Daemon & Sunny: Prequel

The bidding increments jumped back up into the hundreds. Eight thousand. Nine thousand. Sunny watched as two of the male bidders dropped out. The woman spoke with her companion, murmuring in the man’s ear. Sunny, watching them, suddenly could hear the quietly murmured words…though they were several yards away.

“…What do you think, Jammis? Does she look trainable enough for my establishment?”

The man eyed Sunny’s dignified posture. “She doesn’t look passionate enough to fully train…and not spirited enough for anyone to enjoy breaking. If the bidding goes much higher…”

The woman was a Madam, Sunny realized. She looked at the next buyer. She didnot like the glitter of anticipated cruelty in his eyes, and shifted her gaze away, to the third one. He was speaking with his table companion, too, as the bidding dropped down to smaller increments again. Again, she could hear their words.

“…Ten thousand is a bit much to pay for a concubine, though she is magnificent.”

A concubine—better to be a concubine, Sunny thought,than a whoreslave or…or a plaything for that one. The chances of good treatment and eventual escape are better!

“She is unique, Ambassador,” the man’s companion pointed out. “She has grace, and bearing. A fitting present for the prince’s coronation. Twelve thousand would not be too much to pay, to get into his favor.”

Yes—bid the twelve thousand! Bid it now, so everyone is shocked into silence! Sunny thought at him, though she wasn’t psychic in any way, and didn’t think the ‘Ambassador’ could hear her hard-willed thoughts himself.

To her surprise, he raised his hand slightly. “Twelve thousand!”

It shocked the room, alright. The slaver repeated the number, looking around the silenced room. “Twelve thousand… Once…twice… Twelve thousand….sold!”

The one with the cruel eyes had dismissed the thought of buying her for that high of a price with only mild disappointment, and the Madam wasn’t going to outbid such a determined jump.

This time, the guard on her left didn’t grab her arm. He held out his hand. Her dignity still shining, her grace courtly, her relief temporary, Sunny placed her hand over his and let him escort her from the auction stage. So long as she pretended she was some Great Lady from the Imperium’s past, she could pretend she hadn’t just been sold to become the sexual present of some prince, and maintain her dignity. He led her down a different hall this time, his companion following behind, and into a room where the two guards seated her and stood watch over her. They waited fifteen minutes at most, then the door entered and the man that had bought her strode in.

Sunny remained seated—she wasn’t sure if her legs would work immediately, because it suddenly hit her this man owned her. He owned her now; certainly he had the small controlbox to her collar in his hand, for he stopped in front of her, frowned down at her, and jabbed the button. She gritted her teeth against the short, sharp spasm of pain.

“As you can see, I now own you,” the man said without much preamble. “You have two choices. Either you can obey and cooperate…or you can suffer.” He jabbed the button again, holding it for a little longer. Sunny gasped and grabbed at the collar—all that got her was pain in her fingers where they were inserted under the flexible, thick, ribbon-like edge, as well as pain radiating out from her neck. He released the button and regarded her. “I would prefer that you cooperate. Failure to cooperate will result in punishment. Cooperation, however,” he added, thumb hovering over the button, then shifting aside deliberately, “will result in more positive treatment. Kinder treatment. Do you understand?”

She looked up at him and pictured just for a brief moment doing to him what she had done to the suckerbug that had crawled into the living quarters of the dig encampment back on Tarkat II. She didn’t care that she was barefoot now; it was still a lovely thought. “Yes. I understand.”

“Excellent. I am Lord Crellan, Ambassador of the Ruyikan Empire. I have bought you to present as a gift of my people to Prince Daemon Astorre…or rather, once he is crowned, the new King of Astorr,” the ambassador informed her. “You will become one of his concubines. If you perform well in his bed, he will look with favor upon me. If you do not, he will look upon me with disfavor.” Lord Crellan narrowed his eyes. “If it is the latter…youwill suffer from my own disfavor, as well as His Highness’s displeasure. I have a certain…influence in the Astorran Court.”

Sunny got the impression he meant ‘spies’.

