Hiraeth

Chapter 1: Isekai

Another story I've been working on, I'm posting it while I deal with writer's block on Roommates. Yes, I have about a dozen different stories, three of them full-length novels, all going at the same time. This is the only one that fits in /elit/ though.

Tags: isekai, medieval fantasy, slavery, bondage, sex, interspecies romance, Stockholm syndrome, medieval economics, politics

The following contains scenes of adult situations and graphic violence not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.

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To say I was someone dissatisfied with life is an understatement. I was never a very happy person. As a child, I had few friends, and most of the ones I did have either moved away at some point, or stabbed me in the back. It still irritates to this day, every time I remember how my 'friend' Jason bragged to me about selling his buddy Ron a damaged copy of Tomb Raider he knew didn't work... and he'd actually sold it to me. He wasn't just an asshole for selling me a game he knew was too scratched up to play, he couldn't tell me and Ron apart from each other. We were interchangeable. I'd thought he was my best friend, and that's how little I meant to him.

High school was a drag. I consistently had the highest grades in my class, all while barely putting any effort in. Between my being a nerd and everyone else being jealous of my grades (seriously, I had a straight A average and the second best kid struggled to maintain a B average. The American education system is a joke. School is nothing but a convenient place to warehouse children while their parents are at work, with the added benefit of being government indoctrination centers. The actual education part is a distant second in terms of priority.), I got picked on a lot. I mean, a LOT. The one and only time some asshole tried to get physical with me, I kicked his ass. I'd been taking karate lessons since grade school, but I didn't even use any of that; I just knocked him to the ground after he hit me, then beat his face in with a rock. I, uh, might have gone a little overboard. To be fair, he started it, and I had YEARS of pent up anger and frustration, and I was well and truly sick of his shit by that point. Once I was done being suspended from school (I honestly think the only reason I wasn't expelled was because I had singlehandedly raised the GPA for the entire class and it made them look good), everyone knew what had happened. So they ignored me. Instead of constantly mocking me, messing with my desk, and basically being jerks, they simply pretended I didn't exist. I was fine with that. I just sat in the back of the class and read science fiction and fantasy novels all day; the teachers didn't care, so long as I kept acing the standardized tests they passed around every month or so like holy writ.

Then off to college. I got a useless degree in history, racked up a massive amount of student loan debt I had no hope of paying off for at least a decade, went on a few casual dates with female acquaintances and then got to hear the 'let's just be friends' speech every time, joined a fraternity where half the guys thought I was awesome (because I could write an A+ research paper for $20 the night before it was due) and the other half barely tolerated my existence, blew a three foot crater in the lawn outside the cafeteria with some old fireworks, and went out into the real world.

The real world sucks. For those of you who are still young and in school, no, it doesn't get easier. It never gets easier. Life is one long, painful trudge, where you can't wait for the torment to be over, then when it finally ends and you move on to the next phase of your life, you discover that the previous one really wasn't that bad in comparison and now the REAL pain has begun. The only easy day was yesterday. I spent a couple years trying to get a job with my degree, only to discover that nobody gives a crap about a history major unless you have a PHD. At which point, you simply go into academia and give lectures to kids trying to get a history degree. Actually, now that I think about it, most college degrees are like herpes; they exist solely to be passed on to others. Herpes with $100,000 in student loan debt backed by the government, so you can never get out of it even if you declare bankruptcy, flee the country, or do anything short of dying. You're a wage slave for life, hurray!

I bounced around from job to job, trying to find SOMETHING that would turn into a decent career that paid well enough to support me. Yeah, no luck. At least not until I realized that instead of college, I should have gone to a trade school and learned to weld or something. Seriously, those guys make bank. So I signed on and became an electrician. Worked my ass off basically being a construction worker all day, bending pipe, mounting boxes, pulling wire, digging trenches, that sort of thing, and then went to school at night studying to become a journeyman electrician. I hated math as a kid, but discovered it wasn't too terrible when you could actually use it for something other than passing a mind-numbing standardized test; Ohm's law, voltage drop, junction box capacity, amperage, it was all kinda cool, and most of it I ended up using on the job. It was still hard work, and I was years away from becoming a journeyman and making decent money, but it paid the bills. Most of them. Well, at least the ones that kept the lights on and my car fueled. My third-hand, five year old car driven by a single mother who had no idea what an oil change was or why all the lights on the dashboard were lit up. But hey. I was 28 years old, and if things weren't great, at least they were better than being stabbed in the eye. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes I was undecided on whether or not an ice pick to the eyeball would really be all that bad in comparison to how my day was going.

I still had no social life. Very few friends I could see face to face, and most of them lived on the opposite side of town, so they were hard to hang out with. Plus they had lives of their own, so our schedules often didn't work out. Zero luck in the romance department too; the only female coworker I had was a black lesbian (who was actually pretty cool, but in no way a romantic option), none of my friends knew any single women, and when I spent a year or so going back to church, I hopped from church to church hoping to find one with a solid singles group. They all consisted solely of men. Literally every female I considered even remotely eligible was married. My dad actually urged me to ask out the single mom living in the apartment next to mine; sorry, I'm not going to raise somebody else's kids, nor am I going to clean up somebody else's shitstorm of a life. She's a single mom for a reason: she makes terrible life choices. Oh, online dating? Yeah. Any halfway attractive woman I messaged never replied. Not. A. Single. One. The ones who messaged me first? Every one was either a ham planet covered in sixty tattoos, or, you guessed it, a single mom with two mulatto kids looking for a sugar daddy to clean up the explosive shitstorm that was her life. No thanks.

So, all in all, I wasn't a happy person. Some days were more tolerable than others, but they were usually the ones where I just sat in my apartment watching anime or some scifi show that went off the air years ago, or reading a book. I picked up a few hobbies here and there; I built Gundam models, my past with karate led me to join a medieval martial arts group and learn how to fight with medieval weaponry (I had a functional zweihander, but still couldn't afford a full set of armor; and it was really hard finding someone who would make a functional wheellock pistol so I could complete my Thirty Years War outfit.), I went camping, hunting, and hiking on a regular basis, and since I didn't have a girlfriend to sponge money off me I spent the rest of my disposable income (which there wasn't a lot of to begin with) on guns. I love guns. I have rifles from both World Wars, and several other major conflicts. I considered getting into historical reenactments, but buying the uniforms and all the equipment was just too expensive, much like my armor. But these were all pretty much just solitary hobbies. My only real time spent interacting with people was on the internet.

I went to the chans, of course. I could shitpost with the best of them. I visited various hobby sites and forums for gun enthusiasts, militaria hobbyists, and scifi nerds, and avoided social media like the plague.

But the website I spent the most time on, of course, was Hiraeth.

Hiraeth is a Welsh word with no exact translation into any other language, but it roughly means a deep longing or homesickness for a place that may not even exist. The banner for the forum has an astronaut, in spacesuit, standing in the middle of a field of flowers with the text "homesick for a place I'm not even sure exists". The owner went by the name Saudade, a Portugeuse word roughly meaning "a nostalgia or sad longing for a place, person, or time period that no longer exists and you can never return to". His avatar was an astronaut laying on a bare mattress next to a bottle of antidepressants. Saudade often went on long rants about how "we could have colonized Mars by now, but noooo, we had to pay for the welfare state instead!" Or "did you know we had the technology to build an O'Neill Island 3 space colony in the 1970's? And the cost to build a space colony capable of housing over a million people and producing all the food and air they need to survive is less than we spend on welfare every year? Our infrastructure is crumbling, our space program went from walking on the moon to bragging about sending the first gay, transsexual, black, Hispanic, Muslim, paraplegic Eskimo into orbit... on a Russian rocket, because our space program doesn't even launch its own fucking rockets anymore." Yeah, I remember his exact rants because they were all the same. My screen name was Sehnsucht, incidentally. If you're wondering what it means, just look up hiraeth or saudade and you'll get the idea, but in German. My avatar was a man being abducted by a flying saucer with the text "I want to leave".

Everyone on the forum was someone like me: someone dissatisfied with their life, longing for another world, an alternate reality, a might-have-been. We discussed alternate history; what if Hitler had won World War 2, or the Roman Empire hadn't broken up and collapsed, or India had discovered the wonders of indoor plumbing. We discussed what the modern world might be like if we'd actually developed all the cool technology from the 60's and 70's, like gyrojet pistols, the Orion Project (a spaceship that flies by farting out nuclear bombs; it's awesome, look it up), space colonization, Ronald Reagan's idea for a space defense system, or the HK G11. We discussed fantasy worlds, like those of Tolkien, Burroughs, Lovecraft, or how basically any story is a better love story than Twilight. Essentially, we discussed anything that would distract us from the real world we hated so much, and the alternate realities we would much prefer to live in.

It was an entertaining way to pass the time, chatting with likeminded losers who hated their lives, getting into passionate arguments about history, the future, and more. But that's all it was; a distraction. Sooner or later, usually around midnight, I'd have to tear myself away from the computer and return to the real world.

One day, I logged into Hiraeth to kill some time while getting ready for a camping trip. I had a three day weekend, and I'd promised to take my nephew camping; it wasn't his fault my sister (his mom) was a stupid whore and his dad was an absent, dope-dealing dipshit, and if anything his childhood sucked harder than mine had, so I played the responsible uncle and tried to give him some happiness in life. He wanted to go camping, and I said yes. He also wanted to shoot my Luger and Mauser broomhandle, which I also said yes to; partly to try to infect him with a love for history and firearms, but mostly because I knew his mother would be pissed off when she found out later.

All my stuff was already packed into my massive, army-surplus ALICE backpack, and I was just waiting for my sister to drop the kid off at my apartment so we could go. She probably wouldn't even come knock on the door or say hello, just kick him out of the car and drive off so she could go do whatever it is irresponsible dipshit women do in their spare time. I seriously feel sorry for that kid.

So I started browsing Hiraeth, noting irritably that my sister was running half an hour late already, when I noticed I had a private message from some guy who went by Mephistopheles. I'd seen him post once or twice in some of the bigger threads, but I didn't think I'd ever interacted with him directly.

The message was simple: "Not happy with this world? Why not try living in a different one?" There was a link at the bottom.

Curious, I clicked the link. It opened another browser window.

"What sort of world would you like to live in?"

There were a bunch of different categories. Prehistoric, medieval, steampunk, dieselpunk, futuristic scifi, and more. Once you picked a general genre or time period, another list of options popped up narrowing it down even further. Region, time period, magic, technology, or both, politics, religion, high fantasy or low, hard science or soft, and more.
What is all this? A survey? A browser game of some sort? I glanced at the time, checked my phone to see if my worthless sister had ever responded to any of my texts asking where she was, and shrugged. Why not? Might as well kill some time.

So it specifically mentioned that my 'new world' wouldn't be an exact copy of a real time or place, but 'the closest thing available'. Whatever that meant. So for region, I selected central Europe, and I fiddled with the time period, politics, religion, and other settings to try to roughly approximate the Thirty Years War, which took place from 1618 to 1648. I'm not going to explain it at all to you, go read the Wikipedia article or something. I wanted magic, but not too powerful compared to technology. It also asked if I was ok with 'fantasy races'; assuming that meant things like elves and dwarves, I said yes. It even wants me to pick a language to be proficient in; I pick some nonsense word that comes with a descriptor "a language spoken by nobles, clergy, and those from well-bred, well-educated families", rather than another nonsense word claiming to be "the common tongue". I guess I just picked the fantasy equivalent of medieval Latin.

Having wasted a good twenty minutes fiddling with the settings and texting my sister another two times to ask where the hell she was, I was more or less satisfied with the settings for 'my world'. The game or whatever it was was a bit scant on the actual details, but assuming it actually generated a game world similar to my settings, it should actually be an interesting way to waste my time. God knows that's all I've done with my life so far, whether I wanted to or not.

I clicked the button acknowledging that I was done with my settings and a new notification popped up.

"You will now be transported to the world you have specified. Are you certain you wish to proceed?"

I was sure it was either going to send me to a browser game or infect my computer with a virus, but I pretended it was really going to magically transport me to another world. Why not. I was bored and getting increasingly frustrated with my sister failing, yet again, to take others into consideration and try to show up when she said she would.

Ah, but if it's a psuedo-medieval fantasy world, shouldn't I be prepared? Rolling my eyes at my own antics, I fetched my fully functional zweihander off the wall and put on my backpack with its seventy or so pounds of equipment and consumables. No, I do not pack light for camping trips; I like to come prepared, the surplus equipment I can afford is often heavier than the ultra-modern backpacking gear, and I work in construction so I don't mind the weight. Then I paused a moment.

What's the most valuable thing I could bring with me back to the 1600's? Modern technology like my phone or computer would be worthless without a way to charge them, and there'd be no way to copy them with the technology of the era. I pulled my grandfather's silver pocket watch out of my desk drawer, hooked the chain to my belt loop and stuck it in my pocket; they had clocks in the early 1600's, but the pocket watch didn't catch on until the very late 1600's, early 1700's, and even then took several more decades to become available to commoners rather than the wealthy. Introducing a 'modern' pocket watch (from the 1880's; my grandfather had bought it used, obviously) to that era and then copying its design could prove useful. But what else?

My eyes roamed my desk and shelves of nicknacks, models, and junk, and I spotted a dusty stack of twenty or so aluminum coins. Each one had a different Olympic athlete on it, and they'd been minted to commemorate the Olympics about ten years back. Someone had given them to me for free, and once I'd ascertained they had next to no collector's value, they'd been gathering dust on a shelf ever since. But they were aluminum.

Aluminum, as a metal, hadn't been discovered until the early 1800's, if I remembered correctly. Alum had been known since ancient times, of course, but nobody knew aluminum was a metal until quite recently, historically speaking. While aluminum is one of the most common elements in Earth's crust, it is almost impossible to find it naturally as a pure metal. Unlike copper or iron, you can't just heat up the ore and get pure metal to melt out of it, you have to purify the aluminum chemically or with electricity. Until the very late 19th century, when a new method of purifying it was discovered, aluminum metal was exceedingly rare and much more valuable than gold. Napoleon III was rumored to have served honored dinner guests with aluminum utensils, while less favored guests had to make do with gold. The capstone of the Washington Monumen was the largest piece of cast aluminum in the world when it was made. In 1867, when mass production of aluminum began, it was valued at 300 French francs per kilogram, or a little over $80 in the same period. In the 1860's, a blacksmith working 60 hour weeks earned around $10, so he'd have to work for eight weeks straight, without spending a single cent of his income on food or other necessities, to purchase a kilogram of aluminum. Gold at the time was about $20 per ounce, so he'd earn four ounces of gold in the same time period. A far cry from earlier, when aluminum was more valuable than gold. An ounce of gold today is between $1,400 and $1,600. A Colt Model 1860 Army revolver was $60 at the time, but that was because the company was price gouging the Union army since there was a massive demand for pistols during the Civil War. A pack horse was about $25, but a high end riding horse would go for as much as $75. A plantation slave, in the prime of his life and ready to pick fields of cotton, went for around $800.

So my aluminum would be extremely valuable if I took it to a time and place resembling 1600's Europe. I picked up the stack of coins and stuck them in a side pocket of my backpack. Why not? I could show them to my nephew and give him a lesson on the history of aluminum and how the cheapest, most common metal in the world was once the rarest and most valuable. Maybe he'd like the coins more than me.

That done, I hit the "yes" button on the browser.

"WARNING: Once you go to the world you have specified, returning will be extremely difficult or impossible. You may never see your home or loved ones again. Do you still wish to proceed?"

What's this? It's really acting as if I'm about to be transported to an alternate reality?

Amused, I click "yes".

"FINAL WARNING: You cannot undo this. If you continue, you must live with the consequences of your decision. Do you still wish to proceed?"

Boy, they're really milking this for all it's worth, aren't they. C'mon, get to the game already. Unless you're telling me there is no game and this is all a stall tactic to delay disappointing me with the revelation that there is no game, or there is but I have to pay to play. I mean, I'm just wasting time screwing around right now, so I wouldn't be too terribly disappointed.

I click "yes" and my ass immediately hits the ground as if my chair vanished out from underneath it.

My mouth gapes open in shock for a moment as my eyes go from the dim glow of my computer screen to a bright, sunny day outdoors. My butt hurts, as if I'd just dropped from a seated position to the ground while wearing a 70 pound backpack full of camping gear and a broadsword slung over my shoulder. In fact, that's exactly what happened.

I'm outdoors. I'm sitting in the middle of a dirt road in the woods. My brain bluescreens for a moment.

Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

What.

The.

FUCK.

What. What. DOES NOT COMPUTE.

Am I camping with my nephew now, and I somehow forgot everything between now and when I clicked "yes" on that stupid browser game? Did I have a stroke? What?

I look around, but I don't see my nephew anywhere. I glance at my watch and... it's only a couple minutes since I last looked at my watch. I stand up, with some difficulty due to the backpack and giant sword, and pull my phone out of the cargo pocket of my pants. It confirms the time displayed by my watch, and the date.

What the hell? How did I get here? Where is here? I unlock my phone and... no signal. Of course. I open up the GPS function, since that doesn't need cell service to work, and... no signal. It's a clear day, perfect weather, and I'm out in the open, how is there no signal from the satellites?

Irritated, I jam my phone back into my pocket and look around. I slap my face once or twice, then rub my hand against a tree. Yep. This is all real. I'm not hallucinating. Possibly someone slipped me some drugs and dropped me here as a prank, but I'm thinking no.

So how the hell did I get here? Unless...

No. Not possible. That sort of thing can't happen. At least, not outside of a bad seasonal anime or fanfiction.

Beginning to grow seriously pissed at whatever or whoever is responsible for this, I doublecheck all of my gear. It's all here. And my HK USP Compact pistol is still holstered on my hip. I have a concealed carry license and I'm in the wilderness, so it pays to be prepared. Except now I have to factor in possible kidnappers too. I rearrange my shirt and the camouflage army jacket I'm wearing so the pistol is more exposed and easier to get to. I also make sure I have a firm grip on my zweihander I have resting on one shoulder; that's going to get old real quick. I don't have a sheath for it, and even if I did the sword is too large to draw from a scabbard quickly or easily if I'm surprised by a wild animal or resourceful kidnapper with a penchant for bizarre pranks; historically, soldiers carried them just as I was doing, unsheathed and resting atop one shoulder. But I'm not a medieval soldier. I'm an electrician on a camping trip. And if someone was going to magic me into a forest somewhere as some sort of demented joke, why bring the giant sword along?

I look around me and all I see are trees and the dirt road stretching off in front of me and behind me. There's nothing to see in either direction. The sun appears to be the right height for mid-morning, agreeing with my watch, so that must be east. I pull out my compass and confirm. Then the road heads roughly north and south. North is the direction I was originally facing when I arrived here, wherever here is. So, having nothing better to go off of, I shrug and start walking.

I check my phone every ten minutes or so, but still no phone service or GPS signal. I've been walking for over an hour and there's been nothing but trees the whole way. Just as I start to consider turning back and heading the other direction, the trees start to thin out; I'm either coming to a clearing, or the edge of the woods.

Stepping out, I pause. It's definitely the edge of the woods. Ahead, I see open fields gradually transitioning into the squares and rectangles of farmland. And ahead, in the distance, what appears to be a city or town. There are lots of buildings, anyway. I check my phone again, grimace, and put it back in my pocket. Onward and upward, I suppose.

It's not until I've covered about half the distance between the woods and city that I encounter an actual person. He is the very picture of a country bumpkin. His clothes are made of undyed cloth, stained and threadbare, with a straw hat and a weed or something sticking out of his mouth that he's chewing on while eyeing me with casual interest. He must be the farmer, I suppose.

He shouts what sounds like a friendly greeting, but consists entirely of gibberish. His accent is weird; it's not quite German, maybe Italian? I didn't understand a word of it.

"Hello there. Do you speak English?"

I'm greeted with a blank stare.

"English? No?

He slowly eyes me up and down, apparently paying great attention to my clothes and the massive sword on my shoulder, then takes his ridiculous hat off and bows.

What?

Then he straightens and says something apologetic sounding.

"So you don't speak English? Where is this?"

He shakes his head and says something else that still sounds like an apology.

"Se habla Espanol? Sprechen sie Deutsch? Russki? Nihonjin? Ching chong ping pong? Any of this make sense to you?"

He looks at me helplessly, then points at the town.

"Yes, I see it. Town. Could I maybe get a ride the rest of the way there? This backpack is really heavy."

I'm greeted with a blank expression.

"Ride?"

I imitate driving a car and he gives me the same blank look.

"Ok, you look dirt poor, maybe not a car. Horse? Do you have a horse?"

I whinny like a horse and pretend I'm riding one. He makes an expression of sudden understanding... then shakes his head and says some gibberish that sounds suspiciously like what someone would say if they were telling me they didn't have a horse, but there was a language barrier between us. Probably because there was a language barrier between us and he didn't have a horse.

"Ok, no ride then. Looks like I'm walking still. Great. Thanks. Have a nice day, Farmer Brown," I say, giving him a wave as I walk on my merry way.

"Where the fuck am I?"

I'm still pondering that as I approach the city. Yep, it's definitely a city. Complete with a wall and a massive, wooden gate at the road. There's two guys wearing kettle helmets and dull, but rust-free, breastplates and holding spears standing on either side of the gate, looking bored. They watch, unmoving, as I slowly trudge my way up the road to the gate until I finally get about twenty feet away.

One guard says something in gibberish to me and I shake my head, hoping to convey that I don't understand.

"I don't suppose you guys speak English either?"

The older of the two guards straightens up and says, in broken English, "Speak Hratchan. Some. You travel?"

"Yes, I'm traveling. Where am I?"

The guard looks at me with a slightly confused expression, briefly says something in gibberish, then answers, "You know city?"

"Sure. What city is this?"

"Girdan," he responds, with a soft g and somehow both dragging the word out and cutting it short. Like an Italian saying "buongiorno", but without the exagerrated arm movements.

"Girdan. Ok. What country is this?"

He looks at the other guard for a moment, then replies, "Country?"

"Yes. What country is this?"

"Is principality of Ossetria. You no know that?"

"No. I'm a traveler. I've never been here before."

"What is business, of travel?" He points at my zweihander. "Sell sword?"

Is he asking if I came here to sell my sword? Or if I'm a sellsword- a mercenary? I shrug as casually as I can and reply, "No. Is there an inn nearby I can stay at? I'm very tired."

In point of fact, I could have walked for several more hours, even under my heavy load, but I wanted to rest and get my bearings. And especially find out what the hell was going on and where I was. I was beginning to suspect this was all real and not an elaborate prank.

"Inn?" The guard looks me up and down, seeming to focus on the clothes like the farmer had. "Want good inn. No bad inn, get robbed. Boy come, show you."

He shouted something unintelligible and a boy of about seven or eight, barefoot and filthy, ran out of a nearby doorway set in the wall near the gate. The guard pointed at me and said something curt, then gestured for me to follow the kid.

"Go boy. Show you good inn. Good day, lord."

"Uh, good day to you too. Thanks."

He mumbles something vaguely like a dismissal and returns to his spot by the gate, eyeing the other guard and gesturing at me with his chin. The other guard, who hasn't spoken a word the entire time, shrugs and goes back to staring disinterestedly at the farmer's fields in the distance.

I follow the kid, who seems to be leading me through progressively nicer looking streets; the people gradually get cleaner, more colorful clothing, and the buildings are in better condition, larger, and more elaborate. The architecture definitely seems authentic to Europe around the 1600's.

I don't see a single sign of modern technology; no street lights, no cars, nobody is on their phone, no power lines, no satellite dishes, nothing. Everything looks authentic. Am I really in some fantasy universe? How did I get here? None of this seems real. It's like I'm stumbling through an exceptionally vivid dream.

I try asking the kid a few questions, but he just looks at me and shrugs in a way that seems to convey 'sorry, I don't understand'. Ok, the guard spoke some broken English, but nobody else here does?

Eventually we arrive outside a three story building. It honestly looks pretty neat. It has all the squares and angles of medieval European architecture, a slate roof, whitewashed exterior, wooden shutters on all the windows. There's even some ivy growing on one corner of the building. It looks like something straight out of a Renaissance painting.

The kid points at the building, then runs off back in the direction we came from. I guess this is the inn.

Stepping up to the door, it took me a moment to figure out how I was even supposed to open the thing. Instead of a door knob, the door was simply a smooth plane of polished wood. There was a string hanging out of a hole in the center of the door that I initially assumed was tied to a bell, but when I pulled it, instead of a bell ringing I heard a wooden scraping sound on the other side of the door.

Oh, it's a string latch. There were a variety of methods of securing a door before door knobs were invented in the late 1800's, and this was one of the most common. It made sense. When you needed to open the door, you pulled the string and it lifted up a lever that was barring the door shut, allowing it to open. When you wanted to prevent someone from opening the door and coming inside, you simply pulled the string inside; locks were expensive.

Feeling pleased with myself for having figured it out quickly enough that nearby witnesses wouldn't think I was some kind of idiot who couldn't figure out how to open a door, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. As I pushed it closed, the wooden lever dropped back into position with a loud CLACK and barred the door shut. Seems I was right.

I looked around the room. It was fairly well lit by the open windows on two sides, none of which had glass in them, but there was a chandelier with a half a dozen lanterns hanging from it in the center of the room and several wall sconces with candles, I guess for when it got dark outside. The right side of the room had several wooden tables with benches, and a couple smaller tables with chairs. A cat was sleeping on one of the smaller tables, basking in the sunlight, and an old man was seated at another, intently carving a little wooden figurine of some sort. The left side of the room was taken up by a long bar, behind which stood a man wearing a full length apron, polishing some stoneware mugs. There was a set of stairs in the back of the room, and a doorway leading into what looked to be a kitchen area next to the bar.

I walked over to the bar and set my sword down, leaning it against the countertop. The man raised one eyebrow as he looked at it, but didn't comment.

"Uh, is there a room available?"

"Ah, you speak Hratchan. Good day, m'lord. Yes, I have rooms available. Not very many guests at the moment, so you can have your pick of rooms, if you like. How long will you be staying?"

I pondered that question for a moment. I also thought about how I was going to pay for a room. I had about $100 in my wallet to pay for anything I needed on my camping trip, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't recognize American dollar bills as viable currency. I was also quite certain he didn't take Visa. The coins in my pocket amounted to less than a dollar, and were probably considered worthless here; in 1965, we switched from silver coins to copper coins clad in nickel, and in 1982 even our pennies quit being made of copper and were instead copper-clad zinc. The only 'real' money I had on me was a silver dollar I habitually carried as a good luck piece.

Digging it out, I pass the silver dollar to him and ask, "How long will this get me?"

He raises his eyebrow again and examines the coin closely.

"Mmm, very fine detail, well made, but I've never seen a coin like this before. Do you know its composition?"

"Nine-tenths silver, one-tenth copper. It's from my homeland."

"Ah. That would explain your accent. Well..." He bounces the coin in his palm a couple times, feeling the weight of it. "Assuming the composition is true, this would get you a week, plus meals."

"I see. How many meals?"

"Breakfast is only for guests staying at the inn, and is served from just before sunrise to an hour after sunrise. Dinner is served an hour before sunset to an hour after sunset. Lunch is at noon, but costs extra."

"I see. I don't think I'll need any meals for the moment," I say, thinking of the food in my pack. It's enough for me and my nephew for three days, so it should last one person a week, particularly if I skip lunch.

"Very well. One moment."

He ducks under the counter and I hear what sounds like a box full of change rattling around. He pops back up and hands me half a dozen silver coins. They're about the size of a quarter, but really thin. The edges are scalloped; one side has the bust of a man on it, presumably the local monarch, and the other side has some text I can't read. Since he asked me what the metal composition of my coin was, it's probably a good idea to ask him about these.

"Four-tenths silver, six-tenths copper."

As I thought. A silver dollar isn't just a bigger coin, the silver content is higher too. Because of the national debt many kingdoms in Europe went into following the Crusades and a series of other wars over the span of several centuries, the silver content of most coins was repeatedly devalued, to the point that many 'silver' coins contained less than 10% silver. It wasn't until the introduction of the Joachimsthaler in the early 1500's, which was both larger and had a higher silver content, that European currencies began to standardize again and regain the value they had lost. 40% silver content isn't too bad, all things considered.

He leads me up to the second floor and shows me a couple of rooms; they're all about the same, so I just pick one and settle in. He gives a slight bow as he backs out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The door uses the same string-latch mechanism as the front door to the inn. There's a bronze deadbolt to bar the door and I can pull the string inside to prevent someone from coming in, but I don't see a way to prevent someone from entering my room when I'm not there. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Not good, obviously, but how prevalent is theft here? The guard said I wanted a good inn so I wouldn't get robbed, and this place certainly seems clean and upscale, but that doesn't mean someone won't just come into my room and steal my stuff.

