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				<a id="mw-mf-last-modified" data-timestamp="1494171823" href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php/Special:History/A_Slave%3F" data-user-name="HotRobotSlave" data-user-gender="unknown" class="top-bar truncated-text">Last modified on 7 May 2017, at 15:43</a>		<script>
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			<h1 id="section_0">A Slave?</h1><ul id="page-actions" class="hlist"><li id="ca-edit" class="icon icon-32px icon-edit" title="Edit the lead section of this page."></li><li id="ca-talk" class="hidden icon icon-32px icon-talk"><a href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php?title=Talk:A_Slave%3F&amp;action=edit&amp;redlink=1" title="Discussion about the content page [t]" accesskey="t">Discussion</a></li><li id="ca-watch" class="watch-this-article icon icon-32px"><a href="http://mulpwiki.org/index.php?title=Special:UserLogin&amp;returnto=A+Slave%3F" title="Add this page to your watchlist [w]" accesskey="w"></a></li></ul>		</div>
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This page was created by a <a href="./User:HotRobotSlave" title="User:HotRobotSlave">bot</a> and has not undergone revision yet.
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<td><b>Writefag</b>
</td>
<td> brandnewwritefag
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<td><b>Pastebin link</b>:
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<td><a rel="nofollow" class="external free" href="http://pastebin.com/0yrLUv57">http://pastebin.com/0yrLUv57</a>
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<td><b>Pastebin creation</b>
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<td>Sunday 8th of January 2017 09:01:23 PM CDT
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<td><b>Last Pastebin update</b>
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<td>Sunday 8th of January 2017 09:01:23 PM CDT
</td></tr></table>

</div><h3><span class="mw-headline" id="A_Slave.3F">A Slave?</span><a href="A_Slave?#/editor/1" title="Edit section: A Slave?" data-section="1" class="edit-page icon icon-32px icon-edit enabled">Edit</a></h3><div>
<div dir="ltr" class="mw-geshi mw-code mw-content-ltr"><div class="gettext source-gettext">&#160;<br />Slave?<br /><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your hands gently rest on the ornate redwood box, a soft sigh escaping your lips</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;3 weeks</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;it took 3 weeks to repair your mistresses' music box</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She would have done it, but the gryphon empress had her working overtime</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;So much overtime that getting some foreign dignitaries a proper gift had totally slipped her mind</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;so it was up to you and your 'soft, blunt claws' to fix this for her</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;you run your thumb into some of the grooves, making sure the soft gold wiring stays inlaid</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's just some bullshit flower imagery, but. You're proud of it</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;of all the things you've done for your owner, you're most proud of this</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The outside and inside have been sanded smooth, and the curved top has been stained and restored as well</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The platform the music gears sit on has been oiled and finished, and all you need to do now is put the delicate machinery together and let it set</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's going to be surprisingly light when finished - so you'll have to be careful hauling it around</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You lean back a bit on the workbench, rolling your shoulders</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;whelp. Might as we-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*ding*</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;That would be the door</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You quickly wipe your hands down and stand, adjusting your simple loincloth to cover - but hint - at what you've got, and prepare to greet your mistress</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;..vestock are all cared for as well, my lady. Cupboards have been restocked as well, per your orders.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You make it to the main room just as your mistress and her other slave-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Sorry, 'indentured servant'</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;-come in from the weather.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah... now isn't this a sight for tired eyes?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Cairn Eagleeye, Quartermistress to Her Majesty's Armies, Dutchess of the 3 Peaks and your lawful owner, smiles to herself as she rounds the corner and sees you once more</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You get on your knees, a soft smile on your lips as well</span><br />&quot;I am pleased that I so refresh my mistress. Was your trip well?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;As she pads over to you you crane your neck to the side, exposing it</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Bah. A bunch of old hens squawking after impossible timetables. It's enough to make you want to molt-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She rears up slightly, her beak nipping your neck - not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point - and you press into her breast</span><br />&quot;I would hope not, mistress. I would miss your plumage dearly~&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;She chuckles, whispering into your ear &quot;Oh, don't I know it~&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;After a few moments of resting on you she hops off, flapping her wings once. &quot;Hm. Talia?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Talia Bluntbeak bows her head slightly. &quot;Yes, My Lady?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Inform the chef that I'll be taking my dinner in my room. I expect my favourite to be fed and ready by the time I finish cleaning up. Say... in 30 minutes?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Talia bows again. &quot;As you will it, My Lady.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Cairn gives you a familiar hungry look. &quot;As it should be...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You feel her drag her tail across your side as she walks past you, but you don't move until she has left the room</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Once the back door has shut to her study, both of you drop the facade</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;to a point</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Tch. You heard her, pleasure slave. Go to the kitchen, get you some food - though, we both know what you'll be eating later tonight-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Why Talia, are you jealous?