Oasis
Steam
My face scrunched up in confusion as Mariel handed me a glass jar. She looked embarrassed, and was relieved as soon as I was holding the container in my hands, like it had weighed heavily on her.
"--Did you hear me, Tal?" She asked, and I realized she had been talking.
I stared at her for a moment before shaking my head sheepishly, I had been too focused on studying the object in my hand. It was small and stout, with a off-white substance inside and a simple metal lid. I shook it, but it seemed like whatever was inside was solid. Perhaps some type of wax.
Mariel huffed, looking around the room. She put a lock of hair behind her ear before sitting next to me on the bed. A basket she had brought into the room sat untouched, covered by a small cloth, beside the frame of the entrance way, and she looked uneasily at it. I wondered about its contents, and if was in any way related to the jar in my hands.
Crickets began chirruping outside, filling the silence that had permeated between us.
"It's a type of wax," Mariel repeated, her lips taut. She wasn't looking at me. "You need to use it with the other tools I brought you." Her hand gestured towards the door. I nodded my head, eyeing the basket with growing suspicion.
"I can't help you do this," she said quietly, after a pause.
"What is this?" I questioned, opening the lid of the jar. I dipped my pointer finger in the wax, and rubbed it in with my thumb. It was slick, and oily, coating my finger in a clear serum. Once it was rubbed in, it acted more like a liquid than a wax, and smelled faintly of perfume.
Mariel pondered for a moment, before carefully answering, "It's to help you train. With the tools."
I didn't understand why I needed this.
Mariel looked like she wanted to run outside, and I could see that her cheeks were a deep scarlet. She seemed as uncomfortable as I felt, and I was about to question her further when she started talking again.
"Tal, you must," She hissed, and then took a steady breath. "You must do this. I can't always protect you. If Master Aren finds out you're not.. training, he will be livid."
Her voice was hushed in desperation, making me uneasy. A shiver ran up my spine. I had never seen Mariel so.. urgent before, or unsettled. She glanced towards the basket next to the door, before slumping forward and holding her head in her hands.
"Dear Ivai'ell," she mumbled, shaking her head sadly. "What's an old maid to do?"
I sat next to her silence, unsure of how to respond. Her nerves had transferred to me, and I gripped the jar in my hands with white fingers. It suddenly felt heavier in my grasp, and I looked at it skeptically.
"The.. tools in the basket, they're yours. Keep them." Mariel's head was still in her hands. I had the urge to reach out and hold her shoulder in comfort, like she had done with me, but I didn't move. The jar occupied my attention.
It was a deep dark outside now, and the sound of distant laughter traveled easily through the air and into the cabin. It was a strange sound to hear when the tension inside my room was so thick, as if it were mocking the ominous feeling we were shrouded in.
I didn't think I was ever going to feel normal here, or be able to accept so easily what was asked of me, but I also didn't want to disappoint Mariel. I didn't know much about her, or what her job here was, but she was there for me the moment I had woken up in this strange place and had stayed by my side every since. I had been so uncertain and lost in my own thoughts, constantly pushing away the thought of friendship, but this woman I had never met was nurturing me to health like a mother. She really was trying to protect me, going so far as to scold Seral for teasing me, and they had seemed so close. I felt the need to repay what she had done, not out of obligation, but for fear of seeing her hurt by what would happen if I didn't. I didn't want her to have to bear that burden.
"Okay, I'll.. I'll do it, Mariel." I said nervously, licking my lips. I tried to sound more calm than I actually was, and I hoped she couldn't see how tense my body was.
She looked up at me through parted fingers, and sighed deeply. A weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. I decided I wouldn't let her see me be punished for something so trivial, and on top of that, I had no idea how I would be punished. I hadn't seen that man-- Master Aren-- in a few days, but I could easily see him in my head. His cold, calculating eyes as they peered into me, prying apart my soul. The way his hair lay draped over his shoulder, every hair in place, as if it had been painted on. His fine, dignified features unmoving in an unreadable expression. I shivered.
It was a simple training task. How awful could it be?