I glance around the room. There's a window with no glass, just wooden shutters. A simple bed with a thick pad for a mattress, and a wool blanket. No pillow. There's a small table or writing desk next to the bed, upon which is a beeswax candle in a holder. There's a small wooden chair under the table, and a simple rug by the bed. Looking around, I see a pair of coat hooks by the door and a sliding door leading into what I assume is a closet. No, there's a small wardrobe next to it, so maybe it's the bathroom?

Sliding the door open, I look into a small, dark room. There's a shelf on the wall with a metal basin, full of water. A bench is mounted on the back wall, with a hole in the center; below the bench is a wooden bucket. There's a small stack of rags on the bench.

Ah. Yep. It's the bathroom. I wonder who's responsible for emptying the bucket? I don't think they just toss the contents out the window into the street; this place is too upscale for that, and the streets outside were too clean. Nor was there any sort of stench outside.

Putting aside the question of sanitation for the moment, I lean my sword against the wall, take off my backpack and set it on the ground, and sit on the bed. After several long minutes of trying to process everything that's happened in the last several hours and staring blankly at the door, I pull out my phone.

No cell service. No GPS signal. No text messages. Internet access unavailable. Battery at 71%. I shut my phone off to save its battery and stick it back in my pocket. I stare at the door for several more minutes, the wheels of my mind spinning but going nowhere.

Then I freak out. It's undignified and I'll spare you the embarassing details, but there was lots of swearing and I bruised my knuckles on the wall once.

This was real. I was really here. I had no idea how I got here, or how to get back. I might be trapped here forever. I wasn't particularly fond of most of my family, but I would still miss them if I never saw them again. How long will it take them to notice I'm gone? How will they react? When will they give up any hope of my returning and resign themselves to assuming I'm dead?

I freak out again.

I'll never get to watch tv again. Drive a car. Shitpost on the internet. Listen to talk radio. Go to the movie theater. Enjoy air conditioning. Eat pizza. Take an ice cold soda out of the fridge and drink it. Hell, I'll never see a can of soda again, outside of the handful in my backpack.

Can. Aluminum can. Aluminum.

Holy shit.

I need to be thinking about how I'll survive here. There can't be much, if any, call for electricians in this world. Manual labor won't pay much; they have serfs, or maybe slaves, for that. Being literate and educated won't help since I'm not literate in any language here, apparently, my history education applies to history in my world, not this one, and the science and math I know are centuries ahead of their time and won't put food on the table. I'm a pretty big guy, I have a broadsword and a couple pistols, maybe I could hire myself out as a mercenary; ammunition is very limited, and I'm sure my hobbyist skill with a sword is nothing compared to professionals who actually fight with swords for a living, so that may not be a viable option either. Not a long-term option, that is, since I could very well be killed in my first battle. Hell, a flea bite could kill me with the black plague.

No, my skills and education probably won't support me, not until I do a lot more research about this world and its conditions. I need information. But first, and more importantly, I need a source of income to keep me alive until I find something I can do long-term to support myself. And if skills and education won't do it, then selling off what I have will.

And I have a stack of aluminum coins in my backpack. Holy shit. Grabbing those on a whim might actually have saved my ass.

Briefly thinking that's just the sort of contrived coincidence you see in isekai light novels, I chalk it up to divine intervention. I dig out the coins, then stick my backpack in the bathroom and hide the sword under the thin mattress. I tuck my pistol, which nobody seems to have noticed this whole time, back under my shirt, drop the handful of coins into my coat pocket, and step out into the hallway.

Yep. There's no way to lock the door while I'm gone. Other than sticking the string through the hole, at which point I would be locked out of my room with no way to get in. There's a little tin sign with text painted on it hanging on the door that wasn't there when the innkeeper showed me the room; I assume it says 'occupied' or something similar. Glancing at the symbols carved into the wall next to the door and assuming they're my room number, I dedicate them to memory and walk toward the stairs. A glance at the other rooms shows that my guess about being room numbers was right, as each one is different.

Returning to the lobby/dining room on the ground floor, I walk to the counter where the innkeeper had apparently finished polishing his stoneware and was now amusing himself with something that looked like a game of tic-tac-toe that used colored stones on a wooden board. The old man is still carving his wooden figurine in the corner.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, m'lord?" the innkeeper said, looking up from his game immediately and straightening to attention.

"Is there a place nearby that exchanges money or deals in high value merchandise?"

Not seeming especially surprised, the innkeeper comes out from behind the counter, opens the front door, and points to the right.

"Go that way, take the second left, and there will be a green building with a statue of a lion in front. They deal in loans, exchange gold for silver, and sometimes purchase things like jewelry or mirrors."

Thanking him, I step outside, commit the inn and its surrounding landmarks to memory, and note its direction on my compass. It would be awful if I went looking for a high-end pawn shop and ended up not being able to find my way back to the inn where I'd left my stuff.

Walking along, I carefully observed my surroundings. Most of the buildings here seemed to be shops of some sort; glancing inside their open doors or windows, I could guess what most of them were. A candlemaker, a seamstress, a cobbler, and... I think that one sells pottery. I also take note of the people. Most of them seem well dressed, though some are wearing more flamboyant colors than others, and a few men are walking with swords or daggers on their hips. None of the armed men are wearing armor or any sort of uniform, so I assume they're carrying weapons either as status symbols or in case they get mugged. In any case, nobody seems to have a problem with someone being armed inside the city. The guards at the gate didn't seem particularly phased by my sword either.

Not everyone looks well dressed though; I note several people in stained, patched clothes like the farmer I met, all of whom seem to be on some sort of urgent task rather than leisurely walking along like the better dressed people around them. One is carrying a bushel of wheat into the back of a business; maybe it's a restaurant, or bakery. I also notice several people wearing simple, short tunics of undyed cloth and a collar or choker around their neck; most of them seem to be women, but there's one or two men dressed like that. Some are walking about on their own and apparently shopping, but others are clearly accompanying someone else. I say clearly, because they have leashes attached to their collars. Leashes held by much better dressed individuals. One man, wearing a tunic just short enough to make it clear he isn't wearing underwear, is carrying a heavy box full of what look to be bolts of cloth, while a woman in a bright red dress and elaborately curled hair leads him around on his leash. I'm guessing slavery really is a thing here... unless there's some BDSM club in the area, but I find that unlikely. One man, dressed in tights and a shirt with puffy sleeves and frills and a frilled collar that simply had to be seen to be believed, was leading a woman in an equally nice dress around by a leash; her hands were bound behind her back, but every time the man stopped to examine a storefront, she preened a little and was clearly enjoying the attention from male passersby. Ok, either that was definitely a fetish thing, or she's some sort of high-end slave being paraded around as a status symbol to show how wealthy the man is. I even see one poor girl completely nude, save for her collar and a pair of lace-up sandals, trotting behind her presumed owner, arms bound behind her back and trying to keep up with his much longer strides so he doesn't tug on her leash. The only attention this seems to attract is the appreciative gaze of a number of men enjoying the view before returning to their business. It doesn't seem to be an unusual enough sight to elicit comment or undue attention from anyone.

Huh. So this is that kind of place. I wonder what sort of slave economy they have. In ancient Rome, a male slave averaged around 500 silver denarii, and an attractive female slave could go for as much as 6,000 denarii. When the Roman denarius was first introduced, it was roughly 95-98% pure silver and about 4.5 grams. A US quarter minted before 1965 weighed 6.25 grams, and was 90% pure silver. So a silver denarius was roughly worth the same as a US quarter, maybe a little less. Four quarters equaled 0.715 troy ounces of silver; all US silver coins, when added up to one dollar, equaled 0.715 ounces of silver. So if a male slave, presumably for manual labor, was 500 denarii, that meant the price of a male slave was roughly $125, if the amounts of silver involved were roughly the same. The denarius was repeatedly devalued over its existence, after all, so the price in silver might actually be less if we're talking about silver dollars. A female slave, a very attractive one, going for around 6,000 denarii, would be $1,500 in silver dollars. Assuming I was doing the math in my head right, and the silver content of the two coins was roughly identical. A good looking girl, obviously purchased for purposes other than toiling away in a field, went for ten times as much as a man in the Roman Empire.

But this is a medieval setting. By the Middle Ages, the value of silver currency had dropped due to devaluing of the coins, Roman gold mines were tapped out and new sources of gold hadn't been discovered yet, so the value of gold to silver skyrocketed. At the same time, the value of slaves fluctuated. A male slave cost around 15 ounces of silver, or $21 in silver dollars, and a female slave cost more than double. Not nearly as big a price difference as during the height of the Roman Empire. A tenth of an ounce of pure gold, a coin the size of a dime, would buy you two girls, or four men.

On the other hand, slaves in America were much more expensive. Many Europeans came to America as indentured servants, especially the Irish, and were essentially considered disposable. Black slaves, on the other hand, were slaves for life and wouldn't be freed once they'd paid off their debts like an indentured man, so if a black slave got injured or killed while working, his owner was out of a great deal of money. The average slave in the 1800's cost around $800 in silver dollars, and since the entire purpose of slaves in 1800's America was manual labor, particularly picking cotton, men were actually valued slightly more than women. Nobody was buying Africans as sex slaves.

In the modern world, blacks are still being sold as slaves in Africa and the Middle East, and cost anywhere from $80 to $300. Since coins are no longer made of silver, the dollar doesn't convert over directly, but the last time I checked, silver was about $15 per troy ounce. So if a slave sold for $80, that would convert to... just shy of $4 in silver dollars? That didn't quite sound right, but I was getting confused doing the conversions of different weights and purities of silver and dollar amounts in my head. In any case, modern slaves are ridiculously cheap, at least for 'disposable' African slaves. I'm sure some beautiful girl from Eastern Europe being sold as a sex slave in Israel (human trafficking capital of the world, everyone) would go for thousands, if not tens of thousands, of dollars.

So if this world has roughly the same conditions as Europe in the 1600's, then slaves should be fairly cheap. But they might not be. I selected a world roughly analogous to central Europe in the early 1600's, but it clearly isn't identical. The politics, economy, history, and everything else is sure to be very different. I've seen about a dozen female slaves and only two male slaves so far; either female slaves are more common, or I'm simply in the wrong environment to see more male slaves. Men would be performing manual labor in the fields, building houses, or other difficult, dangerous jobs, while women would be domestic servants working in the house or personally tending their master, cooking, cleaning, fetching, that sort of thing. And sex slaves. There was always that. And I am 100% sure that's what the poor naked girl and the well-dressed slave were.

If there's slavery, where do the slaves come from? Are they captured in war, imported from other countries, or do they have a population of slaves whose children are also slaves, meaning there's always a ready supply? If this place and time is roughly analogous to the Thirty Years War, then either there's a major war going on, or one about to erupt. War means captives and plunder, which means slaves. Could that be where they come from?

Oh, there's the green building with the statue of a lion in front. While I was distracted by all kinds of useless information about money and slavery (thanks, history degree!), I seem to have arrived at my destination.

Stepping up the door, I look for the string, but there isn't one. There is a knocker, however. I knock on the door three times and wait.

Moments later, a balding man in white tights, a red coat with tails, and a poofy collar answers the door, looking down his nose at me with a polite, but distant air. He's the very embodiment of the sort of person you picture when you hear the name Jeeves.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I hear you exchange goods and currency?"

"Indeed, you've come to the right place. Come in, my lord, come in."

He steps aside to let me past, then closes the door behind me.

"Who shall I announce, my lord?"

Why does everyone keep calling me lord? Do my clothes look that fancy? I'm wearing cargo pants, a t-shirt, and a camouflage jacket, not tights, polished brass buttons, silk, and frills. Maybe my clothes are so unusual they assume I'm some foreigner, or a wealthy eccentric? They're clearly higher quality than what the peasants are wearing, so maybe that's it.

"Roland. Roland Schulz."

"Very good, my lord. Please have a seat here, while I announce you. Would you care for some refreshment?"

"Yes, please. I've come a long way."

"Then if you'll excuse me," he says, bowing slightly and leaving the room.

I'm seated on a stuffed chair in a parlor just off the front room. There's an identical chair opposite me, with a low, polished table in between. The walls are paneled wood for the lower half, and white plaster molded in a floral motif for the upper half. The ceiling is also plaster, with gold trim here and there. The room is lit by a pair of tall, narrow, glass windows; the glass is transparent enough to see through, but everything is foggy and distorted. Assuming their glass technology is on par with my world's from the same time period, these windows are expensive, but not top tier.

The butler, valet, or whatever he is returns with a silver tray containing a small bunch of grapes and a hunk of cheese, and a pewter cup containing wine. I'm not much of a wine person, but I'm thirsty and don't want to seem rude, so I accept it gratefully.

Another man enters, dressed in the same tights-and-poofy-frilly-coat fashion as the man leading the high class slave around, and I stand up politely to meet him.

"Oh, please be seated, my lord. I've heard you've come a long way, so please relax."

"Thank you."

"I am Giros Bertinelczik, the owner of this establishment. What business do you have for me today, Mr. Schulz?"

"I'm interested in exchanging a coin of high value for some money of lesser value, that would be easier to spend."

Giros' mannerism and polite expression didn't change in the least, but I suddenly got the impression he was disappointed and perhaps thought I was wasting his time.

"Of course. We do engage in that sort of business. Just one coin, you say?"

"Yes," I reply, unwilling to admit to owning a large number of what are probably very valuable coins here. If the value isn't as high as I expect, I can reveal that I have several more aluminum coins for sale; if the value is higher than I expect, it would be best to hold on to most of them so I'm not taken advantage of or robbed.

"Very well. You have a large gold coin you wish to exchange for silver?"

I pull an aluminum coin from my coat pocket and hold it up.

"You'll have to forgive me, I'm from a very far away land and I've only just arrived in this country. How valuable is aluminum here?"

"Aluminum?" he asks, apparently confused. He reaches for the coin when I proffer it to him and takes it, seemingly startled at how light it is. He examines it closely, then seems to get more interested.

"Is this silver-from-clay?"

Silver-from-clay? Maybe that's their term for aluminum. It was originally extracted from alum and clays rich in aluminum ore.

"We call it aluminum where I'm from. It's a rare metal, doesn't tarnish, and is very light."

"Yes. Yes, I see that. It's very difficult to fake. I'm certain this is the real thing," he says, rubbing the fluted edge with his thumbnail and visibly excited. "And you wish to exchange this?"

"If I could. I'm afraid I don't have any local currency, and would like to acquire some."

He places the coin on the table and sits back for a moment, hands resting on his knees, apparently in thought.

"I'm afraid I don't have quite enough money on me at the moment. Would you perhaps be willing to sell me half of your coin?"

"Half?"

"Yes. I can arrange for immediate payment for half of the coin now. Or, if you would prefer to sell the whole coin, I can have the rest of the money in a week or so."

I consider for a moment.

"Would you be willing to pay me for half now, and the other half a week from now?"

"Of course! However, I would only be willing to part with half of the money now if I got to keep half of the coin."

"That's understandable. I don't think that would be a problem. But how much money are we talking about, exactly?"

Giros replies, without hesitation, "One hundred talos."

Jeeves, or whatever his name is, looks startled. Is that a lot? Or is Jeeves reacting because his boss is lowballing me?

"Mmm. Could you perhaps do a hundred and twenty?" I ask, seeing how far I can push this. I have no idea what a talos is worth, or even what the cost of goods is, beyond a silver dollar apparently buying a week in an inn, with change left over. Is a talos one of those silver coins I got back as change? If that's the case, then aluminum isn't worth as much as I thought. But Giros said he didn't have enough money on hand for the whole coin, so it seems like a talos should be worth more than that.

Giros looks pained. Jeeves is looking at me with astonishment, as if he can't believe I'm so greedy. Either they've really practiced their routine, or I really am asking too much. But how much is a talos worth?

"I'm afraid I don't have quite that much available, at the moment, my lord."

He doesn't offer me a slightly higher amount. I guess it's not open to negotiation.

"Very well. One hundred talos."

Regardless of whether or not a talos is a little or a lot, it's more local money than I've got right now. And I've got 19 more aluminum coins, so it's alright if I get screwed on the price of one. Assuming he's lowballing me, a talos isn't worth very much, and aluminum may or may not be as valuable as I think it is here. But he's willing to cut the coin in half and acquire it, so it has to be worth something. Dammit, how much is a talos worth?

Giros snaps his fingers and Jeeves leaves the room. I sip more wine and finish off the piece of cheese, while Giros leans back in his chair, hands clasped around one knee, and waits expectantly.

No more than five minutes later, Jeeves returns with another man in tow. The man is carrying a little table with what looks like a vice mounted on it. Jeeves passes Giros a small cloth bag.

Giros, accepting the bag, dumps its contents onto the table and looks at me.

"Satisfactory?"

Holy shit.

There's twenty gold coins, each smaller in diameter than a silver dollar, but twice as thick. Doing my best to maintain a poker face, I pick one up and estimate its weight at roughly half a troy ounce.

"What's its composition?"

"Nine tenths gold, one tenth copper, with just a trace of tin to keep the gold from being too soft."

So I have a little less than ten ounces of gold in my possession. And that's for half the coin. Wow.

"Quite satisfactory," I say, doublechecking the number of coins and sticking them into my pocket. I'm assuming that since there's twenty coins and he offered me one hundred talos, each coin is worth five talos. Otherwise he's risking me coming back angry when I find out he ripped me off. But I don't think he would do that; I'm clearly speaking the same language as him, he can't assume I'm not literate and unable to read the denomination on the coin.

"Very well," he says, taking my aluminum coin from the table and passing it to the man with the little table and vice. I assumed he was going to saw it in half, but the man actually adjusts a little bracket to center the coin in the table, then closes a hinged cover, latches it in place, and begins turning a crank or screw. After a moment, there's a slight popping sound, and he turns the crank in the opposite direction once or twice, then unlatches the cover and flips it open.

My aluminum coin has been split in half, precisely down the middle. He passes the two halves back to Giros, who pockets one piece, then passes me the other half.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Schulz."

"And with you, sir."

"Oh," Giros says, scoffing lightly. "I'm not a knight. Lord will do."

"My mistake," I say. "In my country, we call anyone of higher class sir; if they're a knight, we add their name after the sir."

"An interesting custom," Giros says, clearly just being polite. "And you're still interested in selling the other half of the coin later?"

"Yes, I am."

"Very well. I should have the funds available in seven or eight days time. I look forward to doing further business with you, my lord."

"And I with you, my lord."

Giros bows and sees himself out of the room, followed by the man with the vice/coin-splitter. Jeeves leads me to the door and holds it for me, looking at me with what seems to be newfound respect.

"A very good day to you, my lord. We look forward to you gracing us with your presence again."

"Thank you, and a good day to you as well."

He seems genuinely surprised that I said that and gives me a slight bow as I step outside into the sunlight.

Well. It seems my silly whim of grabbing those aluminum coins has saved my bacon. I now have funds. I have what I hope are considerable funds. I make my way back to the inn, carefully observing my surroundings. Partly so I don't get lost, partly out of paranoia. If Giros wanted to, he could have someone tail me so he could rob me of the other half of my aluminum coin and get his gold back. I pause at a few shops to look as if I'm interested in their wares, while surrepticiously looking for anyone who might be following me. I don't notice anyone paying me any attention, other than a few interested glances from people walking by; probably my clothes stand out quite a bit. I notice a few more slaves, including one running past with a sack of potatoes over her shoulder; maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn she had a tail or something trailing out from under her tunic. Another naked girl, this one with her hands bound behind her back and something like a horse bit in her mouth, walks past, trailing her master. Again, outside of appreciative looks from nearby men, nobody seems to pay much attention. Is that sort of exhibition really common here? I don't see any more male slaves, aside from one helping a peasant unload a wagon full of firewood.

Just to be safe, I circle the block, but don't notice anyone following me, even after ducking inside the cobbler's shop and pretending to examine some of their shoes. Eventually I decide it's probably safe and I'm just being paranoid and finish my walk back to the inn.

Once I arrive, however, I'm greeted by an unexpected sight.

The innkeeper, looking angry, is standing by the stairs, glaring at the old man, who is now seated at one of the tables. His hands are bound in front of him and he has a black eye. There's also a guard, like the ones at the gate to the city, looming over him.

Upon noticing me, the innkeeper rushes over anxiously.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, m'lord! I never expected this sort of thing to happen in my establishment!"

"What happened?"

I carefully ease my coat back with my elbow to grant me faster access to my pistol. I don't know what's going on here.

The guard gestures at the table and asks curtly, "Are these your things, m'lord?"

I look at the table. My hunting knife, camouflage hat, the pocket mirror from my toiletries kit, and the book I brought to read on my camping trip (in hopes my nephew would take a liking to it) are on the table.

"Yes, they are."

The guard gruffly gestures to the old man and says, "As I thought. Seems this fellow overheard you talking to the innkeep about selling something valuable, so he went up to your room looking for something to steal. Innkeep caught him in the act."

"I'm terribly sorry, m'lord! He's worked here for over a year, always been a trustworthy sort of fellow, so I never expected..."

"I see. Is this all he stole from me?"

"We didn't find anything more, m'lord."

"Well thank you for catching him," I say. Dammit. I knew not being able to lock the door behind me would be a problem.

I pick up my things from the table as the guard starts to roughly manhandle the old man toward the door, when curiosity gets the better of me.

"I'm new to this country; how do you punish thieves around here?"

"Oh, usually give them a good flogging in the public square, but he's already got his stripes," the guard says, pulling up the old man's shirt to reveal several scars on his back. "So he'll be registered as a slave and sold off. Don't reckon you'll get much for 'im; he's old and a thief, so nobody's gonna want him."

"Wait- how much I'll get for him?"

"Yes, m'lord," the guard says, sounding surprised. "You're the one he's wronged, so you get paid whatever he sells for. It shouldn't take long, as soon as the deed is done, I'll bring you your money."

"Would you mind waiting for me to put my things in order and confirm nothing is missing so I can accompany you?"

Leaving aside the possibility of the guard pocketing some of the money, I'm actually interested to see the process of enslaving a man. It'll tell me more about the local economy and law.

"Certainly, m'lord."

The innkeeper walks up to me again, his bristly mustache quivering with emotion as he extends his hand to me. He's holding my lucky silver dollar.

"I understand if you wish to seek a room at another inn, m'lord. I can't let you be wronged by someone working for me and keep your money."

I pocket my silver dollar. I could go to another inn, but I have no idea where one is, or how reputable it would be in comparison to this one. And being as I can't read any of the signs, I wouldn't be able to identify which building was an inn without sticking my head inside.

"No, it's allright. I'll stay here. Do you have another room with a lock on the door though?"

"Certainly, m'lord, certainly. Let me get a key."

He should've given me a room with a lock to begin with. But then again, maybe locks are expensive enough that he can't afford to put them on every room in his inn? I'm still keeping my silver dollar. And the silver coins he gave me as change.

He leads me back to my room, where I find the contents of my backpack spilled out on the floor. I do a quick inventory and ascertain everything is there, put it all back in its place, and then, putting my heavy pack on and retrieving my sword from under the mattress, I follow the innkeeper to the third floor, where he leads me into a room and hands me a large, brass key. Once I've got everything stowed and confirm the door is now safely locked behind me, I go back downstairs where the guard is waiting with the surly old man, who still hasn't said a thing to me.

"Ready, lord?"

"Yes. Lead the way."

I follow the guard as he roughly shoves the old man along, doing my best to keep my bearings so I can find my way back to the inn. After a few twists and turns, we end up at a sprawling, two story building with a wrought iron fence around it. There's a guard at the gate, who opens it for us as we approach. The guard marches his prisoner right up to the front door and bangs the knocker brusquely.

An older woman with a collar around her neck, but a decent looking dress and shoes, opens the door, looks us up and down, and lets us in.

"What may I say is your business?"

"Caught a thief trying to rob this lord here, he's already been flogged once, so it's time he pay his dues under the collar."

"I see. Please wait here."

The slave woman scurries off down the hall and disappears for a moment, then returns with two men. One is wearing a padded gambeson and has a nasty looking leather blackjack in his hand. The other is dressed even more fancily than Giros, with his coat being decorated with gold and silver lace.

"A thief, you say?"

"Yes, m'lord. He stole from this foreign gentleman, here. His employer caught him in the act."

"I see."

The man in the fancy clothes approaches the old man and reaches for him. He doesn't react when the old man bristles, but the man with the blackjack brandishes it menacingly. The old man stays very still as the apparent slave dealer examines his teeth, feels his arms and hands, and examines the scars on his back.

"Mmm. I won't get much for him. How does a dozen tarls sound?"

Since he seemed to be addressing me, I shrug in response. The man pulls a dozen silver coins identical to the ones the innkeeper gave me as change from a leather purse on his belt and hands them to me, then has the hired muscle frogmarch the old man away, never to be seen again.

Apparently an old man, who is a known thief, goes for the same price as breakfast and dinner every day for two weeks, when sold as a slave. I'm sure the slave dealer will sell him for a higher price, since he isn't going to sell him at a loss after all, but that still isn't much money for a human life.

The guard touches the brim of his kettle helmet with one fingertip in a brief salute to me, then leaves out the front door, his business done with.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, my lord?" the fancily dressed man asks.

"Actually, I'm new to this country and rather curious about your system of slavery."

The man gestures for me to follow him and leads me into another room, where I'm seated across from him in a luxuriously carpeted and paneled room even nicer than the one Giros met me in. The slave business must be good. He gestures at the slave woman, who bows and exits the room.

"Your accent is very bizarre, but I must say your pronunciation and grammar are excellent. Did you learn Hratchan from your tutor, or in a monastary?"

"I learned it from another traveler, actually. I'm from much further away than most of the travelers you meet," I reply. I honestly have no idea how I'm able to speak his language. Or at least the language spoken by the upper class; I can't understand a word the commoners say, apparently. Maybe it's magic. I do recall selecting something about languages when I was 'selecting my world', and I chose what seemed to be the equivalent of medieval Latin, spoken by nobles and clergy. And I somehow ended up in a medieval world with no cell phone service after clicking a browser on my computer, so as far as I'm concerned, magic it is. Or sufficiently advanced technology. There's little functional difference between the two.

"Ah. Well, you've mastered it quite gracefully, I must say. Now, what is it you wish to know?"

The slave woman returns with a silver tray decorated in gold filigree, and places a silver cup in front of each of us. I help myself to a taste; like I said, I'm not a wine person, but this definitely seems like it's higher quality than what Giros was serving. Being in the slave trade definitely seems to pay well.

"Well, things are a bit different in my country. Slavery has, for the most part, been outlawed. It was legal previously, but there were laws and customs regulating the practice. I'm curious how it operates here. Are most slaves criminals, like him?" I ask, referring to the old man. I honestly don't feel sorry for him being sold into slavery; thieves have it coming.

"Oh, no, certainly not. The majority of male slaves are born into slavery; their parents are slaves. A few are criminals serving punishment, and others are war captives or purchased from other countries, but most male slaves are born that way. For criminals, they're freed after ten years. For those born as slaves or purchased from foreigners, they're freed after reaching the age of fifty or being owned for twenty years, whichever comes second."

"So if you purchase a slave who turns fifty before you've owned him for twenty years, he remains a slave until the twenty years are up," I state, wanting to clarify the situation.

"Precisely. Whereas if he was born a slave in this country, he's freed at age fifty, regardless of how old he is when you purchase him."

"I see," I say, leaning back and taking another sip of wine. It still tastes like rancid grape juice, but this wine is definitely higher quality than Giro's. "I notice you specified male slaves."

"Yes. Females are treated differently under the law. Regardless of whether they're born into slavery, purchased from foreigners, or born free and later enslaved, females are slaves for life until and unless their master frees them."

"I see. And are most female slaves born into slavery?"

"A little over half are. There are more female slaves than male, partly because of demand, and partly because it's legal to sell a girl into slavery under certain conditions, whereas a man must commit a crime to be enslaved."

The old man was sold into slavery without so much as a trial. I can't imagine the justice system here is especially stringent.

"What sort of conditions?"

"Any unmarried female under the age of thirty may be enslaved by the local manor lord if her family fails to pay their taxes. A father may sell his daughter into slavery whenever he pleases, so long as she is under thirty and unmarried. A husband may sell his wife into slavery if she has been unfaithful to him in marriage. And, of course, if a woman of any age commits a crime, as that man did, she may be enslaved as well."

This culture doesn't seem particularly friendly toward the idea of equal rights for women. And their justice system is a bit... seat of the pants. I need to know more so I can avoid stepping on toes and ending up on the wrong side of the law myself.