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You smirk as you stand up, the gryphoness growling softly. &quot;Watch it, fool. We may both be servants-&quot;</span><br />&quot;If calling it that helps you sleep at ni-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;At least I keep my name, whore! At least I'll have a future - what hope do you have, her being your third owner? As soon as your dick stops working you'll be driven into the snow-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yeah yeah heard it all before. Shouldn't you be doing what Mistress told you to do?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;She narrows her eyes at you. &quot;Get. Before I do something I'll regret.&quot;</span><br />&quot;You will regret it - if I come to her with any scars she didn't create, you'll get clipped.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her beak snaps shut, and you smile as you make your way over to the warm kitchen</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Being the favourite has it's perks</span><br /><br />...<br />&quot;Yes ma'am.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;And keep the tray level - mind the dish, it's hot.&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yes ma'am.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;The cook looks you up and down, then sighs. &quot;Hhmph. Honestly, it'd do wonders for morale if she'd share you with the rest of us...Great Roc knows having you wear only that is tease enough.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You keep your face neutral, but sigh internally</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Every few months this gets brought up, and every few months your mistress has to re-establish the pecking order and flaunt you around again</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;At least since it's colder this season you get a few more strips of clothing to keep you warm, but</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Well. You hang around the fireplaces very often, let's just say.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Well? Off with you!&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yes ma'am.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;You spin on your heel and leave, serving-tray held within your capable grip</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Strong wine, honeyed mead, a leg of ham - some fried root vegetables that look like croquettes</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Chefy went all out on this one</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Though, she should watch herself - Cairn fired the last one after 4 years because she tried to taste the goods, as it were</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;6 months is far too soon to be asking something so improper...</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You muse idly as you walk through her study, placing the tray on her map table</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Closing the doors behind you, you prepare yourself - checking to make sure all clasps are easily unfastened, that you're sufficiently oiled and scented..</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Oh!</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Smiling, you reach for a little-known secret drawer on the map table, pulling out a small, crystal-red vial</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You uncork and add a few drops to the bottle of port, before recorking and putting it away</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;That always made her very lively, to say the least</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Speaking of, no need to turn her off early in the night</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You pop open a small box on the tray, rummaging around for a good, strong mint</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Coated in white powder, your fingers find their prize</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Ah. This light-blue one should do</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You pop it in your mouth and start sucking on it</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Mmmmm. Spearmint, with a hint of something exotic</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Tray in hands, you stand infront of her bedchamber doors and clear your throat loudly</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;In.&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;With a small bow you use the weight of the tray to push a handle down, opening the door to Cairn's bedroom</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And it's a very lavish one at that</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Thick, furred skins carpet the floor</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A roaring fireplace and thick tapestries keep the entire room at a comfortable, cozy temperature</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A large, personal desk stacked high with missives, trinkets and things you could only imagine</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;For as a slave, it's not your place to know</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And of course, in the middle of it is her own personal nest</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;At first glance it looks like one of those master bedroom suites, with ornate posts on all four corners of the bed</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But, instead of a mattress it's layers and layers of blankets and pillows and furs</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Super comfy and surprisingly soft</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Intimate, really</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You'd almost say it's 'yours' but, yanno</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;No property allowed to you</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But you spend so much time here that you've basically been allowed to convert your own quarters into a workshop at your mistresses' discretion</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;So it's basically the same thing</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Aaah, now there's what I need. Come, come.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Stretching, your owner hops off of her stool, padding over to you</span><br />&quot;Mistress, would you li-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah. No, no talking, not now. Place the tray at the edge of the bed, I'll get to it soon...