Learning Exercises (Aislin)

by **Cassidy Finch** on September 14th, 2012, 1:50 am

27th of Fall, 512 A.V.

Velvet stood right outside the House of Immortal Pleasures, hesitating with her hand halfway to the doorknob. She had been permitted a free day by her master today, and chose to expand her knowledge in a way that, though useful, was very distasteful to the slave. She had been hearing of slaves who were excellent in one craft or another and had been given special treatment for particularly skilled or useful work. Velvet was sure that what she wanted to learn from this house of ill repute would help her gain her freedom much faster than most other methods. Had she been a woman of lesser pride, Velvet might have sought to learn the art of the bedchamber from one of those in the House. It was said that they were masters of that particular trade. Though she could not bring herself to willingly allow her body to be used in such a shameful way, Velvet had decided on the next best thing. A masseuse was surely a valuable asset that her master would be glad to possess, so the slave was coming to the House today to learn the best ways to attend to that kind of work. It was not as effective in creating a soft spot in a man's heart as offering one's body, but it would have to do. Before her will could fail her, Velvet hastily opened the door to the House and strode inside. What she saw surprised her, to say the least.

Men and woman--beautiful, all--walked hither and thither in the opulently decorated room, some speaking with what Velvet supposed were 'clients'. The woman suppressed a shudder at the thought. Selling your body to some needy stranger was revolting. Many of the whores--for, no matter how well dressed, that was what they were--were lounging or standing about at ease in the relaxed atmosphere. They were just waiting for someone with a few mizas to come along so they could earn their keep. It stirred some very unpleasant memories in Velvet's mind, and she hastily turned her attention to the matter at hand. She had heard that many in the House were skilled masseuses, and needed to find someone who looked like a willing teacher. Someone who had no one to service. The slave had only a few mizas, but they were effectively her life savings. She was loath to spend them on anything here, as the services were all very expensive. If she had to pay for the lesson, then she would; she would go to great lengths to avoid it however.

Velvet walked around in what she hoped was a nonchalant fashion, overly aware of her sadly neglected attire. People from every social class were here, ranging from the rich nobles of the city all the way down to those who could barely make end's meet, but she still felt as though she stood out. She had come to the House in her nicest clothing, her white dress, but the mark of a slave of Ravok was still prominent on her hand and she was slightly dirty from her travel through the city. Her feet were probably the most noticeable; she was barefoot and her feet had dirt and grime on them. It was more than likely that she would be tossed out into the streets for soiling the furnishings or getting the whores dirty. She had to restrain the wry smile that tugged her lips upward at the thought.

For a short while, Velvet entertained the idea of asking the amiable bartender that took care of the bar that lay against the far wall, but that idea was quickly discarded as foolish. If she did that, she would be tossed out for sure! The slave had come during the early afternoon in the hopes that the House's usual patrons would more commonly come to call during the night hours. There were some people around, but Velvet was not sure if the crowd was the same all the time or whether it swelled as the hours passed. Eventually, Velvet ended up standing near a wall and watching the staff of the House at work. She didn't know what she had been thinking... She had no idea who she could ask! With a sigh, she prepared herself for a long while spent watching and waiting. Maybe someone would just 'stand out' to her...

by **Aislin** on September 16th, 2012, 3:18 pm

Her palm pressed into tanned skin, blistering from excessive exposure to the sun. Her nails dug in, scratching the drying edges, before falling into transparent beads, where his sweat had gathered, clinging to thick, chestnut colored hairs, which curled as easily as a pig's tail. They crawled over the length of his protrusion, a stomach which had fancied far too much wine, and now struggled to remain within the confines of his simple forest green tunic. Inwardly, the Chaon cringed, although a delicate smile played across her lips, and the flickering flame of a nearby candle lent a sparkle to her icy eyes. Her fingers dived, allowing his rough hairs, as unpleasant or if not more so than his scraggly, ale encrusted beard, encase her fingers. She could feel them slipping over a smooth bed of paling skin, enshrouding them as easily as dangling purple veil. She pulled her appendages back, forcing her knuckles to ripple as her limbs scrunched in their middles, and then prodded the man's flesh lightly, as they circled towards his exposed pectorals; ill-defined despite whatever work he offered to the world.

You'd best be worth something, Aislin thought to herself, as iced irises danced over his form a moment, before trailing away. Taking a clean sweep of the floor's tiles. The candles which dotted the corners of the room, and were strewn over the tops of tables in groups of threes, or simple couplings, assuming one had run the wick too short. Leaving it little more than ashen mess upon a pool of molten wax. Taking note of the number of patrons that had come for the night, and the other whores which were trying to seduce. Even the new girl, standing alone, scared and confused. Smears of mud and grime soiling snow colored fabric, staining a blank slate. A strip of innocence tarnished by unfavorable labor, shown little respect in that service went unpaid. It was almost as pitiful as Aislin's own job, if not worse. Aislin couldn't help but offer a small smile as she pulled her eyes away, unwilling to allow her eyes to linger, lest her potential customer run off before she'd had the chance to pocket a couple of mizas for her histrionic affection.

The hand which refused to discover the hidden unpleasantries of her latest male specimen trailed up the length of his rounded back, before running up the length of his shaggy mane. Soft, chestnut colored curls, matted by what appeared to be both dust and wood shavings. Sediment, which imbedded itself behind Aislin's nails, forcing the tips to run brown as she squeezed her fingers together. Ensnaring several strands which she used to coerce his boar's neck to turn. Facing her head on, as though in preparation for a kiss. Her right leg, the one which rested closest, lifted off the ground, as she bent her limb lightly at the knee. With delicate foot strapped into simple black sandal, equipped with four inch heel, the woman began to drag against his left leg. The heel's point sliding against the cotton fabric draped over his leg. Forcing it to furl and unfurl as she urged the pressure she applied in and out. Trying to mirror the subtle undulations of Lake Ravok's water against the sides of the canal. Where the ravasola men were kings.

