Erotic Masterpiece, Volume 1: Laliah Unchained

Erotic Masterpiece,

Volume I: Laliah Unchained

by Anna Tableaux

Copyright © 2015 by Anna Tableaux

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1 The Chosen One

2 Of Pterodactyls

3 Siren

4 The Slave of the Bath

5 Carnal Knowledge

6 Of Anatomy and Cartography

7 Callisto

8 The Intended

9 The Precepts

10 What She Did Not Tell Broderick

11 Other Academies

12 The Study of Science

13 The Study of Poetry

14 What She Did Not Tell Lady Devere

15 The Study of Art

16 Faltz!

17 Laliah’s Lessons

18 Destiny

Chapter One:

The Chosen One

If Broderick had been more familiar with the coastline of Falesh, he would not have left his ship at anchor, and climbed to the ledges of the sharp peak to try to orient himself. If he had not climbed the ledges of the sharp peak, he would never have encountered Laliah, the Chosen One, and we would have no story to tell. But he was not familiar with the coastline, and he did climb the ledges to look around, so here we are.

This story takes place in the distant past or future on a planet very much like our own. To those who lived there, it was known as the Four Winds World. The winds blew outward from the hot middle of the Great Central Sea, making travel among the four continents that ringed it very difficult indeed. The people of each continent knew of the others, but were too preoccupied by local concerns—alliances, betrayals, celebrities, recipes, gossip—to think much about the others across the water. What knowledge they did have was shady and unreliable, coming mainly from outdated books and the whispers of Hierian traders. Hierians were a dangerous and secretive race, intent on driving hard bargains and not above cutting throats.

Prince Broderick had grand dreams to bring the Four Winds World out of its isolationism. He was leading an official delegation from the Kingdom of Callisto in the north to the rich lands of the Falesh in the east. He would distribute gifts. He would establish trade and good will. He would bring back an ambassador to Callisto. He was eager to begin doing all that—just as soon as he figured out where he was. He had traveled for weeks across dangerous seas with thirty men in his ship, the Fair Flagon. Finally they had sighted land. He just wasn’t sure which land. For now, his ship was parked in the cove below. He was pretty sure this was Falesh, but he did not know which was to proceed along the coast to reach Falesso, the great capital city. The coast presented a face of unbroken jungle, with no towns or villages, no sign of habitation at all. Hence the cove and this climb to the high ledge to have a look around.

Broderick initially passed very close to her without noticing. You might wonder how it is possible to miss a naked girl chained to a bare rock, her arms and legs extended so that she formed an X. In fact, the tawny hue of her skin was almost identical to the color of the smooth granite slab to which she was confined. Her hair could be mistaken for the dusty lichen upon the rock. She did not move or cry out when he climbed out onto the high ledge, and his attention was focused outward, searching for the way to Falesso. His charts were old, a product of the There-Be-Giants Chart Company, a notoriously unreliable concern.

The ledge was roomy, with a fine view of the coastline. The sharp peak ranged behind, blocking any view inland. With his spyglass he peered up and down the coast in both directions, looking for clues to the best passage. He stared into the small eyepiece, using his free hand to block the sun.

Broderick’s sight ranged up and down the coastline, with no hint of the great city visible in either direction. He was becoming frustrated. He’d expected to see Falesso from here. His view went farther to the right, and farther still, and became fuzzy. He kept turning to the right, and at last something swam into focus. Something besides jungles and mountains. A habitation of some kind, or perhaps a land form—Broderick had never seen the like. It was mound-shaped, and appeared very smooth. Its rounded sides rose uniformly to a small circular roof of dark crimson material, a little rougher than its smooth surroundings. A circular chimney topped the small roof. He squinted hard into the glass. He spotted another close behind, identical to the first, which meant it was likely of human construction. Were there more? Perhaps a village. He moved the glass farther right, and found himself staring into dark eyes.

He yelped, dropped the eyepiece, and snatched his sword from its scabbard. Then he saw the naked girl, and saw that she was tied up. He drank in her body—the long legs, the breasts he had mistaken for buildings, penumbra of hair wreathing her head. But only for a second. She was watching him. She saw him seeing her, and she had not said a word. To Broderick, a seasoned warrior, this silence came across as a warning. Her captors must be near-by. He was alone, his men an hour away. He tore his eyes from the riveting gaze of the girl to the mass of broken stone and boulders around her, and the edges of the rough scrub foliage from which these escarpments protruded. He was alert for any movement, any glint of metal, any crunch of gravel. He turned all the way around, taking the measure of every patch of moss, every pebble, his sword at the ready.

His gaze returned to her. In a low voice he said, Are they close by? Point with your eyes which direction.

