The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Arelle's tower, casting long rectangles of gold across the stone floor. I sat at the heavy oak table, a plate piled high with eggs, roasted potatoes, and thick cuts of ham in front of me. The tower's servant had brought up a breakfast that could feed a small village, and I intended to do my part.
Kitty sat to my left, picking at a modest portion of fruit and bread, her green eyes still heavy with sleep. Nikki sat across from me, her posture perfect even now, a cup of tea cradled in her slender fingers. Samantha was nowhere to be seen at the table, but I felt her presence beneath it, her warm breath ghosting against my thigh.
Arelle entered from her study, the black gown flowing around her like shadow made silk. She moved to the table with measured steps, the vial of my seed clutched in her pale hand like a sacred relic. She didn't sit. She uncorked the vial, raised it to her lips, and took a single sip.
Her eyes fluttered closed. A soft sigh escaped her, almost involuntary. She held the sip in her mouth for a long moment before swallowing, and when she opened her eyes again, some of the tension had drained from her features.
"Better," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She corked the vial and tucked it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her gown. "Much better."
I grunted and took another bite of ham. Under the table, Samantha's hands found my cock, already half-hard from the morning's proximity. She guided it into her mouth, and I felt her tongue trace along the shaft, slow and worshipful.
"No cum," I said, my voice flat. "Just precum. My balls need a rest after yesterday."
Kitty giggled. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."
Nikki's lips twitched into a small smile behind her teacup. "He earned it."
Under the table, Samantha's mouth worked diligently, her tongue lapping at the head of my cock, collecting the thin, salty fluid that beaded at the tip. I felt her swallow, felt the shudder that passed through her body with each tiny dose. The brand on her groin pulsed with a faint pink light, visible even through the tablecloth's edge.
I took another bite of eggs and chewed slowly, savoring the salt and butter. "We need to talk about what happens next."
Kitty set down her fork. "Your family will notice you're gone, Samantha."
A soft whimper answered from beneath the table, but Samantha didn't stop sucking.
"They will," I continued. "Sooner or later, they'll send someone to check on her. Or she'll miss some social obligation and they'll send guards."
"She's not exactly subtle," Kitty added. "The brand alone—"
"The brand is hidden by her clothes," I said. "For now."
Arelle took a seat at the head of the table, her violet eyes sharp despite the lingering hunger in them. "The Suckling family commands significant resources. If they suspect Samantha has been taken, they will turn the city upside down."
"So we hide her," I said. "Or we give her back."
"Give her back?" Kitty's voice rose. "After what she did to you?"
I took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. "I'm not saying I want to. I'm saying we need to consider the options."
Under the table, Samantha's pace slowed. I felt her lips press a soft kiss against the base of my cock, her tongue flicking out to catch another drop of precum. She was listening.
"We could sell the cum," Kitty said, her voice thoughtful. "If it's as valuable as Arelle says, we could buy protection. Hire mercenaries. Maybe even buy off the Suckling family."
“They'll promise you the moon, but they'll send a rogue with a knife," Nikki said, her voice low. "I served them two hundred years. The Sucklings don't bargain. They take.
"Then we brand them," I said, the words coming out flat. "All of them."
The table went quiet. Even Samantha's mouth stilled beneath the table, her breath warm against my skin.
I set down my fork. "If I brand them, they stop. No more hurting. They'd answer to me.”
"Is that what you want?" Kitty asked, her voice small. "To be... their master?"
I stared at the half-eaten ham on my plate. The grease gleamed in the morning light. "I don't know what I want. I know I don't want to be a prisoner again. I know I don't want anyone else to suffer under them."
Nikki set down her teacup. "Sofia is worse than Samantha. I've seen what she does to the servants. She laughs while she hurts them. And Stella—she knows. She's always known. She just doesn't care."
Arelle nodded slowly. "The Suckling family has operated with impunity for generations. Their wealth buys silence, and their influence buys protection. If you intend to move against them, you need a plan. A detailed one."
"And time," I said. "Which we don't have."
"No," Arelle agreed. "But we can buy some. Nikki and Samantha should return to the estate. If they go back soon, the family may not realize anything is wrong."
