Instructing the Novice Read online

  “Serve me? Serve me how?” Lizabeth asked, mystified.

  “Why, in all things, I would think. And especially sexually.” Mistress Anarrah smiled gently. “Have you not noticed, my dear, how he tries to do little things for you? The way he wanted to fix the ribbons you must wear wrapped around your legs…how he wanted to get that book on tort reform for you. But you rarely let him.”

  Lizabeth thought about all the times in the years they’d been working together that Lone had served her coffee or tea, fixing it to her exact liking flawlessly every time. Or the way he was always ready to run errands for her or take notes for her or do any of the hundred other things he did to make her life easier.

  But…he’s my assistant, she thought uneasily. He’s supposed to do those things—it’s his job.

  But she’d had assistants before and none of them had enjoyed helping her and doing their job like Lone did. And at work wasn’t the only time he helped her. What about when he came over to her suite and cooked for her? And then insisted on doing the dishes afterwards even though Lizabeth had protested that they ought to split the chores? He always seemed to find other little things to do for her as well—things she had gradually begun to take for granted.

  And now we’re away from the office and we’re in a much stranger situation than we ever have been before, she thought. And he wants to help me in other ways. More…intimate ways.

  She thought of how he’d wanted to help her get dressed and put on the ribbons in the first place…and how he’d wanted to kneel and fix them when they came untied. The way he had caught her in mid-air when she’d fallen from the rolling staircase because he was so good at anticipating exactly what she needed and giving it to her.

  And don’t forget the way he fucked you within an inch of your life last night with that toy, whispered a little voice in her head. He certainly gave you what you needed then! Several times.

  Just thinking about it made Lizabeth blush and look down at her hands. God, could it be that Mistress Anarrah was right? Did Lone really want to serve her? And did he really get pleasure from doing so?

  “I can see by your face that you’re beginning to understand what I mean.” Mistress Anarrah’s soft voice cut into her reflections.

  “I…think so,” Lizabeth said uncertainly. “But…I don’t know that I really think that makes him submissive.”

  “Not in the sense that you were thinking earlier, no,” Mistress Anarrah said. “I do not think that Lone has any wish to be physically punished or beaten by you. But I do believe that if you wished to tie him up and flog or whip him, he would allow it and might even get pleasure from it if he thought it gave you pleasure. Do you understand?”

  “I’m…beginning to,” Lizabeth said. “You’re saying he just wants to serve me? But why?”

  “For love, my dear. Serving you is his way of showing how much he loves you,” Anarrah said earnestly. “I remember the first time I realized my Joren was a true submissive. We were still on Yonnie Six at the time and he was so young—only about twenty-two cycles to my own thirty-five. I was a businesswoman—a practitioner of law—but I, like all Yonnite Mistresses, owned bodyslaves.

  “I remember when I bought Joren, I had him in my domicile for almost a month before I realized that he really enjoyed the duties I assigned him. He would look at me with shining eyes whenever I gave him a task and he always did it perfectly.”

  She sighed. “I wasn’t in the habit of punishing my bodyslaves like most Mistresses—or in the habit of using them sexually. I just expected them to do their assigned duties and if they didn’t, they were sold. The system worked well and I told myself I was content. But the way Joren looked at me… She shook her head. He was so young—too young, I thought, for me. But he served me so beautifully and looked at me so longingly that eventually I took him to my bed.”

  Mistress Anarrah closed her eyes, a look of bliss coming over her face.

  “And that was where I learned how desperately he truly wanted to be of service. I only let him massage me at first…but then I taught him what I liked and how I liked it done.” She laughed. “He was a very enthusiastic student.”

  Lizabeth felt a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

  “To hear him talk, he’s still very enthusiastic about, er, serving you.”

  “It gives him great pleasure,” Lady Anarrah said, nodding. “And it gives me pleasure to be served with such love and devotion. But make no mistake about it, my dear…” She raised one finger as though making her point. “Being submissive does not mean being weak. It takes a great deal of courage to give yourself completely—body, mind, and soul—to another person.”

