Monday, November 21, 2016
Busy, busy day. After playing the grand lady in my gown all day yesterday, it was something of a relief to put on my workout gear. The urge to say stuff like, “Prithee, young varlet” or “Fall back to yonder castle” was happily left behind.
I started off with Nobek Genner for basic strength and fitness training. Since Jaon has such an elaborate gym in the home, we were able to use it to full advantage. I like Genner. He’s an older guy who used to work in a training camp. He’s got a face like old, cracked leather, and his hair is more gray than black. He’s tough and doesn’t put up with any slacking off. That’s not saying he’s insulting like that jerkface Resan was. All it takes to get my butt in gear with him is a lifted eyebrow and a derisive, “Is that the best you can do?” delivered in an ice-cold tone of voice. I’ve learned I don’t like that one statement, because Genner can put a book’s worth of disappointment and disgust in it. After I heard it the second time and had that awful ‘I’m worthless’ feeling in my gut, I made sure he didn’t say it again. Genner is the master of the guilt-trip, no two ways about it. He left without much comment other than, “Run two miles tomorrow and stretch. I’ll see you in two days.” I have no idea how pathetic he thinks I am, but at least he's coming back.
I was wringing with sweat when Nobek Emad came in for fight training minutes after Genner’s departure. He was a little younger, but not by much. He’s got a super nasty scar down the middle of his face, like someone tried to split his skull in half with a sword. Even without that, he’d be as pretty as a truckload of baboon butts. Still, the man moves with the grace of a ballet dancer. Since Oses taught me a lot of basic moves, Emad wants me to learn how to fight with better balance. “Nothing will fuck up a perfectly good offense than falling on your ass because you’ve got shit for equilibrium,” he informed me. His language is as pretty as he is, with about every other word profanity. He knows his fighting though, and I like the guy. Maybe I’m overloading on the elegance of Clan Aslada’s gracious home, because I felt comfortable around scarred Emad with his potty mouth.
Last came Nobek Toleca, the blade trainer. He was something else to look at. Tall, elegant, light on his feet. Not on the level of Candy’s Nobek Studman, but a beautiful creature. Not beautiful as in ‘Shalia would bang him in a red-hot minute’ beautiful. More like ‘that’s a fucking tiger who is on its way to rip my throat out’ beautiful. As in, I wouldn’t fuck with that even if it was in a cage. Toleca scares the hell out of me. He’s not happy with just the scars he’s received in fights. He purposely gives himself scars in the form of cutting symbols that represent opponents he’s gotten the best of. His legs, chest, and arms are covered in these crazy hieroglyphics that he’s carved into himself. They aren’t crude carvings either, but real artwork – if scarification can be considered such. It’s riveting. Savage. Astounding.
We went over some knife work so he could gauge my level of skill. He insisted I use my real knife against him while he used a long, thin switch that stung like ant bites when he tagged me with it. There was no doubt I worked with a real master at the craft of fighting with blades. Even if Toleca freaks me out, I look forward to all he can teach me. And he’s not stingy with praise when it’s earned. I managed to get in a cut, slicing a thin line along his waist that immediately brightened with blood. I was horrified, but Toleca boomed wild laughter, exulting in my accomplishment. “Excellent! You are a fighter! Let’s go again!”
I ended my workout exhausted but happy that Larten had found these trainers for me. As long as Toleca doesn’t insist on me cutting trophies into my body, I think they’ll be perfect.
Jaon was present the whole time I worked with each man. He exercised with his machines but kept a close eye on things. Sometimes I thought he looked impressed. Often he scowled, as if feeling jealous or threatened. I don’t know why. Genner is distant and all business. Emad is a hot mess to look at and listen to. As for the terrifying Toleca, it’s damned hard not to put my knife in his chest and claim self-defense on general principals.
Jaon was much happier when they were all gone for the day. “Are they adequate for you?” he asked me.
“They know their stuff,” I said. I gave him a naughty wink. “Better be nice to me. I think they’ll have me trained well enough to kick your butt in a week or two.”
He laughed at that, his good humor restored. “Maybe they will. If it comes to that, don’t tell Meyso. He’ll want training too.”
I couldn’t stop my attendant from readying my bath for me. I wanted a quick shower, but he already had the deep basin filled, perfumed, and ready to go. After such a hard workout, it looked a little too good to pass up – plus I would have felt bad to refuse it after he’d gone to the trouble. So I had a decadent soak.
I did manage to bypass the gown hung up for me to wear. I tossed on one of my old but perfectly nice blouse and skirt ensembles. I’ll dress up tomorrow when Jaon’s parents come for a visit. And yes, I’m wigging out about that. Hopefully they’ll be as kind as Betra’s parent clan.
After I’d gotten cleaned up and dressed, I got to spend time with Aslada. He told me about some legislation he has planned, why it was important to him, and how he needed to win critics to his side. We brainstormed ideas for vids that would promote his views. I was glad he didn’t want to do a lot of what I call ‘talking head’ presentations where he’s on vid and droning on forever. We had some pretty dynamic concepts and even dramatizations. I have to say, it felt good to get back into a working frame of mind. I’m looking forward to working on our first project, pushing for a Matara Complex on this continent.
Meyso ran off to the clinic for a couple of hours to go over plans with his team about my mother’s surgery. Mom’s doing well as they take her out of heavy stasis. The surgery is happening in two days. I don’t know if I’m more relieved to get it over with or anxious about the unknowns heading my way soon.
In more intimate matters, I am about ready to explode as far as the sexual games this clan is playing with me. At one point, Jaon put me in a corner and had my clothes half off, mauling me in such a way that I begged to be fucked. He teased horribly, taking his cocks out and rubbing them against my slit. But no penetration. He made me come hard as hell and covered my mound with his pleasure. It was good, but damn it, I want to have sex for real. The worst part is, I think they enjoy making me so frustrated. They like controlling me that way. That kind of power must be intoxicating to have, because they use each opportunity they get to enjoy it. I feel like the walking personification of a libido.
I hate it and love it all at the same time. Somehow, the building anticipation is enthralling, and I almost hate to see it end. But I REALLY want the whole thing right now. I wish I knew when we’ll finally make love. How amazing is it going to be? These three days have been one long bout of foreplay.
Anrel lacks for nothing and seems delighted with her life here. The staff, particularly her manny Snoy, dote on her. Her formula and cereal and pureed foods are made from scratch by the head chef himself. The clan also adores her. They ordered amazing one-of-a-kind toys, handmade on Joshada, which showed up this morning. The four of us spent hours playing with the baby. Even Jaon was on the floor with Anrel, making her laugh as he pushed her around on a wooden ronka on wheels.
I think we’re all fitting in quite nicely with each other. So far, so good.