"Are you perhaps interested in acquiring a slave? You do seem curious, and I'm sure a traveler far from home could use someone to assist them. Care for your horse and tack, for instance."

Do I want a slave? I'm at once repulsed by the question, but something makes me stop before denying it. I need to learn about this new world I've found myself trapped in. I need the assistance of a native, someone who knows the ins and outs of the culture, its laws, customs, and social mores. Someone who also won't sell me up the river. I'm a foreigner who can never return home or receive aid from home, cut off from support, alone, vulnerable. I have what is probably a massive amount of wealth. My electronic devices, though not especially useful here, would probably be regarded as magical artifacts and fetch a high price. My aluminum coins are apparently quite valuable here, and I'm sure my titanium mess kit and camp stove would be insanely valuable if anyone here knew what titanium was. Hell, it's expensive even in my world. And I haven't seen anyone carrying a firearm; assuming they have 1600's-era weapons like a matchlock arquebus, a modern semi-auto pistol with ammunition would be immensely valuable. And I brought several. My backpack contains a small fortune in it. Even my sword would sell for quite a lot, considering that swords historically were quite valuable and mine has superior metallurgy. If someone discovered that, they could betray me and take my apparently vast wealth for themselves. But if my native ally didn't have a choice in the matter, they might be more trustworthy...

"Exactly what sort of laws are there protecting slaves?"

"I'm sorry?" the man asks, looking slightly confused.

"When slavery was legal in my country, there were certain restrictions. You couldn't beat a slave so harshly it resulted in permanent harm, or murder a slave. And once they got too old to work, you were obligated to care for them in their old age." Another reason why Irish immigrants were treated as disposable labor, while black slaves were treated with more care: if they got crippled doing dangerous work, you were on the hook caring for them for the rest of their life. Whereas if an Irishman got crippled working for you, you simply fired his ass and hired his replacement right off the boat.

The slave trader chuckles and shakes his head, the tips of his thin, waxed mustache bobbing in time with his laughter.

"There are no such laws here! Do as you please with your slave; beat them, mutilate them, murder them, free them, pamper them, starve them, it matters not. They're your property, what you do with them is your business."

Well that's ugly. It seems like harsh treatment would make slaves more inclined to rebel, but the penalty for disobedience is whatever their owner thinks is appropriate, even if it's grossly out of proportion to the perceived offense. In that case, a slave is much more likely to avoid doing anything to incur their owner's wrath, rather than taking a "it's better to seek forgiveness" attitude.

"And if a slave runs away or rebels?"

"If a slave runs away and they're caught, their master is free to punish them as he sees fit. Considering anyone who captures a runaway slave can demand ten percent of their sale price to return them, most slave owners will be... less than lenient, when their slave is returned. For those who inflict physical harm on their masters, the punishment can be anything their master decides, up to and including death. If a slave murders their master, the penalty is torture, followed by being hurled from the top of the Glavos rock to their death. Being thrown from the top of the Glavos rock is considered a humiliation reserved only for traitors to the state and slaves who kill their masters."

"I see."

So it's as I thought. A slave is going to have very few options in terms of betraying their owner. In that case, a slave would make the ideal ally in this new world: they can't say no, and they can't betray my secrets, rob me, or kill me without incurring harsh punishment. But how much would a slave actually be able to teach me about this world? I'm sure they'd be a valuable source of information so far as culture is concerned, but the details and nuances of history, politics, foreign affairs, economics, and so forth would be beyond a simple household maid or field hand. You also don't teach your obsolete farm equipment how to read and write, and I need to learn how to read signs in this place.

"So were you considering it, or-?"

"I believe I am. If I can find the right sort of slave, that is. Do you perhaps have any slaves available who've been trained to serve as children's tutors? Capable of reading and writing?"

"Of course. I have a slave for every occasion," the man says with a smile. "You're looking for a tutor?"

"Yes. I'd like to see the slaves for myself, find one with the right attributes."

"Of course, of course, I'm always happy to show off the merchandise," he says, clearly warming up to a sale. He waves dismissively at the woman, still standing there holding the tray, and says, "I need tutors, literate ones. Have them assembled immediately."

"Yes, master."

She wasn't quite running when she left the room, but she was definitely in a hurry. Considering all his talk about how you could do anything you want to your slaves, I assume she knew better than to cross him.

We both take the time to finish our drinks, then he stands up, stretches for a moment, and then says with a grin, "That should be long enough. Let's see the merchandise, shall we?"

He leads me down a long, long hallway to a large room, where eight slaves, two men, six women, are standing in a row, with the older woman standing at attention nearby.

"Each of these slaves in fluent in both Hratchan and Cursci, and can read and write in both languages. They're each fluent in basic math, geography, history, and science, to varying degrees. Several of them are still undergoing training as tutors, you see, so they aren't quite fully up to the task yet, I'm afraid."

I look at each one as I walk down the row of slaves. Am I really considering buying a person? A PERSON? Like you buy a laptop or a new set of shoes? It's shitty, but yes. Yes, I am. I need help. Desperately.

I ignore the first woman, who gives me a look of total disinterest. And the second, whose expression as she looks at my clothing makes it clear she thinks I'm some sort of weirdo. Hey, I'm not the one dressed up like the Burger King, ok? The first man I also walk past without comment, as he has an insolent look to him. The next woman is an old woman, short and wizened, but with a kindly-seeming face and the sort of wrinkles that suggest she laughs a lot.

"How old are you?"

"Sixty-two, my lord."

"How long have you been a tutor?"

"Oh, many years, my lord. I've raised and taught two generations of the Dukes of Wellby."

"You seem to have some experience then. Why aren't you still in their employ?"

"The current Duke has no children, my lord, so my services were no longer required."

"I see."

I nod to the slave trader, who gestures the old woman to step forward and separate herself from the others. She's a strong contender, if she's been teaching dukes her whole life. The next one under consideration is a young woman who, when interrogated, apologizes and says she's just begun training as a tutor and doesn't feel qualified for the position yet. I'm not sure if she's saying that to be honest and/or avoid punishment for being unqualified if I buy her, or if she's also trying to avoid being purchased by me. Whichever the case may be, I pass on her. Next is the other man.

"How long have you been a tutor?"

"Four years, my lord. Before that, I was a schoolteacher for six years."

"A schoolteacher? So you haven't been a slave for long?"

"No, my lord. I was enslaved when my country went to war with Ossetria four years ago."

"I see."

I nod at the slave trader again and the man steps aside with the old woman.

I pass over the next woman, who has the glazed eyes of someone who hasn't been getting enough sleep and a fading yellow bruise on her cheek. The last in line is... honestly, the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Like, when you visit the chans and go through a "You Love, You Lose" thread and browse photos of achingly beautiful girls prettier than any you meet face to face. Only she was even prettier. Short, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulder, slender, and fine-boned. She looked elfin and delicate, with pale skin, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and gorgeous red hair. She was also the only one dressed slightly different from the others; her tunic had been lengthened by crudely stiching some extra fabric to the bottom, so it extended halfway to her knees, and she had a little hat made of the same fabric perched on top of her head. In spite of the extra length to her tunic, I could see red hair hanging down below it; ooh, a redheaded Rapunzel?

"How old are you?"

"F-fifteen, m'lord!"

The old woman cleared her throat and the girl quickly corrected herself.

"M-my lord!"

"How long have you been a tutor?"

"I've just started, my lord. I-I can read and write in Hratchan and Cursci, and I've learned some of the other subjects, b-but I'm afraid I haven't finished learning, my lord."

Hnnng. She's adorable. I nod to the slave trader and he gestures her forward, then dismisses the five slaves I didn't select for closer examination.

I return to the man in the middle of the trio of slave tutors.

"So you originally came from another country?"

"Yes, my lord."

"How familiar are you with this one?"

He gives me a pained look and admits, "I've lived here for four years, my lord, but I'm afraid I only know as much of the history and customs as a foreigner knows. My previous owner purchased me to teach his son specifically about my country, so he could serve as an ambassador there."

"I see." I glance at the slave trader, who makes a shooing gesture to dismiss the man. It's narrowed down to the wise old woman and the petite beauty. At this point, the slave trader steps forward and gestures first to the old woman.

"Marta here is our most experienced tutor, and second to none. She taught the current Duke of Wellby and his father, and they're considered highly educated, and intelligent men. Because of her valuable experience and knowledge, of course, she does not come cheaply."

"I'm sure," I mutter as the old woman smiles at me patiently.

"And pretty little Liska here, well, she's still learning to be a tutor, but she has other uses," he says, grinning broadly. "She's still a virgin, so no worries about venereal disease. Show him."

Liska, the pretty redhead, flushes a bright shade of pink, but complies immediately. She backs up a few steps to the table behind her, sits on it, and both raises the hem of her tunic and spreads her legs to expose herself to me.

I'm not looking all that closely, partly because I'm embarassed myself, and partly because the thing dangling between her legs has taken me by surprise. Girls aren't supposed to have anything there! But it's not- She has a tail. A bushy, red fox tail. I thought her hair hung down that far, but it actually stops midway down her back; what I mistook for hair was a tail.

"And," the slave trader continues, still grinning as the old woman reaches out to pat the girl's hand reassuringly, "As a foxkin, she can't get pregnant from a human, so no worries about that either."

I gesture for her to get down off the table and stop exposing herself to me, which she does without a moment's hesitation, still redfaced.

The old woman would be quite valuable, given her knowledge and experience. But I want Liska. And the slave trader knows that, damn him.

"How much for her?" I ask, gesturing at the old woman.

"Half a talos," he replies. "Expensive, yes, but well worth it. Her reputation is without peer."

I still have no idea how many of the silver coins add up to one talos, or how a five talos gold coin breaks down. But if the old man was cheap at a dozen small, silver coins, and this old woman is expensive at half a talos, or one tenth of a gold coin...

"And how much for her?"

"One talos," the slave trader says, grinning knowingly.

I asked for a tutor, not a sex slave. Shouldn't you be trying to upsell the old woman?

Aw, hell. He knows which one I really want, so she's the one he's trying to price gouge me on.

"Hmmm."

"I'll give you some time to think it over," the slave trader says, clearly knowing which one I'm going with.

Once he walks out of earshot and pretends to check the wall plastering for dust, Marta, the old woman, leans forward and says quietly, "We both know which one you want, my lord. She's a good girl, sharp as a whip. I've taught her well, and what she doesn't know, she'll learn."

I raise one eyebrow at the old woman and she smiles kindly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm quite valuable, so I'll be treated well, even if it takes a while for someone to buy me. Go on," Then she turned to Liska and patted her hand again. "Don't worry, dear; he seems the good sort. You've a good head on your shoulders. Remember what I've taught you and you'll do just fine."

Liska nods meekly. And with that, the decision is made.

"Would you consider half a talos for her?" I ask, gesturing at the tiny redhead.

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly!"

"Three quarters, then?"

"Well... All right. You drive a hard bargain, but it's a deal."

A hard bargain, huh? We barely negotiated.

The old woman is dismissed and gives young Liska's hand a gentle squeeze as a final farewell before she leaves the room. The slave trader gestures at the woman who's been standing to one side this whole time, and she fetches paperwork and a quill pen and ink pot.

"This transfers her deed of ownership over to you. Sign all three copies, please. One is for you, one is for my records, and the third will go to the magistrate's office so you can request proof of ownership if you lose your copy."

I sign the papers, not being able to read a word of them, and hand the slave trader one of the gold coins in my pocket. He examines it briefly, then reaches into his purse and exchanges it for four smaller gold coins and several large silver coins.

"There you are. We're all done. Enjoy your new purchase, my lord," he says lecherously.

What a dirty old man. Of course I'm going to enjoy my new purchase. But he's still a dirty old man.

He makes a shooing gesture at Liska and she trots along behind me as he leads the way back to the front door, her bare feet slapping on the granite floor. I'm six foot two and long legged; even walking at a leisurely pace, she has to take two steps to match every one of mine. Hnnnng, she's so adorably small! I just want to cuddle her forever.

The wisdom of buying what the slave trader obviously assumes will be a bed warmer, as opposed to a more knowledgeable and world-wise teacher, is questionable. Hell, I'm buying a person, everything about this is questionable.

But if it's wrong, I don't want to be right, dammit.

As we step into the entry room, another man is standing there waiting; he has a woman in a very tight, revealing dress with him. Her hands are bound behind her back, and her leash is attached to what I had assumed was a coat hook by the door. Is that what those are for? The slave trader greets him like an old friend, and the two immediately start talking business, heading toward the waiting room I'd been served wine in, leaving the slave to stand there with her leash tied to a hook on the wall, like a dog waiting for its owner to come out of the store. I guess since he'd already made the sale, he didn't have time for me anymore.

The slave woman has Liska put her arms behind her back, then binds them with a clever restraint made of soft cloth; the wrists go into a short sleeve, then you pull on a ribbon looped around each wrist and tie them together; they won't hurt your slave the way shackles would, and while not impossible to get out of, would be time consuming to escape. They're actually pretty clever, in spite of their simplicity. She then attaches a thin corded leash to Liska's collar on a small, metal D-ring, and hands it to me.

"Thank you for your business, my lord. Please come back any time you like."

I nod my head to her, then open the door and step outside, little Liska in tow.

It's getting late in the day; I haven't had lunch, and I'm not sure I can find my way back to the inn once the sun goes down. I'm also concerned about Liska's bare feet; the streets, some of which are cobbled, some of which are packed dirt and gravel, can't be comfortable for her to walk on, and that assumes the sun hasn't made them baking hot. Then again, they can't be too terribly hot; I saw other barefoot slaves out and about earlier. Regardless, although I don't mean to drag her along, I walk at a brisk pace and she struggles to keep up with my long strides; when necessary, I slow my pace to let her catch up, rather then tugging on her leash, but I don't stop until I've navigated the last turn and spot the inn ahead of me, the whitewashed walls glowing pink and orange in the setting sun.

Stepping inside the inn, I discover that the chandelier has been lit. A couple of customers are sitting at one of the tables, eating dinner. The innkeep looks up from where he's busily polishing some more stoneware mugs, and greets me with a grin.

"Well! So that's why you were gone so long! You left with a thief and came back with a little beauty!"

"What's for dinner?" I ask. I told him earlier I didn't need to buy meals, but that was then and this is now.

"Beef stew and fresh baked bread."

"I'll take two please. And some water."

"Coming right up!"

I walk over to a small table in the corner with two chairs and turn Liska around so I can remove her restraints, which takes a moment to figure out. Once I've got the cloth restraint removed, I set it on the table. Oh, the table has one of those hooks on it. I attach the handle of Liska's leash to the hook on the table and sit down. I expected her to sit at the other chair, but she instead kneels on the floor beside me, hands in her lap. Maybe I'm missing some sort of slave-owner etiquette, and she's not supposed to use furniture like a normal person. I let it pass without comment, dig a couple of silver coins out, and set them on the table. I have no idea how much the innkeeper will charge the two of us for dinner, so I'll let him work it out.

The innkeeper is still behind the counter, polishing mugs. I guess he isn't the one who brings our food? Ah, no. A woman wearing the tunic of a slave, but one that's distinctly cleaner than the ones I've seen so far, steps out of the back area with a wooden tray and brings it to our table. She sets a large bowl of stew in front of me, along with a big chunk of bread, then sets a smaller bowl and a little heel of bread in front of Liska. She also sets two stoneware mugs of water in front of us. Taking one of the silver coins off the table, she hands it to the innkeeper before going back into the kitchen.

I dig in immediately, but notice Liska hasn't moved to touch her food.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I must wait until I have permission, master," she replies quietly.

"Well, you have permission. Eat."

"Thank you, master."

With that, she picks her bowl up off the table and shovels stew into her mouth so fast I was worried she'd choke. Then she wipes the bowl clean with the little heel of bread and gobbles that down too, placing the empty bowl on the table and resting her hands in her lap again.

Despite missing lunch and being really hungry, I spoon some of my stew into her bowl and tear off a piece of my bread and set it next to her bowl. She looks at me in surprise, then whispers another, "thank you, master" and consumes that just as quickly.

I guess slaves don't get fed all that well. Well, worry no more, little Liska; your days of being hungry are over!

I finish my dinner, the innkeeper's slave retrieves our dishes, and I guide Liska up the stairs to my room, unlock the door, awkwardly pull the string to unlatch it, and lead her inside. Then I lock the door and deadbolt it, because I'll be damned if I'm letting some thief sneak into my room to rob me again.

I take the leash off of Liska's collar and toss it on the table along with her restraints, then pull my Zippo lighter out of my pocket and flick it. Liska seems startled, but I use the light to find the candle and light it, providing some decent illumination. Putting my lighter away, I sit down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. What a day. In one day, I've been unexpectedly abducted to an alternate reality, robbed, sold a man into slavery, and bought a slave. I own a person now. Like I just bought a hamster at the pet store and brought it home with me. I should be more bothered by that.

"C'mere. Let me get a better look at you."

Liska obediently approaches, and kneels on the floor beside the bed; the same as at the table? Are slaves really not allowed on the furniture?

I pat the bed beside me and after a moment's hesitation, she sits there. I put one hand on her shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring way, and can feel her trembling. Is she afraid?

Of course she is. She's a slave; I can do anything I want to her, absolutely anything, and she has no choice but to let it happen. The slave trader advertised her selling points as being a virgin, and impossible for me to impregnate, and now I've ordered her to sit on the bed beside me. Of course she's scared. She thinks I'm about to push her down onto the bed and take her right here.

I ruffle her hair with my hands; ugh, her hair is greasy and clearly hasn't been washed in some time. Her tunic is filthy too, and she smells. Not, like, bad body odor or anything, just old sweat. She clearly hasn't been allowed to bathe recently. We'll have to fix that; first thing tomorrow, I'm asking the innkeeper what sort of bathing arrangements are available.

Still stroking her hair, I notice that I should have brushed against her ear, but there's nothing there. Huh. I notice her little hat, made of the same fabric as her tunic, and wonder why she has one and none of the other slaves did. I reach up and take it off... revealing two upright, pointy ears.

Oh. She has fox ears!

Adorable. Fucking adorable. If she didn't already have a name, I'd call her Holo. I feel her ears curiously, and she flicks them as if I've tickled them. They can move! I rub the back of her ears up and down, fascinated, and then begin to scritch and scratch at their base. Her ears flatten out sideways and she looks at me uncertainly. I scratch harder and she gets an odd look on her face, so I scratch a little harder.

Her left leg begins to spasm up and down uncontrollably, just like a dog's.

Hnnnng! Liska, you're so cute, you're going to give me a heart attack!

I relent on scratching her ears as she blushes such a deep shade of red it's visible even in the candlelight, and go back to stroking her ear. That's a good foxgirl. That's a cute foxgirl. It's ok. Everything's ok. Master won't hurt you.

"It's getting late. I think it's time to sleep."

Liska doesn't answer, so I head to the little bathroom closet, shut the door behind me, and pee in the bucket. Then I wash my hands in the basin of water, not wanting Liska to see my reaction to my hand feeling greasy after handling her hair. I don't want to hurt her feelings.

Tomorrow, we'll get you squeaky clean.

I step out and Liska is kneeling on the floor beside the bed again. I go back to the bed and sit on the edge.

"Um, master?"

"Yes?"

"May I relieve myself?"

"Oh. Yes."

"Thank you."

She darts into the bathroom, shutting the sliding door behind her, and I can hear her peeing in the bucket too. How did she find it in the dark? By feel, or does she have some sort of special fox night vision mode? I have no idea how her species works.

She returns quickly and stands beside the bed awkwardly.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"W-would you prefer I sleep at your feet, or beside you?"

She's kinda smelly. And that tunic is filthy and badly in need of washing. But I don't want to hurt her feelings.

"Beside me is fine."

That said, Liska immediately drops down onto the rug next to the bed and curls into a little ball, hugging her knees to her chest in a fetal position. Are slaves expected to sleep on the floor? Is it consideration for her owner, allowing me to have the bed instead of having to share it? Or is she afraid that if she gets in bed with me, I'll force myself on her? I'm missing something here, I'm just not sure what.

Since there's two blankets on the bed, I pull one off and cover her with it, eliciting another look of surprise.

"Thank you, master."

"You're welcome. Go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

I retrieve my self-inflating pillow from my backpack, remove my shoes, socks, and pants and dump them on the chair next to the bed, and stick my .45 pistol under my pillow, one hand resting on it, and blow out the candle. The room is instantly pitch black.

Alone in the dark- well, ok, technically not alone since there's a foxgirl curled up on the floor next to me, but in a dark enough room it's possible to be alone with your thoughts. I lay there in the dark, mind swirling, anxiety building and preventing me from sleeping. I'll never see my family again. I bought a person like property. I'm all alone in a strange world and can never go home again. I'm adrift, on my own, with nothing familiar and no one that I know.

In the dark, I hear a sniffling sound and a soft keening noise; Liska is trying to cry as quietly as possible.

She's a slave. All alone, with no one she knows, in the dark, with a strange man who now owns her like he owns a pair of shoes.

I'm not the only one all alone in unfamiliar territory. In a way, I guess we're both strangers in a strange land.

I reach out into the darkness, find a shoulder under the wool blanket she's buried under, and gently rub it.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhh. It's allright. Go to sleep. Shhhhh."

She makes a hiccuping sound, then quiets down. Eventually I can hear the soft breathing of someone who's fallen asleep. I put my hand back on the grip of my pistol and eventually, somehow, manage to fall asleep myself.

Chapter 2: The Next Day

I'm used to waking up before dawn to go to work, and today is no exception. I'd turned my phone off to save the battery, so my alarm didn't go off; I just woke up at the usual time on my own.

I stared up at the ceiling in near-total darkness. It's so quiet. There's no rumble from the air conditioner, no hum of electricity that you're never really consciously aware of until the power goes out, no glow from a street light outside the window. No glowing LED's from half a dozen electronic appliances to hold back the darkness. No cars driving past. No jackass neighbor mowing his law at six in the morning because he's a boomer with nothing better to do but spend all day, every day tending to his lawn, drinking his sugar-free Monster, and waxing his Corvette. I hate that guy.

It doesn't even smell the same. This room smells of aged wood, clean wool, and a smoky scent I presume is from regular use of candles at night.

This isn't home.

The events of yesterday come rushing back to me and I suddenly feel horribly, horribly homesick. Ironic, isn't it. I hung out on a place for people who felt like they didn't belong, who longed for a place that didn't even exist... and now that I got my wish, I want to go back to where I was.

Now I'm trapped in another world entirely. An alien culture. I can never go back. I didn't fit in there, where I was born and raised, how will I ever fit in here?

Oh. Right. I'm also a slave owner now. My first day in another world, and I bought a girl. And however I justify it, that I needed to find an ally, someone to teach me about this place but who can't betray me, that's just an excuse; I saw a pretty girl and I could have her, whether she wanted me or not, so I bought her.

I roll my head over to look at her, but all I see is a vague blob of darker blackness in the dark. There's a rustling sound and the shape of the blob gets thinner and taller.

Pulling my Zippo out of my pants pocket, I flick it and Liska is blinking and trying to shield her eyes from the unexpected light. Oh, she realized I was awake when I tried to look at her, so she sat up. I light the candle and snap the lid shut on my Zippo, then lay my head back down on my pillow. I look at my watch; the glowing hands read 5:52.

Ugh. I don't want to get up. I don't have work today. I don't have a job at all, for that matter. So I don't have to get up. I lay one arm over my eyes to block out the light from the candle and ponder going back to sleep. I don't have a reason to get up.

Yes I do. I have to take care of Liska. She's mine now, so I'm responsible for her. If I don't get up, she won't get breakfast until I do, and God only knows how hungry she is. The way she ate last night, I'm sure the slave trader wasn't feeding her enough. There's food in my backpack, but she wouldn't understand how to make any of it.

Like a pet owner who suddenly realizes all the extra things he must do to care for his new dog, I grudgingly roll into a seated position on the edge of the bed and grab my pants from the chair. As I pull them on, Liska hobbles over on her knees, rather than stand up, and holds my socks out for me. I put them on, then take my boots as she picks them up and helps me put them on. I finish lacing them, then give her a pat on the head as thanks.

"Shall we eat?"

She promptly launches into a standing position and waits by the door. I almost walk out without it, but then I remember the leash. Dammit, do I really have to lead a girl around on a leash like she's my pet? The only slaves I saw in public without a leash were those who were walking around on their own, probably running errands. Until I have a better idea of what's normal here, I guess I'd better use it.

I grab the leash from the table and snap it onto Liska's collar, then lead her out into the hallway, locking the door behind me. Dammit, I left the candle lit. Well, I'm sure it'll be fine. We head downstairs, where I find the chandelier dark, but the lanterns on the wall sconces lit, and the innkeeper behind the counter, folding and stacking what appear to be napkins or washcloths.

"Good morning, m'lord! Will you be breakfasting with us today?"

"Yes. For both of us, please."

"Certainly, m'lord."

He ducks into the back for a moment, then returns and resumes folding napkins. I sit at the small table in the corner again, setting Liska's leash on the hook, and she sits on the flood beside me, wariza style.

The innkeeper's slave emerges from the kitchen area with a tray and sets down what appear to be two bowls of oatmeal and a pair of mugs. I hand her a silver coin, which appears to be enough to cover the cost, and she passes it to the innkeeper on her way back to the kitchen.

I start eating, then pause when Liska hasn't moved. Do I really need to give her permission every time?

"From now on, if I start eating, you can assume it's ok for you to eat too."

"Yes, master."

I'm not even halfway through my bowl of oatmeal and hers is already polished clean, and her mug empty. I take a drink from my mug and nearly do a spittake; it's milk. Warm milk. And it tastes odd. It's probably fresh from the cow, and almost certainly unpasteurized. I cautiously try another swallow and it doesn't agree with me. I slide my mug over in front of Liska and resume eating my oatmeal.

After a surprised look and a moment's hesitation, she chugs my mug of milk like it's the last one she'll ever get, sets the mug back down, and places her hands in her lap, waiting patiently for me to finish my food. I guess she can afford to be patient; she's got a busy day ahead, being a slave and all.

Actually, she does have a busy day, just probably not what she's expecting. Once I'm finished eating, I grab Liska's leash and she leaps to her feet. We head back upstairs and into the room.

Opening the wooden shutters, cool morning air blows into the room and the glow of the sun just on the other side of the horizon is dimly visible behind the buildings across the street.

"Come here."

She paces over immediately, tail tucked between her legs.

"Sit on the chair."

There's no delay in her obedience, but there's a definite hesitation, as if she's unsure of what she's doing.

"Let me see your feet."

"Master?"

"Come on."

She lifts one foot up and I grab her by the ankle, bringing her foot into the light for a clearer look. The soles of her feet are black with dirt. I compare the size of her foot with my hand; she has such small, dainty feet. I'm not one of those weirdoes you find online with a foot fetish, but hers are pretty cute. Like everything else about her.

She definitely needs shoes. But to get a proper shoe, she'll need to be fitted, and that requires me to drag her through the streets in her bare feet again. If I were barefoot, would I want to walk around on uncomfortable rocks and dirt, or wait at home while someone else brought me shoes? I'd wait. I'd definitely wait. If I get her a pair of sandals, it won't be as important that they fit her properly, and she can wear them while I take her out to get proper clothes and shoes that fit. Yes, that's a good idea. I'll get her sandals so I can take her out in public with me without hurting her delicate feet, and we'll get her all fixed up.

Releasing her foot, I stand and she quickly stands too.

"I'm going out for a bit. You're going to wait here."

"Yes, master."

Can I really leave her alone though? What if she runs away while I'm gone? Or starts going through my stuff? She wouldn't have any concept of half of what's in there, and some of it is dangerous, like a gun. I don't think she'd shoot me, but she might accidentally hurt herself. I have no idea how much I should trust her; if I were a slave, I'd stab the bastard who bought me in the back at the first opportunity and run for it. Maybe having a slave as an ally wasn't such a good idea.

Well, I don't know if I can trust her or not, nor do I want anything to happen to her. I pick up the cloth restraints from the table and, immediately understanding my intent, she turns her back to me and puts her hands behind her so I can tie her hands up. It takes me a minute to figure out how they work, but I eventually get it. Then I attach her leash to one of the hooks by the door and she sits down on the floor, apparently resigning herself to having to wait helplessly until I return.

I'm not such a bad guy. You'll see. Today is all about you, you just don't know it yet. But perhaps I should show her my intentions.

Retrieving a metal tin from my backpack, I remove something precious from it and eat it in front of her. Then I hold a piece out for her. She hesitates, then takes it into her mouth and chews. Hnnnng! I'm feeding a girl by hand.

