Chapter 3

Kieron sat at the main table in the library, several tomes scattered around him as he researched a project for the Lady Inquisitor Hallia. It was in truth a meaningless project, designed nothing more than to test his knowledge and research skills. For the past weeks it has been the same routine. The Lady Inquisitor would 'gift' him to one of the human Inquisitors for the night, followed by some kind of whipping or flogging, then sex, then waking up in his chambers to start the process again of getting up, reporting for breakfast, taking lessons in etiquette and protocol, obedience training, a light lunch, more training, research project for the Lady Inquisitor, then report to her with his findings and then dinner. He set down the quill pen and rubbed his eyes. So far this project has been nothing more than a glorified geography lesson. He had already done many such projects detailing the state of the Seven Realms, the Free States, the Island Republics, and the Empire. He glanced about him discreetly, before pulling out a copy on the history of the Imperial Government. He ignored the treatises on the bureaucracy, instead skipping to the scant pages on the Imperial Inquisition.

The Inquisition, he read, was not concerned with the religious matters of the Empire. The individual religions looked after the spirituality of their prospective flocks. No, the Inquisition was more of an intelligence gathering organization, with broad powers in dealing with the other kingdoms and realms of the world. They also oversaw the internal security of the Empire, which fortunately very few instances of treason or espionage were detected and eliminated. There was something going on here... something that he wasn't seeing. He closed the book in frustration, leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He stared at the fresco on the ceiling of the library. It was a very painstaking detailed piece portraying the last battle of the first Empress and her followers against the hordes of what is now Iceholme. All of the Great Houses of the Empire had Heroines in that battle, and many of the Empire's greatest Ministries also came about in that battle. Kayla Dragon-Wing of House Draconis, Dragonriders all; Murelle the Shadow Knife, Lady of the Nightfall Clan; Hallia of the Mind, Mistress of the Psyche; Giselle of the-

He sat up abruptly. Hallia of the Mind. He stood up, knocking over his chair and moved quickly to the wall of Imperial sciences. Two Inquisitor-trainees also stood, their eyes dark at the interruption of their studies. Kieron ignored them as he tracked down the only book in the library on the mental disciplines. He prayed he was wrong. He wasn't. To become and Inquisitor, it required a mastery of the Mental Disciplines, a mastery of one's innate psionic abilities. The Inquisitors had messed with his mind. He slumped down to the floor, stunned. Quietly he closed the book and replaced it, slowly standing and returning to his seat. He replaced the chair to its proper position before presenting himself to the two trainees.

"Please forgive my outburst, it was rude and uncalled for."

The two elves nodded solemnly and return to their work. He bowed respectfully before retreating, then gathered his materials and replaced the books, not giving the fresco a second look before returning to his room. He sat down wearily on the bed, wondering how he could have been so blind. Cursing himself for his feelings. Were they real? Or were they nothing more than an implanted idea? He rose after a moments rest, knowing that he would have to confront the Lady Inquisitor. Right now he didn't care what she would do to him for his imputiance. Yes, he thought. I would go to her directly, and damn the consequences.

There were no guards present at the entrance to her office, nor was there any kind of secretary or door person to greet or announce. He steeled himself and pushed the door open. The office of the Lady Inquisitor was quite tasteful, but dimly lit. In the shadows he could make out arms and armor that decorated the walls, marble statues at opposite ends of the huge fireplace. A pair of oil lamps sat on the massive oak desk, which was cluttered with papers and documents. He moved silently into the room, his eyes searching the dimness for any sign of traps or alarms. It was a dangerous endeavor he was undertaking. One that could very well get him executed, or worse. The desk itself was old enough to fetch a small fortune in any major city. He didn't touch anything on the desk, just looked. All of the papers were in an archaic form of Elvish, but not High Elvish. He scanned the walls, searching for any discrepancies that might reveal a secret passage. A chill raced down his spine. He whirled around to face... an empty room. There was no one here. He crossed behind her desk and sat wearily into her chair. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, something sharp digging into his lower back.

"It HAS been a while since I had a young man sit in my lap."

He surged out of the chair, only to be brought up short with a hand firmly entwined in his hair. He struggled against the grip as another arm wrapped itself around his waist. He relaxed instantly, trying to calm his fear.

"I TRUST there is an excellent reason for you to invade my office?" Hallia asked, her voice hard. "Speak boy, before I have you whipped."

"You lied to me."

"Oh?"