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You nod softly, adding a little sway in your step as you position her dinner</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;3... 2... 1-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;With a screech you feel your owner pounce onto you and you roll into the bed</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Dominant, in a word, is how gryphonesses are both in and out of the bedroom</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her claws dig into your shoulders - not enough to draw blood, but enough for some discomfort</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;MMrrf, I can see how those vultures look at you - they want you, don't they? All day long, you tease them~&quot;</span><br />&quot;I can't help it, Mistress - when you're away it's hard to control myself-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I see that, boy.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She grins as her claws flick open your clasps, removing the last bit of modesty you were allowed</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Years of doing this has left it's mark - you're already at half mast</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Good, good - such a good slave you are~&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her beak nips at your neck and shoulders as you run your fingers through her down, massaging softly</span><br />&quot;I'm so happy that I continue to please you, mistress~&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Mm, and you will for a long, long time...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Grinning, she positions herself over you, pressing her asshole right over the head of your dick</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This was something new you learned when you were sold here from the Minotaur lands-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your dick was way too big for their little cunts</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And, yanno. There is a risk of pregnancy - who would want to have kits from a slave?! - so, anal it was</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She impales herself suddenly and forcefully onto you, causing you to gasp</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oooh.... there we go... tend to me, my faithful fuckslut~&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You grip her hips and start rolling into her flank</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Like a good slave, you do as you're told</span><br />. . . . . . .<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Nnnnh~&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A, B, C-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah! Yesss...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;So it's C today, huh?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;C</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;C</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;C</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;S-slow down, slave. Let me enjoy my meal as well!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You hum softly, your tongue resting on her clit</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You can't see too well - what with her sitting on your face - but you can feel her reach over to the tray</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You honestly don't blame her</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;I mean. Steak-and-a-blowjob every night would never get tiring, if you were in her position</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Aaah... that's the stuff. Every time I come home, the welcome is better and better~&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You hear the sound of a pulled cork, and then the greedy drinking from a bottle</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Mwah! Aah. Continue, my favourite-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You feel her tense up as you C again</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Then a low growl</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Huh, that's not ri-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;WHATEVER IT IS BETTER BE IMPORTANT!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Oh. Someone must've knocked</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;-...---. ...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Damn fuzzy legs</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You can't hear a fuckin-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;THEN I CAN FLY BACK TOMORROW! BY THE FROZEN PEAKS, SHUT THE DOOR AND GET OUT!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;There's the sound of an impact</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A few tense moments pass in silence and stillness</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Tenatively, you slip your tongue into her, giving your mistress a long, deep lick</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah...... DAMNIT ALL!&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;With a growl your owner stands up, flopping onto her side. &quot;Of all the most miserable timing...I should have Talia's wings clipped.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Idly she spears one of the croquettes with a claw, slicing it open</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You see the wine's half-gone, and the mead's nowhere to be seen</span><br />&quot;Mistress? How may I please you?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;She glances down to you, her face hard for a moment before it softens</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;You... shouldn't be troubled over matters above your station, slave.&quot;</span><br />&quot;I'm sorry, my Mistress. But when you are troubled, I am troubled.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Hm. How fun - the only care I have is the one I've bought. Turns out the Praetor wants me back at the capital to run some more numbers - apparently running supplies to the front in a month isn't good enough for her. Five Hundred Miles to cross with wagon, supplies and shot, and I'm supposed to make a miracle happen.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You kiss her lower abdomen softly, your fingers tracing nonsensical patterns in her fur</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Mmm...You are a jewel. Preen me - that way I can just leave tomorrow and be done with it.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You nod and shift your position, kneeling behind her</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She extends a wing, and wordlessly you run your fingers through it, pulling out a few loose feathers, straightening out others</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's slow, quiet work</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You continue it long after she's finished her dinner</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Long after she's fallen asleep</span><br /><br />* * *<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I'm just saying-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You place your hands on your hips, eyebrow quirked</span><br />&quot;And *I'm* just saying - I don't care that Mistress has been gone for <span class="nu0">3</span> days with no word, you're not allowed to touch the goods!