The man smiled at her, as Aislin dipped her chest, offering a rather nice view of her bosom, captured beneath the length of black fabric, upon which a simple floral design had been woven in dark thread. Capable of being seen, only when within close range. Whale bones cinched the entire thing together, pinching her waist into slim line, as it pushed her upper half up. A black ribbon criss-crossing along the length of her spine tying everything together, while strips of lace strapped the last of her simple black underthings to the more advanced suggestive contraption.

The woman's fingers clawed at the man's chest, while the remaining seemed to massage the top of his scalp as the bones creaked. As she shifted again, bringing their bodies even closer. Enough where she could smell stale ale upon his breath. There, Aislin paused, as she smiled wickedly, her hands holding the man absolutely still, so that he was incapable of having eyes for anything or anyone other than her. There was a momentary silence, where even the pleasured and pained moans of the brothel couldn't be heard as the air grew increasingly dense. As the woman forced the magic within to stir, and rise to the back of her eyes. She could feel her entire body tingling with favorable sensation, excitement at the knowledge of what her djed was about to become. The ability to predict what was going to occur between herself, and a patron she wasn't so sure she was going to get much out of, although she'd try.

Even if it meant merely washing the memories away. Or perhaps, drowning them.

Another beat of their stilling hearts, and Aislin would push her djed out. Beginning to weave an unspoken web as smoldering coals, illuminated by light's refraction churned. She could sense their relentless prods as they began to overcome the ice. Sending it into a cascading spiral of clear liquid, which seemed to drain, perhaps running into the whites as her pupils took over. Instantly dilating with her first magical expenditure. Her first true attempt at seizing control.

All this time has made you thirsty. Your throat has grown dry, and you are left wanting. An ale sounds good. An ale would whet your appetite. As would a glass of wine. Why don't you get one from the bar? It is not far. Just a few paces, and then you could return. With one for each of us. Whores get thirsty too, after all.

The whore smiled as she dangled her lips no more than a few inches away from the man. "Thirsty?" she asked, her voice sounding as though it were of the air. Floating on wispy tendrils as easily as would a feather. The man nodded as he released himself from her hold, causing the bones to creak as he pushed himself out of the coach they had shared. A simple rectangular strip of dark leather, whose farthest end curled into a sort of armrest. He nodded, but said nothing as he walked over to the bar, as though he had never been.

"Amateur," Aislin muttered angrily under her breath, as she turned to watch him go, and her eyes fell upon the slave once more. Her bare, dusty feet, grown worn from a long walk along the docks. Frightened, almost confused looking eyes, and matted blonde hair. Like a lion's mane, grown untended after losing a battle. Her iced eyes settled on her twisted locks for a time, before falling back down, to her hand, to the mark. So she is a slave, the Chaon realized, as another wave washed over her. One that constantly reminded how alike the two of them were. Bound by invisible chains which kept them locked in less than ideal life. Perhaps then, it was because she took pity, or perhaps it was because she was in a mood to toy with another that she beckoned the girl over with a single finger, as she sat herself up in her seat.

It was Cassidy's turn then, to make a move.

OOCSorry my first post is always a little shaky.

by **Cassidy Finch** on September 19th, 2012, 2:00 am

[center]

The slave watched the obscene goings-on for a few chimes before someone in particular caught her eye. A beautiful woman in astonishingly immodest clothing, nothing surprising in this hellish place, was practically sprawled over a disgustingly potbellied workman. The whore was stroking, carressing, and doing gods-knew-what else to the man as she fawned over him with a sickening expression on her face. It looked as if she actually enjoyed having her hands all over his grime-encrusted skin and tangled in his greasy hair. Velvet had to hold back nausea as she watched the whore at work, unable to tear her eyes from the baffling sight before her. Why would someone willingly treat a stranger that way? No amount of money could persuade Velvet to get anywhere near that bastard!

The slave didn't know whether to pity or disdain the woman before her. She couldn't possibly like what she was doing. Was it at all possible that she found it enjoyable to bring strange men into her bed? Did she truly think it was worth the money that they paid? Surely, even resisting and fighting them at the cost of brutal punishment would be better. Death, even! Velvet suppressed a shudder--probably her second or third--and carefully forced her expression to become one of neutral indifference to the horrors before her. Coming here was a bad idea, Velvet thought as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, All these people know how to do is keep cruel beasts entertained. That much was true. They knew the best ways to coax a man into giving up his hard-earned mizas for a night of bedroom fun. Then again, it probably didn't take too much work. For most men, in Velvet's opinion, all it took was a hiked-up dress and spread legs for them to pay attention. Fortunately, she had never needed to degrade herself in that particular way. Not yet, anyway.

The slave nearly turned to leave when something caught her eye; the whore had caught Velvet's eye and smiled. The woman could not be sure, as it had only been a moment, but she was sure there had been a smile. This caused Velvet to freeze in her position, a morbidly curious expression on her face. If possible, she would try to get a word privately with this woman. Her expression, if it wasn't imagined, was probably the friendliest she'd gotten in a while. If anyone in this disgusting whole of debauchery could help her, that woman could. The slave did not need to wait long however; after another chime or two, the whore suspended herself over her swinelike customer and whispered something seductively to him. With a nod, he disentangled himself from the woman's clingy grip and sidled over to the bar for a drink.