The old maid pulled me in a quick embrace, before standing up. "Oh, oh," She said, pushing her back out with her hands, "my ol' back is sore." She patted her forehead with the end of her apron as she walked towards the doorway. The fabric that hung there was billowing in the light breeze.
"Tal, one more thing," she said, hovering in the entrance, the fabric pulled back by her hand as she lingering in the threshold, "those objects-- ahem, tools, they're insterted--"
"Okay." I said swiftly, cutting her off before she could finish what she was saying. My ears burned a light red color. "I got it."
She gave me a long, thoughtful look, before disappearing outside.
I sat on my bed, running a finger absentmindedly over the lid of the jar still clutched tightly in my hands . I tried to find any courage left inside of me, or perhaps more accurately-- any sense of obedience that would allow me to walk across the room-- without the fear of uncovering the items that had had Mariel so disquieted.
A low sigh escaped my lips, blowing up a piece of hair that had fallen onto my nose.
I stood up and warily approached the basket, eyeing it like I expected it to jump up and charge towards me. I crouched over it, my hand hovering over the cloth that covered the contents, before yanking it off and throwing it to the side before I could change my mind. The jar fell from my other hand with a soft clunk.
Inside, an assortment of strange, suggestive objects greeted me. A noise escaped the back of my throat as I picked one up, perhaps the smallest of the "tools", my hands shaking with adrenaline. It was small, a little larger than an egg-- and about the same shape, but it thinned out towards the top. The bottom had a stem attached, and a flared out base. I couldn't tell what it was made of, but it was sleek and weighed hardly anything in my hand. I stared at it, and then at the other ones skeptically. All of these tools, they looked so, so..
Phallic.
I dropped it back into the basket quickly, my face warm with embarrassment. What in the world was that thing? Did that.. did that really need to go... in there? And it was the smallest item in there, how could they, in earnest, expect me to insert that anywhere?
My tongue dabbed across my lips nervously. Suddenly finding myself parched I shot up and burst outside. The cool air of night gave me goose bumps, and I shivered in combination of the temperature against my hot skin and the bundle of nerves that had begun whirring around under my surface, like a shaken hive of bees. My throat was threatening to tighten shut.
What in the world--
I dug my fingers through my hair, squatting next to my hut. Crickets continued their cacophony of chirps, unperturbed by my dramatic display. The sound of laughter could be heard again, drifting slowly through the darkness.
This was unfair, unjust, unreasonable, and most aptly, cruel. The absolute shameful idea that I was to insert anything, especially those dreadful creations, into my..
It was absurd. Completely--
"Am I interrupting something?" A soft voice said, sounding almost amused.
I flung my head up to see the intruder, my face burning in the cool air. Before me stood Pyre, her hair looking wild underneath the moonlight. She had on different clothes; a long dress that fell down to the ankles, simple and brownish in hue, and an apron strung around her waist, similar in style to what Mariel wore. She gave me a weak smile before sitting next to me, her fingers already absentmindedly stroking the blades of grass.
I wasn't exactly in the mood for company, but I didn't move away.
"I haven't seen you since the other night," she said, not sounding especially concerned. "I was wondering where you've been."
I took a deep breath, knowing that she wouldn't be shooed away easily. "I've.. I've been around, I helped Seral today, and I'm suppose to start tr--" the word training refused to leave my mouth, and I swallowed hard. It was impossible to say after discovering what exactly it was that I was to be doing during training. Could it even really be called that?
"Helping Seral?" She mused, an eyebrow arched. "He hardly lets anyone near those damn animals."
I nodded at her, slightly taken aback. We lapsed into a silence, and I struggled to keep my thoughts from wondering back into the cabin, back to those vulgar objects. Maybe if I tried to squeeze my eyes shut, and open them again, I'd wake up on top of the cliff. Maybe I was asleep, or I knocked my head, and when I opened my eyes--
"Have you started.. the indoctrination process?" Pyre asked, her eyes suddenly boring into me. My upper lip curled against my will at her suggested meaning.
"Please," I choked, squeezing my eyes shut, "I can't think of it right now."