“The life of a concubine isn’t all that bad,” he continued smoothly. “I understand His Highness’s reputation is favorable in such matters, and as there are over a hundred concubines in thesaedaof his palace, you shouldn’t be bothered all that often. As opposed to, oh, having been bought by a Pleasure House. Or someone with barbarically cruel tastes. Which can still be arranged,” the ambassador warned her. “Cooperation will get you the greatest number of comforts; I suggest you follow that course.”

He looked over his shoulder at a pair of guards dressed in clothes similar to his point-sleeved, braid-decorated jacket and breeches, if much more modest in decoration and quality. Before the guards could come for her, Sunny rose and followed the ambassador of her own free will. Now was not the time to escape, not while she was still within the grounds of the slave house. Nor was there a chance to escape outside, for they entered an attatched parking garage, where she was herded into a hoverlimo, the same one the ambassador was riding in, the two Ruyikan guards keeping close to her to make sure she couldn’t escape.

Lord Crellan studied the woman. She was indeed an incredible find, unusual enough to be exotic. His decision at the last minute to find a better concubine, one that was a virgin to fit with Astorran tradition since it didn’t matter among his own people, even the exorbitant price he had found himself paying, was worth it. He hoped. He’d paid enough to assassinate the former Astorran king and his firstborn heir, because they had been stubborn about aligning their empire with his own. The queen of Ruyikan was recently widowed, and interested in the seven worlds that the Astorrans ruled over, interested in adding them to the eleven that had come under her sway with her last marriage alliance. If the new king of the Astorrans wouldn’t sign the binding treaties that were going to be proposed to him, then the bachelor prince might be able to be swayed towards a merger through marriage. He’d heard the prince liked women quite well; first the ambassador would try softening him up with this one, putting the prince into a favorable mood towards Crellan. If that didn’t help, he would try less pleasant, less civilized means to acquire what his queen wanted.

“It is a two-week journey to the heart of the Astorran systems,” he said, addressing the quietly sitting woman as the hoverlimo headed for the spaceport. The Astorran Empire was associated with the Imperium, but towards its border. There was another set of allied systems between it and the Ruyikan Empire, and once Queen Maedra had Astorra in her grasp, the worlds between the two would fall more easily, carving a fair chunk out of the side of the dying Imperium. “In that time,” he continued, “you will learn how to behave, according to Astorran customs. You will also be expected to study certain sexual techniques through the materials that will be provided to you, so that you will not be a disappointment to His Highness.

“If you attempt to escape while you are still within my ownership, my guards have been ordered to kill you rather than bother to take you alive. Do you understand?”

Okay…so escaping will have to wait until we get to Astorra, and I’m handed over. And the longer I behave and obey, the more lax their security will be, she added, counselling patience. It wasn’t the sex she objected to; if she had to, she would go through with it, though Sundrea came from a world that strictly regulated sexual contact to coincide with the cycles of their natural, bodily rhythms, as a part of Craida’s religion and its people’s religious duty. It was the slavery she would not stand still for. Sunny wasn’t going to get herself killed in the attempt, however; she valued her life more than that.While I’m alive, I have hope, and while I live, there’s a chance to escape. “…I understand.”

Her calm, quiet dignity drew out a speck of reluctant respect—at least the woman wasn’t kicking and screaming, or weeping. He eyed her, wished for a moment he could risk taking her himself, if it weren’t for that virginity thing Astorran custom insisted on, then continued. “One more thing.” He smiled slightly. Briefly. “You may not have realized it yet…but you are a slave. You are athing, and I own you. I do not care what your name was before. I own everything about you, including your name…and your name is now ‘Deena’.”

Sunny said nothing, just shrugged. She looked out the window at the buildings passing by, enjoyed the soft leather that was sticking to her mostly bare skin, and wondered what in Natura’s name had happened to her freckles…and what had happened to the Matrix after she had been taken away from the box before she could discover if it was linked to the missing Matrix after all.

CHAPTER TWO

Her quarters on board the ambassador’s staryacht were actually comfortable. Tasteful, even, with simple but quality furnishings in the small bedroom and slightly larger, attatched sitting room. She even had two maidservants who made sure to rub crèmes into her skin, brush out her hair a thousand strokes and rub a smoothing salve into it to keep it from frizzing with so much brushing, and to make sure she ate and slept…and studied. Astorran culture was slightly more like the Ancient Imperium than not, especially in its formalities; those, which were within her historical speciality, were easier to master than the parts that were different, and the parts that were different were interesting enough she didn’t mind learning them, for the most part.