&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;The chef chirps, ruffling her feathers. &quot;Boy, it's no big deal - just a quick jaunt in the cellar, we'll both have fun and you can get cleaned up within the hour-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You sigh</span><br />&quot;No means no. And if you keep this up - or heavens help you, try to force the issue - I'll call the guard.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;The gryphonness laughs. &quot;As if the guard will come here, to Cairn's private retreat, at the word of a fuck-slav-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*BANG*</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The door to your little mountain home isn't so much as kicked open as it is knocked so hard off it's hinges it flies into the greeting room</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And then</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Guards</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Guards fucking EVERYWHERE</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You can tell by the seal on their crests that they're imperial, but more than that, they're elite</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Well this is new</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But rolling with the punches you give the chef a *look*, and roll your hand towards the invaders</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her beak opens and closes wordlessly</span><br />&quot;I rest my case.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Everyone in this room NOW. You- Who are you!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A night-black gryphoness walks towards you, and you notice by her non-standard armor that she must be of some importance</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You bow softly</span><br />&quot;I am Mistress Cairn Eagleeye's bedslave and companion. The estate, while she is away, is under the care of Talia Bluntbeak. I have not bothered to learn the chef's name, as she is most likely not going to be employed by my Mistress for much longer.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Wh-WHY YOU LIMP-DICK-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;ENOUGH.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The Gryphonness crows, and everyone falls silent</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I have a warrant to search this house high and low, and I plan on it. All of her property is hereby siezed by her clan and the state until this investigation is over.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You bow again</span><br />&quot;With respect, then to whom am I speaking with?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Viktoria Stormeagle, of the same eagle clan you serve.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Without missing a beat, you kneel to present yourself to your new owner</span><br />&quot;I live to serve.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Up. I have no time to waste talking with a bedslave. Where are the keys?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You look at the chef, who is trying her best to be the most innocent, befuddling staffmember possible</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Whelp. Guess it's up to you</span><br />&quot;I... with apolgies, My Lady - Talia Bluntbeak would have all keys to-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Damn. She's already in irons, so that's no good. Go, go go go-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Viktoria shoos away some of her guards to start their search, and they do</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Somewhat aggressively</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;You. Bedslave - you know where the extras are kept?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Now why woul-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Please. Do not try me today. You think this is my first skirmish? Where are the extras.&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You pause for a moment, looking this new gryphon in the eyes</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She grins</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;A fighting spirit in this one! Cairn was right... you are a jewel. Come.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Viktoria walks away from her dramatic entrance, close to the doors of your mistresses' study.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Kneel.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You do so, presenting yourself once more</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;No need to start off on the wrong foot, as it were</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You feel her press against you, and then she whispers softly into your ear</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Cairn Eagleeye is dead by assassination. Poison.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You go stiff for a moment as the news registers</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Tell no one. Bluntbeak is being held, for she had means and motive. Not the first time an indebted tried to cut her debt short. I am a representative of the inquisition; I am of the eagle clan; as such, I will be your caretaker until her property is sorted out and our questions are answered. Nod if you understand.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You nod, softly</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Such loyalty in a slave is admirable - I respect that. Now, rise and open her doors to me; I'd rather not have to break more of them down.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Wordlessly she backs off of you and you rise - and continue, standing on your toes</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The inquisitor tilts her head to the side as your fingers grip the top frame of the door - and with a soft crackling noise, pull away just the top</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A small silver key rests in a groove - which you retrieve</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah... she always was one for riddles and games. Heh.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You quickly unlock the study door, opening it for your new mistress</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Good. Guards - the inner chambers.