Kitty frowned. "But how will Samantha feed? She can't survive on nothing."
Arelle's violet eyes flickered with thought. "Nikki is bonded to Zach through the privilege ring. That bond carries a trace of his Primal essence. It's a tiny amount, but it's consistent."
"You're saying..." Kitty trailed off, her cheeks flushing.
"If someone tastes Nikki's fluids," Arelle said, her voice clinical, "they would ingest a diluted form of Zach's essence. It might be enough to sustain Samantha without the euphoric effect."
I looked at Nikki. Her black eyes met mine, and I felt the mental connection between us, the bond that the ring had forged. Are you okay with this?
Her voice came through the bond, soft and certain. If it keeps Samantha alive, yes.
"Nikki's fine with it," I said. "Samantha."
Under the table, Samantha pulled her mouth from my cock. I heard her shift, heard the rustle of fabric. Then her voice, hoarse and desperate: "Yes, Master?"
"Lick Nikki. Make her come. Then tell us what it tastes like."
A moment of silence. Then the sound of a chair scraping back. I looked down as Samantha crawled out from under the table, her blond curls disheveled, her sapphire eyes glassy with need. She moved on hands and knees to Nikki's chair, her movements jerky, obedient.
Nikki, her hands finding the hem of her maid's dress. She lifted it slowly, revealing pale thighs, the dark thatch of hair between them already glistening. She didn't look away from me as she settled back into the chair, her legs parting.
Samantha lowered her head. Her tongue extended, and she pressed it against Nikki's slit, a long, slow stroke that made Nikki's breath catch.
The room was silent except for the wet sounds of Samantha's mouth working. Kitty watched with wide eyes, her hand pressed to her chest. Arelle observed with clinical detachment, her fingers steepled.
Nikki's hips shifted. Her hand found Samantha's curls, not pushing, just resting there. Her breath came faster, a soft rhythm that built with each stroke of Samantha's tongue.
"More," Nikki whispered. "There. Yes."
Samantha's mouth worked faster, her tongue plunging deep, her nose pressing against Nikki's clit. Nikki's back arched, a sharp cry escaping her lips as her body clenched. I watched her thighs tremble, watched the flush spread across her chest.
Samantha didn't stop until Nikki's shuddering subsided. Then she pulled back, her lips wet, her chin glistening. She swallowed.
"Well?" I asked.
Samantha's voice was small, defeated. "It's... it should sustain me. There's a trace of your essence in it."
Arelle nodded. "That confirms my theory. The privilege bond transfers a diluted form of your Primal essence through Nikki's body. It won't satisfy the addiction, but it will prevent starvation."
Samantha's shoulders slumped. She remained on her knees, her head bowed, her curls hiding her face.
"That should keep her alive," I said. "If she really works for it."
Kitty bit her lip. "So we send them back. Samantha pretends everything is normal. Nikki keeps her fed. And we figure out a plan for the rest of the family."
"A plan that makes them come to us," I said. "We let them indulge at first. Let them think they've won. Then we cut them off. Starve them. And when they're desperate enough, we introduce the secret supplier."
"You," Kitty said.
"Me."
Arelle’s eyes narrowed. “Before we proceed, we test the limits. We need to be sure she won’t turn against us. Won’t warn her family.” She stepped closer to Nikki. “We need to be sure Nikki can control Samantha too.”
I looked at Nikki. Try something.
Nikki's gaze shifted to Samantha. "Stand."
Samantha rose immediately, her body moving before her mind seemed to catch up. She stood in front of Nikki, her hands at her sides, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"Take off your dress."
Samantha's hands moved to the clasps of her fine gown. She undressed with mechanical precision, the fabric pooling at her feet until she stood naked, her pale skin bathed in the morning light. The pink heart-shaped brand above her cunt pulsed faintly, a constant reminder of her surrender.
Nikki's voice was soft, almost kind. "Turn around. Shake your ass for Zach. Apologize for all the pain you caused him."
Samantha turned. She bent over, her hands on her knees, and began to shake her hips. Her ass jiggled, the movement awkward and desperate. "I'm sorry, Master," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry for whipping you. For starving you. For everything."