The man failed to notice the look of anger on Aislin's face. With his back turned, she was free to express her true emotions. A flicker of hope traveled through Velvet at the sight. Maybe she didn't really like her work! She did not know why, but the slave found that to be a comforting thought. If someone had to sell her body as though she were an animal, she should never enjoy it. Especially if she had to put on a facade of pleasure and lust, such as was required of these whores at the House. Surprisingly, the woman turned her blue eyes onto the slave's form, her gaze flitting from Velvet's head down to her feet, and then stopping for a moment on the mark that let it be known to all the world that she was a slave, a piece of property. The old bitterness ran through Velvet, though she clamped down hard on it this time. She had no intention of letting herself lose control in this place. Her previous masters had jested about selling her to a cheap whorehouse, and it was possibly the only fate Velvet considered worse than her own. To live life as a toy for men's amusement would be unbearable.

A tick later, the beautiful woman summoned Velvet with a wave of her finger. The slave stepped forward with only a little hesitation; the whore seemed friendly enough. Velvet doubted that she would cause her any harm. As she approached, the slave dropped her false mask of humility and sniveling servitude. She could bend her pride for her master and respectable authority, even if it rankled her, but she would not treat some whore like she was superior. At the least, Velvet was an equal with the woman who now stood before her. The slave knew it was a foolish risk to take, but she just couldn't lower herself to that level in front of someone who allowed her innermost privacy to be invaded on a daily bases. There was no disdain or hatred in her expression, as would be there had she showed her true feelings around just about anyone else. There was only a calm sort of confidence, and a hint of defiance. Velvet waited in silence for the woman to let her reasons be known for coaxing her into the whore's presence.

by **Aislin** on September 22nd, 2012, 2:21 am

As soon as the slave had noticed and heeded her call, Aislin's hands fell effortlessly to her sides, where the palms prodded the seat lightly. Her fingers sliding along its length to wipe some of the grime from their surface, as her iced eyes trailed up the length of marbled floor. Scrutinizing the woman's uneasy strides, the way the folds of her clothing swirled about her form as she ambled along. When she was within earshot, the whore would pat the seat next to her in invitation before commanding with a single word. "Sit." Her hypnotic djed easily weaving itself around the single syllable, gliding on the air as though it were a part. Make yourself comfortable, it would add as the woman chose either to obey her once more, or ignore. Perhaps out of reluctance more than anything else.

Aislin would smile sweetly as she shifted in her seat. "You are not one of ours, nor have you been brought in shackles, leading one to believe you're not meant to become one of us either." Aislin paused a moment, considering her words. "You bare the mark though, as so many of us do, although we do our best to hide it. Or, at the very least, lend it a cloak of invisibility in our mind's eye so as to distract. But who does it fool when all know that it is already there? Where it has come to lie?" The whore's hands slithered along the seat, making small rotations for a chime as the gears clicked within the confines of her mind. Leaving her to trail each appendage up the length of her thighs, where they finally settled near the cusp of her hip. "So, stranger, what have you come to the brothel for? Surely with an expression such as that upon pale visage leaves one to believe that you didn't venture to this place of your own fruition." The Chaon fell silent a moment, as she whet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "What then, did the man that bound you send you for?" she inquired, as her gaze fell away from the slave a tick, as footsteps sounded against the floor. They were growing louder with each passing second.

And they were not of a woman's heel.

Aislin looked up to find her previous patron standing over them. Breathing heavily, the flesh upon his cheeks blotchy and red. In each of his hands he held a glass of cheap wine. But his eyes were what made her skin prickle. Somehow, despite the color, they managed to be icier than hers. "You found someone else then?"

The whore's eyes narrowed. "Yes," she said, with an edge of caution. Leaving the man to walk off. Damnit, Aislin thought as her right foot slid forward, across the polished floor. Almost had him, her mind added as she raised a single finger to her lips, and wiggled her toes against the bottom of her heel, just as the man went over. Stumbling at first, and then tumbling down. The crimson liquid sloshing against the supple curve of clear glass before it cascaded down its side. Red droplets speckling a bed of white as the man's face hit the ground hard, leaving Aislin to sneer wickedly as she drew her finger away from the plump crescent. Her eyes sparkling as her limb receded and the glass clattered against the floor.

"Don't worry about that," Aislin whispered. "He'll be alright, and someone will be around to clean the mess up soon enough. We do like to keep the floors shimmering as the stars, and as of late, its grown littered with the city's trash." The woman paused as her eyes danced over the groaning man, the shattered stems splayed against his bloodied, outstretched palms. The crystal shards jutting out from between the severed sections of his skin, the thin sheet of webbing which lingered inside of meaty sausages. When she had drunk her fill, Aislin turned back to Velvet. "Where were we?" she asked as the man rolled over, as the cleaning crew swept in. Like a group of vultures picking over a spoiling carcass.

"Tripped," Aislin mumbled under her breath, as though in explanation as they all set to work, and she folded a single leg over the other. As though beseeching the slave to go on, and say something. Anything, against her.

by **Cassidy Finch** on September 23rd, 2012, 8:00 pm

As she approached, Velvet saw the woman lightly brush the seat, as if to rid it of the grime that her customer had left behind. "Sit," She said to the slave, her voice not at all unpleasant to the ear. The whore's order wasn't condescending, like most that Velvet had been subjected to and compelled to obey; it had a lighter quality, less of a command and more of a request. Still, it was a request that had all expectations of being obeyed. The slave might have, under other circumstances, remained standing out of spite, but knew that it was wisest to sit down. She didn't want to offend the one person here who hadn't simply dismissed her.