Her eyes widen in surprise and I smile in satisfaction. She's never had Scho-ka-kola before. Or chocolate of any kind, judging from her reaction. I put the tin back in my pack, pat her on the head, and say, "I'll be back."

This time I remember to blow out the candle before I leave the room. There's enough light coming in the window for her to see, so it's not like I just left her sitting in the dark.

Heading downstairs, I ask the innkeeper what sort of bathing arrangements are available.

"Well, there's a bathhouse a few blocks over, but they're only open in the afternoon and charge quite a bit to get in. If you're just looking to clean yourself up, I can provide a bucket of hot water and some wash cloths and send them up to your room."

"How long will that take?"

He shrugs.

"Maybe half an hour? I'll need to stoke up the fire again to heat the water, but the towels and washcloths are ready."

"Ok, I should be back before then. How much?"

"Half a tarl."

The tarl is one of the silver coins, right? I pull one of the smaller coins out of my pocket and hand it to him, and he hands me back several copper coins. Or maybe they're bronze? The color is odd.

Oh, I just thought of something: I'm usually ok with one towel, but my mother and sister would always wrap their hair in another towel; I guess being long, it was harder to dry. Liska could probably use another towel to dry her hair. And she has a tail too, and it's pretty fluffy looking from what I've seen...

"Could you throw in a couple extra towels, please?"

"Certainly, m'lord. I'll have my woman fetch it to you upon your return."

"Thanks," I say, heading out into the street.

I make my way to where I think I remember the cobbler being; hmmm, no, this is... a toy store? They have dolls of every description, rag dolls, porcelain dolls, wooden dolls, and more. There's a set of painted lead soldiers, with bows, spears, and swords. Odd; I don't see any with firearms. The Thirty Years War was one of the first major wars where firearms were in widespread use by all sides of the conflict. Well, maybe these lead soldiers represent an earlier era. Or all the ones with guns got sold. Or they just don't happen to have any right now.

I'm just turning to leave the shop when I spot something on a shelf by the door. It's a stuffed animal; specifically, a pig. It's a dark pink, almost purple color, and posed as if in a seated position. It has a dignified face and posture, as if it should be wearing a top hat and monocle and be named Mr. Pigglesworth. The only incongruous thing about its appearance is the fact that the painted porcelain eyes make it look as if it has a thousand yard stare.

Mr. Pigglesworth has seen some shit.

Other than the PTSD stare, it honestly kind of reminds me of a stuffed toy I had as a kid. I pick it up and examine it; whatever the stuffing is, it's high quality. Not sawdust, that's for certain. It's soft.

I wonder if Liska would like it? Girls like dolls and stuffed animals, right? I mean, she's in her mid-teens, but c'mon. My sister quit playing with Barbies when she was twelve, but her room was covered in stuffed animals until she turned eighteen and moved out to begin the first in a seemingly endless series of terrible life choices.

I bet Liska would like it.

At two silver tarls, I feel like it's kind of expensive, but it is pretty nice quality. This is probably the nice end of town anyway, where the more affluent people shop.

I step back outside into the morning sun, stuffed pig in hand (shopping bags aren't a thing here, apparently) and look around, but I don't see the cobbler I saw yesterday anywhere. Hmm. Maybe I can ask for directions?

"Excuse me!"

I call out to the nearest person before I've even consciously registered what they look like and almost immediately regret it.

It's a catgirl. A topless catgirl. She's clad in a very short skirt, lace-up sandals, and a slave collar, and nothing else. She pauses in her tracks, tail lashing and ears flattening out to the sides as she looks at me uncertainly.

Great. This is awkward.

"Uh, where is the nearest cobbler?"

The catgirl points a couple buildings over, then backs up a couple steps before turning and continuing on her errand, an empty sack in hand. She didn't seem comfortable having someone interact with her unexpectedly. Maybe people aren't supposed to talk to other people's slaves? Or is it because her boobs are exposed for all the world to see and some strange guy is calling out to her?

Whatever. I head in the direction she pointed and find the cobbler I'd seen yesterday.

Stepping inside, there's a variety of shoes on display, some of them more modern looking than I expected, but they're all right shoes. Ah, right. Since they're all made by hand, they don't just make generic sizes in mass quantities and have you try them on to find a pair that fits, they measure your feet and custom make your shoes. The display models just let you choose the style you want.

There's some moccasin-looking things, and flip-flop style sandals for sale. I compare a couple pairs of sandals to my hand the same way I measured Liska's feet and find some sandals that should be around the right size. They're surprisingly cheap, cleaning out my entire supply of copper coins I got as change earlier.

I head back with my new purchases in hand, deciding that the next time I go shopping I'll have to bring something to carry things in. That's probably why the catgirl had that sack with her; she was out shopping for her master.

As I step into the inn, still not used to the string used to open doors around here, the innkeeper looks over at me from where he's cleaning a table with a wet rag.

"Ah, good timing! The water is nice and hot. I'll have it sent up to your room right away."

"Thank you."

"Not at all, m'lord."

I head up to the room, unlock the door, pull on the string, and step inside. What do they do if some prankster pushes the string through the hole so it's inside the room, or the string breaks when you pull on it? How do they get the door open?

Liska is kneeling by the door. I toss my purchases onto the bed and gesture for her to stand so I can remove her restraints. As I work on removing the cloth restraints, she says, "the inn slave came to empty the bucket, but I told her I didn't have permission to open the door."

Not that she could have, since I locked it and took the key with me, and her hands were tied behind her back to boot, but I'm sure she didn't explain all that.

As I'm taking her leash off, I note the uncomfortable expression on Liska's face.

"What is it?"

"M... may I relieve myself, master?"

"From now on, you don't need permission to go to the bathroom. When you need to do it, just do it."

"Thank you, master."

She slips into the bathroom, emerging just as there's a knock on the door. I open it and the slave woman that works at the inn is standing there, a bucket of steaming water in her hands and fresh towels slung over her shoulder. I move to take the bucket from her, but Liska darts over and takes it instead. Ah. She is a slave, after all, so I guess it's expected that she would do such things instead of her master. The inn slave bows toward me slightly as she passes the towels to Liska, then picks up an empty bucket from the hall and enters the bathroom, swapping it with the old one and exiting the room with it, not once saying a single word the entire time she was there.

"Shall I place this in the bathroom, master?"

"Yes, thank you."

While Liska struggles with the bucket (is it really that heavy?), I open my backpack and remove my toiletries kit, open a plastic zipper bag, and remove a bottle of shampoo, a bar of pine tar soap, and my comb. Normally I don't take such things camping, except maybe the bar of soap, but since I was going to bring my nephew along I was camping in a tenderfoot campsite with bathrooms and a shower facility. Because modern city-dwellers are pussies. Half of them probably die in the woods wandering around looking for a tree they can plug their phone charger into.

I grab the candle and bring it into the bathroom, surprising Liska, who now finds me blocking the only exit. I pull the little stool under the wash basin out and into the center of the floor, then sit on the bench with the hole in it that serves as a toilet.

"Sit," I say, pointing at the stool.

Awkwardly, and clearly wondering what I'm doing, Liska obeys.

"No, sit with your back toward me."

She dutifully turns to face the open door that's currently the only source of light. I pull out my Zippo and she looks at it curiously as it opens with a clang, apparently fascinated by how I can create fire with just the flick of my thumb. They probably use a flint and steel to start fires here. Lighting the candle, I place it on the shelf next to the wash basin, snap my lighter shut, and stick it back in my pocket.

"Ok then, let's get you cleaned up."

Clearly startled, Liska opens her mouth, then closes it.

"Arms up; skin the rabbit," I say, repeating a phrase my parents used to say when they helped me take my shirt off as a toddler. Liska, confused, hesitantly raises her arms and I whip her soiled tunic off over her head. Her initial reaction is to try to cover her chest, but she checks it, instead very deliberately placing her hands on her thighs. She's trembling now and biting her lip.

There's no need to be scared, little fox. Master's just going to get you squeaky clean.

"Let's start with your hair."

"Is master going to wash Liska?"

"Yup."

"But... but master is Liska's owner, and Liska is a slave!"

"Right. But I want to get you nice and clean."

Her face flushing a deep red, Liska quietly replies, "I can bathe myself..."

I give her a mock stern look, which she may misinterpret for the real thing, and solemnly intone, "Your master wants to clean you himself."

".... yes, master."

"Now, let's start with your hair."

Together, we get her hair thoroughly soaked in the hot water, and I use an extra amount of shampoo. She seems to be a little confused by the lather, but I work it into her hair thoroughly, making sure to shampoo her ears too. It's a manly woodsman scent, like the pine tar soap, but getting her clean is more important than making her smell girly. It takes a surprising amount of water from the bucket to rinse all the shampoo from her hair. Then I begin combing her hair, making her wince once or twice when I accidentally pull her hair while trying to work out all the snarls and knots, but it's eventually done. Then I lather her up for a second time, work it all into her hair, and rinse again, making sure her hair is all clean.

"Next is your tail."

Liska's cheeks redden slightly, but she shifts on the stool to present her rear to me and I begin the same cleaning process as her hair. Her tail is a couple of feet long and bony, with a suprising amount of fur on it. Even wet, it's clear that the fur on her tail and ears is a different color from the hair on her scalp; the fur is more of a foxy orange, while her hair is a more natural shade of bright red. They go together nicely. She yelps once when my comb gets caught in a particularly nasty knot of fur, but doesn't protest. I only shampoo her tail once, and now that it's soaking wet, it hangs limp and shriveled.

Now for the fun part. I dunk a rag in the hot water, which has cooled somewhat but is still quite warm, and begin scrubbing her back. Liska clearly hasn't been doing anything filthy like digging a trench outdoors or other dirty jobs like what I do on a regular basis, but she still has accumulated an impressive amount of grime simply from not bathing for an extended period. I make sure to scrub her back very thoroughly.

Then I move on to her shoulders; she tenses up for a moment, then relaxes slightly as I clean down the length of one arm, all the way down to her soft, delicate fingertips, then down the length of the other. She then tenses up again, stiffening and flushing an impressive shade of red, her tail sticking straight out behind her, as I begin to wipe her breasts with the wet rag.

Hnnnng! They're wonderful. I can't see them since her back is to me, but they're the perfect size, just a handful, with small nipples. Pert, firm, and shapely. I was thorough in scrubbing her back and arms, soaping them down, and rinsing, but I make sure to wash her breasts even more thoroughly. Twice. Then I move on to her belly, her butt, her thighs, and finally between her legs.

Liska squeezes her eyes shut, her hands squeezing her thighs, as I lather the bar of soap in my hand and rub her crotch with my bare hand. She's... very smooth, actually. I haven't found even a trace of body hair on her.

Since she's definitely uncomfortable, I relent and only wash her privates once. Then I have her turn to the side and wash down the length of her legs, scrubbing the soles of her feet and between her toes very thoroughly. The water in the bucket is beginning to acquire a black tinge to it from all the dirt and grime her bare feet accumulated walking around the streets.

Now that my adorable foxgirl is squeaky clean, I wrap her in a towel, and begin vigorously drying her hair and tail with another towel each. Maybe my mom and sister were on to something, because that amount of hair really does require its own separate towel. With a little urging, Liska dries her body on her own while I comb her hair and tail again.

"There, all done!"

I help her up off the stool and lead her out of the bathroom by the hand, then retrieve my little mirror that the old man tried to steal from my toiletry kit.

"Here, have a look. Much better, don't you think?"

Liska takes the mirror from me, then seems amazed.

"I've never used a mirror before!"

She's momentarily distracted from her embarassment, so I take the opportunity to get my first good look at her naked body in the light while she examines herself in the mirror and touches her face.

Slender, short, and delicately built. Pale skin, possibly because she's a redhead and possibly because she spends most of her time indoors, and bright pink nipples. My eyes confirm what my hand reported: other than her tail and head, there isn't a hair anywhere on her body. I wonder if that's supposed to appeal to prospective buyers, or if it's a hygiene thing; if the latter, why let her shave, but not bathe? Her tail is much poofier now, and twitching excitedly as she plays with the little mirror. The tip of her tail is black, just like the tips of her ears; before, she was so dirty and grimy it was hard to tell that the tips were a different color from the rest.

I take the mirror from her and stroke her hair, causing her to flush again as she remembers she's standing naked in front of a strange man.

I sit on the edge of the bed, then pat my lap.

"C'mon. Sit here."

She immediately complies, but is very tense again. I put one arm around her waist gently, partly to comfort her and partly to keep her from trying to escape, and use my other hand to gently stroke her hair. Her hair smells like sandalwood and mint now. Much nicer than old sweat.

"So. I think it's time we discuss why I bought you."

She doesn't reply, apparently letting me lead the conversation.

"I'm from a very, very far away place. I've never been to this country, and I don't know anything about this country, its people, or its customs. I bought you so I'd have someone who could teach me about this country. I have to learn about it, because I may be here for a very long time."

She still doesn't answer. I switch from stroking her hair to scratching her ears, causing her to twitch her ears. She's clutching the tip of her tail. Oh. Right. Naked. And sitting in my lap. Probably giving her a bit of a creeper vibe right now. I reach into my backpack and retrieve a spare t-shirt.

"Arms up."

She complies, and I slide the shirt over her head and arms, then tug it down to her waist. It's huge on her, looser than the tunic but about the same length if you exclude the extra bit sewed onto the bottom.

Now with a layer of cloth between her body and me, maybe she'll feel a little more comfortable. I resume alternately stroking her hair and scratching her ears.

"Now, I understand you didn't finish training to be a tutor, but you still know more about this place than I do. You were born here, right?"

She nods, still uncomfortable but feeling a little more at ease now that she has the shirt on.

"Good. Do you know how to read and write?"

She nods again. I scritch at one ear a little harder and she gets an odd look on her face, then her left leg begins to spasm, her little heel bouncing off my shin. That's so frigging cute! She blushes again, but I intensify the ear scratching and her leg twitches uncontrollably as her face changes to a look of startled enjoyment. Ah-ha! Weakness detected. My little foxgirl likes getting her ears scratched, even if it does make her leg twitch like a dog's. I relent after a moment and go back to gently stroking her hair.

"You're very important to me, Liska. So I need to make something clear: there are things in my backpack you wouldn't understand. Some of them are very easy to break, and I would be very upset if you broke them accidentally. Some things in there can hurt you. Badly. I would be even more upset if you got hurt. So stay out of my backpack, understand?"

She nods, her expression making it clear that she understands this is not something to take lightly.

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull something out to show her; it's my old Zune.

"See this? Do you know what it is?"

She shakes her head; she also very carefully doesn't touch it.

I stick the earbuds in her ears; they don't fit very well, since she has fox ears, not human ears, so I end up just holding one in with my hand while the other dangles down. Then I turn the Zune on. Hmmm... I bet she'd like Pachelbel's Canon in D.

Her face lights up in pure amazement as music magically begins to play in her ear. I guide her hand up to hold the earbud in, then insert the other one and she holds it in place without prompting. On her face is an expression of pure, delighted rapture.

"Wha- it's music! How-?"

"This is one of the things I told you you wouldn't understand. Looking at it, you wouldn't have any idea what it does, would you?"

She shakes her head, still amazed as she clutches the earbuds to her fuzzy fox ears.

"Do you like it?"

She nods vigorously, an expression of pure joy still on her face.

I scroll through the menu and decide to experiment; is she actually speaking English, and they just call it Hratchan here, or is there some sort of magical translation effect going on?

My Sharona begins thumping into her ears.

"Can you understand what they're singing?"

She shakes her head.

"I've never heard music like this before!"

Hmmm. I switch to Veteran of the Psychic Wars.

"Can you understand what they're saying?"

She shakes her head again.

"It's sounds like barbarians."

"What?"

"Bar bar bar bar," she says.

Oh. She's saying it just sounds like gibberish to her. The word barbarian comes from a derogatory term the ancient Greeks invented for foreigners; anyone who didn't speak a civilized language like Greek might as well just go around saying things like "bar bar bar bar" for as much as anyone could understand them. I think they also invented the joke "well if these barbarians didn't like us killing them and setting fire to their villages, they'd just say so instead of yelling at us in those silly noises." The ancient Greeks may have kickstarted western civilization and concepts like democracy, philosophy, and algebra, but if you read ancient Greek history and mythology, they spent an awful lot of time being complete dicks. And thinking it was hilarious.

I turn the Zune off and retrieve the earbuds from her, tossing it in the backpack with the rest of my gear.

"Did you like it?"

She nodded vigorously.

The battery is brand new and fully charged, so it wouldn't hurt to let her listen to it now and then. Plus, I've got a little solar charger; it would take all day to charge the Zune or my phone, but it can be done. I've also got a fully charged power bank and adaptors, which can in turn also be charged with the solar charger, so I can actually keep my electronic gadgets running for a long time. I really only brought the power bank and solar charger in case of an emergency since I was only going to be in the woods for three days, but now I'm really glad I did.

"Well, if you're a good girl, you can listen to it some more later. But for now, I've got something for you."

I scootch her off my lap and she stands there, looking uncertain. I present her with the pair of sandals and tell her to try them on. They fit quite tolerably.

"Thank you, master! I'll take good care of them."

"I'm glad you like them," I say, patting her head. "Later, we'll get you some real shoes and some new clothes."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, master!" she replies anxiously.

"Nonsense. I own you now, so I'm responsible for you. You're in my care now."

"Y-yes, master," she says, her ears flattening to the sides somewhat as she looks awkward again.

Glancing at my watch, I see it's almost noon. Really? It took that long to eat breakfast, go buy some sandals for my nubile slave girl, bathe her, and impress her with technology from the future?

"Are you hungry?"

She nods.

"Bring me your leash, then."

She obeys, and I clip her leash onto her collar and lead her out into the hall, locking the door behind me.

Dammit. I left the candle lit in the bathroom this whole time. I unlock the door and go back inside to extinguish the candle, which has burned down significantly now, then lead Liska back into the hall, lock the door again, and head downstairs.

Lunch consists of fried chicken, served room temperature, black bread, and some sort of vegetable I suspect is a variety of turnip. I don't care for it, so I put mine on Liska's plate and she gobbles it down enthusiastically. Once again, she finishes eating before I'm even halfway through with my meal. Do they really not feed slaves enough?

Heading back upstairs, I sit down on the bed and Liska kneels on the floor. I honestly didn't have any real plan for today beyond bathing Liska, and since it's not like I have all kinds of tasks to keep my slave busy, she doesn't have anything to do either.

Screw it. Let's do the one thing that makes every girl happy and go shopping.

I stand up and Liska leaps to her feet again. I grab her leash off the table and she slips her sandals back on in anticipation of going somewhere.

Stepping out into the street, I head in the direction of the shops I visited earlier. We get a few odd looks, but I'm not sure if it's more because of my outlandish clothing, or Liska walking around in a t-shirt that's just barely long enough to preserve her modesty, if she doesn't raise her arms above her head. When I glance behind me, she's walking with her tail tucked between her legs, which has to make walking awkward. Is she trying to cover her privates, or hide her tail? She did sew an extra bit of length to her tunic and make a hat that concealed her ears. Are animal people, or whatever they're referred to as, discriminated against here? Was she bullied for being a foxgirl? Or am I missing some culture more here?

We step into what looks to be a clothes shop and I tell the woman working there, who isn't a slave, that I need a proper set of clothes for Liska. She pulls Liska aside and takes her measurements, then asks me what sort of clothes I want.

"Something cute," I say. She looks at me as if waiting for me to elaborate, but then I shrug helplessly. Sorry lady, I don't know a thing about girls clothes. Even when I had a girlfriend, I never went shopping for one.

She gives me a 'oh, one of those' look and immediately begins chattering with Liska, leading her around the shop to look at different fabrics and showing her some patterns drawn on oddly glossy paper. They come to a decision and the woman tells me, "it will take two days to make. Please come by in the evening, day after tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you."

The woman looks at me oddly for a second, then curtsies and returns to her fabrics, clearly about to launch into a flurry of activity now that she has work to do. I've never been the recipient of a proper curtsy before; even if they wear a dress, modern girls have no idea how to curtsy.

New clothes for Liska ordered, I lead her back to the cobbler's shop and order some proper shoes. I pick out a mary jane shoe, which Liska seems to like as well, and the cobbler measures her feet, then says to come back in three days. Realizing I never asked the woman how much Liska's outfit would cost, I ask the cobbler and he responds, "two tarls. Three if you want glossy leather."

They can make glossy leather? Liska would look cute in shiny mary janes. I want glossy leather, and tell him so.

Liska looks slightly concerned.

"Master? Is it really allright to buy such expensive shoes for me to wear? The sandals will be enough."

"No, it's fine. I have plenty of money right now."

She still looks uncomfortable; I guess she's not used to the idea of a slave getting to wear nice things. But I saw a couple slaves who were clearly decked out in very fancy, and expensive, outfits, so it's not like this is all that unusual. Maybe she just doesn't consider herself one of those high-end slaves, or doesn't feel she's worth it. I feel she's worth it. You're a high-end slave to me, Liska. As far as I'm concerned, you're the highest, top-tier slave there is. She's just so cute.

I gently chuck her chin with a grin, then pat her on the head. She smiles back shyly. There's a good foxgirl. There's a cute foxgirl!

Stop that. She's a person, not your pet.

Oh, what the hell. I bought and paid for her, and she has fox ears and a tail; if I want her to be my pet, then she's my pet.

There's a good foxgirl!

I lead her back to the inn, removing her leash and tossing it on the table next to her restraints, and she slips her sandals off and carefully puts them by the door. I sit on the edge of the bed again while she slips into the bathroom, then quickly comes back out. Now that she's all clean and has a nice outfit on order, she's looking quite a bit more chipper than she did before.

"Show me how you can write," I say. I need to evaluate her literacy. Not that I can read what she writes, but I can confirm how comfortable she is with writing. If she's unsure or unused to it, I'll be able to use that to judge how useful she would be in teaching me to read or write in Hratchan.

She trots over as I pull a scrap of paper from my pocket, a receipt from the gas station for some snacks I bought for the camping trip. Dammit, I left the bag with the potato chips on my desk. I'll never get to eat them.

I hand Liska the paper and pull the chair out from the desk/table thing and gesture for her to sit there. She does, then looks around uncertainly.

"Um, master, do you have a pen and ink?"

I reach into my jacket pocket, which has a set of pen holders inside, containing a pen, a mechanical pencil, and a Sharpie, respectively. I pull the pen out and hand it to her. She's befuddled. Oh, right. She's never seen a ballpoint pen before. Or any pen you don't have to dip in ink, for that matter. I reach over and move her thumb to click the pen, showing her how to do it. She clicks it a couple of times, obviously not understanding the purpose.

"Try writing with it."

She scribbles on the paper, reacting with amazement when ink appears on the paper.

"Th-this is incredible! Master has such amazing things! Music in a wooden block, and a pen that doesn't need ink!"

Wooden block? Well, I guess she wouldn't know what plastic is. Maybe she interpreted it as lacquered wood or something.

"Try writing 'Liska'."

She writes her own name very confidently, then proudly shows it to me. The letters look more like Cyrillic, Russian characters, than anything I'm familiar with.

"Now write 'Liska is a foxgirl'."

"Foxgirl?"

"What do you call yourself, then?"

"I'm a vixen," she says in the manner of someone explaining the obvious to someone she doesn't want to offend by making them feel stupid.

"Ok, write 'Liska is a vixen' then."

I'm still calling you a foxgirl, you pretty vixen, you.

She writes it down, still marveling at the pen, and shows it to me.

"Good job. Show me how to write 'Liska is a pretty vixen'."

Her cheeks tinge a rosy shade of pink when I say that, but she complies. Comparing that sentence to the previous one, it seems to follow the same sentence structure as English, with the adjective preceding the noun. Unless I'm reading it entirely wrong and the word order is way different. No, every sentence starts with Liska, so it has to be the same sentence structure as English. Definitely. Maybe. I'm confused.

"Now write 'Liska obeys her master'."

She writes it down and shows me it to me, her expression carefully neutral this time. Hmmm. What's that mean? Does she not like the idea of obeying me, or did I suddenly remind her she has to be on her best behavior for her owner? Or some third thing that isn't even occurring to me?

"Very good," I say, patting her on the head to express my pleasure. I take the pen from her and put it back in my jacket, leaving the receipt on the table.

"So, feeling better now that you're all clean?"

She nods.

"Yes, thank you very much, master. You didn't have to do such a thing."

"I like you; I want to take good care of you," I reply, watching her flush and smile nervously when I tell her I like her. "Just remember to take good care of me too, ok?"

She nods, looking at me oddly.

"Now then, I've had a long journey getting here yesterday, and I'm still tired. I think it's time for a nap."

I'm stretching the truth quite a bit on the 'long journey' part, but I really am tired. Finding myself in another world has been surprisingly stressful.

As I begin tugging my boots off, I casually ask, "Would you like to take a nap too?"

"Yes, please."

"Ok. Let's take a nap then."

"Thank you, master."

Liska starts to curl up on the rug again as I get my boots off, hang my jacket on the back of the chair, and begin removing my pants.

"No, not there."

She looks over her shoulder at me, ears perking up as a puzzled look crosses her face. I set my pants on the chair, then slide under the wool blanket and pat the bed beside me.

"Here."

She adopts a carefully neutral expression again, obediently rising off the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next. I reach over and slide her toward the center of the bed next to me; she's surprisingly light. I bet I could carry her with no problem.

She's trembling again and looks like she's about to cry. Well, it's only natural for her to be a little scared in this situation. Don't worry, little Liska; your virginity is safe.

For now.

I retrieve the stuffed pig from where it was forgotten at the foot of the bed and hand it to her.

"I got him for you. What do you think? Do you like him?"

She nods slightly.

"Good. I'm glad you like him. Now you have a soft pig," I gently kiss her on the forehead. "And I have a soft Liska."

I scootch her into position with her back against me, forming the little spoon, and put my arm around her. She clutches Mr. Pigglesworth to her chest tightly, her tail tucked between her legs and poofing out in front of her. I lay my head down on my self-inflating camp pillow and close my eyes.

After another minute or so, she seems to believe I'm really not going to do anything but nap beside her and the trembling subsides. She relaxes finally, and after a little while, I can hear- and feel- her breathing change to that of someone who's fallen asleep.

Poor little Liska. You're under a lot of stress too, aren't you.

Hugging my little foxgirl to me, I allow myself to drift off to sleep too.

Chapter 3: Tutoring

I wake up feeling refreshed, and glance at my watch. I was asleep for two hours. Looking down, I just see a pair of fox ears and a mess of red hair poking out from under the blanket. Using my left arm, I awkwardly toss the blanket back to reveal Liska.

She's curled into a ball around my right arm, her tail, and Mr. Pigglesworth. Hnnnng! Even sleeping, she's so cute I'm about to suffer a heart attack! Or maybe diabetes.

I extract my arm from the ball of foxgirl wrapped around it, then gently shake her.

"Time to wake up."

"Nn-nn!" she moans, curling up tighter. I consider letting her sleep just a little longer when her eyes suddenly shoot open and a split second later she literally launches herself off the bed and prostrates herself on the floor in front of me.

"I'm sorry, master! I didn't mean to be disobedient!"

She seems genuinely scared. Would someone really punish their slave, even a favorite bedwarmer, for sleepily refusing to get out of bed?

Yeah. Probably. Otherwise she wouldn't think it was likely to happen now. Prompt obedience and absolute compliance are probably demanded by every slave owner here, on penalty of harsh punishment.

"I'll let it slide this time. C'mere," I say, patting my lap. "Let's fix your hair."

While she slept burrowed under the blanket, she got a bad case of bed head. She approaches uncertainly, as if still expecting punishment, while I retrieve my comb. I pat my lap again and she turns around and sits.

"Good girl."

I start running my comb through her hair, making it look neat again, while humming to myself. She gradually relaxes in my lap as I work a snarl out of her hair, then go back to brushing her hair into place. I gently pat her on the head once that's finished, then run the comb through the fluffy fur on her tail a few times, even though it isn't needed.

That finished, I set the comb down and stroke her hair with my hand a few times. She's so pretty. Liska really is one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen, and she's all mine. I'm glad she's mine. I scritch her ears, causing her to flick them rapidly for a moment before closing her eyes and allowing herself to enjoy it. There's a good girl. There's a good foxy, foxy fox. I scritch harder and she opens her eyes again, looking vaguely distressed as her left leg begins twitching and spasming. With my other arm, the one I put around her waist to hold her still, I gently pat her thigh and smile, and continue the vigorous scratching at the base of her ears to let her know it's nothing to be shy about. She closes her eyes again and her face scrunches intently, her leg bouncing uncontrollably as she actually leans into my scratching. There's a good girl. See? Nothing to be embarassed about. It's adorable.

