He let her in, but without a kiss of greeting, or any actual attempt at contact of any kind. Puzzled, she decided he was probably just tired. That was a hard thing to avoid, after working weekends and evenings so much.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to cook anything,” she said apologetically. “I thought maybe we could just order something. The Indian place down the block from me is good and they’ll deliver.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Why?”

“Something just seems… off. Would you rather just cancel for tonight?” She didn’t want him to. It had been close to a week since she’d seen him at all. But if he was going to spend the evening wishing he were alone, it would be better to leave it.

He dropped heavily into his computer chair, looking at her; suddenly uncomfortable, she began to wish, herself, that he were alone and she weren’t here. What was going on?

“Where were you Saturday night?” he asked abruptly.

“What? Min’s husband decided to take her and me and another friend out to dinner and to an 80s bar to hear a live band. He knows someone in the band. Just friendly company. Why?”

“How come you never mentioned anything about Min being married until just recently?”

“Because until recently, she mentioned him a couple of times but I’d never met him. He travels a lot for work, and they were still wrapping up the move here from BC, he’s been dealing with some stuff there. They don’t even live together right now, technically, but they’re obviously really good for each other when they do get time together. What does Min’s marriage have to do with anything?”

“One of the guys I work with saw you Saturday night.”

“Then presumably he also saw Min and Flair and Nik. So?”

“From what he said, you were all over the guy on the dance floor. And kissing another girl.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “Oh, for god’s sake. You’re pissed at me for having fun dancing and getting a little carried away? I might’ve misjudged exactly how much I had to drink, I wasn’t drunk but I might’ve had a bit more than usual, I remember feeling really relaxed and a lot of things being funny.” She didn’t like lying, but she could hardly explain about satyrs.

“From what I heard, it wasn’t just dancing, you were just shy of public sex.”

“Oh, we were not!” That much she was sure of. Playful though Nikandros was, he did respect boundaries, and wouldn’t have allowed it. Besides, Min would unquestionably have intervened. And Flair would have told her.

“Seriously? With the way you’ve been about sex lately—all that stuff about wanting to explore? Decided to try something different? Or is he the one who got you started on that whole kick?”

Jillian blinked, struggling to catch up. “Are you honestly accusing me of cheating on you? With my best friend’s husband?” She tried not to think about paying debts. That was different, and she’d been desperate, first to save her brother, then to keep herself safe. On any real, human, everyday level, she’d been faithful, despite her growing sexual frustration and feeling of disconnection and the available alternatives.

“Or your so-called best friend, or both of them and this other chick too… that’s sure as fuck what it looks like from here. You spend more time at her place than you do at your own.”

“What do you expect me to do?” All the resentment and disappointment she’d been so carefully rationalizing away was, she discovered, still there, and the accusation was enough to make it boil to the surface. “Sit at home every damned night by myself, waiting to see whether you’ll actually have time for dinner and sex, and for that matter, whether you’ll cancel at the last minute even then?”

“You think I’m having fun working all these extra hours? I’m trying to get that promotion so I can actually have a stable future to share with someone special… someone who appreciates it!”

“Oh, bullshit. Anyone who wants your money and your stable future and doesn’t give a crap about being left alone all the time is lying to you and is either going to cheat on you or be secretly miserable. Or she’s just as obsessed and you’ll have to book time for sex a month in advance. You want a stable future with someone, maybe you should try putting even a fraction of the energy into your relationship with her that you put into working. Sixty or more hours a week working… maybe twelve hours a week, tops, with your girlfriend, and part of that is sleeping… I should have noticed weeks ago exactly where I stand in your priorities.”

“I have a career, damn it! One a lot of people would love to have, in a seriously competitive field!”

“Enjoy it.” She fumbled in her purse for her keyring, her hands shaking with anger, and wedged a nail into the split ring so she could get his keys off it. The nail cracked, but she got them free. “Give me the key for my place. Now. And I hope you and your career have a long relationship. Maybe you can find yourself someone who’ll be happy to fuck once a week if you buy her some pretty presents, but don’t count on monogamy.” She dropped his keys on the floor and held out her hand, palm up, waiting.

Savagely, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and freed hers from the others. “I’m not buying this injured self-righteous innocence shit. Fine, go be the tramp you’ve been acting and dressing like lately. Fucking someone else on the side is just way too believable. You are not the person I thought you were.”

“Apparently you thought I was a good little fifties bimbo who always puts her man above all else. I am obviously too much for you to handle. I need someone who’s actually going to be part of the whole relationship. Someone who wants to spend time with me instead of grudgingly finding it here and there, someone who doesn’t call me a tramp for trying to feel good about myself, someone who doesn’t ask me to put on a show for their family like being me is somehow an embarrassment, someone who doesn’t keep breaking promises, and someone who’s interesting and creative in bed!”

“Good luck with that. That’s what guys are like.”

She smiled sweetly at him, closing her hand around her key. “Maybe I’ll try a girlfriend. I bet I could find one who’d be able to satisfy me in bed and treat me like a real person outside of it. Have fun with your own hand and your fantasies about me and Min and her husband and Flair. With how much time you spend at work, don’t hold your breath that you’re going to find a new girlfriend anytime soon.” She spun around, scooped up her overnight bag, and stalked out the door.

From the sidewalk in front of the building, she texted Min. «Can I come over? Need friends.»

Min replied promptly. «Yes, of course. Did someone hurt you?»

«Sort of. Calling cab. There soon.»

The cab felt like it took forever to arrive. Walking would take her an hour at least, and she wasn’t dressed with that in mind; she saw the bus go past, but made no effort to catch it, reluctant to pen herself into close quarters with a lot of other people.

An eternity later, the cab delivered her to the front of Min’s building. She paid, climbed out, and shouldered her bag.

The instant she buzzed, the door clicked open.

The apartment door wasn’t just ajar, it was open, and Flair was right there, paying little attention to anyone else who might happen through the lobby, her expression all anxiety. It was sheer good fortune there was no one in sight, though Min was probably nearby.

“Jill, what happened?” Alabaster hands slid the overnight bag off her shoulder while drawing her inside. Hands both occupied, Flair nudged the door closed with one hip.

“Yes, dear, what did happen?” Min asked from the couch.

“Gary just…” Jillian let Flair guide her towards the couch; she needed it, because her vision was beginning to blur with tears, the numbness of shock thawing in the warm safety. “He said a coworker saw us Saturday when we were out… he accused me of sleeping with Nik and with you two.” She heard her voice break. “Said that’s why I’m here so much. Said I’ve been dressing and acting like a tramp.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Min wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Jillian crumpled against her, gave up on fighting her sobs. “I’m sorry. I hate to see you hurting.”

Flair wriggled herself into whatever space was available on Jillian’s other side, cuddling close, but practical enough to have a box of tissues in her free hand.

Neither offered advice or platitudes or promises, but they stayed there with her while she cried herself out.

Sniffling, she blew her nose, and looked morosely at the tissue. Her black eyeliner was running, turning a rather pretty blue. “Oh god. I must look like a raccoon on LSD.”

“You’re a bit of a mess,” Min admitted. “But that hardly matters. Only how you feel. You went to his place expecting dinner and an evening together, and walked into accusations?”

Wearily, Jillian nodded. “Technically, he’s not completely wrong,” she said reluctantly.

“Yes he is,” Flair said. “Fae bargains are not part of normal life. It’s not like Nik’s been dropping by your apartment to play for fun or anything, or you’ve been messing around with Ethan on the side. And really, he left you on your own with moving, and when you told him about your boss being scary he said that you should just complain to his boss and then never brought it up again, and he really doesn’t seem to care what you want or even if you’re okay.”

Jillian sighed. “He wanted me when I was tying myself in knots trying so hard to be absolutely ordinary. I don’t seem to be so good at that anymore. I think I’m happier with myself now. But that isn’t want he expected or what he wants.”

“If terms change and people grow apart,” Min said firmly, still stroking Jillian’s hair reassuringly, “there are more gracious and mature ways to deal with that or even end it than flinging around hurtful accusations with no evidence to back them.”

“Maybe. I guess. Damn. I think I left things at his place. I think some of his stuff is at my place.”

“Hm. What’s his address, dear?”

Jillian recited it, automatically, then frowned. “Why?”

“I’m just going to ask Sigrun to drop by and fetch your things. Would you mind if she took a look around your apartment for anything of his? There are ways to recognize ownership.”

“Um, that’s okay, I trust her. But he might not listen to her.”

Flair giggled. “I bet Sigrun can handle him. Don’t worry about that.”

Min picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts with one elegant finger, and tapped the screen before picking it up. “Hi. Could I ask a small favour? Jillian’s boyfriend just said some cruel things to her and accused her of cheating. That relationship, safe to say, is over. He has been… rather inattentive for some time, so I doubt there is anything to repair.” Jillian shook her head vehemently. “Jillian believes there are still possessions of his at her place and of hers at his. I’d like to keep Jill here where Flair and I can look after her. Would you be willing to see to the loose ends?” A pause. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Another pause. “I can order take-out, but if you’re inclined to pick up cheesecake from that lovely little shop on King Street, I suspect it could make any day better. It’s a shame Ethan’s Seahorse is closed today.”

“In the back of my closet,” Jillian said, “there’s a cotton-candy pink dress with white lace. And a pair of shoes that match, very low pumps. Feel free to shove those down his throat.”

“Did you hear that? Mm, yes. He insisted she wear something like it for a family wedding, so she bought it and the shoes, even though they are not flattering and not reflective of her own tastes.” Another pause. “Jill? What takes your fancy for supper, dear?”

“Not Indian,” Jillian said with a sigh. “I don’t actually know. Something seriously junk-food-ish.”

“Pizza? Burgers?”

“Um… actually, a ton of fries sounds really appealing.”

“Burgers and fries, then. Classic cheddar and bacon, I think… what toppings do you like?”

Jillian supplied the list of her preferred way to have burgers.

“You remember my preferences and Flair’s? Wonderful. Thank you both, very much. I’ll tell her.” She disconnected. “Both giants send their love and sympathy and support. Sigrun is going to take care of everything with Gary, and Dagrun is off in search of supper. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, dear? It might help you feel better. You’re staying here overnight, of course, and we’ll see how you’re feeling in the morning as far as work.”

“I don’t like my job but I can’t just not go.”

“We’ll evaluate in the morning,” Min repeated firmly. “Flair, do you have anything comfortable Jill can borrow?”

“Sure,” Flair said, setting down the box of tissues and getting up, then offering Jillian a hand. “I’ll have to go look in my room, so you might as well come use the villa bathroom so you’re closer.”

“Take your time,” Min said. “If a shower would feel better than just washing up, feel free.”

Jillian let Flair draw her to her feet. She felt drained, more exhausted than she had after twenty-four hours as a toy, and the villa bathroom might as well be miles away.

Once through the doorway and into Min’s villa, though, some of the internal knots loosened. Gary wasn’t entirely wrong, but that was only by accident. He knew nothing about Jewel’s exquisitely intense existence, and had remained oblivious to her attempts to transfer some of that magic to their relationship.

“I wonder if he’s been sleeping with someone else?” she mused, on the way down the hall. “Actually, I doubt he has. Being too wrapped up in his precious career to remember about relationships needing work is more plausible for him than trying to juggle two lovers. Not dishonest, just clueless.”

“I’m not sure that’s much better,” Flair said doubtfully. “He’s been neglecting you for as long as, well, as long as you’ve known me, and then some, and breaking promises to you, and wanting you to not be you. Like those friends of yours.”

“Kaylee and Christine? They gave up on me, I guess, I haven’t heard from either one in a while. Huh. I didn’t even realize that until now. Obviously I didn’t miss them much.”

“I really don’t think Mistress had any intention of disrupting your friendships and relationships and all. I know she wants you to be happy and feel good about your self and your life. Some things aren’t completely her choice, but she’ll do whatever she can to look out for you. You know that, right? And you do have friends, for real, even if some friends disappear when you aren’t what they want?”

“I know,” Jillian said. “My first reaction was to call Min and come here, remember?”

“Good. And I’m glad you did. It’s not something I have any experience with, but I’m pretty sure being alone wouldn’t be the best thing right now. Okay, you get clean, however you want, and I’ll go find something comfy to wear.”

Jillian tried very hard not to think while she was getting cleaned up, focusing intently on each action as she did it. It worked much better than she expected, but possibly that was because of her associations with this room.

Flair returned with pyjamas, pants and a pullover top, of a wonderfully soft jersey knit, creamy in colour with a print of tabby cats.

Not terribly long later, Jillian found herself curled up in the corner of Min’s couch, a fine crochet afghan over her lap, with Min at the other end of the couch. Dagrun, in her human form, had arrived while Jillian and Flair were in the villa, and was perched on the edge of the chair, unpacking a brown paper bag of food that smelled delicious. A second one waited on the coffee table.

Flair brought two mugs of tea, gave one to Min and one to Dagrun, then scooted back to get two glasses of root beer and ice for herself and Jillian before settling herself on the floor by Jillian’s feet.

“Isn’t that the gourmet burger place?” Jillian asked, studying the logo on the bag Dagrun was unpacking.

Dagrun nodded. “It is. They’re a bit stingy with the fries, however, so I got those up the street where they’re fresh-cut and served more generously.”

“I was expecting basic fast food. Um, I didn’t mean that as a complaint, just that it’s a lot of extra trouble and a lot more expensive.”

“Not so much trouble,” Dagrun said. “I bought the cheesecake that is waiting in the fridge, ordered and paid for the fries, went to get the burgers, and returned to pick up the fries. Quick and simple, and more than worth it. Now, let’s see which is which, shall we? The fries are all the same.”

The various burgers got sorted out into the appropriate hands, and fries were distributed, with Sigrun’s set aside for the time being. For a few minutes, attention centred mainly on appreciation of the burgers and a certain amount of sharing to try different exotic options, though Jillian decided she really did prefer her old-school cheddar and bacon beef. The distraction helped, and by the time they wound down to nibbling on excellent fries and sipping drinks, much of Jillian’s tension had drained away, leaving her, if not energetic, at least less disheartened.

“Is Sigrun going to be okay?” she asked. “He might not let her through the security door, even, let alone believe her. And I probably should have given her my key.”

“Don’t worry,” Dagrun said. “When I left, she was arranging to meet Henry. There is no space I’m aware of that he can’t get into, and he’s fond of you. And you never need to fear for Sigrun’s safety. These days, she works security, but she has trained a number of human warriors who became leaders and celebrities in their day, and she could hold her own against many if necessary. Nor is any appeal to the police likely to succeed against any fae.”

“Mm. That’s good. She is, but you aren’t?”

Dagrun shook her head. “I’m a norn. It’s difficult to explain in your culture, especially since Classical mythology and Christianity began to influence the northlands. We try to see the patterns in the tapestry of life and find ways to moderate the tangles that happen. The human favourites and protegees of norns have had several names, but typically they were both respected and feared as seers, priestesses, wise women, and witches.”

“I’m guessing there aren’t a lot of priestesses and wise women around these days.”

That made Dagrun chuckle. “Names change and evolve. That doesn’t mean that what they describe no longer exists. What else do you call Clara, supporting adolescents through a difficult phase of growing up, and Rachel, who understands the uses of the earth’s bounty far beyond a few cosmetic applications, and Phoebe, who helps women bring new life into the world safely?”

“That makes sense, I suppose. Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“They still want you and I to come to their house someday,” Flair said. “Just for a pot of tea, or whatever, and to hang around and talk and stuff.”

“They don’t live with you?” Jillian asked Dagrun.

The giant shook her head. “They share a house between the three of them. Sigrun and I have one not far from them, and we’re in frequent contact, but the independence works better for us.”

“Fae interact with humans in countless ways,” Min said. “What sort of fae is part of it. Individual preference is another. My way horrifies my family.” She smiled. “It was likely inevitable that, with a fire giant norn as a best friend since we were quite young, I would absorb a less arrogant and unforgiving set of values. Not that forbidding us to be friends would have been likely to succeed. Once Hyld joined us, there was no stopping us, though it’s just as well Henry was around to help minimize the consequences several times. Before you ask, Nik and Sati have been friends for a very long time, as Nechtan and Sigrun have, and Henry has known them for as long as he has known us. Even the newer friendships have become valuable and strong. And, in many circumstances, any of us will watch over those humans important to one of the others.”

“But sometimes,” Dagrun said, “the humans in question can be important in their own right to more than one of us. Friends who know what we are and accept that and remain friends, as opposed to learning what we are and thinking only of fear or personal advantage, have never been common. Those who fear, we avoid for their sakes. Those who try to manipulate us tend not to fare well. But for the special ones who become friends, we’ll do anything in our power. By we, I mean the group of fae you know as friendly. As you discovered with Zipporah, there are fae with other philosophies.”

“Sigrun will not harm Gary, dear,” Min said gently. “But it will not surprise me at all, if she and Henry make it very clear to him that his behaviour is unforgivable and that even if he sees the error of his ways, he is not to contact you by any method. They will not want you distressed by him in the future. Possibly they will frighten him, to be certain he pays attention.”

Jillian contemplated her fries while she thought about how she felt about that. Did it bother her? Angry and hurt as she was, a small voice whispered that it was vindictive and petty to be pleased about it… but another part was simply relieved that she wouldn’t have to fear a phone call or email in the future that would dredge things up again. Sigrun would make sure that, as Min had said, all loose ends were tied up. That relationship was decidedly over, and quite likely, all things considered, it was better that way. There would be no lingering threads binding her to Gary.

“Good,” she said. “And thank you.”

“Bad relationships happen,” Dagrun said wryly. “To fae as well. Being unable to lie directly does not make manipulation impossible, and truth can be a very subjective thing. At one time, I came close to marrying a mountain giant. Believing what was said, without looking for what was not said, turned out to be a mistake, and I doubt I could ever have untangled myself had it gone much further. Fae marriages can’t easily be dissolved while any debt or bargain or commitment remains outstanding, since all are considered mutual. It was Nik and Sati, in pursuit of an unresolved issue, that made me take a second and third look and ask Henry to investigate. The least of it was bragging of having successfully snared a norn—we’re what you might call a good credit risk, we typically find unpaid debts uncomfortable. I was too young to think about the uses someone less scrupulous might have for that reputation, or to believe that someone I liked and admired could have ulterior motives. It was… painful. But it did bring Min that unrepentent deviant of hers.”

“That does not,” Flair said to Jillian, “mean that Dagrun doesn’t like Nik, when she calls him things like that.”

Dagrun chuckled. “It’s hard to insult a satyr with sexual slurs. They tend to take it as an observation or even a compliment. I don’t always like his behaviour, but he has the good taste to adore Min, and I trust him.”

“That sounds like a really difficult breakup to get over,” Jillian said. “Like it would make it hard to trust anyone.”

“It was, for a while. But friends are a good reminder that trust can be real and deserved, and that one bad experience doesn’t justify blanket assumptions about the intentions of all people. And I’m very glad I realized that in time.”

“The string of suitors proposed by my family do justify some blanket assumptions,” Min said dryly. “They were invariably recommended by this grandparent or that uncle because an alliance between families would be useful. Unlike a human marriage, it would not commit me to sex or offspring, but I fail to see the point of such a partnership if a long list of terms and conditions regarding expectations need to be established in advance, and will not include even companionship.” She smiled. “I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic, I’m afraid. I resisted marrying for politics or wealth or family advantage, and had largely given up before I found my bad boy who understands me and wants me for myself, not my family connections. But the various boring or offensive individuals I found myself politely tolerating under family pressure… I’ll spare you the details.”

“Tolerating until the first moment each was unkind or thoughtless towards your pets,” Dagrun said. “That was always the end of any tolerance for any reason, no matter how angry it made your family.”

“Anyone unable to treat my beloved pets with kindness and courtesy forfeits any right to kindness or courtesy from me. Nik, on the other hand, arranged for me to meet a wonderful bright young woman whose abusive husband had abandoned her with two small children. She was unable to keep them fed with any honest work she could find, and was stealing what she could and walking the streets intermittently. She came from a more sheltered and comfortable background and wasn’t very streetwise—Nik saved her from a trick who had more than sex in mind, and he thought she and I might be a good match. She was my pet and friend for many years. Sati fostered her daughter, and Hyld raised her son, and both grew up to have good lives, though her son never quite understood why she preferred to stay with me and tried several times to convince her to come live in his house.”

“Men often fail to understand what life can be like for women in sexist cultures,” Dagrun said. “Even those who mean well.”

Jillian sighed. “Yeah. I keep running into that. And I think Gary honestly believed that I would be okay with hardly seeing him, if eventually he’d have a promotion and a higher income and all the material goodies that come with it. I guess standing by him was supposed to earn me the right to share in it later and be grateful for it, even if I still got left alone a lot staring at the walls of my lovely expensive house? Or something like that? And my wanting life and company and fun and, for that matter, sex right now just isn’t in his plans so I did something wrong, or something? I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“I think you have it,” Dagrun said gently. “The cultural ideal lives, of a man who provides and a woman who supports unconditionally. The better he is as a provider, the more eager she should be to subordinate her own wants and needs to his. There are both men and women who still feel that way. Which is fine, as long as they can pair up with someone who has compatible expectations. But it isn’t a comfortable fit for everyone.”

“Even within that,” Min said, “there is an immense range among men, from neglectful and oblivious through protective and nurturing to controlling and autocratic. Women similarly range from manipulative vamps through satisfied and fulfilled to clingy and insecure. Possibly, dear, you could be happy with a man who enjoys authority and control when it is offered willingly, but only one who understands and appreciates the gift and uses it wisely.”

Jillian started to protest, then stopped. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d been wishing Gary would do, at least at moments? “Maybe,” she admitted. “Not all the time, but maybe sometimes.”

“Don’t despair. They do exist.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I’m going to be in much of a hurry to look for another relationship. Especially if there are whole big subjects that I can’t talk to him about.”

“Which simply narrows it down to those humans who are already quite aware of fae,” Dagrun said. “It isn’t hopeless. But with a pleasant apartment, a job that pays well enough even if you don’t much like it, and friends who may be a little unusual but do care for you, I agree, there’s no hurry.”

“Don’t forget, a frighteningly versatile toy that doesn’t get tired or tell me I’m a tramp. There are things I wish it could do that it can’t, but it does plenty. And I’ve been getting more satisfaction from it than from Gary for a while now. Which I haven’t dared point out to him, and not because I’d never be able to explain how it works. Men and their damned egos. Everything’s about that magic friggin’ wand between their legs and whose is bigger. Even Gary’s job is. There are no women at the upper levels. Total boy’s club.”

“As with many things,” Min said, “a loud and obnoxious minority who are highly visible can create an undeserved bad impression of the majority. Which does not make the loud minority any less obnoxious or potentially destructive.”

With excellent fries and, later, cheesecake, and the sympathetic company of other women, some of the raw edges began to soften.

The sound of the outer buzzer jolted her sharply; Min paused in a story about a man who had learned the hard way about the consequences of trying to take advantage of one of her favourites, and Flair bounced to her feet to go to the buzzer.

“Hello?”

“It’s just me.” The voice was distorted by the speaker, but recognizable. Flair pressed the button to unlock the outer door.

Sigrun joined them a moment later, perching on the arm of Dagrun’s chair.

“All taken care of. Your things are at your apartment, his are in his. Henry sends love and also this.” She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, swiped a few times, then turned it so Jillian could see.

She blinked. “Is that seriously Gary wearing that ghastly pink dress?”

“Yes. Henry was pissed at him. I wasn’t much happier. He was about halfway drunk by the time we got there. He, ah, wasn’t entirely cooperative, but Henry thought the pics might cheer you up.” She offered Jillian the phone. “Swipe to the left, there are a few more pics there.”

Not entirely sure how to feel about this, Jillian accepted it and looked.

By the fourth, she couldn’t help starting to giggle. It wasn’t that he was wearing a dress. It wasn’t that the dress fit so badly—she doubted it would really be flattering on anyone. It was his expression of outraged disbelief.

“He won’t phone you, email you, drop by, send messages via friends or social media, or try in any other way to get ahold of you,” Sigrun added. “He struck Henry as the type who would get lonely and horny in a couple of weeks or a month and try to convince you to either try again or have sex for old times’ sake, because that would be easier than trying to find and get to know someone new. You shouldn’t have to put up with that. If he’s stupid enough to try anyway, don’t reply to him, just tell me or Henry and we’ll remind him.”

“What on earth did you tell him about how you got in and why he should listen to you? And what did he say?”

“Don’t worry about it, little one. Just take my word for it. You don’t need to spare another thought on that self-absorbed, cowardly, thankless clown. You deserve better, if you want anyone at all.”

“Your burger and fries are in the kitchen,” Dagrun said. “And there’s still cheesecake in the fridge. You have to work an early shift and I have class, so we can’t stay as long as I’d like, but we don’t need to run away immediately.”

Nonetheless, eventually, it was just Jillian and Min and Flair remaining—though the giants had each given Jillian a hug before they left. And, before much longer, Jillian began to yawn, though she tried not to.

“At least you can still stay here,” Flair said. “It would be harder if your bargain were complete and you couldn’t come to the villa. I think I might be glad I really have no experience with romantic relationships, but I still don’t like it when you’re sad or hurting. Let’s go get you settled in bed, okay? You look exhausted.”

“Listen to Flair, dear,” Min said.

“What about work in the morning?” Jillian said.

“I’ll come wake you in time to get ready and we’ll decide then whether you’re in any condition. I can arrange a doctor’s note to cover a few days off work with one phone call—one of Nik’s long-standing favourites is a local doctor. Charming and open-minded woman originally from, hm, somewhere in the Middle East, I can’t recall more precisely. Iran, possibly. It might be worth arranging an introduction and for you to consider switching to her as your primary care practitioner, since you’d be able to speak to her more freely. She makes a point of accepting any patient referred to her by Nik’s fae friends.”

“Maryam’s really nice,” Flair said. “And she tells some of the funniest stories.”

“Small things like that, dear, are a matter of networking, and do not require any bargain. At most, at some point in the future I might ask you to do a similarly small favour that will help a favourite of one of my friends. Nothing like helping Sati with a year’s taxes for the gallery, more like giving someone thoughts on a resume. As debts go, it’s on a level of swapping nickels and dimes. I want you to be well, and if a little time off work will help ensure that, then I will arrange it. Off you go and get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Next time: What to do with sudden freedom?

“Well, there’s a gorgeous sight,” Nikandros said appreciatively from the hall doorway.

“How so?” Jillian said sceptically. She was only wearing Flair’s fuzzy peach robe, Flair was as usual naked, and Min was in a short lightweight robe of shimmery red and black and gold with dragons on it, hiding her upper half but leaving exposed the long tail coiled loosely around the legs of her chair.

“Are you kidding? My personal top three sexiest women, all less than dressed so I can fantasize tossing any of you right back into bed? Or onto the table, or whatever other position comes to mind?” Currently, he was in his satyr form, and it was probably inevitable that he was therefore wearing no more than Flair was. Jiliian tried very hard not to think the things she immediately found herself thinking.

“Good morning, Nik,” Min said, smiling. “This is early for you.”

“Well, that’s the idea.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss, then dropped into the chair next to her. More or less, since the somewhat different lower-body configuration wasn’t entirely compatible. “I thought maybe I’d see if I can sweep the three of you off for the day. A repeat customer sent me four tickets for the Thousand Islands river cruise. How does this sound? A three-hour lunch buffet out on the water, on a tour boat with a fully accessible main level. That leaves at twelve-thirty so we need to be there not much past noon. I made supper reservations for six-thirty, and if we’re still feeling bouncy, I know a nightclub with a great live band tonight. Everything’s my treat.”

Flair had told Jillian that Min’s family had little regard for Nikandros and believed she could have done better—a fae with more power and higher status. However they measured these things, her family considered it a drastic mismatch on multiple levels. That opinion was even held by their son, though not their daughter.

Flair’s opinion was that it was ridiculous. Nikandros was with Min because he wanted to be, not because it was advantageous for a pair of aristocratic families. If he tended to support her un-aristocratic protective inclinations towards humans, that wasn’t the source of them, only gave her a sympathetic partner in it. And he made her happy. That was, at the moment, unmistakably obvious in the way she was looking at him.

Hadn’t Jillian heard something somewhere about melusines liking water?

“That sounds wonderful,” Min said in delight. “Jill? Flair?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Flair said excitedly.

“I’ll have to drop by home for clothes,” Jillian said. “But I honestly don’t know whether I have anything to wear if we’re going somewhere that needs reservations.”

“We’ll find something if necessary,” Min said. “It’s early September and it’s warm in the evening still. We’re no longer living in an era that requires multiple layers of floor-length skirts regardless of the weather, thank goodness. And if I know Nik, it isn’t a place so formal they expect ties and tiaras.”

“Perish the thought,” Nikandros said. “Too much formality is no fun at all. Well, unless it’s completely superficial and I get to watch someone squirm trying desperately not to let on what’s going on underneath. That’s so much fun it’s worth putting up with the rest. But anyway. This place is certainly not formal—nice but not demanding. The reservations weren’t really necessary, I’m just making sure we have a table waiting. If you’re heading home, Jillian, suppose I pick you up at eleven-thirty, and then swing over this way?”

“That works,” Jillian said. “Thanks.”

“Feel free to dress sexy for the cruise, treasure, but above all, make sure you feel good about yourself.” He got up, stole brief kisses all around, and wandered off.

“So I guess I’m eating relatively fast,” Jillian said, “then scooting home to change.”

“Keep in mind,” Min said, “you’ll be with Nik and I both, and that collar you’re still wearing gives us quite a lot of freedom to be protective. No matter what you choose to wear or do while we’re out, you’ll be safe. This includes everything from sunburn to social disapproval.”

“What are you expecting me to do? Wait. Satyr. Forget I said that.”

Min chuckled. “Sex in the middle of the dining room would be rather extreme even for him.”

Jillian finished breakfast, went back to Flair’s room to find her clothes, and started for home. The walk wasn’t all that long and it helped clear her mind a bit. Was this going to be a mistake? Was she going to end up inadvertently cheating on Gary, after a full day too close to a satyr?

Spending so much time with Flair and Min had been helping to distract her from both the dissatisfaction of that relationship and the subtle feeling that none of her clothes fit right—or maybe it was her own skin. She wanted… what did she want? She wanted a solid human relationship that could, at least intermittently, make her feel alive and lost in the moment and feverishly turned on, even if it was unlikely to approach the euphoria she felt when she was being Jewel. But then, Jewel was frightening anyway, and possibly dangerous to her well-being, and probably shouldn’t exist. She wanted to figure out who she was and how to express that in the way she dressed, although that was still alarming. She couldn’t tell what was innate identity and what was her frustrated sex drive when she looked in her closet in the morning and tried to tone down her first impulses into something appropriate for work.

Right now, she didn’t have to tone anything down.

She got home, stripped on the way to the ground-floor bathroom to clean up, and went up to her bedroom wrapped in her own bathrobe. What to wear? Min said bare skin wasn’t a problem even though probably she’d be in the sun part of the time. With the breeze from the water and probably air conditioning in the dining room, overheating shouldn’t be a major risk.

She experimented, and finally went with something simple: a stretchy grey knee-length dress with a moderately low rounded neck and no sleeves, with her black panties and bra, camisole and corset, under it. She skipped the garter belt and stockings, but fastened her wide stretchy black belt over it to emphasize her waist, and chose a pair of black strappy sandals with three-inch wedge heels. A long necklace of black and silver chain drew the eye downwards, and she slipped matching dangly earrings into place while she thought about makeup. She lined her eyes black and highlighted them with iridescent white and silver-grey shadow, and turned her lips deep cherry red.

She heard a knock while she was still transferring things she might need today from her everyday larger purse to a smaller black one. She paused long enough to open the door.

Nikandros had switched to his human form, of course, and looked entirely too appealing. Leave it to a satyr to turn something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt into something that sensual. The jeans, despite being deep black, had a scattering of distressed areas that allowed glimpses of skin, and they must be partly spandex to fit like that while allowing him to move that freely. The t-shirt was partially a slightly shiny solid black, and the rest was black fishnet. He was wearing that Capricorn pendant again, bright against the black, and a gold ring in one ear.

“Almost ready,” Jillian said, backing up to let him in.

“Take your time. I’ll just admire the view.”

She felt herself blush a bit, but even the most overtly sexual comments from him didn’t feel remotely the same as the remarks Brett had made. She hastened back to the table to finish sorting through the odds and ends that lived in her purse.

Nikandros leaned against the wall, no more than three feet away from her, his gaze on her and not on the table. That was quite close enough for her to start feeling that satyr influence, her thoughts drifting towards sex, and what he might be wearing under those jeans, and how long it would take to get her own panties out of the way. Her body remembered how he’d felt, down her throat repeatedly, inside her ass once, and it made her squirm a bit, aware that she was starting to get wet.

She zipped the smaller purse shut. “All set.” With any luck, being in public would help her keep her composure at least somewhat. Being conscious of what was making her hormones buzz seemed to make only limited difference, but she was not going to just give in.

“Good.” He left the wall and came closer, one hand curving around her cheek to tilt her head for a light kiss. She felt her heart speed up, and instinctively shifted her weight towards him. “Do one thing for me, treasure? Try not to let yourself get in the way of your own fun today. I promise not to mess with you deliberately, so you’re going to have to figure out ways other than that to not overthink things. Try to remember that the odds of running into anyone you know are very low, and why should it matter what strangers think of you? Disapproval is frequently envy repressed and hidden behind self-righteousness, I’ve seen that more times than I can count.” He let his hand fall, stepping back and turning towards the door. “Shall we?”

There’s nothing wrong with feeling good. There’s nothing wrong with other people knowing you’re feeling good.

Jillian snatched up her purse, fishing out her keys on the way to the door. Maybe if she refused to acknowledge that her breathing was a bit rapid and her skin felt flushed, it would stop more quickly.