The room went quiet.
I watched her. The proud noblewoman, reduced to this. Shaking her naked ass for the half-orc she'd beaten in her dungeon. Apologizing because she had no choice.
Kitty's hand found mine under the table. She squeezed, her green eyes searching my face.
I didn't look away from Samantha. "Keep going."
She kept shaking. Her apologies came faster, more desperate, a stream of confessions and regrets. The brand on her groin glowed brighter with each word, as if it was feeding on her submission.
Nikki watched with calm satisfaction. Arelle's expression was unreadable. Kitty's grip on my hand tightened.
I let it go on for a full minute. Then I said, "Stop."
Samantha froze. She remained bent over, her ass still presented, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"No," Nikki said. "That's not enough."
Samantha's shoulders began to shake. Nikki stepped closer, her voice dropping to something soft and terrible. "Tell her what you did, Samantha. Tell her about the orphanage. About the children."
A sound escaped Samantha's throat. Not a word. A whimper.
"You walked through like you owned the place," Nikki continued. "You even had favorites picked —" She stopped. Shook her head. "No. You tell her. You say it out loud."
Samantha's confession came in pieces. Broken. The brand on her groin pulsed with each syllable, a hungry red rhythm. She spoke of ledgers faked, of rations sold, of small bodies traded for coin in the back rooms. Mothers who begged were beaten. The youngest went first. Her voice cracked and splintered.
"Now," Nikki said, "touch yourself. For us."
Samantha's hand moved between her legs. Slow. Ashamed. Her fingers worked against her own flesh while tears tracked through the dirt on her cheeks. The brand flared hotter. Her breath hitched.
Kitty's hand found mine under the table. She squeezed.
We watched. The room held nothing but the wet sound of her fingers and her ragged breathing. Her hips began to rock. Her mouth opened. Her body tensed, arched, and she cried out as she came, her thighs trembling.
Lick it up," Nikki said. "You need to learn to clean up after yourself.
Samantha lowered herself. Her tongue touched the floor. She kept working herself, one hand on the ground, one hand between her legs, lapping at her own mess while another climax built. Her fingers begain a slow circle.
"You're stopping," Nikki said, her voice sharp.
Samantha's hand resumed its frantic pace. Another wave took her. She whimpered into the stone.
"She'll keep going until we're done talking," Nikki said, settling back into her chair. "The brand won't let her stop."
Arelle spoke then, her voice thoughtful, almost academic. "The orcs perfected this art over centuries. They don't see it as cruelty. They see it as efficiency. Why waste a resource when you can repurpose it? The body betrays the mind. Always. The brand just speeds up the process."
Samantha moaned, her hips jerking. Her climax was building again, involuntary, her body betraying her even as the tear traced a path through the grime on her cheek. She was humping the air, her fingers clawing at the marble, her face a mask of pleasure and despair.
"She's still suffering," Kitty whispered. "Even as she comes."
"It's the honesty of it I admire," Nikki said. "No pretenses. No mercy masquerading as justice. They take what they want and they make what's left useful."
Another climax. Samantha's legs gave out. She kept working, kept licking, kept coming, a machine of submission on the stone floor.
"It's not cruelty," Arelle said. "Cruelty implies choice. For them, this is simply how the world works. The strong rule. The weak serve. And the brands ensure the serving never stops."
Samantha's fingers moved. Her tongue moved. The brand glowed. She came again.
"Now," Nikki said, "spread yourself for us. Show them what happens when a branded woman is denied."
Samantha's fingers slid between her legs, her breath ragged. She moaned as she touched herself, her hips bucking. "Please—I need—"
"You need what?"
"Master's seed."
Nikki looked at me. I shook my head. Not yet.
"Then you'll wait," Nikki said. "And you'll lick every drop of your own arousal from these stones before we're done."
Samantha whimpered but obeyed, her tongue tracing the marble where her wetness had fallen. The crest flared with each touch, as if feeding on her submission.
Moments bled by, the stones now spotless. "Get dressed," I said. "We have a plan to make.
She straightened, her movements slow, defeated. She gathered her dress and pulled it back on, her fingers fumbling with the clasps.