  “I guess I can see that,” Lizabeth acknowledged, nodding.

  “Males—especially those from cultures where they are dominant—like to project a tough image,” Mistress Anarrah said. “But the male ego is fragile and their fear of rejection is strong—almost crippling at times. Do you have any idea of the level of bravery it takes for one of them to offer himself to you? What if you don’t want him?” She shook her head. “Think of the pain and shame and humiliation such a rejection would bring! Only the bravest and most self-assured male is secure enough in his masculinity to give himself to a woman and call her ‘Mistress.’ To love her and devote his life to serving and protecting her.”

  “You know, I never thought of it like that,” Lizabeth murmured.

  “It took me some time to come to the realization as well,” Mistress Anarrah said, nodding. “And to realize how very brave my Joren was—not only in giving himself to me but in defending me as well. I remember one night, walking home from a benefit concert, we were set upon—attacked by a band of disaffected males.”

  “Disaffected males?” Lizabeth asked, frowning.

  “Angry ex-slaves,” Mistress Anarrah clarified. “It will probably come as no surprise to you that there are many males on Yonnie Six who resent the social system we have there.”

  “With females being dominant and males being mostly slaves? Yeah, that wouldn’t go over too well on my world either,” Lizabeth said dryly. “So they attacked you?”

  “They did.” Anarrah looked at Lizabeth seriously. “They tried to rape me and kill me. But Joren stopped them.” She shook her head, her voice sinking low. “I never saw anyone fight like that. It was like he was fighting for his own life, not just mine. He nearly got killed in the process himself, but he kept them off me until help could arrive. After that, I knew.”

  “Knew what?” Lizabeth asked, fascinated despite herself.

  “I knew that I loved him—that I wanted him as more than just a bodyslave,” Anarrah said simply. “That I wanted him and only him for the rest of my life.”

  “But—” Lizabeth began, and then stopped herself.

  “But what, my dear? Go on—ask whatever is on your mind.”

  “It’s just…didn’t your, uh, age difference ever cause any problems?” Lizabeth asked in a rush. “I mean, didn’t you worry that Joren would want a younger woman eventually?”

  “The thought crossed my mind from time to time,” Mistress Anarrah admitted. “But our connection goes beyond the physical. Joren has never once been unfaithful to me, nor I to him—even after we moved away from Yonnie Six in order to be together.”

  “But…I thought you were already together on Yonnie Six,” Lizabeth objected.

  “Oh, we were—as Mistress and bodyslave. But I wanted more than that with my darling Joren. Of course, one can keep such relationships secret but I didn’t want to hide my love. I had heard of this place…of the Tower.” She made a graceful motion, encompassing the blue-gray stone structure around them. “I gave up a successful law practice to come here and study and then to teach, all so that Joren and I wouldn’t have to hide our love.” She smiled at Lizabeth. “And I have never regretted it, my dear. Not for an instant.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Lizabeth murmured and she couldn’t help remembering how Lone had faced down the angry Frie
zens to keep her safe—how he had been shot protecting her.

  “I like to think it’s a lovely story,” Mistress Anarrah said, nodding. “But I didn’t tell it to you for no reason. There is a lesson for you in there as well.”

  “You want me to let Lone, uh, serve me?” Lizabeth asked hesitantly.

  “Not just serve you—adore you. Worship you. You’re his goddess, my dear—revel in your beauty and your feminine power and let him worship you as such. Whether that worship takes the form of servicing your needs in bed, or simply tying your leg ribbons.” She winked at Lizabeth. “Remember I told you there was a trick to keeping them tied?”

  “Letting your Novice tend to them, I’m guessing,” Lizabeth said dryly.

  “Exactly.” The other woman smiled at her. “Ah—I think I hear our Novices coming back now. Let’s be hard at work when they come in.”

