From Volume 2


und sein Herr, der Doge

The Month of Sacred Wedding

The Night of a New Experience

To his surprise, Isegrim saw himself in an embarrassing situation which his Master, the Duke, had got him into. He had blindfolded him and took him into some unknown house with his hands tied on his back. A silent driver — could it be Cochise? — took the rear… No, it wasn’t him.
Isegrim was clothed with a sleep scarf. Now he was kneeling on a carpet. His Master stood behind him, stroking his cheek.
He heard a female voice. “Yes, he is handsome.”
His master took Isegrim’s head into both hands, as if he wanted to close his ears.
“I’m very grateful that you will take care of him. He will be your pleasure. His first time with a woman was disappointing. Be strict if you need to. Call me, whenever you need to. My servants will answer the phone, don’t fear to disturb, we don’t have a deep sleep anyway. — Well, my darling, be at the Lady’s will! She is a very noble and important Lady.”
Did he know her? No. Her voice was unfamiliar, and they spoke German, not Italian. And the smell of the room was unknown.
“See you soon, my sweetheart!”
“Master, will you go away? Leave me here?” he whispered. But the Duke had left already. Isegrim knelt on the carpet, his eyes blindfolded.
Many slaves, female and male, were taken to other Masters and Mistresses in this night. It was the full moon of the Holy Wedding. The Month of Blessing for All.
Vanessa looked with some amazement at this living present, kneeling on her carpet. She had received ample instructions of use. She was amazed about herself and also a little helpless.
He was naked because his sleepscarf had slipped down from his shoulders. He was slightly aroused.
She knew that he would obey whatever order she gave. If not, she might have used the cane that came with the present. But this would certainly not become necessary, as his master had told her.