Of course, she was about to get in a car with the cause.

What on earth am I getting myself into this time? What’s going to happen with a limited number of people on a boat for three hours with a satyr present? They pretty much can’t escape being in proximity to him. And I’m going to be in closer proximity than anyone but Min, and it doesn’t affect her, and Flair, who’s so used to it that the involuntary effect isn’t that strong anymore. Even if he isn’t playing games with me, I’m still going to feel it.

How much of today am I going to spend with a wet spot on my skirt? I probably should have thought of that and dressed for it, instead of thinking of what would feel good and look sexy.

Um, isn’t that exactly the kind of thought he just said not to worry about?

Do I need to do what he says, really? Even if what he says is actually quite reasonable?

With a small sigh, she locked the door and followed him to the car.

Not a sportscar, though it was black with coppery highlights when the sun caught it. It was, in fact, a relatively practical new-looking four-door with a hatchback—probably the back seats could fold forward to make considerable cargo space. Possibly one could sleep, or do other things, as well.

But it was going to be easier for Min to get into and out of than Dagrun’s van or a low-seated sportscar, and her chair would fit easily in the back. It honestly would not surprise her if that was a large part of his reasoning.

Flair and Min were waiting outside the building. Flair looked entirely normal now, of course, in a summery dress of pale pink and burgundy and sky blue that fit her torso closely but the short skirt flared out. Min was wearing denim shorts that reached halfway to her knees and a shimmery white belly-baring halter with a short-sleeved sheer red top over it, her long blonde hair in a neat braid lying forward over one shoulder.

Figuring Min got the front seat, Jillian hopped out as soon as they stopped, as Min and Flair approached the edge of the sidewalk.

Nikandros circled the car quickly to offer Min a hand to her feet, which she accepted graciously, allowing him to steady her across a few steps of space and into the car. She probably didn’t strictly need it—Jillian had seen her walk farther before she got shaky. She’d also seen Min get impatient with people who assumed that she needed their help. From Nikandros, the gesture just looked gallant. Or maybe like an excuse for physical contact.

Flair folded the chair deftly, and Nikandros took it to tuck it away in the back, while the two human women slid into the back seat.

From there it was only a short drive to the parking lot of the cruise line, a short wait in line to board, and a short pause before the ship pulled away from the dock, putting them in a small isolated floating world for the next three hours.

In a rather charmingly old-fashioned gesture, Nikandros drew back chairs for Jillian and Flair, holding them while they seated themselves, and repeated it with Min with more contact, steadying her as she moved from wheelchair to chair and then folding the former neatly before taking his own seat. Nor did Min have to move to visit the buffet, since Nik filled a plate for her before fetching his own. Although that was normally Flair’s job, she just smiled and left him to it.

While they were eating, four separate people drifted towards their table from nearby ones, clearly at a loss for what to say. Nikandros redirected them gently and politely. Only one resisted; Min cleared her throat, laid a hand on Nikandros’ arm, and gave that one a sufficiently pointed look to send her back to her own seat.

“My protector,” Nikandros said in amusement.

“You said no. Bedazzled or not, she comprehends the word. I have no patience for those who simply choose not to accept a refusal.” She leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “For the moment, I want your attention on us.”

“As though anyone could be any competition for that.”

After quite a good meal, though not as good as Flair’s cooking and paling compared to those moving-day sandwiches, Min sent Flair and Jillian to the upper deck, insisting that they should at least check it out.

It was fairly crowded with people admiring the islands they passed, jutting masses of huge glacial rock and thriving trees, some of them with houses or cottages on them, some of them with historical significance along with the simple beauty. What would it be like to live on one? Inconvenient in many ways, the practical part of Jillian’s mind said. You’d have to use a boat to reach land even just to go to the store, let alone for any emergency. Delightfully private and romantic, the other part of her mind said. You wouldn’t need to worry about anyone annoying dropping by to preach their religion or try to sell you Girl Guide cookies at a time when you were less than completely dressed and not in the mood for intrusions, and there’d be no neighbours close enough to hear most sounds.

They spent the rest of the tour on the main deck, where the view was less impressive but they could be with the two fae. Jillian kept finding herself smiling at Min’s undisguised delight in the water around them, at times on her feet so she could see it better and feel the spray, with Nikandros’ arm around her waist to support her. But then, she thought some snakes were able to swim quite well, even if they weren’t specifically aquatic, and maybe the comparisons she’d heard between melusines and mermaids were because they had more in common than a tail in place of legs.

So it seemed like a shame when the tour boat brought them back to the dock, but it might be just as well, since the frequency of people approaching Nikandros had been starting to go up even outdoors.

Nikandros surveyed the parking lot. “Since we’re in no hurry, maybe a walk along the water while we wait for some of the congestion to clear?”

“That sounds greatly preferable to sitting in the car waiting to escape the parking lot,” Min agreed.

Nikandros gestured, with half a bow.

The walkway was comfortably wide, but not enough so for four people; Flair and Jillian dropped back a step, behind the two fae.

“I was going to suggest Sati’s gallery,” Nikandros said, as they strolled along the paved path that followed the shore. Large blocks of limestone had been dumped along the water’s edge, slowing the erosion. The water had already softened the edges, giving them the look of having been there much longer than a few years. “But apparently they’re closed today, changing the exhibits. Sati would let us in anyway, but what’s the point? One of these days, though. It might be just as well doing it on a day we have all the time we want, since Jillian hasn’t been there before.”

“It’s always worth a visit,” Min said. “Sati’s a gifted artist, and she finds gifted artists to support and encourage.”

“Just how much of the art is alive?” Jillian asked.

“That depends,” Nikandros said. “Usually there are at least a few. She currently has three more or less permanent pets, and nine others she has various arrangements with. No one’s ever forced, but most eventually take a turn, sooner or later.”

Jillian contemplated that, wondering whether she’d get in trouble for asking, but she really needed to know. “Did they end up with their parents bargaining them off too?”

“Not one, and Sati and I have been friends since we were very young so I’d know. She looks for artists who are underappreciated or don’t have access to the resources they need to bring their gifts to full potential, so kids aren’t really her thing any more than they’re my thing. There are lots of roads besides that one.”

“Maggie,” Min said, “who died a couple of years ago, made two bargains that concerned her safety. The third she made as a desperate alternative to suicide, which would have been a dire step for a woman born in the eighteen-nineties who already feared she was damned by things she’d done to survive. She asked for a way to permanently escape the world that had always treated her so harshly. The best way I could do that was to bring her into my home.”

“Maggie loved Mistress,” Flair said, “way more than I can explain. She told me lots about her life, and she always said she was much happier living with Mistress than she ever was before that.” She sounded sad. Jillian caught her hand and squeezed, and Flair’s hand tightened in return.

“I hope she was,” Min said. “One day, if you like, I’d be happy to tell you about Maggie, with Flair’s help, and about Eugenie who was with me when Maggie came, and about all the others before. I miss them, but they deserve to be remembered. The women who have chosen to live with me have often preferred that option to the others open to them. Occasionally they have had children already. The children did not belong to me in any sense, though I have tended to feel responsible for their wellbeing. I suppose I was in the position of fairy godmother.” That last sentence had a humorous tone to it, and Flair giggled, distracted from her thoughts of Maggie.

“The one pet who lives with me permanently,” Nikandros said, “is there because she is honestly too dangerous to be free and I can’t fix her because something is missing, not broken. She is a highly intelligent and extremely attractive woman with absolutely no empathy or remorse. The damage and pain she caused was absolutely appalling, until finally someone bargained with Henry to get her out of commission. In my villa, she’s safe but she can’t do any harm. The ones who come and go all have different stories. A fair number are sex workers of one sort or another, some of them because they want to be and some because they ran out of other options. They leave either really good at what they do or with a way to do something different, their choice. There are a few I watch out for that have more-or-less independent lives.”

“You met Rachel and Clara and Phoebe,” Flair offered.

Nik glanced back and nodded. “I think it’s fairly obvious they all chose freely. Sati’s current crew, I know more than I can actually say, because everyone’s entitled to privacy. Every story is unique, but every one of them is with Sati by choice and can leave if they want to. Three are indefinite commitments. Another will probably not leave for a long time, if ever, now that person has a safe haven to concentrate purely on art, away from a very unpleasant history.”

“Under some circumstances,” Flair said, “what otherwise looks like just a way to pay a debt is the solution or the goal in itself.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jillian said. That was certainly a perspective-changing approach.

“Try to have some faith, dear,” Min said. “Anyone I consider a friend has no interest in randomly terrorizing, tormenting, or abducting humans. They would not otherwise be my friends. Any humans with my friends, to any degree and on any terms, are there by their own free consent other than rare extraordinary circumstances, such as Gloria’s or Flair’s.”

“I don’t not consent,” Flair said. “Or something. I like my life. But I do know what you mean.”

“When you get the chance to see the gallery, you may feel free to enjoy it without guilt that you are condoning slavery or abuse.”

Jillian sighed. “Just checking.”

“I know. That you care about others isn’t a bad thing, and you haven’t had long to learn the rules or the countless variations.”

“So when you have questions, you get answers,” Nikandros said. “No one wants you worried, treasure.” He eyed the rocks beside them. “Here we are. Stop here.”

“For what?” Min asked.

“I checked. There’s a rock you can get to and sit on if I help, and it reaches right out into the water. I suggest you leave the shoes here.”

Min laughed, wheeled to the edge of the walkway and locked the brakes on her chair, and leaned down to unfasten her sandals. “Are you sure about this?”

“What’s the worst that happens? I misjudged and we have to convince a few humans they didn’t actually see a lake monster. We’ve done worse.”

Min set her sandals on the pavement and accepted Nik’s hand to help her stand up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her.

Jillian took a step forward, instinctively, to be on Min’s other side; Flair laid a hand on her arm to get her attention and, when Jillian glanced at her, shook her head. Flair backed up a few steps to sit on a bench, no more than five feet from Min’s chair.

“Let them be,” she whispered, when Jillian joined her. “Just give them a few minutes. Trust me.”

With misgivings, Jillian shrugged and stayed there. Presumably Flair could read something about the situation that Jillian was missing. A few minutes to sit down, with a little distance from satyr influence, was probably helpful anyway.

It took several steps to reach the rock Nikandros had in mind. A couple of those steps were short jumps, only mildly precarious for a healthy human, but Jillian worried every moment that Nik’s support wouldn’t be enough and Min’s weak hips would fail to take her weight. Min clearly had no such concerns, and was giggling breathlessly by the time he carefully helped her sit down on a large protruding rock. He perched on the next one, legs crossed, watching with a smile as she lowered her bare feet down in the water. It was chilly even in summer, Jillian knew from experience, but Min just sighed happily and held out a hand to Nik; he closed his around hers. Jillian got the distinct impression that even without words, they were very much communicating. Or maybe communing.

“A year isn’t much against a fae lifespan,” Flair whispered to Jillian, “but they still experience it as a year, more or less, and for most of it, they’ve been together a lot less than they’re used to. They can go back and forth but a lot of everyday life doesn’t happen in villas, it happens out here, and that gets complicated. Nik’s too nice to not include you and I, but this is all about making Mistress happy, I’m sure of it.”

“The tickets came from a repeat customer,” Jillian murmured, “but that customer might have suggested a few possibilities or just asked outright what he’d like as a thanks? And Nik saw a chance?”

Flair nodded. “You’re getting the idea. The house’ll be done soon, last estimate was late October. I don’t think Nik really has much he needs to be there in person for regularly in BC anymore. I bet as soon as the house is ready, he moves in with us.”

Min said something quietly to Nikandros, who answered her, though Jillian could make out none of it. Whatever it was, it made Min laugh, and Nikandros grinned.

What Flair was saying certainly seemed plausible, given what they were seeing. It didn’t seem to particularly matter whether they were human or how old they really were or whether it translated to ‘in love’ the way she understood it. They were simply a couple very much enjoying a moment together, the rest of the world temporarily unimportant.

“You’re smiling,” Jillian said quietly.

Flair turned that smile fleetingly on Jillian before her gaze went back to the two fae. “I like it when they’re happy. She defies her whole family to do the things she thinks is right, which is usually being kind. Sometimes that’s hard. And Nik is a lot more kind and generous and sympathetic than you’ve probably really seen yet. There are, Idunno, hundreds of thousands of fae in the world, all over it, even in places humans can’t live, and there are lots that are good to at least their own humans, but of all of them, I think we got lucky enough to belong to the best ones ever.”

“I haven’t got enough of a sample size for a very solid conclusion, but I think I have to agree.” All the weirdness could easily have been far more intrusive and traumatic, instead of being presented to her and letting her go at her own pace. More or less. And there was Zipporah and her aggression, and the other less pleasant fae she’d seen only during her first bargain.

“I know a lot is still really new and you’re unsure about a lot. I really want to find ways for you to meet more of the other humans who are beholden to Mistress’ friends, Sati’s and Nechtan’s and Hyld’s and Nik’s, and more time with Rachel and Clara and Phoebe.”

“God knows, I need friends. Just gotta get a grip on my life.”

“To me, it’s absolutely amazing that you keep functioning as well as you do, but I sorta have a different threshold for stress.”

“It’s just as amazing to me, y’know, the things that you just accept as normal without batting an eye. To me, my life’s pretty ordinary. Well, maybe getting less so all the time. But I think that’s a good thing overall.”

They waited in companionable quiet until the two fae had enough and made their way back to the walkway. Min slipped once on a water-slick rock, and Jillian’s heart skipped a beat, but Nik was right there to take her weight. A moment later, Min was settled safely back in her chair.

Flair darted over to drop to one knee and help her put her sandals back on. Min smiled and ran a hand over her hair.

“Thank you, cherie.”

Jillian joined the others, less hastily.

“Thank you for being patient,” Nikandros said.

“Why, are we in a hurry?” Jillian retorted. “It’s a nice place to sit and look at the view and talk.”

“Yes,” Min said. “It is. I’d like to clean up and perhaps change before we go out, and the parking lot seems quiet now.”

“None of us need to change,” Nikandros said, waiting while Min turned her chair back the way they’d come, then falling in step beside her. “The place I have in mind isn’t all that formal. The nightclub, if we decide to go, is moderately upscale, with quite a nice eighties retro theme. They might object to full-on grunge or something, but the eighties were rather diverse and they aren’t excessively fussy.”

“These shorts are comfortable but extremely casual,” Min said firmly. “Jillian and Flair are probably fine, but I’d prefer something a little dressier. While I’m relieved that the fashion of changing one’s clothes several times a day has passed, some clothes are simply more appropriate for some situations. Also, conventional makeup can suffer from sun, sweat, spray, eating, and physical activity like dancing, but Echo’s work does not.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Jillian said.

“So, Nik, if you want us at our best…”

Nikandros laughed and spread his hands, careful that the near one wouldn’t strike Min. “Would I ever argue with you? I’m all for anything that allows all three of my devastatingly gorgeous companions for the evening to feel as sexy and confident as possible.”

Back at Min’s apartment, Nikandros lingered only briefly, then he left via Min’s villa, promising to be back in plenty of time.

“Dressing room,” Min said. “And let’s see what we can do for all three of us.”

They got cleaned up in the bathroom, rinsing away sweat and lake spray. With Echo’s assistance on makeup and hair, all three got ready. Min changed to a knee-length dress with a high neck and short sleeves, though it bared her shoulders, of a metallic green-black, and added heavy-looking gold jewellery that had deep green stones in it.

Jillian’s plainer jewellery had been swapped for retro neon that, with Echo’s bolder and more colourful makeup, transformed the whole look with no need to change her grey dress: a collection of thin flexible gummy bracelets in a rainbow of colours, heavy neon-yellow hoop earrings, and three strands of small neon beads braided together, pink and blue and yellow. Apparently they actually belonged to Min’s daughter, but both Min and Flair insisted that Sophia wouldn’t mind.

Flair, also at Min’s urging, tied a burgundy lace scarf around her neck and added dangly triangular earrings. She swapped her sandals for frilly ankle socks and pink heeled pumps, and put on fingerless pink fishnet mitts.

“Very nice, girls,” Min said approvingly. “That looks good anywhere for dinner, and we’re all set for afterwards. Let’s go find Nik. Thank you, Echo, you do beautiful work, dear.”

Min’s reflection in the full-length mirror waved, smiling, then went back to simply reflecting the room and its occupants.

“Someday,” Jillian muttered, “I’m going to start asking questions about her and this whole mirror thing. Presumably she has some kind of existence outside mirrors.”

“Of course she does,” Min said serenely, on her way to the door. “But she can be shy and self-conscious. That’s common for fae of her kind. I see no reason to push her towards anything that makes her uncomfortable.” Since they’d left the door open—Jillian was a little surprised Nikandros hadn’t tried to sneak looks at them changing—she simply wheeled her way through and down the hall. Jillian and Flair hastened to catch up.

Nikandros was waiting in the outermost room, the huge bright entryway that had doors to Min’s villa and Min’s apartment and a third door Jillian hadn’t yet seen in use. He was lounging casually in a chair, legs extended in front of him with his ankles crossed, but he rose immediately, smiling, when they joined him.

“With you looking like that,” he said, “it’s going to be a challenge making sure no one steals any of you away before we come home later. I hope I’m up to it.”

Flair giggled. “Is there anything you aren’t up to?”

He winked at her. “Not that I’ve found yet, cutie.”

“I think,” Jillian said, “part of the trick is going to be making sure we don’t lose you to hordes of admirers.”

Nikandros laughed. “You have no competition, treasure. Shall we?”

He parked the car in a small municipal lot, and they walked a short distance to a side-street off the main one, and a block down it.

“That’s a pet store,” Flair said suddenly. “I didn’t know there was one here.”

“Would you like to see if they have anything your cats don’t already have?” Min asked indulgently.

“I… um, I do, but I don’t want everyone to have to wait.”

“Nik? Suppose you and Jillian go ahead, and Flair and I will join you in a moment? This shouldn’t take long.”

Nikandros sketched a kind of bow. “Two doors down. I’ll refrain from ravishing Jillian while you’re out of sight.”

“Please do. And also refrain from allowing her to ravish you.”

That made him laugh. “That too. But she’s pretty strong-willed when she’s not choosing to give in.” He winked at Jillian, and offered his arm. She slid a hand around it.

Of course, that did bring her into even closer proximity. Not for the first time, she felt her thoughts skipping tracks onto fantasies of much closer contact. There was a narrow gap between buildings right there, out of sight, and it wouldn’t take much space to get his jeans unbuttoned and hike her short skirt up high enough…

No. Just, no.

At least on the water, they hadn’t been in constant proximity. She was less sure about the rest of the evening, and how long she could keep ignoring how damp her panties kept getting and the images that slipped into her mind.

Beside the pet store was a small gift shop. Beyond that, Nik opened a glass door set in a grey limestone storefront, or at least the limited amount that wasn’t deep-set windows was limestone, and ushered her in.

The interior felt cool and clean, the walls painted a very pale blue with a scattering of framed paintings that seemed to involve water often. Jillian saw warm golden wood and deep ocean blue vinyl padding, matching the curtains and the darker floor tiles scattered among the paler blue ones. Only three of the dozen or so tables were occupied. The kitchen area was divided from the rest only by a fairly high counter, rather than being in a separate room, though a hallway with several doors suggested that there was an area that was out of sight regardless.

A woman of around her own age approached without haste from the far side of the room. She wore black yoga pants and a white tank-top, her dark blue hair braided smoothly back and her throat circled by a narrow black leather collar with a ring at the front, a tattoo down one arm of a green and brown and grey horse erupting from blue waves.

“Any preference for where we should sit, treasure?” Nikandros asked, surveying the room. “Hm, how about over there? Not too far from the kitchen, far enough from the occupied tables for some privacy, and we can tuck Min’s chair in the corner where no one will trip. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“Hi, Nik,” the blue-haired woman said casually. “Did you forget how to count to four?”

“The other half of the party’ll be along in a minute,” Nikandros laughed. “How about you grab us a bottle of Rhonda’s sweet rosé and four glasses?”

“You got it.” She walked away, towards the small bar that adjoined one end of the open kitchen, and Jillian heard her call, “Nik’s here,” to someone.

“You don’t even live in this city yet,” Jillian said, sitting down. “How are you already on a first-name basis with people?”

That made him laugh again. “Being friendly isn’t that hard, treasure, just smile and be open. But mutual friends make it easier.”

It wasn’t the blue-haired woman who set a bottle of wine and four wine glasses on the table, it was someone male in a white coat with two rows of buttons.

“Seriously, Nik, are you trying to lay claim to all the attractive, charming women in the area before the rest of us even get settled in?”

Jillian looked up sharply, startled, recognizing the voice. Ethan?

“Not mine,” Nik said. “Min’s. You could’ve mentioned that there’s a pet store so close by, Flair got distracted.”

“Not precisely the conditions I had in mind.” Ethan began to fill the wine glasses. “But since I wasn’t sure that you’d choose to call at all, I’m good with this.”

Nikandros gave Ethan a questioning look, though he accepted the basket of bread rolls from the blue-haired woman as she dropped by just that long, and set it on the table.

“We’ve met,” Jillian said. “I… was mostly trying to figure out how to work going out for coffee into everything else. And whether it was a good idea to risk any more friendships with anyone I have to hide things from.” That was clearly not the issue she’d believed it to be.

“Always a bit chancy,” Ethan admitted. “On the other hand, I found Cindy and ended up introducing her to the boss, so sometimes it works out okay.”

“The boss?” ‘The boss’ must be fae… one of Min’s friends, considering how comfortable he was with Nik. Water imagery everywhere. She could rule out most for various reasons, which left… “Nechtan?”

“Yep, he owns the Seahorse. And the staff, to varying degrees.” He offered Jillian a glass of wine.

“You made those amazing sandwiches he brought the day we moved. Having something wonderful and healthy and filling to eat really helped.”

“Glad to hear it, although I’m even more sorry we couldn’t make it to be extra hands. Fish okay? Atlantic cod, specifically.”

“Um, sure. Sounds great.” Considering what he’d done with sandwiches, what did he consider a real meal?

“Allergic to anything, or anything you can’t stand?”

“No, not really.”

“Willing to trust me?”

“Definitely,” Nikandros said. “Go do that magic you do. Did you do fish today because you knew Min was coming?”

Ethan laughed. “I’ll admit to nothing. Four, then?” Jillian wasn’t quite sure why it was at all surprising that Ethan leaned down to give Nik a quick kiss before he went back to the kitchen.

“Should I ask?” Nikandros asked, picking up his wine.

Jillian shrugged. “Laundromat. He was very polite and respectful and friendly, didn’t even ask for my number, just gave me his. I told him I was involved with someone and he still wanted to go out for coffee sometime. Something he said reminded me of you. It was right after a couple of brats were rude—Echo took care of them—so it was a really nice contrast. But, y’know, complicated. Does Min know what this place is?”

“Nope. They only opened the doors yesterday, and they’re doing an official grand opening next week. My surprise. Which apparently was a bigger surprise than I expected. It’s not likely to ever be a mainstream kind of place. Ethan’s a bloody genius, but he gets bored. He likes preparing everything himself, start to finish, instead of managing a big kitchen, and he does everything from scratch. There’s frozen meals too,” he nodded towards a bank of glass-fronted cabinets. “But those and the current menu are never going to be consistent, it’ll always be whatever he could get fresh and whatever he woke up in the mood to make. On the other hand, anyone with half a brain will just tell him if they’re allergic to anything and then eat whatever he hands them, because it will never be a mistake. You’ll see.”

The small bells on the door chimed.

Not two heartbeats later, Jillian heard Flair squeal, “Cindy!” and saw her bolt across the floor to give the blue-haired waitress a ferocious hug, warmly returned.

“Heya, sweetheart,” Ethan called, though he was clearly busy. “Save me one of those hugs!”

“Only one? Why didn’t you tell me you finally got here?”

“It’s been a tad hectic,” Cindy said ruefully. “Most of the work was done, but we still had some to do, and Ethan gets seriously twitchy when he can’t feed people. I’ve only been able to grab a couple of hours with Jake, even. The plan was that tomorrow, we’d announce a big closed family party Thursday night, and then we’d do an official grand opening on Saturday, and maybe after that we can start letting life calm down a bit.” Her gaze went to Min, waiting quietly with a faint smile nearby. “Madame Min! I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s all right, dear,” Min said. “It’s wonderful to see you, and I’m very much looking forward to whatever that wizard you have over in the kitchen is magicking up.”

“I’ll do my best not to disappoint,” Ethan said, ducking his head in a sort of bow.

Cindy waited until Min had moved to one of the chairs at the table, and neatly whisked her folded wheelchair to the corner, safely out of the way.

“You didn’t tell me we were coming here!” Flair said to Nikandros, barely able to sit still in her chair. “Or that they were in town!”

“I only found out yesterday,” Nikandros laughed. “I could’ve told you, but I couldn’t resist the surprise. I didn’t know Jillian had managed to run into Ethan already. Or maybe vice versa.”

Flair stopped, a hand around her wine glass. “You did? When?”

“I had no idea who he was,” Jillian said. She told them about the laundromat, the annoying boys, Echo’s rescue, and Ethan’s approach.

“You would be perfectly safe with Ethan,” Nikandros said, “if you were alone with him in the middle of nowhere, stark naked plus handcuffs, and too drunk to walk or remember anything.” He paused to reflect. “Now, if he does have genuine consent, things can get seriously interesting in a hurry.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Jillian reminded him. Possibly she was also reminding herself.

“Ethan’s worth being any kind of friends with,” Flair said firmly. “Cindy and Rill, too. Rill’s probably in the back, staying out of sight. Hope I can sneak back and say hi.”

“No one’s likely to stop you from going anywhere, cutie,” Nikandros said.

“So the city’s being gradually infiltrated by a surprising number of people with fae connections?” Jillian said.

“There were already fae around, treasure, and humans beholden to them. We just aren’t all willing to associate with each other. But as far as I know, our particular extended family is done moving. Everyone who’s coming is here. Everyone else decided to stay or, in one case, to start travelling. Our daughter Sophia’s helping with getting settled in Sri Lanka before she moves on.”

“We can come for the party, right?” Flair said to Min entreatingly. “Please?”

Min laughed. “Of course we will. Jillian? I hope you aren’t busy Thursday evening.”

“I’ll make sure I’m not,” Jillian said.

“Good,” Flair said happily. “Then you can meet lots of humans who chose to bargain with fae.”

“And lived to tell the tale,” Nikandros joked. “And even came back again.”

“Heads up,” Ethan said cheerfully. He and Cindy each carried a plate in each hand; deftly, they set a plate in front of each of the four at the table. Ethan backed up a step; Cindy left to answer a call from another table.

Part of the plate was plump rice tinted faintly yellow, mixed with several kinds of vegetables chopped small. The rest was a small salad of fresh vegetables on a nest of bright green lettuce leaves, and on top of that was a filet of grilled fish, already neatly cut into strips. She could see the juices from the fish dripping down onto the vegetables below.

“Oh, that smells good!” Jillian said.

“That’s a start,” Ethan said.

“It’ll taste better,” Nikandros assured her, fork already in his hand. He separated a bit of fish, speared a small piece of fresh tomato that was under it, and took a bite. “Mm. You definitely didn’t lose that magic touch anywhere on the trip here.”

Flair, her mouth full already, nodded enthusiastically.

Curiously, Jillian did much the same, though the fish alone. It was flaky and tender, not at all dry, and the scent tantalized her nose as she raised it to her mouth.

A tang of lemon, but a cascade of other flavours too, savoury and sweet, none of them overwhelming the rich flavour of the fish itself but modulating it and enhancing it in perfect harmony. She closed her eyes, reluctant to swallow and let the bite become only a memory.

“That,” Ethan said in satisfaction. “Being able to see that look, right there, knowing I did all of it. That was worth trading absolutely everything for.”

“And we are extremely grateful that you feel that way,” Min said. “This is as wonderful as ever, Ethan, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Enjoy your dinner.”

By the time Jillian pulled her thoughts back together and opened her eyes, he was halfway back to the kitchen.

“Oh my god.”

Nikandros laughed. “Yep. That boy has a hell of a talent.”

“Why isn’t he making a gazillion dollars in a five-star Paris restaurant or something?”

“Ask him. He bargained for this, not that, which might give you a hint.”

Jillian tried a bite of the rice. It was seasoned, but the flavours in it meshed with the flavours of the fish without discord despite being different. The vegetables in it weren’t a generic frozen mix, they couldn’t be, they had texture and taste. “Am I allowed to enjoy food this much?”

“As much as possible, treasure.”

“Am I going to have to give up my apartment to eat here as often as possible?”

Min smiled. “Keeping the prices in a range the average person can afford was part of the bargain.”

“Good, because I really have no idea how ordinary food is going to taste after this.”

“You can always pick up frozen meals too,” Nikandros said. “But I bet if you called him in the throes of withdrawal, he’d arrange something. Artists need to feel appreciated.”

“And we all try to make sure he knows how much we appreciate him,” Flair said.

Cindy stopped by the table. “All good?” she asked, but her tone was just a little too innocent to be believable.

“You know it is,” Nikandros laughed.

“How can something this, well, simple, taste so amazing?” Jillian asked.

Cindy chuckled. “Ethan would tell you, anyone can drown mediocre ingredients in spices, and that the trick is to seduce, not club someone and drag them off by the hair. Next time he does cod, he’ll do something different with it, whatever inspires him that day. Doesn’t work well in a commercial kitchen, and sometimes customers get cranky about the menu always changing, but there are always people who know better than to argue. Yell if you need anything.”

“Possibly, a mop, once Jillian’s done melting,” Nikandros said. Cindy laughed and left them to eat.

“I sort of don’t want to finish it,” Jillian said. “Like not wanting Christmas morning to be over, or something.”

“Understandable,” Min said. “However, he’s forever making something new and equally delicious. You could think of it as a matter of trust. You may not get what you expect, but it will be just as good. And now that we have him in reach…” She trailed off, but the expressive palm-up gesture with her hand said it all.

They enjoyed the rest of the meal with minimal conversation, attention largely on the food. Jillian saw Cindy gently turn several people back towards their own tables before they got anywhere near Nik; only one made it past her for him to deal with personally, while she was busy at another table. Cindy met Jillian’s gaze with a smile, a small shrug, and a shake of her head as she shooed one back to his seat.

Otherwise, they were able to eat the delicious meal in peace, the conversation wandering primarily through the day so far.

When Cindy returned to clear the plates, Nikandros asked, “So what did he concoct for dessert?”

“Chocolate-lemon meringue pie.”

“Hm. I think pie all around?” He glanced around the table, then back to Cindy. “All four.”

“You got it.”

Ethan delivered it personally.

“Good so far?” he asked Jillian.

“I know where I’m coming for lunch anytime you’re open from now on, even if it is a bit farther than the old place.”

“Thursday through Sunday, we’re here. Later on Friday and Saturday. Give us a call and tell us you’re coming, so you won’t have to wait as long. Of course, if you do that, you’ll probably just have to live with whatever I hand you when you get here.”

“I’m good with that.”

The pie looked like a really appetizing but fairly standard lemon meringue pie… other than the shreds of dark chocolate sprinkled on top, and a thin dark layer between the crust and the filling.

There were, she discovered on her first rapturous bite, also shreds of chocolate between the filling and the meringue. Not enough to be overwhelming, but the two flavours flowed into each other better than she would ever have expected. The dark layer was melted dark chocolate, keeping the crust flaky instead of soggy.

“Oh god.” She closed her eyes, savouring it.

Ethan chuckled. “It worked out well, I need to do that one again.” He glanced back as the door opened and a trio came in; Cindy, unhurried but attentive, headed in their direction. “Back to work. That invitation to go out for coffee whenever you have time is still open, no hurry. Or some Thursday or Sunday, hang around after closing time, so I actually have time to sit down and talk.”

“It’s probably just as well you don’t know what I’d probably be willing to do for food like this.”

Ethan laughed. “What, and get Madame Min mad at me? Not a chance. Hey, Nik? Going to come check out my new place? One big old house, three apartments, Cin upstairs and Rill downstairs and I’ve got the main floor with the original farmhouse kitchen. Still a bit of work being finished, like a laundry room and upgrading the kitchen, and still unpacking, but it’s going to be great.”

“I’ll call you,” Nik said. “And we’ll figure out a good time.”

“Works for me. I can give you the address, and I’ll pass the date on to Cin and Rill, they’ll probably want to show you theirs too.” Ethan leaned down for a not-so-brief kiss, one hand on Nik’s shoulder; Nik slid a hand around the back of his neck to steady him. Jillian blinked, distracted. That was completely unlike the blank confusion of strangers or co-workers responding to satyr attraction. Ethan knew exactly what he was doing and what he was inviting, and that made it drastically different somehow.

She wasn’t sure it was entirely satyr influence that made her mind fill with vivid fantasies of sex with both at the same time. It was an effort of will to not start squirming, and to try not to think about whether her skirt was going to show the sudden dampness.

When Ethan straightened, he licked his lips, smiling, then winked at Jillian and walked away with a quick wave.

“Still up for awesome music?” Nik asked, as they left the restaurant.

“Absolutely,” Jillian said, and Flair nodded, practically bouncing in place.

“Lead on,” Min said.

This was definitely not the sort of club that was filled wall-to-wall with horny university students hoping to score for the night while sweating and grinding to the newest dance remixes. That was obvious even from the entranceway, while Nikandros was paying the cover for all four of them and they were getting their hands stamped.

