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Haellara trotted happily toward the playroom, pleased that she was finally out of the throne room. As much as she loved exercising her authority, all she could envision as she was faced with crucial decisions and doling out punishments was Kyil dancing strutting around like a peacock in his nice new clothes. Hopefully he had the sense to avoid Nuumia and avoid spoiling his clothes; perhaps she should have said something to Nuumia. Ah, no matter; there were other garments that lay perfectly safe in her own bedroom; she couldn't help but wonder which outfit he had chosen. He seemed to have moderately good taste in clothes, for a male.

Still, it hadn't been entirely boring. She had condemned three servants to the dungeons for various minor reasons, and looked over a few new recruits for her house guards. One of them had a limber frame that hinted at softness; if Nuumia was not properly learned in the next day or so, she just might take him and see if he really was as soft as he looked. If Nuumia got jealous, well, she would just have to explain to him the priveleges of being the matron mother; having access to any male in the house, whether she had a patron or not. But she would be sure and assure him that he had prominence and would always have a special place in her bed.

She wondered if Kyil had made it down to the playroom and delivered her message to Mika. With her royal permission, he probably had flown down there the instant he was dressed. Perhaps if she made haste, she would be able to catch the two by surprise in some ridiculously sentimental moment, one she could crush as though it were a roach in her hand. She wouldn't mind meeting Kyil just outside, but she did always love any extra bits of fun that Lolth tended to send her way. She knew Mika would refuse her offer; he was at least bright enough to know that her idea of freedom was the reason he had become a thief in the first place, but dangling the offer in front of both his and Kyil's noses would surely cause some friction between the two; maybe even making Kyil think that his former 'master' was not as wise as he had originally thought. Doubt was one of the strongest allies when it came to breaking ties apart.

She approached the doors to the playroom and threw them open wide, just in time to hear Kyil's voice saying, "You mentioned tea last time, yes? I will be back in just a moment!" With a vicious smile blossoming on her face, she blocked the doorway, casually remarking as though she had been there the entire time. "I'm terribly sorry, dear Kyil, but I'll have to insist upon you delaying your little mercy mission for the moment." Her eyes narrowed as she took the scene in more fully. "Is that MY lotion?" Ordering Kyil to stay with a gesture of her hand, Haellara sauntered over to the rack and peered down at Mikaril's once-again unbound form, then moved to re-strap his wrists and ankles. "Have you had time to consider my offer?" She cackled inwardly at his defiant glare. "What do you think?" she heard him growl. She merely nodded and straightened up, putting on her best somber face. "That is most.....unfortunate." She briskly crouched down and picked up the beaker beneath the rack, which was almost completely to the brim with the pain essence; apparently her brother's time spent awake had yielded good results.

Swishing the contents around, she turned her head until she was staring at Kyil with her left eye. "For future reference, I shall insist that you let Mika stick to the diet I have laid out for him." Turning back to Mikaril, she pinched his nose sharply, though he offered no resisitance as she poured the contents of the potion into his mouth. She watched him dutifully swallow, then replaced the empty beaker beneath the rack, watching her brother's pupils grow larger. Knowing that she only had a few minutes before Mika became dead to the world, she walked over to Kyil, making sure that her brother could see them both. She took the time to look Kyil over, admiring the outfit he had chosen to garb himself in. She had meant to do this as a means of adding an extra barb in the minds of both the males, but she could not deny that she was enjoying this immensely. "You did well in selecting your outfit. Despite it being made for a female, it suits you well." Shamelessly, she sauntered closer to Kyil until she was practically embracing him. She made to feel the material delicately between her fingers, then suddenly shot her hand out to grab Kyil behind the neck, holding him fast.