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her voice didn't rise at all, yet no fewer than 20 guards poured in between you, starting to pull books off shelves, roll up the map on the table... clean everything out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Huh</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;We're... also looking for any potential causes of death. Anything that could lead us to the murder weapon.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You see them sweep everything into great bags - haphazardly, you might add - this looks more like a smash and grab than a proper murder investigation</span><br />&quot;I...see.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Be mindful you don't see too much. Is her room open?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You nod</span><br /><br />&quot;Though, be careful - the ambassador's gift is on her desk. It should be the only thing on it.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Inquisitor Viktoria grunts. &quot;Right, we better get that shipped too...though...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She eyes you, and you advert your gaze</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This wasn't hungry, like you were used to - though it was still predatory</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This was the look of someone searching for flaws</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;... you know something.&quot;</span><br />&quot;I... would be remiss if I spoke so freely, Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Victoria chirps softly. &quot;Mistress already? Heh... better not let that get to my head. Alright. Everyone, out.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Again, she didn't raise her voice</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But again, as one, her soldiers filed out of the study, shutting the door behind them</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;This... this bird had power.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;So? Show me.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You bend over the map table slightly, your fingers finding that familiar latch, pulling on a hidden drawer</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I should've known... yet another ri-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her musing dies in her throat as you pull out the red, crystal vial, placing it on the table</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She snatches it immediately, uncorking it</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;a claw dips in and then pulls out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*sniff*</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;...no, surely not. Skooma?&quot;</span><br />&quot;I-I was not told what it was, just that Mistress - sorry, former Mistress would enjoy a few drops in her wine with my company.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Viktoria inhales deeply, then sighs. &quot;...so this may not be a murder afterall...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You know better to ask questions, and your new owner apparently knows better than to divulge anything else</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;...how do you feel about the Minotauren?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Well that's abrupt</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;...and an odd line of questioning</span><br />&quot;They took good enough care of me when I was theirs, until I was sold to Ironclaw eight years ago.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Yes, yes... I remember. She died as a hero on the Eastern front a few years... after. How did Cairn get ahold of you?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You shrug</span><br />&quot;Such things are beyond me, Mistress. My first Mistress died, I went through the proper mourning, then I was transferred over to my former Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Silence drags out for a few moments</span><br /><br />&quot;Should... should I enter mourning again, Mistress? Or would it be proper not to, as I am already your property?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;More silence</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Viktoria Stormeagle, High Inquisitor of Her Majesty, born of the Eagle Clan and house, stands silent</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Swirling a vial of illicit drugs in her claws</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;...</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;...no. I will give you your final order.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Final?</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I am taking you to the capital with me and my guards. You will dress as... enticingly as you can. As you have no particular fear of the Minotauren, you will be given to them as a gift - along with Cairn's initial present. If you speak of how she died - of abusing this vial - we will find out and we will kill you. I'll not have our name dragged through the mud...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You bow softly</span><br />&quot;As my Mistress commands.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;...take care not to be sold to a gryphoness again. I don't ever want to see you in our lands.&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yes, Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Good. Now, open her bedchamber... there's no reason why I can't enjoy my new property for a few moments.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And, as you have since you were sold</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You do as you're told</span><br />* * *<br /><span class="co4">&gt;...</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You stare out across Griffonstone, the sunrise painting beautiful hues of blue, orange and yellow across the sky</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The carts and wagons setup just down the steps from you are cast in beauitful, glittering colors</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You gotta admit - flying creatures always seem to pick places where the view is amazing</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's breathtaking, really</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;--sing tensions between our two great empires.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;A deep, feminine voice rouses you from your stupor, and you stand up tall</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;If you remember right... Tauren women like to feel the muscles on their men, so...</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You place your arms behind your back, gripping each forearm in your hands, baring your chest</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You strain against your loose fabric in new ways - hopefully, enticing ones - as the main door opens</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Yes. And to further cement our friendship, please accept these gifts from our noblehens - Some rare fabrics, a music-chest, an-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oooh...I know what manner of gift this is...