The decor was all 80s, right down to the bold geometric colours and the album art on the walls. The staff were dressed the part—there was a lot of hairspray in use there—as were some of the customers, but definitely not all. A group of musicians were still getting set up on the stage, while around them on the dance floor, a dozen or so restless souls were already dancing to the hyperactive track playing over the sound system. One of the musicians looked oddly familiar, but Jillian dismissed it after a brief moment’s thought. She couldn’t place him, and it was probably only an indication of how successful they were at looking like a genuine New Romantics-type band. With the makeup and the frilly shirt, she wasn’t even a hundred percent certain ‘he’ was the correct pronoun, although as she recalled the 80s, it was highly probable.

While there were a few of the usual standing-height tables along the edge of the dance floor, and a scattering of high stools to go with them, there were normal-height tables with chairs back from that, and booths along the walls.

Nikandros claimed a table for them that was about midway between the extremes, one that would give them a good view of the stage.

A waitress stopped to ask them what they wanted to drink. While they waited for her to return, Jillian studied the band.

“I keep getting the feeling I know him.”

“I doubt you’ve met him personally,” Nikandros said, though he sounded amused. “They don’t live around here.”

“I suppose you have, though?”

“I meet a lot of people, treasure. No one ever tells me I’m not on the guest list or I don’t belong somewhere. Good thing I have an excellent memory for names and faces and personal details.” His forehead furrowed thoughtfully. “Although less of a memory for where and when, I admit.”

“Where and when are often not intrinsically a part of who someone is,” Min said. “And what interests you is always, above all else, who.”

“Satyr tendency. You won’t mind, will you, if I can lure Jill and Flair out to dance?”

“Of course not. I’d expect nothing else.”

“I haven’t been out dancing in a while,” Jillian said. “No promises I was ever any good.”

Nik chuckled. “Does it matter? Just have fun. That’s exactly what everyone else here is doing.”

They lingered over the drinks, enjoying the company and the atmosphere, while the band got themselves set up and went through the usual band chatter. Jillian didn’t recognize the name of the group, and concluded that she was imagining similarities.

They really were a very good band, though, and their musical choices were centred heavily around only three well-known 80s bands with occasional other covers.

Jillian didn’t resist when Nik urged her and Flair both to their feet and out to the dance floor. Between the excellent music, alive and passionate and reminding her of what it felt like to be a teenager, and the shameless satyr who was just too sexy, and Flair’s playful high energy, it was easy to forget everything and everyone else, to just be right here and let her body move any way it wanted to.

It wanted, above all else, to move into closer contact with that too-sexy satyr, to gain and hold his attention.

She moved closer, sliding a hand around his waist to his back, where she could hook her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. That gave her an anchor to step closer still, pressing the length of her body against his and using her free hand to trace out the contours of his back through his t-shirt.

He wrapped both arms around her, linking them at the small of her back, and gave her an annoyingly chaste brief kiss. “Nice to see you having fun,” he said, close to her ear. “But we need to not ignore Flair.”

He had a point. That was enough to make her hesitate, re-evaluating.

On the other hand, Flair was still moving blissfully to the music, eyes closed. At least two men were sneaking peeks at her, but then, she was graceful and attractive and lacked any self-consciousness at all. Even Jillian had to admit that the combination was strikingly sensual, though not exactly sexual. Like her cats, Flair seemed to simply revel in her own body’s movements and sensations. For the moment, she wasn’t going to feel left out.

And Jillian was so tired of fighting the desire to get closer, to invite his touch and to touch him and then some. On the ship and at the Seahorse, there had at least been distractions—but since they’d left Min’s apartment to go out for supper, she’d rarely been more than a few feet from him. He’d called her strong-willed, but how long could that last? Especially in a situation like this one?

How long did she want it to last?

Weren’t there reasons to keep fighting, to monitor her own actions and keep herself under control?

Probably there were.

Min was right there. Min wouldn’t let anything bad happen. And that included Nikandros, who wanted Min happy and wanted humans to feel safe.

She nuzzled the side of his throat, pressing gentle kisses above his t-shirt. That scent triggered associations that tumbled all over each other, but the overwhelming emotions were intertwined arousal and fear and pleasure.

“Jillian.”

“Mmhmm?” Moving together made her whole body feel like it was humming, feeding the aching desire for more, but even that, she welcomed.

He sighed, smiled, and kissed her forehead. “Nevermind, treasure. I’m genuinely impressed that it took this long. You don’t need to think about anything but feeling good. Min and I will look after everything else.”

“Mm… does that mean I can just… do this?” She slid her spread hand down over his backside, exploring muscle and shapes.

“I suppose it does.” And he was certainty responding, she could feel it. All these layers of fabric were in the way. Was his penis a different shape when he was in his human form? Did his precum still have that slightly anaesthetic effect that had made it possible for her to get him all the way down her throat without gagging? She was tired of asking questions. It would be much more satisfying to investigate for herself. But when she reached for the button of his jeans, he gently caught her wrists and brought her hands up to his chest. “But not that. Clothes stay on.”

Other than that, though, he went along with anything she did. He was an excellent dancer, too, even when his attention was wandering, or was divided between Jillian and Flair.

Satyr influence was more intoxicating than alcohol. The longer Jillian spent within arm’s reach, dancing or sitting down with Min for a drink, the harder it got to keep track of, well, anything, in a blur of arousal and giddiness and frustration.

By the time her mind cleared, she was lying in Flair’s big bed, in the nightshirt she’d left here, with the lights off.

“Flair?”

“Hm?” Flair sounded sleepy.

“Did I seriously kiss you?”

Flair giggled. “Yes. I don’t mind. And Nik was right there, so don’t worry, I didn’t take any of the things you said you wanted to do too seriously.”

“I don’t remember most of what I said.” She remembered the kiss with crystal clarity, her hand around the back of Flair’s neck to hold her, and Flair not resisting at all, returning that kiss with enthusiasm. She was fairly sure that she hadn’t stopped at a kiss, that her other hand had gone wandering—at the very least. That was all a bit troubling, since Min had told her satyr influence only strengthened and exaggerated desires that already existed.

“You aren’t used to satyrs, and I was right there and familiar and easy to associate with some things. It’s okay.” Another giggle. “You kiss nice. I was pretty hyper too. I haven’t been to nightclubs very often.”

“Didn’t Nik get the band to play a couple of requests?” She gazed into the darkness. “Did I see him kissing the lead singer when he asked?”

“Yes, they did two requests, one for you and one for Mistress, and yes, there was definitely kissing involved in that, too. It was a really friendly kind of evening.”

“And I spent most of it all over Nik.”

“As far as he’d let you. You didn’t do anything any more extreme than some other people I saw. Jill, it’s okay. That happens to humans around satyrs. A lot of humans start reacting a lot faster than you do, even. But it drops off fairly fast with exposure. The best way to develop some resistance is spending a couple of nights with a satyr, but that’s not an option so, just time. Until then, well, we all understand.” Flair yawned hugely. “We had an awesome day and it ended with wonderful music and dancing and fun. We’re home safe and sound, Mistress and Nik are in Mistress’ room and you and I are right here and everything’s good. Stop fretting about it and go to sleep.”

That was probably excellent advice. With the adrenaline wearing off, her body felt tired and heavy, and trusting her companions to look out for her made it harder to get herself too worked up over what she might have done.

“Yeah, it was an awesome day. Good night.”

Next time: Jillian encounters unexpected consequences of the day’s outing.

Copyright 2019 prysmcat/Steph Shangraw If you share it: 1) I’ll be thrilled and flattered and grateful, since word of mouth is the best publicity, and that means you consider it worth sharing; 2) Please include the link back to the source or, alternatively, to my writing site below; 3) Don’t post the full text on other sites without my permission, don’t claim you wrote it, and don’t include it in any paid collection. For more of my work (novels and serials, fantasy and urban fantasy), more about me, or other ways to contact me, check out Prysmcat Books at http://prysmcat.com

She rolled over, suppressing a groan—so many muscles felt stiff that she couldn’t immediately identify them all.

Curled up on the far side of the rather large bed, though on top of the multicoloured blankets, was Flair. Clearly she’d been reading, though Jillian now had her attention.

“Good morning.”

“It’s morning?”

“Well, very early Sunday morning. You’ve been asleep for about twelve hours. I wish you didn’t have to go to work tomorrow, so there’d be longer for you to relax and recover, but at least I can look after you for today. Are you hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Why don’t you drop by the bathroom and then come back here, and I’ll go make you something breakfast-ish? How do scrambled eggs and bacon and toast sound?”

“Heavenly. But you don’t have to…”

Flair laughed. “Humour me.”

Jillian surrendered. “Thank you.”

“Mistress and Nik are still asleep, I think. Everyone else has gone home. Robe’s hanging over the foot of the bed.” Flair flipped her book upside-down and rolled off the bed to her feet. “That’s the door to my cats’ room, over by the bookshelves. The one by the mirror is the one out to the hall.”

“Right.”

Moving more slowly, and feeling old and decrepit compared to Flair’s energy, Jillian sat up and groped for the fuzzy peachy-orange robe.

This room was as large as her entire apartment, she thought. The bed was in the middle of the room, but off-centre, displaced in the direction of the door Flair used. The opposite wall seemed to be all enormous arched windows, right from end to end, though the darkness beyond hid the view. One corner had multiple well-filled bookshelves, as well as an antique-looking couch with sloped scrolled arms that just invited one to lounge and read, a small table at one end and a stand for a closed laptop at the other; there was a closed door in the side wall nearby. The other corner under the windows had sturdy-looking tables and a couple of large cabinets, and judging by the tools and such she could see, that had to be where Flair worked on the clay sculptures Jillian had heard about but not yet seen. In the corners flanking the door, Jillian could see a wardrobe and dresser and vanity similar to the set in the dressing room, and a full-length three-panelled mirror, and a couple of sets of shelves that held, well, probably just about anything that wasn’t books or art supplies.

The floor was something smooth and brown-black without any visible seams, warm and comfortable under her bare feet, and the walls were a soft cream trimmed with the same rich honey-brown wood that the furniture was all made of. Everything else was a riot of colour and texture, from the bedding and the curtains on bed and windows to the rugs on the floor and the upholstery of the furniture. The walls bore framed small paintings and plaque-mounted prints and outright posters and blown-up framed photographs, a mixture of adorable cats of all varieties, fantasy scenes, old-fashioned drawings that might come from inside books, and erotic paintings and photos.

Wrapped in the robe, she made her way to the bathroom, passing the kitchen where Flair was industriously gathering things from the fridge.

She tried not to look at her own reflection. Her own fairly short brown hair looked bland and boring after the long dark blue ponytail; her face, without Echo’s makeup, looked rough. It was just as well the robe hid most of the contours of her body, because she was sure she’d be no happier with them. Even her ears looked bare, and the world seemed flat and silent, without the soft silver chimes.

She used the toilet and washed her face in the sink. The box sitting on the counter made her smile: the same bleach and hair dye she’d used to turn her hair red before. Flair, looking out for her in small quiet ways.

She stopped in the kitchen door. “Can I help?”

“Nope. You can have a glass of orange juice while you’re waiting, but for today, I’m going to pamper you, so you can take it and go right back to bed.” While she spoke, Flair turned away from the stove to fetch a large glass, filled it with juice, and handed it to Jillian. “What do you want on your toast?”

“Um, just butter’s fine.”

“Go on, shoo. Help yourself to my books if you want. Or the laptop. It’s probably best not to peek at the cats until I’m with you, they aren’t used to strangers.”

“Is their room as big as yours?”

“Yes, and it has all sorts of climbing things and beds and hidey-holes for them, and tons of toys. They sleep snuggled and groom each other and play together, so they’re just fine even when I get busy for a day or two. Most days I get lots of time to spend with them. Off you go.”

Jillian went back to Flair’s room, glad she’d left the door open so she could find it. She settled herself back on the soft bed, sipping at her juice. She still felt tired and sore, which meant that in a way it was a relief not to have to do anything, but she wasn’t entirely happy about Flair doing extra work because of her.

But friends could do that, right?

There was no fuzziness in her memories this time. Min must have decided that she was able to cope on her own. She could remember now that she had met and spent time with Nikandros and both giants and Nechtan in human form, though that had been missing for twenty-four hours. She couldn’t really complain about that one, since those connections could have interfered with letting go the way she had.

Could Flair being there, seeing Jillian act like that, even the sexual contact they’d had with each other, interfere with friendship? Flair had insisted beforehand that it couldn’t, and she’d probably had better grounds to anticipate the sorts of things that could happen; if Flair thought any less of her, odds were against Jillian waking up in Flair’s own room with breakfast coming.

Was it going to mess up Jillian’s feelings about their friendship?

After some reflection, she concluded that it would be stupid to allow it to. Normal social rules didn’t apply with fae bargains involved, so it shouldn’t be significant any more than she’d been really cheating on Gary. Besides, who was she going to find that she could talk to as openly as she could to Flair?

And she certainly had a lot to think about, and having someone understanding to talk to was probably going to help enormously. Even if Flair really had little real grasp of why Jillian found so much so difficult to accept.

Oh sure, why should it be difficult to accept that I seem to be turning into two different people? One ordinary and normal and sane, and the other one a shameless kinky nymphomaniac? Why should it be difficult to accept that I can get into a headspace where what I want becomes totally about what others want and the more I have to push myself or the more helpless I feel, the more crazy turned on I get? Hey, nothing to it, perfectly straightforward to get my head around. Argh. Not.

But Sati led me into thinking about consent and trust being important, and Henry made me realize that I get clarity and certainty I don’t have in real life, and Nikandros redefined everything into a vacation instead of a 24/7 lifestyle. Those are really seriously big concepts, and I think I’m going to have to figure them out before I can figure out how I really feel about yesterday, or the future, or fae, or myself.

Other than being seriously bloody embarrassed, anyway. Dear god, some of what I was doing…

Flair returned with a tray. “Here we go. It’s no big surprise you’re worn out. Eat up. You can fall back asleep if you want to, anytime today. Well, except while we’re doing your hair.” She waited for Jillian to rearrange herself, then set the tray on her lap before joining her.

As promised, scrambled eggs and bacon, in generous quantity, and toast. Simple enough, but it tasted like ambrosia right then.

“You aren’t hungry?”

Flair shook her head. “I wasn’t using Mistress’ elixir, and I was under a lot less physical and mental strain. I think I slept more, too, I learned a long time ago to be pretty good at sleeping when and where I can. I’m all right. I got you tucked in and cleaned up everything and then had a decent supper with Mistress and Nik. Although I did fall asleep pretty soon after that. Anyway, today is for pampering you. And as long as you still have that collar on, you can come back here after work.”

“That kinda sucks, that I can only be here if there’s still an outstanding bargain. ‘Cause I don’t think I’m going to be in a major hurry to sign up for forty-eight hours.”

“There… there is another way, but it’s not quick or simple and it’s up to Mistress to offer it. And they usually don’t until after a third bargain. I know it looks like absolutely everything is on their side, but they do put energy and time and resources into pets and favourites. And feelings, too. But unlike them, humans can lie and try to cheat or just get cold feet and try to change their minds. That makes things difficult for them. Any fae who likes that sort of thing isn’t one you want to bargain with. So they offer more, the more certain they are that they’ll get what they want in return. Just like any other relationship, right?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I know they’re really happy with you, ’cause you keep promises and do your best even when it’s hard for you.”

Jillian blushed. “It’s getting really hard to not admit, at least to myself, that part of me is liking it.”

“I know. They know. And that only makes it better. So why are you blushing?”

“Because it scares the hell out of me.”

“Why?”

Jillian sighed. “Let me think about that one for a bit. Sati and Henry and Nikandros all pushed me into thinking about things in different ways and I want to see if I can put some pieces together. But I’m probably going to want to talk it through eventually.”

“You know where I am. And I certainly hope you know I’ll do anything I can and I’ll try to understand.”

“Yeah. And I am really grateful for that.”

“Me too. So it works out nicely, hm? I bet you’re still exhausted. Eat up, then doze back off, ‘kay? For today, you’ve got nothing at all to do except eat, sleep, meet my cats, maybe soak in the tub, whatever will feel good.”

* * *

Going to work Monday morning felt discordant and unreal.

Spending Tuesday night at Gary’s place was, possibly, even worse. Still holding out hope that she could get her increasing sex drive grounded back in her real human relationship, she’d considered bringing up anal sex, but given his mood, she was reluctant even to suggest things they’d already done, like her being tied up. The result was unsatisfying, more dutiful than enjoyable—and yet, lacked the fierce arousal that she knew could come from doing things regardless of her own desires. Some part of the equation was missing. She consented, but Gary seemed to have little desire to accept whatever was on the other side of that coin. There was no reassuring certainty, no clear way to tell what he wanted, since even verbal communication was limited when he was in this sort of mood, so she had to make educated guesses, all too often without being quite sure whether she was on the right track or not.

What she wanted was someone who would—within the boundaries—restrain her and use her, let her hand over power and responsibility, let her stop over-thinking and just obey and put him first, tell her without ambiguity what he wanted and whether she was succeeding. What she had was someone who showed little interest in any of that. So much for men being innately dominant and adventurous. Odd little thoughts crept in about giving that power to a woman instead, but she banished those. She really did not want to cope with re-evaluating her orientation on top of everything else right now!

At least at work, Brett’s harassment was no longer contributing to her stress levels. But for some reason, that wasn’t making her any less reluctant to drag herself to the office every morning.

Especially since, aside from her evening with Gary, she went directly to Min’s apartment. Flair was so delighted to have her around that she kept making delicious meals, the sort of thing Jillian typically lacked the energy or motivation to prepare after already working all day. As wonderful as the food was, it was more the peace and warmth and company that kept bringing her back.

Next to the kitchen, accessible through a sliding door she’d noticed but hadn’t bothered to ask about, was a dining room, and much wider sliding doors offered access between dining room and living room. Like the rest of the villa, they were spacious and luxurious, no question, with a rather old-fashioned slant that still allowed for modern conveniences, but they were also clearly designed more for comfort and ease of use and an idiosyncratic kind of beauty than as a display of wealth or style. But then, this was Min’s private domain—only she and Flair lived here, and only Nikandros had ongoing unrestricted access. She discovered that occasionally close friends were invited in specifically for dinner or to relax in the living room, but outside of that, it was Min’s kingdom and she could arrange things to suit herself.

Min wasn’t always around, but Flair was, and welcomed her enthusiastically. Even the cats, tabby-and-white sisters who were shy at first, got used to Jillian’s presence and let her pet one while Flair had the other.

Both Min and Flair avoided the subject of bargains and the tangled feelings associated with them, not with any sense of awkwardness or dismissal, but whenever the conversation drifted that way, Jillian got the feeling that they were deliberately giving her space and taking care not to corner her into talking before she felt ready. For that, she was intensely grateful. Without it, her evenings with them would have been far less relaxed.

They spent one evening with Flair, under Min’s supervision, taking a long list of detailed measurements of Jillian’s body, while Min brought up the websites of several corset-makers she considered worth the expense and offered suggestions about style. Between them they narrowed it down to one corsetière in particular, and then to one style that was meant to be worn on a regular basis. Min recommended discussing the choice of fabrics before ordering it, to make certain that it could be made of something that could tolerate being under clothing frequently, apparently not a given with some finer outer layers.

Next time: a Saturday out with Min, Flair, and Nikandros – Nik’s treat, and he has a surprise or two planned. (Yep, I know, this one was short and not breathtakingly exciting. Sorry. Will try to get back to posting 2x a week, life permitting.)

Flair took naps, too. One was with Dagrun. Another time, Jewel saw her snuggled against Mistress, head resting on a loop of scaled tail with other loops draped around her. The rest of the time, she took care of drinks and food, but her current jobs apparently included little sex—except with Master, who was clearly always up for it.

Nechtan and Nikandros each wanted to try between her thighs, as did Hyld; Henry and Nikandros each wanted between her breasts, though Hyld declined that one. Since the only way she could get any of them down her throat was with Nikandros’ help, at one point she was on her knees, her wrists fastened to rings on her corset so she couldn’t use her hands; Henry and Nechtan and Hyld took turns, while Nikandros lounged in a chair and let her go down on him for a bit between them to keep her gag reflex tamed. Around that, there were plentiful opportunities, with or without her wrists restrained, to practice her new skills with female anatomy—including Mistress’ slightly alien snake-form slit and Sati’s cool vulva where it was less unsettling for Jewel to keep her eyes closed than to be unable to make out any detail. After every six, more or less, she got her reward, and it was invariably a very powerful orgasm—once in a sixty-nine with Flair while Sati was fucking Jewel again, once thanks to Henry’s clever hands. Once, Nechtan took over her hands and masturbated himself with them, out of her control—then used her own hands on her moments later without releasing control, while she was still wildly aroused from that.

Sati asked for another photo session. With permission, once she got Jewel into the right pose she froze her there briefly, long enough to get the photos she wanted from multiple angles, and apparently video as well, and all the while, her own hand freely stroked her helpless—and desperately turned-on—work of art.

And she still needed four more for her own next release.

When Sati freed her, Jewel headed for Nikandros, who was currently in a chair playing that three-sided game against Sigrun and Henry. On her knees, she nuzzled hopefully at his penis.

Nikandros looked down at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for your mouth again, treasure, as wonderful as it is. I imagine Henry and Nechtan would like a change too, maybe Hyld. Can you think up anything else?”

I would never have thought of half what I’ve done in the last little while! She searched mentally for any idea she’d ever encountered, anything that might suggest a direction. Even if it wasn’t feasible, it would get her points for trying.

“Or,” Nikandros said, “you don’t have all that long left. I’m sure you could survive the frustration for a couple of hours. You’ve already done very well, and no one has any complaints. You can relax and just be cuddly eye candy for the rest of the time, if you want. You need four, it’s possible you can talk all four women into another round. We can relax that bit about not repeating any one person in a set.”

No it wasn’t possible. Dagrun had said on her previous one that she was done for the night, and thanked her. She might be coaxed into it for Jewel’s sake, but that felt deeply wrong.

There had to be something.

Wait. She was missing the obvious again.

Oh no no no no… nothing is supposed to go up there!

Oh, shut up. Lots of people do it and like it, right? Can’t be that bad. And it’ll be different.

Three or four? First time? Oh god…

“You could fuck my ass, Master,” she offered.

Nikandros, reaching for a piece on the board, let his hand fall and regarded her with interest.

“Since that hasn’t come up yet, I assume that’s not a normal thing for you.”

“No one ever has,” she admitted. “Not really. One boyfriend talked me into trying, but I was so nervous and he was sort of impatient and mostly it hurt enough that I called it off pretty fast. He got… he got all the way in, but that was it. And that was a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter. It’s something I have that’ll be different, and I’m not scared. Much, anyway. And sort of excited too, I guess? That kind of thing I keep getting, when I end up doing something that feels naughty and bad and scary but I do it anyway because I want… I need to please, and that gets me crazy turned on, and then it scares me later. But right now, I want to really badly.”

“That would be a hard thing to resist,” Henry mused.

“Yes, it is,” Nikandros agreed.

Sigrun shrugged. “We can finish the game later. You aren’t getting out of your bet that easily, Nik.”

“Fair enough,” Nikandros said. “I don’t want you to have a bad experience that’ll stay with you. You being on top would give you more control to judge speed.”

“I don’t want control, Master,” Jewel said.

“You’ll have it if I bloody choose to give it to you.”

“Sorry, Master.” What she wanted didn’t make any difference. What was she thinking?

“I do understand, though. As abundant and effective as your own lubrication is, I’d prefer something that’ll make things even more slippery. Stay right there.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sigrun stretched and wandered off.

Henry looked Jewel over and licked his lips. “That offer only open to your master?”

Oh god, what am I getting myself into?

I’m doing my job. Who the hell ever heard of a sex toy with not just one, but two basic orifices of three off limits? Be grateful they chose to wait and let you offer instead of just demanding it!

She smiled at Henry. “No, of course not just to Master. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Looking forward to this. Sexy toy anyway, one with a nice tight virtually-virgin hole… yep.” He got up and left… in Nechtan’s direction.

Nechtan’s big. Bigger than Master, who’s bigger than Henry, who’s sort of tied with Hyld. Can I even stretch that far?

Trust Master. He doesn’t want you to hate the whole idea forever more.

She was getting rather apprehensive by the time Master returned… and, unsurprisingly, she was extremely wet and aroused. The whole idea felt like deep submission to her role and her place, offering access to a private and intimate part of her body that would probably give her little or no inherent pleasure but would feel good to them. Or was it just removing even the most tenuous and voluntary barrier to access, acknowledgement of what they could do if they chose anyway?

“Over here,” he said, beckoning her towards one of the platforms. This one was a bit higher than some, the one that had worked well for her to kneel on so one or another could fuck himself between her thighs. That made sense… but the fae were really into doing things from behind. “One last time, you get the option of being on top.”

That felt… wrong. She shook her head firmly. “I would rather not, Master.”

“Kneel at the edge, please.”

She knew this position by now, and assumed it immediately.

“Knees farther apart.”

Master’s finger stroked the rear strap of her chastity belt, and she felt it part into a ring again, a rigid thing of substantial size that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

Then she felt his fingers, probing farther forward, exploring the wetness. She moaned, wishing they were inside her. “My, you are all turned on by this, and I’m not even helping. That’s a good thing. The more aroused you are, the more relaxed you’ll be. The more relaxed you are, the greater the chance that you’ll decide that having someone up your tail isn’t so scary and can feel good. Hell, I like it, from both sides, but there’s a physical difference between men and women.”

“Yes, Master.”

The first finger on her anus didn’t penetrate, it just circled, flicking over it light as a tongue. Teasing. When it finally pressed inwards, it was nearly a relief, even though she groaned. The discomfort was more psychological than physical. That was dirty… right? Just a yucky biological fact of life. It slid in and out, and finally out altogether, and found less resistance when it returned.

That Master cared so much about not hurting or scaring her drove the apprehension back considerably. He wanted her to enjoy this, not just endure it.

“You’re a genuine treasure,” Master told her, his fingers still moving, loosening that tight ring of muscle. “And one hell of an amazing sex toy. That’s not about instantly having no inhibitions and an encyclopedic knowledge. It’s about a sincere and strong drive to please, and obedience without hesitation or complaint even if you don’t know the reason, and pushing your own boundaries when they’re in the way.” Intent on his words, she noticed only distractedly when the first finger was joined by a second, stretching her wider. “You? The more we ask of you, the more enthusiastically you give it. The more owned and controlled you feel, the more turned on you get, regardless of what you’re actually doing.”

“Yes, Master.” It came out with a bit of a gasp, since both fingers thrust inside in the middle of the second syllable.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head right now, treasure.”

“A bit of fear,” she admitted. “More… not excitement, exactly. Wanting very badly to be the best sex toy I possibly can, because it feels so good to obey and please, but it isn’t about me feeling good…” She faltered, tangled up in the complexity of the layers.

Master chuckled. “If you weren’t getting anything out of it, you wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Getting pleasure from giving it isn’t so unusual.”

“But it isn’t just that. Part of what feels good is feeling like… like less than a person. Like a possession to be used. And… that scares me, that I love it so much.”

“So what’s wrong with that?”

“I worked… I work hard to be independent. And that’s the opposite.”

“Yep.” She whimpered softly as he nudged a third finger in to join the first two. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it wasn’t exactly not pain, either. But that was okay. “So? How does wanting to take a break sometimes undermine being independent?”

With her attention divided, she tried to think that through. “Part of me… wants it to be for always.”

“Mmhmm. In the middle of something that feels wonderful and makes you happy, it’s normal not to want it to ever end. But take my word for it, treasure. It wouldn’t work so well in practice anymore than living on your favourite cheesecake or trying to make Christmas morning last all year. Twenty-four-seven indefinitely, it really would get old and boring. At least, without a serious rewrite of your whole personality, and why the hell would we want to effectively kill you? But what’s wrong with a vacation from being responsible?”

“I… nothing?” That was certainly a different perspective that she needed to think about when less distracted.

“Well, that’s what I think, but what you think is up to you. What else are you thinking right now?”

“Not much else. Mostly just wanting so badly, worse than anything, to please you and Mistress and your friends any way I possibly can, and to… to prove how completely I’m yours. Being scared doesn’t matter. Hurting a bit doesn’t matter. All that matters is being the best toy I can.”

He withdrew his fingers, and slathered more slippery stuff around and inside—one finger seemed to fit fairly readily now. “You already deserve several thousand stars out of ten.”

Right now, that approval felt wonderful. Master was pleased with her, and that made all the effort, all the moments she’d shoved aside her own fear and discomfort and self-consciousness, absolutely everything worth it.

That wasn’t a finger she felt pressing against her this time. She rocked backwards encouragingly. If having him deep down her throat had made her feel so good, how much more deeply owned would this make her feel? A reasonable level of fear or pain was perfectly acceptable—in a way, it was even more proof of how completely the need to serve eclipsed any other concerns, and that made her feel even better.

“Be still. You’re only allowed to do one thing. When I’m pushing inwards, you push outwards like you’re trying to force something out. Otherwise, don’t move.”

She bit her lip and tried to pretend to herself that she was frozen in place, that she could only stay motionless and feel with no influence on events… while paying close attention to his rhythm and obeying that one command. Pushing like forcing something out wasn’t difficult, although she wondered why she was supposed to.

It did hurt a bit, these small thrusts that went deeper each time, and she heard herself whimper, her breathing turning ragged, but she wouldn’t have stopped him even if she believed she could. Fae might wait for consent, but she was unsure of the response to any attempt to withdraw it, since that might make the earlier agreement less true. Or he might stop, to protect her, but it could be uncomfortable for him, and she didn’t like that idea at all.

She knew when he had the head of his penis entirely inside, because she felt her muscles contract with something still in her. She moaned softly, wishing she dared press backwards and get him deeper.

“So far so good, treasure,” Master said. “Doing okay?”

“Yes, Master. More than okay. Please?”

“Slowly. I’m sure you’ll get quite enough in the immediate future, I don’t want to rush things and have you end up in serious pain. I decide how fast. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Sorry, Master.” The flush of dismay over needing a reprimand lingered only a moment, before the sensation and the awareness of Master pushing deeper inside her with each thrust washed it away.

One little disturbing thought snuck through the crack it left behind, though.

I’m dressed like… like this, I’m on my hands and knees with someone in my ass, and others around who are probably watching and listening and at least a couple are waiting for their turn… and I’m loving this? What the hell is wrong with me?

Go away, I’ll deal with you later, she told it firmly, and turned her attention back to what was happening behind her. And in her.

Inside wasn’t terribly endowed with nerve endings… but then, most of the pleasure she found in vaginal sex came from sensation and friction near the opening and the pressure against her vaginal muscles, which wasn’t so different from this, really… She wasn’t sure she was enjoying it physically, but she wasn’t sure she wasn’t, either. The mental satisfaction was too intense for it to matter anyway. She was here to please, she was Master’s toy, she was fulfilling her primary purpose, Master and Mistress were happy with her, the world was currently a perfect place.

She felt woolly fur against her bottom, and knew he was all the way in her.

He drew back, not all the way out, just until she felt the flared head catch on the ring of muscle, and slid back in. He’d used so much lube that there was virtually no friction. Her body remained ambivalent about the intrusion, but nothing was really putting up a fight against him.

“Oh fuck, you feel good, Jewel,” Master said, and it was half a sigh. He ran the fingertips of both hands up her thighs, and finished with his hands on her hips, steadying her for another slow thrust.

Jewel moaned, wanting to rock into it and meet him, but unwilling to risk another reprimand. This time, she wasn’t supposed to be responsive, she was just supposed to stay still.

After a couple more, he pulled out completely. The sudden emptiness made her whimper, but a heartbeat later she felt pressure again, and sighed happily as he slowly sank back inside her, right from tip to root in one long slow push. A couple of partial thrusts, then entirely out again, and back in.

His fingers flexed in her hips as he began to move faster, though he kept the force carefully limited at first. Jewel locked her elbows, let her head drop, and lost herself absolutely in the moment and the new sensations and the exquisite feeling of being her master’s plaything.

Speed and force increased, and she heard him grunt in time with a few short fast hard thrusts. He shuddered and stopped, still deep inside her.

When he withdrew that time, she felt a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment, with a thread of relief—it did hurt a little, but not so much she couldn’t just consider it her body’s attempts to adjust. After all, corsets, high heels, and vaginal sex had all involved some initial discomfort, too.

Without really shifting her position much, she did flex her legs and arms, one at a time, making sure nothing was going to give out on her.

Then she looked around behind her for the nearest male, smiled, and said, “Next?”

“Hyld?” Henry said.

Hyld chuckled. “Age before beauty.”

Henry’s dextrous fingers, stroking her inner thighs and as much of her vulva as he could through the chastity belt, were familiar. In fact, the belt parted under them, letting those fingers play around the entrance to her vagina, probing inside. Not for the first time, but right now, it only made her even more intensely aroused. The heat and wetness and hunger of her own body had dropped half a step out of her awareness, eclipsed by the drive to serve her master and the joy of doing so, but this brought it all back. She whimpered and pressed backwards.

“You owe me an answer still, pretty thing. What do you gain when you’re a toy that you don’t have the rest of the time?”

She’d been trying, intermittently, to think about that one, and hadn’t yet come up with a conclusive answer. None of the several possibilities felt right.

But as he asked, it snapped into place.

“A bunch of things,” she said. “But for me, maybe the biggest one is certainty.”

“Certainty about what?”

“About exactly what I’m supposed to do and whether I’m doing it right.” She swallowed, hard. “No wondering what anyone wants from me and whether I’m living up to it. No wondering whether I should be doing something different or if I’m doing something wrong. I spend so much time trying to live up to what people want and usually not knowing for sure whether I’ve succeeded… when I’m here, I know what my place is and what I need to do and whether I’m doing it right, and there’s no doubts about whether I’m failing. No… not so many distracting thoughts about what I should be doing or what I need to do next or what I forgot to do or what anyone thinks about what I’ve already done. And I’m getting better at ignoring them. Someone will tell me what to do, or the voice in my head will tell me I’m on the wrong track. And when I get it right, someone will tell me that, too. Everything is clear and simple. And for me, that’s… comforting isn’t a strong enough word.”