For a while, she enjoyed watching him. Then she approached.
“Close your eyes, I will take away the blindfold.”
She loosened the knot and lifted the cloth from his eyes. She wanted to see first, then be seen.
“Keep your eyes closed”, she said in a friendly tone.
She saw a beautiful symmetrical face with strong cheek bones, a distinct but not protruding nose, his lips had the line of a Mongolian archer’s bow. Strong black brows overshadowed the eyes’ hollows. His long hair was loosely tied in his neck. It was silky and dark brown.
“Open your eyes!”
The large, deep blue eyes almost shocked her.
He saw a woman of 48, slender, ash blonde, her hair combed back, no make-up.
They were in a large but very simple living room. The woman watched him intensely. He lowered his eyes and his head.
She stood up and walked around him. Inspected him. She stopped and untied his hands. She told him to get up and tried to seize the cloth. He was quicker.
“Madam — I’m supposed to do that!”
She remembered that the using instructions asked her not embarrass him by doing things that were his job.
“Another way of white-washing slavery”, she thought in amusement.
Maybe she should use the time and infect him with the freedom virus?
She never knew that he had become immune long ago. But she would catch the slave keeping virus, something she never thought would happen.
For a moment, she remembered that she was doing what she always had been warned not to do: Be alone with a male Homsarec.
But she had not been able to resist the Duke’s proposal.
It was not her first meeting with the ruler of the island republic. Since she was in her position as the Prime minister, she had met him on international summits a few times, enchanted by his good looks.
But a Prime minister could impossibly risk the rumor of a close relationship, much less because the press was at their heels already.
And then he made this decadent proposal.
“What was I thinking?”
He must have hypnotized her. But she would not have rejected him either…
“Don’t I find this situation thrilling?” she wondered. Yes she did. Also a Prime minister can feel a need.
“Now, get up!”
Slender, youthful body. No body hair? Yes, but well-shaved. He held his arms differently… Yes, one had been injured, the right one.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Thank you, Madam, I’m here to serve you, not the other way. May I serve something to eat — to drink — for you?”
She was close to saying that she was at home and could serve herself, but she knew it would have hurt him.
“I think I’d like a glass of water.”
“Tub? Bottle? Cold? Warm?”
Oh, well…
“From the tub. Let it flow a little.Cool.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
He went. She heard him open the cupboard doors, turn on the tub, then he returned in a graceful walk, went down on his knees before her, and, with both hands, presented her the most beautiful glass he could find, a champagne flute, filled with cool water.
To her, it tasted like champagne.
She was lost.
If all her wishes would be fulfilled — couldn’t it become boring after some time?
For how long was she allowed to keep him?
While she was drinking, he stood two steps back. As she had taken the glass from his hands, he stood up and remained waiting with lowered eyes. Apart from a little clumsiness of his right arm, he moved with grace. His penis had a perfect shape… oups! She had intended not to look. He noticed it with a spontaneous smile. This is not for you to know, bloke! A little triumph? Don’t even think of it!
Oh, she noticed she started thinking like a mistress. And would she act like one?
“What is this scarf you brought?“
“My sleep scarf.”
“Our kind of pyjamas, if you will. And coverlet, too.”
“That’s warm enough?”
“Most of the time. We don’t really sleep, you know.”
“Oh, I heard about that. Show me how you use it.”
He took the folded scarf and let it fall apart, flung it around his shoulders, covering the left, leaving the right one free, wrapping the longer side around him and tucking the end in over his ribs.
“This is how we wear it for getting up at night…”
“Can you walk with it? Show me.”
He took a few steps.
“You walk like a Balinese girl.”
“If you don’t like it…”
“Did I say that?”
“No, Mistress.”
“Oh please, stop saying Mistress.”
“Yes Master.”
“Isegrim! Are you trying to be funny?”
His glance was a little frightened.
“So — what was this?”
“If Madam doesn’t allow me to address her as ‘Mistress’, I have to act as if my Master was present. This is our law.”
She was a little puzzled, needed to think. What use was trying to ‘liberate’ him?
“May I take the scarf off?”
“No, we’re going to bed.”
For him, the dreaded moment came closer.
“I’ll show you the bathroom.”
She walked ahead, he tripped behind her, along the corridor to the bathroom with elegant bowls as washing basins, transparent shower doors, a mirror cabinet.
When she moved in, she said it was way too luxurious for her. But as the Prime Minister of the new government, she should live in appropriate style. What a difference to the small flat in her ‘exile’ years.
“Guest towel, tooth brush…”
“You want me to take a shower, Mistress? I just did before leaving…”
“Alright. I’m leaving you alone, and when you’re finished, come to my bedroom.”
She went to the bedroom, hastily undressed and took her largest and most beautiful scarf from the wardrobe — a sarong that the Indonesian ambassador had given her as a present — and wrapped herself into it, as Isegrim had shown her. Then she sat on the bed, waiting.
It took him some time, and he came back with moist hair. Had taken a shower to make no mistake.
He looked at her in surprise.
“Madam, you look adorable.”
“Does it make it easier for you?”
He blushed.
“Come here. Kneel down. That’s right.”
And she kissed him.
Would he lose control if she encouraged him?
Was obedience just a thin layer of paint over his wild nature?
“He will not dare to be disobedient”, the Duke had said when talking on the phone, “he will keep self-control all the time.”
“How can you know?”
“It is his passion to obey. He won’t spoil the night by being naughty. And he doesn’t know yet what to do — you will teach him everything.”
‘Since when is a man ignorant about making love?’ she thought.
“Madam”, laughed the Duke, “he is very innocent! And he is as unable to assault, as a dog is unable to hold a lecture on nuclear physics.”
Outch. He read my thoughts. ‘Can they all do this?’
Again he read her.
“More or less…”
She took Isegrim into her arms. Yes, there was hunger. But not only for sex. What was it? She tried to scan him, as her son did it sometimes. And she did when she was trying to find out about her son. About his ascetic life which to her did not seem natural. Asexual. Couldn’t he be at least a bit like this guy?
Now another look into the using instructions.
She took the fax from her night case and read it over again. She was asked to encourage him to confront with her body because this was the night — as the king had ordered — in which there was a chance to discover what might be hidden behind fear. Because many of these martial boys and girls had grown up with their fathers, rejected by shocked mothers who could not handle to have a Homsarec baby. Many of them, being born with sharp teeth, had not been breastfed, many might not be gay, but just be afraid of women. It would be good to deliver them from this trap. Not to convert them was the intention, but to give those a chance who hadn’t yet discovered their true nature.
“Now lay down your scarf and come to me”, she said while loosening her sarong, but still staying covered.
He crept on the bed like a huge lizard, but when he was half over her, his right arm failed, bent off to the side, and he almost fell on her.
“Forgive me!”
She felt his panic. His cheek landed on her breast, he tried to get up, but she held his neck down and forced him to remain on this soft pillow.
“Enjoy it!” she said close to his ear, “can you?”
“If you wish so, Madam…”
“No, I want to hear if you like it.”
“Very much so.”
“Madam, you feel nice, I like you a lot, but yet it is a little scary.”
“Only at the beginning, trust me.”
Again, he tried to free himself, again she held him and kept him from getting up.
“Are you feeling coerced?” she asked.
He turned his eyes up, trying to see her expression.
“You’re in need to serve the lady? You made a program how to do it? Forget it. Just do what I tell you. And now I’m telling you: Just lie where you are and relax.”
His heart was beating fast.
“Men always fear to fail — even he does — how touching”, she thought.
Sie tried to find his right hand — “give me your right hand” — and put it on her left breast. The hand cramped and jerked.
“Don’t you pinch me!”
“Forgive me, I don’t control it.”
She seized it with her right hand, held his hand with both her hands, softly bent his fingers open, massaged them and put it back on her breast, her nipple right in his palm.
“How is this?”
“Can you take it?”
“Just so.”
“Would you tell me what happened to your arm?”
“Please, not now.”
“Yes Madam.”
The night would be long. Next day would be free from appointments, however difficult it had been to arrange. One thing was clear. Touching her breast was not a pleasant experience for him. It was strange and scary.
She would have to follow intuition. Though, it was not an unpleasant experience for her. She felt attracted to this young man, 22 years old, handsome, passive, shy. A very special attraction.
But why did it not arouse him at all? Did he have a problem with her age?
“I’m rather old, right?”
“Yes, Madam.”