&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You turn to look at the speakers - one, a gryphon you've never seen before but whose dressed like an aide de camp, and then a very very large Minotaur female</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You turn slightly, accentuating your shoulders, chest and arms</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;This pleasureslave is well-trained, though we gryphons have no more, ah, desire for him. We hope he may warm your beds as he did our nests, Senator Brunhilda of Labarynthia.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;That's the only introduction you're going to get - slaves don't get to ask questions, after all</span><br />&quot;I-it pleases me to know my new Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oh...these gifts please me more than you know, Quickfeather.&quot; The tauress grins that familiar predatory grin and rests one of her hands on your chest</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She squeezes - firmly, tracing your muscles. &quot;More than you know... the road is long and hard, and he will be a comfort.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda, your new owner, tilts her head - and her entourage takes the inanimate gifts</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But by her wandering hands, you can tell she wants to take you personally</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;My regards to your Empress, and your Roost of Ladies.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda pulls you into the crook of her arm, her hand reaching down and gripping your butt firmly</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You press into her, making eye contact -</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;That's right, right?! Tauren like to see your eyes when you-</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She grins and walks you down the steps</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Aah, good. You remembered right...</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Where does the slave go?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;In my cart with me, Greta. For obvious reasons.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The tauresses all share a laugh, and you bow your head slightly</span><br />&quot;It will always be my pleasure, Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Good. Up you go.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;With two handfulls of your ass your new owner lifts you up - bodily lifts you up - into the arms of one of the drivers, Greta, who then sets you down into the wagon.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It shifts precariously to the side, but soon your new owner gets into the cart with you, that same grin on her face.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Until we better know your temperament, we will put you in irons. Understand?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Yes, my Mistress.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;And so you were.</span><br /><br />* * *<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;All papers are in order - LIFT THE GATE!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The wagon rocks from side to side as the tauresses up front start pulling it forward, the wheels protesting sligtly from the rivets cut into the path</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Your caravan - and your new owners - officially take you out from gryphon lands</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The soft clinking of your chains is the only sound for the next few minutes</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;... we've passed beyond their scout's sight.&quot; Helga - you think? - remarks. &quot;And I *still* have no idea why you dragged me, an intel officer, alo-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Brunhilda I swear to all your fucking gods if you don't take these irons off me right now, I'll kill you with 'em.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;There is silence in the cart</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Wh- SLAVE HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MI-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;SILENCE. You will NOT address your superior in that tone!&quot; Brunhilda barks</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The cart rocks again - you can tell by the staccato of hooves-on-cobblestone, the haulers themselves were surprised by what just happened</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;S-Superior?!&quot; The driver - Greta, was it? - turns around, eyes wild. &quot;What in the name of Tartarus-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Enough. Anonymous, I do apologize-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Mmmmm&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Seriously - I didn't like abusing you any more th-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Say my name again.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Wh?&quot; Brunhilda stutters. &quot;Uh... Anonymous.&quot;</span><br />&quot;Again.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Anonymous.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The cart rocks back and forth</span><br />&quot;... Eight years since I heard someone else say that name, not unhurried or in whispers.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Wordlessly, Brunhilda reaches into her bosom, pulling out an iron key. She leans forward and unchains your neck - then your hands, placing the key in them, allowing you to finish the job yourself.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ok, look - I'm now really, REALLY confused. Why am I here, who is this slave bull, what's going on? My job is to break codes and decipher riddles, not be in them.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Anonymous. What did you get?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You lean back against the fabric of the wagon</span><br />&quot;Enough to make me spymaster.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda laughs. &quot;That old cow will never die - but, you're guaranteed a promotion, at least!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You smirk</span><br />&quot;Nah. Go for the brass ring and all that-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;WHAT IS GOING OOOOOOOOONNNNNNN~~~&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The two of you turn to look at the back of the wagon, where Helga wiggles back and forth on her seat, whining loudly</span><br />&quot;... This is your best codebreaker?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda shrugs. &quot;Taurus works in mysterious ways. She has a gift for that... if nothing else.