Nikki rose and moved to her side, helping her with the buttons. Her touch was gentle, almost maternal. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're doing what you need to survive."
Samantha's eyes met mine. There was no defiance left in them. Just exhaustion, hunger, and something that looked almost like gratitude.
I looked at Arelle. "We need a detailed plan. Timelines. Contingencies. And we need to move fast."
Arelle nodded. "I'll begin drafting scenarios. But first—" She looked at Nikki. "—we need to ensure Samantha is stable enough to return. She'll need to feed regularly."
"She will," Nikki said. "I'll take care of her."
Kitty leaned into my side, her voice soft. "We'll figure this out. Together."
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Under the table, my cock was still half-hard, still aching from Samantha's mouth. But there was something else in my chest now. Something that felt like purpose.
Samantha finished dressing. She stood beside Nikki, her hand finding Nikki's, their fingers interlacing. The branded woman and the bonded maid. Both mine now, in different ways.
I looked at the black ring on my finger. The gold ring on Nikki's. The brand hidden beneath Samantha's dress.
I picked up my fork and took another bite of ham. "Let's get to work."
I found Kitty outside the tower gates, sitting on a low stone wall, her red hair catching the morning light. She was braiding a strand of grass between her fingers, her green eyes distant.
"Hey," I said, settling beside her. The stone was cold through my trousers.
She looked up, a smile spreading across her freckled face. "Hey yourself. Thought you'd be planning all day."
"Arelle's drafting scenarios. Nikki's got Samantha under control." I paused. "I needed air."
Kitty nodded, understanding. She hopped off the wall, landing softly on the packed earth. "Then let's get some. I know a spot."
She led me past the tower's outer wards, through a gap in the hedge, and onto a stretch of open ground where the city walls gave way to rolling hills. The grass was tall here, yellow-green and swaying. A few scattered oaks provided pockets of shade.
"Good place for training," I said.
"Good place for thinking too." Kitty turned to face me, her hands on her hips. "So. You still hiding your affinity?"
"Yes."
"Even from me?"
I met her eyes. "The fewer people who know, the safer we all are."
She chewed her lip, then nodded. "Okay. But you're going to need to use it eventually. You know that, right?"
"Eventually." I cracked my neck. "But not today."
Kitty laughed, a bright sound that carried across the field. "Fine. Then let's work on something else." She flexed her hands, and I felt a faint pulse of magic—Primal, I realized, the same energy that lived in my own bones. "Arelle mentioned I could use a little of your essence through the bond. It's not much, but it's enough to enhance my speed, toughness, strength."
"You want to practice?"
"I want to be useful." Her voice dropped, earnest. "If we're going after the Sucklings, I need to be able to keep up. Heal people. Maybe even—" She hesitated. "Fight, if I have to."
I studied her. Small, wiry, built for agility rather than power. "What do you want to focus on?"
"Speed." She said it without hesitation. "If I'm fast enough, I can get to people before they're hurt. Dodge hits. Heal on the move."
"Toughness would keep you alive longer."
"Speed keeps everyone else alive longer." She grinned. "I'm a healer, Zach. My job is to reach them before they bleed out. Toughness doesn't help if I'm too slow to get there."
I couldn't argue with that. "Alright. Show me what you've got."
Kitty took a breath, closed her eyes, and focused. The Primal energy around her flickered—weak, unsteady, like a candle guttering in a draft. She opened her eyes and bolted.
She was fast. Not supernaturally so, but faster than a normal human. Her feet kicked up dust as she sprinted to the nearest oak and back, skidding to a stop in front of me, breathing hard.
"How was that?" she asked, grinning.
"Good start. But your form's sloppy." I pointed at her feet. "You're landing heel-first. That's slowing you down and jarring your knees. Try landing on the balls of your feet."
She blinked. "Since when are you a running coach?"
"Earth knowledge" I shrugged. "Try it."
She did. Three more sprints, each one smoother than the last. By the fourth, she was cutting her time by a third, her movements fluid, almost graceful.
"Better," I said.
She beamed, sweat glistening on her forehead. "I'm going to be the fastest healer in the guild."