Gemahlin des Dogen

She had not foreseen this. But now she remembered what her son had told her and what was also written in the using instructions. “You may get strange compliments. As Homsarecs admire old age, they adore older people and yearn to reach their age. “Oh, you are so old!” is about the most respectful and adoring compliment. Take it with gratitude and generosity, as the praise they mean to say.
“Thank you, my sweetheart!” She kissed the top of his head.
But did that mean they could find old people attractive? Or just respect them?
What might trigger him?
“Turn on your belly”, she said, making way for him to turn around. He obeyed. Thought he would get a massage.
She climbed on top, seized his wrists, leaned on them and made slight rocking movements, pushing his behind with her belly and pelvis.
It exited her. This is power. Fucking means power. Power triggers him. Sure. If he loves the Duke, if he belongs to him, then this is what he needs.
It may not be a confrontations with the female body.
But I’ll show you that also a woman can have power. And be aroused by her own power.
She blew on his neck, into his soft, silky hair.
She bit his shoulder. His skin showed goose-pimples. She bit softly at first, then harder.
He moaned. Did he fear teeth? He should know that hers were blunt, she would not hurt him. Now, also his hips started rocking. Got into a rhythm with hers. No words were needed.
She pulled his hands close to his head, held them left and right, sat up and rode him. She used to ride horses as a teen.
Was this a forbidden idea?
“Turn around”, she said again.
She got off, let him move, put the sarong aside, he was on his back, she turned round to see him and saw the glorious hard-on. Like freshly ordered and delivered. She moved on top right away. Again held his writsts. His eyes tried to escape her glance.
“Look at me!” she whispered. Conjuring.
His eyelids trembled. He could not withstand her glance. She played with it. She held his face by his chin and kissed him.
“How long can you continue?” she asked.
“Until Madam wish to come”, he replied.
‘You little bragger’, she thought.
He was a bit hurt.
“Slaves can do this”, he said, “it is part of our service.”
And indeed. He controlled himself. She would be able to use this lovely toy, as long as she wanted. Free from fear — the doctor said she would not be pregnant any more — and he was hot and healthy.
Would she be able to come at all?
Men had not been capable to make her feel this pleasure. Orgasms were her own. Her fantasies were her own.
What was she dreaming of?
This was it. This was her dream. He was what she had been dreaming of.
A shiver ran all over her, as if shovels full of tiny diamonds were thrown on her. She came in a soft and tender way she had never had before, free from violence, free from the bitterness of being alone, free from this headache afterwards that held her head like an iron band.
This was different, light, transient, without effort. Yet, very blissful.
And what about him?
She saw his begging glance.
She nodded: “Go ahead.”
So he released what he had held back, quivered, moaned, almost screamed, using his hand as a gag, biting himself, bleeding.
Now she was triggered to the point of coming again and coming violently. The first one had just been a prelude. It would not stop, as if an electric spark had jumped across from him to her.
But now, she went to get a band-aid for his bite. When she came back, he was licking his wound.
“Show me!” she demanded.
It wasn’t bleeding any more.
“No band-aid?” He shook his head, kept licking, the wound closed.
She came back into the bed. Intending to embrace him.
Wouldn’t he?
When he understood, he snuggled into her arms. Oh yes! He was close to tears, but held them back.
She did not.
He was shocked: “Did I make a mistake?”
“No, not at all! Everything is fine. It was beautiful. Too beautiful! I’m not aquainted to that any more.”
“Madam, I didn’t really do anything for you…”
“You don’t know how much you have done for me. Now, quiet.”
And secretly, she thought: ‘Tanguta! I want him! Sell him to me!’