Chapter 6

GENERAL KOZA

I knew the High Commander was going to test me this evening, and I had considered myself prepared for it. But as I feel Ava’s slight form trembling behind me in an all too real fear, I want to say damn it all.

Instead, I give the High Commander a grin and beckon Ava forward for his appraisal. She obediently steps in front of me, her eyes downcast. Deference and submission are brutally instilled in the pleasure slaves of the High Commander, habits that he ensures will never be broken.

Her manners and attitude are too earnest to be a seasoned slave sent to spy on me. Despite the cheek she gave me back in my quarters, which I personally found charming, I am relieved to see she is more careful among the present crowd.

I place a hand on the back of her neck. As I grip her possessively, the High Commander lets out an appreciative sound, scanning her from head to toe.

The slave dress leaves nothing to the imagination, and she is surely a sight to behold.

I couldn’t risk warning her about the act I must put on during this dinner.

I was as friendly with her as I dared back in my quarters. But on the High Commander’s ship, I know nothing is private. Warning her outright of the dangers at play was impossible, especially without knowing her loyalties first. But if she isn’t a spy, during this dinner I will likely erase any positive first impression of me she might have formed.

“Have you sampled her yet?” the High Commander asks. “A human’s cunt will squeeze you as tight as a ghroat trap.”

Ava stiffens under the palm of my hand where it lies against her neck. Another overly earnest reaction. I give her neck a gentle squeeze with my fingertips in what I hope feels like reassurance.

“Not yet, my lord. There wasn’t time before dinner, and I would hate to rush it,” I reply, working to sound anticipatory instead of disgusted.

“I quite understand, General,” the High Commander titters. He motions me to make my way to the banquet table. I drop my hand from Ava’s neck and turn to take my seat, and she follows close behind me as the other guests and I surround it.

The High Commander leans toward me, speaking in a low voice, “I look forward to hearing all about it, Koza.”

He winks as we stop at my place at the enormous table before he splits off to circle the room to reach his own chair across from mine. I grind my teeth.

What may seem like nothing more than friendly banter to the others present is a message, only for my benefit, that his spies will be listening.

As I pull out my chair, my gaze drops to the cushion set to the side meant for my slave. Other slaves already sit at the feet of their masters on their own cushions, with their shoulders slumped, any spirit they once had gone.

Despite myself, I cannot stand the sight of Ava lowering herself to sit at my feet, picturing her slowly becoming as morose as the others.

I grab her by the waist and drag her onto my lap as I take my seat. Her legs straddle one of my thighs as I recline in the oversized chair. She is tense against me as I go against what I told her myself was expected of her.

“It is fine,” I whisper in her ear, placing a hand on her abdomen and pressing her back against my chest.

I both feel and hear her stomach rumble with hunger. I frown at the sound.

~None should go hungry, ally or enemy.~

The High Commander is still not at his chair across from me, delayed by pausing to speak with the dignitaries present. I risk one more whispered exchange with Ava.

“When did you last eat?” I breathe into her ear with concern.

“Yesterday morning,” she replies breathily, relaxing against my chest as she tilts her face toward mine to respond, matching my volume.

I let out a soft grumble, displeased with the information. She seems so light and frail perched on my lap, like she weighs no more than a youngling. I wonder how often she was deprived of food during her time in the market.

“It’s okay, I can wait,” she assures me nervously.

But the High Commander is close now, and I place my hand softly around her neck to silence her. The act appears aggressive, but I keep my touch light. I brush my other hand lightly over the swell of her chest as the High Commander takes his seat to sell the image of master and slave completely.

AVA

As his palm grazes my chest I hiss in response. Hours of my nipples being clamped have made them painfully sensitive.

I’m trying my best to go with the flow here, but Koza is confusing as fuck.

He seemed almost cool back in his room, but then once around everyone else he shoved me forward to show off as soon as he was asked.

The friendliness he extended to me before is completely erased, replaced by the stiff and frightening version of him I first saw.

The High Commander takes his seat across from us, eyeing us with obvious interest.

General Koza’s thumb traces circles on my left tit, in a way that seems almost unconscious. I squirm under the touch, my nipples overly sensitive. I swallow back a moan at my building arousal, and, despite the situation, I can’t help but press against his thigh.

His grasp tightens slightly, and I gasp as I feel his cock swell underneath me.

As the sound leaves my mouth, he drops his hand, reaching for the glass of wine in front of him. He takes a deep gulp, before repositioning me on his lap so his erection is no longer pressed against my core.

I resist the urge to whine in response, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. The first course of the dinner is served by a dozen waiters.

It looks like some sort of salad, with purple-and-orange vegetables. I lean awkwardly against Koza’s chest as everyone begins to eat, tuning out the conversation and trying to be unobtrusive.

He is so tall it is easy enough to curl myself up in his lap.

The second course is soon served, and it’s some sort of soup. The smell is acidic and unappealing, to the point I want to gag. I wrinkle my nose, pressing my face into the general’s chest to block out the scent.

He stiffens as I deeply inhale against his chest, adjusting me on his lap again.

I hear the High Commander laugh and tune back into the conversation.

“Eager, is she not?” he jokes to General Koza. “Bet you can’t wait to get her alone again.”

“Mmm,” Koza replies noncommittally, glancing up at the waiter that appears over his shoulder to remove his empty bowl.

I flinch at the comment, worrying about my actions being inappropriate and what that may mean for me later. I force myself to straighten my spine and stare blankly at the surface of the table.

Another server sets down the main course, and my stomach growls again as the smell of roasted meat and herbs hit me.

Koza’s arms cage me against his chest as he reaches around me to cut his meat, but I am surprised as he brings the fork to my lips to offer me the first bite.

I hesitate, remembering he told me not to eat, but surely it would be more taboo for a slave to refuse what is offered, right? It only takes me a few seconds to get over my reluctance and take the bite into my mouth.

It’s really, really good.

Weeks of only gelatin bars have gotten old, and I close my eyes, savoring the flavor. I am proud I am able to keep from moaning out loud at how good it tastes.

Koza takes the next bite, but continues to feed me every so often, and the High Commander purses his scaly lips in either amusement or disdain.

Koza waves away dessert, which is some strange, pulsating sphere. From my perch on his lap, I watch the High Commander pierce his own with a utensil that resembles a tiny garden hoe but look away with a shudder when a bright-green gel oozes out.

Finally, the dessert plates are swept away by the team of waiters, and I am relieved to be done with this incredibly awkward dinner.

But of course, there’s more. There’s always more.

The High Commander stands as waiters enter the room with trays of tiny crystal flutes filled with a light-pink liquid.

“To celebrate opening night of the Taquork auction, I have procured Gioji nectar for the enjoyment of the masters and their playthings. May you all have a wonderful night.”

With that he gives General Koza a purely sadistic look. I can read that easily enough on his scaly lizard face.

Koza lets out a barely audible growl, tightening an arm around my waist. It’s less that I hear it and more that I can feel it, since I’m pressed against him.

His anger tells me only one thing. Whatever is being given to us isn’t good.