You will have to speak up.

Her voice was shockingly normal for a naked girl chained to a rock. When he didn’t answer immediately, she spoke again, with a trace of impatience. Hey? Sword-carrier? Is that a Northreach accent, or do you have a learning impairment?

Learning impairment? Broderick stalked towards her. He controlled himself; it could still be a trap. He glanced around, but could see no danger, no lurkers with knives among the rocks. He looked back at her, staring brazenly at him. The insolence of this girl, from her place so exposed and vulnerable, twitched powerful urges inside him. She was helpless, his to take. And a fine prize she would be.

Broderick relaxed a little. She was a mouse, her tail caught in a trap, baring her tiny teeth to the cat. Like the playful and cruel tom, he would toy with her first, before using her as nature dictates. He advanced upon her, planted the point of his sword in the sand between her outstretched heels, and rested his hands on it. A small smile creased his lips. He said, with false gallantry, It appears that I might be of some service, Madame.

I am no madam, sir, she responded haughtily. I am pure maid, and set to die as maid, for that is my destiny as the Chosen One. You may not interfere with the sacred rites of the Falesh people.

I am in a position, he said lightly, to interfere with you in any way I that desire.

"..ony way dat I desoyer."

Broderick tilted his head to one side. Mocking his accent? From where she lay, chained naked to a rock? In any other circumstance, such an insult would have been answered with cold steel. But here and now, it inflamed him in a different way. Also it made him aware of her accent, lilting and melodious, like the music of the stringed gourd. He wanted to hear her speak again.

But first, he simply stared at her, frankly, appraisingly. Her body was perfectly formed, proportionate, athletic. She could swim five miles or carry five skins of water, he was sure of that. In the muscles of her thighs, and with her wide shoulders, she reminded him of the strongest of the boyish warriors who rode with him to battle. But her hands were not calloused, and the image of strength was countered by a soft luminescence of the skin, especially upon her full and firm breasts that he had seen from very close up though the glass. Broderick was no stranger to the company of unclothed women, but he had never seen skin of this luster. It seemed almost translucent, as if he could see into its soft web of flesh and capillary. This aspect of skin made her seem even more naked, if that was possible. As did something else he had never seen.

You have no tufts, he said.

Tufts, sir?

No hair. Here, he pointed to his own body, or here.

With forced patience, as if instructing the slow-witted, she said, I was bathed by my handmaidens for three days. Bathed and powdered and shaved. I must be beautiful. I am the Chosen One.

Chosen for death?

Yes.

There was a pause. She stared at him, and seemed to decide something. But as long as you are here, interfering, I would welcome a drink from your flask. It is warm in the sun, and I have a thirst.

I will gladly relieve your thirst, he said. But you must satisfy my curiosity about one thing.

You are an incurious man, she said, to have curiosity about only one thing.

He picked up the fallen spyglass and pocketed it. The sword he left upright and rigid between her legs, gleaming in the sun. He came around beside her, sitting down cross-legged facing her head. How comes it that a pure maid, as you call yourself, shows no trace of maiden modesty, even with legs forcibly spread, your most private pink skin open to the sky, with not even its native hair to shield it from my eyes—or the eyes of anyone? Are girls among the Falesh brought up to walk naked among the men?

The girls of the Falesh are brought up not to cower before men, she said. And they wear clothes—modest or alluring according to the occasion. What you have come upon, as even you are capable of discerning, is not a regular occurrence. It happens only once each score of years.

And only to, as you call yourself, the Chosen One. Tell me, for what sins have you earned this barbaric punishment?

You said one question. You promised water.

Ah, yes. Broderick took up the flask from his belt, and uncorked it. As he moved it toward her lips, watching her eyes follow it hungrily, he was nearly overcome with desire. He wanted to toss aside the skin, rip off his leather jerkin and leggings, be as naked to the sky as she was while he used her. But still he paused, for he knew it was in large part her spirit, her audacity, that so inflamed him. A broken toy would no longer be fun. The cat wanted to play longer with his mouse. He put the skin to her lips, pouring a little at a time, carefully, so she did not choke. Her lips surrounding its opening made his heart beat faster. When she nodded for him to stop, he dribbled some of the water on her neck, watched as it made its small courses around her neck and past her shoulder. He moved it a little farther down, and the splash off her breast brought her nipple to hardness. The awareness that she was watching too, watching him watch, with her unsmiling, unpanicked gaze, gave him the stirrings of an erection. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay master of his desires. Like nothing he had ever wanted in his life, he had to have her.

When he touched the nipple with the tip of his finger she lay her head back, and closed her eyes. She was submitting to the inevitable. And that, too, made him want her. But a broken toy would no longer be fun. She seemed too precious to use up so quickly.