She licked her lips. It was a revelation on a par with the one she’d had with Sati about choice, and right on the heels of Master starting her thinking about seeing this as a vacation instead of a self-negating desire to surrender all identity forever. She had a lot to think about once she had time—and she hoped Flair would still be there to help her sort it all out. “There’s… there’s other things. A kind of freedom to do what I normally wouldn’t dare. Really intense physical pleasure… mental too, tied in with that. They matter too. But I think those would be harder to reach without feeling, well, not just physically safe, but… sure.”

“Everyone’s truth’ll be different on that one, pretty thing. But that sounds like truth to me.” She felt his fingers move, toying now with her anus, and a finger or two seemed to have little trouble. She braced herself, but his penis was a little smaller than Master’s, and fear had been replaced by anticipation, and that made this easier.

He was never rough with her, but he didn’t take as long as she half expected he might, this being his fourth orgasm. Or was it the fifth? She’d lost count, and didn’t feel like trying to work it out just now.

Master, perching on the edge of the platform, cupped a hand around her chin to make her look at him. “Need a break, treasure?”

Jewel considered that. In a way, she’d very much like one, for several reasons. But it would mean heading to the bathroom to clean up, and she wasn’t sure how long it might take to start tightening up again, and she was going to need every possible advantage for Nechtan.

“No, Master, I’d rather not.”

“You’ll probably be a bit sore regardless. I’d rather you didn’t push too hard.”

“I’m all right, Master, really. I’ll be more sore if I get less relaxed.”

“Not likely that quickly, but okay, I’ll let you call it. Just keep in mind that you can ask for a break.”

“Yes, Master.”

She wouldn’t have believed, before this, just how easily Hyld would be able to slide inside her, or with how little resistance. But then, there was no lack of lubrication and by this point, the normally tight ring of muscle must have given up—she doubted it was significantly damaged, given how careful Master and Henry and now Hyld were.

“Oh, you do feel lovely, blossom,” Hyld said, long fingers stroking Jewel’s bare upper back and shoulders lightly. That was a pleasant sensation in itself, and a bit of distraction from the current intense focus on her backside.

She was fairly sure that, while Hyld was gentle, there was also no attempt at prolonging this. Jewel made a conscious effort to clench tightly on the way in and relax on the way out, thought at moments her body protested.

That groan reminded her of wood under stress, as the elder-fae climaxed inside her.

Which left only Nechtan.

Even though a break would feel very good, the thought of Nechtan’s considerable size brought her apprehension back. As much as the risk of muscle tightening and lube drying, she feared that her own fear would make her back out if she spent too much time thinking, and Nechtan deserved better. She could do this, no one would let her be harmed.

So, she took a couple of deep breaths and flexed her arms and legs again. They weren’t going to hold out all that much longer, but long enough for this. She looked around for Nechtan. He wasn’t even in the water, though he’d stayed close enough to it that he must have been keeping himself damp, judging by the glisten of his skin. She wriggled her bottom, smiling at him. “Coming?”

“I’m unsure about possibly overloading you when this is new. I would prefer that you not develop negative associations with anything.”

“I’m all right, and I’m not going to. I’ll take a break soon. Please?”

As he moved into place behind her, she closed her eyes, trying to focus on breathing. She knew he was larger. She knew this was going to be uncomfortable, might hurt a bit. But it would make Nechtan feel good, and that was far more important. She could prove beyond question how sincere and deep her need ran, to put their desires above her own comfort.

Her breathing instinctively accelerated when she felt pressure against her anus, and she forced it to slow down. Aware of the considerable mess on her inner thighs, almost certainly a mixture of semen and lube with her own free-flowing juices, and of the intense pulsing heat of her own fierce arousal, she made herself focus on every millimetre as Nechtan pushed inside her. Slippery as she was, and relaxed as she was, stretching around the extra girth nonetheless made her breath catch, and she whimpered softly more than once. Probably it was mildly painful, but it didn’t feel like it—it just made her feel very full, and very much owned, and that made her feel much too blissfully satisfied for mere pain to register as such.

“Jewel? You’re okay?”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed happily. “Very.”

Her breathing sped up again as he began to thrust, with care at first, but she moaned and pressed backwards encouragingly, and unlike Master, he didn’t reprimand her for it.

Right now, nothing existed except her body and Nechtan’s, the part of his that was inside hers, and the ecstatic dual certainty that in this moment, she was in perfect compliance with all expectations and she was valuable useful property.

She felt him climax, with a convulsive thrust or two that did come across as pain, but she could accept that.

Her arms were beginning to tremble perceptibly from the strain, she noticed distantly, as he carefully withdrew.

She felt rough fabric against her inner thighs and the crack of her ass—cleaning her up?

“Hm.” That was Master’s voice. “From experience, treasure, you’re going to want to head for the bathroom immediately. In the interests of minimizing the mess until then…” She felt him stroke the vertical strap of the chastity belt, and the ring collapsed inward… very far inward, in fact, it nudged itself inside her and expanded there into something ball-like. She whimpered, though neither the mass inside nor the stalk connecting it was really all that large. “When you get to the bathroom, and not before, say the word release and it will open again. Flair’s going to make sure you get there without falling.”

Flair spends a lot of time holding me up, Jewel thought dazedly.

Flair and Master steadied her to her feet, then Flair hovered close beside Jewel while she tried to adjust to walking with her hips feeling loose and the odd sensation that only the rubbery intruder was keeping all her internal organs from sliding out along with what felt like an awful lot of stuff squishing around inside.

“You’re, um, going to want to be on the toilet when you tell it to open,” Flair said. “Just take my word for it. Once you’re safe there, I’ll go make you a light snack so it’ll be ready when you get that far. You’ll be okay, it’ll just take your body a bit to adjust.”

It felt like a long journey to the bathroom.

Flair lingered until Jewel dropped down heavily to sit on the toilet, her skirt out of the way, then said, “I’ll be in the kitchen,” and left her alone.

Jewel took a deep breath, and said, “Release.”

The rubber writhed and reformed into a ring.

And her body rebelled, in concert with gravity, promptly expelling the collection of semen and lubricant from her lower guts—possibly mixed with some matter from higher up, and certainly mixed with a bit of air.

Not so clean-and-sexy doll-like, that, but that was biology for you, always disrupting fantasy.

Arms wrapped across her lower abdomen, she stayed where she was until she was reasonably sure that there was nothing more to come. Having wiped and flushed, she cleaned herself up thoroughly.

Her hips still felt loose, and the fact that the belt remained in its ring form didn’t help the precarious feeling of everything being in danger of slipping, and she was perceptibly sore, but the sense of satisfaction beat those easily.

Flair wasn’t in the kitchen, but on the counter were a plate of fruit and cookies, a glass of juice, and the bottle of elixir with a spoon.

Probably a good idea. She had a spoonful of elixir before she ate.

The mundane activity really did nothing to reduce her own arousal. If anything, because it was less distracting, it left her even more acutely conscious of it.

She’d given six again, though. She wondered what Mistress and Master would do as her reward. There probably wasn’t enough time remaining for another round of the game, which would make this her last.

It would, in a way, be a relief. Though the elixir had pushed it aside, her feet were complaining about being trapped in high heels for so long, and her abdominal muscles were increasingly unhappy about the corset being laced so tightly for an extended period. On top of that, she knew she was exhausted, underneath the adrenaline and euphoria. She wasn’t at all sure she could keep this up much longer.

Something to keep in mind: if she ever made a third bargain, it would be for twice as long. Whether what she was asked to do pushed her comfort zone or not, it would definitely push her physical endurance.

A third bargain? Dear gods… what could be worth forty-eight hours of…

… of feeling blissed out, no matter what I think of myself afterwards?

And yet, part of her wanted to ignore it all, even knowing it would only get worse before it could possibly get better, wanted to never take off corset or boots, wanted her whole purpose in life from now on to consist of being used for sex without regard for her own satisfaction, because what could be more satisfying?

Not that there was any chance of it, Master had made that quite clear… but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about it, right?

She finished, cleaned up, and went back to the salon.

Mistress beckoned her over immediately, and drew her down to lean against her, cradled in a multi-layered curve of scaled tail. That no longer seemed particularly strange; if anything, there was a deep subtle comfort in Mistress’ touch, Mistress’ hand stroking her hair and cheek.

“One more reward for you, dear, and you’re done. If all humans paid their debts as wholeheartedly as you do, I imagine some fae would probably make a lot more bargains.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Scales shifted and slid around her, and she could feel powerful muscle that she was sure could crush the life out of her with minimal effort, but she honestly found she felt no fear. She did squeak in surprise when the ripples lifted her up, so there was a coil under her as well as a couple around her back, like a living chair. Something else shifted and she realized that she was now at the edge of the raised cushioned platform, still supported by Mistress.

Master dropped a low stool in place between Jewel’s feet, and perched on it, nudging her knees apart.

“You are going to taste amazing, treasure. I’m not sure which of us this is a reward for.”

At no other point had anything involved two fae at once, only at most one plus her and Flair both. But maybe rules were different for a couple? Not that it mattered, it wasn’t up to her.

What was up to her was to surrender to Mistress’ gentle hand and to Master unzipping her skirt so he could nuzzle between her legs. The chastity belt, under his influence, drew back, though she thought a thin layer was still keeping her outer labia parted to allow him easier access. She quickly discovered that nothing else was shielded from contact any more.

He was enthusiastic, to say the least, and there was no shortage of fluids for him to lap up, but that didn’t keep him from paying just as much attention to deftly sending her into writhing whimpering rapture… and eventually, having brought her just shy of the point of no return several times over, he let her climax.

Gulping air, sagging limp against Mistress’ coils, Jewel hoped fervently that no one asked her to move right away. She was quite sure she couldn’t have to save her life.

Mistress, very gently, rearranged herself so Jewel was still supported but could recline more, without the loop directly under her.

“Rest, dear. There’s no hurry. We’re both very, very pleased with you, and there is nothing else you need to do. Once you feel like you’re ready, Flair will help you get cleaned up, then you can eat something more substantial and get some real sleep.”

“Thank you, Mistress. And Master.”

Master pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are very welcome, treasure.”

Jewel wasn’t sure how long it was before she collected her wits and began to feel less like all her muscles were made of overcooked noodles. Mistress, conversing with Sati and Hyld at the moment, showed no sign of impatience, but she did smile and pause what she was saying when Jewel stirred and sat up.

“Flair?” Mistress didn’t have to raise her voice—Jewel discovered that Flair was perched on a chair close by, waiting.

Flair rose immediately to steady Jewel to her feet.

“You spend an awful lot of time looking after me,” Jewel grumbled.

Flair just giggled. “Right now, you need it, and it’s perfectly understandable. I don’t mind.”

In the dressing room, Flair gently helped her out of skirt and mitts, then had her sit on the bench and did boots and socks. The chastity belt was now missing entirely, so presumably Master had taken care of that.

“Brace yourself,” Flair warned, moving around behind her to start on the laces of the corset. “It’s been tighter for longer and it’s going to be a shock. Remember, lie down on your back for a minute if you need to.”

“I remember.” She couldn’t quite contain a low grunt of discomfort as the laces loosened. “Feels good while it’s on, but wear it too long and it can start to hurt, and taking it off feels bad. Not fair.”

“Well, if you’re wearing one all the time, it doesn’t hurt. Bodies adapt. But you need to either get to that point gradually and carefully, or expect some unpleasantness while your body gets used to it. The ones we picked up at the lingerie shop are really not meant for intense use. I meant to talk to you about that, then more important things came up. Since you’re liking them so much, it might be worth asking Mistress who to contact for a really good one that’ll give you this kind of support. But if you wear it a lot, you need to remember that it’ll weaken your back and belly muscles because they won’t get much use, so exercise can be a good idea.” She stepped around in front of Jewel to reach for the corset clasps. “Ready?”

Jewel took a deep breath and nodded.

It did feel ghastly, the sudden lack of support. The moment Flair whisked the corset away, she laid back, waiting for her abdominal muscles to adjust.

“I’ll talk to her,” she said, looking at the ceiling and monitoring her own breathing. “There’s something awfully addictive about them.”

“Told you. I’m going to put this stuff away. Don’t move, just relax.”

“Not much chance of that anyway.” Her leg muscles were distinctly unhappy about her heels being back on the floor instead of elevated several inches, her clit and her anus were both sore, and fatigue was starting to catch up.

After a few minutes, she did feel better. Somewhat. But showering was going to have to be largely on willpower and the need to obey Mistress’ implied orders.

At Flair’s prompting, she went to the vanity, dropped heavily onto the seat, looked into the mirror, and said, “Echo? Help? I need to get cleaned up.”

The reflection blinked, and Echo, smiling, stripped away the silver earrings for her, then the elastic from her hair even though Jewel could have gotten that for herself. Then she made a shooing motion and the reflection went back to normal.

Flair had already swapped the yellow hair goop for the purple one that would restore her longish blue hair back to its natural colour and length, and the pale green stuff was there from earlier.

She stepped out of the shower looking much more her normal self, if still lacking body hair.

Wrapped in a thick fuzzy peach robe Flair produced from somewhere, Jewel followed Flair to the kitchen, and obediently ate a well-filled sandwich and a couple of bakery cookies.

By then, Jewel was sure her batteries were just about completely drained.

Flair urged her to a room Jewel hadn’t been in before, but the relevant bit was the big old-fashioned canopy bed with the blankets turned down invitingly.

Flair slipped the robe off her shoulders for her and tucked her in. “You’re absolutely safe. Sleep as long as you need to.”

Next time: a short morning-after chapter, before we start to see the consequences of this whole experience. Thanks for hanging around this long to see what happens to Jillian! She still has big changes in her everyday life ahead, and Min’s already planning a fun new way to distract Jillian from stress, and Jillian finds herself more and more absorbed in the world of fae and the humans who belong to them. So stay tuned! 

Being a sex toy, her own desires in a distant second place below the desires of her owners and their guests, was about as satisfying as anything she could ever have imagined anyway. Which actually made it deeply erotic simply because she was doing it despite her own lack of attraction, and would do so with proper enthusiasm, although there was something paradoxical and confusing about that.

She just hoped the leather of her outfit could handle it. But then, her satin last time had refused to allow any soil, so probably it was fine.

So, she kept playing with his captive finger, and he made no effort to extricate it.

He must have finished whatever the important point was, because he asked her to let go, then planted both hands on the edge of the basin and heaved himself to his feet.

The layer of fat just under the skin effectively hid any muscle tone, but she wasn’t sure she could really call it flabby, any more than a seal or dolphin was. Presumably it was useful insulation in cold water.

He gave himself a few second for excess water to drip off, then offered Jewel a hand. “Come along.”

She closed her hand around his, was drawn to her feet with impressive strength, and went with him a short distance away.

“Kneel,” he told her, gesturing to the centre of one of the low platforms.

My outfit needs knee-pads.

Jewel complied, grateful at least that he didn’t want her right in the water. Wet leather didn’t sound good.

He sat beside her, and immediately reached for her breasts.

Okay, he’s into boobs. That works.

She planted her hands behind her and arched backwards, exposing her chest prominently and offering it at the same time.

As bland as she often found men playing with her boobs, this was different. This wasn’t happening with some expectation that it would immediately make her horny and cooperative. She was already both to a whole new level. This was someone playing with her simply because it was something he felt like doing, purely for his own pleasure. Her breasts, like the rest of her, existed for the use of others. And that, paradoxically, meant that his touch, his fingers stroking, his hands kneading her flesh and toying with her hard nipples, his cool mouth on her skin and sucking on her nipples, actually did make her fiercely horny.

“Your mistress would be displeased if I wanted milk from you,” he chuckled. “Lie down. On your back. Be comfortable.”

Wondering what was coming, Jewel did so without making any effort to tuck her breasts back into their cups, finding one of the round cushions to support her neck.

Once she was settled, Nechtan knelt straddling her. That made her a little nervous. He was significantly larger than her, and she wasn’t sure she could bear his weight.

He was quite high up her body, though, his weight stayed almost entirely on his own folded legs, and his hands immediately went back to her breasts for more fondling.

With her hands free now, she figured she needed to be more active, so she returned the favour: running both palms over his chest, using her long blue nails and her fingertips to gently tease his dark brown nipples. That made his breath catch, which she took as a good sign so she continued, venturing outwards irregularly, then coming back.

After a moment, he caught her hands and cupped them around the outside of her breasts, pressing inwards.

All right. If he wants to fuck my boobs, I can do this. That’s a perfectly viable option within the rules.

Just to encourage him, she looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, please.” Would bad language be a turn-off? It might. And she really had little experience with dirty talk anyway. She groped around for anything she could use for compliments, as per Flair’s advice. In human terms, he wasn’t physically very appealing, but she liked him and there had to be something she could seize on.

Truth. Just flat, simple, truth.

“It isn’t my place to like or not like, Master said to be impartial. But you were very kind to me last time, a lot more than you had to be, you even made Roshanak stop being mean to me, and the control thing with my hands to fill a plate for you… that got me so turned on. Even if it still scares me how much I think I’m liking not having control, it keeps sneaking into my fantasies. I really honestly like you, and I really badly want to find a way to show you that and make you feel half as good as you made me feel.”

He listened silently, intently, with no expression she could read.

Then he smiled, and trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Thank you. And you are.”

“Good.” She wriggled her breasts back and forth and gave him an inviting look. “Well? If you need lube, my mouth is right here, or there’s lots of slipperiness right behind you.”

“I’ll spare you that.” He took her up on the latter, one hand moving across her rubberized vulva for a moment, then wrapping around his penis.

Which, she realized, was actually large. Quite large, in girth and length both. Also, somewhat slippery-looking on its own.

She let her breasts separate enough for him to place his penis between them, then squashed them back together tightly around it.

He rocked backwards, then forward again. Jewel concentrated, for the moment, on getting used to the rhythm of it and keeping the pressure high.

“Ease up on the way back,” he told her. “Tighter on the way forward. Oh, yes, just like that.”

Once she adapted to that and it no longer needed her full attention, she just couldn’t resist the mottled brown penis head that was coming so very close to her lips with each thrust. As he reached the end of the next, she licked the tip playfully.

He shuddered, but didn’t protest or otherwise respond in either direction.

So, she started adding licks and kisses—sometimes she misjudged and missed, but that just made it a game, seeing how often she could add something a bit extra. Once, she managed to crane her neck enough and time everything exactly right so she could get the entire head of his penis briefly into her mouth—and it was certainly a substantial mouthful. There was an odd, not-entirely-pleasant taste mingled with what she thought was her own lubrication, but it didn’t trigger any particular disgust, so she figured she’d be able to deal with it and get used to it.

It didn’t take very long after that for him to make a few quicker shorter thrusts, and unload a volume of semen onto her chest and neck that, even with his size, was larger than she’d have predicted.

Once he freed her to move, she ran two fingers across her chest and licked them, smiling at him. “Yum. Thank you.” It was genuinely not all that bad, just a little fishy-tasting. And deep inside, she felt warm and elated. So far, despite everything, she’d been succeeding.

“Thanks belong to you. You go beyond what is technically asked of you. Do you think I’m unaware that humans generally find my kind of fae difficult to touch at all?”

Jewel’s forehead furrowed. “Same humans who’ll find someone attractive and charismatic like Zipporah who thinks humans are prey? Humans can be stupid and shallow. I think I’m learning not to be. Or to be less, anyway.” She smiled at him again. “So if you think of anything else I can do for you, please let me know so we can do it. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“I have no doubt I can think of many things to do with a beautiful open-minded toy who loves to please and loves to feel controlled.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Meanwhile, you should get yourself cleaned up. The giants and Sati are all waiting patiently.”

“Right.” She accepted his hand to her feet, and headed quickly for the bathroom to get clean. Again. All this sex was messy, but it wasn’t as though she could expect anyone to let her serve when she was still a mess from the one before.

She had five. She only needed one more, and there were three she had yet to spend time with. On the other hand, nothing in the rules said that she got to have her reward the moment she reached six, either. It was hardly appropriate, as a sex toy, for her to put her own release ahead of making sure all eight of the fae she was serving had at least one round each—no matter how desperately she wanted it. She was fairly certain that Mistress and Master would still count the extra two forward towards the next, but even if not, she’d have to take that chance.

Clean, she stopped in the kitchen only long enough for a mouthful of juice before returning to the salon.

Scarcely in the door, enormous hands, frosty-pale and cool to the touch, wrapped around her waist and hoisted her off her feet.

She squeaked, startled, though not exactly afraid. Sigrun hadn’t gone as big as Dagrun had to rescue her, but she was still huge. Jewel, in her hands, was no larger than a child’s ragdoll.

“I found you a sexy little doll, Dagrun,” Sigrun chuckled.

Dagrun, at much the same size but sitting in a chair, held out her hands. “Oh, can I?”

Sigrun handed her captive over, from cool hands to warm ones. Dagrun held her up to look her over critically, turning her around and back again.

“So, little doll. What business do you have looking so sexy, hm?”

“That’s my job,” Jewel said. “It’s my whole purpose right now. Making Mistress and Master and their guests feel good. I’m a sex toy. What would you like me to do?” Each of Dagrun’s ample breasts, she thought, had to be at least twice the size of her own head. The hands around her spanned her waist effortlessly, and not just because of the corset holding it relentlessly narrower than usual. What on earth could she do, with the giants so big?

She wasn’t supposed to doubt herself. She was just supposed to do what she was told and put everything she had into making eight fae feel as good as possible.

Swinging in mid-air was a rather surreal feeling. It put all of her weight directly onto her corseted torso, the rigid leather distributing the load but the pressure increasing overall. And she was absolutely helpless.

“You’re a sex toy,” Sigrun echoed. She ran a finger up Jewel’s inner leg, up under her skirt, and withdrew it. “One who really likes her work.”

“Be nice,” Dagrun said, and brought Jewel over to sit her on one huge knee, Jewel’s legs dangling down on either side of Dagrun’s broad thigh. It could have been a position with some potential, without the chastity belt preventing accidents. “So, cute sex toy, are you enjoying your work?”

“Very much. I can’t wait to see how many other kinds of sex I can have and how many more times I can make people feel good. I love this.”

“You love what, little one?”

“Nothing to worry about or wonder about, just obey enthusiastically and I get to feel good and make other people feel good.”

Dagrun chuckled. “Well. Clearly you aren’t currently miserable.”

Jewel shook her head. “Not in the least. Tomorrow I might be, but right now, I’m fine. And that is not Master playing with my libido.”

“Fair enough, then.”

“So,” Sigrun said, “vaginal intercourse is forbidden, which is not relevant to us, and you must give six orgasms to be permitted one of your own, correct?”

“And they can’t be from the same person twice in any one set,” Jewel added.

“You have how many?”

“Five.”

“I imagine you want that reward badly.”

“Well, yes. I mean, everything is just getting me turned on beyond words, But it would be rude to run off and ask Master or Mistress for it with two people being ignored. That puts my pleasure over theirs, and that’s not right. I can’t do that. I’ll wait. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it knowing that.”

Sigrun shook her head. “I wonder whether your Mistress and Master understand just how much of a treasure you are. Dagrun has had a bad day. In fact, she’s had a stressful week. Do you suppose, little toy, you can help her to relax?”

“Oh dear. I’ll do everything I possibly can, at least.”

“Good. Then I’ll leave you to it for now.”

Jewel looked up at Dagrun. “If you can’t think of anything specific right now, maybe I could help loosen up tight muscles? I know when I get stressed, my neck and shoulder muscles get sore. I’m not a massage therapist, but I might be able to help.” If nothing else, with any luck the contact would start lowering stress levels a bit.

Dagrun nodded. “Move over here.” Carefully, she helped Jewel relocate, so she was standing on the seat of the chair and leaning on the arm.

While unfastening lacing at the front of her halter, Dagrun shrank.

By the time she shrugged off her halter and offered her bare back, she was down to her minimal size. Still much larger than Jewel, but at least she could reach.

Everything being scaled up, she used both hands almost always. With Dagrun sitting on the edge of the chair and Jewel behind her, she could readily reach her neck and shoulders and upper back while standing. The heat she could feel through Dagrun’s faintly-golden pale skin might have been feverish in a human, but probably was normal for her.

The fire giant bowed her head forward, submitting quietly to Jewel’s hands.

There are some complicated power dynamics going on here, Jewel reflected, but she needed to concentrate.

“That feels wonderful,” Dagrun said eventually, with a deep sigh. “And I am very pleased, by the way, that you do not feel as though ‘sex toy’ means that you are an inert object to simply be acted upon.”

“That seems… um, outside of something specific like being a statue… mostly sort of boring on both sides.”

“I feel so.” Dagrun shifted back a bit further from the edge, and Jewel let her hands fall, waiting to see what was coming next. “Come kiss me. Over here, step across me, I won’t let you fall… there. Down you go. I can take your weight.”

That was… interesting. The size difference was a factor, but also, it was the first time Jewel had kissed a woman that way. And doing it while sitting on Dagrun’s lap, her booted legs wrapped around Dagrun’s waist, with Dagrun’s arm supporting her from falling to the floor?

I kissed a girl and I liked it. All soft and warm and gentle, and she tasted faintly of caramel and of vanilla lip balm.

“Down,” Dagrun said, after a bit. It sounded less like an order than a suggestion.

Jewel eagerly started kissing her way down Dagrun’s throat, lingering to nibble lightly, then down further to her chest. She hesitated before going further, looking to Dagrun for permission.

“It’s all right, little one. I’d like you to.”

Jewel halfway disobeyed: she investigated with her fingertips, first, feeling the smooth skin, the firm resilient flesh beneath it, the slight roughness of her areolae. And with her eyes, noting the creamy colour with blue veins showing beneath, the deeper pinkish-gold of her areolae.

“You’re beautiful all over,” Jewel told her, only half thinking, “but these are amazing.” She lowered her head to flick the tip of her tongue across one large nipple. “I think I’ve been seriously missing out on something. Men can be fun and exciting, but it never occurred to me just how wonderful another female body could be.”

Dagrun chuckled. “Some of us feel so.”

She needed to remember to go slowly and to tread lightly—Flair had said Dagrun’s reactions were highly sensitive, and that might apply here too. She wanted Dagrun distracted from her worries and, in the end, as deeply relaxed as possible, which wouldn’t happen fast. Jewel took her time about exploring by touch with her fingers and with her mouth. Closing her mouth around one nipple and sucking on it was a bit eerie, the size difference made her feel disturbingly like a child, but she managed to dismiss that.

Dagrun showed every sign of enjoying it, with soft sighs and moans, one hand curved around Jewel to keep her close, the other stroking any area of Jewel she could reach.

“I think we need off this chair,” Dagrun said. “Don’t move, I’ve got you and I will not let you fall, but you should relax your leg muscles.” She wrapped both arms around Jewel’s hips, and hopped off the edge of the chair.

The floor should have been a couple of feet down.

Was it? There was no jolt of impact. Jewel felt Dagrun’s size expand briefly, the motions that might be a couple of steps, then felt her size shift back to what it had been as she lowered Jewel gently onto the edge of a platform.

Jewel shook her head hard. “Size is really flexible for you, isn’t it?”

“Size and mass and dimension are… not as absolute and objective as they seem with human senses. Big and small have less validity than bigger and smaller. If you could peek at Sigrun and I in my villa, you would have no way to tell whether we were this size or too large to fit in this room, because both of us and the villa would be on the same relative scale. But giants are particularly good at manipulating size and related concepts, yes. So, little toy, I’m feeling much more relaxed, but I think an orgasm might be the cherry on top, and I think I’d like to see what else that agile tongue can do.”

“Absolutely,” Jewel said promptly. “I’d love to.”

Dagrun unlaced the waist of her calf-length side-slit red leather skirt, but Jewel rocked forward quickly to help pull it down, with more contact than strictly necessary. No underwear. The fire giant stretched out on her back, and Jewel arranged herself in the broad V between her spread legs.

No surprises, no exotic flavours, though as with everything else, the size difference was significant.

Jewel tried to keep in mind what Flair had said: with Dagrun, be indirect and keep pressure light. Explore and experiment and tease, without getting too intense too quickly. She wasn’t sure she knew enough to be able to judge by Dagrun’s responses whether she was doing it well instead of just acceptably.

Back to telling the truth.

“I’m really enjoying this,” she said. “And I’m in no hurry. But I don’t want to go so slow I drive you crazy or so fast it feels wrong or so light it bores you or so hard it hurts or anything like that. I really want to help you feel as good as I possibly can. Will you tell me? Please? If you want me to do anything different or anything special?”

“I will,” Dagrun said, rather breathlessly. “If I think of anything.”

Well, that seemed like a good sign.

Light and indirect, spiralling in, Flair had said.

Now and then, Dagrun offered small corrections, but for the most part seemed content to let Jewel do what she wished.

A finger inside, two, even three got little reaction—not surprising, given that her fingers were comparatively very small. She kept playing with that, though, and got to where only her thumb stopped her four fingers. With a silent prayer that she was doing it right, she tucked her thumb in tight and tried wriggling her whole hand inside.

Dagrun moaned; Jewel froze.

“It’s all right, little toy. That feels good. Not hurting me.”

Jewel went back to her efforts. Once she got past the opening, she closed her hand into a fist and kept the motions short.

Dagrun chuckled, a low rumble of sound, and muscle flexed around Jillian’s hand and wrist. “You’ve had advice. Flair?”

“Yes.”

“Mm. Feels good.”

Not long after that, Dagrun’s breathing grew more ragged, catching intermittently with soft cries.

“Out,” the giant gasped, and Jewel drew her hand back, freeing it from the hot tunnel and the powerful muscles squeezing around it with a little difficulty.

When Dagrun climaxed, Jewel realized why: quite possibly, those muscles could have done some damage to human bones.

Dagrun relaxed, panting. Jewel lingered a moment, then crawled up over her to snuggle close; the giant wrapped an arm carefully over her. Jewel could feel the rapid thunder of Dagrun’s heart gradually slowing.

“Thank you, little one,” Dagrun said finally. “I feel much better.”

“I’m glad.” And that was definitely the truth.

“You put quite a lot of time and effort into gaining your sixth and earning your own.”

“I’d be doing the same thing without the game,” Jewel said. “It’s a nice thought, knowing that I do get rewards. And it would be a lie to say I don’t really badly want it. But I wouldn’t want it as badly if I cared less about doing my job the best I can.”

Dagrun chuckled again. “A difficult trap. I don’t think Sigrun will add much time, she is much more direct than I am. Do you need a break?”

Jewel paused, evaluating. “No, I’m okay.”

“Up you get, then. Tempting as it is to hold a cute little one like you for a long time.”

“Mistress said I’m supposed to take naps,” Jewel offered, obediently moving aside so Dagrun could sit up.

“Then by all means, find me then.” Dagrun glanced around the room, and waved. “Humans are adorable when you’re asleep.”

“Less so when we’re awake?” Jewel teased.

“You are things other than adorable when you are awake.” She sounded amused, not annoyed at all, but then, everything Jewel had seen yet of Dagrun suggested that she was possibly the most tolerant fae she’d met.

“Feeling better?” Sigrun asked.

“Very much,” Dagrun said, picking up her skirt. “Your turn.”

“Looking forward to it.” Sigrun perched on the edge of a chair, leaned back, and unlaced the front of her pants… lacing that went quite a long way down and across her groin, in fact, and had been holding it closed sufficiently overlapped for protection or modesty or whatever her goal was.

Jewel knelt between Sigrun’s spread feet. She was glad Dagrun had been able to relax, but this position was going to be easier for this.

Be direct, Flair had said. Stronger pressure.

Sigrun, she concluded quickly, had a lower body temperature than she was used to, the way Dagrun’s was higher, but not uncomfortably so.

She tried, a little cautious about overdoing it and getting a negative response, but the more vigorous she was, even edging towards rough, the more Sigrun encouraged her verbally and with the motions of her hips and with the flow of slightly cool frost-giant juices. Sliding a hand inside worked, and Sigrun told her more than once that she could be less delicate, so she pumped her closed fist back and forth with care not to get anywhere near her cervix—that wasn’t likely to be pleasant for a woman of any size, male fantasies aside. And when Sigrun climaxed, she did so less quietly than Dagrun did.

“Well done, little one,” Sigrun told her. “If you are determined to delay your reward until everyone has had a chance to play with you, I suggest you go clean up and visit Sati.”

Jewel nodded. “Thank you. And I’m glad you’re happy with me and I could help you feel good.”

“I know.” Her voice, never exactly harsh, was very gentle. “Off you go.”

Back to the bathroom. At least the walk gave her a chance to stretch. She stopped in the kitchen for a drink and a handful of grapes but decided to wait on other food for the moment.

Master was waiting for her in the corridor, leaning against the wall.

“I’m told,” he said, “that you’ve decided to delay claiming your reward.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Mistress and I didn’t state whether any orgasms you win, over and above six, will carry over past a reward, or whether the count starts off fresh.”

“I know, Master. I decided that it’s worth the risk.”

“How so?”

“Because it would go completely contrary to the spirit of what you told me I am, to put my own pleasure ahead of whoever was left, which turned out to be Sigrun and Sati. That suggests that my pleasure is more important than theirs. Or my relief, or my comfort. It’s the same with any of those. I’m being good and looking after myself like Mistress said. And I’m doing my best to do what you said and be enthusiastic.”

He smiled, and her knees felt weak. “You’re something special, treasure. We’ll let them carry over. Mistress and I are not going to punish you for wanting so badly to be fair and do your job well. We’re hearing nothing but good things about how you’re doing. We’re both proud of you, and you’ve definitely earned a reward.”