"I look forward to seeing the others on you. Your frame is so.....versatile." She moved her other hand down through the fabric, feeling Kyil's ribs, which her fingers reported had already nicely healed from Nuumia's butchering. "I see even the loss of your rib meat does not deter your comeliness for long." Ignoring what looks Kyil might be pulling, she turned her head toward Mikaril, a savage delight welling up inside of her as she saw him still able to comprehend his surroundings. "Do you remember that rib meat I fed you earlier Mika? Your friend here prepared it for you, in a way; he 'contributed' to it, you might easily say." She drank the look of horrific comprehension on his face before turning away and pulling away from Kyil. "To my quarters. Now." She swiftly walked out of the playroom, almost swearing she could hear the faint sound of retching behind her, and did not stop until she was at the doors to her bedroom. Letting herself and Kyil in, she walked straight to her bed and sat down upon it, prepared to give Kyil her full attention. "There are the rest of the clothes. I am waiting."

Kyil recoiled without thinking at the unexpected appearance of haellara. He had thought that he had been alone with Kyil, as he had been all those other times before. To have Haellara suddenly burst into the torture room was like suddenly being exposed to a bright flash of light. Kyil came up short and blinked as he froze like a startled animal. His hands tightened in a guilty manner upon the bottle of lotion at Haellara's less then happy exclamation. "You said...I could..." Kyil's words lacked any form of strength and he honestly doubted that they had even been heard.

Haellara's simple gesture was enough to glue Kyil's feet to the floor. His pink eyes fell to his hands as Haellara brushed on past him and to the rack in order to inspect Mikaril's unbound form. He could hear her restrapping Mikaril back up and the small dialoug exchange between the pair. When Haellara turned to eye Kyil, he had not moved from the spot that haellara had gestured at him in. His head remained bowed forwards with the bottle of lotion in his hands. His palms pressed more firmly upon the bottle as Haellara spoke of the 'diet' that she had for Mikaril. After last night...he had suspected..well..something. But his mind shied away from the flickering thought of realization. "Yes Mistress Haellara."

He could not watch as Mikaril was forced to drink the liquid Haellara had pulled from beneath the rack. He knew it by sight, knew what it's taste was. Knew what it's effects were. He had only suffered a small amount of the drink. A single swallow at best. He could not even begin to imagin what that amount of liquid would do. Kyil's pink eyes lifted a little from the floor to glance at Mikaril worriedly. Was that the reason he had been so incoherent the first time he had visited?

His thoughts shifted focus a bit from Mikaril to Haellara as he became the focus of her attention. He shifted on his feet when he noticed that Haellara was looking him over. He lifted his head, not out of any form of defiance or sudden newfound strength. No... he lifted his head so Haellara would merely have a easier time looking at him, as any well trained slave ought to do. Unfortunatly in doing so he was able to see the look on Mikaril's face better, and it was certainly a unhappy one. Kyils lips trembled only slightly at the corners of his lips with the effort to keep his features calm. He felt a unease setting in unlike anything he'd felt before.

He did not want Mikaril to see him like this. It was one thing to talk and tell him he was trying to be an obediant slave. But it was another thing entierly to actually have Mikaril see him doing such. It made him feel...dirty?

He parted his lips and spoke in a faint voice, as if he were subconsciously hoping that Mikaril would not hear what he was saying. "Thank you Mistress. I am happy that you are pleased with my apperance." Haellara's nearness helped refocus his sight from Mikaril's angry form to her own. Though she certainly had all of his attention when she moved her hand to grasp him suddenly behind the back of his head. His pink eyes widened a little as they looked up into her face and his lips parted in a slighly surprised manner. The ribs she stroked at that moment felt a icey chill spreading at her touch, and Kyil caught his breath for a few heartbeats. "Thank....you Mistress." Kyils fingers were frozen around the bottle of lotion, though he could no longer feel it between his palms for how tightly and how long he had been gripping it as such.

He couldn't look at Mikaril. He couldn't. He did not want to see what new expression might be on his face after Haellara spoke something even he had been trying hard not to acknowledge. Nuumia had giggled and cut so precisely that night. And Haellara's hinting in the bedchambers, and then even here when she spoke earlier. Now though it was spoken plainly, and he just could not bare to see the look on Mikaril's face. He wasn't certain if he was all that relieved either when she took hold of him and pulled him with her to the door. he heard the sound behind him of Mikaril being ill...Numbly he supposed it was a good thing that Mikaril voided the large quantity of liquid from his stomach...but given the information that he'd just recieved Kyil did not think Mikaril would have cared for lucidity just now.