"You have been playing with my mind, controlling me."

"Have I?"

"Don't deny it!" He shouted, the tears standing in his eyes. "Everything here is a lie."

"Ah. So you deny that you have enjoyed the exquisite pleasures of being spanked, and whipped, and cropped?" Her hand strayed to his groin, where she stroked his erection. "And this?"

"You are doing that."

"On the contrary, I do nothing that you yourself do not want done. You want this life. You want to be punished. You feel guilt at the things you have done in the past, the desires and wants you have experienced." She stood, taking him to a standing position with her, but not releasing him. "All your life you have sought to belong. A place where you can fit in and be yourself." She turns him to face her, releasing his hair to take hold of the ring in the front of his collar. "You didn't fight us when we took you, claimed you as one of us." Her face was inches from his, her eyes a burning red in the darkness.

He backed away from her, bumping into the desk. She followed, maintaining her contact with his body. He was caught in a dilemma, whether or not to fight, to strike out. The scent of her body was very intoxicating, and she appeared to make no other move other than to keep him off balance.

"Stay away." He said weakly, seeking an avenue of escape. He avoided her eyes.

"You belong to me." She stated. "You are MY property. You have no authority to tell ME what to do boy." Her tone wasn't an angry one, but very close to it.

"Submit." She said.

Kieron pushed her away, flipping back over the desk and backing towards the door. Her eyes were mere slits. With a wave the desk slid out of her way, nothing disturbed on it, and she advanced. With her right hand she formed a fist and jabbed it forward. Kieron fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. With her left she formed a claw and lifted it to eye level, and Kieron rose off the ground, an invisible hand encircling his throat. He thrashed vainly, Hallia watching from across the room.

"Submit." She repeated, releasing her hold.

Kieron fell to the floor, coughing. He surveyed his options, taking the moment to catch his breath. He couldn't just think a plan through; she would pick it out of his thoughts with ease. He rolled to the right, his hand coming to rest on one of the hilts of the many swords that the room held. He paused. Drawing a weapon here even in self defense upped the ante in terms of violence. If she truly was the Hallia that fought in the Great War a thousand years ago, there was nothing that he could do that could break her defense in the way of arms. Her expression never faltered as she held out her right hand parallel to the ground. The air tasted of ozone as the tip of a sword appeared to emerge from her palm, slowly sliding out until the hilt was firmly in her grasp. The blade seemed to hum with an unholy life. He released the hilt and backed away from all weapon slowly. She released the sword and it disappeared to where ever she kept it, and he skipped forward to deliver a front kick. She blocked with a forearm, her free hand quickly darting forward to palm-strike him in his chest. He gasped for air and dodged back out of range. He recovered moments later to launch himself at her in a charge, head down, arms spread to tackle her. She merely sidestepped his attack, pausing only briefly to bring her knee up to meet his on rushing head. The resulting effect was much akin to two large marble balls colliding. He fell into a shapeless heap, weeping openly. She stepped back to give him some space, unsympathetic to his emotional state. He lashed out again, only to have his arm trapped by her foot.

"Submit" She said more gently. "I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to."

"Why?" He croaked.

"Why what? Why you? Why me? Why you are being so stubborn? Why are you acting like a foolish child? Why are you forcing me to punish you?"

She kneeled down on the balls of her feet, releasing his arm. "You were born for this life. You are where you are supposed to be. You are EXACTLY where you need to be." She stood. The door opened to reveal a pair of Inquisitors, each bearing several chains and manacles.

"Take him to my personal chambers below. I will see to him shortly." She paused. "Make sure he is... quite secure."

Kieron struggled in his restraints. He was bound into a tight spread eagle position, his wrists encased in soft leather wrapped in steel cuffs, stretched taut about his head. His ankles were similarly adorned, and his toes could barely touch the floor. The white collar that proclaimed his status in the keep lay on the table before him. His hands felt like they were going numb. He took deep cleansing breaths as he tried to relax; however, this chamber did nothing to relax him. The room was well lit, despite it being in the dungeons of the keep, very clean, with many more such devices for inflicting pain present, than he had previously imagined existed. It was a very sterile environment, cold and unyielding. He heard the door open behind him, then close. He closed his eyes at what was coming.