“Thank you, Master.” She frowned, distracted from his scent and her memories of how his penis had felt in her throat by a thread of anxiety. It would be hard to talk if she dropped to her knees and started kissing it. “I’m really liking making women feel good, but I’m noticing that there’s less variation than with men. I’m a little worried whether I’ll be able to stay creative enough for them.”

Master chuckled. “Men of any kind will devise an amazing range of ways to get their cocks inside something. So the variations are obvious and easy to categorize. With only women involved, things tend to be a bit more subtle without clear-cut borders. Instead of finding a way to insert a penis somewhere novel that may or may not be rewarding for the other person, what you get is a lot of mouths and hands, and rubbing various body parts against various other parts. Some like toys, some don’t. As long as you do what you’re told and you try to avoid falling into a rote sequence of memorized moves, I think you’ll be fine. Mistress, Sati, and the giants will understand that you don’t have any experience and the nature of the issue, and it’s up to each of them whether they choose to accept what you offer.” He grinned. “The males present may hold you to higher standards in regards to creativity and daring, since that’s more like playing the game on the easy setting and you do have at least some experience.”

“Boring experience. Um… did I mention that I have a history with games of doing well on early levels, then getting discouraged by higher ones and giving up?”

“Treasure, if you give it your absolute best shot, which you clearly are, and you find that you just can’t and you give up, the worst consequence will be your own frustration from then until the end. Mistress and I won’t be mad at you. But if you feel like you’re stuck, you have the option of asking for help. We want you to win this game. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. Actually, I don’t want you to worry. Just keep going like you are and have some faith in yourself.”

“Yes, Master. I’ll do my best. Can we play again soon?”

“Oh, you’d better believe it, sexy. But right now, Sati’s waiting for you.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sati, interestingly, was alone—the only fae who was. Dagrun and Nechtan and Mistress were talking; Sigrun and Henry and Hyld were playing a complicated-looking game on a hexagonal board with pieces of three different colours.

Jewel crossed the room directly to Sati, and knelt in front of her, hands behind her. She remembered Sati’s touch last time, posing her for photographs she still hadn’t had the nerve to ask for, the way those midnight hands had spoken to her through that alone until she’d begun to feel like just an extension of Sati’s will with no need to see or hear.

“All done?” Sati asked. Jewel listened for any note of annoyance or impatience, but heard none.

“I’m yours to play with. I’m sorry you had to wait. I’ll do anything you like that will make you feel good.”

“You look lovely on your knees, but stand up so I can admire the view properly. Other than having several perfect clones of you or some method of altering time, it’s unavoidable that someone must wait. Anything I like, hm?”

Jewel rose, spread her feet, and linked her hands behind her. “Mistress’ rule is that I’m not allowed penis-in-vagina intercourse. Anything other than that is fair game. I honestly want to please and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Do you have much experience with toys?” Sati ran her cool fingertips from Jewel’s throat down over her breast, down over her torso, exploring shapes and textures. That was a bit distracting.

“I have the one Master gave me last time, and I’m playing with it lots and it’s wonderful, but I don’t think I’m very good with it yet. I’ve bought vibrators a couple of times, but mostly haven’t found them very earthshaking. Nice for a few minutes and then sort of monotonous.” No point asking why that was relevant, Sati would explain when or if she chose. Meanwhile, she was still stroking.

“I rather like toys and tools. They can augment and enhance without changing the underlying reality. Like a corset giving you curves for women to envy and men to lust after, or in some cases vice versa, without permanently altering your body. Even a satyr’s precum, temporarily allowing acts that would otherwise be beyond reach without experience and effort, is in the same category. Toys broaden the options available.”

“That makes sense,” Jewel said, on reflection. “A lot more sense than toys being for desperate singles who can’t do better or couples in trouble in the bedroom.”

“A very narrow view. You’ve allowed yourself to be turned into a living, breathing, animated temporary work of art, physically and mentally, an object for us to play with, so one could make a case that anything involving you is essentially masturbation with a toy.”

Another time that might have been upsetting; right now, it felt like an incontrovertible statement of fact, and a highly erotic thought.

“Master says I’m a sex toy,” she agreed.

“The use of toys on a toy… interesting concept.” Sati stood up from her chair, which allowed her to reach better. “You are certainly a work of art,” she murmured, her hands never still. “If I could freeze you, I’d build a whole multi-media exhibit around you. One about women’s sexuality, and the strength to claim one’s own true identity, even if it flies in the face of what is currently proper. Not so long ago, a woman insisting that her sexuality was anything but subservient to her husband’s was considered mad or possessed. A woman whose interest in sex was anything but a way to get children and who did not tolerate her husband’s lust as unpleasant duty was clearly ill or unable to resist sin. Now, a woman whose inherent nature is to derive her ecstasy from surrendering control and pleasing others is considered weak and self-hating and is undermining all women. Fortunately, there are always women strong enough, or whose true nature runs so deeply, that they can transcend the limitations placed on them.”

“I haven’t,” Jewel said, shivering under Sati’s hands. “I’m not that strong. I scare myself. I’ll probably hate myself tomorrow.”

Sati kissed her gently. Her silvery lips were cool, too. “Be patient with yourself. So. A whole exhibit featuring women who have defied the values of their cultures to be themselves, with you in the centre as the most recent in the chain. My gallery is in the same city you live in, so potentially, anyone you know could decide to visit, and see you there frozen… but I think they wouldn’t recognize you. I think I might allow photography freely, so that even after I freed you, echoes would remain and spread, of you all sensual and aroused and utterly helpless by your own consent.”

“I… whoa.” Revelation, pieces snapping finally together, jolted Jewel out of the fantasy. “That’s actually really obvious, isn’t it? That’s why Brett at work frightens me and it’s exactly the opposite of a turn-on, but being here makes me so reactive to everything. It’s not lack of control that does it. It’s lack of control that I agree to and when I feel safe. Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“Because you live in a society, one of many, that fails to differentiate clearly between assault and a voluntary negotiated surrender.” Sati pressed against her back, and Jewel shivered, as much from the faint chill as from pleasure in the contact. Dark arms wrapped around her waist, one sliding downward so her palm was over Jewel’s mound, hidden beneath a layer of leather and one of rubber. “You know that we will keep you safe, correct?”

“I was… less sure of that last time. Now I know for sure. And that it’ll end when it’s supposed to. It makes it less scary. That part, at least.”

“Experience. And knowing that the terms are understood and will be honoured, you can allow yourself to live within that conditional loss of control.” Sati’s breath on the back of her neck was like an early-winter breeze. “You can say no. I do not want this without genuine consent. Will you allow me absolute control for ten minutes? Only that long.”

More control than now?

Oh. This is Sati.

It was a frightening idea… but an exciting one, too. Ten minutes wasn’t long, and she believed Sati.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” That was practically a purr, close to her ear. “I have every intention of rewarding you for that trust. But there’s another thing I want to do first.”

Oh god. Which meant the anticipation and the apprehension had time to build.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

Sati released her, but touched a high stool with a large padded top shaped like a thick horseshoe. The height adjusted itself. “Bend forward. That will support you.”

Jewel did so, her arms under her to reduce the pressure directly on her breasts, her feet spread for balance.

Sati unzipped her skirt entirely, and those cool fingers stroked Jewel’s hips and bottom.

“I assume you know what a strap-on is?”

“Yes,” Jewel said. Is she? Would she? But… no, it’s not actually a penis, so it’s inside the rules…

“Better still are the sort that don’t actually need straps.” Sati circled around into her line of sight, and brought something dark violet out from under her sari. One end of it looked like a fairly ordinary artificial penis shape of substantial but not impossible size, with pronounced veining on it. The other end, though… it bent at a fairly sharp angle, and there was some contouring of some sort there, and it ended in a fairly large egg-shaped bulb. “As I said, augmenting reality. This end,” she tapped the bulb, “goes inside me, and my own muscles hold it there. The other end goes in you. It will feel very good for me. I hope it does for you too. One can always hope that one’s toys get pleasure from being used.”

Um… eep?

Although… getting seriously fucked would actually feel wonderful right now. And this is inside the rules.

If Sati wore anything under her night-sky sari, Jewel hadn’t yet been able to perceive it. She was reaching under a fold of it with the toy as she moved back around behind Jewel.

Not much surprise that she didn’t need any lubrication other than Jewel’s own.

The feeling of the chastity belt parting under Sati’s touch was interesting. The barrier over her clit remained, though.

She felt the cool smooth touch of the head, rubbing around the mouth of her vagina and her inner lips, smearing itself with the copious fluids available. Then it began to nudge inside, a fraction deeper with each micro-thrust.

Jewel moaned, pressing backwards. Even if she never actually climaxed from intercourse, as horny as she was it would still feel very good right now.

In ways, it was very similar to being fucked by a man. The shape and texture and the raised veins all felt very good sliding in and out, in ways more than any living penis she’d ever encountered, or was it just Sati’s skills, or some combination? Sati was oddly quiet—if exertion even changed he breathing, Jewel couldn’t tell. She didn’t waste time worrying that it meant anything. At least she was learning to take the fae as they were and not make assumptions about biology.

If being penetrated had ever had a chance of making her climax alone, that would’ve done it: her own role and appearance as a toy, her consent to Sati hanging over her, the sheer physical sensations. It didn’t, but a time or two she was sure it was going in the right direction.

Behind her, Sati shuddered, and the toy jerked erratically for a moment, presumably responding to the spasmodic clenching of Sati’s inner muscles even though she still didn’t make the slightest sound.

Another difference: the toy didn’t soften.

After a moment, Sati backed up a step, and the toy slid free with a squishing sound.

“Very nice,” Sati said. “Stay there.” She circled around to where Jewel could see, the toy still casually in place but forgotten. Instead, she had her phone in her hands. She turned it so Jewel could see the screen and a countdown app set to 10:00. “Precisely ten minutes.” She laid one hand on the back of Jewel’s neck, and hit the start button on the phone with the opposite thumb.

Something shifted, very slightly, Jewel couldn’t even have said what, but her body stopped obeying her. Joints froze in place, muscles refused to flex, she couldn’t even move her eyes to track the phone as Sati set it aside and moved back out of sight. Her diaphragm had at least a little freedom, though her breathing seemed to be extremely slow and shallow without making her feel short on air; her pounding heart slowed down as well.

Instinctively, alarmed, she struggled against it. If she fell, she wouldn’t be able to catch herself. She was completely helpless to defend herself against anything…

Like Sati’s exploring, probing fingers between her legs… and then Sati’s cool breath, and what had to be her tongue and lips, and the rubber didn’t seem to be in her way at all…

She would have whimpered, but she had no voice. Her sense of touch was obviously working just fine.

“You do have permission to enjoy this fully,” Sati said, between licks. “You earned it, and your Mistress approves. And I’d be very pleased with you.”

Oh my god.

Jewel couldn’t quite keep from straining, or at least trying to strain, against whatever was holding her, but it was more of a reflex than any genuine belief that it would have any effect. And even the attempt at resistance was utterly in vain, since she couldn’t tense any muscles to try to fight against it the way she could if she were restrained in a more conventional way. She was more absolutely and blatantly helpless than she could ever recall being, unable to control anything, even her slow breaths, while remaining completely clear-headed and alert. Anyone present could do anything, and she couldn’t resist, couldn’t protest, couldn’t twitch a single muscle in response to show whether she liked it or hated it. Absolutely just an object. A toy to play with, an art piece to look at.

She was much more frightened of the intensity of her own arousal than she was of Sati or the other fae and anything they were likely to do.

Not even her internal muscles could clench consciously, she discovered, even though she wanted to and tried to, and wanted to moan in frustration but couldn’t do that either. She couldn’t react, couldn’t let Sati know how incredibly good it felt, couldn’t do anything to encourage her…

Which, actually, was a kind of freedom. Instead of part of her mind calculating the correct responses to give her partner, there was literally no responsibility to do anything except passively experience it, because she couldn’t do anything else.

Ten minutes suddenly didn’t seem like all that long.

What would a day be like?

Or weeks, in Sati’s gallery?

Dressed like this, on display, vulnerable to any touch, just something for everyone to admire, but not a person with free will, just an art object in the gallery.

She would have moaned as she climaxed, or possibly more than that. She couldn’t make any muscles work on her own, but she could feel them clenching and releasing in convulsive slow-motion pulses.

And, insanely, it didn’t stop. The intensity climbed with each slow wave, spreading gradually outward, pure ecstatic bliss that seemed to go on forever until she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream for mercy or cry or just howl.

The downward side of the highest peak was no faster than the climb.

The world came back, but she was still frozen. From outside, no one would have had the slightest idea what had just happened, she thought dizzily.

Something beeped.

“That’s ten minutes,” Sati said, and wrapped an arm around her waist for support.

Just as well she did. It meant Jewel didn’t fall when her paralysis abruptly released her and her muscles tried to continue attempted motions that were now out of sync.

“Here,” Sati said, and the stool readjusted its height to a more comfortable level before she helped Jewel sit down. “I so love doing that. That was a very shallow level of freezing, by the way. Orgasm in deep levels, with your metabolism slowed many times what it just was, can take much, much longer.”

“I don’t know if I could survive that,” Jewel said, certain it came out a bit dazedly.

“Practice and experience. Flair, maybe you could get Jewel a drink? It may be a moment until she can stand up.”

“Sure,” Flair said cheerfully. Jewel blinked, and saw Flair’s alabaster-and-metal back heading for the door. That wasn’t right, Flair wasn’t supposed to be serving her.

“Thank you,” Jewel said to Sati. “Except that’s not enough.”

Sati laughed. “I believe in positive reinforcement.” It was hard to tell from her tone how serious she was.

Flair returned quickly and dropped to one knee to press a glass of juice into Jewel’s hand.

“I think I can safely leave you to your sister’s care,” Sati said, letting her hand slide off Jewel’s shoulder, and left them.

“Sister?” Jewel said fuzzily.

“Same owner,” Flair said. “Take a sip, go slow. She made you come while you were frozen?”

“Yes.” The simple juice tasted like nectar.

“Fun, isn’t it?”

“Um… somewhere on that spectrum, for sure.”

“See why being frozen’s not a punishment if you know you’re safe?”

“Maybe. Ten minutes isn’t long and I spent part of it a little freaked even if I did agree, and part of it too blissed to think.”

“She hasn’t got photos of you yet, and there’s still lots of time. You might get another chance. You could probably use something to eat and a nap.”

“Maybe… maybe just a little one. I’ll have to find Dagrun. She’s in a snuggly mood.”

“Dagrun is generally in a snuggly mood. She’s as bad as me with my cats. She’ll love it if you cuddle up against her for a nap.”

“If I can find a reasonably comfortable position. I’m a bit less flexible than usual.”

“You can. You’ll see. Are you okay alone?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Jewel visited the kitchen for a more substantial meal, eaten slowly in consideration of her corset, then went back to the salon.

Dagrun greeted her with a smile. “You look a little shaky.”

“I think this would be a good time for a nap,” Jewel said. “But I need a place to sleep and someone to wake me up in an hour or so.”

“Easy to arrange. Come get comfortable.”

So, Jewel dozed off, possibly with help, cradled carefully against a very large, very warm giant.

Next time: the later part of the party, and Jewel finds new personal boundaries to push in the name of being the best toy she can be.

Mistress beckoned her over. “Come let me look at you. Stay on your feet and put your hands behind you so I can see.” Jewel obediently did so, her feet shoulder-width apart as Master had directed earlier, and kept her eyes low while Mistress took her time looking her over. Mistress even got up and made a slow circle around her, her tail a shining scaled ring on the floor around Jewel, then a second loop that spiralled close enough for her to touch. Her hands made Jewel shiver, wishing she were restrained so she couldn’t possibly disobey involuntarily. “Oh my. I expected wonderful and you’ve surpassed it. I doubt your master could resist playing with you before he sent you here, hm?”

“Master was happy with me, Mistress.” That seemed like a fair assessment.

Mistress chuckled and looked at her alabaster-and-metal pet. “Does that surprise you at all, sweetheart?”

“I doubt ‘happy’ begins to cover it, Mistress,” Flair said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Not currently, but I imagine your master would like a drink at this point.”

“I’ll find him and ask.”

“And listen for any of the guests arriving, of course, but I don’t expect them for a while. As for you, my lovely toy… you are most certainly a jewel, and I am very pleased with you so far.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I’m glad.”

“You’re still very far under your master’s influence, aren’t you?” Mistress sounded amused.

Jewel’s forehead furrowed in thought. “I think so, Mistress, but that’s what I’m for, to do whatever you and Master want with. But… can I ask what you mean?”

“You’re extremely aroused, to such a degree that it is interfering with your everyday thought processes. That is not a complaint in any way.”

“Yes, Mistress. But… I was really aroused even before Master came to the dressing room. And pretty strongly aroused after I showered and before I got ready. And Flair noticed that I was even before I got in the shower. So I don’t think it’s all Master’s influence.”

“Hm. Noted, and keep being honest like that. How you feel is important to me, even if it’s unlikely to change anything that happens.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell me your name.”

“I’m Jewel, Mistress.” No other name mattered.

“And what are you?”

“Your toy to play with, Mistress. Master said I’m specifically a sex toy.”

“What’s your purpose and priority?”

“To please you and Master and your guests any way I can.”

“Your master explained about the game we’ll be playing?”

“For every six orgasms I give, I’m permitted one as a reward, Mistress. And I have to be impartial and creative.”

“Which makes you feel…?”

“Excited, Mistress.”

“Why?”

“Being purely a sex toy sounds like heaven. And I think I get frustrated a lot… that sex usually ends around the time I’m really getting into it, and a lot of the time it’s boring and… and missing something. But it’s not about that. I get to spend whatever’s left of twenty-four hours with my only job feeling sexy and doing what I’m told and making people feel good. And that’s going to be wonderful.”

“Good girl. I want you to enjoy yourself. Do you suppose you can make me feel good?”

“I’ll do my best, Mistress, but, um, I’m not sure how.”

Mistress chuckled. “Right now, rather than having you overwhelmed, I’ll make it easy on you.” She glided fluidly to a nearby chair, sat on it, and a heartbeat later, the coils of green-black scales were gone. Mistress, in a strapless top of glossy tight black, spread her legs and lifted up her matching long flared skirt. No panties. That wasn’t a surprise. “Come kneel here between my legs, and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Jewel obediently knelt, and followed directions about where and how to lick and what to do with breath and fingers and lips as well as tongue. She decided that she loved the way Mistress tasted, and wondered whether all women tasted this good. Had she been missing out on something by sex only with men?

It felt like it took quite a while, but Mistress was making pleasure sounds and praising her between suggestions, so she didn’t seem to be impatient, and Jewel was enjoying the novelty of this and the fact that she was making Mistress feel good, so there was no hurry. Everything was accompanied by the music of her earrings, louder and clearer the more active she was, almost inaudible when she was moving less. The sound was pretty and not intrusive at all, and she rather liked it.

To her delight, eventually she heard Mistress’ breathing growing harder and more ragged, and her hips moved more forcefully, and the long nails of the hand resting on her shoulder dug in hard enough to hurt—though that hardly mattered.

“Don’t stop until I say,” Mistress told her, a bit breathlessly, and then a few seconds later her breath caught hard and her hips bucked forward and Jewel felt muscles clench hard around the two fingers she currently had inside Mistress. After one hard spasm, Mistress relaxed visibly, internal muscles flexing in a gradually slowing rhythm.

“Stop licking, but keep your mouth and your fingers there a moment longer.”

Jewel waited, aware of the taste of a lot of newly-released juices, and didn’t move until Mistress said, “All right. Sit up. Good girl. Well done, especially for a first time. I think you could become quite good at that, with a little practice.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Jewel knelt up straight, licking her lips.

Mistress was pleased with her. That made the world perfect.

Wait… she’d just gone down on a woman who, in other contexts, was one of her most valued friends.

Of course, in other contexts, the woman in question wasn’t an enormous snake from the hips down, currently coiling her way back to the platform that allowed her to arrange herself more comfortably.

No, she’d just obeyed and pleased Mistress, and that was the cardinal rule.

She closed her eyes briefly, struggling. It had been easier with Master’s influence overriding everything except the driving hunger for for sex. Without that, she was on her own with the conflict.

No she wasn’t.

I’m Jewel, she thought, and felt the voice of the bargain in her head agree that she was, with its subtle sense of comforting approval. It doesn’t matter who I am the rest of the time. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m Jewel. I’m property. I’m going to have to accept that I’m a sex toy, something for eight fae to use as often as they want for any kind of sex they want and I have no right to object. This is what I’m paying for safety from a real threat, and I have to do it right.

Each point gave her that warm thumbs-up, which helped calm her agitation considerably.

Master says I should feel sexy. I do, I mean, look at me! Master says it’s good to feel all horny and turned on. And I do, god help me, I’m quite sure that isn’t all him, that twisted little part of me that likes this all on its own is awake again. I don’t have to like it, but I probably can’t fight it. Master says to be enthusiastic. Oh good lord, I had him way down my throat… and I want to again, badly…

You figured this out last time. Let go. Surrender to everything. Including yourself. It’ll make it so much less painful to get through.

Easier said than done.

“Are you all right?” Mistress asked.

“I think so, Mistress. Just… a bit of perspective adjustment.”

“Hm. Well, to do your job well, you need to look after yourself, too. You remember where the kitchen is?”

She’d been there so many times during her last debt payment, she could never forget. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Any time you need to, as long as none of my guests has a use for you at that moment, you can make free use of the bathroom and the kitchen and help yourself to any food or drink. There is a bottle of elixir there, but use it sparingly, and make sure you sleep now and then. You can do so right here, I’m sure you can find a comfortable place for a nap. It won’t be eight consecutive hours, but it will be better for you than completely postponing it. I want you functional for the duration, which is a bit over twenty-two hours. Why don’t you curl up here beside me and take a nap until my guests begin to arrive, so you’ll be rested for them?” She shifted her position, leaving space along one edge of the raised padded platform.

That was a command disguised as a thoughtful suggestion.

Jewel got up and relocated. She couldn’t exactly curl up, the corset forbade that. Mistress’ tail-tip nudged a cylindrical pillow towards her, and with that under the back of her neck, she was more comfortable than she expected, without any difficulty with her ponytail.

Mistress ran a gentle hand across her eyes, urging them closed. “Sleep a little, Jewel. Let your own imagination give you exciting pleasant dreams about being a seductive single-minded sex toy.”

Jewel wanted to object that her imagination wouldn’t do that, but the salon went away.

Vaguely aware that she was dreaming, Jewel’s dream still felt real.

A look in the mirror showed her… more or less as she was, but her light beige-brown skin was metallic silver, sharper contrast to the sapphire she was wearing, and she knew that it didn’t come off, it was a part of her. This was her proper uniform, the reflection of her purpose and her inner self. No fears, no worries, no uncertainty. Her only function was to bring pleasure to others, and she was good at it. It gave her both great emotional satisfaction and great physical pleasure of her own—no more feeling frustrated. No more feeling chained by expectations she couldn’t always identify, let alone reach. Purely a sex toy, and it was such a relief to be.

The dream blurred into a whole series of erotic encounters, including the regular intercourse that was currently off-limits, and in them, she was always aroused and eager and knew what to do.

Her dream-self remembered that, last time she’d paid a debt, she’d surrendered to a part of herself that revelled in the loss of control and the sensuality. Her dream-self also remembered giving herself over utterly to that part of herself and never looking back.

“Jewel. Wake up, dear.”

Jewel blinked and opened her eyes. Surely she couldn’t have slept all that long, yet she felt more rested than she expected. “Mistress?”

“Henry just arrived. The other guests will be coming very soon. You have a job to do.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jewel sat up carefully, then got up all the way. “Do I have time for the bathroom?”

“Yes, but don’t take long.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you for waking me.” She headed for the bathroom with the longest, fastest strides she could.

Peeing brought a sharp reminder of her rubber-covered nether regions. She cleaned up, then decided that she could steal just a moment more. She moved the stool so it was directly in front of the mirror wall, then, with a hand mirror from the counter, she perched and spread her legs and tried to manoeuvre mirror and self so she could get a look.

It was… fascinating, seeing her entire vulva coated in glossy blue. Being unable to access her throbbing clit at all was frustrating, but also oddly satisfying and right: she belonged to her owners, she was not entitled to pleasure herself except when they felt she’d earned it.

She quickly returned stool and mirror, and headed back to the salon, her heels clicking on the floor. These wedge heels were surprisingly comfortable, more stable than stilettos, and still looked wonderful. She needed to keep an open mind about them in the future.

Okay, so, she was going to get used for lots of sex, probably including things she could never have dreamed up.

I don’t want to act like a promiscuous shameless slut, part of her mind whimpered.

Part of her did.

And it was going to happen anyway.

And she could feel her own heat, the rubber trapping it, but not trapping the juices that trickled down her inner thighs.

Just outside the salon, she met Flair coming the other way; Flair flashed her a smile and kept going, presumably following a command.

Jewel strode into the salon. It was hard not to feel sexy and confident in her appearance, at least. She still found it hard to believe that was her inside.

Mistress, on her platform, was sitting forward more to talk to three-foot-tall hairy Henry, who had claimed a chair of the right height for him.

Jewel stopped a body length from them, spread her feet to shoulder-width, linked her hands behind her, and waited with her eyes on the floor. Apprehensive about what she was going to have to do, she knew she was turned on as well. And the latter was a less miserable state to be in.

Henry paused in mid-sentence to look her over, then glanced back at Mistress. “You weren’t exaggerating. She cleans up nice.”

“Very much so. And she’s free to use at will for, hm, around twenty hours, with only the single restriction.”

“There’s so much to do other than that.”

“Indeed. I’ll leave you to it, then.” Mistress slithered off her platform and off in the direction of the door.

Jewel waited.

Henry circled her, slowly, and whistled softly. “Well, now. That’s a job worthy of the body artists, but it didn’t need them. You certainly look like what you are, pretty thing.”

“Thank you, sir.” The compliment made her feel warm, despite her nervousness.

“Just stand still for me.” His hand made her feel even warmer, exploring everywhere unhurriedly. He started over the blue leather, dextrous fingers tracing out every curve, every slope, then moved on to bare skin. Jewel shivered, struggling to obey despite the growing urge to arch into his hands like an affectionate cat.

I’m a sex toy. It’s good for a sex toy to enjoy sex. Master said to be enthusiastic.

Oh fuck I’m getting so turned on, his hands are just unreal…

Henry chuckled. “You liking this, pretty thing?”

Jewel closed her eyes. “Yessir.”

“What about it?”

“Your hands feel good.”

“Oh, yes? And where do you want them?”

“That’s not up to me. Anywhere you want.”

“Eager to please, aren’t you?”

“Yessir.” She swallowed. Can’t lie to fae. They’re all about truth. “I like… it feels good to obey. To please someone else.”

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’m sorry.” ‘Because there’s obviously something wrong with me’ probably wasn’t an acceptable reply.

“Hm. Honest answer anyway. Will ask you that again later, so think about this and don’t answer now: what do you gain as a toy that you don’t have otherwise?”

Gain? Wasn’t the point that she mostly lost? Freedom, control, dignity…? Anything she gained mostly translated as a lack of something, but surely he wouldn’t phrase it that way if he meant captivity, helplessness, humiliation.

“Right now, tell me, pretty thing. What will you do for me?”

“Anything you want,” Jewel whispered.

“Say again?”

“Anything you want.” More loudly.

“No fun if you just put up with it.”

“I’ll do anything you want, and I’ll do it enthusiastically.” She cringed a bit inside, but said it anyway, and knew it was the truth. The whole spell—the bargain’s voice, Master’s nudge, her dream, her body’s worrying reactions—were all conspiring against her everyday self to push her firmly into the mindset of a sex toy to go along with her outward role. But what was going to happen, would happen, and it would be less miserable for her and pay her debt more fully if she didn’t fight it. “And I want to do it. Anything you want, anything that will bring you pleasure, I really want to do. I’m not allowed regular intercourse, but I’ll do anything else.”

His grin showed those small pointed teeth. “Anything?”

Broken toys are no use. Mistress and Master both call me their treasure. I’m property but I have value. “Anything,” she repeated firmly.

He laughed. “You’ll leave here with a courtesan’s knowledge of kinds of sex. Collecting orgasms towards your own, hm? All right, pretty thing, I’ll give you an easy gentle one for now. Kneel on the edge of the platform, with your back towards me.”

Puzzled, and a bit apprehensive, she obeyed.

“Bring your knees farther back. Now lean forward.”

What is he doing? He knows the rules. And he wouldn’t… would he?

She dropped forward onto her hands, forcing herself to stay still and as calm as she could. Going through her litany again, with its little mental pats of approval, distracted and soothed, while he unzipped her skirt upwards.

Then his agile fingers, stroking her rubber-encased vulva, became a distraction of their own. She could feel him smearing wetness around—her own lubrication, as near as she could tell, and there was no shortage of it to coat her upper inner thighs.

“Keep thinking sexy thoughts,” he told her. “Stay nice and wet. Friction’s no fun.”

“I can… I can do that.”

“Bring your knees together tight and keep them there.”

She shifted her position a bit, making sure her knees were braced together on the padded platform.

I have no idea what he’s doing and I’m letting him do it anyway, except that I don’t have the option of ‘let,’ it’s just going to happen, and I can’t freakin’ believe how much of a turn-on that is… What is wrong with…

No! I won’t feel bad about feeling good!

Right now, I’m a sex toy, and this is my job, and I’ll do it properly!

She felt pressure between her upper thighs, something hard and narrow… it didn’t take a genius to know it was his penis. For all his diminutive size, she thought it was no smaller than the lower end of average, though where it normally hid when he wore only his own fur, she had no idea. It slid along her slippery rubber-sheathed vulva between her labia, across where there should be an opening, past her inaccessible clit, until she felt hairy hips against the backs of her legs. His hair, she noticed distantly, wasn’t particularly scratchy or rough. If anything, it edged towards woolly, which must be a pain to keep clean and tangle-free.

He seized her hips, holding her still while he drew back, then he thrust forward more quickly.

Oh. This is… different.

And… actually, that’s kind of nice.

And if I could feel everything, that might be rubbing right against my clit.

On the other hand, given her own associations with what constituted ‘real sex’, she found it very easy to feel like an object for him to use to amuse himself.

Master said be enthusiastic!

She picked up on his rhythm, and shifted her weight back to meet him on each stroke, which made her earrings chime their silver song.

He grunted and chuckled. “Good girl.”

So, she braced herself with her arms, and tried consciously to get into the spirit of it.

Henry had been kind to her before, had protected her against the spiteful little fae with their cruel words. He deserved her best.

But then, all the fae deserved her best, because that was her job. Bringing pleasure. Not increasing stress for other people by sending them reminder letters about owing money. Using everything she had to make Mistress and Master and their friends feel good.

She realized that she was whimpering softly, punctuated now and then by a gasping moan, and that friction was definitely not going to be an issue. Henry’s thrusts grew more vigorous the more strongly she responded, and that was gratifying and reassuring: she was obviously meeting expectations.

What was going to happen when he came? she wondered, as his motions became jerkier, more short and urgent.

She wasn’t quite anticipating that he’d pull back just as he climaxed, spilling himself all over her inner thighs and vulva and bottom.

His fingers dug into her hips hard, holding her still, and she thought she felt a suggestion of claws. She carefully didn’t move until he stopped shuddering and let go.

Hm, now what?

Bring him back for more.

So she did the most wanton, playful thing that came to mind. She let herself sprawl onto her side, ran her fingers through the mixture of his fluids and hers that coated her skin, and met his gaze while she licked them slowly, delicately, meticulously clean. He watched her with a grin, then chuckled.

“Pretty thing, keep going the way you’re going, you’re off to a wonderful start. Word of advice. Thinking there’s only vaginal, oral, and anal sex lacks imagination. Anything from your toes to your armpit has potential. Keep your mind open.”

“Yessir. And thank you.”

“For getting you a point closer to your own?”

“For letting me serve and make you feel good. A toy needs a purpose.” And she was a toy, and her purpose was sex, and she was fulfilling that, so all was well and right with the world.

He chuckled and strolled off towards Mistress, who had returned to the room and settled on a different platform.

Jewel decided she needed to clean up, so she wriggled off the platform, trying not to make a mess, and headed for the bathroom.

She hadn’t exactly forgotten how she looked, and the soft jingling of her earrings was a constant reminder, but walking in and spotting herself in the full-wall mirror was nonetheless briefly breathtaking. How was it that she could look like that? That it could be her, standing so straight and confident, in heels like that and a corset laced to create such dramatic curves, silver gleaming around her ears, and those deep blue lips smiling in delight?

I want to look like this always. I want my whole job to be making people happy.

A moment with a wet washcloth took care of the problem. Just because she could, she peed and washed her hands, and stopped in the kitchen.

Flair was adding mead to two of the giant-sized cups; she greeted Jewel with a cheerful smile. “With Dagrun, tease her. Go all around and occasionally just brush her clit and then move away again, and sort of spiral in so you’re right immediately around it but still not directly on it much. She’ll totally melt. I don’t know if it has anything to do with being a fire giant, but she is super sensitive. With Sigrun, make sure that whatever you do, you do it with a reasonable amount of force and pressure. She’s not, like, numb or anything, she just likes sensations strong and direct. Even at minimum size, if they’re really enjoying themselves and you work at it carefully, you might be able to get a hand inside either of them. Go slow and don’t force it, and if you can, don’t go deep, just close your hand and pump back and forth a bit but stay shallow unless they say otherwise. They love it when it works, and I’ve had both decide to grow a bit in mid-sex to make sure it can, so don’t get too startled if they do.”

While filling a glass with juice, Jewel listened intently, filing that as useful information. “Got it. Other helpful hints?”