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Helga's ears perk up. &quot;Wait, codebrea-wait. WAIT.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her eyes go wide as she points at you accusingly</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;THIS IS OUR ANONYMOUS SOURCE?! YOU USED HIS NAME AS HIS CODE NAME? THAT IS THE MOST RECKLESS, INSANE THING-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda shrugs. &quot;It worked. Why fix what ain't broken-&quot;</span><br />&quot;She really isn't clever-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;I'm not used to being out in the field! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The two of you Mmm softly.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Well fine, I'll spill the milk out of the pail. You're sitting next to Anonymous, one of the best spies our republic has. I'm his handler-&quot;</span><br />&quot;YEAH you are-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Her ears go flat. &quot;-and I'm sorry about that, sir.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Sir?&quot; Helga chirps</span><br />&quot;Mmm, I'm curious too. I was just a lieutenant when I left-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Yes. You've been so effective you've been promoted... a few times, in absentia. You've got a Captainship, a pension, and any villa you'd like amongst the senate's lands.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You smirk</span><br />&quot;Keeping me close now, aren't we?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda sighs. &quot;Nobody's gone that deep or that long under cover, Anonymous. Unanimously, the senate's voted to retire you, if you so desire. Give you a more administrative position, if you still want to serve.&quot;</span><br />&quot;But the spymaster posi-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;But is it so wrong to finally settle down? Do work in your own land for once?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You sigh softly</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The cart rocks again, then you hear the driver loudly hail someone</span><br />&quot;Wha-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Ah. That would be the legion I had come to escort us. Last thing we need is anything to go wrong-&quot;</span><br />&quot;That's for the better, especially with what I've just got.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Yes! Tell me - what do you have? I don't know what else we could give you, but depending on what it is...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You spread your legs, leaning down to pull out the music box from under you</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Shit, this is heavy</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And this is a really awkward position</span><br /><br />&quot;... a little help?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oh! Right, sorry sorry sorry-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Helga scoots forward, tugging the box out from beneath your legs</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oof. I'm guessing all this weight isn't just wood and gears, huh?&quot;</span><br />&quot;Of course. Pop it open for me real quick<br /><span class="co4">&gt;The Tauress' fingers find the latch and flip it open quick enough, and a sweet melody begins to play</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;It's slowly drowned out by the sound of marching hooves joining your little caravan</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;But you've got something else in mind</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Taking no heed, you pinch the spinning gears in your fingers and twist - first one way, then another - and then in a third way that it *shouldn't* move</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*click*</span><br />&quot;Have at it.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Helga greedily spins the box around to face her and tugs at the music player itself, the platform it rests on coming free</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Is... wait...&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She starts rummaging through the papers</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Troop movement schedules, foundry output reports, personnel records - SUPPLY TIMETABLES AND DEPOTS - AND CACHE LOCATIONS~</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Helga, probably a somewhat decorated warror in service to the republic, lets out a squeal</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;IS THAT A GRYPHON CYPHER ROD?!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Jaw open with glee, Helga gingerly lifts up a cylindrical rod of gears no longer than your forearm</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;MY TITS ARE SO HARD RIGHT NOW.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You laugh</span><br />&quot;Careful, lass - I might think you've fallen for me!&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda whistles softly. &quot;Well I'll be flatchested and branded a traitor. Is it real, Helga?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Wordlessly the tauress begins to turn the device over. She notices something - producing a bowl from somewhere and taking out a small blade, she pops open a seal you didn't even notice</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She tips the device over the bowl</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Black powder pours out</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;YES! YES IT IS. AAAAAH BA-A-A-CHUS IS REAL-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda muses. &quot;Incredible. Every time we'd come close to getting one, they'd detonate it before we could reach them...Anonymous, this puts us way ahead of the gryphons - if they ever try anything, we'll know weeks - no, months in advance!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You smile the smuggest smile in the past decade</span><br />&quot;So... spymaster?&quot;<br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;General at least! By Elysium, you've secured our border with them for generations!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You sigh deeply</span><br />&quot;Well... at least it was worth it.&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;You're damn right it was worth it! I'll personally lobby to have you promoted immediately - and triple - no, sextuble your pension! The amount of lives and gold saved by this intelli-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*clickaclickaclicka*</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You both turn your heads to see Helga furiously working the device, a thin strip of paper inserted into one end and slowly popping out the other with each click</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She looks up once she notices the conversation has died down</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;.... I'm making it say butts.