Seating herself uneasily beside the whore, Velvet oriented her body slightly towards her to indicate that she was paying attention. Much to her surprise, the woman's smile was kind and warm, not flirtatious. The relief that the slave felt was almost tangible, and she was sure that the woman would notice it, too. Velvet had no urge to do anything intimate with anyone, much less someone who would only do it for the mizas involved. "You are not one of ours, nor have you been brought in shackles, leading one to believe you're not meant to become one of us either." The whore paused for a tick or two, pondering the situation, "You bare the mark though, as so many of us do, although we do our best to hide it. Or, at the very least, lend it a cloak of invisibility in our mind's eye so as to distract. But who does it fool when all know that it is already there? Where it has come to lie?"

It took the slave a short while to understand the whore's words. She spoke with such flowery language that it was almost painful to listen to! Before Velvet could gather her wits and answer, shifted gracefully in her chair and continued on, "What then, did the man that bound you send you for?" Velvet fought down a stab of envy at the woman's grace. Though she knew it came at a high price, the slave had always envied the ease with which free women and, of course, whores moved. Years of menial labor, sleep on the hard floor, and beatings had robbed her of any natural grace she might have had. In its place was a kind of quiet, understated fluidity; her movements were calculated to make her seem weak, nonthreatening, and not worth a second glance. Velvet noted that this was a stark contrast with the woman in front of her; her movements were meant to attract the eye of anything with a heart in its chest.

Velvet tensed up all over as she heart heavy footsteps quickly approaching their seat, and followed her companion's gaze. The heavy workman was standing over them, glaring coldly at the whore sitting beside her. "You found someone else then?" His voice was every bit as cold as his gaze, and Velvet shrank from it for fear of the anger being taken out on her, instead. The slave tucked her branded hand under her leg as inconspicuously as possible; if he noticed that she was just a slave, the man might just use her as a way to relieve his anger.

Fortunately for the slave, her companion was still commanding the workman's attention, "Yes," She said cautiously, as if worried about something similarly unpleasant happening to her. The workman shot a last dirty look in their direction as he stormed past. Before the man could get far, the woman slid her heeled foot out in front of him. Velvet almost opened her mouth to warn the angered workman, but the whore placed a finger on her lips to indicate silence. It was intentional! The slave could barely suppress the cruel smile that threatened to spread across her features as she watched the whore send the man toppling to the ground in a shower of broken glass and spilled wine.

The whore, clearly pleased with herself, whispered, "Don't worry about that. He'll be alright, and someone will be around to clean the mess up soon enough. We do like to keep the floors shimmering as the stars, and as of late, its grown littered with the city's trash." She drew her leg back up to its usual position and examined her prey, taking in the bloodied man's mangled hands and the obvious pain he was in.

The slave couldn't help the wide grin that filled her face as she replied, "You're right. It's looking a little dirty." Velvet forced her expression to sober as a group of slaves began to dispose of the man's unconscious form. It wouldn't do to be seen so blatantly pleased with the man's injury. Besides, if anyone were to be happy about it, it ought to be her companion. She was the one who nearly had to sleep with the bastard. Again, the slave shuddered. She pitied the other woman; despite the lack of manual labor, selling your body to the highest bidder was no way to live life.

"Where were we?" She asked, before commenting to the crew, "Tripped..." The woman's challenging stare was unpleasant, to say the least. Her blue eyes bore into the slave like a pair of iron augers digging into her skull. With a mildly strained smile, Velvet nodded her agreement with Aislin and said, "He had too much to drink..."

After that, the slave lapsed into silence until the cleaning crew had done their work and removed the man from their presence. Now, with no ears to hear her, Velvet began to answer the woman's previous queries with a little awkwardness, "I came here to...to learn from you," She started, and immediately shook her head to dismiss the words, realizing they might hold a hidden meaning that really was not there. "I mean, I came to learn how to soothe a man." Again, the slave cringed. Damn it all! How was she to answer without possibly implying something vile? Disregarding her mistakes, the slave tried a third time, "I want to learn how to give massages; my master gave me the free time to learn how to be a better slave," The last part was said with a hint of bitterness. She shouldn't have to be given free time. She shouldn't have to be permitted to do anything! If life were fair, she'd be a free woman as carefree as a bird's song.

Still, life wasn't fair, and Velvet had to live with it, "How much would it cost to get a few lessons?"

by **Aislin** on September 26th, 2012, 5:00 pm

Aislin's eyes glimmered as a knowing smile crossed her lips with the rise of a single brow. Inquisitive, yet silent, listening as another spoke her wants and needs. Her hands slid alongside flesh and fabric lined padding needlessly, until they had reached the slave. The closer drawing over her white dress, bunching the fabric about her thigh. Her iced irises dancing over the way the folds undulated, and draped over her flesh. Marveling in how even innocence and purity could be forced to ripple, waver. She licked her lips as her eyes rose to meet that of the stranger. "Massage isn't one of the finer arts well known to me," the Chaon whispered. "But suffice it to say that enough has been seen here to offer you some suggestion, and a body to practice on, should you take it." She paused a moment, as her hand slid down the length of the woman's thigh onto her knee, where it circled lazily a moment before halting its advance. "With that said, then, it would cost you nothing to learn, for you are doing another a favor. Easing the tension which always dwells in crashing waves, which never seem to recede back out into the deeper depths of the sea." Again the woman fell silent, as though considering her words. "Besides, you'd be barring another nastier patron from coming this day, and any whore knows the need in that."

The Chaon's hand circled hungrily, winding around the knob of Cassidy's knee a moment, before trailing back up her leg and then cascading down the length of its side, before rising to meet her spine. "It seems that there are different sorts of massage, no?" Aislin asked, as she turned to face the girl a bit more as her right hand continued to mount. The left trailing a little farther behind, until each stilled, palms furled over the length of lightly hunched shoulders. "Some are used to evoke more carnal desires. A sense of lust within a being... consider what was just done, and how it made you feel. Or rather, how it could make another feel, seeing as you're rather uncomfortable. Even a tad, squeamish." She smiled weakly as the flickering lights of candles turned her pupils into smoldering coals. As her words hung on the dense air; softly spoken though they were. Laced with honey; as though she were a mother telling a story to her babe, or perhaps, simply attempting to lend comfort. "Do you know what that would do to a man who wished to take you into his bed? What would happen to that which makes him?"

