Thursday, November 17, 2016

October 17

This morning I woke up in my ridiculously luxurious sleeping room in Clan Aslada’s home and thought I must be dreaming. It was obvious I’d somehow found my way into a fairytale what with the immense cloud-soft curtained bed, soft-as-down sheets, window-vids showing an impossibly beautiful view of hills and lake with drils singing sweetly. The artwork was rich and fabulous, as were the handwoven rugs scattered over the marbled floor. At first I thought I had a lady-in-waiting ready to attend me when I saw the long, sapphire-blue gown at the corner of my vision – a headless lady-in-waiting. Fairytale turned into nightmare until I realized the gown was hanging without a body inside it. Sweet prophets, didn’t that scare the snot out of me for a moment.

I rose to see a tray of fluffy pastries and a carafe of coffee on the table next to the sleeping mat. Well. Wasn’t that nice. But who had been in here while I was sleeping to leave it? And was the gown for me? It was fancier than anything I’ve ever worn – but I realized it was in keeping with how the Kalquorian women dressed on a daily basis. It wasn’t sized for a Kalquorian though. It was obviously intended for me. Was I supposed to wear it like a Kalquorian, like I do slacks or a skirt? Or were we going somewhere special?

I was discombobulated by waking up in this place of wealth and prestige, but more off-balance by all that had gone on the day and night before. What a whirlwind, not the least of which came when Clan Aslada ravished me – jeez, I’m still thinking in fairytale terms, aren’t I? Ravish. Ha, what an over-the-top word that is. But doesn’t it fit after what happened yesterday? Three different times? No sex, because Clan Aslada had decided to operate with the same slow build of anticipation that Clan Seot had. All on their own, without me requesting it. However, Kalquorian ‘slow’ still means getting kissed and touched until I orgasm. Let’s not talk about how many pairs of pants those boys went through, or how guilty I feel over being satisfied while they were left wanting.

But they instigated each time it happened. They did so with no expectation of getting anything in return. I’d be sitting there, talking and laughing with them when suddenly they were all over me again. Driving every sane thought out of my brain, exploring me, making me wet, making me hot, making me come for them. They could have fucked me each and every time and I wouldn’t have said no. They were too overwhelming and exciting to me. But they made no effort to take what I would have gladly given.

Hey, I challenge anyone to not want to bonk Clan Aslada when they’ve decided a girl needs to be serviced. Any gal who could resist would be a much better woman than I.

I shook my head, clearing away the sleepy cobwebs that had me musing over my surroundings and three entirely too-fuckable men instead of checking on Anrel. I threw back the sheets and put my feet on the floor.

As if on cue, Meyso walked in, cuddling my baby girl. “Mother’s awake,” he told my happy child.

“Good morning, sweetest girl,” I cooed as he set her in my arms. Anrel squealed to see me, waving her little fists with joyful excitement.

“She’s fed and in good spirits,” the Imdiko reported. “I thought she wanted you, so we came in to check if you were ready to see her.”

“I’m always ready for my Anrel,” I sighed, looking into her bright purple eyes. “Who had the good sense to bring me coffee?”

“Me,” Meyso grinned, proud as he could be. “Here, let me help you.”

If waking up in a fairytale wasn’t odd enough, Meyso insisted on feeding me the pastries and holding the coffee for me to sip while I cuddled Anrel. I’d had a little experience before with doting Kalquorian men. I knew a clan feeding its Matara was the norm for them. Yet Betra and Oses hadn’t done it but once or twice. It felt weird as hell.

I had a lot to wrap my head around today. My attendant drew my bath and fixed my hair for me. That fantasy about being rowed around on the lake? It happened. I didn’t have a parasol, but there was a kind of cloth tent erected to keep the sun off me and Anrel. I was cajoled into wearing that gown for no particular reason other than what it’s the style of Kalquorian women. It turned out to be one of a dozen such frocks Clan Aslada had bought for me.

Each meal, including the picnic by the lake, I was fed from the clan’s fingers. They and their servants fussed over me like I was some dainty damsel. Anrel too. It was over the top, and I kept thinking someone was going to jump out and slam a cream pie in my face at any moment, the punchline to some elaborate joke. But I could tell that to Clan Aslada, this was all perfectly natural. They were the same relaxed, easygoing trio I’d met the day before. Relaxed, easygoing, and insanely rich with the attitude a woman needed to be waited on hand and foot. I had few moments when I was allowed to raise a pinkie on my own behalf.

It was weird. Fun and horribly indulgent too. But weird. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of lifestyle. Not that I’m crossing Clan Aslada off the list. Not for one second. They are wonderful. And what they do to me when we’re private – that’s a lotta ‘oh hell yes’. It’s just that we might have to make a few adjustments. I am capable of choosing my own clothes, taking care of my child, and running my own tub full of water, thanks so much.

So I played princess today, starring in my fantasy fairytale. Tomorrow, things will start changing. For one thing, Jaon approved Larten’s picks for my training. They’ll be here tomorrow to start work, and then I can get back to being little old grubby Shalia, everyday gal from Small Town, Earth.

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