"You have to do it, you know. Master Aren's wrath isn't worth your dignity." She chided, as if I were none the wiser.
"Then what is worth my dignity?" I snapped, staring at her wide-eyed. Pyre seemed unfazed by my outburst, and simply held my gaze, unblinking.
"Your life." She said simply.
I groaned, putting my head in my hands. I wasn't so sure anymore. If this is what it meant to be alive, if my life was resolved to this until I were to die, without my freedom, then I just wasn't certain anymore.
"Tal," Pyre said, looking at me thoughtfully, "It's embarrassing, and you'll feel improper, but it's not so bleak. The life of a pleasure thrall is more leisurely than the life of most chattels. You have your own sleeping quarters, any labor that you do will be light, and you'll be treated with favoritism by the Lords, if you're keen." Her expression was tinged with what almost looked like jealousy, but she shook her head in a sympathetic manner.
"Use the small ones," She continued bluntly, and I could feel myself burning again, "Don't dawdle, either. You'll be called for sooner than you know it, and if Master Aren suspects you've neglected the only duty you've been assigned to since you've gotten here, I don't suppose he'd take to it so kindly." Her voice was light, almost impersonal, as if she were talking about something as effortless as the weather. She didn't coddle me at all, or tip-toe about my feelings quietly; she simply laid out what she thought I needed to hear in a straightforward manner. I wondered if that's what all people from her background were like.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked, feeling dejected.
"Because I used to be you." Came her quiet response, the lightness in her voice suddenly gone. Her eyes darkened, and I could tell she was no longer looking at me, but into herself.
***
After a rather short conversation with Pyre, I made my way back inside. By the time I was laying under my blankets, it was eerily quiet; seemingly everyone had made their way to their own rooms before we had finished talking. She was a strange girl, unlike anyone I had ever known, and I came to the silent conclusion that it had more to do with her personality than her background. She usually avoided eye contact, but when our gazes met, it felt like her eyes were burning through my head. What she had said was repeated again in my mind now that I was alone.
Because I used to be you.
I looked at her silently after she had said that, feeling a pang of sadness, but her expression never changed. I couldn't help but be intrigued by her. She seemed to be the same age as me, perhaps younger, but I could tell her spirit was old. The way she spoke and moved was fluid, like she was gliding over the ground as easily as a shade, always deliberate and slow. Her expressions seldom changed. Sometimes, though, when I looked at her face long enough, her eyes would flicker, like there was a fire being lit in her mind. In a way, I had replaced her purpose here, and I wonder if she resented me for it.
I sighed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
The blankets felt heavy on me, so I tossed them aside and sat up, suddenly feeling antsy. My hands were clammy with nerves and I glanced toward the door, where I had dropped the jar earlier in the evening.
Don't dawdle.
The words rang in my mind loudly, making my mouth dry. If I were to quietly attempt at anything, now would be an ideal time. The air was cool, and it was dark, and I wouldn't be disturbed. On their own, my legs swung over the side of the cot, and I wobbled up onto unsteady legs. It was too dark to really make out what I was looking for, and I certainly didn't want to light any candles that could bring attention to my shack. I shuffled around until I felt my foot brush up against the jar, causing it to roll away. I quickly fumbled after the noise and grabbed it before returning to my bed, with it clutched tightly to my chest.
My heart was thudding loudly my ears, and I didn't know what was spurring me forward anymore; the fear of Master Aren, the fear of hurting Mariel with my refusal to cooperate, or just plain fear. The feelings mingled together in a nerve-wracking medley.
My fingers slipped against the metal of the lid from how sweaty they were, and I wiped my hand on the blanket before trying again. It opened after a moment's struggle, and I let the top plink to the floor.
I attempted to steady my breathing as I reached a tentative finger into the jar, scooping up a sizable amount of the substance inside. I coated my fingers carefully, shaking as I went. My teeth bit down so hard on my lower lip, I swore I could taste blood.