A knowing twinkle lingered in the corner of her eye as she forced herself to stifle a laugh. "Even the lightest of touches can arouse them. But surely you know that already, and that is not what you came for," Aislin went on as she slid her thumbs along the woman's shoulder blades. Following the roughened crescent for a time, before she scrunched the rest of her fingers, and began to push her nails into covered skin. Prod with the tips of her appendages, so lightly, it could scarcely be felt. "You came to learn how to relax another with the use of your hands, did you not?" the Chaon inquired, before falling silent, offering but a brief moment in which the girl could reply as she continued to knead her flesh as though she were making bread. Although now, she applied more pressure with her thumbs, allowing them to make Cassidy's flesh bend to her own. Mold together seamlessly as she leaned in a little closer. So she could feel her hot breath buffeting the woman's skin. Refracting; coming back. Kissing both of their ears, their necks. "That is how you intend on becoming a better slave to your own master."

"Suffice it to say then, considering what has been seen, that there are a few things you must do first. The most important it seems, as in any other endeavor, is setting the stage. Say you were a patron, seeking the body of a whore in a brothel such as this. Had you walked into a building which seemed just as dilapidated on the outside as it was in, would you have been as enticed to stay?" Aislin asked, as she shook her head lightly, tousling her mane of raven colored hair. "Of course you wouldn't. Which is why we set the stage for anyone who dares enter- drapery, fine couches and seats, a bar stocked to the brim with various forms of liquor, scantily clad men and woman. A polished floor... you get the idea," she went on as her fingers continued to prod. "It can't be too different, if you wish to relax someone through message. I know a number of the woman rave about the use of dim lighting. Candles strewn all over the room. Their flames flickering slightly. Dancing before one's eyes as they spew thin wisps of smoke." She paused. "Scattering rose petals on the floor, fluffing the pillows you wish your employer to rest his or her head upon. Soothing music... lotions on the hands. Lavender and lemon grass they say is rather popular. As is almond, oddly enough."

The whore's hands stopped moving for a time as she racked her brain. Trying to remember everything she had seen and overheard so that she may tell the slave. "They seem to do that most with female clients," Aislin wore on as her hands hung limply over Cassidy's shoulders another chime, before trailing down to her mid back. The left finally falling away and returning to the Chaon's side. To brace, more or less, as the cinches creaked. "The men don't seem to care as much, most being far more interested in what you're wearing... or not..."

Her voice trailed off for a few ticks. "And if your hands wind up where they want them," Aislin added, as a sort of afterthought. "Other than that, knowing where a person hurts most seems to help... most seem to carry the weight of stress upon their back. Their shoulders; their neck. Paying attention to them would be wise, don't you think?" she asked. "Or just plain listening to what they want, I suppose." She paused another moment as she pulled away. Her hand leaving the woman's frame. Trailing, as lightly as a brush over paper. "That's about all there is to say. You should practice, on bare skin though... all the other whores always ask their patrons to undress." Aislin shrugged as she motioned for the girl to watch herself as she swung her legs around and settled on her stomach. Her hands casually strewn over the far edge of the couch. She smiled then, as she peered over her shoulder. "Start with the neck and shoulders then. That should be easy enough for you to reach, especially if you choose to unlace." With that, she smiled wickedly, wondering what the slave would do now, as she allowed her head to swivel back around.

OOCAlright, I totally realize Aislin has absolutely no experience in massage, but she essentially lives in a brothel. So... logic is telling me she'd have SOME idea on how it is done. Eh... hopefully this is alright.

by **Cassidy Finch** on October 3rd, 2012, 6:43 pm

The young whore's hands glided along the padding of their seat, lightly tracing their way towards Velvet. She let out a quiet gasp of surprise as the woman traced her soft hands up the slave's thigh, taking the hem of her dress up with it. "Massage isn't one of the finer arts well known to me," She breathed, her voice soft and quiet, "But suffice it to say that enough has been seen here to offer you some suggestion, and a body to practice on, should you take it." The whore's hand traced its way back down to Velvet's knee, and the woman let out a breath that she had unknowingly been holding. "With that said, then, it would cost you nothing to learn, for you are doing another a favor. Easing the tension which always dwells in crashing waves, which never seem to recede back out into the deeper depths of the sea." Again the woman fell silent, as though considering her words. "Besides, you'd be barring another nastier patron from coming this day, and any whore knows the need in that."

Before she could recollect herself and recover from the whore's physical response to her question, the woman began again, her hand circling lightly around the slave's knee. The hand slid back up the length of Velvet's thigh and softly trailed its way to the base of her spine. "It seems that there are different sorts of massage, no?" The whore's hands continued working their way up her back as she turned to orient herself more towards Velvet, her words flowing with the motions. The slave clamped down on her emotions as she felt herself starting to enjoy the woman's hands on her. Velvet had no interest in women, certainly not in women who sold their bodies, but she couldn't avoid feeling something as the woman's hands ran up the length of her spine to settle on her shoulders. Contrary to what she frequently told herself and tried to convince others of, Velvet had impulses and emotions that ranged as widely as anyone else's. Besides the stirrings of unfamiliar feelings, the slave found the feeling of another's touch to be not altogether unpleasant.