“If I think of anything else as the others show up, I’ll let you know. I mean, they all like multiple things. The spacing between the cups of your corset is wide enough to allow for, hm, I think the usual term is titfucking? Since you’re supposed to keep it varied, that should give you one round each with the males.”

“Um… had a boyfriend do that once. It was unexciting. But… different conditions. Females? I really know nothing about sex with women.”

Flair giggled. “Yes you do, you are one. Think about how and where you like to be touched…”

“Everywhere, apparently.”

“And what stimulation works on you. Seriously? Mouth and fingers everywhere. Any position that brings your groin against hers to rub together. Any position that allows rubbing other ways, like maybe grinding against a thigh or something. If she isn’t in mid-conversation, talking can be good. Tell her how beautiful she is, how much her clit seems to like you, how good she tastes, how much you’re loving the noises she makes, whatever comes to mind. That one works on the males, too, although it’s kind of hard with a penis halfway down your throat. Everyone likes compliments. And these are fae. They’re, well, sort of truth voyeurs. Go ahead and say exactly how you feel, doing something or having something done or whatever. The more truth you give them, freely and without prompting, the more they’ll love it. They aren’t going to ever think anything bad about you for telling the truth, no matter what it is. I’m not actually sure they can. Truth is higher than anything else. I need to take these out. Why don’t you grab a quick snack?”

“Mm, probably would be good. Do you need a hand?”

“You do your job and let me do mine.” Flair’s smile took any sting from it. “Don’t be long. Everything is about you right now.” She picked up the tray with the two giant cups, and left the kitchen.

Jewel made herself a sandwich, since that would be fast and not bloat her tightly-constricted abdomen. She’d been wearing this for, what, probably four hours by now? To whatever extent she was mostly conscious of it, it felt wonderful, not at all uncomfortable. It might get that way after a while—she hadn’t been wearing corsets all that long or all that tightly—but it didn’t look likely to be soon. Likewise her feet: the first time, the high arch had felt unnatural, but after a few weeks of increasingly enjoying the effect of higher heels during her own time, they weren’t bothering her at all.

And having had that nap as well… she didn’t have the slightest need for Mistress’ magic elixir. Maybe later she’d get to that point, but Mistress said to use it sparingly, and she wasn’t going to touch it unless she really needed it.

Just knowing what had been created out of her fairly average body and that she was going to be using it to please eight fae with longer still remaining than her entire first debt payment, that was enough to give her a delicious rush of combined adrenaline and arousal.

Food was of less interest than whatever awaited her in the salon. She finished eating, cleaned up, and headed back, head high.

Just inside, she paused to look around. She’d been oblivious to the entrance chime while playing with Henry, apparently, because there were no less than four more guests present. One was amphibious Nechtan, in a basin of water, talking to Mistress and to a stranger. Jewel couldn’t tell whether the stranger was male or female at all. Tall thin build, in what might be a short-sleeved close-fitting short sweater-dress of greyish-brown with a green leafy pattern, with a tied beaded belt of several colours, and socks that reached over the knee in bold stripes of green and white and something that might be black… Jillian could distinguish no visible breasts or hips but also no breadth of shoulders, no facial hair on the narrow grey-skinned face under wild green hair of raggedly uneven length. It was probably a bad idea to assume anything about the clothing choice.

If Flair was just now getting drinks for the giants, they’d probably arrived the most recently, so she should go introduce herself to the stranger and greet Nechtan first.

No favouritism. The giants probably would be more pleasant than extended physical contact with Nechtan, but he was what he was and she was going to do her best for him, too.

She made her way across the floor, conscious of being watched, a small part of her still squirming over that, but the part that was rapidly asserting control loved it. Mistress and Master called her a treasure. Valuable things were admired, even if they were property. If she was admired, that reflected well on Mistress and Master for choosing and grooming the sex toy they had.

As before, she paused just outside, took her proper stance, and waited to be acknowledged.

“Oh, lovely,” Nechtan said, looking her over without the faintest trace of hesitation—but then, modesty wasn’t part of her job. Jewel stretched and posed for him, turning in a circle, which made him laugh but he never looked away. “Definitely a prize.”

“Thank you,” Mistress said. “Jewel, this is Hyld, one of my oldest and dearest friends, who had to miss the previous gathering you were present for.”

Jewel greeted… him? her?… with her best smile. “Hello.”

Up close, Hyld’s skin was greyish-brown and looked rough, and the ragged hair had an odd glossy texture; those high socks were green and ivory and a very dark purple, all colours that were in the belt along with yellow, and the sweater-dress or whatever it was seemed to be knitted with an irregular vertical cabling texture that wasn’t quite the usual fisherman-type. Eyes were large and virtually black, and lips were thin. That smile was both friendly and appreciative, though.

“I’m very glad I made it this time.” That voice was as androgynous as the appearance. Well, odds were distinctly high that Jewel would know soon, unequivocally, what sort of anatomy Hyld had, at least.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Jewel asked. “Anything you want, with one restriction, and I’d love to make you feel good.” She turned her smile from Hyld to Nechtan, head tilted a bit questioningly.

Mistress smiled, clearly pleased. Jewel made a note: Mistress approved of her taking the initiative, not just waiting to be approached.

“Go ahead, Hyld,” Nechtan said graciously. “I can wait a little. Judging by last time and what Nik said, she’s highly adaptable with a genuine drive to please.”

“Best to start easy,” Hyld chuckled. “Come here, pretty blossom. On your knees. Let’s see how agile your tongue is.” That… sweater?… was apparently stretchy, because it was easily gathered and bunched up out of the way, letting Hyld slide forward on the chair with knees parted.

Jewel immediately stepped past Nechtan and dropped to her knees, edging closer so she’d be able to reach easily.

Okay, so, Hyld was female. Fair enough. After pleasing Mistress, she’d been rather looking forward to practising her newest skills more. She stroked gently, exploring outer labia and the sparse green hair that covered them, trying not to rush—she’d never personally cared for lovers who were focused entirely on the goal and not the process, and figured that at worst, one fae or another would tell her to get on with it. Meanwhile, she could appreciate the beauty in front of her, delight in the responsiveness to the gentlest of touches with lips or tongue or fingertips or nails, even to her breath. That scent, Jewel thought, was rather like honey, and the taste made her think of sweet unfamiliar fruit.

Extremely responsive. Hyld’s clitoris was unquestionably engorged and very interested in what was happening. Jewel ran her tongue delicately along it, barely touching, then closed her mouth over it to share her breath and body heat, flicking it with her tongue intermittently.

That was apparently good: hips bucking slightly towards her, Hyld moaned something that sounded like another language, though it trailed into a breathless laugh, and one hand caressed Jewel’s head.

Something was definitely going on, though. Jewel ran her tongue along Hyld’s clit experimentally, and concluded that it was much bigger than it had been… and it continued to grow.

Well, that’s odd.

Something from a long-ago science class, or maybe a nature show on TV, tickled the back of her mind. Didn’t a lot of plants have both male and female reproductive organs in each flower? If Hyld was tree-like, was the connection with a tree that had combination flowers like that?

Not that it mattered. It just made this an interesting challenge: how to apply what she’d learned from both Mistress and Master in one.

For the moment, she drew back, and ran her tongue along the slit behind Hyld’s… penis? Very large clitoris? Well, the larger it expanded, the more the shape resembled a penis.

And the more awkward it was becoming to get her mouth near the feminine territory behind it. There were probably positions that would make it easier to reach, but she could hardly ask Hyld to abandon Mistress and Nechtan. Maybe it was something to explore later, or ask Flair about. Right now, she needed all her attention on what she was doing.

Should she ask if there was anything special Hyld wanted her to do? No, that would interrupt, and she had no reason to think that any of the fae would hesitate about giving her directions.

So, she focused her oral attentions on Hyld’s penis, but she did so at a leisurely pace, sometimes pausing altogether with it in her mouth so she could pay closer attention to what she was doing with her fingers just a little back from that.

Hyld, noticeably breathless, finally cupped both hands around Jewel’s head, long thin fingers splayed wide. Jewel obediently looked up.

“Your attentiveness and lack of haste are wonderful, blossom, and I have only praise, but I think that’s long enough teasing, hm?”

Jewel nodded. Good. Taking a long time was hard on her own desire for release, but it needed to go on the list of ‘good things to do.’ When Hyld let go, she leaned down again, and this time, did everything in her power to make the tree-like fae climax in her mouth.

Which, really, didn’t take long at all.

There wasn’t a large quantity of semen, and what there was tasted more like diluted honey. Jewel, remembering her lessons, stayed where she was and kept Hyld in her mouth, letting Hyld move first. Then she let Hyld’s rapidly shrinking penis slide out, and licked her lips and teeth clean, getting every tasty trace.

“Oh, very well done,” Hyld said. “Humans with more fae experience have been flustered by elder-fae and our biology. I don’t believe you faltered for more than a heartbeat before you adapted, and with enthusiasm and diligence.”

“Good girl, Jewel,” Mistress said, holding out a hand to her. Jewel immediately came to her, nuzzling happily into Mistress’ stroking hand. “You’re doing a wonderful job so far of pleasing my friends, I couldn’t ask for better.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” All this approval was making her want to wriggle like an overexcited puppy, but Mistress’ hand countered some of the hyperness, tamed it into a deep feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.

“See what Nechtan would like, then take a break if you need to before you go greet Dagrun and Sigrun and Sati.”

So everyone was here, then. Was she getting so intent on her job that she was tuning out the arrival chimes, or was it the bells in her ears and their own faint chime that was distracting her from it? But it was all right, she hadn’t been told to listen for it. Her job meant focusing intently on whoever she was currently serving, to the exclusion of anything else. And if it was her earrings, well, she quite liked the gentle tinkling.

“Of course, Mistress.” She waited until Mistress moved her hand, and oriented on Nechtan. “What can I do to please you?”

“Give me a moment to finish the point I’m making,” Nechtan said. “I believe I want to give you my undivided attention.”

Well, that wasn’t what she’d prefer, but it wasn’t up to her. She moved over to kneel beside his basin, schooling herself to wait patiently while he finished whatever he was saying in their language. While she was intent on action, her own hunger stopped nagging at her so insistently, but she’d been highly aroused for hours and still needed to give two more before she could earn any release of her own.

Next time: a very busy Jewel learns more, and earns a reward, among other things.

Also, I have to do this, no choice. But I can do this. I can get through this.

Stop yelling at me to go to Min! I’m going, I’m going! It’s not my fault I got held up and missed the bus and had to wait for the next one! I texted her with why, she knows I’m not trying to cheat!

The bus felt like it took forever to get to the stop nearest Min’s apartment. The nagging pressure in her head had started shortly before the time she normally left work. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d caught her usual bus. But this was distinctly uncomfortable. Yes, she was scared—this time, not because she had no idea at all what was coming, but because she had just enough idea to be certain it would be difficult. But not impossible. That faith, that Min and Nikandros, Dagrun and Henry and the others, would keep her safe, that made all the difference.

Even if they were being their full-on fae selves with her as their consenting human toy, rather than just being slightly odd but friendly.

Min buzzed her in the building door. The apartment door, unsurprisingly, was ajar—Min had told her to come directly in. She hardly even thought about hanging her purse on the coat-rack and dropping her overnight bag under it on her way to kneel at Min’s feet.

With the gentle caress of Min’s fingers on her cheek, the insistent nagging stopped.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Min asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t see you all week, I’ve been busy living up to my side of the bargain.”

“He wasn’t at work today,” Jillian said. “It’s horrible how much of a relief that was.”

“I know. He’s going through an unwilling version of… call it extreme therapy and radical behaviour modification, built on his religious beliefs. He is not a particularly devout or observant Christian, but he does believe, with an absolute inflexible bone-deep certainty, that the world was created by a divine heterosexual white man for mortal heterosexual white men in his image, and everything else within it exists for white men to exploit or eliminate as they see fit. When we put the last piece in place, he will believe just as absolutely that if he doesn’t start treating all other people with respect regardless of gender or colour or anything else, he’s on his way to an eternity in hell, and that the next time he lays a hand on an unwilling woman there will be a devil there waiting to claim him, and it would be better still if he starts repenting and atoning for his sins. It will take us at least another week or two to be sure that we’ve left no loopholes or cracks. He was off today because last night, he got neutered like the aggressive oversexed animal he’s been acting like. We made certain he looks intact, but, at the risk of too much graphic information, those are not real testes. Low testosterone should reduce the aggression and greatly decrease his obsession with sex. Combined and completed, I’m confident that it will fulfill what you asked for.”

“That’s pretty thorough and intense,” Jillian said. “Has he been doing bad things?”

“Mm, let’s just say I have reason to feel not the slightest hesitation or remorse about neutering him or terrifying him. It doesn’t currently matter. What does matter is you.”

Jillian sighed and nodded. “It’s worth it, no matter what, to have one less threat in the world. And I gave my word. I’m yours.”

The world shifted, very slightly, or maybe it was just turning to a different angle in relation to the inside of Jillian’s head.

Mistress’ hand stroking her hair was meant as reassurance, and it was, so all was right.

Oh. You again.

“Stand up,” Mistress told her. “Leave the dress here. It’s from Jillian’s life, and once you’re through the door, you’re not Jillian, you’re my Jewel.”

Right. Not Jillian. Jewel. Should’ve seen that one coming.

She let her white pumps slide off, unclasping her wide white stretchy belt as she stood up, and pulled her respectable, if somewhat form-fitting, cream and grey and white dress over her head. That left her only in the honey-gold set Nikandros had given her, though with neutral stockings. She shivered—without a satyr stirring her hormones, she still felt highly uneasy about being underdressed, especially around other people.

Like that was going to matter. The only rule was no penis-in-vagina penetration. Anything else, which probably included a lot she couldn’t even imagine, was fair game.

And oh god, why am I getting wet and hot? I’m not here because I want this!

But Mistress would be pleased if she could relax and enjoy herself.

Fuck. I forgot about that bit.

“I see Nik’s point,” Mistress mused. “Absolutely delightful. Leave the dress there on the chair and stand straight with your hands behind you. Now, since Nikandros has put as much effort as I have into fulfilling your request, I would like you to define him in your own mind as Master, the same way I’m Mistress. I believe he’s earned that as a way of thanking him.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She could feel the process of redefinition, and it made her shiver again: his name was still there, she’d recognize any reference to him the way she recognized references to ‘Min’ as meaning ‘Mistress,’ but over ‘Nikandros’ in big bold letters was ‘Master’, and that was the only way she could refer to him in her thoughts. But that was a small thing, and it would stop in twenty-four hours with no damage. Not worth fearing.

“Knowing how humans build associations, there is one other ground rule, and this is for several reasons, first and foremost your own comfort. Like the rest, it will end as soon as your debt is paid. I want you to forget that the Nikandros who is your master is the same one who visited you at work and who gave you a gift—you have not seen your master since the last time you were in my villa. Likewise for Dagrun and Sigrun and Nechtan—the fae who are here are not the same as the friends who helped you move, you have only ever seen them here. Since you do not know them or encounter them in any other context, there is no need to feel self-conscious. Your memories won’t change, but you will not make any connection between fae self and human self for anyone but me, and you won’t consciously remember the details of this command. Your memories and associations in regards to Flair can stay as they are. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Something was happening in her mind, rewriting connections, blocking paths… now she couldn’t remember what it was rewriting, and that was alarming, but she bit her lip, dug the nails of one hand into the wrist of the other, and waited.

Have faith. Trust Mistress.

Yes, she should definitely do that.

“Do you remember where the bathroom is? The one in my villa, not the one here?”

“I think so, Mistress.”

“Good. Flair is there waiting for you. Your master wishes to do the final part of getting you dressed more appropriately for my toy Jewel, but Flair will begin. Off you go.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Which meant she got to walk around in just her underwear long enough to go through the bedroom door to the lounge, through the larger door there to the long corridor, and then she’d have to try to remember which door.

Back through the looking glass, she thought as she crossed the threshold between apartment and villa.

It both helped, knowing that Flair was her friend and would do anything that offered itself to make this easier, and terrified her, that a friend she was coming to depend on was going to see whatever happened. Flair said it wouldn’t matter to her. Would it, to Jilli…

I am not Jillian! I’m Jewel!

The thought was so vehement it cut off any other thought sharply and made her wince a little.

So, on her way, she tried to get readjusted and orient herself.

I’m Jewel. I belong to my mistress and master. I’ll obey anything they tell me. My job is to obey and to please them and any guests they have. They’re fae, I’m human. They’re powerful beyond what I can understand, and I’m definitely not. But even if they’re powerful, that doesn’t mean they’d ever hurt me instead of protecting me. What I want isn’t going to change anything. I’m a toy for them to play with. I can’t stop them from doing anything they want to me. But Mistress and Master will be happier if I can let myself enjoy whatever they do whenever possible. They like toys who are willing and adaptable. I’m safe no matter what. Broken toys are no fun.

The not-quite-a-voice in her head gave her a flash of approval on each point, strong and unwavering.

You’re my anchor, thing-in-my-head. You’re going to tell me whether I’m living up to my responsibilities or not, so if I’m failing I can fix it fast. I agreed to this with my eyes open. I don’t care how terrified I am, I’m doing it right. But it helps to know that you aren’t going to let me screw up.

That got a couple of flashes of approval, as well. She didn’t bother to analyze exactly which points, since none of it flagged red.

The bathroom door was open. She found Flair perched on the stool by the counter, a stack of folded towels beside her.

Flair hopped off the stool to greet her with a hug. “You look scared. You’ll be okay, you know that, right?”

“Yes. But I don’t think I want to talk about it. That might be enough for me to break down crying or something, and that’s not good.”

Flair let her go immediately, but kissed her cheek before nodding. “Just be Jewel. Shoo, in the shower, then.” She gestured to a familiar bottle of bright yellow stuff, and a jar of pale pink, and one of pale green, all waiting on a ledge in the shower. “Yellow one on your hair, green one around your eyes to get makeup off, pink one absolutely everywhere else but keep it away from your eyes. Tell me when you need help with your back and your face with the pink one.”

“Oh lord. I forgot about starting off getting my skin hypersensitized.”

“Would it matter?”

“No.” She untied and loosened the laces of her honey-gold corset and unfastened the front clasps; Flair took it from her and waited while Jillian stripped off the rest and gave it to her, then crossed the broad cool tile floor to the shower, wearing nothing but the black and green collar.

“Um, I think if you can not get in your own way too badly,” Flair said hesitantly, “you might honestly end up enjoying whatever it is they have in mind.”

“Where’d that come from all of a sudden?”

“I just noticed that your panties are wet. Not just a little bit, either.”

Jewel winced. Embarrassment right off the bat, even if Flair wouldn’t see it as anything but normal.

“I think some part of you is maybe sort of liking something about this,” Flair said, clearly choosing words with care. “So maybe if you can try not to worry about whether something’s wrong with you or what anyone else is thinking about you, it won’t be so bad. They’ll be thinking fae things and I’ll be thinking you’re my friend and I know what fae do. It would be really hard not to feel all sexy and awesome wearing what’s in the dressing room. I’m almost jealous I don’t get one to match this time.”

“I’ll try. Mistress did something to… I think my memory or something… just before she sent me back here. Do you know what?”

That got her a bright red light in her head, a strong nudge of warning.

“Ow. Nevermind. Wasn’t thinking. Obviously not supposed to ask that.”

“Um. It’s nothing bad and it’ll actually help you for now and it’ll go back to normal later. I got orders about things not to say, so I know. But yes, you really shouldn’t ask questions like that. Do not try to second-guess Mistress or circumvent her or anything like that, ever. Just do as she says and trust her. She’s really tolerant with her pets, but there are always limits with fae and pushing them is a really super bad thing to do.”

“All right, I was just wondering. I’ll be good.”

The thick yellow goop going into her hair made her sigh.

“Is this stuff going to leave my hair its natural colour afterwards?”

“Yes. But I ran out to pick up bleach and hair dye, the store’s not all that far and I had time with my charm. I figured I’d better just get red, even though there are some other really pretty colours that would probably look wonderful. It was starting to fade anyway and your roots were coming in brown. We can redo it tomorrow.”

Mistress wasn’t the only one looking out for her. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

Quiet on both sides of the curtain, while Jewel kneaded the yellow goop into her hair. It was longer than it had been in years, she hadn’t been cutting it. Would that make any difference in how long it came out?

Pale green on her face, washing away her work makeup.

She picked up the bottle of pink stuff, and braced herself. The effects afterwards, her utterly hairless, flawless, and faintly scented skin, that part was great. It was getting there, knowing what this was going to her nervous system in between, that was alarming.

She took a deep breath, and started on her feet, working her way inwards towards her core. Some part of her mind associated the scent with pleasant stimulation—she discovered: she could feel herself getting wet, muscles beginning to flex and her clit to suggest that it wanted her attention. The tingling started by the time she reached mid-thigh, more quickly than before. She switched to working on her arms, then down the front of her torso and over her bottom, before nerving herself to do her inner thighs and up into her short-trimmed sex.

“Oh hell,” she gasped, as the tingling met up with the associations and whatever else was buried in her head, and the needle on her arousal swung violently in the direction of ‘intensely horny.’

“You know it’s harmless,” Flair said. She sounded amused and sympathetic at once. “Just go with it. Head start.”

Hadn’t Master said something last time about it being easier to get through if she was thinking with her hormones instead of her head? Something like that?

“Yeah,” Jewel said, a bit breathlessly. “Come do my back?”

“Sure.” Flair pulled back the curtain, took the jar, and started spreading pink stuff all over her back. It felt… way too good. Jewel gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate on breathing.

“Turn around, face too.” And, a moment later, “All done. Time to rinse off.”

Which meant vigorous scrubbing of her highly sensitized skin, which made her whimper under her breath more than once. Again, Flair did her back, since the pink stuff wouldn’t just rinse. Then the yellow stuff.

She looked at her hair in surprise. It was a couple of inches longer than last time, but that wasn’t the unexpected bit. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“My hair isn’t red this time. Something dark, can’t tell the colour.”

“Mm… I bet it’s blue.”

“Why blue?”

“So it matches, of course. Finish up and c’mon out so you can get dry and see.”

“Fucking hell.” The profanity struck her as entirely justified. “Dry may not be an entirely relevant concept, here…”

Flair giggled. “You’re all clean otherwise. Don’t worry about that. Master loves that scent. And, well, it’s bound to get a lot worse before it’s over. Sorry, not supposed to give you time alone to do anything about feeling like that this time. Not supposed to offer to help, either, but maybe later. Right now we’re just supposed to get you dressed.”

Maybe later?

Flair let her dry most of her body, but did her back and her hair for her.

“All set. Next door. Go sit down and let Echo do her thing while I clean up, then I’ll come help with clothes.”

“Um… okay. Um… maybe I should grab a towel to sit on, so I’m not messing up the bench?” She knew she was blushing.

Flair just handed her a small towel. “Go! Just because Mistress didn’t give us a hard time limit doesn’t mean you can dillydally.”

Not just naked except her collar, but naked with every trace of body hair gone and her skin hyper-reactive to every breath of air, Jewel made herself go through the sliding door to the dressing room.

It looked exactly the same. She couldn’t see anything lying out to give her a hint about her future.

Uneasily, she spread the towel on the bench and sat down.

Her reflection, as before, blinked in sync, then blinked out of sync, then took on its own life.

This time, Jewel tried to pay attention to what the fae in the mirror was doing, but Echo moved much too quickly and Jewel couldn’t track half of what she was doing and less of what she was doing it with. She gave up, and just sat quietly while Echo did that magic. Her black-lined eyes were shadowed with silver and midnight blue, this time, which made them look rather mysterious, and she turned her lips to quite a remarkable glossy strong blue that shaded into purple on the inside invitingly.

Then Echo freed her dark blue hair, brushed it smooth before working something colourless into it, and pulled the whole mass up into a sleek high pony-tail with, apparently, not a single hair escaping. It was a very different look from simply having short hair.

Echo paused to look her over, then produced a handful of silver. She fastened elaborate danglies into both sides, but still had silver left over.

What is she doing with… OW!

It hurt less than getting her ears pierced, but she still jumped… four times, two of them farther out and up on her lobes, and two of them high on her cartilage so fine chains could swing between. She gave her reflection a dirty look; Echo just shrugged, smiled, and spread her hands in a “See the result?” gesture.

Okay, she had to admit… that did look pretty cool…

The new piercings were all rings, and she wasn’t sure any of them opened without magic. On one side, a spiralled snake dangled from her earlobe, and on the other, a goat’s head, which pretty much announced who she belonged to. Hanging from the ring at the top of the silver chain on each side was a tiny free-swinging triple strand of glittering blue stones in silver settings. They didn’t hurt like new piercings, at least. They felt like they’d been there for years. Near the edge of her hearing was a mellow soft chiming sound. She shook her head experimentally, felt the silver bump against her, and heard the ringing get louder until she was still again. Not that Echo gave her a chance to look closely and see exactly where the bells were. It was low enough that she figured she’d forget it once she was distracted.

Echo cleaned her own real nails, which were now longer than they used to be, and turned them shiny deep blue. There seemed to be a theme here.

One last inspection, then Echo nodded, blew her a kiss, and her reflection went back to simply being her reflection.

“All set?” Flair asked. “I love the earrings. Come to think of it, I love all of it. She did an awesome job with your lips, and your hair looks amazing blue.”

Jewel shook her head gently just to feel the collection of silver in her ears swing. “It’s all pretty exotic and I wouldn’t dare wear it outside of here…”

“Why not? Maybe not work, but why not otherwise?”

“… but I actually really like it. Which is just making me wonder what the catch is. What am I going to end up wearing?”

Flair grinned at her and held up something that was a beautiful rich deep royal blue, something stiff enough to be a corset, but that was not satin. “Good thing you’re getting used to corsets. I think this one’s meant to be pulled tighter. C’mere.”

“Oh god.” Jewel got up and joined her, helpfully ducking her head and slipping her arms through the wide contoured strap that crossed the back of her neck and joined the corset at either side, then linking her hands behind her so the corset could be fastened up the front. This one cupped each breast—Flair tucked them into place more securely—and was probably going to create some really traffic-stopping cleavage once it was tightened.

Leather, she realized belatedly. This one was made of leather, buttery-soft anywhere it touched her skin, but between the boning and the thick leather of the outer layers, it was going to have virtually no give. It had smallish D-rings in a number of places, sometimes linked by decorative chain, shiny silver a contrast to the blue.

“Ready?” Flair said. “Let’s see what we can do.”

“Go for it.” Jewel spread her feet for balance and braced herself while Flair worked her way up and down the laces, keeping the tension even while she drew it tighter. With no trouble she got it to comfortable everyday levels, then a bit beyond, and kept going.

I should say stop.

No, I should show Mistress and Master that I’m willing to deal with a little discomfort to look my best for them.

That was right, not the earlier thought.

My body is used to some pressure now, having it a bit tighter won’t do anything major. And it feels good, and oh dear god it looks incredible.

“Wow, now that was perfectly planned,” Flair said, tying it off. “The edges meet exactly right there, and that is absolutely perfect. You’re going to look like a total sex goddess.”

“I thought I was a toy.”

“If the toy is willing, is there a difference? Right. Skirt.”

The skirt matched, also leather except for the elastic panels of matching blue along the sides, making it possible for the skirt to fit extremely tightly while still allowing her to move. It was also quite short, and with a lack of panties she was going to be flashing everyone if she bent over or sat down without keeping her legs pressed together. It zipped at the back, in the opposite direction to the usual, so it could actually be unzipped halfway up but still stay securely in place around her waist.

Flair knelt in front of her with knee-high socks and put them on for her, to save her having to bend down, then eased her feet into knee-high blue boots.

“You have got to be kidding me with these heels.”

“You can manage them. I’ve seen you.” Flair imperturbably continued to lace them tightly for her.

“Not for twenty-four hours solid with an unknown activity level. But they’re boots, so that’ll be some extra support.”

“You’ll be fine. Stop complaining and put those on.” She nodded towards the bench beside Jewel, who picked up the last item.

That turned out to be a pair of, not gloves, but fingerless mitts that had holes for her thumb and little finger and pulled all the way up to just below her elbow, with lacing on the inner wrists. Presumably that was because they were of very soft fine leather that didn’t stretch like spandex. Jewel fumbled with it and managed to tighten it, but had to wait for Flair to finish with her boots so she could tie each side for her in a neat small bow.

“All set,” Flair said. “And just oh my god wow, that looks… I don’t know any words. Stand up, I’m right here, so you can look at yourself.”

Jewel let Flair give her a hand to her feet, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.

Black-lined, blue-shaded eyes widened in shock, and she ran her blue-nailed mitted hands down her sides. “That’s me? That can’t be me.”

Flair giggled. “That’s you. See? Sex goddess.”

The narrowness of her waist accentuated the dramatic curve from chest to hips and made her breasts look larger; her legs, in heels that she guessed to be more than four inches but they were slender wedges instead of spikes, looked extremely long and very shapely. The neck strap of the corset, nestled under her collar, widened where it joined the rest along the outer edge of her breasts and edging towards her underarms, and it framed her chest, drawing attention there. Deep blue leather armoured and contoured everything but her upper legs, her upper arms and shoulders, her chest and upper back, and her head. The contrast between her own pink-goop-smoothed skin and the blue leather was a stunning effect, highly out of the ordinary but gorgeous.

“Should I really be happy about looking like a sex goddess?”

Flair shrugged. “You’re going to whether you’re happy about it or not. They’re going to do the same things to and with you whether you’re happy about it or not. You might as well. And don’t tell me that you aren’t absolutely loving what you’re seeing, I won’t believe you. Remember, you don’t need to worry about makeup damage or your hair coming loose, no matter what. Right now, I’m supposed to go tell Master that you’re ready, he wants to add something. You’re supposed to stand in the middle of the room with your feet shoulder-width apart and your hands behind you and wait for him. There was nothing about which direction, so facing the mirror’s fine if you want.” Flair pressed a fleeting kiss to Jewel’s lips, and strode away.

Jewel worked out the spot that probably was most central, and placed herself there in the correct position.

Yes, that was right. Master’s orders were to stand and wait, so she should stand and wait no matter how long it took.

That didn’t help with how turned on she was. Her skin all sensitized, her own reflection being impossibly erotic, her awareness that she was currently just a toy, and now standing here not daring to break position, waiting for her master to come and add some finishing touch to her look. What could he add that wouldn’t destroy it?

Whatever it was, she hoped he’d come soon. She was aching with the need to touch herself or be touched, and was depressingly certain that her own juices were already on her inner thighs and probably heading south. But she couldn’t press her thighs together or manage any other form of stimulation at all. She could only stand still knowing she was leaking.

She couldn’t even ask why she was so turned on. Surely anyone, given a makeover like that, would start getting hot and bothered by the result. That didn’t make her a freak.

She heard hooves on the floor, and turned her head to look.

“Eyes front, Jewel,” Master said firmly. “You weren’t told to move.”

“Sorry, Master,” she said meekly, straightening.

He circled around her, looking her over, his hands caressing the tight hard curves of her waist and sliding down over her hips.

“Oh, you are just too delicious for words. I am so looking forward to this. There’s just one more thing I want to add, and we need to make sure that we both understand the same meaning in it.”

The more he moved, the more she could smell that intoxicating musky scent, and the more she wanted him to touch her, approve of her, allow her to serve him… “Any meaning you tell me is the right one, Master.” Far off, a small voice in her head agreed that yes, Master defined meaning. “Does it matter if I understand it? As long as it pleases you.” Anything that pleased him was worth any price.

“Correct on the first point. However, I want you to understand.” He stopped in front of her, stroking the upper side of her breasts lightly.

“Then I want to, Master.” The inner surface of her thighs was wet, but that was nothing compared to the intensity of the heat and pressure just above that. If he’d only touch her there…

“Good girl. I love how responsive you are. You know I’m manipulating your libido, don’t you? Ramping it up higher? And you’re fine with that?”

Wasn’t there a reason she’d been unhappy about that at some point? Something about resenting control over her thoughts and feelings? She couldn’t currently bring it to mind, she was far too interested in his hands, his scent, the tickle of the tip of his penis against her thigh. Besides, it sounded… wrong. “That’s your right, Master, I belong to you and you can do what you want. And it feels good.” The inner voice agreed instantly.

“Do you know that you’re such a wonderfully horny kinky little tart underneath all your efforts to be boringly normal that I hardly have to push you at all?”

“If you say so, Master.” He clearly considered that a compliment, so that was good.

“You’re easily meeting me halfway. So pliant, but that means we can do so much more with you. Compared to hammering a rapey asshole into a responsible citizen against resistance, this is a pleasure. Creating a work of art.”

She whimpered, a little afraid, but mostly hopeful and eager. “Make me whatever you want me to be, Master.”

“Oh, we will.” He circled around behind her, caught her wrists in his, and pinned them across her chest, pressing her hard against his body. Despite her heels, he was just a little taller, but that seemed right. “In the end, which won’t be in the next day or so, it’ll take months to do it right, you’ll be what your mistress and I want you to be, as long as you keep responding so beautifully. And what we want you to be, treasure, is truly and completely free and whole, inside yourself where it matters most. But we are more than happy for you to belong to us on the outside and be our toy. Now, pay attention. For the next twenty-four hours, your life is pretty much all about sex. That’s your purpose.”

“Sounds wonderful, Master.” She got to put her great new look into practice! She got to be a sex toy for real! What else could she be, looking like this? She pressed backwards eagerly with her hips, grinding hopefully against him, and felt his erect penis rubbing against her. “For you and Mistress?”

“Among others. You’re going to have more sex than you ever dreamed you could have in twenty-four hours.”

Jewel made a happy sound low in her throat. In that case, maybe she’d have a solution to the ache that was growing between her legs. Hadn’t she been feeling vaguely frustrated for some time? Wanting a lot more sex than she was actually getting, and wanting sex that was a lot more interesting than anything available? Making do with a toy, when what she wanted was living contact that wanted her to be the toy instead? Where was the fun in being modest and sensible?