I relent after a bit, going back to stroking her hair, and Liska sighs in satisfaction. That really does feel good, huh? Hmmm. There's something else my dog enjoyed when I was a kid, besides getting his ears scratched. I lift up the hem of the t-shirt to gain access and begin scratching at the base of her tail.

Liska's legs shoot apart, her back arches, and her eyes widen; if I hadn't had one arm around her waist, she would have flown out of my lap.

"It's ok, sit still."

She looks at me nervously for a moment, then turns to face forward again, ears cocked to the sides. I start scratching the base of her tail again and she stays very still. I intensify the scratching, moving around a bit to find the right spot and... success. Her tail curls upward and she shifts her rump in my lap to grant me better access. I scratch harder and she bites her lip, clearly enjoying the sensation.

"You like that?"

She nods hesitantly. Trusting her to stay put, I take my other arm and reach up to scratch her left ear at the same time I'm scratching her tail. Her back arches and she closes her eyes in pure bliss for a moment, then blushes again when both legs start twitching this time. Bingo. Maximum scratching pleasure achieved. I continue this for a bit, then slowly ease off on the scratching until I stop entirely. She melts like butter in my lap, leaning against my chest and sighing happily. The secret to making my little vixen feel good has been unlocked. I let her rest there for a while longer until she starts to feel awkward; she looks over her shoulder to give me a questioning look, and when I nod she hops off my lap and stands before me, holding her tail in her hands shyly.

I stand up and pat her head affectionately, then I slide my pants back on and sit in the chair. Liska kneels beside me, looking at me attentively.

I flip the receipt on the table over so I have more blank space to write on, and retrieve my pen. I need to take notes.

"Ok, Liska, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your knowledge. If you don't know something or you're unsure, just tell me; I promise I won't be upset just because you don't know something."

She nods, apparently believing me. The interrogation begins.

We're located in the principality of Ossetria, ruled by Prince Jan. The principality is a member state of a large confederation of principalities, duchies, and free cities, known as the Kingdom of Broheim. Supposedly, the king is supreme ruler of the kingdom, but this actually only applies within a large principality called Prusk, which he is also the prince of. In the wider kingdom, he's subject to pressure from the various nobles, and in spite of theoretically being supreme ruler, he actually has very little actual power, at least in terms of domestic policy. Traditionally, the king is also the prince of Prusk, but the crown isn't hereditary, the heads of the various member states vote for which noble will be next to be king. Each member state has their own currency, though many of them have adopted the 'official' currency of the kingdom; this still has problems though, as each region can subdivide the 'standard' currency any way they please; Ossetria has decimalized, with ten copper coins adding up to a small silver coin, ten small silver coins adding up to a big silver coin, and ten big silver coins adding up to a small gold coin. The others have bizarre subdivisions, with one neighboring duchy dividing the currency into thirds, sixths, and twelths, another dividing it into sevenths and fourteenths, and a nearby free city dividing it into hundredths and issuing tiny silver coins colloquially known as "fish scales" and doing away with copper coins entirely. Apparently nobody likes the "fish scales" because their tiny size makes them easy to lose, and their value is so low you need a handful of them for things that would otherwise cost a single coin.

The member states of the Kingdom of Broheim are divided into three factions: north, which all adopted the official currency of the kingdom and also standardized their weaponry and military units, the south, which standardized their currency, military organization, and apparently their system of writing around a different set of standards, mostly to oppose the north that they saw as being too dominant in kingdom politics and finance, and the east, which had no standard currency, a mish-mash of different military standards and equipment, and didn't even necessarily speak the same language(s) as the rest of the kingdom. The east was much smaller than the other two regions/factions though, and largely considered politically irrelevent since they rarely cooperate with one another.

There was also a religious divide. The north mostly consisted of followers of the orthodox church, much like the king, the south mostly consisted of followers of the reform church, and the east was a mixture of the two as well as one or two regions where 'pagan beliefs' were dominant. Apparently the law of the kingdom was that the people in any given region were supposed to practice the same religion as their ruling noble, so if a duke was orthodox, everyone in the duchy was orthodox, and if he was reform, everyone was reform. Several of the free cities and one or two smaller duchies or principalities allowed freedom of religion, but these were mostly in the east.

So all in all, the political and religious situation really was similar to the Holy Roman Empire in the early 1600's. Apparently the kingdom wasn't involved in any wars, however, civil or otherwise; political, economic, and religious tensions were all being carefully balanced by the king, who had support from some nobles intent on maintaining peace and stability within the kingdom and dissent from other nobles who resented the king exercising power of any kind over them. There was also the looming threat of outside forces that kept even the most intransigent members of the kingdom in the alliance, though Liska couldn't tell me who or what they were; apparently, prior to becoming a slave and being trained as a tutor, she'd had little to no awareness of the situation within the wider kingdom as a whole, and knew even less about other nations.

"You weren't born a slave?"

"No," she replies uncomfortably. "My father sold me to pay off his gambling debts last year."

Oh.

"I had two brothers, but boys can't be enslaved unless they've committed a crime, so when some men came to... remind, him about his debts, he took me into the city and sold me. He said I was pretty enough they'd make me a sex slave, so he should get a lot of money for me."

"But I asked the slave trader for a tutor, not a sex slave." Although he did explicitly advertise her as such, with features like 'virgin' and 'you can't get her pregnant because she's a different species' pointed out.

"When they found out I could read Hratchan and Cursci, the common tongue, they decided I would be more valuable as a tutor and, erm, as a sex slave both."

"I see. How come you can read both? Is being able to read common?"

She shakes her head.

"Not at all. Only nobles and clergy can read Hratchan usually, and only educated commoners can read Cursci. Most commoners, especially in the countryside, can't read at all, or very little."

"So how did you learn to read?"

"My father works as a parchment maker. He sold parchment and velum to a monastary nearby, and since I was the oldest child, he had me deliver it. I liked to look at the pretty drawings and words the monks drew on the parchment so they could make books, and the oldest scribe took a liking to me. I used to sit on his knee while he inscribed and illuminated pages, and he taught me to read while he did it. Otherwise I would only know how to read a few words in Cursci, and none at all in Hratchan."

She looks to the side for a moment, ears flattening, and quietly says, "Father used to beat me for taking so long coming back from the monastary, but in the end it got him a better price when he sold me."

I do believe I detect a little bitterness there.

"What you would do if you were freed? Would you go back to your family?"

Liska shook her head.

"No. Father would just sell me again as soon as his gambling got him back into debt. Mother never cared as long as she had her cheap wine, and my brothers... the youngest was a sweet boy, but I haven't seen him in a year. The older one was a bully. He didn't listen to me much, since I was a girl. I wouldn't go back. It's not home."

Ah. Perhaps she's more like me than either of us realized: neither of us really feel like we belong.

I reach out and tousle her hair, eliciting another flick of her ears, and smile gently.

"Well, I own you now, so this is your home."

"Yes, master."

I glance at my watch and see that it's getting late. Liska stirs curiously and asks, "Master? May I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Why do you keep looking at your jewelry?"

"It's a watch."

She gives me a mystified look, as if that explained nothing.

"It tells me the time."

"Oh!" she says, suddenly enlightened. "It's a clock! I've seen one before, in the monastary. They used it to know when it was time for their prayers."

She peers at my watch, fascinated.

"I've never seen one so small though..."

She really is curious. A curious mind is a clever one. Such a smart little foxgirl.

"Master, there's something else..."

"Go on."

"What does 'ok' mean? I've heard you say it several times."

Ah. Ok. The term originated in America and has since become the single most popular loanword in the world. Its origins are a mystery, but it was popularized by the presidential campaign for Martin Van Buren, whose nickname was Old Kinderhook. 'Vote for OK'.

"It means 'allright', 'good', approval, acceptance, or agreement."

"Oh. Ok."

She catches on quickly. Such a smart foxgirl. I pat her on the head to show my approval and she smiles back.

"I think it's about time for dinner."

She leaps to her feet at the mention of food. I pick up her leash and snap it onto her collar, lock the door behind us, and head downstairs.

Dinner is a white stew with potatoes, carrots, onions, and chunks of chicken floating in it, and a hunk of black bread. Liska practically inhales her food, then glances at mine. I've shared my food with her twice before, but she knows it would be overstepping her boundaries as a slave to ask her master to give up any of his food for her.

"Still hungry?"

She nods hopefully, ears pricked up at attention.

I wave to the innkeeper to get his attention, and when he comes over I ask him for a second helping. He sets it in front of me, not Liska, and I scoot the bowl and bread in front of her. She gobbles it all down and then leans back on her heels, smiling contentedly.

"Thank you, master."

I finish my dinner and, taking her leash, lead her back upstairs to our room. It's getting dark, so I pull out my lighter and light the candle, then close the shutters to the window. Liska is giving me a curious look.

"How do you light fire so easily?"

I pull out the Zippo and explain its workings to her. She stares at in fascination.

"So ingenius! Do they have lots of these where you're from?"

"Yes, they do."

"This is so much more convenient than using a flint and steel! You could get rich just selling these!"

I probably could, too. Assuming they make proper fuel, I could work with a blacksmith to develop a prototype. Hmm, they don't have the rare earth elements used to make the 'flint' for a lighter, but a wheellock pistol from this era works roughly the same way a Zippo lighter does, and those used iron pyrite to strike the sparks. It would probably be bulkier than a Zippo, but I bet I could make a functional lighter with currently available technology and sell it. That's definitely something to look into; I may have plenty of money for the moment, but I need to think long term. I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, after all.

"Would you like to listen to music again?"

She nods enthusiastically, so I pull out the Zune, show her how to use it, and let her at it. She kneels on the rug, holding the earbuds in with her hands, and gently rocks from side to side with the music. I sit in the chair and, flipping the receipt over to the side Liska had written on, I make a few notes for ideas on how to make money. Medieval Zippo lighters, for one. In the 1700's, they used what was basically a flintlock pistol mechanism to strike sparks for lighting fires; if my lighter idea works, that would be pointless given the added bulk of what is basically a pistol versus a lighter that fits in the pocket, but if the lighter design doesn't pan out, the flintlock striker would. Actually, during the Thirty Years War, an era this world is roughly analogous to, firearms of the era were mostly matchlocks, which relied on a slow-burning fuse, or a more complicated wheellock, which was less susceptible to damp weather and didn't require a constantly burning fuse, but wasn't all that reliable and was very complicated to build. The flintlock replaced both designs since it was simpler than the wheelock, and more convenient and reliable than either design. Depending on how advanced firearms are here, I may be able to revolutionize weaponry decades, or even a century, earlier than in my world. That would definitely pave the way for me to become a wealthy man. What else? I could introduce the steam engine; paddleboats, trains, and more would likewise revolutionize this world, more so than slightly improved firearms. I'd go down in history as a genius inventor.

Having run out of ideas that could potentially work and dismissed a few that obviously wouldn't since I don't know how to replicate the technology, I set the pen and paper down, then snap my fingers a couple times to get Liska's attention. She perks up, removing the earbuds and looking at me to see what I want.

"That's enough music. It's getting late, so we should get ready for bed."

She hands the Zune back to me and I switch it off, sticking it in my backpack.

"May I please listen to it again tomorrow, master?"

"Sure. But for now, it's bedtime."

Liska walks over on her knees and helps me remove my boots and socks, then waits patiently to the side while I slide my pants off and set them in the chair. Throwing back the blanket, I climb into bed, then pat the mattress next to me. She gets up from the rug, where she was evidently waiting to see if she should sleep there, and perches on the edge of the bed, looking at me uncertainly. I pat the bed again and she lays beside me. Putting one arm around her shoulders, I gently stroke her hair a couple times, gazing down and admiring her bare, shapely legs. Handing her Mr. Pigglesworth, I nudge her onto her side, then raise her shirt enough to expose her rear and the base of her tail. Tensing up, she clutches Mr. Pigglesworth nervously, looking at me over the top of his head.

She relaxes a little as I scratch the base of her tail, but I keep one arm around her shoulders in case she gets skittish. The tip of her tail twitches gently against my leg as I scratch her rump harder, right at the base of the tail, and she makes a little squeak of pleasure. I pat her on the head, then pull her tight against me, putting one leg over hers as if she was a waifu bodypillow, and pull the blanket over us. I suppose she is my waifu, now.

Blowing out the candle, I keep my left arm above her shoulders so she can use it as a pillow, and put my right arm around her. She tenses up again as I slide my hand up her shirt and gently cup one of her breasts, then begins trembling.

"Goodnight," I say, closing my eyes and maintaining that position. After a bit, she decides that's really all I'm going to do and stops trembling.

"Goodnight, master," she whispers back.

That night, I sleep better than I've ever slept before.

Chapter 4: Punishment

For more Hiraeth, post "Liska is a good girl".

---

The next morning, I awaken pleasantly refreshed. It's still dark in the room. I feel a soft bundle of warmth pressed against me, and Liska's firm breast still in my hand. Mmm. Her head is resting on my arm. I carefully rotate my wrist, so as not to disturb her, and look at the time. It's still early. I give her boob a gentle squeeze and go back to sleep.

I wake up again, and there's enough light coming in through the wooden shutters to dimly see the room. Looking at my watch again, I see it's well past sunrise. Crap. I extract my hand from inside Liska's shirt and sit up, rubbing grit out of the corners of my eyes. Liska immediately jerks awake and sits up beside me, Mr. Pigglesworth hugged to her chest.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, master."

She's uncertain if she should get out of the bed or not. I flop back down, whacking my head against the headboard painfully, and reposition my pillow. I pat the bed next to me and Liska correctly interprets that to mean she should lay down beside me again. Her bed head is adorable. I pull her closer with one arm, so she's right against me.

"We overslept. They aren't serving breakfast downstairs anymore."

"Oh," she says, disappointed. She quickly continues with, "It's allright, master. Liska can go without breakfast. I've done it many times."

I suspected as much, from the way she eats. Hell, that's probably a part of why she's so short and slender: malnutrition.

"We don't need to go that far. I told you; I own you, so I'm responsible for you. And I always take care of whatever is mine."

I sit up and lean over her to reach into a compartment of my backpack, pulling out two Quest protein bars. One is cookies and cream flavor, the other is birthday cake flavor. I got them for snacks for my nephew and I while hiking. I hand her the birthday cake one. She stares at it, mystified. I chuckle and show her how to tear it open and she mimics my actions. She sniffs it and her ears flick rapidly several times.

"What is it?"

"Breakfast. Eat up."

She takes a bite and chews slowly. I've never seen her eat anything slowly before, she always gobbles it down like she may never get to eat again. I watch her reaction as her face explodes with delight.

"This is so good! I've never had anything like this before!"

"Well, enjoy it. It's the only one there is."

That's true. As soon as she eats it, the only one in the universe will be gone. Ditto for my cookies and cream bar. I take a bite and savor the taste.

Glancing back at Liska, I notice she's stopped chewing and is now crying.

"Hey, what's wrong? I thought you liked it?"

"Uh-huh," she says, sniffling and smearing tears and snot around with the back of her hand while firmly clutching the Quest bar in the other.

"What's the matter?"

She looks at me with her beautiful blue eyes, tries to say something, then breaks down crying again. I hug her tightly and make a calm shushing noise. After a bit, she gets herself under control and sits up to look at me again.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

I'm honestly confused for a minute. I've basically been sexually harassing her the entire time I've owned her and spent the entire night copping a feel.

"What do you mean?"

"Y-y-you let me sleep in your nice bed, you feed me such good food, as much as I want, you bathed me, you're buying me clothes and shoes, you didn't even get mad at me when I was disobedient yesterday!"

Oh. Am I really that unusual? I mean, by modern standards I'm a complete bastard. I bought an underage girl as a slave and fully intend to have my way with her. But I guess by this world's standards, I'm a pretty nice guy. She expects me to just push her down on the bed and take her whenever I want, make her sleep on the floor, starve her, and beat her when I'm displeased. The fact that I'm actually nice to her, even though she's property, is confusing her.

I stroke her cheek gently and smile in what I hope is a reassuring manner but probably just comes off as creepy.

"Just because you're my slave doesn't mean you're not a person. I told you, I own you now, and when you own something, you're responsible for it. Besides," I say, chucking her chin. "You're pretty cute. And you're a good girl."

She hugs me again, the first time she's really made physical contact with me voluntarily, and hoarsely whispers, "I'm so lucky to have such a kind master," into my chest. I stroke her hair for a bit, hugging her with my other arm, then reach up and start scratching her ear. Her leg begins twitching and she starts giggling uncontrollably. I laugh too. It's a pretty cute moment. After a bit, I nudge her to get off of me and say, "Now finish your breakfast."

"Yes, master."

With both the assurance of receiving enough food in the future and the notice that it was the only time she would ever eat such a thing, she ate her birthday cake protein bar slowly, savoring the taste the entire time. I ate mine much more quickly, then just lay in bed, content to have my foxgirl snuggled up to me while she nibbled on her breakfast. Once she finished, I took the wrapper from her and stuck our trash in a plastic zipper bag I'd brought as a trash bag for the camping trip. I'll find some way to dispose of trash later.

"Ok, your shoes won't be ready until tomorrow. I'm going to go check on your clothes."

"Do you want me to come along, master?" she asks perkily, standing at attention.

"No, I won't be long. You just stay here."

"Ok," she says, proudly demonstrating her use of a new word. I smile at her and lock the door behind me.

I walk down to the seamstress' shop, get a little confused, then spot it and walk in. The woman is there, showing a bolt of cloth to a woman in a fancy dress. The customer looks me up and down, arching one eyebrow judgementally. I smirk at her and bow slightly, saying "Gunter Glieben Glauten Globen." I'm sure nobody here has heard of Def Leppard before.

She sniffs, somehow managing to look down her nose at me despite being a full head shorter than me (actually, everyone I've met so far is shorter than me.), and comments to the seamstress, "Ah. A foreigner. That would explain the outlandish dress."

The seamstress looks pained as I grin broadly, and says, "How do you do today, my lord. Did you come to check on your order?"

"Why yes, I did, thank you."

The customer has enough decency to look embarassed when she realizes I can (apparently, through some magical bullshit) speak Hratchan just fine and excuses herself, suddenly taking a studied interest in a dress on the opposite side of the shop from me.

"The blouse won't be ready until this afternoon, but I've finished the dress. Would you like to see?"

"Yes, please."

She goes in the back for a moment, then returns with a dark blue pinafore dress.

"Your slave requested an apron to go with it for cleaning duties. That's nearly finished. What do you think?"

"I like the color," I say, thinking it will compliment Liska nicely. I like the feel of the fabric too; I think it's linen.

"It buttons in the back, like so," the seamstress shows me. I notice something odd.

"Is there supposed to be a hole for her tail?"

"Er- no, my lord, she specifically requested a normal dress. I asked if she wanted me to accomodate her tail while I took her measurements, but she said she'd rather hide it. That's also why she requested this length for the dress."

Why would Liska want to hide her tail? Then again, she does seem to spend a lot of time with it tucked between her legs. And she lengthened her slave tunic to make her tail less visible, and a hat that covered her ears... is she ashamed to be a foxgirl? Do her fox parts embarass her?

I'll have to fix that. I find her fox ears and tail cute.

"Perhaps you could alter the dress slightly, put more buttons here so she has the option of sticking her tail out?"

"I could do that, yes. It shouldn't add too much time to alter the dress."

"Thank you. And I've just realized I never purchased any socks for her; she can't wear proper shoes without socks."

"Indeed not; what sort of shoes did you have made for her?"

I describe them, since the term 'mary janes' doesn't seem to translate, and she suggests a pair of stockings to compliment the shoes and dress.

"I'll find a pair that will compliment her blouse and apron."

"That would be fine, thank you."

I still haven't asked how much this is going to cost me. Oh well, if I did it now, I'd look stupid. I'm sure I can afford it. I've got plenty of gold, and more on the way when Giros gets more money to buy the other half of my aluminum coin.

I stop on my way out of the shop to examine some thick green canvas; hmmm. It's similar material to my pup tent. I wonder if I could order a tent made too? Not that I really need one, I'm just curious.

I'm close enough to hear the customer lady ask, "His slave has a tail?" as she goes back over to the seamstress.

"Yes, a vixen. She's just the sweetest little thing."

"Hmph. Leave it to a foreigner to have a dog for a slave."

Ok, I may think of Liska as being something like a pet, but that's crossing the line, lady. I look her directly in the eye and smile again, "She has better manners than some I could mention." The snotty lady realizes she was talking loud enough for me to hear and looks embarassed again, but doesn't apologize. The seamstress is giving me a look that says, 'I'm sorry she's such a bitch, but please don't make a scene'. I wave pleasantly to the seamstress and step outside, irritated.

Maybe there's a reason Liska wants to hide her fox features after all, if that bitch is any indication.

Whatever. Blowing it off, I walk back to the inn, wave hello to the innkeeper as he polishes his mugs and talks to a man at the counter, unlock the door and step into my room.

Liska is laying belly down on the rug, feet in the air above her, tail lazily moving from side to side as she holds my earbuds in with an expression of rapt enjoyment on her face. She notices movement from the corner of her eye and leaps to her feet, greeting me with a cheerful, "Welcome back, master!"

"What are you doing?"

She pauses, realizing I'm upset, but uncertain as to why.

"I was listening to your music."

"Did I say you could do that?"

She nods, looking as if she's suddenly become aware she's in the middle of a minefield, but not understanding how she got there.

"You said I could listen to it again today." The 'right?' is unspoken, but implied.

"Yes, I did. But you still need to ask me first. And where did you get it from?"

"From your-" she suddenly realizes where she screwed up. Her tail sags and her ears flatten to the sides; her face crumples into an expression of pure misery. "I-I'm sorry."

"I told you to stay out of my backpack, didn't I."

She doesn't answer, wringing her tail in her hands awkwardly.

"DIDN'T I."

"Yes, m-master."

"Do you know what happens when you're disobedient?"

She nods, tears starting to well up in her face.

I walk over to the bed and sit on it. I've been kind to her, but I also need to be stern. She needs to follow the rules and obey me. Otherwise, there would be problems. Potentially dangerous problems. She doesn't understand the things in my backpack, and some of those could get her killed.

I'm also slightly pissed that she went through my stuff.

"Come here."

She shuffles over to me, and I can read her face like a book: 'master was super nice to me, and now I've ruined everything'.

Well, not everything, little fox. You'll see.

I have her lay across my lap, then I hike up her shirt and lift her tail to expose her bare rear. I give her a good, solid smack to the ass that makes her yelp and leaves a red mark.

"That's for listening to my music without asking first."

I spank her hard again and she squeaks in pain.

"That's for going through my things."

I smack her rear a third time and she whimpers, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

"And that's for being disobedient."

I rest my hand there as if I'm going to continue paddling her bottom, and ask, "Are you going to disobey me again?"

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I can't hear you."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, master."

"Are you going to touch my things without permission again?"

"No, master."

"Are you going to be a good girl from now on?"

"Uh-huh," she sobs.

"What?"

"Yes, master. I'll be a good girl."

"Ok," I relent, tugging her shirt back down and letting her up. She wipes at her face with her hands, still looking miserable. I stand up and hug her close to me.

"You know I don't like punishing you, right? I want Liska to be my good girl. Can you do that?"

She nods.

"Ok. Why don't you go dry your face."

"Th-thank you!"

"Thank me? For what?"

"For not beating me."

My heart threatens to break, but I stay strong. She goes into the bathroom to dry her face with a washcloth, and I hear an odd honking sound as she blows her nose. I make a mental note not to use that washcloth.

She comes back, face all red and puffy from crying twice in a row.

"C'mere."

She approaches hastily, and at a gesture she drops to her knees in front of me.

"Hand me my Zune."

She looks puzzled for a moment.

"My music."

She picks it up quickly and hands it to me, obviously still afraid of incurring my wrath. I shut it off and set it on the table.

"This is in time out for the rest of the day."

"Time out?"

"You can't touch it."

"Oh. I understand."

She doesn't ask if she'll be allowed to listen to it later. Probably she assumes permission is permanently revoked. It's not. She'll learn the rules. She's a smart foxgirl.

I lay on the bed, tossing ideas around in my head, trying to think of what I should do next with my life. Obviously I can't stay in this inn forever; I need a home. I have no idea if the money I've got is enough to buy a house in this place, or where the best location for a house would be. It doesn't need to be a big one, since there's just the two of us. And it's ok if the bed is on the smaller side, like the one I'm laying on. There's plenty of room for Liska in my bed. Speaking of which...

She's been kneeling on the floor ever since. I guess she has nothing to do.

"Why don't you wash your old tunic?"

"Yes, master!"

She immediately leaps to obey, clearly eager to demonstrate what a good girl she is in the wake of her punishment.

Liska spends quite a while scrubbing away at her old tunic and hat in the wash basin, and doesn't hang them up to dry until shortly before I declare it time for lunch.

I can see by her expression as I clip her leash on that she half expected me to leave her in the room while I ate. They really did deprive her, didn't they.

I ask the innkeeper for some hot water to bathe with, and fresh water for the basin, and order lunch for two. Hooking Liska's leash to the table as she kneels beside me, I wait for lunch to be brought out. It consists of some beef brisket, more black bread, and what is either some variation of sauerkraut or coleslaw. Either way, I'm not a fan, so after sampling it I spoon the rest onto Liska's plate and she gratefully wolfs it down.

Lunch finished, we head back upstairs and I remove Liska's leash and toss it on the table.

"Do slave owners always lead their slaves around on a leash in public?"

She cocks one ear to the side in a thoughtful manner, tilting her head as she thinks for a moment.

"Usually a slave wears a leash either because there's a danger of their running away, or to make it clear who their owner is. If a slave can't wander very far from her master, and it's clear who her owner is, there's less likelihood of a problem occurring. Otherwise, a slave can get into trouble if someone tries to claim she's his, or accuses her of stealing or being a runaway. Male slaves usually don't wear a leash when accompanying their master, but that's because you usually bring a male slave along to carry heavy things or to work, and a leash would get in the way. A female slave accompanies her master either to do light work, such as fetching things, or to act as decoration. Owners like to show off how prestigious they are by showing off a prized slave in public, and the leash makes it clear whose slave she is. A high value slave is clean and wears clothes almost as nice as her master's, or nothing at all if it's her body he wants to show off. A low value slave is dirty and wears cheap clothes. The nicer the slave looks, the higher her status. If her arms are restrained, it might be to keep her out of trouble, but it's usually to show off."

"Show off?"

"He didn't bring his slave to do any sort of work, because she can't work if her hands are tied behind her back. He brought her just to show off how pretty she is."

"I see."

"You also restrain a slave who might try to run away or steal, but you can usually tell those on sight because their masters don't take very good care of them."

"Hmm." So Liska being clean, well fed, and wearing nice clothes is a sign that she's a high value slave, and also a way of showing off her owner's prosperity. By making Liska look better, I make myself look better.

"Slaves like to show off too," she adds matter-of-factly.

"How so?"

"Wearing her master's leash tells other slaves who her master is; if she has a good master, or is owned by a prestigious person, she's showing off to all the other slaves that she's important and valuable, because she's owned by someone who's important. And if her hands are bound, it means she's important enough to not be working at the moment, she's just there to make her master look good."

That... makes an odd amount of sense. Wealthy, powerful men show off to other wealthy, powerful by obtaining attractive trophy wives, and the trophy wives show off to the other wives how wealthy and powerful their husbands are. So it works similarly with slaves, huh?

"The leash also helps establish a pecking order."

"Pecking order?"

"If a household has multiple slaves, especially a small household, it's important that one slave is the number one slave. Sometimes it's the slave owner's favorite slave, but that can lead to problems, especially with a harem."

Harems are a thing here?

"If someone owns multiple sex slaves, the others can get jealous of the favorite if she's in charge. But selecting a slave specifically because she can run the household and lead the other slaves leads to less confrontation and more harmony."

"I see." So you have to worry about such things.

"But not playing favorites can be a problem too. If one slave isn't above the others in rank, then they can bicker about who has what responsibility, chores won't get done because some girls will shirk their duties without someone supervising, and they fight among themselves over who has more favor with their master. So it's better to have one slave above the others, even if it's only because she's the favorite."

"That makes sense. Well, I guess it's not a problem if you only have one slave."

Liska winces.

"What?"

"Only commoners have one slave, because that's all they can afford. Like the innkeeper; he has one slave to help him run the inn and can't afford to feed and clothe another even if he could buy one. Most successful merchants will have a slave, but they have to be very wealthy to afford more than one slave. A noble is expected to own multiple slaves to show their status; otherwise they risk losing face."

"Really?" I ask. That's stupid. It just increases demand for slavery, without the need for labor to justify those slaves.

