by John Benson
The Sybil hummed and its garnet eyes glowed and its circuits warmed and it whirred to life. "All hail the Overlord," it said, not wanting to be rude.
"Never mind," Sardonyx snapped. "It's not pleasantries I want from you, it's news."
"A child is born," the Sibyl said, not chatty as it once was.
"Well?" Sardonyx prompted. The cave was dark, and the lumps of many strange machines revealed themselves in the glowing Sybil's eyes.
"Thy successor," the Sybil said. "A Mage of the first order."
The Overlord's fists clenched as if he might strike his own device. "What is his weakness?" he hissed.
"Hers," the Sibyl said. "It's a girl. She's a sexual submissive."
"Ha!" Sardonyx almost screamed it. "No problem then."
The Sibyl whirred and opened its beak and might have said much more, had the Overlord not reached behind its neck and turned it bloody off.
Eric found her in the inner courtyard sitting on a marble bench watching the little waterfall, hands folded in her lap. A young woman, cute but hardly beautiful, and her dress was gray with a little lace at throat and wrists. Not floozy enough to be a slave, nor decorative enough to suit a Lady. A commoner? That would be awfully odd.
"Who let you in?" asked Eric, more curious than annoyed. The moiré patterns on his tunic were modulated by his mood, so one could tell by looking.
She turned her face to him, an ivory oval a miniaturist might spend days on. "Why Lord Eric," she said sweetly. "I merely told the electronica that I'm not here, so they take no notice. I like it here, don't you? Whoever made this place understands the natural, and has made this reproduction with respect, not parody."
The little thing was teasing him. No way she could have fooled Wolf House defenses. His tunic swirled with tinges of annoyance. "Don't be pert," he scolded. "Tell me who you are, and who decided to let you in."
The corners of her mouth turned up. "Make me," she said.
An open challenge? His clothing flowed with grim resolve. "Behave this instant, girl, or I shall..." (what, rape her?) "... spank you!"
Her laughter echoed off the courtyard walls, taunting, teasing, and one simply does not threaten without following through, does one? So Eric really had no choice. He swooped down on the bench and sat beside the girl and pulled her across his lap. He expected serious resistance but there was almost none, merely a sharp intake of breath as he skinned up her dress exposing naked buttocks of alabaster white. She would bruise easily. Eric's clothing swirled with lust but the girl was face down and did not see. He raised his hand, took aim.
Whack! A little whimper rewarded him, and a blotch of pink where his hand had been. His manhood thickened, and he hoped she would not break too soon. Lord Eric was having fun.
Whack, whack!
"Ooh!"
"Are you going to tell me, child?"
"Uh uh."
Whack, whack, whack!
"Oh yes. Do it hard. Spank me really hard."
He found a rhythm, bringing his hand down so hard it hurt him, trying to break her, trying to make bruises. She whimpered and wriggled lewdly and Eric's penis throbbed so, surely she must feel it. The desire to touch between her legs was strong and they both were winded, breathing hard, as punishment was giving way to lust.
"Lord Eric, please attend your father," the housebot said politely.
Eric halted in mid-spank reluctantly, and reluctantly he let his victim up. She was sweating and her cheeks were red and her pretty hair was sticking to her face. Desire had amplified her cuteness in his eyes as the testosterone imperative cascaded through his veins. "We have unfinished business, you and I," he said.
"Why yes, my Lord," she panted. "I do believe we do."
Brown eyes, moist, large, expressive. "Wait here," he said. "I'll be back."
But as he headed for the parlor the little thing followed him. "Do you spank all the girls you meet?" she asked pertly.
"Are you always such a brat?" he asked in turn.
"Well, yeah," she said. She giggled.
So slim, so graceful, so spankable, so fuckable, Lord Eric watched her as they walked, which was really rather odd. He normally detested brats.
Harold Lord Wolf was standing, hands clutched behind his back. "Oh there you are," he said. "Who's that?"
The little thing made a quite credible curtsy. "The Mage you sent for, Lord Wolf," she said. "I'm Lady Diane Carpenter."
Lord Eric made a less than manly squeak. His father scowled. "And just how old are you, my dear?"
"Nineteen, sir."
"Hmpf. Well I've asked for a rather senior Mage. One of the second order. And this is what I get?"
She smiled quite sweetly. "I have good news and bad news my Lord," she said. "The good news is that they've sent you a young first instead of an old second. The bad news is, well, they've sent you a young first instead of an old second. There's good and bad, you see."
Lord Wolf leaned forward. "Balderdash," he said. "There are no young firsts."
Eric was getting a very queasy feeling that he knew something he'd rather not. "There is the Heir," he said.
"What?" his father squawked.
"Housebot," Eric inquired mildly. "Who's the Heir to the Overlord?"
"One Lady Diane Carpenter, nineteen, current whereabouts unknown," the housebot said.
"Good Gods," Lord Wolf said. "And what would you be doing here?"
"I'm young," she said. "Getting a track record. Gaining experience."
"But. But, we have no suite grand enough to accommodate you. Unless we displace my sister Esmerelda, I suppose."
"Oh, pooh," the girl said. "I know just the place will suit me."