"Look at me." Hallia commanded. Kieron opened his eyes to look at his owner. She was dressed not in white, but the deepest black. It was hard to tell where the leather and steel ended, and the woman began. She wore a corset with many straps and buckles on it, followed by a simple black skirt with the slits in the front over each thigh. Her legs were encased in thigh high boots with a seven inch steel-spiked heel. Her arms were bare, revealing well manicured nails painted the color of her eyes. Her snow white hair was unbound and loose; her expression was, to say the least, disappointed.

"I am going to have to hurt you now." She spoke, her fingers stroking his nipples. "I had hoped that you would have proven more sensible in your training, but I see that your human frailties have gotten the better of you." Her eyes met his. "This will be painful I assure you. I cannot have you run amok without paying some kind of penance. The other Inquisitors would not stand for it, and rightly so." She kissed him lightly on the lips. Then produced a ball gag. "Open your mouth pet." She whispered.

Kieron obeyed and the gag was locked in place. She took a vicious whip down from the wall and held it before him It was at least six feet long, with the end of the whip separated into many strands. Along the whip glinted the hint of metal imbedded into the leather. The whip looked well used. She looped it and hung it around his neck.

"This is a Blood Kiss whip. It is designed for maximum efficiency as well as maximum pain. It can flay a person of his skin, or leave irritating welts depending upon the wielder. Do not tempt me to use it on you. You will not enjoy it."

She slid a blindfold over his eyes and tightened it.

"Take your punishment like a good slave," She whispered into his ear. His nostrils flared as he sucked in the air, the sweat starting to give his nude body a sheen. He could only wait for it to begin.

Hallia let her fingers trail across his taut form. He was definitely an attractive man, the marks and wounds of the past erased from the tapestry of his flesh, leaving only a pure canvas from which to work. She sighed to herself. In all her years as head of her Order, she had never met such a stubborn human. She had trained thousands of males in her time, but this one was special. His own birth was unique in many respects, as was his mother. She would not enjoy punishing him, but she would do it.

"I had hoped that our first time together would have been under more... pleasurable conditions." She whispered into his ear again. He felt something being wrapped around his scrotum, very tightly. He moaned into the gag as weights were added, pulling his testicles down and making his erection stand out. Something gripped his shaft and jerked it harshly, repeatedly. He tried to pull away from the painful friction, but the chains held him firmly. He shook his head as the pain and pleasure of it fought in his head, the stimulus building until it came to the breaking point. The orgasm was pulled out of his body forcibly, and he screamed behind the leather gag, the hand roughly manipulating and kneading his penis until it was limp.

"I think I'll leave your mess for you to clean up with your tongue later." She spoke aloud. "Without your essence in you, you are more vulnerable to the pain."

He felt her hand tightly bind his penis using his piercings, followed by something encasing his entire genital region. There was silence that stretched on for what seemed to be an eternity, the ache in his testicles and penis the only sensations he received.

Hallia picked up the cane and flexed it experimentally. Normally she preferred to start out light with a paddle; however, she reminded herself that his was punishment, not pleasure. She rubbed his ass cheeks with her free hand measuring the warms and preparing her target. She held the cane millimeters from her target zone, a steady line of thin rattan. Within the space of a heartbeat she reeled back and laid a stroke across his ass. She rested a hand on his shoulder as he screamed and tried to get away. She laid a second line right above the first, then a third, then a fourth, until his ass was stripped from his lower back to the tops of his thighs. He was crying when she stopped, her hand feeling the ridges of the welts. His skin was unbroken, but well marked. She placed the cane on a table with other items that required cleaning, and then pulled down a pair of heavy floggers. She held one in each hand and tilted her head, studying her target zone. With precision of experience she began swinging both in unison, her eyes never wavering from his upper back. She felt him shudder through the contact of the floggers, the heavy leather immediately leaving angry red blotches on his skin. Blood raced to the surface of his skin, shifting from red to an evil purple. She felt rage, anger at his betrayal of her plans for him, for forcing her to do this to him. She flung the floggers away from her, both of them clattering against the walls behind her. Her lips curled back into a snarl as she raised her power. She knew in her heart that she could very well kill him. She took a glass of water from the side table, drained it, then set it down quietly. Her heart calmed as she stared at him. Her power flowed across her skin, the strength of it warmed her as she crossed to his back, her hand only inches away from his back. She traced a line down his back to his ass with a finger, in its wake an evil red welt rose. Several times she did this, until his screams ended in a shuddering breath. She stopped, extending her power over him until she was sure that he was still breathing. She looked up at her council, a representative of each race stood in attendance over Kieron's punishment. All nodded in approval, then silently filed out.