still not fully formed in her consciousness, it was there, growing from the seed planted in the yielding soil of her mind and flesh… his pleasure alone would rule her world, and her love would be her sustenance.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
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