He walked in meek compliance along with Haellara until they reached her room. He felt a bit stiff in his limbs while he stood and watched Haellara settle herself comfortably upon her bed. He cleared his throat after her direct words, and stepped up to the bed. Carefully he removed the clothing he had been wearing. There was no sense in changeing in the bathroom. As Kyil assumed Haellara wished to watch all aspects of his changeing. She'd be bored otherwise correct? Kyil's gaze was kept carefully away from Haellara. He did not wish to see her expression as he stripped down to a mere undergarment, and redonned the outfits one at a time.

Kyil tucked and tied the next outfit she had bought for him carefully. He brushed his hair back over his shoulders so as not to block the view of his body when he stepped away from the bed. Haellara had said she wished to see him model..and he did so. He turned his body in a slow circle and pulled his hair from one side to another so she could inspect him from different angles. "Does this please you Mistress?" Kyil asked, though his throat felt tight and the words almost seemed to hurt him to speak them

It was his job, his place, and it was supposed to be his pleasure to please his owner. The first two things Kyil was having a hard time with. He had managed to slip back into the compliant actions. He could make his body obay and act as he knew he was supposed to. But...the last? Kyil glanced over at Haellara. The smile coupled with Haellara's obvious delight and lust should have given him a sense of satisfaction and contentment. He felt...satisfaction? A little bit of it. He felt a sense of content in the cloths he wore. They were soft and he felt almost whole. All he needed was a bit of some sort of calm pleaseing scent and some adornments like earrings and necklaces and he'd feel like himself. Yet at the same time he was unhappy with these feelings.

Kyil had begun to come to terms with something. As haellara held up her hand, he came to a attentive stand. His pink eyes were focused on her with a sort of attention he had not placed upon any other who had commanded him before. In the past he had accepted his place in the Black. It was all he knew, it had been his home. Then Zariira took him home, and Kyil had discovered something he had not been aware he had even learned. The joy of serving one individual. The pleasure that came with making them happy. Of thinking of just one person and tailoring himself to appeal to them. It was a subtle change from serving multiple drow, so it had not occured to him that any change had happened at all. The change of his surroundings and the conditions of his service had definatly influenced him.

He had pined for Zariira. A part of him still did. It was a small scar that would be with him the rest of his life. The lesson he could not please everyone all the time. It was a odd realization. He did not like it, but perhaps that was the entier point? Since then his surroundings had changed dramatically. He had done things that he had noever thought himself capable of. There still lingered that deep desire to please someone. At least one person. He had found that in Mikaril. But oh! How deep this feeling went! Mikaril had shown him more then he ever thought exsisted. Kyil suspected that there was something more that he was feeling, something more that he had learned at least subconsciously. It would only require time for him to realize what it was.

So now here he stood. Listening to Haellara complimenting him in the clothing she had bought. He kept his eyes upon her as he felt her hand touch upon his shoulder, and then her fingertips began to dig in unpleasently. Kyil instantly felt the urge to drop his eyes, and he did so. "I apologize Mistress. I tried to convince Mikaril but...he was convinced that your promise was false. He would not believe otherwise." Kyil did not, and would not, contradict Haellara's words. He could have informed her of the exact wording that had allowed for him to act as he had. That would have only angered her though, he was certain. "Yes Mistress. I will not make such a err again." he spoke softly.

Haellara released his shoulder, and once she turned he lifted his hand to rub his palm over the pin p***k points of pain left behind from her fingernails. His eyes slifted as well and he glanced at her back. He did not feel sorry. He did not...he did not feel anxiety or any form of remorse or guilt? He sould have, he had dissappointed his Mistress. Had it been Zariira surely he would have begged for her forgiveness as well along with a promised her that he would not displease her again.

