That she could see, no hair remained on anyone, anywhere. She had never felt so naked and exposed in all her young one hundred and fifty-three years of life. Amean's sister, Simvanna, was also just as bare but Amean could still see the familiar defiant spark in Simvanna's deep blue eyes.

Once the new slaves had been sorted according to where they would be put to use, Amean, Simvanna, and twenty-nine other male and female vassals were taken to the house dormitory. The female house slaves were given very short, gauze-thin dresses to wear while the males wore only breeches made of the same fabric and all were given a pair of sandals. Despite the deadly conditions of the mines, Amean sometimes envied the slaves who worked deep in the bowels of the mountain. "At least they get to wear real clothes and shoes," she whispered to Simvanna one night, just as the pair was drifting into a dreamless sleep.

All house slaves shared their beds with at least one other and some even bunked together by choice. It was typical for one to be just getting out of bed to resume his or her duties as another would be climbing in to get some rest. Despite their captivity, Amean did have to admit that she and Simvanna (as well as the other residential vassals, at least) were treated well enough and not subjected to any punishment greater than necessary.

As she approached her mistress's throne, Amean kept her eyes averted to her feet then stopped as the bottom step of the dais. "Yes, mistress?" Amean asked in a quiet voice.

L'tirashin let her slave wait. After all, that was a slave's singular purpose in life: to wait on whatever whims their mistress or master expressed. Starting at the top of Amean's bald head, L'tirashin's eyes slowly traced all of her slave's pleasant curves. Up and down Amean's pointed ears, down her delicate, narrow neck, and over her shapely shoulders. The Temptress allowed her gaze to linger for a few moments as her lusty gaze carressed the small swell of Amean's breasts. The sweat covering Amean's body caused her whisper-thin dress cling to her, allowing a nearly unobstructed view of the treasures beneath. Amean's aureoles were correspondingly small though her nipples already looked slightly erect. While they were only about half the size of her own, L'tirashin was pleased nonetheless and went on assessing her slave.

Amean's narrow waist and hips indicated she had yet to experience the "joys of motherhood"---a situation L'tirashin was sure that could soon be remedied. L'tirashin noticed Amean's arms and legs to be remarkably well-toned and conditioned but, for a moment, the reason escaped her. Then an amused smile played at the corners of L'tirashin's full lips. Ahhh, yes, she thought. 'This one was a dancer when she was captured. Mmmmmmm. . .I haven't had one of those in a while.'

"Come here!" L'tirashin said as she motioned for Amean to mount the steps.

Fear swelled in Amean's chest. She was suddenly filled with an almost irresistible urge to run as fast and as far as she could away from the Night One, but she knew that doing so would mean her death. She had been present when a band of foolhardy adventurers had made their way into the keep only the previous year and stood where she herself was now.

They never had a chance.

As if the wall were an extension of the Temptress, Amean watched in horror as the demoness annihilated them instantly as hundreds of arcane energy bolts tore them to pieces. This the Night One did without even moving a finger.

Terrified, Amean did as she was commanded and slowly ascended the steps. Had she not already been sweating due to the heat within the keep, Amean would have surely started just then. As she climbed the steps, the elven slave felt she were walking many miles---and all of them up a steep hill. Finally, Amean stood a mere arm span in front of L'tirashin and it was all Amean could do to just remain standing.

The Temptress's smile suddenly became even more wicked. Her slave's fear was so palpable that the demoness could smell it as easily as she could see Amean trembling as she stood before her. A rush of warmth washed over L'tirashin. Although it suffused throughout her body, she felt it most acutely in her hot and very wet pussy.

When L'tirashin got to her feet, Amean swooned. In an instant, Amean was scooped up in her mistress's arms. Giving her slave no time to recover, L'tirashin clamped her lips wetly to Amean's and pushed her tongue into the startled elf's mouth.

At first, Amean resisted but, as soon as her mistress's unexpected sexual advances were revealed to be her true intentions, Amean began to respond. Though she was a bit unsure for the first few moments, she found herself becoming amenable, pushing her tongue past the Night One's and into her hot and hungry mouth. Amean's hands also seemed anxious to join in on the pleasure and were soon caressing L'tirashin's dark skin.

It was L'tirashin who gently broke away from their kissing embrace after the pair had been entwined for several minutes. Holding Amean's face affectionately between her hands, L'tirashin whispered in a breathy voice, "Pleasure me."

Amean smiled sweetly at her mistress. Leaning in, Amean started kissing and nibbling on L'tirashin's neck. Her mistress's ebony skin was noticeably hot to the touch. It was not long before Amean felt her own body's heat increase in response to what she was doing to the demoness. While Amean was not a woman-lover, she was also no stranger to pleasuring another woman. In fact, she and Simvanna still indulged in such acts of "sisterly love" whenever they were able to be together. They delighted in those stolen moments and had been doing so ever since they were elflings, playing amid the tall and ancient trees deep in the Aelque Forest of Deth'el.

Wanting to be as free and unfettered as her mistress, Amean slipped her dress down over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The look of pure lust shining in the Night One's glowing amber eyes brought a smile to Amean's pouty lips.

Amean slowly kissed, nibbled, licked, and sucked her way down one side of L'tirashin's neck then up the other. As she got near her mistress's similarly pointed ears, Amean felt a pang of longing when she smelled the light, sweet scent of L'tirashin's hair. Forcing her feelings back down, Amean started nipping sensuously on the Temptress's left earlobe. When a moan of delight escaped L'tirashin's lips, Amean teased her by lightly flicking the tip of her tongue across her mistress's ear.

Amean's skill pleasantly surprised L'tirashin. Every spot where Amean's hot mouth and tongue had touched tingled, sending wave after wave of excitement directly to her already sodden pussy. Unable to help herself any longer, L'tirashin brought up a hand and cupped one of Amean's small breasts. After a few firm squeezes, she started to roll and pinch the slowly stiffening nipple. A soft sigh in L'tirashin's ear let her know her own ministrations were hardly in vain as her libidinous slave continued pleasing her.

L'tirashin's other hand soon found Amean's bare thigh then slowly slid its way up until it encountered the slightly fleshy folds of Amean's smooth and hairless cunt. Back and forth L'tirashin rubbed, always just missing the moist slit running between her slave's thickening labia. Deciding to give Amean a thrill, L'tirashin pressed on her love button.

Thoroughly stimulated by what her mistress was doing to her, Amean could not resist grinding her pussy against L'tirashin's hand. Amean's fear had almost completely vanished. In its place was an aching lust and a passion ignited fire in her loins begging to be extinguished. Her own hands followed the Temptress's lead; one hand on a breast, the nipple between her fingers while the other massaged L'tirashin's mound of black, bushy pubic hair.

Most of the slaves, whether male or female, human, dwarf, ork, elf, or any one of Tiaceor's other races had been on either the receiving or giving end (or both) of L'tirashin's attentions at one time or another. For the long minutes their mistress and her slave pleasured each other, the rest household slaves present watched the goings on with a mixture of envy and relief.

Though not Simvanna

The willful elf was succeeding quite well at hiding her disgust and jealousy at the sexual spectacle happening only a short distance away. Such flagrant, public, sexual displays were unheard of in even the most liberal of Deth'el's courts, where love and beauty were worshipped just as devoutly as were the gods. And that the Night One's attentions were centered on Amean was almost too much for Simvanna to take. If any woman was going to sex her sister, it should be her, not their so-called mistress---despite the Temptress holding their lives quite literally in the palms of her taloned hands.

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