"You already are."
Her grin widened. She was about to say something else when a voice cut across the field, smooth and mocking.
"Well, well. The null and his little priestess."
I turned. Viktor stood at the edge of the clearing, flanked by two women in traveling clothes. His enchanted robes caught the light, shimmering with faint runes. His blond hair was pulled back, and his blue eyes glittered with amusement.
Behind him, on the road, two large carriages waited, their horses stamping impatiently. I could see more women inside—a whole party, maybe twenty of them, peering through the curtains.
Kitty tensed beside me. "Viktor."
"Priestess." He gave a shallow bow, his smile never faltering. "I'm surprised to see you keeping company with such... limited company." His eyes slid to me. "I thought you had standards."
I didn't rise to it. "Leaving?"
Indeed. The guild has granted me leave to train with my elven kin in the far north. The Divination arts require a master's touch—something this backwater can't provide." He gestured at the carriages. "I'm traveling with a proper retinue, of course. Twenty women, all eager to serve a man of true power."
I snort. "True power? You're just like me, Viktor. Just flashier and fun.
He turned back to me, his composure cracking. "If you're so confident, null, then fight me. Right now. Prove you're not just a mouthy half-breed."
Kitty grabbed my arm. "Zach, don't—"
But I was already smiling. "Fine."
Viktor’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He stepped into the clearing, rolling his shoulders. The women in the carriages leaned forward, eager for entertainment.
I let him raise his hand. Let the air ripple. A glob of water slammed into my chest—cold, wet, useless. I didn’t even blink. “Missed.”
His jaw tightened. He threw another, harder. It splashed across my face. I licked a drop off my lip. “Refreshing”
He conjured a sword of ice, the blade glinting, and swung at my neck. The edge kissed my skin—and shattered. He stared at the unbroken skin, the faint white line where it should have parted flesh. “Shame,” I said. “Pretty toy.”
Then he stopped. Closed his eyes. Breathed. When he opened them, they were different. Sharp. Certain.
“Two seconds,” he said. “I see two seconds ahead. Everything you do, I already know.”
I didn’t move. “And?”
“And you’re already dead.”
His other hand uncurled. Frost crept from his palm, knitted into a grip, then both blades grew back—one in each fist, long and serrated, mist bleeding off the edges. He came at me. The first sword aimed for my throat.
I swept his leg. He jumped—clean, graceful, already in the air before my foot passed through where his ankle had been. But his eyes went wide mid-float. He saw something. Landed, twisted, threw his arms up. My fist met his guard the instant his soles touched dirt. He flew backward, skidding, eating dust.
He got up. Face red. Breathing hard. He charged, swung a punch into my gut. I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. I looked down at him. “Feel better?”
He didn’t.
I raised my hands. “I yield.”
The brunette in the carriage laughed again. That low, musical sound. Viktor’s head snapped toward her, and she covered her mouth, but the damage was done.
He sneered, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He turned and walked back to the carriages, his women applauding politely. The brunette, though—she didn't clap. She just watched me, her eyes narrowing.
The carriages rolled away, kicking up dust.
Kitty was at my side instantly, her hand on my cheek where Viktor had hit me. "You let him win."
"I made him look good."
"You made him look like an ass." She grinned. "That was beautiful."
"Worth it."
She laughed, pulling me into a hug. "You're insane."
"Maybe." I held her for a moment, then pulled back. "But he's gone. That's what matters."
A familiar warmth bloomed in my chest—Nikki's voice, soft and amused. You're gloating.
Maybe a little.
I felt it through the bond. The satisfaction. A pause. How are you?
Better now. You?
Samantha's asleep. I'm watching her. She's... calmer, now. The brand is settling. Another pause. We need to move soon. Stella will notice she's gone.
Tomorrow afternoon?
Yes. Be ready.
The warmth faded. I turned to Kitty, who was watching me with knowing eyes. "Nikki?"
I nodded. "Tomorrow afternoon. We move."
Kitty's smile faded, replaced by something harder. Determined. "Then we'd better make sure we're ready."
We walked back to the tower together, the sun climbing higher, the weight of what was coming settling on both our shoulders.