He felt no concern over displeaseing Haellara beyond the repurcussions it could have on Mikaril. That was wrong. It was very wrong, and this was the feeling that perplexed him.

With sweat beading on his face, Mikaril barely registered the quiet patter of a servant coming in and cleaning up the sick, lest it offend the Matron Mother's delicate nose. Had he been able to think on it, he might have found it funny; the chemical and fluid smells were enough to overwhelm the nastiest smell. But as it was, he was influenced enough by the drug to linger in a dream-like state where he culdn't remember his own name, much less the name of his tormentor. He could still feel pain, though his body felt thick and sluggish, as though it were encased in glue.

He vaguely heard Haellara opening the door, but as he laid eyes on his sister, his eyes went huge. He saw a nightmarish creature standing before him, with eyes that blazed fire and wings of a dark blue that sprouted from her back. She didn't seem to have any sort of covering, but her entire frame looked gaunt, like a tortured demon. Her mouth opened wide to reveal elongated fangs, and her white-gold hair framed her head like tongues of the hottest flame. In his mind-altered state, Haellara looked like a cast-off succubus, looking to vent her rage at being cast aside out on some unlucky mortal.

He heard her voice as she spoke to him, but all that reached his ears was a moaning hiss that he couldn't understand. He saw her mutter a curse that caused her very form to emanate a Hellish red hue, and he felt an eerie sensation come over his body, as though his skin had been stretched just slightly; enough to be noticeable, but not enough to really hurt. He then saw her pick up a whip with many different tails and winced as she brought the whip down, bony arm extended. He expected to feel the sting and sudden sharp realization of his skin opening up like a torn leather vest, but he felt nothing. Surprised, he opened an eye in time to see her strike him a second time. Again, nothing. Feeling only curiousity, he watched as it came down again and again, lashing his legs, stomach, chest, and arms. A few times he even swore he saw her whip catch on something and struggle to free it, but instead of the tearing of skin and the spray of blood, there was simply nothing as she freed it and proceeded to lash again.

It must have been two dozen times before she finally ceased. Mikaril was still wondering what the point had been, his mind slow from the liquid pain, when suddenly, he saw her make a strange sort of motion with her clawed hand, and as he looked down his body, all of the places where she had whipped opened at once. The pain got through the drugged cloudiness of his senses and caused him to widen his eyes and scream as loud as his body could produce. He watched his entire front erupt in vibrant red, skin opening in long, wide gashes and proceeding to hang in ribbons. In his influenced vision, his entire body seemed to be falling apart in a spray of blood, and it was both excruciating and terrifying.

He begged for the blackness to take him, but it seemed like hours before he felt the loss enough to see the darkness creeping into the edge of his vision. He heard Haellara's altered voice somewhere near his ear and felt the all-too-familiar feel of a glass vial stuck into his mouth. He drak it greedily, causing him to choke, and he heard a gutteral laugh somewhere to his left. When his vision finally cleared, his sister had returned to her normal form, and he watched in horror as gaping wounds all over his front stitched themselves back together, hiding muscle and bone once more. He saw Haellara lean down to inspect the pain vial, and when she rose, her eyes were shining with happiness. "You filled it almost all the way up! That must have felt terrible."

Still too shaken to do anything other than play back in his mind his own skin mending itself, he barely felt the clamp that Haellara inserted to hold his mouth open, nor the piece of thick string she dangled until it was right on the back of his tongue, which was attached to a specially made bottle, designed to pour its contents out in drips. Haellara had filled the bottle with the pain, and under the power of a levitation spell, it hovered above his head, dripping red-orange pain onto the string and right down his throat. He saw her out of the corner of his eye lean close, whisper "Sweet dreams" into his ear, and leave him to his long night of pain, though not near enough for the comfort of oblivion.

Inside the room Kyil had remained standing and watching as Haellara opened the door. He caught a glimpse of Nuumia through the door. His wondering about why the small male would be on his hands and knee's outside the door lost it's importance as he heard haellara giving Nuumia permission to have him. His pink eyes widened, and at the eager approch of the fear inspireing male Kyil found himself backing away.

