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33
AMELIE
Iwalk into Rhakis' office with my head bowed. I don't want to show any signs of defiance here. My life may be horrible, but it can always get worse, especially in a place like L'amouer.
"Amelie, it's lovely to see you this evening. How are you faring?"
"Very well, thank you. And you?"
The look in the manager's eye hints at one of the ways my life could get so much worse. We exchange pleasantries because that's expected of me, but I know what he really wants. As if I needed any more than the lustful stare to tell, he lets his robe fall open, revealing his massive erection.
"Frustrated."
Any other girl called in here would take this as the signal to bring him to bliss. And while his nakedness and lichenous stare make my skin crawl, I know he would never dare to touch me. I'm too valuable, untouched and pure.
I'm one of L'amouer's 'select stocks.' At a young age, with a little bit of divination magic, they select those who will grow up to be the most desirable. We are sequestered away from the rest, and our training is a much different matter. While others are taught how to perform carnal acts, we are trained in dancing, music, singing, and other forms of entertainment to keep our dark elf masters entertained in between whatever debauchery they have planned for us.
The manager gives a sharp whistle, and then another woman comes into the room, crawling on all fours like a dog. I keep my face serene, but my heart aches for her. Honey wasn't selected like I was. I don't know when the training starts for the others, but by the time I met her, she already had the lifeless stare of someone who begs for death, knowing they'll never get it.
I'm also ignorant of exactly what hell she's gone through. I only know of mine. But while the exact nature of our torments is different, we both hate this place and hate men like Rhakis with every fiber of our being. I don't know if mutual, seething hatred of someone is the best basis for a friendship, but it's how our companionship started.
Honey crawls over to Rhakis and starts licking up and down his cock before letting the head pass between her lips. While his sneer never falters, he swallows hard as she manages to take far more of him into her mouth than should be possible. These are the things the girls like Honey are trained to do. For her, this is rote. And while she makes enthusiastic sounds, acting as though his cock in her mouth brings her to ecstasy, I'm sure everyone in the room knows it's an act.
It's something that will be expected of me when I'm sold, but to maintain my purity, my lessons have never been hands-on, so to speak. I've been made to watch it often. I've seen enough blow jobs to know that Honey's technique is flawless, wet, and sloppy, but not excessively so. Her breath control is admirable, something that makes me wonder how well she'd do playing a flute made of wood instead of flesh.
I have trained on illusions, and to be sure that no one is tempted to trick me, most of those I've cast myself. They're minor illusions, but I'm apparently quite adept. At the illusions. I don't know how well I can suck cock. Ephemeral magic constructs don't naturally spasm and twitch as their crown starts to brush the back of your throat.
But the praise for fellating phantasms does little to stop the way my stomach turns at the thought of actually having to do it to a real person, to whichever dark elf happens to purchase me for the express purpose of deflowering me.
But even as expertly as Honey sucks his cock, Rhakis' eyes stay fixed on me. I'd have to be a complete fool not to understand that he's imagining it's me on my knees in front of him.
Honey gags slightly and backs off, but that simply won't do for Rhakis. He grabs her head, forcing it down on his cock further, and from my angle, I can just make out the way his cock makes her throat expand as he pushes more and more into her.
Honey's face is starting to turn blue. Her eyes and nose are running, and I think for a moment that Rhakis is going to actually suffocate her with his cock, either because he's too busy watching me to know that Honey is suffering, or it's the suffering that gets him off. Honey tries feebly to push away, but he just holds her there.
I mustn't move. I want to rush to her. Beat him back, pull her free and give her air, but our lives are not our own. Just as her eyes start to fade, Rhakis pulls out, and while Honey gasps for breath, he sprays his cum on her face and breasts.
But he doesn't even notice her. His eyes are locked on me as he licks his lips in carnal hunger.
"You're now twenty years old. The time has come to serve your purpose. Prepare to be auctioned."
Even though I knew this day was coming, and I was almost certain this was the reason he called me in here, the word auction hits me like a blow to my chest, driving the breath from my lungs, causing me to gasp.
I have to figure out a way to escape. But how? I've been trying to figure out how to leave this damn place since I could form conscious thought, and nothing has ever presented itself to me.
"You must prepare yourself to perform for your audience."
My head snaps up, and I look at him, half-dazed.
"Perform what? How?"
If they want me to sing or dance, even something salacious, that would be preferable to having to display other skills. They certainly wouldn't have me have sex with a real person in front of a gathering of dark elves, but I might be ordered to do something unseemly with an illusion.
Suddenly, Rhakis is on his feet. He moves so fast Honey doesn't have time to move, and he kicks her out of the way. I open my mouth to scream. In anger or in fear, I don't know and don't have the time to even figure that out before he pushes something into my mouth. I feel it burn as it dissolves on my tongue.
The fiery warmth spreads down my throat and into my belly before spreading out to my entire body. The heat starts to pull in places. Around my lips, behind my ears, the insides of my wrists, behind my knees, but most intensely my nipples and between my legs.
"What did you give me?" I ask. But it's an automated response. A question that was formed in my mind and on its way to my burning lips before the warmth had finished spreading. I don't know where it comes from, just that everyone calls it Heat for the sensation and the effect. It could be a plant or maybe just pure, perverted magic distilled.