  Lizabeth bent over the book of Yonnite tort reform obediently but inside she was wondering. Could Mistress Anarrah be right? Could it be that Lone wasn’t just playing a part?

  But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He was much too young for her—she’d been down this road before and it only led to heartache. Still, at the very least, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to play along a little. To pretend to be the Mistress she was supposed to be and let Lone do more for her, as he seemed to want to…

  “Mistress, I’ve got some ice for your lip. May I tend your injury?”

  Lizabeth looked up at him, feeling like she was seeing him in a different light. In the past, she would have thanked him but taken the ice and used it on herself. She would have said, “Don’t worry about me, Lone—I can manage just fine.” Because that was how she’d been conditioned by society to be. She was a liberated, independent, successful woman—a self-sufficient woman. I’m an adult—I’m my own person—I can handle things myself.

  And yet, looking into Lone’s pale gray eyes, she knew he wanted to do this for her—he wanted to treat her wound and help heal her. Just like he wanted to help her and do for her in a thousand different other ways. Why was he like this? Why did he want so badly to do things for her—to serve her?

  Years of pop-psychology crowded into her mind. Maybe his primary love language is acts of service? Maybe he’s trying to compensate in some way for never having a twin? Maybe he’s just one of those people who needs to be needed…

  But did it really matter why Lone was this way? Why he longed to serve? It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone with his desire to obey her. As Lizabeth studied his big, muscular body and his earnest gray eyes, he reminded her of a knight on bended knee, waiting before his queen, willing and ready to serve and protect her from any danger.

  Not that I ever thought of myself as a queen—or a goddess, she thought dryly. But even if she wasn’t either of those things, maybe it was time to act her part and be a proper Mistress.

  “Yes, Lone,” she said, nodding to him. “You can treat my lip. Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure, Mistress,” he murmured, kneeling beside her chair so that he could reach her better.

  He treated her lip with the crushed ice he had brought in a clean towel, carefully blotting the blood and waiting until the swelling was a bit less.

  “How is it now, Mistress?” he asked. “Are you feeling any better?”

  Lizabeth smiled at him. “Much. Thank you, Lone.” She touched her lip carefully with one fingertip and winced. “It’s still a little tender but better than it was.”

  Lone studied her lip, seeming to hesitate for a moment.

  “Mistress,” he began…and then stopped himself.

  “What is it Lone? You have something to say?” she asked.

  “I just wish…wish that I might heal you completely,” Lone murmured.

  Lizabeth frowned. “But how could you? I thought only Blood Kindred could heal—and they only heal their mates, right?”

  “True, but maybe you have heard of a healing compound developed aboard the Mother Ship by Yipper the Tolleg surgeon?”

  “No, I haven't—what kind of healing compound?” Lizabeth asked.

  “The kind that can be taken by any male Kindred who wishes to have the same healing abilities as a Blood Kindred,” Lone said. “The ability to heal the female…they care for.”

  Lizabeth started to bite her lip…and then winced.

  “Are you telling me you’ve had this compound?”

  He nodded. “I have. And if you’ll allow me to kiss and lick your lip for just a bit, I believe I can heal your wound completely.”

  Lizabeth’s heart was already starting to pound. She remembered how much better her red and swollen nipples had felt after he sucked them—was the compound he had taken the reason his tongue was so soothing?

  “But why would you take the compound in the first place, Lone?” she asked. “I thought…thought you weren’t involved with anyone.”

  “I’m not. I took it for you, Mistress,” he murmured. “On the chance that I might one day be able to help you or heal you.”

  “Well…” Lizabeth took a deep breath. “It seems now is your chance. Yes, Lone—you may heal my lip.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.” Leaning towards her he cupped her face in his big, warm hands and pulled her to him. Lizabeth closed her eyes as she felt his tongue—warm and soft and gentle—sliding over her hurt lower lip. She couldn’t help the sudden rush of heat she felt when he sucked it gently into his mouth, kissing her tenderly as though he wanted to do nothing else in the world.