“So I want you to be as sexy as possible.”

“I’ll try my best, Master.”

“I know you will, treasure, and I want to help you with the most effective approach. Do you know what makes a woman sexy above all else?”

“Looking sexy?”

“That’s a part of it, and you sure as fuck have that. Part of it is feeling sexy and horny, and you’ve got that too, don’t you?”

“Very much, Master. Really. A lot.” She wished they could get to the part about lots of sex, but he wanted her to listen, so she did. Besides, it felt so good right here, being held.

“There’s a third thing that makes a woman sexy, but it’s a complicated one, so let’s simplify it down to the immediate. A woman is sexy when she knows what she wants, and she knows that she shouldn’t feel bad about feeling good, and she tries to get what she wants.”

“Mm. So if I want really badly for you to fuck me, Master, I should ask?”

“That’s the idea, although I can’t technically do that. No penises inside your vagina.”

“Awww…” How was she supposed to be a sex toy, then?

“Other things can, and penises can go inside other bits of you.”

“Oooh.” That was more promising.

“I want you to think and tell me the truth. What do you want more than for me to fuck you? What sounds like it would make you happiest?”

That was an easy one. “Being a toy, Master. Your toy and Mistress’s. For you to let me obey you and serve you and be a good girl. Mm, maybe be good at being a bad girl.”

“You are definitely a good girl, and an adorably kinky submissive one, but not bad. You are only ever bad if Mistress or I say so. So I have something for you that will make it easier for us to play with you. Spread your arms to your sides… just like that.” He moved them for her to about forty-five degrees downwards, and let go of her. “Don’t move, treasure.” She watched in the mirrored wall as he walked over to the dresser and took a black bag out of it, then he returned to her. The bag had a strap he looped over his arm so he had his hands free to take out something silvery.

She watched, wide-eyed, as he closed an intricate silver band an inch wide around her wrist. It was loose enough to be comfortable, but it would never fit over her hand. On her inner wrist was a smallish but sturdy-looking D-ring.

He did the same on her other wrist.

“There we go. Aren’t those pretty jewellery for a gorgeous Jewel?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.” He was going to tie her up? He didn’t need to, she’d stay anywhere he put her in any position… at least, she would if she could, but possibly she couldn’t always. And it sounded fun and sexy.

“And that means I can do things like this.” He fastened something to the ring on each wrist; she snuck a look at the one on her left while he attached her right wrist to a D-ring on her corset at the front of her waist. Two clasps, she didn’t know the name but each was compact and nearly circular, joined by a sturdy ring. He brought her left wrist to a mirror ring. “Go ahead and try to get loose.”

She tugged at them, twisted, tried to reach the clips but they needed a much better angle than a common snap did, and gave up after a moment.

Master dropped to one knee behind her, sniffing, and she felt him run his tongue up her inner thigh. She gasped, writhing in place, fighting to not arch towards him. “Oh, yummy. You are loving your new accessories, treasure. You really badly want to come, don’t you.”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “But only if you think I deserve it, Master.”

“Well, that’s exactly it. We’re going to play a game, just to make sure you stay motivated. Your mistress and I have six close trusted friends over for the weekend. That means eight fae for you to entertain, amuse, please, and otherwise keep happy. That is your first priority and your whole reason for being here. Which is making you all hot and excited, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.” Wasn’t there a reason she should feel embarrassed by that?

“You’ll be allowed to orgasm sometimes. Your mistress and I don’t want you miserable and frustrated, we want you happy. But you’re going to have to earn them. For every six orgasms you give, you get to have one. Remember, you are not allowed to play favourites, you have to entertain all the fae present with equal enthusiasm and make sure no one feels neglected. So any set needs to include six different people, and obviously not always the same six. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, Master.” That sounded like the best game ever. She could hardly wait to start.

“Have you ever had an orgasm that wasn’t from direct stimulation of your clit?”

“No, Master. I’m not sure I can.”

“Mm, for the women who can, it usually takes practice and being genuinely intensely turned on, and that still isn’t always enough. I would say we have the second one but not the first one. Bend forward, Jewel. I need access to your pussy.”

She edged her feet a bit farther apart and bent forward, praying that she wasn’t going to lose her balance because with her hands bound, she couldn’t catch herself. But Master wouldn’t let her get hurt, of course. Was that far enough?

His fingers, probing between her legs, stroking her outer labia, then seeking out the feverishly-hot opening there, made her moan. It felt so good, she desperately hoped he wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sure you’ll be a good girl and wouldn’t try to cheat, and that we’ll all do our best to make sure we follow that one restriction, but I don’t want any accidents on anyone’s part.” He pulled something deep blue and glossy out of the bag, discarded the latter, and held it for her to see. “This is my version of a chastity belt, made just for you. It’ll respond to commands from fae, so if I want to lick that delicious pussy, it’ll get out of my way, but it’ll make sure your clit stays protected from accidental contact until you earn an orgasm. I suppose if you do have one without that, you can consider it a bonus, and we won’t penalize you for it.” He unzipped her skirt from the bottom up and fastened the blue belt around her waist under it. She whimpered as he gave her clit a quick light tickle. Then he reached between her legs from behind and brought the centre part up to meet it at the back, tight between the cheeks of her bottom.

It wasn’t leather, it was something rubbery.

As it came together behind her, the whole thing sort of… writhed and contracted, tearing a yelp of astonishment from her.

Master reached between her legs, pushing and rearranging. “Outer lips spread to give the rest a perfect frame, sealed nice and tight against your skin to allow you to pee, good and thick over your clit, all closed off… just like that, and that’s exactly what it will do at any point in the future you put it on. Right now, treasure, for any practical purpose, you have no vagina and no clit.” He freed her hands, though he left the clips dangling from her wrists. “Go ahead and feel between your legs.”

Nervous but obedient, she did.

It felt like her entire groin, from her mound back, was sealed in a rubbery coating shaped perfectly to her natural contours. It must be thin in some places: her outer labia, permanently spread far apart to allow access between, were almost as sensitive as ever behind their prison. Her urethra seemed to be exposed, so she’d be able to pee, but it was the only thing that was. Her clit might as well have vanished: it was under a smooth thick dome through which she could feel absolutely nothing. Farther back, her inner labia were also spread. But instead of a vaginal opening, there was more rubbery stuff, closing it off.

It was disturbingly like what an anatomically-correct Barbie doll might have. She stroked it, bewitched by the slickness of the surface, the sensations through it in the places that still had that, and imagining what it must look like.

“Just so you know,” Master said. “There are very small holes to let those lovely juices flow freely instead of trapping them inside. I want to see those on your legs and smell that heavenly perfume, and I’m not the only one. Paying attention, Jewel?”

“Of course, Master.” She drew her hands back, and he zipped her skirt up, hiding her rubberized pussy. She squeezed her thighs together. The rubbery stuff flexed, it was rather pleasant, but there was zero sensation of pressure over her clit.

No matter how desperately horny she got, she wasn’t going to get any release that way unless her owners decided she’d earned it.

Well, that was fair enough. She shouldn’t be expecting it unless they decided she earned it anyway.

“You can use or offer absolutely anything that you can think of that might make Mistress or I or our guests orgasm, but you’ll need to get creative—we’re going to get bored if you try to do the same thing over and over. We’ll tell you do to things sometimes, but the rest of the time you’re going to have to figure out what you’ve got and what you can do with it. Okay?”

“I’ll do my best, Master.”

“One other thing, and you can go get started.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Enjoy yourself as thoroughly as you possibly can.”

“I will, Master.”

“Go to the salon.”

“Um. Master? Can I do one thing first? Please? I really want to.”

“Yes, you can.”

She spun around, dropped to her knees in front of him, and ran her fingers reverently along the length of his shaft, base to tip. A bit uncertainly, aware that her skills at oral sex were entirely unremarkable, she started at the base, just above the furry ball sack that swung less freely than a human’s, and ran her tongue slowly up the underside, tasting him, revelling in the smooth texture of his skin and how much stronger that exhilarating musk was from here.

Master groaned, low in his throat, then laughed. “Oh, you are an eager little strumpet.”

She ran her tongue in a slow circle around the head, feeling the more pointed tip, the wider flare, and flicked over the very end where the slit was, which gained her a salty and intoxicating drop.

“Master? May I? Please? It’s so beautiful and I want it in me somewhere so much. I’m probably not going to be very good at it…”

“Stop. You will not, at any point, put yourself down like that. Like anything else, treasure, it just takes practice. And I’m perfectly happy to offer some suggestions. But I want you to believe this: any man who sees, and hears, you being enthusiastic and enjoying what you’re doing is going to be really forgiving on the details. If you’ve already got him mind-blown by looking drop-dead sexy and you’re all over him wanting him, then he’ll care even less about technique. Gorgeous horny chick being all aggressive wanting to go down on him… oh hell yeah.”

“Mmm.” She ran her tongue around the head again, in the opposite direction. “Thank you for helping me please better, Master.” Careful of her teeth, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around him, the bells on her earrings making a silver shimmer of sound.

He cupped one hand around her cheek, not holding her or forcing her, but the touch was nice, gently guiding and supporting, as he gave her advice. It took intense concentration, she discovered, leaving no room for distractions if she wanted to do it right—coordinating lips and jaw, tongue and breath, keeping everything extremely wet, while toying gently with his balls.

Satyr precum, he told her, had something in it that would partially suppress her gag reflex; to her delight, though she did gag a bit, she was able to wait it out and then get him farther into her throat than she’d ever been able to do with a human lover. With her nose almost touching the pale fur of his groin, it made her fiercely wet, the knowledge that his divine penis was buried full-length down her eager throat, the first into new territory. It made her feel owned and claimed and useful, and that was satisfying and erotic at once. She knew exactly what he wanted and expected of her, and she could do it, and it matched up perfectly with what she wanted to do. She rocked backwards, sighing softly to herself as his shaft slid out of her throat until only the head was in her mouth, then forward again. It was easier, that time, and after only another stroke or two, her gag reflex gave up entirely. Teasingly, she tried experimenting with swallowing while it was on the way down.

“Oh, fuck, treasure,” Master said, a bit breathlessly. “Hell yes, keep doing that with your throat. You feel so good, you are just so good at this. Any time you ever want to practice more, you let me know. And looking down and seeing you on your knees, looking like you’re born for nothing but sex, with those pretty blue lips wrapped around my cock and you going to town like it’s your favourite ice cream, and oh hell blue is not cold…” That ended in a groan, and his hips bucked towards her. She moved forward so he was buried deep in her throat when he finished. She’d have liked to taste satyr come, but the knowledge of him releasing it so far inside that it was well on the way to her stomach to become part of her was good, too. She was sure she’d get an opportunity to taste it at some point.

After all, she was a sex toy.

A far-off voice in her mind agreed. She was a sex toy, Master had defined that as her sole purpose, and it was good to take pleasure in that identity.

Panting, he backed up a step, then another, until he was entirely free of her mouth. She regarded his penis with interest: only a moment after climax, it was at half-mast, but not going all soft and useless like a human man’s. Did that mean a satyr could be ready for a second round more quickly?

She hoped so, and likewise any other male fae present, otherwise her own ability to earn orgasms was going to be disappointingly reduced to match male limitations.

She licked her lips, found they tasted something like his scent. She liked that.

“Wow,” Master said. “You are off to an amazing start. All right, off to the salon with you. Five more to earn one for yourself. Stay that enthusiastic.”

“Yes, Master.” She accepted his offered hand to help her up, rose with as much grace as her corset and boots would allow, and left to go to the salon.

Next time: well, what do you think, when Min and seven fae friends have a sexy toy?

Right at the moment, however, it felt like the safest place to be—aside from with Min or Nik—was behind her own locked door, with Henry’s protective cord around it and the windows. A block or so to a quiet little curry place wasn’t so bad, but a longer walk, to sit in the relatively exposed laundromat, felt more alarming.

Jillian paced around the apartment, deeply unsettled. She hated the idea of cowering indoors, but…

Did that mean Brett won? Did it matter, since a moral victory could still be an ultimate loss if she got hurt? A passing comment or two from Min on the phone made her strongly suspect that whatever Nik had learned, it wasn’t something Min liked, and that was worrying.

On the other hand, Min had repeatedly told her that she should go about her life and not be afraid, and she didn’t believe Min would say that unless she could back it up. She had the silver serpent ring on her hand…

She strode over to the kitchen counter and picked up her phone. She spent so much time on the phone with Flair these days that she’d set Flair’s number as one of the shortcuts.

“Hi!” Flair said brightly. “How’d the wedding go?”

“Oh, it was awful. I’m not actually sure it was much better than being at work. Less scary, at least, but oh-my-god boring and uncomfortable.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“Yeah. I’ll give you the details later, if you really want them. But Nik sent a present that helped enormously.”

Flair giggled.”Something sexy, hm?”

“A huge box of lingerie, matching the stuff we got downtown but in way more colours. With makeup too.”

“Oh, he would think of adding the makeup. That sounds fun, and I bet they’re gorgeous colours, he has a good eye for that.”

“Definitely. But right now, I have a bit of a dilemma.”

“Mmhmm?” Faintly, Jillian picked up what she thought was a feline purr. Flair must be cuddling her cats.

“I need to do laundry. To do that I have to go out. But I’m finding that going out, especially alone, is making me feel really anxious. I don’t like feeling like I’m hiding. I could skip it for today, but how long?”

“Hm, yes, you saw him close to your apartment. And I overheard Mistress and Nik a bit, I think he isn’t a very nice man. Well, I could check with Mistress. It isn’t something I’ve seen before, but I think until both sides of the bargain are met you might be in fuzzy territory and you could come to the villa. But I don’t know for sure. And anyway, then you might still feel like you’re hiding.”

“Possibly. And Min’s not expecting me.”

“She’d like you coming over, I promise. Really, though, you aren’t in any danger, even if you feel like you are. I know Nik gave you a salvation ring. Echo isn’t the only one who directly owes Mistress allegiance of one kind or another. And even with the complicated family stuff Mistress has an awful lot of respect and influence, so fae who don’t, still like doing favours for her. Even the ones who are young or not very powerful in fae terms are more than a match for any human. You might not see who’s protecting you unless you need them, but I bet, outside your apartment, someone’s there. And will be until Mistress tells them to stand down.”

“That should feel creepy. It sort of does. But sort of reassuring, too.”

“Go with reassuring. That’s the intent behind it, anyway. You honestly don’t need to be afraid. It’s safe to go do laundry or go shopping or whatever you need to do. It’s safe to do it dressed however you like, comfy or sexy or anything else. Okay?”

Jillian sighed. “That’s a hard thing to just have faith in. Logic says one thing, but there’s this little animal voice somewhere in my brain that’s jumping at everything.”

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant. But try your best to listen to logic and experience and keep trusting Mistress. You think she’s never stepped in before when a woman’s in danger? She knows what she’s doing. And you matter to her.”

“All right. I’ll try. And thank you for putting up with me.”

“I wish your life didn’t have so many bad things in it. But I’m always here.”

Farewells said, Jillian disconnected.

The brief conversation had helped, though that deep-down gnawing core of apprehension lingered. Without the fae, she could potentially be in real danger. With them, the rules changed, even if she hadn’t yet gotten her head entirely around this new reality.

The fear surrendered as far as going out or cowering at home, but changed tactics: if she was going out, she should at least wear her least form-fitting jeans and an oversized T-shirt, to avoid drawing attention.

No.

Just, no.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, unbuttoning her work blouse. This was ridiculous. Her fundamental sense of security had been violated, but she didn’t have to give in to it. She didn’t have to give anyone that much power over her actions and even how she dressed.

She stripped off her work clothes and investigated her closet. Too much of it felt too ordinary, too boring, despite recent efforts to rebuild her wardrobe.

In a back corner, she found a top she’d bought in a thrift shop as part of a Hallowe’en witch costume. It had a zipper up the back and faux corset lacing up the front, and no sleeves to speak of, just little flouncy off-the-shoulder ones. The whole thing was a heavy shiny-on-matte black brocade. She hadn’t been entirely happy with the effect in practice, but with even a lightweight corset underneath, that might be different.

And it might pair well with a deep violet skirt she’d recently bought but hadn’t had the chance to wear yet, one that was knee-length at the front but ankle-length at the back.

She swapped to her amethyst-coloured lingerie, which wasn’t exactly the same hue but reasonably close, enough so that the bra straps showing didn’t look at all out of place. Black lace stockings, for contrast under the skirt. When she added the skirt and top, she regarded her reflection in satisfaction. The corset beneath helped create the kind of outline that looked right with the top, and the flare of the skirt was pleasant inverted symmetry. She wondered briefly how it would look with a heavier corset like the white satin one she’d worn under her maid uniform.

She turned her lips metallic amethyst, and after a moment’s thought lined her eyes with liquid black and shadowed them with silver towards the inner corners but amethyst towards the outside. Scrubbing off the muted plum nail polish and replacing it with the one that matched was oddly calming. No one could see her collar, but she needed something to break up all the exposed skin of throat and collarbone; she decided on a faux silver one that had several rows of loops, with little discs along the edges, and a pair of dangly earrings that were close enough to more-or-less pass for a set.

If it was all too much for doing laundry… so what? She felt like wearing it, and it felt far more true to her real self than what she wore to work every day. More true than heavy jeans and a baggy T-shirt would have been. It was sort of sexy and sort of playful and in this neighbourhood of this city, it would attract attention.

It’s okay to feel sexy. It’s okay to want to look sexy. It’s okay to like other people looking at me.

Downstairs, with two bags of laundry stacked in the wire cart she’d picked up for this, she put on her angle-height black boots with the decorative silver chain, the heels higher than her work shoes but not so much she couldn’t walk a few blocks. She tossed necessities from her everyday purse into a smaller black leather one, slung that on one shoulder, and manoeuvred the cart out the door.

The walk to the laundromat was uneventful, even though two blocks away from home, Jillian had a bad moment of wondering what on earth she was doing—if she had to go out, why hadn’t she chosen something to wear that was at least somewhat more subtle? But she was already out, and she’d probably feel deeply disappointed in herself if she bolted for home. She took a deep breath, reminded herself to at least pretend to be confident, and kept walking.

An older man held the door for her so she could pull the cart inside, and she thanked him, smiling. The cart wasn’t glamorous, but cars were expensive and she really had little need for one, and taking a taxi four blocks each way felt like an absurd thing to do. This was practical, and that was, or at least had been, the only thing that she cared about. Right now, she found herself vaguely uncomfortable with the apparent clash between the prosaic little cart and her not-so-prosaic look.

She found two machines side by side and began to load her laundry into them.

“Oh, man, I’d so hit that.” Judging by the volume, she was intended to hear it. It was followed by quite a lot of snickering.

She finished with that handful and turned around, her hands braced to either side on the washer behind her. Oddly, nothing in the back of her mind registered it as a threat, only as an annoyance.

On the hard plastic chairs set up for customers while they waited, she saw two boys. She couldn’t dignify them with the term ‘men’ even though they were plausibly legally adult, as they nudged each other, both grinning as they looked her over with a total lack of tact. Or maturity.

Normally, Jillian found herself at a loss for how to respond to insults. She wasn’t sure where the response came from—it sounded in her head a lot like Min’s voice, when Min was at her most acerbic. Maybe she’d just internalized a lot of what Min said.

“Should I be flattered? I imagine you’d be willing to ‘hit’ a sheep if it had a heartbeat and would stay still long enough, and the heartbeat might be optional.”

The snickering stopped. “Geez. Stuck-up old bitch. Take a compliment already.”

“I have yet to hear one. Just as well that my interest in your opinion of me is equal to the odds that I would ever let you touch me.”

The mouthy one flushed. “So don’t dress like you’re advertising!”

“News flash: it’s my body. It’s not about you. I can dress it, enjoy it, and share it however and whenever I choose, and you are not entitled to an opinion.” This whole exchange was stupid, and she had better things to do. She wasn’t even quite sure why she’d continued this long. She was irritated with this pair in particular, and angry at the whole social system that reinforced it. It wasn’t like she’d never had unwanted attention before, starting with a regular customer at her high school retail job who had interpreted her at-work friendliness as meaning she was interested. It was starting to feel, though, as if caring how she looked and dressing to please herself translated to some men as meaning she was available, maybe even that she’d welcome it.

Sadly, she suspected that when approached, Kaylee and Christine would act outraged but secretly be pleased. How messed up was that, on all sides?

Right now, it wasn’t like these two were going to listen to logic. “If you want to look, I can’t stop you. If you want to masturbate tonight to fantasies about making me follow the script in your head and act properly grateful that you consider me worthy of having any bit of your anatomy shoved inside mine, I can’t stop that either. But I promise, I won’t be thinking about you. You just aren’t that interesting or important. But then, until you learn to treat women with respect, you’ll probably get that response a lot. You are literally not worth any more of my time.” She turned her back on them and resumed pulling laundry out of the bag and shoving it in the machine.

She heard a few muttered insults, but she was fairly sure they had no idea how to respond to that. They slunk off in the direction of the drink machine, possibly unable to leave yet.

That left Jillian wondering where her response had come from, since it was so unlike her. It wasn’t quite like Min, either, but definitely more like Min. While Min was by no stretch of the imagination any kind of Amazonian man-hater, she had no tolerance for male assumptions of superiority and entitlement. There were echoes in it of Nik’s philosophy too. It might have been worrying, had Jillian believed that Min or Nik had any interest in messing around with her mind. As it was, it was something to be curious about, no more.

She got both machines working, and found a chair other than the ones the adolescent-minded pair had been in. She pulled out her phone, planning to catch up on a couple of emails, but her mind kept wandering. Despite feeling intensely self-conscious, she also felt oddly confident—was that where her retort had come from? But where did the confidence come from? It wasn’t because she knew she had value to Min and Nikandros and their fae friends, was it? That wasn’t all that much of an improvement over being considered sexually appealling by random men, even if it was more selective and they had higher standards. Was the confidence because, despite the self-consciousness, her current clothes felt far more like a reflection of who she was than the clothes she’d been wearing all day?

It’s okay to feel sexy. It’s okay to look sexy. It’s okay to want to look sexy. It’s okay to like other people looking at me.

And at least a couple were. The corset made it uncomfortable to slump in the hard chair, so her back was straight; the height of the chair meant she had her ankles crossed but tucked back so she wouldn’t be tripped over by anyone passing. Her posture was distinctly different from those around her, who were mostly slumped, bored or tired or both, and most of the fashion choices suggested either just-done-work or just-don’t-care. Drawing some attention was inevitable, but it was non-intrusive and she didn’t mind if they got some pleasure out of it, even though that wasn’t the reason for it.

The two rude boys, snickering together again, wandered back over in her direction. She ignored them. Like online trolls, any response would encourage them, and she probably shouldn’t have bothered earlier. One was holding a can of cola, obviously still closed given the rather careless way he was gesturing with that hand.

Quicker motion made her glance up, just in time to see him give the can a couple of violent shakes and then tip it in her direction and crack the top.

Except that somehow, the can was tilted the other way by the time the spray erupted, all over the two boys, the floor, and the nearest machine, but completely missing anyone else.

“Jesus, can you not aim?” the empty-handed one snarled.

“I did! Something bumped the can!”

“There was no one near you!”

Jillian saw unexpected movement not far behind them, and focused on the door of one of the big industrial dryers. Her own reflection in it was laughing merrily, if silently.

If makeup effects Echo created in the mirror existed in the real world… could she nudge the bottom of a can in the mirror, and have it tilt for real? That would certainly explain this.

The laundromat attendant looked less than pleased as she fetched a mop to clean up the mess. “Was that on purpose?”

“Who, me? Waste of pop.”

“Uh-huh. Y’think I’m deaf? Quit harrassing other customers or you’ll have to leave, doesn’t matter if your clothes are done or not. And if your little stunt worked, I’d’ve banned you.”

“But she…”

“Don’t care. She can wear pjs or a ball gown, as long as she’s not being a nuisance. Only nuisance right now is you. Bathroom’s that way, try not to drip on the floor more than you have to.”

Jillian’s reflection caught her eye, waved cheerfully, and went back to being just a normal reflection again.

She could ask Min later about how that worked—could Echo inhabit any reflection she chose? Only Jillian’s? And what did that mean in terms of Jillian’s privacy? Although she couldn’t really muster up any genuine apprehension about Echo’s presence. She’d never seen her or had a conversation with her, but nonetheless, she had to admit that she liked the mirror fae. Presumably Echo wasn’t the only one, since presumably Echo had her own life as well and besides, many places had a shortage of shiny reflective surfaces, but it was a comforting thought. How many other fae owed some sort of allegiance to Min, anyway? But one way or another, Min clearly had no intention of allowing any harm to come to her human favourite, and possibly that extended to bad behaviour that would be discouraging.

While she was folding her clean, dry clothes at a table, a man around her own age approached. “Excuse me?” He waited until she looked up, then smiled at her. “Um, please don’t think I’m being rude, but… is there any chance we could maybe go out for coffee or something sometime? Just to talk, maybe see what we have in common?”

The blue jeans and black Alice Cooper t-shirt were casual, but they were clean and they fit him well, which seemed consistent with the rest of his appearance: well-groomed and neat and fairly fit, beard trimmed very close to his jaw and hair long enough to draw back, which at moments looked brown and at others looked blonde, either way with the occasional thread of silver. Both ears were pierced, with thick-looking silver horseshoes that had black balls on the ends. What she almost missed was the moderately-heavy necklace chain of flattened links—ordinary enough, except that the ends were tiny handcuffs that linked together. Around both forearms, blue tattoos spiralled like snakes, a long line with many shorter lines crisscrossing it in some sort of pattern. On second thought, considering the creases at the corners of his eyes, he might be a little older than her first estimate, but if so, he looked after himself.

Under most circumstances, she’d have taken him up on the offer immediately, though the necklace, if she’d even noticed, might have made her cautious about what his interests might include.

Her life already involved a mostly-absent boyfriend that she couldn’t tell about an increasingly large aspect of her life. The last thing she needed was to increase the complexity any further.

“I’m sorry,” she said, with worryingly real regret, “I have a boyfriend already.” Although she was less and less sure where that relationship was going.

His gaze couldn’t possibly have flickered to the collar. Min had hidden that.

He smiled again. “Fair enough, although I’m selfish enough to wish you didn’t. But does that have to rule out coffee? I promise, I do understand boundaries. I just moved here not long ago and I don’t have many local friends yet, and I’m always up for meeting interesting people.”

“And I look like interesting people?”

“You look like someone with a mind of her own and the confidence to be herself. That’s about as interesting as it gets, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Mm. You sound like my friend’s husband. All right. Coffee, but it might take me a few days to figure out when. The immediate future is looking a little cluttered.” She picked up her phone, opened the Contacts list and created a new entry, and offered it to him to fill in.

“At the moment, I don’t have a rigid schedule, but within the next week or two, I’ll be working. At that point, I’m free all day Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and done work at five on Thursday and Sunday, but I work late Friday and Saturday. And, like I said, not currently a very active social life around that, so I’m flexible. Whenever works for you, around all that clutter.” He gave her back her phone. “I’m Ethan.”

“Jillian.”

“A name I’m hoping to see on my phone soon. I’ll let you get back to finishing your laundry.” He inclined his head, and turned away, striding down the room to flip open a washer that had finished its cycle.

All that, and he hadn’t once made her feel like prey to be stalked or meat to be bought, Jillian reflected. That was a nice change, and it was a shame she hadn’t met him before her life got so… complicated. Then again, from the sounds of it, he wouldn’t have noticed her before, in the jeans and loose t-shirt she typically wore for doing laundry.

Still, going out for coffee couldn’t hurt.

She gathered everything up, stowed it back in the buggy, and when she saw Ethan glance in her direction, she smiled at him before heading for the door.

At home, with her laundry put away, she faced the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Would this even work? Would she be disturbing Echo if it did? Interrupting something? Or was it more like a phone call? But she did want to say this personally, not just pass it on via Min.

So she said, “Echo? Are you busy for a minute?”

It took several seconds for her reflection to blink, then smile and look at her quizzically, head tilted to one side.

“Thank you,” Jillian said. “For helping me earlier, and doing it brilliantly. No scene, just them getting what they asked for.”

Echo gestured dismissively, but said, and even Jillian could lip-read it, You’re welcome.

“I’m not going to keep you, I just wanted to say that. I really appreciate it. And I really want to do something in return one of these days.”

Echo’s smile broadened. You are. She blew Jillian a kiss, and her reflection went back to normal.

Jillian turned away from the mirror and went downstairs to the kitchen to see what she could put together for supper. Possibly she was going to have to go back out and visit the grocery store.

Next time: Friday evening. Time to pay off Jillian’s side of the bargain!

She couldn’t let on that the collar he couldn’t see meant that the clock was ticking on his freedom to behave badly.

That collar was also a pledge of protection, though.

Broken toys are no fun. You’re valuable to us.

Min was her friend, and on a colder note, they’d want her able to pay her debt. Flair had assured her that the fae got something precious to them out of bargaining, though she couldn’t explain exactly what—only that it was something much deeper than she’d yet been able to work out. The superficial theme varied, and she thought that sexuality and gender were common largely because humans in many cultures attached so much importance and complexity to them. She’d seen one person, who’d made only two bargains and then fled, whose religious fanaticism had been challenged and tested, and another was a poet with rather arrogant ideas about True Art, and she thought she remembered one with a previous owner whose obsession with honour and pride and social standing had been called into question. She’d warned Jillian that themes tended to continue, though, so hers would almost certainly continue to be sexual—but while some fae delighted in pushing humans into complete self-destruction, Min and her closest were not among them. As evidence, she’d offered Dagrun’s trio, who had at least three bargains each behind them and were unquestionably not broken.

Flair had also promised her fervently and repeatedly, in response to Jillian’s apprehension, that absolutely nothing that happened during a debt payment could interfere with their being friends. Since the alabaster-and-metal fae pet had become a trusted and valued friend, even if as much of that was by phone as in person, Jillian very much hoped that was the case. Flair might be able to disregard things, but could she?

The collar gave Min greater power to protect her. She needed to remember that.

The morning went smoothly: Brett was in a meeting.

As lunchtime approached, she contemplated her options. Too nauseous with anxiety to stomach breakfast, she knew she needed to eat something. She had a microwave dinner in the break room that she could have for lunch, but that left her here and accessible. She could flee the building before he reappeared…

Someone set a large, pleasantly-fragrant paper bag in front of her.

Startled, she looked up.

Those eyes weren’t yellow now, though they remained an unusually light warm brown. No horns, and he looked more mature, less the perpetual youth, with fine lines on his face and traces of silver in his black hair. Black leather jeans, a short-sleeved silky black shirt that was open two buttons too far to be office-appropriate, with a single gold chain supporting a black and gold pendant—the V-and-squiggle she’d learned was Capricorn, the same one that was on her toy…

And her panties were suddenly wet.

“Min’s worried about whether you’ve been eating right,” he said cheerfully. “Chinese from your favourite, and she told me what to order. My treat.”

“What… how did you even get in here?” The contents of that bag did smell good.

He smelled better.

“I’m persuasive.” He spread a hand, expression innocent. “What can I say, people like me.” He leaned a hip on the edge of her desk, and the frivolity melted into gravity. “Min asked me to help out on this one. That’s completely within the rules, since her debts are mine and mine are hers and there are no debts between us. Plus she knows that I really dislike men who pull this kind of thing. And I do mean intensely ferociously passionately dislike.”

Jillian blinked. That was unexpected, and derailed her attention from the warmth between her legs. Which was just because he was a satyr and that was what they did, right? “You do? Why?”

He smiled. “What, because I’m a satyr? That’s exactly why I detest force and intimidation. Y’see, in my experience, and I have a lot of it, women are at least as strongly sexual in nature as men are. Wildly generalizing trends, here, of course. Give me someone any day who’s enthusiastic and gives as good as she gets—fuck of a lot more fun than someone terrified of her partner and her own sexuality. Betcha your boyfriend loves it, the more obviously you’re really into what you’re doing. Or he’s doing. Or whatever.”

Jillian felt herself blush. “Um, yes, usually.”

“The problems start when you’re punished for it. I’ve noticed that women who feel genuinely safe and know there won’t be any penalties for it very often enjoy dressing in ways that make them feel good about themselves. Not all, not always, but a lot. And they tend to be more sure of themselves and what they want, and not afraid of it. If they won’t be in danger or shamed, they’re more inclined to agree to or invite sex. Now, I personally think it’s win-win all around if as many women as possible are dressing sexier and more open about wanting sex and feel safe indulging in it. Assholes who figure they’re entitled to just claim a woman who appeals to them, or otherwise harass, threaten, assault, shame, insult, blame, blah blah depressingly long list of variations, spoil things for everyone. Less confident creative sexy self-expressive eye candy to appreciate, and less awesome uninhibited sex for everyone. All because some assholes can’t be bothered making an effort to be appealing and respectful and give women a reason to feel they’re worth time and trust, and then blame women that they’re alone. Believe me, no matter who you are and what you’re into, no matter how you look or how rich you are, there is someone out there who will think you’re wildly hot, although they’re harder to find if people don’t feel safe. There is just no need for this crap, it’s lazy and selfish and self-entitled and sulky, and I have no patience for it.”

“You’re probably right,” Jillian reflected. “But we’re also in a society that says that women, ideally, are supposed to all be sexy eye candy all the time.”

“True, but that’s not about feeling comfortable in your own body and expressing that, it’s about putting on a show for men, even if that means brutalizing your body instead. And then choosing whether to be shamed as a slut or guilt-tripped as a cock-tease with no other options. That is not safety. And telling women that they’re only beautiful or sexy when they’re young or only a single ideal body type is just ridiculous. A mature and confident woman with real honest curves… yummy.” He licked his lips and grinned.