"A noble who doesn't have enough slaves can be in a... dangerous, position. It implies he's poor, or not influential, and therefore weak. Buying me was good for you; otherwise, people might think they can take advantage of you because you're from far away. But because you were able to buy a slave, who isn't a foreigner like you, it means you have money, and potentially power and influence to go with it. You're important. So people treat you more respectfully, just in case you turn out to be dangerous to them later."

"Huh." None of this had occurred to me. Liska is clearly smart as a whip to understand all of this. Then again, she was born and raised in this culture, and was being taught to serve as a tutor for the child of a wealthy man, so I suppose it's to be expected.

I pat her on the head and thank her for explaining it all to me. She smiles and flicks her ears in return.

Just then, there's a knock on the door. I unlock it and Liska takes the bucket of hot water from the inn slave, who then retrieves another bucket from the hall to refresh the wash basin. Her mission complete, she bows and sees herself out. She's definitely not one for small talk, is she?

Liska stands attentively nearby with a fresh towel, asking, "Is master going to bathe now?"

"Later I will," I reply, not feeling I particularly need it since I haven't been getting sweaty or dirty and I enjoy the benefits of deodorant and aftershave. "I figured it would be a shame to get your new clothes dirty when you try them on, so we're going to make sure you're all nice and clean."

"Oh. Thank you," she says with a carefully neutral tone.

She follows me into the bathroom and sits on the little stool when I gesture to it.

"Arms up; let's skin the rabbit!"

She raises her arms over her head and I pull my t-shirt off of her.

She takes a more active role in helping me wash, shampoo, and comb her hair and tail this time, but remains utterly passive as I clean the rest of her. Very thoroughly. Every nook and cranny. Especially her breasts. Twice. I missed a spot, I swear.

Once she's clean and dry, I have her sit on my lap again so I can brush her hair again.

"If your clothes fit, I'd like you to wear them when we go to pick up your shoes tomorrow."

"Thank you, master. I'd like that."

There. Her hair looks beautiful now. Well, it looked beautiful before too, with its glossy red contrasting with the orange of her ears and tail, with their black tips, but it looks even better now. I glance at my watch; it's mid-afternoon. The seamstress said it would only be a couple more hours before she finished, so now should be a good time to head over and see if Liska's outfit is ready.

Hmm. But there's no dressing room there, so Liska can't try her clothes on at the shop. She'd end up just carrying them back to the inn to try them on. And I need to make sure her lesson about obedience sinks in as thoroughly as possible, without being too harsh. Hmm...

I pick up Liska's restraints off the table and gesture for her to turn her back to me. She complies and I get her arms secured by her delicate wrists, then clip her leash on. She's trembling and beginning to turn red.

Oh. She thinks I'm about to parade her around in public naked. No no no. Even if I were the sort to do that, Liska is for my eyes and mine alone.

I attach the end of her leash on the hook by the door and her tail and shoulders visibly sag in relief.

"I'm going to leave you here until I'm sure I can trust you to be a good girl by yourself."

"Yes master," she says quietly, reminded of her earlier faux pas. She settles down into a kneeling position and resigns herself to wait for my return, clearly not too terribly unhappy since it means she won't be going out in the nude.

I head out to the seamstress, and pick up the clothes in what appears to be a pillowcase to protect them from dirt and dust as I walk back to the inn. That's the closest thing I've seen to a grocery bag in this world so far. The price ended up being three silver pieces; honestly, not as expensive as I thought bespoke clothing would be.

"You said you're picking up some shoes for her tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind terribly bringing her by in her complete outfit when you do? I'd like to see how it came out, and I can make any necessary adjustments then."

"Not at all."

The seamstress patted my hand as she passed the bundle of clothes to me with a smile.

"You're a good owner. Not everyone takes as good care of their slaves as you do."

Not sure how to respond to that, I nod politely and make my way to the door.

The journey back to the inn is uneventful. My foxgirl is standing attentively when I get the door open.

"Welcome back, master."

She smiles shyly, cheeks tinged red, as I appreciatively look her up and down, enjoying the sight of her beautiful, slender body. I unhook her leash and lead her over to the bed, struggle with her restraints for a moment, and then toss them along with her leash onto the table. I then open the linen... pouch? Envelope? Pillow case? that the clothes are neatly folded inside of, and pull them out.

Liska grins with obvious pleasure as she picks up the white blouse and puts it on. It has a sort of half-belt in the back that she cinches up, then she raises the pinafore dress over her head and pulls it down, settling it in place and fastening the three buttons in the back. Next, she adds the white half apron that hangs from her waist to just above the hem of the dress and steps back to give me a good view, twirling around in a circle.

"What do you think?"

"I like it," I say enthusiastically. I asked for a cute outfit, and the seamstress definitely delivered. The dress is cut so the top of it ends just below her bust line, and the white blouse and dress are nice and tight from the waist up, accentuating her figure quite nicely.

"But you're forgetting something," I say. She tilts her head to one side, puzzled. I turn her around and unbutton the back of her dress, and pull out her tail that she had tucked between her legs. Then I rebutton the dress, this time with her tail poking out.

"O-oh," she says. She'd specifically requested a dress that didn't accomodate her tail.

I take her poofy tail in hand and stroke it once or twice, saying, "I think your tail is cute. And if you kept it tucked inside your dress, it'd mean I couldn't do this," as I begin scritching the base of her tail. She almost levitates to a tiptoe position, then settles back down, clearly enjoying the tail scratching.

"Well, if master likes it..."

"I do."

I pat her on the head, then reach into the bag once more for the remaining contents.

Ooh. I thought when the seamstress said stockings, she meant something like tube socks, but these are full on thigh highs! There's no elastic in this world, so in order to keep them from sagging down, a garter belt is included.

"I've never worn such a thing," Liska says, apparently in awe.

"Here, I'll help you put them on."

She sits in my lap and I lift her dress up, suddenly reminded she still doesn't have any underwear. Well, that's perfectly fine with me. I puzzle out how to put the lacy garter belt on and button it in place, then I slowly slide one stocking over her dainty foot and up the length of her leg and button it in place. I said 'help' her put them on, but I'm really doing it myself. And Liska definitely understood that as soon as I said it, because she's just letting me put them on her. The other stocking goes on and is buttoned in place.

"Ok, let's see how it looks."

She leaps up enthusiastically and poses, then twirls around for me, tail and long hair flying out in an arc, laughing.

"This is the nicest outfit I've ever worn! Thank you so much, master!"

"Like I said, I take care of what I own."

I put my arms out wide and she bounces into my embrace as I crush her in a bear hug. She really does like the outfit. I think it's super cute too. Not quite a maid outfit, but- hmmm. Are maid outfits a thing here?

I bend my head down and gently kiss her on the forehead. Liska blushes, then squeezes back with a hug of her own.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I release her and sit on the edge of the bed to admire her in her new outfit, while she dances around the room in it, tail swishing back and forth in violent enthusiasm.

"Careful, you don't want to tear your stockings up," I say. They really aren't meant to be walked in without shoes. Liska jerks to a halt in her enthusiastic bouncing, tail poofing into a bottle brush, as she reacts in apparent horror at the thought of putting a hole in her brand new stockings.

"I could also get them dirty kneeling at the table to eat," she says thoughtfully. Reluctantly, she hikes up her dress to start removing them, then pauses.

"W-would master like to help me remove them?"

Clever girl. I pat my lap and she bounces into it with such speed that I expected to get the wind knocked out of me, but since she's so light I hardly felt the impact. She holds her hands up out of the way, allowing me to do things myself. Lifting up her dress, I unbutton her stockings and slowly slide them down her legs one at a time, carefully setting them aside so they don't get wrinkled, then unbutton the garter belt and remove it.

Hmmm. I might as well take advantage of this, since I have a bottomless girl in my lap that I can basically do anything I please to.

Instead of letting Liska up, I rest one hand on her bare thigh, leaving her dress pulled up, and stroke her hair with the other. She looks up and over her shoulder at me nervously, but offers no resistance. I slowly slide my hand up her thigh to her crotch.

Like a thermometer rising with the temperature, her face gets redder and redder the closer my hand gets, until finally it's resting directly in the center. Then I gently begin rubbing my fingers along either side of her smooth, hairless slit. She shudders, then raises one hand to her mouth and bites the back of her index finger.

I continue gently massaging her groin, the first time I've touched it outside of bathing her, and begin scratching her ears with my other hand. She moves her free hand to rest on the forearm of my hand fondling her privates, but still offers no resistance.

"You're very pretty, you know that?" I whisper. "I went to buy a tutor to teach me about this place, but as soon as I saw you, I wanted nothing but Liska."

She shudders, breathing rapidly now. I scratch harder at the base of one ear and her leg begins spasming. My other hand moves to find roughly where her clitoris should be, and I start massaging there more vigorously.

Oops. That got a reaction. She suddenly lifts up off my lap, then settles back down, looking startled. I stop scratching her ear and gently feel her breasts through the linen fabric of her new blouse.

Hnnnng. I want to just throw her down on the bed and do her, right here and now. But no. I don't want to scare her. I want Liska to like me as much as I like her. So one step at a time.

I ease off with the heavy petting, slowing my movements until my hand is just resting on her crotch, which now feels very hot and slightly damp. My other hand goes to her chin and I tilt her head back, gently kissing her forehead again.

"You know, I think it's almost time for dinner."

"O-oh," she says, slightly out of breath. The look in her eyes says 'we could go on', but I can practically hear her belly gurgle.

Besides, if she really was starting to get into it, you should always leave them wanting more. She'll be more receptive next time.

A pat on the rump signals her to get off my lap, and she tugs her new dress down and smooths it out before lifting her chin to accept her leash.

Leading her downstairs, she gets an appreciative look from the innkeeper.

"Well, look at you! That's a cute outfit!"

She blushes slightly and hides behind me shyly, eliciting a chuckle from the innkeeper. Hooking her leash to the table, I sit down with her kneeling beside me and wait for dinner. It's potato soup and black bread. This time Liska seems satisfied with the amount she got; I noticed her bowl was the same size as mine this time. I guess the innkeeper noticed I kept giving her more food. Actually, that raises the question of why her portions were always smaller than mine; is it because she's small herself, so she got the medieval equivalent of the kiddie menu, or is it because she's a slave?

Dinner finished, we head back upstairs, and I light the candle while Liska closes the wooden shutters. The candle's getting quite low; I should probably ask the innkeeper for a replacement soon. Well, I have other light sources. The batteries for my various flashlights will eventually go dead and I have no way to replace them, but I can keep recharging my phone almost indefinitely, so I can use the light built into it. Speaking of which...

I pull out my phone, turn it on, and check it. Nope. Still no signal, GPS or otherwise. As expected. I shut it off.

Liska is still admiring her new dress, rubbing her hands up and down the fabric.

"Can I really wear this tomorrow when we go to get the shoes you bought?"

"Of course. I bought you that outfit so you could wear it, after all."

"Thank you again, master."

I start to unlace my boots and she rushes over, drops to her knees, and helps me get them off.

"Better hang your dress up so it doesn't get wrinkled," I say as I start pulling my pants off.

She pads over to the wardrobe in her bare feet, opens it, and works her way out of her dress and blouse, carefully hanging them inside. She hesitates with her hand on her old tunic; even after washing it, it looks ugly and stained. I had her wear a t-shirt until her dress was ready, but that's been put away.

"Master? Should I..."

"You don't need that," I say, enjoying the view. She blushes with a shy grin, then closes the wardrobe and comes over to stand on the rug, nude. And then waits awkwardly.

Ah. She expects me to have her sleep with me in the bed again, but it's not her place to suggest it, so she has to wait and see if I'll invite her in, or make her sleep on the floor.

I pat the mattress and she climbs in with me. I pull her up close to me and pull the blanket up to our waists.

"What's wrong?" I ask, seeing the look on her face.

"I-it's the first time I've ever, um, slept naked w-with... a man."

"Ah. Well, it won't be the last," I respond.

Gently brushing her hair back from her face, I tilt her chin up and kiss her on the lips for the first time. She doesn't seem to know how to react, at first, but after a few seconds she puckers up her lips and kisses me back. Hmm. We'll have to work on that. Later.

I softly caress her beautiful little breasts, one at a time, then kiss them each. She inhales sharply as I take one pink, erect nipple into my mouth and suck on it, then gently nibble it.

"You have perfect breasts," I tell her, coming up for air and kissing her again. "You're so pretty."

"Thank you, master."

"I'm glad I bought you. Now you're all mine."

"... I'm glad you bought me too. I'm so lucky to have you for my master."

I blow out the candle and spoon her up against me, her fluffy tail between my legs and my hand gently cupping one breast. She rests her head on my arm, and I rest mine on my small camping pillow, and gradually we fall asleep like that.

Chapter 5: First Time

Liska is indeed a good girl.

---

I wake up with a warm bundle of foxgirl in my arms and stretch luxuriously. Liska stirs sleepily beside me, but doesn't quite wake up. I nuzzle my face against the back of her head, enjoying the smell of her hair, but apparently my breathing tickles her ears because they're twitching violently now. I can tell the moment she wakes up, because her breathing changes.

"Good morning," I say quietly.

"Good morning, master," she whispers back. She doesn't move. Probably because her legs are pinned down by mine and I've got my arms around her. I untangle my legs from hers, then slide one hand down the length of her smooth, flat belly, to her thigh, then back up her rump to the base of her tail, and I begin scratching.

She presses her rear back into me, encouraging the scratching. When I take my other hand to scratch her ears, she ducks her head forward to give me a better angle. Aaaah, you really do like this, don't you?

Who's a good little foxgirl? Who's my pretty foxy foxy fox?

If I ever said that out loud, she'd either be humiliated at being treated like a pet, or think I was crazy.

Who's a good foxgirl? You are!

I intensify my scratching until her left leg starts bouncing, then I scratch even harder. She makes a little mewling sound of pure joy and presses her butt harder into my crotch. I keep it up for a bit longer, then finally stop and hug her tight against me.

"You like that?"

"Y-yes!"

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes. It feels very good."

I kiss the side of her face, then slide my hand that had been scratching her tail around to the other side, feeling between her legs. She spreads her legs slightly to grant my hand access to her smooth, wonderful slit.

"Does this feel good?"

"U-um... yes, but it's a different kind of good."

"How so?" I ask, gently caressing her soft lips between her legs.

"Getting scratched just feels good. T-touching me there makes me feel... funny."

"Funny how?"

It's too dark to really make out her face, but I get the sense she's struggling for words.

"Funny good?" I ask, rubbing more in the general vicinity of her clit. She shudders and snuggles up tighter against me.

"Mm-hhm."

I intensify my rubbing and she starts breathing faster.

Who's a sexy foxgirl?

"Would you like me to keep going?"

"Y-yes, please..."

"I like your cute little fox ears," I say, nibbling at one. It twitches hard a couple of times, then she consciously makes it stay still for me.

"I like your pretty face," I say, kissing her on the forehead. She's breathing faster and angling her hips to give me better access.

"I like your perfect little breasts," I say, gently kneading one in my hand. I'm prepared to go further down the list, and her anatomy, but Liska interrupts me.

"M-master..."

"Mmm?"

"Liska is your property. You own me. By law, I own nothing, not... not even my body."

Interesting, but not unexpected, given the apparent attitude toward slavery here.

"Liska's body is your body, not Liska's."

"Oh ho."

"So... do as you please to Liska."

Hnnnng! I'm dying. This is it, Lord; this is the big one. I'm coming to see ya, Elizabeth!

Liska is a slave, and I'm her owner. She can't tell me what to do, and there's limits to what she can ask of her master. She wants this, therefore it's selfish of her to ask for it, therefore she's found an indirect way of informing me that she's ok with moving on to the next step.

Message received, little Liska.

I let go of her, and she seems momentarily confused when I reach over to dig in my pants pocket; I pull out my Zippo and light the candle.

I want to see her for this.

Throwing aside the blanket so I can drink in every detail, I scoot her to the center of the bed, then take off my shirt. Then I move to slide off my boxers. This will be the first time she's seen me naked, and the first time there's been nothing between her bare skin and mine.

I toss my boxers to the floor, freeing my erection, and in the dim candlelight I can see the slightly scared expression on her face. 'THAT thing is going inside me?!'

C'mon. I'm not THAT huge. Am I? I've only had sex with a couple of girls back in college, but none of them seemed to think I was huge. Above average maybe, but not that big. Then again, none of them had any complaints either.

I grasp her ankles and fold her legs up, knees near her shoulders, her tail pointed straight down toward the foot of the bed. She still looks a little scared, but also like she still wants this.

I lay down on top of her, supporting my weight on my elbows, and kiss her on the lips. She awkwardly kisses back. I wrap my arms around her, and after a moment's hesitation, she wraps her arms around my back, hugging me to her bare chest. I reach down with one hand to grasp my erect penis, then slide the head up and down her warm slit until I find just the right spot.

"Are you ready?" I ask. It's hard to see her expression since her face is partly below my shoulders, but she nods. Here we go, little Liska: you're a virgin no more!

I push forward, slowly but steadily, and encounter resistance. I push harder and Liska emits a low whine in the back of her throat, then gasps as the resistance suddenly vanishes and I plunge into her.

Oh, fuck! She's so tight! I've never been in a girl this tight! Then again, none of the ones I slept with were virgins by that point, but still! Liska shudders beneath me and the whine returns; I put both arms around her again and make a shushing noise.

"Shhh, it's ok! It's ok now."

There's tears in her eyes, but she nods. Such a brave little fox!

"I'm going to start moving now, ok?"

"Mm-hm!"

I start a slow, steady, back-and-forth motion, going deeper into her with every thrust, until I've bottomed out. Oh man. She can actually accomodate all of me. I was worried she wouldn't be able to.

My left hand moves up to the back of her head, and she presses her face into my shoulder, squeaking with every thrust. Ouch! Her nails are digging into my back.

I'm trying to be gentle, since it's her first time, but I just want her, NEED her, so badly I can't help myself. It's been so long since I've had real, human contact. Before I know it, I'm pounding away at her, rocking the bed rhythmically while she gasps over and over so fast, I'm worried she might hyperventilate.

"Whose Liska are you?" I whisper into her ear, squeezing her tight against me.

"I'm yours!" she says back, breathlessly.

"You're mine!" I growl fiercely, intensifying my thrusts and picking up speed. Oh man, I'm not gonna last long. It's been too long since I've gotten any, and she's just so impossibly cute...

"I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours I'm- Hng-uuuuaaah!"

Her back arches beneath me, pressing her perfect little breasts harder into my chest, and she suddenly clamps down on my dick like I'm never getting out again. Did she just orgasm?

I can't help it. I bury myself to the hilt within her and immediately blow my load. Over and over and over, it just seems to come in an endless stream, pouring out into Liska's womb. Oh shit. Oh shit. Ooooooh, shit.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, I sag down on top of Liska, but she bears my weight without complaint, both of us struggling for breath. As soon as I can breathe again, I pull out with a squelching noise and flop onto the bed beside her. She's still panting for breath, staring up at the ceiling. I sit up to look at her admiringly. She's mine. She's all mine...

... and I've made a mess of my little foxgirl. Her crotch is thoroughly glazed in sticky, white stuff, with a few spots of pink here and there, all of it slowly oozing down her slit, and her tail is thoroughly coated for the first half.

"Stay there, I'll get you cleaned up."

I stumble to the bathroom to retrieve a couple rags, wetting one in the wash basin, and back to bed, where she lays impassively, watching me. I've gotten her mostly cleaned up, so I toss the rags to the floor and lay down beside her, drawing her into my arms and hugging her tight.

"Was that good?" I ask, kissing her neck.

"It... Th-that would have been scary if master had done that when he first bought Liska, or if it were someone else, but... I know master would never hurt Liska," she says, smiling.

Her references to herself in the third person confuse me, since she doesn't do it consistently. She seems to mostly do it when she's referring to herself as my property; is it some kind of disassociation, or are slaves supposed to do that?

Something suddenly occurs to me. How, uh, how accurate was the slave trader's sales pitch? I mean, he was right about her being a virgin, but...

"So is it true that, uh, you can't get pregnant?"

"I could if I was with a foxman, but not with a human."

So a male fox-person is a foxman, but she gets confused when I call her a foxgirl instead of a vixen? Terminology is weird.

"Is that true for catgirls too?"

"Yes. Catmen can only impregnate catgirls, and foxmen can only impregnate vixens."

So catgirl is a thing, but not foxgirl? Seriously, what?

"Although," she continues, "I have heard that if a wolfman and a vixen mate, they rarely have offspring, but it can happen. Their children never have children of their own though, regardless of which kind they mate with."

Is that like a horse and donkey producing a mule, which is always sterile and always female?

"Do these crossbreeds between wolf and fox happen to usually be one gender?"

"Every one I've heard of has been a girl, but it's so rare that nobody knows of one alive today. Wolfkin and foxkin don't usually get along, so intermarriage is rare."

"What about cat... kin?" I ask, unsure of the terminology.

"They keep to themselves too. I've never heard of them having a child with another race."

"What other races can have children with each other?" I ask, curious. This is all new to me, after all. And it confirms I don't have to worry about suddenly needing to care for a baby. Though a pregnant Liska would be unspeakably cute.

"Mmm... I've heard humans and elves can have children, but it's also very rare and they never have children of their own either. Halflings and dwarves can have children, and those children can have children, but they don't typically intermarry because their cultures are very different and geographically separated."

So elves and dwarves are a thing here? I was beginning to wonder, since I originally thought that's what the various fantasy races would be when I was selecting options for this world, but I haven't seen any. The only non-humans I've seen are Liska and that catgirl. And maybe another catgirl before that, now that I think of it.

"Different types of harpies can breed with each other and their children can have children. Harpies can also have children with humans, but they're always harpies, not a half-breed. I think that's because so few harpies are male though."

Ok, what?

"And the less said about the Targroaches, the better," she says with obvious revulsion.

"The what now?"

She grimaces with a 'please don't ask' look on her face, so I change the subject back to what I was originally concerned with.

"Basically, I can't get you pregnant. Is that right?"

She nods.

"Yes. You don't need to worry about that, master."

I begin gently caressing her thigh.

"What would you say if I wanted to go again?"

In way of answer, she smiles shyly and spreads her legs, drawing her knees to her chest again. I grin and position myself over her.

Then I pause and glance at my watch.

"If we don't head downstairs now, we'll miss breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she says, putting her arms around me.

I end up having to clean up my foxgirl twice more before I'm finally sated.

Chapter 6: Tested

Wherein Liska continues being a good girl.

---

Having thoroughly washed Liska's tail and... nearby regions, cuddled her in my arms for a short nap, gotten dressed, and headed downstairs for lunch, we return to our room in the inn.

Holding up her stockings, Liska says, "The seamstress wanted to see me in my complete outfit, yes?"

"That's what she said, yes."

"But I can't wear my stockings with my sandals, so what should I do?"

"Just put on the garter belt now, and carry your stockings with you. You can put them on when we pick up your shoes, then go see the seamstress from there."

"Ah, an excellent idea, master!"

Yes, and one I'm sure you had as well, little fox. Trying to butter me up? Well, stroke my ego with compliments all you like, Liska. I'm game.

Putting her stockings in the linen pouch they came in and donning her garter belt, Liska cheerfully raises her chin while I clip her leash on. Then she pauses, ears drooping slightly.

"I can't carry my stockings if I'm wearing my restraints..."

"... you want me to restrain you?"

She nods.

"It's important for master's image. And Liska's."

I shrug, gesturing for her to turn around while I pick up the cloth restraints. She dutifully turns and tucks her arms behind her back so I can bind them in place.

"How, exactly?"

"Master is seen owning a slave in public, a slave he doesn't need to serve him, just accompany him to show how affluent he is. If master were seen with Liska unleashed and unbound, people would either assume Liska did not belong to master, or that master was a servant employed by Liska's master. Because master is a foreigner. It's very important master look well off; otherwise, people may assume master is... weak. You're far from home; depending on how far, your family may not be able to assist you or avenge you if you fall afoul of anyone. But if you appear to be wealthy, people may assume you have connections locally and will be hesitant to cause trouble for you, even if you're obviously a foreigner."

Wow. She's really thought this out. She sort of explained it before, but this is more of the kind of information I need. She makes it sound like this place is actually pretty dangerous. I'm really glad I bought Liska, and not just because I can bed her whenever I want. Although honestly I'd be really glad I bought her even if that was all she brought to the table.

"And Liska's image is important too. If Liska is accompanying master in nice clothes, properly leashed and restrained, people will know she's an important slave. A dirty, hungry slave isn't valued by their master, a slave with no restraints is there to work for their master in some capacity, and a slave with no leash is vulnerable to... predation."

"Predation?"

"Snatchers. Sometimes a pretty slave will be abducted and raped. Or sold to someone who doesn't know or doesn't care that they were stolen. A low value slave may not be looked for by their master if they go missing or run away, but a high value slave will always be pursued."

I see. So she's safer even if her hands are tied behind her back and she's collared and leashed. Maybe that's why the topless catgirl seemed so cautious when I asked her for directions.

"And," she adds with a flutter of her ears, "A slave who is clearly there just to look pretty will always elevate her master's image."

"And you're very pretty," I retort, patting her head and earning another grin from my little foxgirl. "Then shall we?"

She bounces on her toes once to confirm, slips into her sandals, and follows me out the door to the cobbler. Naturally, I'm the one carrying her stockings.

Halfway there, I hear a high-pitched yelp that doesn't even sound human at first; turning around, I see Liska looking more surprised than hurt, and her tail floofed out like a bottle brush.

"What's wrong?"

Flattening her ears, she replies, "It's nothing, master. Someone just pulled my tail."

Looking around, I don't see the culprit, so I resume the journey with Liska in tow.

She lets loose another yelp, this time clearly in pain, and I turn to see some kid running off with a grin on his face. Liska is biting her lip and twitching her tail. I stop to see if she's ok.

"I'm ok. It hurts, but that's all. My tail is... sensitive."

Maybe this is why she wanted to hide her tail?

"Do you want to tuck your tail inside your dress?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Liska wanted to hide that I was a vixen before, because many people don't like beastkin. But if master is accompanied by a vixen, he will look better."

"How?"

"Foxkin are rare in this region, and vixens are highly sought after as slaves," she replies.

"Really?"

She nods.

"Yes. A human owner can't get his vixen slave pregnant. So we're desirable housemaids and sex slaves. If an owner can't have sex slaves, he can have a vixen for a housemaid and not embarass his wife by getting the maid pregnant."

"I see. Well for now, why don't you walk in front of me the rest of the way? Just to be safe."

"Um... If it looks like Liska is leading master..."

"Just humor me."

It sounds like an order, so she takes it as one and obeys. We don't get too far down the road when the little brat comes running by again and yanks on the end of Liska's tail, eliciting another yelp.

"HEY!" I bellow at him in genuine anger and the kid screeches to a halt, turning to look at me in wide-eyed fear. Like the little dipshit didn't think he'd get in trouble for fucking with somebody's slave.

A woman who looks like the very image of a homely peasant woman appears out of the crowd and slaps the kid upside the back of the head, hard enough I can tell it really hurt.

"Oy! Leave the poor girl alone, y'little shit! Now apologize to her owner afore I belt ya in the gob!"

The kid, who now looks completely out of his element, bows to me, not Liska, and says, "I'm sorry!" and then runs off, looking over his shoulder to see if I'm following. The woman, apparently unrelated to the kid, also bows slightly.

"Beggin' your pardon, m'lord. Tisn't my place to intervene in your affairs."

"Not at all."

"By your leave," she says, not really waiting to see if I give her my 'leave' or not before vanishing into the crowd.

"It's safe for master to walk in front now," Liska says quietly. "No one will bother me."

"Are you sure?"

She nods.

"Master was being tested."

"Tested?"

"Someone wanted to see how master would react, so they sent that boy to provoke you. It is ok now."

"Wait- who wanted to provoke me? How do you know that?"

She shrugs, replying, "I don't know who, and I know because that's quite common whenever a stranger comes to town. We shouldn't wait here; it would be best for master to continue his business."

I walk on, careful not to tug on Liska's leash and keep a pace her shorter legs can keep up with, confused and paranoid. I'm being tested? By who? Why?

Dammit, this is why I needed to buy a slave to educate me about this world. I have no idea what sinister machinations are going on in the background, but apparently my position is even more precarious than I thought.

Arriving at the cobbler, I lead Liska inside and the cobbler presents me, not her, with her shoes.

Wow. They really are mary janes. And the glossy black leather is almost as shiny as patent leather. Actually, is patent leather a thing here? I know it requires rubber or plastic, but they should have discovered rubber or something like it by now, right?

"They're wonderful!" Liska says, bouncing up and down. She turns her back toward me and asks, "Please, master?"