You will not die today, he said, coming to the decision suddenly. Not only will you live, but live to see the gardens and boulevards of Callisto, the greatest of all the nations. Whatever you have done to come to this sorry end, your slate is clean. I will free you and you will come with me.

Her eyes opened during his speech, though her head did not move. She was staring straight up, into the blue sky. She said, You will free me to be your slave.

No, I mean…well, perhaps a consort, but, well… Annoyance flared in him. He slapped her face. She said nothing. He got to his feet and spoke down at her, with the sun behind him. I am offering you escape, protection. You are in no position to negotiate.

She squinted up at him. Oh, but I am, she said. You see, I do not fear death upon this rock. It is my destiny. I am the Chosen One.

Her cheek glowed red where he had slapped it. He felt remorse, and was disgusted with himself for feeling it. He should do it, use her, get it over with, go back and regale his men with the tale of his extraordinary find, over strong Callistrian drink. Yes, he would tell them how he toyed with her, and then how he first used her while the bonds still held her…and how he then…and how he next…

And they would never believe him. Or if they believed him he would never be able to convey one-tenth of her comeliness. An insolent naked girl, debating him over his offered mercies! It was all too absurd. No, he would just have to drag her back to the camp, let each man have a turn with her, or several at once—that would stop her rude mouth for once and ever. But even as these thoughts flashed through his mind he knew them to be false. The instinct of the protector was strong in him, and if any creature ever needed protecting, it was she.

Look, he said reasonably. There’s no destiny but the one we make for ourselves. Something brought me here to find you, and free you before you died of exposure or became victim to some wild beast or man.

Pterodactyls.

What?

I will be torn apart and eaten by pterodactyls. And it is for no crime or sin, sir. Rather, it is a great honor, the highest honor one can win. Ever since I was chosen, at age eighteen, I have been pampered and loved and honored, the envy of every Falesh girl. For four years I have had the choicest foods, the most beautiful clothing, the most learned tutors, the truest of friends. I have lived the best life the Falesh can live, which at its meanest is better than that of any other people on the Four Winds World.

So you can be eaten by pterodactyls when at twenty-two? A truly wonderful people.

We are, sir. But everything comes at a price. As you might know from your travels, it is invariable that very good things come at very high prices. Some would say this is a very high price. Her bare shoulders shrugged. I believe it is not so high.

You’ve been brainwashed.

Brain washed? We do not have this term in Falesh, but I take your meaning, I think. No, I don’t believe my brain has been washed. We have rituals. Every twenty years the choicest virgin of between twenty and twenty-four years must be given up as offering, or the pterodactyls will raid and ravage Falesso, killing innocents and creating mayhem.

Broderick had almost forgotten he was talking to a bound, naked girl, so rapt was his attention. As his gaze lingered on the exquisite curve or her collar bone, he mused, almost to himself, Twenty-two years old.

Yes.

And still a virgin.

We’ve been over this, sir.

How is did you end up the one? Lottery? Graduation prize?

Again she gave him that look, the one that branded him a fool. It is that I am the most beautiful, of course. Her look did not waver, and there was no irony. It was simply the truth. A truth that accounted for her unashamed, even regal bearing. Modesty is borne of an awareness of imperfection. Even naked and chained, she had no such awareness. And as Broderick drank in again her luminous skin, he had none either.

So it is agreed, you will come with me, he said, and not as slave. We in Callisto know pleasing employments, and there I will make a new life for you. Did I mention I’m a prince?

Of course you are. For the first time, she seemed to soften a little. You are not unhandsome, she said quietly. And you speak mostly with a civil tongue. She sighed momentarily, but her voice was resolute. I cannot neglect my oath. It would be a terrible sin to abandon my people to pterodactyls.

I will protect Falesso! Broderick exclaimed, leaping to his feet. I will take your place, I will wait for them, and when they swoop in, they will meet my cold steel.

But the creatures will see you are no maiden, sir.

Pterodactyls have notoriously poor vision. They must get close to their prey. They are fierce, but I have slayed many, and I will do so again, for you. He took up his sword and sliced the air, hoping she would not see he was making it up. He knew nothing of pterodactyls. But at that moment he would have said anything to get her to go willingly. I’ll bring you to my ship, and then come back to deal with the fiends. I will return victorious, and your people will be saved, and we will all feast in Falesso City. Which way is it from here, by the way?

But the sacred offering...

The point is not in the offering, he said with conviction, "but in the results. I will slay the pterodactyls, and your people will celebrate their freedom from this terrible tribute. The Falesh will be safe, and yet you