“You’re pretty free with your hands. Among other things.” At the next desk, she noticed Ben watching her guest. Ben was about as blatantly and aggressively straight as anyone she’d ever met—he was divorced, possibly more than once, and always seemed to be talking about a different girlfriend.

“Only when invited. Without an invitation, my hands, among other things, stay strictly to themselves. Your food is getting cold, by the way, and you don’t have forever to eat.”

“Right. Sorry. And thank you.” Jillian opened the bag and took out the containers within. Seriously, the sex-mad satyr perched on the edge of her desk was more into sincere respect and consent than many human men? After what he’d done to her and seen done to her for twelve hours, he was still better at treating her like an intelligent equal? How did that logic work? Although, when she thought about it, his philosophy actually did make a strange sort of sense.

“You’re very welcome.” The grin came back. “I have multiple reasons for wanting you to stay healthy.”

Ben got up and approached them. Approached Jillian’s desk, at least, though he paid no attention to her. What was he doing? For all he knew, Nikandros had every right to be there, so he wasn’t going to object to his presence, was he?

“Excuse me for just a minute, Jillian.” Nikandros focused on Ben, body language completely relaxed, inviting even, though an invitation to what, she dared not pursue. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Have we… do I know you?” Ben asked.

Jillian blinked, odd shadows catching her eye. Did Ben seriously have a hard-on? One he was making no effort to hide, although presumably he was aware of it?

“I don’t think so,” Nikandros said, though his tone stayed friendly and casual. “Which is a shame, you look like a fascinating guy. I’m a bit busy right now with my wife’s friend, but maybe I can catch up with you later. But if not, when you’re alone you could let yourself fantasize about me and all the fun things we could do. No harm in that, and I’d be flattered, not offended.”

“Um. Right. I’ll do that, for sure. I really hope you get time.”

Nikandros’ gaze ran along his entire body, head to toe, appreciatively. Jillian didn’t personally consider Ben notably appealing, even on a purely physical level, but satyrs seemed to be more open-minded. “Definitely. Why don’t you go get yourself some lunch, so I can talk to Jillian, okay? And if anyone asks, you know it’s perfectly fine for me to be here. Security wouldn’t have let me in otherwise, right?”

“Yeah, of course it’s fine. See ya around.” There was nothing at all unusual about Ben’s expression or speech or even his body language, apart from that ignored hard-on, but the content was more than a little bizarre. He headed for the break room.

Nikandros sighed. “There was a time when he would have approached naked without any shame and offered that as a gift… sometimes I miss those days.”

That had probably not been any time in recent history—although given the goings-on she’d heard happened in some Victorian secret societies, anything was possible. “That was weird,” Jillian said. “Was Ben really…?”

“Thinking about sex with me? Of course he was. So are you, you’re just aware of it and you’re determined not to. Satyrs can’t help it, and humans can’t help it, it’s just how it works. He’s fine. He’ll have some masturbation fantasies about me, and if it doesn’t find anything to resonate with, it’ll be just once and he’ll find a way to rationalize it until he forgets.” He looked thoughtful. “Homophobia is as annoying as that whole misogyny thing we talked about already. Transphobia and rigid gender roles, too.”

“You loved the whole hippie flower child free love thing, didn’t you?”

That made him laugh. “Make love not war, baby.”

“You came all the way here to bring me lunch?” All her favourites from that restaurant—and far more than she was going to be able to eat right now. She’d have enough leftovers for supper. This was comfort food, not just something to fill her stomach.

“No. I need you to point him out to me, and he and I are going to have a chat in private, so I can get some idea just how big a project we’re looking at and how deep we’re going to have to go. Afterwards, I’m going to stay in sight to make sure that our chat doesn’t have bad consequences for you, and then I’m going to see you home. A comprehensive and permanent attitude adjustment is more complicated than dropping a few ideas and tweaking a bit of paperwork, and it’s going to take time to do right. Maybe he honestly was in the area for innocent reasons and isn’t contemplating violence, but we’re not going to risk your safety on that.”

“Oh, please tell me I’m not going to have someone around constantly for weeks. That’ll drive me bonkers.”

“We’ll find ways that won’t be so bad. But believe me, you are extremely well-protected. Short of one of us being in the office all day every day shadowing you, unfortunately we can’t do a lot immediately about his behaviour here. But anywhere outside of here, he’s not going to get near you.”

“That’s reassuring. I was half expecting to end up, at best, in a courtroom having my entire sexual history dragged out to prove I wanted him to rape me, and at worst being found dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Not going to happen. Try to trust in that. I brought you one other present.” He fished a small object from the pocket of his jeans and held it out on his palm. Warily, Jillian picked it up. A silver ring, a spiraled serpent, with glassy green eyes. “Once you put it on, leave it on. Taking it off will… ah, think of it as sounding an alarm that any fae within range will recognize. And since Min spread the word already that she values your safety, believe me, most fae will respond. Just because humans don’t see or recognize fae, treasure, that doesn’t mean there are no fae there. Lots of fae have no interest in humans. But they will be very interested in earning a favour from Min. You can take it off once this is all sorted out.”

That sounded like a useful kind of gift. Fae didn’t lie, so it must do what he said. She slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand. For an instant, she thought it was too tight, but after she flexed her hand, it fit quite comfortably. It struck her as improbable that it would turn her finger green or anything like that.

“Thank you.”

“It’s highly unlikely that you’re going to need to use it, but no harm in having a backup plan. Or in you having something tangible. You just went tense. Him?”

“Him. Coming this way.”

“Saves me the trouble, then. After I spend a while talking to him, we’ll be able to come up with a much more effective plan for how to handle him. You said not to kill him, so if all else fails and he’s just too warped to fix, we’ll castrate him, wipe chunks of his memory, and dump him so deep in the middle of nowhere that it’ll take him twenty years to find a phone.”

“You really don’t like guys like him.”

That grin showed his teeth. “You abuse it, you lose it. Aggressive animals should be neutered.”

“Excuse me,” Brett said, his tone noticeably curt. “Can I help you?”

Nikandros stood up and turned to face him. “Oh, just dropping off lunch to a friend.”

“Security let you through? Nevermind. I’m sure that’s very thoughtful, but this is a workplace, and part of my job is making sure no one’s bothering my people.”

He’s jealous, Jillian realized suddenly. Nikandros is an unknown quantity but just radiates sex. And Brett figures I belong to him, and this is a threat.

How fucked up is that?

Nikandros just smiled at him. “Of course it is. Which is why I’d like a chance to talk to you. Somewhere alone, so no one will interrupt. Just you and I. A bit of a man-to-man chat, hm?”

Oh my god, Brett’s getting a hard-on.

Every guy in the office is going to be walking funny and a lot of skirts and slacks are going to have damp spots, if he’s here long.

Brett shifted gears visibly. “What about? No, nevermind, but it needs to address barging into this office and hassling my staff.”

“If you want it to. Shall we? There’s somewhere private we can go, I hope.”

Jillian watched them go, then tried to concentrate on eating before she ran out of lunch break. Finally, she packed it up, labelled the bag with a magic marker and stapled it shut, put it in the break room fridge, and got back to work.

It was some time before she spotted Nikandros wandering casually around the office, not really interfering much with anyone in particular for long—amusing himself while she finished up, she thought. No one objected to his presence, and everyone seemed perfectly willing to indulge him in conversation. Still, she definitely got the sense that he was keeping an eye on her. Once, she was sure the satyr intervened. She emerged from the bathroom cautiously, since Brett had used that to contrive bumping into her a couple of times, only to see him from behind as he walked away. Nikandros, nearby, winked at her and continued listening with apparent interest to a co-worker she knew was a heavy anime fan.

When people began to gather up their things and leave, Nikandros managed to casually be at Jillian’s desk before Brett got anywhere near her, without any impression of having hurried. Brett scowled and changed his route.

“Ready?” Nikandros asked. “I promised to see you home safely.”

“Sure. Just let me grab the rest of the food.”

Conversation on the bus was intermittent and shallow, other than Nikandros gently dealing with two women and a man who approached him with no idea what they wanted to say, clearly just wanting to get close to him.

“Coming in?” Jillian asked him, unlocking her apartment door.

“Since you asked.”

“What, you can’t come in uninvited?”

“You’re thinking of vampires. I just consider it rude, personally.”

“Hm. Are there really vampires?”

“I have genuinely never heard of anything that sparkles and likes the taste of blood.” He followed her inside, and closed the door.

Jillian looked around, setting the food and her purse on the small table near the door, and frowned. “Someone’s been in here.”

“Mm, well, I said I consider it rude. Not everyone does.”

“This was a friend?” She stood back to look at the door. Tacked around the frame in an unbroken loop was a narrow cord. It was the red of fresh blood, but she saw glints in it. On closer inspection, the glints were hair-thin strands of metal that looked like gold, and the red part was very soft and glossy and felt vaguely damp, tightly spun together into what could be thick thread or thin yarn.

“Henry. He’ll have done the windows, as well. Nothing that means you harm can pass through, and nothing outside can see in. It won’t last forever, but it should for long enough.”

“I shouldn’t ask, right?”

“Correct. I can’t think of any circumstances in which asking would have any point, even if you’re asking those of us who will tolerate from our own what would otherwise be unforgivable—and remember that outside of Min and I, Henry, Dagrun and Sigrun, Sati and Nechtan, and another friend you haven’t met yet, that is a real danger.”

Jillian spun around, and started to stammer an apology. Was she getting too comfortable with the weirdness, was she going to get herself in trouble?

“Stop,” he told her firmly. “You’re already stressed enough by other things, and I’m not going to add to it. Just be careful who you ask questions of even obliquely, please. Although in this case, even if I chose to try answering and had any hope of successfully translating, I don’t know enough about it. Henry was bargaining with the tribes in Germany long before Min or I were born and long before there was anything like a German nation. His skills are very primal and very powerful. And he likes you. You impressed him.”

“I what? But I didn’t…”

Nikandros chuckled. “Now how can you hope to know what would win our respect or our pleasure when you don’t know the goal or the rules, and when we can’t even begin to explain them? All you can do is surrender control to us and do as you’re told. Trust that we have reasons and that as long as you let us, we can make sure you only do what’ll please us. If you fight us, then there is a distinct chance of absolutely no one getting anything they want. It has happened, almost always the first time which is also the last. You, however… you are genuinely a treasure, and I’m looking forward to next weekend.”

She blushed scarlet as the thread, and looked down.

He chuckled. “So we need to make sure you’re safe and sound, not exhausted from looking behind you constantly or faint with hunger. Now that I know you’re home in one piece, I should leave you to unwind, undress, and generally shake off the day.” Black eyebrows rose. “Unless you’d like some help with any of that. Especially the undressing part. I gather my gift to you was sexy lingerie. Do I get to see it?”

Jillian hesitated. The tone was playful, and she didn’t think he’d be upset by refusal. On the other hand, he was the reason she had the underwear that felt so good and was subtly making such a change in her self-image. She believed him that he wouldn’t touch her without consent.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her most private parts up close, and used her juices on vegetables as flavouring.

And even if she did know what was causing it and was fighting it, she’d been in close proximity much longer than anyone else today, and it was making her feel giddy and reckless.

So she smiled at him. “Fair’s fair.”

He leaned against the door, watching with flatteringly intense interest, as she unzipped the back of her black skirt and slid both hands under the waistband to wiggle it down over her hips, allowing the red of her garter belt and the top of her black stockings to come into view under the bottom of her blouse. She stepped out of it delicately, without removing her once-favourite black strappy heels, and bent down to pick it up and toss it on the table. The buttons on her blouse took a moment to undo, and she kept it closed until she finished so she could let the whole thing slither off her shoulders, baring red bra and red camisole and black corset.

“Technically I bought the red ones,” she said. “I liked the white and the black that Flair talked me into so much I couldn’t resist getting red and pink too. If they had more colours I’d get them. Or if the corsets came in anything but white and black. I think I’m thoroughly hooked.”

“And since you’re adding to the overall beauty of the world… wow, that was a purchase that was more than worth it.” She saw his nostrils flare, catching some scent, but she couldn’t tell whether his expression changed. “Thank you. And if you find you need more, please let me know. Encouraging that is a gift to everyone around you.” He offered a hand; when she laid hers in it, he raised it so he could press a gallant kiss to her fingers. “And with that delightful image in mind, I’ll take my leave. Rest, relax, and feel safe.”

* * *

Tiredly, Jillian unlocked her apartment door and dumped her overnight bag on the floor.

She’d have far preferred her usual Saturday with Min and Flair.

The three-hour drive meant leaving early on Saturday morning for Gary’s cousin’s wedding. Because of his grandparents, he’d wanted her to dress conservatively, which she would have accepted as natural a few months ago but now found herself labelling as ‘boring’ and ‘unflattering’—which edged towards ‘uncomfortable’ when he asked her not to wear a corset or a bra with quite so much lift. She normally wore one of the lightweight corsets from the time she got up until she undressed for bed, and sometimes longer if Gary was there and she fell asleep in her underwear. Even when she had her period, most days she only laced it more loosely to go out, and only left it off if she had the option of staying home in pyjamas and goofing off. She tried hard not to let herself think of it as ‘insulting.’

Knowing no one at the wedding left her restricted to inane small talk and polite smiles and nods for much of the time, any possible attempt at being outgoing derailed by feeling frumpy and subdued. Her demure pale pink dress and low heels felt like a disguise, though she was aware of the odd comment about her raspberry-red hair behind her back from more elderly relatives. She started to wish, before long, that her collar was visible to them, just to rebel and give them something to whisper about.

The booze had been flowing freely Saturday night. Since, as usual, she limited herself to an occasional drink that didn’t greatly interfere with her faculties, she was able to watch the chaos. It seemed that the more strait-laced and traditional an individual was, the more likely they were to lose control completely when an outside force disrupted inhibitions.

Insufficient and poor-quality sleep after the party wound down was capped off by a family brunch before they could start the drive home. At least she’d been able to toss ordinary jeans and a creamy t-shirt into the car to wear today, which was an improvement but an inadequate one.

She’d refused to let Gary stay with her tonight, pleading fatigue. But it was as much mental as physical. She didn’t want to be that person. She didn’t want to pretend to be.

She kicked off her pink pumps and stripped off the jeans and t-shirt on the way to the stairs. The least Gary could have done was pay for the dress and the shoes, since she had no desire to wear them ever again and she’d bought them for this, rather hastily, only a couple of days ago after he nervously made his request about her wardrobe.

She stopped in her tracks at the top of the stairs. In the middle of her bed was a large cardboard box with a note taped to the top.

Hadn’t Nikandros said nothing hostile could get in?

So it must be friendly, right?

Cautiously, she pulled the note free to read it.

Dropping this off at Nikandros’ request, pretty thing. – Henry

Abandoning caution for curiosity, she used the small scissors from the top of her dresser to slit the tape sealing the box and open it.

Satiny fabric, a treasure-chest of colours, and another note, in a different hand, neat and flowing and maybe a bit old-fashioned.

You gave me a gift by choosing freely to let me see how appetizing you look without your workday camouflage. I’d consider it an honour if you’d accept this – with the ulterior selfish motive of encouraging you to dress in ways that make you feel and therefore look as sexy as possible. These jewels seemed better-suited to a living treasure than the cold hard sort confined in metal.

It was, of course, signed Nikandros.

She started scooping out the contents onto her bed, exhaustion and stress forgotten as she pawed through the collection of fabric. Probably not real satin, it had the stretchy feel of the bras and panties she’d bought at the lingerie store. The styles matched perfectly, as well, but the store didn’t have these colours! Not only complete sets of bra, panties, garter belt, and corset undershirt/camisole, she found as she sorted them into piles. There were corsets too, identical to the lightweight underbust ones she was in love with… but they weren’t just white or black, there was one to go with each colour, and a rose and a red one as well to match her other sets. Deep amethyst, rich forest green, a vivid royal blue that she suspected matched the dress in her closet, a mellow honey-yellow, and, of all things, shiny metallic silver. And there were three pairs of stockings, sheer and fishnet and lace, to match each and every colour, including her pink and red.

At the very bottom was a zippered silver-grey nylon bag. She unzipped it, peeked in, then tipped out the contents to sort.

Nail polish, liquid lipstick, liquid eyeliner, and single eyeshadows, all ultra-saturated colour, and each was in every single colour that matched her new lingerie—right down to white and black. She didn’t recognize the name of the company, but she’d have been willing to bet it wasn’t drug-store quality.

That wasn’t just supporting her in keeping on as she was, which was amazing enough. It was encouraging her to be creative. How would her little black dress look with blue stockings, and her lips and nails sapphire to match? Playful, unconventional… fun. What about denim capris and a semi-sheer white blouse over, say, green or red?

What else could she devise, especially after a shopping trip at through the local thrift shops for the unusual with this in mind?

After a weekend of pressure on all sides to be as small and plain and unremarkable as possible, this was nothing less than rain in the desert.

She ran back downstairs to grab her phone. Since she had no way to contact Nikandros directly, she texted Min.

«Please tell him I said thank you x50! I SO needed this after the last 2 days!»

It occurred to her belatedly that she hadn’t specified which him. Apparently, Min knew anyway.

«I’ll pass that on. The best thanks is to wear it and enjoy it. He does love helping women feel and look sexy!»

«Believe me, I will! Henry too for delivery. Will tell you about it later. Right now, want a shower, maybe curry down the block so I don’t have to cook, then my bed.»

To go out, of course, meant getting dressed, and even if it was only long enough to walk there, sit and eat, and walk back, it would still feel wonderful to reassert her own identity. She could take one of the books Flair assured her was good, rather than a current bestseller, and just… be her.

Next time: it’s hard to fight the instinct to hide until it’s over, even with a promise of protection, but a rebellious streak can help… and there might be an unexpected payoff.

I have to do this.

At this hour, Jillian probably should have chosen something else to wear. Something safer, like loose jeans and running shoes and an oversized t-shirt.

Somehow, lately, the thought of going out while dressed sloppily made her wince—not that she couldn’t do it, on lazy days or period days or extremely active days, but it just didn’t feel right if she was going to be interacting with others.

Invariably, since moving a month ago, she’d been wearing the new sort of underclothes, always a matched set of bra and panties and garter belt, and nearly always, she had one of the simple underbust corsets on as well. She was comfortable wearing one all day now, and getting better at tightening it; she loved how it felt and how it looked, looked forward to being able to lace it more tightly. She really needed to ask Min about more serious ones.

Maybe because of how that felt, her work wardrobe had been gradually shifting away from generic anything-acceptable towards things that looked good on her, suited her in style and colour, made her feel good in person and when she looked at the mirror. She kept it appropriate for work, of course, and after work, switched to snug stretchy jeans or more interesting skirts with close-fitting tops. Colours were drifting away from neutrals and pastels into more vivid hues—jewel-tones, she’d thought in amusement a time or two. If her heels were higher on her own time, the colour of her lipstick more creative and bold, well, it was her body and her time and it made her feel just a bit sexy.

It’s okay to feel sexy. I won’t feel bad about feeling good.

That voice no longer sounded like Nikandros. She suspected, in the odd moments she thought of it at all, that it was her own. No effects were supposed to last, but it wasn’t particularly intrusive. All it did was make it a little easier to do what she wanted to do anyway.

Right now, despite the hour, she’d made a particular effort to look good. Showing respect mattered with fae.

So, she was walking from her apartment to a park, after moonrise. She’d decided on jeans, faded blue stretchy ones that fit like another layer of skin but remained comfortable. She’d been delighted to find a black sleeveless knit top that had a vaguely scaled pattern in shiny red across the entire surface; under it, she had her black corset laced as tightly as she could tolerate. Even though it was crazy at this hour, she was wearing the red faux-snakeskin four-inch pumps that she adored but rarely felt appropriate wearing in public. She’d done her lips dark metallic red and lined her eyes black, and had in black earrings that looked like snakes dangling in a spiral. Her nails, now growing out somewhat like her hair, were painted the same red.

Show respect was part of the basic formula. Baggy jeans weren’t going to do that. Making sure she looked good, pushing her own comfort zone just a little, and offering some acknowledgement of her patron—Flair said that was the proper term, patron and favourite—was a better idea, even if she usually saw said patron two or three times a week.

So, she was strolling along the street, her heels clicking on the pavement. Her small black purse held only minimums: phone, keys, ID, a bit of cash, lipstick and a mirror, and the black and green snakeskin collar. She didn’t want to hurry. Looking anxious drew attention, and rushing was only going to mean she got there stressed. On the other hand, looking uncertain or lost also drew attention. So she aimed for confident and self-assured with a goal in mind.

It’s okay to feel sexy. It’s okay to look sexy. It’s okay for other people to know you feel sexy.

Even if this might be a little much for this hour around here.

She reached the park, and followed one of the asphalt paths to the bench where she’d met Min by moonlight, some three months before.

Am I even the same person?

Sometimes I don’t feel like it.

She sat down on the bench, ankles crossed, and took the collar out of her purse to play with.

Déjà vu… same bench, though under less moonlight this time. But three months ago, she’d had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now, she knew what the collar in her hands felt like. She knew that whatever price she paid was going to push her to the limits of her tolerance, though she had faith that it wouldn’t be beyond them. Beyond what she thought they were, that was pretty much a given.

She could still back out. Up until Min actually agreed, she had that option. It only disappeared once the bargain was made. She could tell Min that she’d changed her mind since texting her to ask her to meet her, and Min wouldn’t be upset, might even have ideas that didn’t depend on a bargain.

Flair, mostly by phone, had helped her work through how to ask for what she needed, pointing out loopholes and ambiguities, and had made a suggestion that would not have occurred to Jillian. She’d promised to say nothing to Min, whether Jillian chose to do it or not.

“Jill.”

Jillian looked up, straight into Min’s eyes.

“Talk to me,” Min said gently. “You’ve been very quiet for over a week now. Flair said you talked to her and she asked me to let you be and let you speak up when you were ready.” She laid one hand over Jillian’s, which were knotted around the collar. ”I’m not agreeing to anything that I think is going to be bad for you. Don’t offer anything yet. Just tell me.”

Jillian took a deep breath. “I’ve told you before about Brett. My supervisor at work.”

“The one who uses pet names for you uninvited and feels free to make sexist and excessively personal comments. Yes, I remember.”

“And he used to watch me a lot. That was bad enough. But lately… he seems to have decided that I dyed my hair and started thinking more about feeling good and looking good all for his sake. I was sort of distracted with moving and all, but it’s getting worse. Every time I turn around, he seems to be trying to get as close to me as possible. Not, like, a reasonable distance, but right in my personal space, and if he can manage to brush against me, he does. Especially his groin against my backside. And the personal comments are starting to sound more and more like sexual innuendo. Monday, he grabbed my ass, and when I called him on it, he laughed at me and told me that a skirt that tight is an invitation and if I don’t want attention, don’t dress that way.” She wrapped both arms around herself, shivering.

That had been infinitely more degrading than anything she could remember, far more so than standing meekly bent over while Henry fondled her. Brett had dismissed her objections as hypocrisy on her part and mocked her anger as being trendy feminism. She’d never felt more impotent rage. The skirt she’d been wearing was a perfectly respectable dark rose one that stopped just above her knees, a knit that hugged her body a bit more than a typical woven one, but still of a weight and fit that avoided lines from panties and garter belt.

Min sighed. “Yes, because everything a woman does is about and for men. This is much more extreme than before. Can you speak to his supervisor and make a complaint?”

“I could try. I mean, it’s all-out sexual harassment. The problem is that it comes down to he said-she said. He doesn’t do it with an audience, and his emails are perfectly proper. But… I ran into him less than a block from my apartment yesterday. He acted all surprised, maybe it really was an accident, but I don’t know. But, again, if I go to the police, what’ve I got for evidence? Nothing. Just my claims that he says inappropriate creepy things no one hears and tries to touch me when no one’s looking and I saw him, once, near my new apartment. At this point, I’m not sure I’d feel safe anymore even if I dyed my hair the flattest ugliest colour I could find and stopped wearing anything that feels good. And if he’ll do this to me… has he done it to other women? Will he do it to other women after me? How far does he think it’s okay to go? Has he ever hurt someone… and is he willing to hurt me and say that I asked for it?”

“Shh.” Min moved from her chair to the bench beside her, and wrapped an arm around her. It felt protective as much as reassuring, Jillian thought. “It’s quite understandable to be afraid. I detest and despise men like that, and I can think of several ways to deal with one that have been effective in the past. The simplest, which would not take a bargain, would be to ask Sigrun to have a word with him and inform him in detail of what she’ll do to him if he ever touches you again or you ever see him near your apartment. I imagine she’d be happy to do so.”

“That… that might protect me, but it won’t keep him off other women. I’m probably not the only one ever. I’d feel horrible thinking all I did was get him off my back so he could find a new target. And there still might be ways he could get at me at work.”

“Fair enough, and I believe you’re right. There are other ways I could protect you alone, but I can’t think of anything that would protect all women from him that doesn’t need a bargain. But, as I said, I’m reluctant to agree to anything that can lead to bad consequences for you. You’re already struggling with the ripples across your life from your first bargain.”

“It would be worth it, to make sure that he can’t do this anymore. But… twenty-four hours, right?”

“Yes. It doubles each time.”

“I made it through twelve. I think…” Jillian closed her eyes, made herself say it. “I’m not thinking that it’s going to be easy or I’ll be able to just walk away the next day like nothing happened. That would be stupid. Nothing’s free, and this isn’t something small. I’m not exactly the most adventurous person in the world, and yeah, last time shook me up pretty badly and yeah, I’m still trying to come to terms with the effects. But they aren’t all necessarily bad. I’m looking at dressing to look and feel good differently. Gary seems to be liking the new look and what we do in bed, even if my interest in sex seems to be exponentially higher and that’s frustrating with him working so much.” She stopped, licked her lips. None of that was what she’d worked out in advance with Flair; it was just naked truth. But fae liked truth, Flair had said more than once. The more deeply buried it had been, or the more difficult it was to say, the more compelling they found it. Min waited patiently.

“I think… afterwards, I’ll probably be scared and it’ll take me a while to cope with, well, whatever. But I can do that, and it’ll be worth it. That scares me much less than he does. And I know you’ll keep me safe.”

“Absolutely.” Min stroked a hand soothingly over Jillian’s bright red hair. “I very much do not want you to stop feeling safe exploring and dressing and acting how you wish. However. I don’t know any way to explain what it is that fae get from humans in this particular context. Suffice it to say, it is not simple or obvious, and asking you to spring-clean the villa will not do it.”

“I didn’t really think it would.”

“I don’t believe, realistically, I can make a broad blanket statement like ‘no sex of any kind’ a second time. But specific acts we can negotiate. In the interests of staying at least technically monogamous, no actual penis-in-vagina intercourse would be an acceptable limit.”

“I was… kind of afraid you couldn’t even do that. I can live with that.” She didn’t particularly want to think about Gary. Fae bargains weren’t exactly normal reality, and she wasn’t sure how normal definitions applied. But she was very sure that she had to do something in order to feel safe again.

“Good. So.” Min shifted her weight away and rose. She didn’t exactly stand up like a human did, just sort of flowed off the bench upright, and she was now dressed in shiny black that blended into a long skirt that spread wide around her, covering a considerable expanse of grass and asphalt. That probably meant she’d just shifted to her real form and under that skirt was a long powerful snake tail, though the details that went with that were hard to make out in the poor light. “You have previously proven that you repay your debts with honour. You speak truth to the fae and you have made a clear effort to demonstrate your respect. Ask for exactly what you want.”

Jillian knelt in front of her, fear and trust warring for dominance.

“I want… with no one innocent suffering for it, I want my supervisor Brett to stop treating anyone as objects instead of people and equals. I want him to not be rude and condescending and inappropriately sexual, and I want him not to touch anyone who hasn’t invited it, and I want him never to rape or hurt or kill anyone at any point in the future.” Flair’s influence, pointing out that it cost nothing extra to include the possibility of children or vulnerable males, not women alone. “Killing him is an absolute last-ditch option if nothing else works.” Wanting him to be an example, she and Flair had concluded, was a lost cause—others like him would learn nothing, and it would limit options as far as removing the current threat. “I don’t want him or anyone else to connect it to me specifically or have a reason to retaliate against me.” Given Min’s protectiveness, Flair thought it was unlikely she’d allow that anyway, but just in case. “Other than that, I don’t care how you do it. But if it can be timed so that I can repay it on a weekend, so I don’t have to skip work right at a time when he’s maybe having bad things happen, that would be better.” She hadn’t thought of trying to negotiate the timing of her share; Flair had suggested she toss it on the table.

“This one will be complex and it will take some time, certainly days, possibly more. We can agree on a date in advance, since you’ve previously proven yourself. The bargain remains in force until both debts are complete, regardless of when. If we have agreed on a date, you will not feel that same compulsion to come to me until that time, even if everything falls into place early. And I must complete what I have pledged, even if you have already paid. When would you prefer?”

That was a relief. “I promised Gary I’d go with him to his cousin’s wedding this weekend. I was going to wait until after that, but I got scared when I saw him on my street. Next weekend?”

“Done. So. One man no longer a potential source of inappropriate behaviour or verbal or physical violence, dead only if there is no other course of action, the innocent unharmed, and you not implicated in any way. In return, next Friday when you finish work, you’ll come to me, and for twenty-four hours you belong to me, with the sole provision of no penis-in-vagina intercourse.”

Jillian nodded, and wrapped the collar around her neck, buckling it by feel.

When Min ran a finger along it and touched the buckle, there was really no need to check what she’d just done.

The knowledge that there was no way to remove the collar and that it was a symbol of having locked herself into an unbreakable bargain made her squirm a little, feeling herself getting wet. She tried her best to pretend otherwise and ignore it. Normal women did not get turned on by such things.

“It will not come off until both sides are satisfied and the bargain is complete. I couldn’t even if you asked. However, no one will notice it, Gary included, I can do that much. While you wear it, you are in a grey area, and I have more freedom to actively protect you. I need to consider exactly how I will do that. For the moment… I’ll walk you home.” In between one blink and the next, Min was once again a human woman, in blue denim capris and a metallic gold short-sleeved top with gold sandals on her feet and intricate jewellery all of blue beads. She took a couple of steps to her chair and sat down. “Come along, dear. And try to let go of the fear. I will not allow you to be harmed, you matter too much to me.”

Neither spoke on the way. There really wasn’t anything to say. The silence was comfortable, though, without any trace of strain or awkwardness, Jillian’s heels on the pavement the only sound.

Jillian’s new apartment was at the side of a broken-up huge old house. Min could handle the couple of steps, if someone brought her chair, but tonight, she stopped on the street.

“I’ll make certain you’re safe. You can sleep without fear, I promise.”

Fae never lied. Jillian nodded. “Thank you. It’s been scary, feeling so… exposed, I guess, and knowing that being a woman up against a man, everything would be against me.”

“I know. If I had the power to make certain that no woman would ever be in such a position, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

“Are you sure you aren’t Lilith? Wasn’t she supposed to have refused to lie under Adam like a good obedient wife, and got associated with the serpent in Eden? You’re even sort-of married to a guy with hooves and horns.”

Min laughed. “I’m sure only that human interpretations and dramatizations of events are endlessly creative and can be inspired by anything, and sometimes take on a life of their own in a more real way than I can explain. Off you go, dear. I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

Jillian followed the walkway to her door, unlocked it, and switched on the light. All normal. She glanced back and waved, and went inside, bolting it behind her.

The apartment was a lovely bright one-bedroom of comfortable size with the bonus of a tiny windowless den that was too small to be a second bedroom. For the moment, she was keeping anything she hadn’t unpacked yet in it. Despite only two steps outside to reach the door, she didn’t feel at all bad about claiming it rather than leaving it for someone with mobility limitations, since the bedroom was at the top of a flight of stairs.

She’d made certain that all windows had curtains, colourful ones she could draw back during the day to let sunlight fill it, but thick enough that she could drop them into place and have privacy. She hadn’t pulled them back at all since seeing Brett in the area.

She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, flipped on the light, and regarded herself in the mirror. She wasn’t sure whether it was narcissism or vanity or something else, but she kept finding her own reflection fascinating—at least some of it was disbelief and appreciation that she could look like that.

That collar is effectively a part of me until this is over. Until after I’ve spent a full day, twice as long as before, doing and being whatever my mistress and her friends want. I’m scared. Not as scared as I am of Brett, at least I know I’ll come out physically okay, but oh god, what else is going to get stirred up? Even with no direct lasting mind control, am I still going to feel like me in another three months?

Crap. Didn’t negotiate any limits on the mind control thing.

And I am going to be wearing this collar 24/7 for at least a week and a half. Maybe longer. Possibly even much longer, depending how long it takes them.

Is that actually getting me turned on? Seriously? I am not a fae pet! And I am not the kind of person who gets turned on wearing a collar!

She pulled off her top, unbuckled her shoes, wriggled out of her jeans.

Well, there was a solution to being aroused with Gary unavailable. Flair had helpfully emailed her the list of all the commands and functions she’d been able to find, along with several examples of increasingly complex series of commands. She was still experimenting, and had concluded that some of the sensations were ones that didn’t do much for her, and devising a program that worked perfectly for her was going to take even longer. Even if she wasn’t in the mood to try something new, she had half a dozen she knew she enjoyed, all fine-tunable by verbal command, to give her a considerable range to accompany her fantasies, and she was even getting more comfortable talking to it. She no longer feared giving it the wrong command, and several times, had spent hours around home with it snug inside her, always dressed in ways she’d never dare go outside. It definitely helped keep her physically satisfied beyond any other point in her life. She needed a chance to thank Nikandros for it.

Next time: a satyr in the office, as Min recruits Nikandros to help.