I undo her restraints and she picks up her shoes, admiring them in detail.

"May I put them on?"

"Nope. I bought you shoes just so you could look at them, not wear them."

She puffs her cheeks in mock consternation, then... waits. Oh. Do I seriously have to give her permission?

"Try them on."

She perches herself on one of the displays holding up a variety of boots, removes her stockings from the linen bag, and puts them on, one at a time, buttoning them to her garter belt and completely unaware of the fact that she just revealed to the cobbler that she isn't wearing underwear. I glance over at him and I can practically hear Moving In Stereo playing in his mind. I catch his eye and glare at him; she's my Liska, and looking is not for the likes of you! He ignores my death glare and grins instead.

"I love them!"

Liska dances around in her new shoes, tail swishing, finally wearing the full ensemble.

"How do they fit?"

"Perfectly!"

I pay the cobbler and he gives me the look of a dirty old man, saying, "Thank you for your business, my lord. Any time you need shoes for yourself... or your slave, come by any time."

I'm not giving you another free peep show, creep. Back off, she's mine.

I put Liska's restraints back on and, sticking out her chest proudly, she follows me out the door, still admiring her new shoes.

We head down to the seamstress and as soon as Liska walks in the door, the woman comes over and makes 'd'aawww!' noises about how cute she looks. Well, she IS pretty darn cute, and that outfit just accentuates it. The seamstress is moving around Liska, asking how it fits, checking seams, and examining the hole for her tail to poke through and asking if the fabric is rubbing uncomfortably there. All of Liska's answers are positive and happy; she's clearly in love with her outfit.

Sticking her chest out proudly and wiggling her shoulders as if to emphasize the fact that her arms are bound behind her back, making her useless as anything but self-propelled eye candy, Liska declares, "Master bought the nicest clothes Liska has ever worn, even before Liska was a slave."

I pat her on the head affectionately, then startle her by unclipping her leash from her collar.

"I'm going to look around the store a bit. You have fun."

The seamstress immediately starts asking Liska if she has any other ideas for clothes, then as soon as she thinks I'm out of earshot, she mock whispers conspiratorily, "So, has he...?"

"Mm-hm," Liska nods dreamily, confirming whatever the seamstress was asking. "This morning, in fact."

"Really? He waited that long? He really is a gentleman!"

"He made sure Liska felt safe first. Master's a good master."

Wait- are they talking about...

The seamstress asks her something else I can't make out, and Liska replies, "I'm a little sore, but it's ok."

"Ok?"

"It means good or acceptable."

"Ah. You're starting to talk like him."

"It's important Liska understands her master."

"You really do like him, don't you."

Liska blushes shyly, glances over at me, and then seems to realize I'm listening and blushes even harder. The seamstress chuckles, apparently not catching on that I'm still in earshot, and pats Liska on the shoulder.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure the dress fit you right. Why don't you go back to your owner; I'm sure he'll eventually want a second outfit for you. He doesn't seem the sort to keep you wearing the same thing every day."

Liska trots over to me, face reddening again as she lifts her chin and presents her collar for me to clip her leash onto. Then I casually examine some very thin, almost translucent, white fabric and say, "This would make a nice dress, don't you think?"

Liska's face lights up at the thought I might buy her another dress and she nods enthusiastically. I wave the seamstress over and pull the bolt of cloth out.

"I'd like to commission a dress from this material."

"Very well," she says, maintaining an admirable pokerface. "What sort of style would you like?"

I walk over to where she has various patterns laid out and drawn on glossy, semi-translucent paper, and flip until I get to one that looks like a sundress.

"Something like this. Modified to accomodate her tail, of course."

"Of course. I still have her measurements; anything else you want to change?"

"No, I think that'll do."

"Allright, it's a simple design, so I can have it done by tomorrow evening, say, an hour before sunset."

"That will be fine," I say. "I'd also like to get two more pairs of stockings for her so she doesn't wear these ones out."

"Certainly. I'll get started right away then. Good day, my lord." She curtsies to me, then nods to Liska with a smirk. Liska grins back and sticks her chest out, very deliberately pressing one boob against my arm as if to show possessiveness.

Wait- who owns who here? Is she bragging, like 'I got a good one'?

I give a gentle tug on Liska's leash and we head back to the inn.

Returning to our room, I remove Liska's leash and toss it on the table alongside the bag with her sandals, while she carefully steps out of her new shoes and leaves them neatly beside the door. I sit on the edge of the bed and work my shoes off, while Liska stands nearby instead of helping like she often does. Oh, right. I left her arms bound. Well, she's ok like that for a little bit.

I pat my lap and she immediately perches herself there, tilting her head to let me scratch her ears better the moment my hand goes toward them. My other hand slowly scratches the base of her tail, slightly harder with her dress on, and I think out loud for a moment, intending to use her as a sounding board.

"We can't stay in the inn forever. I only arranged to stay here for a week, and it's been four days. I need to come up with permanent living arrangements."

"Would master prefer a house in the city, or in the country?" she asks, wiggling her butt to encourage more tail scratching.

"I'm not sure which would be better," I answer honestly. Transportation is an issue. I don't have a car anymore, or a source for fuel even if my car had come with me, so I'm walking everywhere on foot. I've ridden a horse before, once, but I know nothing about caring for them, and I doubt Liska does either. So I can't live too terribly far from places I need to be. I voice my concern about transportation and Liska frowns thoughtfully.

"A house outside the city would be better, you would appear less threatening to anyone uncomfortable with your suddenly showing up and being someone obviously important. It would be better if you bought another slave though."

"Another slave?" I ask. She was sold into slavery, abused, and sold to a complete stranger, she's known me for less than a week, and she's suggesting I should buy another slave?

"Mm-hm," she responds, leaning her head into my ear scratching and smiling blissfully. "If master lives outside the city, he's less threatening. If master owns more than one slave, he's obviously wealthy enough to pose a threat if provoked. Therefore, it's better to leave master alone."

"And who, exactly, is it that feels so threatened by my mere existence?" I ask.

She mewls in pleasure for a moment as my fingertips scratching her tail find just the right spot, then answers, "Local nobles, landlords, wealthy businessmen. You're an unknown element. They don't know who you are, why you're here, or what you plan to do. You could be a foreign spy, or a wealthy merchant looking to break into their market. Until they can pin down exactly where you fit into things, they'll feel insecure. Master needs to strike a balance: not a threat to their positions, but strong enough they don't want to make master feel threatened either."

Wow. She's really thought this out; such a clever fox!

"I see. And how, exactly, do I do that?"

"The easiest way would be to buy a house in the country, away from their bases of power, and to buy another slave."

She sure seems intent on my buying another slave.

"What if Liska was the only slave I wanted?" I ask.

"I..." She looks me in the eye for a moment, unsure how to proceed, then blushes slightly. "I would be happy to have master all to myself, but master needs to think about master, not Liska. Master should buy another slave, and soon, to convince others he's wealthy enough to be a threat if provoked."

"What would I even do with another slave?" I ask.

Liska shrugs, then wriggles her butt in my lap to help me find just the right spot to scratch her tail again.

"If you own a house, there will be chores to do. I can cook, but not to the standards master requires; I was a peasant before I was a slave, after all, and our food is simple fare. I don't have the strength or endurance to chop wood for the fire, I don't know how to care for a horse, which you'll need to get around. I can clean, but if you buy a house big enough to make master seem important and dangerous to provoke, I don't know if I'll be able to clean it all by myself. Liska is not a cook, a housemaid, or farrier. Liska is a tutor, who didn't finish her training. Liska has... deficiences. Master will eventually need another slave."

"I see."

She may think she has deficiences, but I think she's just fine as she is. She's already taught me a lot about this place, and I wouldn't even be aware that anyone was potentially plotting against me because they thought I was a danger somehow. Then there's the other benefits of owning her.

"So master will be best served by a domestic slave of some sort, to make up for Liska's deficiencies as a household slave. Of course, if the idea is to show that master has wealth and could therefore be powerful and influential, the best option would be to buy a sex slave."

"... what?"

She nods, apparently not seeing anything wrong with her statement.

"Sex slaves are the prettiest and most expensive slaves there are; if master has one accompany him in public, everyone will know master has sufficient wealth to stand up for himself if provoked. The downside would be that sex slaves aren't taught to be useful; they're just trained to look pretty and make their master happy. It would be best for master to buy a domestic slave first, then buy a sex slave later, if he can afford it."

Now she's talking about me buying a third slave?!

"Do you really want me to buy a sex slave?"

Her ears flatten out and she looks away, expressionless. Ah. She really does want me to herself, but a slave can't make those sorts of demands of her master. And she's clearly put thought into this, given how she's talking about building me up into the image of some wealthy, powerful man who can flaunt his riches by parading slaves around in public. She's thinking long-term, and she's putting my needs above hers. Which makes sense, and not simply because 'I am a slave and must serve my master's needs and wishes'; it's survival. Her fate is tied to my own; if something were to happen to me, the best case scenario for her would be that she gets sold to someone else. And given how most slave owners are apparently a pack of bastards who mistreat their property, I'm clearly the best option, even if she isn't personally fond of me. From a pragmatic viewpoint, even if she hated my guts, she'd want to keep me around as her owner because I don't mistreat her. Well, relatively. I do still own her and do what I want with her, I'm just a lot nicer about it.

"I think you're pretty enough for me to show off in public with. After all, if you weren't able to read, you'd have been sold as a sex slave, right?"

She ducks her head, apparently mildly embarassed, then nods.

I stop scratching her foxy bits, and gently squeeze her breasts through her blouse.

"You can do laundry, right? How hard would it be to clean this dress?"

"I can do it in the basin, just like my tunic, but master would need to buy some scouring powder to get clothes really clean."

"Hmm. 'cause I think I might get your dress dirty."

I lift her off of my lap (geez, she really is light!) and lay her on the bed. She blinks several times, then asks, "Master wants to use Liska... while she is dressed?"

"Mm-hm. That outfit is just so cute, I want to enjoy Liska in it."

"I think I can clean it just fine," she says, cheeks tinging red and her ears cocking to the sides. Not embarassed, but... aroused?

I grab her by her stockinged ankles and raise her knees up to her shoulders again, lifting and spreading her dress in the process. Other than the fact that she's not wearing any underwear, she's fully clothed. I start undressing, then pause.

"Are you ok if I leave your arms bound?" I ask. She did say having sex for the first time was a little scary, and now she's bound and helpless, so if she's uncomfortable...

"I'm not scared; master won't hurt Liska," she says with a little smile, twitching the tip of her tail.

Good enough for me. I tuck her tail underneath her this time though, so as not to get it messy. Settling on top of her, I enjoy the sensation of her warm little body wrapped in clean linen, rub my erection up and down her bare slit to find the right spot, then ease myself into her. She inhales sharply, still not used to it since she was still a virgin until this morning, but makes no complaints. Once I'm in all the way, I start moving, wrapping my right arm around little Liska's back, below where her hands are bound, and my other hand goes around her shoulders to the back of her head. She begins breathing intensely as I move in and out of her, slowly this time.

Slow and steady. This morning I went a bit faster than I intended, because it'd been so long since I'd gotten to have sex, and Liska is just so unbearably cute I wanted to devour her. This time, I'm doing what I should have done for her first time. Slow, steady, and gentle.

After a couple minutes of thrusting, Liska tentatively places one stockinged foot just above my butt, raising her face to look at mine and see if I was ok with her repositioning her legs. This morning, she didn't move at all, all three times I had sex with her. I guess now she's wondering if it's ok for her to do so, instead of passively letting me use her.

Yes little fox, it's perfectly fine for you to be an active participant. I kiss her forehead, and she evidently takes that as permission, moving her legs so they're criss-crossed over my lower back. I'm curious why she's doing it; is it just to get more comfortable, or is she hugging me with her legs since she can't hug me with her arms?

Well, whatever. I continue my steady in-out movement and her breathing gets faster and more high-pitched.

"Whose Liska are you?" I whisper.

"I'm yours!" she gasps back.

"Do you like doing this with your master?" I ask.

She nods vigorously, squeezing her eyes shut as I begin to pick up speed. Her heels are bouncing off the small of my back now, but I don't care. Dammit, she's just so unbelievably perfect! I just want to make love to her forever, and never stop!

I said I was going to go slow and gentle, but now I'm pounding her hard and she's gasping for breath. Ah geez, I'm not gonna last much longer!

I manage to last longer than Liska though, as she buries her face in my shoulder to muffle her voice as she cries out, her vaginal muscles rippling down the length of my cock as her little body is wracked by an even more intense orgasm than this morning. I can't hold out any more and drive myself as deep into her as I can go before blowing my load so intensely that it makes me lightheaded.

Panting for breath, I crush my tiny foxgirl beneath me in a bear hug as her legs sag down on either side of me, limp. Once I catch my breath, I release her and pull out. I guess four times in one day means you run low on ammo, because there's not much of a mess this time. I retrieve a rag from the bathroom and wipe her crotch clean with it, then help her sit up so I can remove her restraints.

Arms freed, Liska flops onto the bed beside me, still breathless, and I lay down next to her. She rolls onto her side and hugs me, and I reach up and stroke the back of her head.

"That was great," I say. She smiles weakly and replies, "I'm happy Liska makes master happy."

After finally catching our breaths, Liska helps me clean up any evidence of what we'd been doing, then I get dressed so we can head downstairs to dinner. Liska doesn't want to damage her stockings by kneeling on the floor in them, so she removes them and her garter belt and follows me downstairs, properly leashed, in her bare feet.

The grinning innkeeper clearly knows what we were up to, but I just ignore him and order dinner for the both of us. After eating, we head upstairs, Liska hangs her dress in the wardrobe and climbs into bed with me, nude. I'm wearing a t-shirt and boxers; I don't intend to go for five today.

Maybe later though.

Definitely later.

Chapter 7: New Home

The next morning, I put on a change of clothes and decide that today is the day I need a bath. Liska puts on her dress and, leash attached, follows me down the stairs in her bare feet and kneels beside me for breakfast. It seems to be something similar to French toast, but it tastes like nutmeg. It's not bad, just different. I order some hot water sent up to my room and Liska trots back up the stairs behind me and helps me get ready for my bath.

Five days without a shower has taken its toll, regardless of whether or not I'm exerting myself. And I really need to shave.

The hot water and towel arrive, and Liska struggles with the bucket into the bathroom, then disrobes. She tilts her head in an adorably confused look as I have her sit on the toilet bench instead of the little stool though. She looks enlightened as soon as I undress and sit on the stool. Without any prompting, she immediately begins washing my back, scrubbing me clean all over. She looks adorably embarassed when she washes my crotch, then has a look of concentration as she washes, shampoos, and rinses my hair. I don't have any shaving cream, since I didn't plan on shaving during a camping trip, so I just use my bar of pine tar soap and the travel razor in my toiletries kit. Clean and toweled off, I dress myself and apply deodorant and aftershave.

Liska's ears twitch as she sniffs the air, then leans in closer to me.

"Master smells good!"

"I'm glad you like it," I say. I haven't used aftershave since I got here, since once it runs out, it's gone forever. God only knows what cologne is like in this place. Probably obscenely expensive. Hmmm. I bet Liska would benefit from some perfume...

No! Focus. I can't have my mind revolving around Liska day in and day out. I have to think about the future. I have money for the moment, and can probably live quite comfortably for some time if I manage to sell off all of my aluminum, but how long would that money actually last? I'm still going to need a job or some other means of supporting myself. And Liska. And any additional slaves she seems to think I should acquire. Owning Liska is like adopting a child, or I suppose more like marrying a housewife: I'm responsible for feeding, clothing, and sheltering her, but she isn't earning any income to help pay for herself.

Actually, could she get a job? I'm just assuming slaves work solely for their master, but that may not be the case. In 1800's America, many slaves were allowed to run their own businesses in their spare time, like selling produce grown in their garden or artwork, and their owners often helped out, such as providing transportation. The slaves kept their income for themselves, and their owners encouraged them to earn their own money since it meant their slaves were happier (and thus, more productive) if they could buy their own luxury goods, and made owning the slave less expensive since they could pay for their own clothes and such. Some slaves even earned enough to buy their freedom. Could such a thing happen here?

"Liska, could a slave earn money with a job?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say I allowed you to work outside of my home, and you got a job at the bakery making bread. Would such a thing be possible?"

She shrugs noncommitally.

"I suppose. Slaves sometimes work for someone other than their master, but it's usually as a favor between their master and the freeman the slave is working for. If they earn any money, it all goes to their master."

"Really? They don't get to keep it?"

"Of course not. A slave owns nothing, not even her body," she says, the 'don't you remember we had this conversation' implied by her tone.

"Liska owns nothing," she says, lifting her dress by way of example. "These clothes aren't Liska's; these clothes belong to master, who allows Liska to wear them. If Liska earns a tarl by baking bread, that is master's tarl, not Liska's."

I guess that makes buying your freedom impossible, or at least substantially more difficult.

"I see."

Well, theoretically that still means Liska could bring home some income to support the household, but it doesn't sound likely.

"Well anyway, I suppose we should look into buying a house. How, uh, how do we do that?"

Liska looks at me intently for a moment, then nods as if I've confirmed something she suspected.

"First, we need to talk to local landlords."

Oh.

"I didn't really want a landlord..."

She looks at me oddly for a moment, then makes an 'oh' expression of understanding.

"Master wouldn't be living on a landlord's land, he would become a landlord by purchasing a house and the surrounding property from a landlord."

"Oh," I say, feeling like an idiot.

"Depending on how far it is from the city, we'll need to rent a horse and carriage to go to and from the house to view the property. Once we've decided on a house, pay for it, and receive the deed to it, we'll need to purchase a horse and carriage so we can go to and from town for groceries, and we'll need to buy all the things a household needs."

"Such as?"

She rests one finger on her chin thoughtfully, then starts listing things off: "A bed, table, chair, dishes, scissors, scouring powder, blankets, sheets, pillows, a rug, a brush and shoe polish, whatever is needed to care for the horse, tools to maintain the house and property..." She looks at me and frowns apologetically. "It's a lot, master."

"Sounds expensive," I say. Holy crap. No wonder men historically didn't get married until they were financially established: it took a lot of money just to start out!

"I'm sure master can afford it," Liska responds confidently. Maybe I can, maybe I can't. I still have most of my one hundred talos in gold, and have mainly been living off my loose change of silver coins left over from purchasing Liska. And that's only because the innkeeper gave me back the silver dollar I paid for a week's stay, and let me keep the change he originally gave me when I paid; I've basically just been giving him his own money back, paying for meals for Liska and myself, while staying at the inn for free. I have no idea how expensive buying a house in the country will be, but I can't imagine it'll be cheap, especially if we buy one that matches Liska's apparently inflated idea of how important and wealthy I am.

Although I do have another hundred talos coming in two or three more days. And presumably I can get the same two hundred talos per aluminum coin for the other nineteen of them. Depending on just how far a talos can take me, I may actually be able to live quite comfortably on that kind of money. And if my idea of 'inventing' lighters and more advanced firearms plays out, I could potentially live the rest of my life as the wealthy playboy philanthropist Liska apparently believes me to be.

"So where do we find a landlord then?"

"Right next to the slave trader's, of course. Most of the big merchants and moneychangers are on the same street."

Oh. How convenient. Come to think of it, Giro's place isn't too far from the slave trader either.

"Once we decide on a house and come back to sign the paperwork, we can purchase another slave right away since they're so close by."

"I think we should hold off on buying another slave," I say hurriedly. Liska gives me a look like I'm being unreasonable.

"Master, Liska cannot manage a proper house all by herself. I am not a very good cook, nor do I know how to care for a horse, or many other things. Another slave is simply a necessity."

"Well, maybe I can do most of the work myself," I reply. Liska looks thoroughly scandalized.

"Master cannot do that! I... I know master doesn't know how to care for a horse either. And if master lived alone with Liska and someone saw him cleaning his own house, chopping his own firewood, or, or, anything! They would decide master was just a well-off commoner."

"So what's wrong with that?"

She gives me a look like I'm the slow kid in class, then seems to realize she may be toeing the line of acceptable behavior and quickly composes her face as neutrally as possible.

"Master is still a foreigner. Why would a commoner with money appear in another country, buy a slave, buy a house away from prying eyes, and live there? Everyone would naturally assume you're a spy."

"Are foreigners really that uncommon? Or that untrustworthy?"

She nods. Oh. Really.

"I see. Well, let's go look at some houses then."

Liska bounces on her toes cheerfully, then assembles her garter belt and stockings. I put on her restraints and leash, and she slips into her shoes before we leave the inn.

"Uh, do you know how to get there?" I ask.

She nods and replies, "As a tutor, I have to be able to teach my charges how to navigate the world of business that nobles must learn to engage in. So I know where to find places such as the slave trader, the landlord's association, moneychangers, and the major guilds." She ducks her head, looking embarassed, and says, "I don't know the layout for most of the city though, just specific buildings in the high-class district."

"Ok. Lead the way."

She gives me an uncomfortable look and responds, "It really isn't appropriate for a slave to lead her master. I can guide you though."

That said, she steps right up against me, presses her chest into my arm, and begins steering me down the street with her boobs, smiling cheerfully all the while.

Well, I can definitely think of worse ways to get directions, that's for sure.

It really is right next to the walled compound the slave trader owns. And the representative for the landlord's association reassures us that we won't need to find a horse and buggy for rent, as their realtor will guide us in her own.

The woman who'll be showing us houses brings the cart around to the front and waits for us to get in. In spite of the steps on the back of the cart, Liska can't exactly climb in with her arms tied behind her back, so I scoop her up into my arms (surprising myself again with just how light she is, and apparently shocking her enough she yelps in surprise) and set her into the back of the cart. I climb in after her and sit on the bench behind the driver, who clicks her tongue to signal the horse forward.

Liska leans over, stretching upward to reach the level of my ear, and whispers, "please don't pick me up in public, master. It will make you appear odd or overly indulgent. I can get in and out of the cart on my own."

"Only in public?" I ask teasingly. She turns her ears to the sides and smiles, whispering back, "Master may do anything he pleases to Liska. In private." Looking thoughtful, she twitches one ear and then concedes, "Master may also do anything he likes to Liska in public. But nothing that will make master look odd or socially unaccaptable. That would not be good for master's reputation."

She really does seem intent on selling my image, doesn't she.

After passing through the city gates for the first time since I arrived in this world, we come to a house just barely in view of the city walls. I step down out of the cart, then turn to help Liska down, but she confidently hops down all on her own. If I'd jumped from that height, the impact would definitely be uncomfortable, but little Liska handled it like it was nothing.

The realtor shows us a largish cottage; not as big as your typical American home, but not terribly small either. It only has three rooms, a combination living room/kitchen, a bedroom, and a storage room. The bathroom is an outhouse in the back.

Liska sniffs dismissively, commenting that the cottage is unworthy of her master's importance, while I'm still looking around. The realtor ushers us back out to the cart and to the next house, further from the city.

Liska insists I get in the cart before her this time, then hops up onto the step, then another hop in the wagon, tail flagging behind her. She grins at me toothily, and I realize she's showing off.

Such a nimble fox! I pat her on the head as the cart takes off for the next house.

Liska comments approvingly on the well in front of this house, as well as its larger size, but still claims it's too small for someone of my stature. We look inside anyway, and Liska immediately adopts an expression of disgust.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Mice. This house is infested with them."

It does smell kind of musty, but how does she know-

I look at Liska as she begins bobbing her head oddly, up and down, side to side, ears twitching back and forth like radar dishes, and her tail lashing side to side. What is she doing?

From a standing position, she suddenly hops in the air higher than I could leap if I had a running start, dropping down on the other side of the room with a barely audible TAP of her shoes on the hardwood floor. She then steps back, looking very proud of herself.

The realtor lady looks faint, and it suddenly becomes clear that Liska just pounced on, and killed, a mouse that had been running across the room.

"This house really is just unacceptable if it has mice; my master requires a much nicer place, don't you think?" she says archly to the realtor. The lady nods with a vaguely ill expression on her face and heads for the door. I look closer at the dead mouse.

I expected it to be squashed flat, but it's not. It looks like it just dropped dead.

"What did you-?"

"Liska didn't want to ruin the nice shoes master bought, so I just snapped its neck with my toe," she says. She sticks her chest out proudly and continues, "Liska was very good at killing mice that got into the family home."

She's that agile, AND she can control her landing enough to snap a mouses neck with the toe of her shoe?

I'm starting to think Liska isn't undersized or uncommonly light; maybe foxkin are naturally smaller and lighter so they can do that sort of thing. I guess it's a tradeoff for not having much physical strength; even for a small girl, she doesn't seem very strong. She's struggled with the bucket of bath water every time, and she's flat out stated she can't chop firewood.

We follow the realtor outside and Liska follows me into the wagon with another hop, though this time she flails her tail for balance as she nearly falls backward out of the wagon. I guess that's what she gets for showing off.

The third house is much nicer, and Liska quietly comments to me that it's worth considering, but we should see what else is available.

The fourth house is a two story house, with a bigger footprint than the previous three combined. It's almost as big as the inn, minus the third floor. Liska comments approvingly at the glass windows, and despite the house being dusty from lack of use, she seems to like the interior.

"I didn't see a well though," she says.

The realtor shows her to the kitchen, saying, "the well is beneath the house. You can use this pump here to get water."

Liska quietly asks me to remove her restraints, which I do. She then works the pump handle, straining and putting her weight into it as she presses down, barely squirting a little water into the sink, which apparently drains outside. I easily work the handle with one hand and water comes gushing forth. Liska's ears and tail droop as if she suddenly feels inadequate.

The bathroom has another pump, which the realtor points out can be used to fill the bath tub, the wash basin, or the tank on the flush toilet.

"This house has a flush toilet?" I ask, impressed. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. The oldest flush toilet yet discovered dates back to the stone age in England, the Romans had running water, at least in major cities, and Europe around the 1600's had certainly figured things out, to varying degrees depending on region.

"Oh yes, this is a very modern house."

She leads us upstairs and shows off the multiple fireplaces; this place has multiple bedrooms, including a windowless one about the size of a closet that she says is intended for a favored slave to sleep in, smiling at Liska. Liska nods expressionlessly.

"Now let's look at the outbuildings."

This place just keeps getting better and better. There's a small barn for keeping several horses and a wagon, and a small guest house near the barn. There's also a small shed she says would be suitable for housing any field hands I buy if I want to try my hand at farming or gardening.

The whole property is surrounded by trees, and she says there's a stream running behind the house that's fed by the same spring the well draws from. In all, the property encompasses twenty hectares. A hectare is just shy of 2.5 acres, so times twenty... not quite fifty acres of land? That's... actually not too shabby. Liska seems to approve as well.

"I like it," I say, glancing at Liska for her opinion. If the realtor has noticed that Liska is the one steering the house buying, she hasn't commented. Liska nods in approval, saying, "It could certainly use a thorough cleaning, but this place really is quite nice."

"How much?" I ask, certain it's going to expensive.

"Five talos," the realtor replies promptly, without hesitation.

Five talos? That's one of the large gold coins. I currently have nineteen of those, plus some smaller ones and a collection of silver coins. I honestly expected it to be more expensive.

Wait- if a house this large and modern, plus wooded land with a stream and outbuildings, costs five talos, and I paid 3/4 of a talos for Liska (with the slave trader originally demanding a whole talos), that means Liska is worth roughly a fifth of what this property is worth.

Buying a house like this in America would cost well upwards of $100,000, at least in a state with cheap land. In many states, especially on the east or west cost, this would probably be a million dollar home. It's not McMansion sized, but it isn't small by any means.

So I basically bought Liska for roughly the price of a car. Assuming these prices even translate into modern dollars; the amount of gold involved is well less than what you would need to buy this same property in dollars.

Glancing at Liska again and getting her official ear twitch of approval, I say, "Sold."

The realtor grins at having made the sale, and we all three get back in the wagon, Liska fashionably restrained once more, and make our way back to the landlord's association. I sign the paperwork, pay with a single large gold coin, and then end up paying with several large silver coins for the annual tax the prince of Ossetria levies. That... honestly isn't too bad, as far as taxes are concerned.

Liska tries to steer me to the slave trader with her boobs on my arm, but I insist on getting other necessities first. Liska puffs her cheeks in mild consternation, then throws herself into the task by helping me locate a place to buy a horse and large wagon from. The wagon is then filled with various necessities Liska insists we need, as well as a bale of hay for the horse. We also order furniture and arrange for it to be delivered to the house.

In all, I've spent about eight talos. That's more than I've spent the entire time I've been in this world, but it still doesn't put too significent a dent in my funds. And Giros is still going to buy the other half of my coin in a couple days, so really, I'm much better off than I thought I was.