  “Lone,” she whispered at last, when he drew back. They looked at each other for a moment, gazes locked, and then Lizabeth threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair and drew him in again for another kiss—this one not so gentle.

  Lone’s mouth was hungry this time—urgent with the same desire she felt building inside herself. Gods, she shouldn’t be doing this but it felt so good—so right! So—

  “Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Lizabeth back to reality with a thud. Drawing away from Lone, she looked up and saw that Karx was standing over them.

  “What do you want?” Lone gave the Mistress Superior’s Novice an unfriendly look. “I was healing my Mistress.”

  The other male’s eyes flashed and he scowled at Lone.

  “Didn’t look like any fucking healing I’ve ever seen. Anyway, I’ve come to take you to your mandatory deportment class. Mistress Superior’s orders.”

  “What?” Lizabeth was instantly suspicious. “You can’t take Lone away from me—I need him here to help me with my studies.”

  “Oh, he’s not going alone, Mistress—you’re summoned too,” Karx growled. “You’re the one as has to train him, after all. Under the Mistress Superior’s supervision, of course.”

  “Go on, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah said, smiling. “I was about to wrap up class for today—it’s nearly dinner time after all and you’ve done wonderfully well. We can resume again tomorrow.”

  “All right.” Lizabeth sighed and closed the heavy tort book she’d barely gotten to look at. “I guess we’ll go.”

  “This way.” Karx jerked his bushy, bearded chin towards the doorway. “My Mistress is waiting for us.”

  Lizabeth started to get up…and then realized the black ribbons around her calves and ankles were still untied. She had never fixed them after her tumble down the rolling staircase. She started to fix them herself…and then stopped.

  “Wait a minute,” she said to Karx and then turned to Lone. “Lone, my ribbons have come untied again. Would you fix them, please?”

  His eyes were half-lidded as he answered.

  “Yes, Mistress. With the greatest pleasure.” Kneeling before her again, he took her left foot and placed it on the top of his thigh. Then he bent over her, reworking the ribbons carefully until he finished with a neat bow at the top of her knee. He did the same to the other ribbon and then bent to place a soft, hot kiss against the top of Lizabeth’s thigh. When he straightened up, his gray eyes were half-lidded. “There,
Mistress—you should be all right now.”

  Lizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat at that look in his eyes.

  “Yes, Lone,” she managed to say. “Thank you.”

  “Are the two of you coming or not? My Mistress does not like being kept waiting,” Karx growled.

  “We’re coming,” Lizabeth said, at last breaking away from her Novice’s intense gaze. “Come Lone—we’d better go.”

  “As you wish, Mistress,” he answered, rising gracefully to his feet.

  “I’ll see the two of you at dinner tonight,” Lady Anarrah said, smiling. “Have a lovely time.”

  Privately, Lizabeth thought that if they were having a private class with the sour and contentious Mistress Superior, a “lovely time” was not in the cards for her and Lone. But there was nothing they could do but follow Karx out of Mistress Anarrah’s vast law library and down the twisting stone corridor again.

  Fifteen

  Lone could still taste her mouth—could still feel the way she trembled against him when he kissed her lip and healed her. And then he had been allowed to fix her ribbons and stroke her lovely legs…Gods, his cock was throbbing for release inside the loose black trousers he wore but it was a pleasurable kind of ache. A sexual need born of his love for his lady and he wouldn’t have traded it for a dozen releases.

  He followed her down the corridor, feasting his eyes on her lush behind, as Karx led them to yet another part of the Tower. This area seemed to be sacrosanct to the Mistress Superior herself. At least, it was much fancier than the rest of the rooms and corridors he had seen so far. The walls were rich with mineral deposits—streaks of precious metals and gems worn smooth by centuries of water rushing against them until they had been drained and polished to a high shine.

  But there was one area—down at the end of the hallway—where the shining wall was covered by a large, unsightly tarp. It flapped noisily against the wall, which was what drew Lone’s attention to it in the first place.