“Terril, your guard will escort you to your new accommodations,” Aesnil said as I got to my feet, her face glowing with joy. “There will be many gifts for you for this day’s work, you have my word on it. For now, I am sure your new accommodations will give you pleasure. Rest there till I have need of you again.”
She squeezed my shoulder with true, deep-down warmth, gestured in the direction I was supposed to go, then left by another door, her guard right behind her. I noticed then how nervous my own guard was, but led them out without letting them know it. I was surrounded by eight big, strapping men, and they were just short of being afraid of me! It was ludicrous to think I could handle all of them, but as long as they thought I could I was more than half-way there. It was a new experience walking around on that planet without having men’s minds humming at me, but at that point I considered it a change for the better.
My new room wasn’t far away, but as it turned out it was more an apartment than a room. I was let into the reception room by the guards, and was left alone to examine the pink and white pillows, silks, and carpeting, and take a tentative taste of the fresh food standing on a newly brought tray. Seeing another door made me wonder what was behind it, and opening the door showed me my sleeping room—with an added convenience I’d forgotten I’d asked for. The sleeping room was of silver and blue, fixed up with a wide set of sleeping furs stacked high, large windows letting in sunlight, blue pillows on silver carpeting just like in my old room—but with the one addition I’d asked for.
Daldrin, chained hand and foot to the floor.
“That smirk does not become you,” my loyal servant growled, looking up at me from his place on the floor. “As you have now had your amusement at my plight, I would appreciate being released.”
“Would you indeed,” I murmured, stepping closer to look down at him. “And what has a slave to say on the doings of his dendaya?”
Daldrin, annoyed, opened his mouth to snap out an answer, at the same time pulling at the chains on his wrists. As large as he was, the metal had no trouble holding him, and he bit back the words he’d been about to say as a very bad idea. He stared up at me in silence for a moment, fighting his thoughts back under control, then tried again.
“It seems the dendaya has won the approval of the Chama,” he said, his forwardness shrinking back to the level at which it had been when I’d first met him. “Is this the thanks a poor servant receives for having aided both his Chama and his dendaya?”
“A servant should be grateful that he was allowed to be of assistance,” I pointed out as though the idea were no more than reasonable. “Would he dare to expect a reward after receiving such favored treatment? No, I think not—unless he also sought punishment. Does the slave wish to be punished?”
“No, dendaya, this slave does not wish to be punished,” he assured me in a meek tone while his mind seethed. “This slave wishes only to give pleasure. Release me, dendaya, so that I might give you pleasure.”
“Perhaps later.” I yawned, pretending I was actually considering it. “What has become of your clothing?”
“It was taken from me,” he answered, practically through his teeth until he unclamped his jaw. “Perhaps the dendaya knows something regarding the reason?”
“Ah, yes, I do seem to recall now,” I said, tapping my lips with one finger. “It pleases me to look upon a body as lovely as yours, therefore have I had your clothing taken. For what reason should I have deprived myself?”
“Lovely,” he choked, pulling at the chains again. “You now have the power to do as you wish with me, therefore do you see no reason to deprive yourself. Perhaps I, in your place, would have seen a reason.”
“Perhaps you only believe you would have,” I said, looking down at him. “What difference is there between chains holding a man and the strength of a man holding a woman? Should it please me to take you, as it pleased you to take me, what difference would there be?”
“If no other,” he said, trying to smile, “there would be the difference between man and woman. A man learns the ways of a woman’s body so that he may use her as she was meant to be used. A man was not made to be used. So you do this to me in revenge for what was done to you earlier. Was the experience so unpleasant, then, that it called for revenge?”
“Pleasant or unpleasant, it was not my choice,” I said. “Should pleasure be given you against your will, does the sweetness take the sour taste away?”
“Perhaps it would in part.” He grinned, and then the grin softened. “To wish to use a highly desirable woman is no more than natural in a man. Should the action have given you distress, you have my apologies—yet not my regret.”
“And without regret, the action would happily be repeated at first opportunity,” I summed up with a nod. “I see you need to be left in chains—or perhaps to be taken so after all.”
“Wenda, do not leave me chained.” He laughed, unable to put the desperation he wanted into his voice. “Should you leave me so, there will be pleasure for neither of us. I must be free if we are to chase the sourness away.”
“I do not see the necessity for freeing you.” I shrugged. “Should I wish pleasure, I may take it as you have taken it—as easily and with as little regret. I have been taught that among l’lendaa, the ability to do gives the right.”
“Among l’lendaa, yes,” he agreed, no longer laughing. “You, however, are not l’lenda, nor shall you ever be. You are wenda, subject to l’lenda, to his desires and demands. I am a man and cannot be used as a woman is. Release me, else your pleasure will be an elusive thing.”
His light blue gaze had become sober and very determined, downright stubborn if you included the indications in his mind. He was convinced he could and I couldn’t, and argument on the subject was a waste of time. I shrugged as if conceding the point, then turned and left the room.
A minute later I was back with the tray of food, but it wasn’t my intention to torture him by eating in front of him, as the wary look in his eye seemed to assume. I put the tray down near him, took my sandals off, slipped out of the gown, then sat down to feed him.
Knowing how people feel about things does quite a lot to help you deal with those people, but very often empathy is unnecessary when dealing with certain people and specific actions. Daldrin had had me feed him earlier that day, and I would have had to have been entirely without senses not to know how much he had enjoyed it. I tasted the food first, as I’d been taught to do with the Hamarda, then I fed him as much as he would take, silently, gently, as though he were the important one. I used my lap to hold his head up as he ate, and he was very much aware of it; his eyes moved over me as if he had never seen me before, and his hands closed to fists beneath the cuffs of his chains.
After I had finished eating my portion of the meal, I moved the tray away and slid out from under his head. I could feel his reluctance to let me go, and I’d been careful to .keep out of range of those big hands of his. If he had gotten a grip on me, I would have been caught until I unchained him—and probably a good deal longer. I moved around to his right side and knelt beside him, then leaned forward to kiss him very lightly without touching him. Without looking I could feel his hands fold into fists again as he gritted his teeth, determined not to react to anything I did to him. He was rested and well fed and had worked out his needs earlier that morning; that was probably why he was so sure he could resist me, but I knew better. The men of that world rarely denied themselves anything, and even having been a slave hadn’t changed Daldrin’s basic outlook on life. The initial kissing had been a warning of my intentions, but not a warning that would benefit him. He was very much aware of what I was doing, and his trying to dull his senses automatically heightened them. That was when I began on him in earnest;