As a rule, the woman kept all physical contact limited. She rarely allowed others to touch her without a very good reason, but that was because the only touches she received were either the heavy handed beatings of displeased taskmasters or the lecherous groping that the slave associated with her previous master. The thought dampened her growing desire to relax and focus on learning from the woman, and her body tensed up somewhat at the phantom touches that her mind conjured up from unpleasant memories of the past. Still, she enjoyed the feeling of friendly hands resting on her shoulders. With an effort, the slave banished the imagined hands with a force of will that, through long practice, had become nearly instinctive. She determined that she would learn what she needed to, and try to enjoy herself in the process. Her memories wouldn't stop her from continuing on with her life.

"Some are used to evoke more carnal desires. A sense of lust within a being... consider what was just done, and how it made you feel. Or rather, how it could make another feel, seeing as you're rather uncomfortable. Even a tad, squeamish." The woman's smile, small though it was, gave Velvet some small comfort despite their meaning. She seemed to understand what thoughts were running through the slave's mind, and sympathized with her. The whore probably had felt the same way at some point in the past; she had obviously gotten over it however. She couldn't be successful in her...work if she held onto the same bitterness that always threatened to wash over Velvet like a tidal wave. "Do you know what that would do to a man who wished to take you into his bed? What would happen to that which makes him?" The woman's eyes twinkled with mirth as she continued, though Velvet clearly did not find the subject half as humorous as the whore did, "Even the lightest of touches can arouse them. But surely you know that already, and that is not what you came for." Aislin's words, though soft in reality, were harsh to Velvet's ears. She didn't want to hear about how to arouse a man, and never had any plans of doing so intentionally.

The whore lightly stroked her thumbs against the slave's tense shoulder muscles, coaxing them into releasing their pent-up energy and softening in the woman's grip. "You came to learn how to relax another with the use of your hands, did you not?" Despite the urge to stay silent and soak in the relaxing pressure of Aislin's hands, the slave breathed, "Yes, to relax them...But I don't want my master getting any ideas." The words were quiet, though mild as they were, they still brought back a little of Velvet's usual stiffness. As the kneading continued, Velvet felt her eyes slowly beginning to close as she immersed herself in the pleasant feeling. She felt the other woman's breath brushing lightly against her, the swirling air serving only to relax the slave further. "That is how you intend on becoming a better slave to your own master." Velvet felt as if she could feel the whore's words in the air that caressed her, their softness and quiet gentility tangible against her skin.

Velvet opened her eyes in order to bring her mind back into focus as the whore launched into a gentle lecture, "Suffice it to say then, considering what has been seen, that there are a few things you must do first. The most important it seems, as in any other endeavor, is setting the stage. Say you were a patron, seeking the body of a whore in a brothel such as this. Had you walked into a building which seemed just as dilapidated on the outside as it was in, would you have been as enticed to stay?" The woman shook her head, and the slave's own hair, as neatly kept as Aislin's, swished in near-unison as she continued. "Of course you wouldn't. Which is why we set the stage for anyone who dares enter- drapery, fine couches and seats, a bar stocked to the brim with various forms of liquor, scantily clad men and woman. A polished floor... you get the idea," Velvet had to fight to keep her mind on the whore's words instead of on her hands, which had continued their gentle pressure without pause.

"It can't be too different, if you wish to relax someone through massage. I know a number of the woman rave about the use of dim lighting. Candles strewn all over the room. Their flames flickering slightly. Dancing before one's eyes as they spew thin wisps of smoke." Aislin paused for a second, apparently thinking over her words, "Scattering rose petals on the floor, fluffing the pillows you wish your employer to rest his or her head upon. Soothing music... lotions on the hands. Lavender and lemon grass they say is rather popular. As is almond, oddly enough." To Velvet's disappointment, the woman's gentle prodding ceased as she struggled with the right words to say. "They seem to do that most with female clients," The whore's hands rested on Velvet's shoulders for only a moment longer before retreating, the left back to Aislin's side and the right stopped its descent at the middle of the slave's back. "The men don't seem to care as much, most being far more interested in what you're wearing... or not..." The whore trailed off for a few short moments, leaving Velvet to think about the implications of her words. She certainly wasn't going to let some man use her body like cheap trash; what good was freedom if it was earned by selling her soul? The very thought made her feel vaguely ill. To make it worse, the woman finished with, "And if your hands wind up where they want them."

Thankfully, Aislin left off that unpleasant train of thought and returned to more practical matters, and the slave's discomfort eased as she soaked in the instructions. "Other than that, knowing where a person hurts most seems to help... most seem to carry the weight of stress upon their back. Their shoulders; their neck. Paying attention to them would be wise, don't you think? Or just plain listening to what they want, I suppose." Velvet started a bit as she felt the whore's hand trail away from her body with a light, feathery touch. She'd forgotten that it was there! It surprised the slave that she was being so unobservant; minutes ago, she would have been incredibly aware of any kind of contact. Now, Aislin had her so relaxed that her touch seemed the most natural thing in the world. Worse yet, Velvet didn't really mind. She rarely had time to relax and be herself; to let down the false mask of the slave that she was forced to put on for everyone to see. At least here she was able to let that facade slip and act with the illusion of freedom. With a slight smile, Velvet nodded and urged the whore to continue.

"That's about all there is to say. You should practice, on bare skin though... all the other whores always ask their patrons to undress." With that, the whore spread herself out on the sofa, face down. Velvet watched with apprehension; she didn't consider herself a very 'touchy' person. In fact, she hated touching people. She'd only come here because this was one of the few places where she could learn ways to gain sympathy from a man without sacrificing what little that was left of her dignity. The slave knew that she'd have to get over it, so she made no objections as Aislin said with a wicked smile, "Start with the neck and shoulders then. That should be easy enough for you to reach, especially if you choose to unlace."