Nuumia happily approched Kyil, the fearful look upon his face was utterly delightful. Bouncing on his tes, he snatched at some of Kyils pretty white hair, and gave it a viscious tug forwards. Kyil cried out at the pain of having his hair pulled and leaned towards the direction of Nuumia's clutching fist.

"Lord please! Not so hard!" He spoke pleadingly, and recieved in response a happy and light hearted sounding laugh.

"Aw, don't start begging yet slave. We haven't even started playing yet!" Nuumia cheerfully replied and he led Kyil from Haellara's room by his hair. Nuumia paused only for a moment to nudge haellara's door closed, as she had told him to, and then he continued down the hall. Nuumia led Kyil like a dog on a leash, useing his hair to pull him along and enjoying the small sounds of pain each tug resulted in.

They reached Nuumia's own rooms in short order, much to Kyil's growing distress. Nuumia released Kyil's hair only once they were behind his closed and locked door. Nuu gave Kyil a harsh push towards his bed. His smile had begun to take on the unpleasent twist that Kyil was unfortunatly growing all too familar with. Kyil lifted his hands as he felt the backs of his leg's striking the edge of Nuumia's bed.

"I'll bet you think your something special." Nuumia spat as he looked at the uncomfortable expression on Kyil's face. But he wasn't fooled. Oh no. He was certain Kyil was only pretending. He had to be planning something, and Nuumia was growing suspicious he knew what that was!

"Lord. I'm only a slave." Kyil meekly responded to Nuumia's angry words.

"I'm only a slave. I'm only a slave." Nuumia repeated Kyil's words in a mocking tone. His hands lifted and waved to either side of his face. In the space of a second Nuumia dropped his mocking and leapt upon Kyil. Nuumia's small fingers gripped surpriseingly tightly about Kyil's neck as the weight of his body topped and bore the pink eyed male to the surface of his bed. "I know what your doing! You don't fool me! You want her to pick you! You want her to pick you!" Nuumia accused Kyil as he tightened his grip on Kyil's windpipe.

Kyil laid upon the bed, his pink eyes widening as he felt Nuumia tightening his grip and choking off his ability to speak. For a moment his fingers twitched at his sides and his elbows half lifted. Then they fell back, as he allowed Nuumia to continue unchallenged. It was Kyil's lack of resistance that caused Nuumia's fingers to loosen. That and the fact that Kyil had closed his eyes. "Stupid slave." Nuumia growled and released Kyil's neck. His personal disgust and hatred could be detected within those two angry words.

Kyil opened his eyes only after Nuumia had taken his hands from his throat. He felt himself shaking, even after he had regained his breath. Nuumia's black eyes seemed so unbelieveably hateful, Kyil half expected black tears of poison to drip from the corners from the force of his angry glare. In the silence that followed Nuumia spat at the unquestioning male pinned beneath his knees. "You can't have her."

"I don't want her." Kyil finally spoke. His words shook. more from his own surprise at speaking them then anything else. Nuumia responded to Kyil's answer with a sharp back hand and more angry words.

"Idiot! Moron! You should want her! You are just a pathetic pleasure slave!! Matron Haellara could give you a lot more with her favor!" Nuumia leaned forwards and placed his hands upon Kyil's shoulders as he growled the words into that pretty face.

"I do not want her favor. I do not want anything from her." Kyil managed to stop himself from finishing his reply. No. he wanted nothing from Haellara. All he wanted was Mikaril. He wanted Mikaril's favor. He wanted Mikaril's approval. He wanted Mikaril to finish training him and to be a part of his gang. Now that Lady Zariira no longer wanted him...the only thing Kyil had left to cling to was Mikaril. He wanted to be with him, to serve him...to be his friend even.

Nuumia had not struck him again, and Kyil pulled his thoughts from his friend and back to the small black male that..was...pouting? Kyil blinked at Nuumia's weirdly childish [removed]((To be Completed... ninja ))