"Better check on protocol," Lord Wolf muttered. "Housebot, if the Lady Diane Carpenter came to visit, where would we put her up?"
"Why, anywhere she likes," the housebot said, its usually calm voice more bland than usual.
"I still think it's a trick," Wolf said.
Diane looked at Eric and winked. "Housebot," he asked, "how many people are in this room?"
"Two, Lord Eric," the housebot said. "Your father and yourself."
Proof positive. The little shit had flummoxed the automata, which was supposed to be impossible. The Lord Wolf sighed. "So where is it that the Lady Diane will sleep then?" he asked.
The girl giggled. "Why, with Eric," she said saucily.
Lord Wolf looked quite undone. And Eric's jaw dropped and his tunic blanched pure white with shock.
She ate a lot for one so small, and with manners merely adequate. Lady Diane nearly inhaled her food, as if it were fuel rather than an aesthetic experience. "This is really good," she said.
Eric felt like telling her to slow down enough to enjoy it but he was still so shocked he hid behind politeness. "A human cook," he said. "An indulgence well worth having."
Lord Wolf broke his dinner roll and buttered half with his usual precision. "Do you know the Overlord well, my Lady?" he asked.
She looked like she'd just sucked a pickle. "Only met him once when I was small," she said. "He seemed like quite an ogre."
Lord Wolf laughed politely.
"And you actually have the power to defeat him?" Eric prompted.
Her eyebrows arched. "And why ever would I?" she asked.
Well, duh. "Because the man is evil."
"I'm not so sure," Diane said. "I'll give you that the man is nasty, but I'm really not sure how much of that is he, and how much comes with the territory. If I unseat Sardonyx I might have to become him and I'm not very good at it, which might make matters worse."
"Then topple him and abdicate," said Eric. "Why have an Overlord at all?"
"Because politics abhors a power vacuum," his father said. "The Lords would fight to take his place."
Lady Diane rewarded him with such a megawatt smile that Eric felt distinctly jealous.
Alone in his rooms with this young creature and Eric felt ill at ease. There'd been women here before, of course, but never a Lady. Never, ever a Lady. She was lithe and pretty and he wanted her, but still. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said.
She swayed toward him. "We have unfinished business, you and I," she said. "You promised."
But that's before he knew. "I, um, but things are different now."
"What, because I'm not a nobody? Because you're used to doing it with slaves?"
Why was this so hard? "No. Yes. Dammit, Lady, you've got me all confused."
"Diane."
"Dammit, Diane, all right, I admit it. I only sleep with slaves. It's so less fraught. And I have no idea how to treat you. Damn I wish girls came with instruction books."
Her giggle sounded downright happy. "Mine's pretty simple, Eric. It says 'available when freshly punished.' Or at least I think it does."
"You think?" The question ended in a squeak. Eric told himself to calm down.
She cast her eyes down, almost like a slave. "You'll be my first," she said.
He backed up abruptly until he bumped into his nightstand. "Oh no. Two taboos I've got, never sleep with Ladies, they might want too much, and never sleep with virgins, they might fall in love. And now what've I got? A virgin Lady. No no no no no."
Diane swayed nearer. "Come on," she coaxed. "You know you want to. And I'll be almost like a slave in private, except for a couple of things."
He was not immune from her nearness, her womanness. "Oh?"
"It ends when I have work to do," she said. "And I get jealous. Other than that, do with me as you will."
She melted into his arms. This was dangerous, but she was pretty, and he was horny, so prudence lost the argument. "I'm going to hurt you first," he whispered.
He felt her tremble. "Oh yes," she said. "Oh yes."
Eric found her sitting in the access closet, fiddling with the circuitry. It's what Mages do, of course, do things the auto diags cannot. Make actual changes, sharpen the intent. He touched her gently and Diane smiled up at him, an adoring look which brought out in him both tenderness and lust.
"Your defenses never got past baseline," she said. "They're much better, now. Good as it gets."
He touched her hair. So pretty. "Now if only you'd give us offensive weapons," he said.
She pouted up at him. "Why, because Wolf House wants to engage in conquest?"
"Good Gods, no," Eric said. "Merely have more weight in negotiations."
"So you can be a bully," Diane said. "Sorry, dear. The answer's 'no.' Everyone else would be wanting them too, and sooner or later some twit who isn't thinking straight would cause great grief."
"Come on," he teased, "I'll make it worth your while. Tie you and drive you mad with pain and pleasure."
Her smile revealed a dimple. "You'll do that anyway," she said. "And you know I can't let our thing interfere with my calling. Sorry."
On one level he hated to be told no, but on another he respected her, somehow glad that her new-found hedonism was her hobby, not her vocation. "Let me know when you're done here," he said. Planning made his pecker turgid.
"Just now," she said, standing and dusting off her dress. "I'll just snap this cover back in place, and then I'm done."
"So you're not working?"
"That's right."
"Which means you are at my disposal?" He pinned her arms behind her back, quite roughly. Her quick intake of breath inflamed him.
"Yes, My Lord," she said. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Why, cane you," Eric said, "and then ask again."
Her whimper brought out lust in him, but it was mixed with tenderness, so truly he'd not hurt her much beyond what she wanted.
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