With another sigh I laid back, spreading my knee's apart. The cool air tickled my groin, and made me feel exposed. The thumping in my ears was the only thing I could hear. Hesitantly, I let my hand snake down between my thighs, and hovered there for a minute, feeling lightheaded.
I can do this.
Holding my breath, I let a single finger brush up against the bud my entrance. I fought the urge to quit and pretend I had never gotten this far, and instead began probing the tight ring of muscle. My voice hitched in my throat as I slid through, the oil on my finger had let me access myself with surprising ease.
I sat there for a moment, letting my muscles adjust to the intrusion. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but it was a foreign feeling, and definitely odd. I steeled my nerves again before letting my finger slide further-- now up to the knuckle-- and squeezed my eyes shut with a quiet whimper.
The embarrassment was overpowering, smothering me. A feeling of shame began creeping up, crawling slowly up from my stomach until my heart felt heavy with it. I was about to pull my finger out and call it a night when I heard a voice warning me.
Don't dawdle.
I had hesitated for the entirety of the ordeal that landed me here, sitting idly by as other people took my life and flipped it upside down to match their will. I was becoming tired of other people having to push me forward, my sluggish feet always digging into the ground-- as if I could slow myself down enough to go backwards in time. But that wouldn't happen, it was me versus myself right now, I set the stage for the rest of whatever was to come.
If it was this or a punishment, I would pull through. I could do this of my own free will.
I pushed in fully, gasping. I could tell every inch of my skin was flushing by how hot I felt, and my body was prickling with sensation. A surge of warmth raced down my chest into my groin, both confusing and inspiring me. I pulled my finger out a little, before slowly sliding it back in all the way, feeling myself convulse. I could do this, I could do this.
I groaned quietly as I pulled half-way out, trying to allow room for another finger to poke at the hole. The oil on my hand was certainly doing its job, and I eased through the ring of muscle slowly without much struggle. The fullness was foreign and made me uncomfortable, and began teetering on the edge of pain. I wiggled in further, ever so slowly, and felt another surge of heat shoot down and pool into my groin. A breathy moan slipped past more lips before I could think to silence myself.
This, this.. was making me feel good.
I thrust both fingers in to the hilt, grasping onto the blanket with my second hand. Another sloppy moan fluttered out, and I blushed at myself. I was getting hard from the stimulation, and my member began to jut up to attention, pulsing to life.
My head was swimming was so many feelings-- shame, relief, arousal.
I pulled my fingers out to thrust them back in, as far as I could reach. Again and again, getting lost in the feeling. I was plunging them in, faster and faster. My prick began to weep onto my stomach in approval, begging to be touched. I wrapped my other hand around it, squeezing out the beads of pre-cum that had gathered on the tip like dew. I felt like my body was on fire. There had to be steam rising from the sweat on my body.
The hand around my member began to pump in cadence with the thrusts of my other hand as I picked up speed. I only slowed to insert a third finger, stretching myself an uncomfortable amount. The pain made me twitch and burn around the digits buried inside, but I was too far gone to stop. The pain was something I could push through, something I could manage as long as there was pleasure to help me mask it.
Focus on the pleasure, not the pain. Pleasure.
I wasn't in the forsaken land anymore, with the strange people and their Lords. It was just a white-hot feeling of ecstasy, pulling me out as strongly as a tide, underneath the surface, filling every orifice of my body with urgency and desire.
I pumped faster, until my blood felt like it was boiling. My body was wrapped in the arms of arousal, pulling me closer, closer, until I could smell him.
His musky scent of sweat and something else that made my head spin, because it was so pungent and natural. His dark eyes hovering over me in half-hooded pleasure. His lovely lips saying my name over and over, his hot breath hitting my neck with each desperate word. He was coaxing me over the edge gently, carrying me there--
Seral, Seral, Seral--
I jolted out of my stupor and pulled my fingers out so quickly it stung, and brought tears to my eyes. I was very quickly much too aware of my own fantasy. My shaft throbbed against my stomach, pleading for me to continue, but I sat still, my breath coming out in ragged bursts.
I stared into the darkness of my room, my eyes wide.
What just happened?