&quot;</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Well then.</span><br />&quot;Heh. So maybe one more mission-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Anonymous, no. We're not going to let you take another mission so dangerous or long. You're done-&quot;</span><br />&quot;Well, what about a second-level target, then?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Anon, is it so displeasing to you that you'd want to finally slow down, maybe settle down? Find a few cows, raise some calves? Possibly join the Senate proper?&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You smirk</span><br />&quot;No, but... I want to see if I can't achieve something, you know?&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;As if you haven't already?!&quot;</span><br />&quot;Well... there's never been a male in the Consulate. One more good mission would get me in there - maybe with the ponies? They're an ally, sure- but also a secondary target if neces-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;FLIER!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Some soldier cries out a warning, and you feel the cart suddenly stop</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;ARMS! ARMS UP-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;*pomf!*</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Four limbs hit the top of your wagon</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Without hesitation, Brunhilda dives ontop of you, shielding you with her body</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;HAVE AT YOU-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Greta launches up, gripping one of the limbs of the assailant and pulling her bodily through</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And it's at this time, and from your viewpoint, that you realize it's no gryphon</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The gray flank of a mare rips through the fabric</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And it is a prodigious flank</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You take a few moments to admire it - though not as much as Greta, who gets a faceful of it as the pony slams her into the floor of your transportation</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Greta twitches, but doesn't move</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;K.O.</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The pony looks around before seeing you, smiling wide. &quot;I brought you a letteeerr~&quot;</span><br />&quot;Wh-Uhnnn, Brunhilda-&quot;<br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;What the Tarta-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The mare, letter in mouth, boop-kisses your handler</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunilda's mouth closes around the letter, and the mare pulls away</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oooh, snacks! Itadkamasyuu!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Brunhilda looks down at the mare, then at you - then pulls the letter out of her mouth.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Royal seal of Canterlot?&quot; With a flick of her wrist, she pops it open.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Dear Human Anonymous,</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Magic is hecka OP</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Don't try anything with my ponies or you'll regret it</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;When I go</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;I go hard</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And when I scrunch</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;I scrunch really really hard</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Yours,</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The Prettiest Pacifist Pony Princess.&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The two of you share a look, until you hear the clinking of a bowl</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The pegasai finishes lapping up the black powder, the crickling of thousands of tiny explosions in her mouth making her giggle with glee</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;eeeeeee tastypain~! Thank you so much!&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Spreading her wings suddenly - and smacking you in the head, thankyouverymuch - the pegasus takes off</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;straight up</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;...taking your roof with her</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Like some canvas ghost, she floats away, her erratic flight path - much like a butterfly, you think - causes all spears and arrows to miss her by a decent margin</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The letter drops from Brunhilda's hands, and you think - no, you're sure you saw some of the words move</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Burning a message into your mind</span><br /><span class="br0">&#91;</span>spoiler<span class="br0">&#93;</span><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;P.S.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;However, if you want to take your senatorial commission and come here for some cultural exchange</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;My sister and I are more than willing to house you in our suites for however long you'd like&quot;[/spoiler]</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;And then, almost as an afterthought</span><br /><span class="br0">&#91;</span>spoiler<span class="br0">&#93;</span><span class="co4">&gt;P.P.S.</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;After eight years of anal;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Puffy</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Pony</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;Pussy.&quot;[/spoiler]</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;&quot;Oh by the gods - Anon, you're bleeding-&quot;</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;As Brunhilda cups your chin to look at the blood trickling from your nose you study her face</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;She cares</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;That's actual concern - not for an asset, but for a person</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;person</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;...you're a person again</span><br /><br /><span class="co4">&gt;You reach up and rest your hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes for the first time in nearly a decade</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;The eyes of someone who sees you for you</span><br /><span class="co4">&gt;......maybe settling down isn't such a bad idea after all</span><br /><br />END</div></div>




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