With a resigned sigh, Velvet slipped out of the chair and onto her knees so she could be at a better height for rubbing the whore's shoulders. The woman crawled forward on her knees until she was slightly behind Aislin's shoulders and in what she felt was a satisfactory position to reach her shoulders. Velvet knew that it would be better to just unlace the whore's clothes and be done with it; she'd need to do the same to her master, after all. Though the slave had no real sense of modesty--being stripped and sold as cattle banished that illusion very quickly--she was still uncomfortable with undressing someone else. After taking in a deep breath, the slave went to work. She fumbled with the laces on Aislin's revealing clothes, somewhat embarrassed by her clumsiness. Velvet had never worn an outfit that was so complicated; her clothes never even needed to be fastened! She either buttoned up her workman's shirt and pants, or she tugged her dress on over her head and was done.

"Sorry, I've never done this before..." She mumbled after a chime or so as she finally got the laces undone to the point that Aislin's shoulders and neck were unobstructed. Velvet settled the strings so that they fell to the side of the whore's body without getting in the way of her shoulders. Tentatively, the slave's fingers curled around the woman's shoulders, her touch so light that it seemed as if she wasn't even making contact. It took her a few ticks before she could gather the willpower to finally start. Even when she did start, the slave's hands were applying nowhere near enough pressure. Her thumbs dug into Aislin's skin just enough to cause a small indentation in it, but not so much as to give the muscles underneath any relief. Velvet's fingers were only holding onto each slender shoulder to give the thumbs an anchor point for their movement, and were making no attempt at helping out any. The slave knew she was doing badly, but couldn't force herself to press any harder. Velvet needed to get used to what she was doing before she could even begin to learn.

After a full four chimes of this, the slave huffily let go of Aislin's shoulders and dropped her hands into her lap, "I can't do it..." She said with an undercurrent of embarrassment in her tone. Velvet knew that she could do it, but it would involve going further out of her comfort zone than the slave was inclined to go. It was bad enough that she was in a brothel, massaging a whore in front of dozens of people, but to do it with no experience and at her own request? Velvet shouldn't have been so humiliated by it, but the things she was forcing herself to do still felt degrading. Despite spending most of her life as a slave, Velvet had never truly gotten over her pride. No matter how often she was subjected to beatings, rapes, and countless other torments, she still felt the urge to get revenge. Many slaves simply gave up and accepted their places as property, but Velvet never could. Not that she'd ever tried. Even to this day, she was unsure whether that was a blessing or a curse.

by **Aislin** on October 4th, 2012, 2:44 am

Aislin turned her head, and peered over her shoulder. Her iced irises sweeping over Cassidy's form within a heartbeat. "Can't?" she asked. "Or simply won't?" She paused as she whet her crackling pink lips. "One can sense the unease you know. In the way your fingertips tremble, and hesitate when pressing against the skin." She sighed. "You have to let go of your fear. Your lack of confidence, if you will, if you want this to work. Holding back like that, showing that you are afraid, only welcomes those who wish to use you. To walk all over you." The whore sighed, that she knew only too well, having seen it time and time again amongst the other prostitutes in the brothel. "Try again," the woman insisted as she brought her right hand to her chest, shoving the loosened corset in place as the strings fluttered against her side, tickling, as she eased herself up into a sitting position. "But start small, with something that may be a little less traumatic for you shall be say. Less embarrassing?" There was a short pause as her eyes took in the sight of slightly reddened cheeks. The pigmentation she knew would soon be flooding if the slave were not careful.

"Why don't you work on a hand? They're innocent enough," Aislin whispered as she offered the one left free. "Try working the palm first, and then each finger separately. And when you finish we can switch, before moving onto the things that seem to be far more challenging for you." There was a pause as the woman's right hand drew up the length of her chest, serving to draw the corset's ribbing slightly more taut than a moment before. The lacings stretched across her back. Drooping lines swinging back and forth as the garment parted. Strictly cut ends hanging proudly out to her sides. "Just say when you are done again, and we can make the switch," Aislin whispered as she closed her eyes, and the mark began to tingle. A cool kiss at first, followed by those far warmer. As though she were standing outside, and the sun's rays were hitting it directly. Causing her skin to sizzle as she basked in its glory. She could almost picture it bursting, bubbling beneath the heat's pressure, but it would not. It stood, an indistinct black sun; like a tattoo against the blade. The supple curvature.

"Remember to take your time as well," Aislin coached. "These things shouldn't be rushed, but not hopelessly drawn out either." She smiled weakly. "Take a deep breath if it helps. It's quite apparent that such things are not easy for you, and even if it were, keeping your breath measured and calm seems to help. Keeps the hands from applying too much, or too little pressure on the receiver. Or so you have just demonstrated only moments ago," she finished as she opened her eyes, and used them to study the slave. To see how she was progressing, or not...

Calm down, her hypnotic djed would urge, just before she closed her eyes again, and allowed herself to feel the rise in the woman's advancement. Allowed her magic to try and fill her with a sense of serenity as she waited for everything to be carried out.

Unless all ended in a ripe failure...

by **Cassidy Finch** on October 21st, 2012, 2:07 am

Aislin looked over her shoulder at Velvet, her eyes rolling over the slave for a tick before she spoke, "Can't?" the whore asked. "Or simply won't?" She paused as she whet her crackling pink lips. "One can sense the unease, you know. In the way your fingertips tremble, and hesitate when pressing against the skin." Aislin sighed, "You have to let go of your fear. Your lack of confidence, if you will, if you want this to work. Holding back like that, showing that you are afraid, only welcomes those who wish to use you. To walk all over you." Again the whore sighed, and the faraway look in her eye indicated that she had some experience with it. Does she have bad memories of people misusing her? It seemed likely. No one in her line of work could come out of it without scars.