The ‘sexual training materials’, however, were another matter. They were predominantly Ruyikan…and very uninspiring. There were three main kinds of position, a maximum of fifteen to twenty at most in variations, the female submissive almost to the point of dormancy. Even as a virgin, Sunny had studied sexual reproduction courses in her primary education years back home, lessons that had been far more imaginative than this stuff. About the only interesting thing were the ‘internal contraction’ exercises, something she hadn’t known a woman could do. For a culture that apparently had sex frequently enough to buy and sell sex slaves, they weren’t very inventive, in her opinion.

Her own culture was a mixture of freedom and rigidity. Nudity was a ritual matter for certain holy days—the conjunction of Craida’s two moons in summer, for instance, which was the painted-nature festival—and clothing worn for protection against the elements, and as addornments. Sex could be undertaken at any time, but certain times of a woman’s month were considered to be better for certain things. The beginning of the month was reserved for ritual sex, encounters associated with prayers for good luck, good health, that sort of thing. The middle of the month was associated with conception and hopes for family, and the end of the month was reserved for pleasuring; a woman’s mense time was considered the only taboo. And sex wasn’t supposed to be undertaken at all until a man or a woman had undergone a religious ceremony purifying their natural spirit for it.

Given that she hadn’t been all that interested in anyone, Sunny had used the excuse that she hadn’t yet gone through the purification ritual to turn away the few men whom had been interested in her that way; a more convincing excuse at times than the real one, which was that she had been so busy with her education, with studying to win and hold her scholarship, she hadn’t had any time for the ritual, let alone the sex.

Her culture at least, for all that it ordained sex for certain things only at certain times, was a lot more inventive than the Ruyikans’.

Her menses started on the third day on board the ship. Which meant when they got to Astorra Prime itself, she would be towards the end of her prayer time, and getting very close to her conception time. That worried her a little. The women of Craida could tell when they were in danger of conception when they didn’t want to get pregnant, aware naturally of their cycles more than most of the inhabitants of other worlds, but as a concubine-slave, she wouldn’t exactly have the right to say ‘no’. Sunny hoped that, if circumstances forced her to have sex, Craida’s Goddess, Natura, would hear her prayers during it to win her freedom.

They arrived the day before the coronation. Clad in a flowing, loose, concealing Ruyikan robe in an unattractive shade of brown, her hair pinned up and covered by a veil, Sunny was escorted among the ambassador’s entourage into the royal palace on Astorra Prime.

The palace was spectacular, with frescos and bas-reliefs and carvings framing stretches of plain, painted wall for contrast, colors everywhere, tiny, intricate details where there were details and lots of contrast between round archs and doors and square walls and vertical pillars. There were also numerous courtyards—they had to walk what felt like two miles from the grand front entrance to the diplomatic wing, which consisted of three stories of balconies on three sides overlooking a blooming orchard. Fruit trees perfumed the air. Each side of each level was one whole interconneted suite, with enough room for the ambassador’s whole party; they were led to the uppermost floor of the central wall. Sunny’s room was small, and shared with the two Ruyikan women who had been attending her all the while.

She was left there while the ambassador and his aides went to the formal reception and dinner. She couldn’t even go onto the balcony, though she could see the garden from the windows looking out onto the balcony. There wasn’t much time for admiring, though, for her body was put through a ritual of oil and mud and scrubbing that probably would have done the preparations for a ritual purification back on Craida proud. She was even hustled into bed at a fairly early hour, to make sure she made up for the difference in day-cycle between shipboard life and the local time, which was a few hours behind, to make sure Sunny got her ‘beauty sleep’.

As much as she wanted to lay awake tossing and turning to have the proverbial haggard look and dark-circled eyes…she fell quickly asleep.

…Day was turning into night. Around the White Dragon, the brilliant light was darkening, but she was not afraid, and continued her bending, her arcing, her searching for her mate. For where else would the Black Dragon reside, but in the darkness, where all was black? It had been a long time since night had turned into day; it was about time day turned into night…

Astorra Prime

Sunny couldn’t shake the feeling that she had dreamed of something important. But the coronation would take place at noon, and she was bathed and oiled and crèmed, massaged and brushed and manicured, garbed and pinned and painted. By the time her two attendants were done, she was allowed only fruit juice for brunch, and that through a straw, to keep from messing up all but the tiniest smudges of her lip glossings. Her hair was styled intricately, with a loose topknot and tiny, looped braids, held in place by golden haircombs; her eyelids had been dusted with gold and aquamarine, her naturally rosy lips needing only a gloss to keep them glistening moistly, and a touch of contouring blush to accent her cheekbones.

Her gown was Astorran in design; it was very fitted, had in fact taken the whole journey to be properly fitted to her curves. The rounded collar was adjusted over her slave collar, the closure fastening down the right side of her breasts, down past her waist and hips, all the way to her right thigh. The skirt fell straight and narrow, the cuffs wristlength and fitted, and her hose opaque and golden cream, hiding all but the rim of freckles around the edges of her face. The slippers were aquamarine, the same color as the gown, matched fairly well to her eyes, and both were decorated by thin scrolling flowers woven in golden thread on the slippers and floor-hemmed gown.

To be able to present her as a ‘gift’, Lord Crellan ordered her covered even more, in a Ruyikan floor-length, full-body veil, opaque and golden, one that covered everything but her eyes and threatened to trip her as she walked to the coronation, surrounded in the center of the ambassador’s entourage. It forced her to take almost shuffling steps, though she held up the front of the veil as much as she could, surreptitiously.

The Grand Hall was just that—grand. Scarlet pillars capped in jade green and gold at capitals and bases. Gothic-pointed arches painted with the sky in its full cycle, from cloud-edged day near the entrance, to silver-starred night over the waiting, gilded throne on its dais a very long walk away. Between the two, with the fresco blending around its edges, was a crystal dome somewhere between the throne and the midpoint of the hall, and she studied it with quick glances, since she had to watch where she was going or risk tripping on her veil.

They were escorted to seats not far from the front. The wait wasn’t too long, though Sunny was beginning to feel the need to get up and pace, to do something since she’d been sitting patiently through her preparations all morning long. When the musicians started playing, and the choir started singing the Astorran anthem in their native tongue instead of the trade tongue of the Imperium, placed across from each other in musician’s alcoves above the pattern-tiled floor, she forced her impatience down, to settle and wait. There were too many people between her and freedom to contemplate flight.

When the warriors strode in, the historian side of her started comparing the ceremony to the coronations of the Emperor and Empress of the Imperium. In that ceremony, too, there was an honorguard, but this one looked to be all male, whereas the Imperium selected its honorguards from among both genders, based solely on ability, which in truth had little to do with strength or size. The first warriors were clad in little more than ornate loincloths, the next ones in trousers, the ones after that wearing vests, and on through what she belatedly recognized were archaic styles of uniform for the Astorran army, one pair for each era as they marched in two columns up the sides of the aisles. They stopped a pace past the front row of chairs brought into the audience hall for the ceremony, and their weapons, ranging from archaic swords and axes at the front of the line, to blasters at the back, were drawn and crossed over their chests, one for each hand.

The man her Astorran etiquette lessons had revealed was the Grand Chamberlain stepped forward and banged his ornate, metal-capped staff against the polished stone floor, just as the anthem ended with a flourish. The man’s voice rang out, echoing well in the accoustics of the hall. “All rise and bow, to His Royal Highness, Prince Daemon Davol Astorre, rightful ruler of Astorra!”

Sunny rose with the rest of them, as the prince in question entered the hall, clad in white: white cloth boots, white trousers, and a fitted white jacket with matching white gloves. Gold braiding and frogging decorated his clothes, contrasting with the tanned skin of his face, and the waist-length fall of his straight black hair. A handsome man. One with something about him, something sensual, so that even in such formal circumstances, he moved with a grace that Sunny found captivating. Looking neither right nor left, he didn’t stop until just a yard from the steps leading to the dais. A woman in a robe, half day-sky, half night-sky, waited for him halfway up the quartet of steps to the throne. She began invoking the god of this world, Astor, to witness this solemn ceremony being performed in the Grand Hall as its prince and future king dropped gracefully to one knee, his head bowed before the forces the high priestess represented. Sunny watched with avid interest, no longer quite so bored.