"Try again, but start small, with something that may be a little less traumatic for you shall we say. Less embarrassing?" With that, Aislin looked Velvet up and down once, and the heat in the slave's cheeks burned a bit brighter; she'd been in several men's beds--granted, against her will--but this was just so much more... intimate. The slave knew that it really wasn't, but it was still strange to her. Actively placing her hands on another person for their comfort was entirely out of Velvet's realm of experience, and she couldn't see anyone enjoying the job. It was so foreign to her.

"Why don't you work on a hand? They're innocent enough," Aislin said quietly, offering her free hand while the other kept her clothing in place, "Try working the palm first, and then each finger separately. And when you finish we can switch, before moving onto the things that seem to be far more challenging for you. Just say when you are done again, and we can make the switch," The woman closed her eyes, apparently waiting for Velvet to begin. Just as she was about to reach for Aislin's hand, she spoke up again and the slave's hands fell back to her lap, "Remember to take your time as well. These things shouldn't be rushed, but not hopelessly drawn out either." The whore smiled weakly. "Take a deep breath if it helps. It's quite apparent that such things are not easy for you, and even if it were, keeping your breath measured and calm seems to help. Keeps the hands from applying too much, or too little pressure on the receiver. Or so you have just demonstrated only moments ago."

Aislin opened her eyes and studied Velvet, who shifted uneasily as she eyed the other woman's hand. If anything, this was worse than massaging her back; Velvet had to face Aislin while she did this. The woman could see how hopelessly embarrassing this whole thing was. If the slave had been a less stubborn woman, she might have given up, apologized for wasting Aislin's time, and left there and then. Fortunately, no one who truly knew Velvet thought her a woman who . Taking deep breaths as Aislin suggested, Velvet steadied her nerves. After a few ticks of awkward silence, the slave finally managed to take hold of Aislin's hands and begin kneading them with unpleasant roughness.

It took a short while before Velvet realized that she was being far too rough, possibly due to Aislin's expression making it obvious, and eased the pressure to something more comfortable. The slave continued her work, forcing herself to be excruciatingly slow. Though it had probably only been a chime or two, the awkwardness of what she was doing stretched these moments into an eternity. Her movements were slow and hesitant, but she found that it grew easier if she distracted herself by imagining that they were her hands instead of someone else's; that she was only easing the pain out of her joints after a hard day scrubbing floors, pots, and everything else that was able to collect filth. The slave kept her eyes closed as she worked, deciding it best to maintain the illusion as wholly as possible.

About four chimes later--enough time, Velvet hoped, for Aislin to be satisfied with her progress--the slave's hands paused in their motion as she looked to Aislin hopefully, "How was that?" She inquired as she released the other woman's hand and allowed her own to drop into her lap. "Did I do it right?" Hopefully, Aislin would be able to give her some advice; practice was all well and good, but if she didn't know what to practice, what good was it to her?

by **Aislin** on October 22nd, 2012, 3:10 pm

Her thumbs pressed the most firmly, perhaps because they were given ample angle to tighten their grip, whilst the palm rested against hand's underside. Cupping, so that what remained could set to work. She could feel the lightly dusted flesh pressing against her knuckles, the whirling patterns angling into the skin held taut, which rested between. She could feel the grime scraping against unblemished pale, as the slave worked to excavate her own callused epidermal layer. She could feel the raised skin brushing against her own, as dirt encrusted nail prodded. Forming lightly pressed crescents, which faded near as quickly as they had come. As the girl worked, Aislin closed her eyes, allowing herself to truly feel the sensations Cassidy served to form as her hands worked up the length of the Chaon's delicate fingers. Stretching skin as they glided along, forming indentations as she applied far too much force for such a delicate portion of the body. Perhaps, it would have been enough for her shoulders or back, but for skin scarcely spread over a multitude of ivory colored bones, it ached. "Careful," she whispered, as her lips curled into unsatisfied grin, and her eyes scrunched. "You're hurting," she finished, before falling silent, so as to be sure she didn't take away from the attempt at a massage, by distracting.

For a few chimes, the Chaon remained quiet as the slave's fingers continued to knead her hand. Gliding along its length as her free fingers idly played with the lace and strings of her corset. Twirling them about lazily as she nibbled her lower lip, and spoke again, only when directed. "The last bit was better than before," Aislin replied, as she opened her eyes. Iced irises rippling lightly as black coals smoldered with the first of its catchings. "But you forget many things. First, what part of the body you work on. The hands are smaller, slighter. You need not apply as much pressure on them as you would on the calves, the back, one's shoulders perhaps." She paused as she licked her lips, and her eyes flitted across the room. Surveying her surroundings, before returning to the girl's. Wide, captured, expectant. "You should mind how you stretch the skin as well. You tend to grind your fingers in, before pulling it to the side a time, until it is forced to snap back." She smiled softly as her eyes glimmered, and polished lip glinted against the edge of shadow. "And your nails have a tendency to dig. Not too deeply, for they have failed to split the skin, and shed crimson tears. But still, they ought to be watched."

Gracefully, the Chaon pulled her hand away, and exchanged it with the one that held her bodice in place. As her fingers flitted against ribbing, crushing the fabric against her form, the other fell onto the slave's shoulder. Where it cascaded, tracing her blade slowly before circling back up, and then down, as if to comfort. "Now try again, but on this hand," Aislin instructed, as it made a final round, before settling just in front of her. "Surely, you can manage," she said as the edge of her lip curled into a deeper smile, although something sinister, or perhaps even suggested lingered there. If only the girl bothered to take a look.