We stop at the inn to retrieve my things, and I thank the innkeeper for the pleasant (minus the attempted theft on the first day) stay, and slide him a silver tarl as a tip. He bows to me, thanking me for my patronage, and then graces Liska with a smile before we walk out the door, presumably never to return.

I drive the wagon to our new home, and in spite of Liska's protests I end up unloading most of the contents of the wagon into the house. It would have taken much longer if she'd done it by herself, and afer struggling to lift and carry various items she admitted defeat and let me do most of the work. She still insisted I refrain from doing any such thing when anyone else was around to see.

A couple of wagons pull up to the house and a group of men, only one of them wearing a slave collar and tunic, unload the furniture and carry it into the house. I also tip one a smaller silver coin for having him unhook my horse from the wagon and set it up in the barn with its bale of hay.

Liska, who had disappeared while the men were moving furniture, pops out of the bathroom with a slightly unhappy expression, but then pulls her hair back into a ponytail and puts a scarf over her head to protect her hair somewhat from dust, and begins cleaning the dusty house.

"Master, I can't move the furniture around by myself. Would you please arrange it to your liking? Liska will clean."

I nod my assent, and she immediately dives in, dusting the walls and ceilings, sweeping, and mopping, room by room. After a bit, she removes her shoes and stockings and goes back to cleaning in her bare feet. I guess she didn't want to get them dirty.

I get the furniture arranged, starting with the master bedroom. The wardrobe is fine where the delivery guys left it, but the bed... I shift it over, then set a little nightstand on either side of the bed, and set an oil lamp taken from a wooden crate on each one. I didn't pick out most of what we bought and just let Liska go on a shopping spree, with the caution she should only buy essentials. She has far more experience with the day to day needs of a middle ages household than I do, after all. And it's amazing how many things you don't realize you need until you're starting from scratch.

Downstairs, I move the oddly low dining table to where I want it, set the chair at its head... and notice there's only one chair for the table. There's a writing desk with matching chair in the den/study room, along with an empty bookshelf, but why only one chair for the dining table?

Oh. Because Liska kneels beside me to eat. Which is also why the table is so low. We still should have bought more chairs. Even if Liska refuses to sit on the furniture because it's not allowed for slaves, I still might have guests over for dinner. You know, all those guests I can invite over because I know so many people here. Yeah, ok, maybe one chair is enough for now.

I head back upstairs and sit on the edge of the bed. None of the other furniture needed moved, and Liska insists that doing anything more is beneath me, so I'm basically not allowed to clean the house with her. I don't know why I'm letting her basically tell me what I can and can't do; I'm sure if I just did what I wanted or gave her orders she'd comply, but I'm just going along with whatever she tells me so I can be her idea of a proper, respectable master.

Does... does she have me wrapped around her little finger? After less than a week?

Clever little fox.

After another few minutes, Liska comes padding into the bedroom, clearly exhausted, and flops onto the thick rug on the floor.

"Tired?" I ask.

She nods. I pat the bed next to me and she gets up and perches on the mattress beside me, and I put one arm around her shoulders and hug her to me.

"You've done quite a bit today. You should rest up," I say, scratching her ears. She leans into me, eyes closed, and sighs.

"There's just too much work for me, master."

This again. I suspected it was a convenient excuse to try to sell me on the idea of getting another slave, but while that still may be true, this really is an overwhelming amount of work for one little foxgirl to do by herself.

"Well... we have to go into town tomorrow to pick up your new dress and stockings, since we sort of forgot to do it today. I'm not making any promises, but while we're there, we might as well see about buying another slave."

She sighs again, but this time it sounds relieved. Either because she finally won me over, or because it means she'll have someone to help her with the chores. She went from having almost nothing to do at the inn to having a huge house to deal with all by herself.

"You should take the rest of the day off," I say, scooting her to the center of the bed and brushing back her hair.

"I can't, master; I still have to make dinner since- oh."

Her face crumples and she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm sorry, master!"

"What's wrong?"

"... I forgot to buy food," she says in a small voice.

Oh.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "You've had a lot to do today, it's ok if you forgot one thing."

"But-"

"Shh. It's ok. I have food in my backpack, so we won't miss out on dinner. You've done enough for today and should relax."

Not that I intend to let my cute little foxgirl actually rest, that is. Before I make dinner, I want to wear her out a little more.

I grab her ankles and lift her legs up, smiling in what I hope is a seductive manner rather than a creepy one, and... am taken completely by surprise.

She's wearing underwear now. Bloomers. Huh. I guess she bought them while we were shopping?

"I-I'm sorry, master, but I started this morning and I didn't want to ruin the nice clothes you bought, and..."

Started? Started what?

Oh. Oooooh. Shit.

"You, uh, started your... er..."

She nods, looking slightly embarassed.

"It's my womanly flow."

That's probably what she was doing in the bathroom earlier; she was putting on underwear and then packing it with rags to absorb her... flow.

"S-so, I'm afraid master won't be able to make use of Liska tonight..."

"How long does it usually last?"

"A couple of days, usually. Sometimes shorter, sometimes longer."

"How often?" I ask. I remember when my dumbass sister was a teen, it wasn't very consistent starting out, making it hard for her to schedule around and resulting in a lot of ruined panties in the laundry hamper. Which pissed me off to no end whenever it was my turn to do laundry.

"Twice a year. Sometimes three times."

Wait- really? She only gets her period every six months or so?!

"Really? Only twice a year?"

She nods, looking uncomfortable discussing it.

"Foxkin are only fertile for a brief time, and spend the rest of the year infertile. That's why there's so few of us compared to humans."

So she's unspeakably adorable, deliciously tiny, can't get pregnant, has to do whatever I say, and only has her period two or maybe three times a year. I'm seriously thinking there are no downsides to my lovely little slave.

"I'm sorry, master. I know it's disappointing."

I sit her up and hug her.

"Not at all. It's out of your control anyway. Besides," I say, brushing back her beautiful red hair, "You can still... please your master."

She looks confused.

"Here, why don't you kneel on the floor and I'll show you."

I stand up, drop my pants around my ankles, and then sit on the bed again. I coax my foxgirl into kneeling directly in front of me.

"W-what would master like me to do?"

"Would you suck it for me?"

She blinks, as if I just asked her to sprout wings and fly. Then she looks at my erect penis. Then her ears fold back and tears well up in her eyes.

Wait- what did I do? Why is she upset?

She shakes her head, hoarsely whispering, "Master wouldn't hurt Liska," and leans forward to take me into her mouth.

I'm missing something here. I definitely did something wrong, but I have no idea what.

Liska has no idea either. She's just sucking on the end of my dick like a straw.

"No no, move your head up and down, like this."

It takes a couple minutes to walk her through what she's supposed to do, because she apparently has no idea what a blowjob even is. Eventually I've got her bobbing her head up and down as I gently stroke her hair.

"Good girl," I tell her.

Such a good little fox! So eager to please her master.

But she's not going very deep at all. I gently apply pressure to the back of her head and she allows me to push her down further onto my cock. She offers no resistance, and once she's got enough of me in her mouth to satisfy me, I take my hand off her head and she resumes moving her head up and down, looking at me to confirm that she's doing it right.

"There's a good girl," I say again, encouraging her.

After a couple minutes, the warm sensation of her lips and tongue on my penis and her soft hair tickling my thighs pushes me over the edge. I grab her head with both hands to keep her from jerking away and grunt as I shoot my load into her mouth.

Liska squirms in surprise, but I've got her head held in place, so she can't go anywhere. I moan as I come again and again, then once I'm finally spent, I release her and she sits up, coughing.

I look down at her and she's trying to catch my jizz in her hands as she keeps coughing, preventing it from getting onto her dress.

"Swallow it," I say. She looks at me, still coughing, and I repeat myself. She swallows audibly, then keeps coughing.

"Here, let's get you some water," I say, leading her downstairs to the bathroom and filling a tin cup from the pump. She has jizz on her hands, so she allows me to hold the cup to her mouth and takes a drink. She finally quits coughing.

"You're supposed to swallow it, not breathe it," I joke.

"I'm sorry master, it just surprised me, and-"

"I'm teasing."

She looks at her hands, then looks around for a towel. There isn't one, we haven't unpacked them yet.

"Here," I say, taking one of her little hands by its delicate wrist and holding it toward her face. "Clean it up with your tongue. Make sure you get it all."

She's starting to look upset again, but I pat her on the head with a smile.

"That's proof you made your master happy, so you shouldn't let any go to waste."

She waffles for a bit, then carefully and fastidiously licks every little bit off her hands. I've noticed previously that she really does like to keep clean, as much as she's allowed.

"Good girl," I say, patting her affectionately again. "You did a very good job."

"Liska pleased master?"

"Yes."

She nods, still seeming subdued. I can't shake the feeling that something is off, but she quietly says, "Then I'm glad Liska can still please her master."

I find the crate the towels and washclothes are in and set one next to the wash basin.

"Why don't you clean up and I'll start dinner?"

Heading upstairs, I grab a couple of Mountain House dinners from my backpack, along with my titanium woodgas stove, then take it all downstairs to the kitchen.

I have no idea how to work the wood stove that came with the house, so I set my camp stove on top of it and assemble it, then go outside to grab a handful of sticks and twigs. Filling the stove, I light them with my Zippo, set a pot of water on top, and wait for the water to heat up.

Liska emerges from the bathroom and watches me in fascination as I heat the water, open the plastic pouches, and pour hot water into each of them, zipping them back shut. Then I set them on the table.

"We'll give that about ten minutes and it'll be ready to eat."

"But master only poured in hot water."

"That's right; this food is dried, so to cook it you only need to add hot water."

"Oh!" she says, as if she figured something out. "It's portable soup!"

"Portable soup?"

"Yes."

That... answers nothing.

"What is portable soup?"

"You make a soup with lots and lots of bones so it gels when you boil it down, then you cook it until all the water is cooked out of it and you have a thick jelly at the bottom of the pot. Then you carefully dry the jelly, cut it into strips, and put it in a pouch to take with you. You can eat it as a snack, or add hot water to it to make it into a soup again. It's excellent for long journeys, because it keeps very well."

That's... actually pretty clever.

But then Liska tilts her head in that adorable manner of hers, hair hanging to one side, and cocks her ears questioningly.

"But if master doesn't know what portable soup is... is that not portable soup?"

"Nope. You'll see what it is soon enough."

Retrieving a couple of spoons, I open my pouch and stir, then open Liska's so she doesn't scald herself with steam and stir hers.

"Let's eat!"

Kneeling beside me, she peers inside the pouch and appears utterly baffled.

"How...?"

"It's something from home. Eat up."

"Master has so many wondrous things. Master's homeland must be incredible," she says as she retrieves a spoonful of spaghetti with marinara sauce from the pouch. Her face lights up as she takes a bite.

"I've never tasted anything like this!"

Tomatoes aren't native to Europe, so I'm sure they aren't native here either.

She'd begun to slow down her eating once she decided I really was going to feed her enough, but now she's scarfing it all down like it's the last meal she'll ever get. She does an admirable job of preventing any sauce from getting on her dress, but her face is an adorable, red mess.

Reaching over, she freezes as I run one finger down the side of her face, collecting spaghetti sauce, and then hold it in front of her face. She looks at me cautiously, then leans forward and takes my finger into her mouth, sucking the sauce off. I repeat until her face is mostly clean and she sits back, licking her lips and looking inside the empty pouch to confirm that she ate it all.

I have the hugest boner right now.

I stand up and drop my pants again, right there at the kitchen table, and pat my thigh. Liska obediently walks over on her knees and, after a moment of hesitation, takes me into her mouth and begins moving her head up and down my shaft.

"Gooood girl," I sigh.

Who's a good little foxgirl.

I don't last nearly as long this time, but Liska quickly catches on to what's about to happen when I put both hands on her head and is ready for it this time. I ejaculate into her mouth and after making a face, she swallows. I pat her between her erect ears and tell her what a good girl she is again.

Helping her to her feet, I say, "Let's get you cleaned up. Your face is all messy."

Liska patiently stands by the bathroom wash basin as I wet a rag and scrub her face clean. Then I bend down and kiss her on the forehead.

"You make your master very happy, do you know that?"

She nods, giving me a little smile, and pads along behind me in her bare feet, following me as I close all the window shutters for the evening and head upstairs.

Before it gets too dark to see, Liska retrieves a bottle from a packing crate and uses it to fill both lanterns on either side of the bed, then fiddles with the wicks until they're the right length. I light them both with my Zippo and lower the glass mantles into place, then my little foxgirl trots all around the second floor, helping me close the shutters for the windows there.

Returning to the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed and dig around in my backpack while Liska removes her dress and blouse and hangs them in the wardrobe next to her stockings. At her insistence, she also hung up all of my clothes, which amounts to just two pairs of pants, three pairs of underwear, three t-shirts, a camo jacket, and three pairs of socks. Tomorrow she intends to wash them all for me, now that she has the scouring powder she wanted. I should probably buy some clothes for myself soon.

Clad in only her linen bloomers, Liska stands beside the bed as I get in, then tucks the blankets around me. That's the first time she's done that; makes sense, I suppose, since other than the night she slept on the floor, she's been in the same bed as me. Liska then pulls out another blanket from the chest of drawers I also bought, and curls up on the thick rug beside the bed and burrows under the blanket.

"Why are you sleeping there?"

Cheeks tinging pink, Liska replies, "I don't want to dirty master's bed in case of a leak..."

"Oh. Well, I don't-"

She shakes her head.

"It's simply not done. Mother always used to come sleep in my bed when it was time for her flow. Liska cannot share master's bed until it's finished."

She looks at me, then looks down shyly.

"It will be over in another day or two. Then master can make use of Liska as he pleases again."

"Ok. Well, that doesn't mean you have to sleep all by yourself," I say, digging around again.

"Eh?"

I present Mr. Pigglesworth to her and she grins, taking him from me and snuggling him to her bare chest. Uh-huh. I knew she'd like him. Girls never seem to outgrow stuffed animals.

"What's his name?"

She hugs him tightly and says, in all seriousness, "His name is Soft Pig."

Soft- really? Is she literal minded, or did she misinterpret when I said she had a soft pig, and I had a soft Liska? Ah, whatever. Mr. Pigglesworth shall be known as Soft Pig henceforth.

I put out both lamps and lay my head on a real pillow for the first time in almost a week.

"Goodnight, Liska."

"Goodnight, master."

Chapter 8: Ada

Wherein Liska acquires a little sister, and both learn the importance of being good girls.

---

The next morning, I awaken slightly disoriented as I'm in a new room from the one I've been waking up in. Oh. Yeah. I own a house now.

You know, this world isn't so bad. I have what is basically a mansion in the country instead of a cramped apartment. I don't have a job, but have plenty of money. I have a petite, teenage bedwarmer who is frankly the best thing to ever happen to me. If I had access to the internet, I could log into Hiraeth and tell everyone how great it was. I still feel homesick, I miss my family and all the conveniences of modern life, but it's really not so bad here. At least for me. I'm sure there's plenty of people here (including slaves like the one I own) who are miserable and wish they were anywhere else, but for once I came out a winner.

I don't know who Mephistopheles is, what his reason for sending me here was, or how he did it, but I can't stay angry at him.

Liska has evidently noticed I'm awake and sat up. I pat the side of the bed and she crawls over, leaning against the side of the bed, so I can rest my hand on her head and gently rub back and forth. I lay like that for several minutes, just enjoying the sensation of her hair under my hand, utterly relaxed.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"Liska needs to relieve herself and change her... absorbant cloths."

"Oh. Yeah, go ahead."

She gets up and pads out of the room and down the stairs, apparently able to see just fine in the dim light, even though I can barely make out any shapes. I yawn and check the time, the glowing hands on my watch standing out in the dark. Sunrise should be in just a few minutes. I get up, scratch my balls, and stumble over to the window and open the wooden shutters. It's still dark in the room. I make my way back to the bed, stubbing my shin on the edge of the wardrobe in the process, and flop back down and under the covers.

This is great. No bills to pay. Nobody to nag me or harp on and on about endless obligations and responsibilities. I don't have to go to work. I can just lay here until I feel like breakfast. Or maybe Liska can make breakfast. I have a couple Mountain House breakfast meals, and she saw how I made them yesterday. Just add hot water and stir.

Liska trots back into the room, having come back upstairs silently, and kneels down beside the bed again so I can pat her head. I gently scratch one ear and stretch lazily. Yeah. I'm not gonna do shit today.

"Master?"

"Mmm."

"Would you rather pick up my dress after you purchase your new slave? If we do that first, then you can order new clothes for her too."

Dammit.

"If you want to buy clothes for your new slave, that is."

"Yeah. Not a bad idea, Liska. Why don't you make breakfast?"

"Um..."

"Just do it like I did last night. Heat some water on the stove until it's almost boiling, pour it in the pouch, and pinch it shut."

"I can't read the writing, I don't know which ones I should make."

"I'll pick. You just get the water heating."

"Yes, master."

I catch her attention with a whistle as she starts to walk out the door, pull out my Zippo, and toss it to her. She'll figure out how it works.

She caught it perfectly in the dark. She really does have super fox night vision mode.

I pull out my phone and turn it on; no signal. No surprise there. I use the light on my phone to dig through my backpack and pull out two breakfast meals, then toss the phone on the bed and head downstairs.

Liska has a small fire going in the stove, and is struggling with the kitchen pump to fill a pan with water. She has it about half full. I work the pump handle a few times to finish filling it for her, nod sleepily while she thanks me, and sit at the table.

Breakfast was pretty passable. Liska enthused over it, and was amazed that she was able to make scrambled eggs with bacon and vegetables just by pouring in some hot water. Having eaten, we head upstairs to get dressed, then go to the barn to get the horse hooked up to the wagon.

That... took longer than it should have. Liska and I both puzzled over how to harness the horse, and then we had to go back and correct some of the straps. It's more complicated than you would think.

But eventually we think we've figured it out, and with Liska leashed and restrained on the seat beside me, I drive us into town.

"The best slave to get first would be a domestic slave. One who can cook and tend the house. Or if we can find one experienced with horses, that would be good too. A sex slave would be best for master's reputation, but wouldn't be all that useful around the house. So master should look for a domestic slave first."

For someone who's a slave herself, Liska sure is enthusiastic about me buying another person.

We pull up outside the slave trader's, and I wrap the horse's reins around a post put there for just that purpose. The horse gives me a bored look and resigns itself to just standing there, hooked to a wagon, until I come out.

The guard at the gate to the walled compound lets us in, and I bang the knocker on the front door. It opens and the older woman from before answers.

"Come in, my lord, come in. Who shall I say is calling?"

"Roland Schulz."

Liska looks at me, and I suddenly realize that she never knew my name this whole time. I've just been 'master' to her.

"Very well. You may leave your girl here," she says, gesturing at the hooks by the door. There's another girl in an elaborate dress, hands behind her back, already waiting for her owner there. I put Liska's leash on the hook and the other slave looks at her.

"Hello!"

Liska looks startled, so the other girl says, "It's allright, master says I can talk to other slaves."

Liska looks at me and I say, "It's fine."

Liska nods her thanks and begins chatting cheerfully with the other slave and I leave them tied and waiting for their owners, just like the horse. I'm seated in the same waiting area as before, and before long the same slave trader arrives, wearing gaudy and flamboyant clothing that somehow still manages to look somewhat appealing on him. It's a good color.

"Ah, good morning, my lord! And what can I do for you this day, hmm?"

"Well, I was considering purchasing another slave."

"Ah, splendid, splendid! How are you liking the one you bought earlier? Delightful, isn't she?"

"She's wonderful. The problem is, I've just purchased a house and it's a bit much for her. I'm afraid I'm going to need at least another slave. I don't suppose you have any with experience tending to a horse?"

"Hnng, not at the moment, I'm afraid. We are expecting a large shipment of slaves from out of the country tomorrow though, I expect you'll find what you're looking for there."

He snaps his fingers at the slave woman and says, "Gather domestic slaves. Female only, I presume?"

I nod and he waves dismissively at the woman, who scurries off. There's no drinks or snacks this time; maybe it's too early in the morning.

"So... your current slave is to your liking?"

"Oh yes, she's very useful. I can honestly say she's the best purchase I've made in quite some time."

"I'm sure," he responds with a lecherous smile.

Hey, just because I'm guilty as charged doesn't mean you can look at me like that, you dirty old man.

The woman comes back, and we follow her down the ludicrously long hallway to a different room from before. A dozen females of varying ages are standing in a row, awaiting inspection.

The first slave I interview is a blonde in her early twenties. She has a good attitude, large breasts, and say she's very good at cooking and cleaning. She's not a virgin though. Hmm. Contender.

The next two have the dull look of sleep-deprived individuals, barely aware of their surroundings. I pass.

The fourth is a woman in her forties, going grey at the temples, who looks like she should be working as a waitress in a diner, with a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Pass.

The fifth is the standout individual, since she's the only one not wearing a filthy tunic. Or anything at all, besides her collar.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen, my lord."

"What's your name?"

"Ada, my lord."

Besides her nudity, Ada's most striking feature is the scar across her left cheek. The slave dealer steps forward and showcases her, revealing to me that, like Liska before, Ada is the one he really intends to sell me.

"Ada, I'm afraid, is something of a mixed blessing. She was originally raised to be a sex slave, but I'm afraid she's considered damaged goods now."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Sadly, her handler got a little too... exuberant, in punishing her and scarred her permanently." He turns her around to show off her rear, revealing a dozen long, ugly scars across her back, shoulders, and one across her butt. Except for the big scar on her cheek, you wouldn't know if she were clothed.

"As a result, I'm afraid her value has dropped significantly, to the point where we're having to sell her as a domestic slave. She is still a virgin, however. And," he says, leaning uncomfortably close to me, "She's been given the alchemist's herbs as part of her training to be a sex slave. Her womb is quite barren, and you needn't worry about her being unavailable during her monthly flow, because it simply doesn't happen. So, much like your little vixen, no worries about pregnancy if you purchase her, even though she's human."

"I see," I reply as noncommittally as possible. He steps back and pretends to inspect the plaster for dust again, while I examine the other slaves for sale. I come back to Ada, as I'm sure the slave dealer knew I would.

"What, exactly, were you punished for?" I ask.

She looks down, not meeting my eyes, and quietly says, "One of the other girls stole a copper coin, then when she was asked about it, said I had taken it. My handler whipped me when I wouldn't confess."

"So you didn't take it?"

"No, my lord. The truth came out, but it was... too late, by then." She raises one hand to the scar on her cheek momentarily, then drops it to her side again. She doesn't seem at all ashamed of her nudity. She's easily the prettiest slave here, in spite of the scars, and her story tugs at my heart strings.

"How much is Ada?"

"Half a talos," the trader says, grinning. I hand him the appropriate coinage and the other slaves are dismissed while the woman fetches the paperwork. I sign in triplicate, stick my copy in my pocket so it can join Liska's deed of ownership in my backpack, and Ada quietly follows me down the hall to the entrance.

"A pleasure doing business with you, my lord. And as I said, do please come back tomorrow, I'm sure we'll have a slave with the qualities you seek then."

Liska and the other slave girl look at Ada curiously while she's restrained and leashed, and I take Liska's leash and lead her and my new acquisition out the door.

"Did you have fun talking?" I ask Liska.

"Yes, I did. She says she has a very good master, he's a very important merchant. He lets her wear nice clothes and eat the same food as him too. He only beats her when he has a bad day."

Yikes. That's a 'very good' master? Kind of puts my treatment of Liska into perspective.

Now that I have them side by side, I compare Liska and Ada.

Ada is the older of the two by about a year. She's also several inches taller; where the top of Liska's head is barely to my shoulder, Ada is tall enough I can rest my chin on her head without bending over. She's a slender girl, but still larger than Liska. Small breasted, but again, larger than Liska. Liska's blue eyes are very light, like the sky, whereas Ada's blue eyes are darker. Liska's red hair contrasts nicely with Ada's light brown, which only comes down to her shoulders, unlike Liska's, which comes midway down her back. And, of course, as a human she lacks Liska's cute fox ears and tail.

"Liska, this is Ada. Ada, Liska."

"Hello! You'll like our master very much, he's a good master," Liska says cheerfully. Ada, somewhat reserved, simply nods. Neither of them seem fazed by Ada's public nudity.

Liska easily hops into the wagon, but I end up having to help Ada get in. I drive us over to the seamstress and take both girls inside.

I pay for Liska's new dress and stockings, then get Ada's measurements taken.

"What sort of clothing would you like for her?" The seamstress also doesn't seem at all surprised by Ada's nudity.

"The same pattern Liska is wearing, but a slightly lighter shade of blue, please. And stockings, of course."

"Of course. I have a couple of other customers ahead of you, so come back in, say, four days, my lord."

"Thanks."

Ada seems confused.

"Are you buying clothes for me to wear, master?"

"Of course."

She blinks, as if she's not sure what to think.

"I've never worn clothes before..."

Wait, seriously?

Well, that explains why she doesn't seem uncomfortable being nude. Liska, on the other hand, grew up as a peasant girl and was only recently enslaved, so she wore clothes like a normal person and is just as shy about nudity.

Next, the cobbler. He's got an obvious boner as he measures her feet, and I order a pair of mary janes just like Liska's. Liska's sandals, sized for her dainty feet, are too small for Ada, so I buy her a pair of her own to hold her over until her shoes are made.

"Three days, my lord. Ahem, and a ten percent discount. For being such a good customer."

Back off, pervert. She's mine.

With that, we stop to pick up another bale of hay for the horse and I unbind Liska so she can select groceries, then put her restraints back on and the three of us head off in the wagon for home.

We have difficulty parking the wagon back in the barn, then further difficulty getting the horse unharnessed. It seems glad to be let loose in the corral attached to the barn. I double check that it has a trough full of water, then head inside with the girls.

I tell Ada to walk around the house and familiarize herself with the layout, then immediately lead Liska upstairs to the bedroom.

"What do you think of her?" I ask.

Liska replies, "She's very pretty, though someone obviously damaged her looks. Is she still a virgin?"

I nod, and Liska seems to approve. Then she frowns thoughtfully.

"I was kind of scared of master using Liska's body at first, but master was patient and waited until Liska felt safe. Perhaps it would be best to do the same for Ada?"

That makes sense. I shouldn't have sex with her right off the bat, even if she was originally supposed to be a sex slave and expects to be used right away.

"In the meantime," Liska adds slyly, "Liska can tend to master's needs."

I grin and immediately drop my pants. Liska looks slightly uncomfortable still, but gets down on her knees, arms still restrained, and opens her mouth. I grab her head in both hands and begin moving in and out of her, then pause.

"Is this ok? If you don't feel comfortable, I'll do it a different way."

Liska nods and flicks her ears, then simply kneels impassively as I proceed to fuck her face.

Ada appears outside the bedroom door, looking in curiously, then spots us and seems startled. I make eye contact with her and she blushes, then backs out quietly and moves down the hall. Liska doesn't seem to have noticed the intrusion, as I'm sure my pretty little redhead is more concerned with the penis thrusting in and out of her mouth at the moment.

I try to take it slow, but it's so hard; Liska eventually makes a noise of discomfort and I make my thrusts shallower until I eventually come in her mouth. She immediately swallows, then gasps for air.

"Water... please, master," she croaks.

I pull my pants up and lead her downstairs, giving her a drink of water.

"Ada! Come here," I call. She hurries into the room, bare feet slapping on the floor.

With both my nubile young slave girls before me, I remove their restraints and hang their leashes by the front door.

"Ok, you two get to know each other and start getting the house in order. I'll be upstairs taking a nap," I tell them. I figure it's a good idea to let the girls get to know each other without me lurking in the background.

"Yes, master," they intone almost simultaneously.

I head upstairs, remove my boots, and lay on the bed. It'll be time for lunch soon; Liska said she'd take care of it. I close my eyes for what seems like only seconds.

I'm rudely awakened by shrill voices from downstairs. Irritated, I roll out of bed and walk over to the stairs, looking down to see what the problem is.

Liska has her hands on her hips, fluffy tail lashing angrily.

"You can't cook, you can't clean, and you don't do what you're told! What good are you?!"

"Better than you," Ada snorts.

"How?! You don't know how to do anything, and you won't listen to me!" Liska stomps her foot, but she's in her bare feet now and between that and her small size it lacks the desired effect.

"Why should I listen to you? You're clearly not in master's good graces."

"I'm his number one slave!"

"Really?" retorts Ada. "Until this morning, you were his only slave. That doesn't make you the number one slave. And as I said, you're clearly not in master's favor."

"What do you mean?" Liska demands.

"I saw the dirty things you were doing with him."

Liska suddenly turns beet red and stammers for a moment, then rallies.

"You don't know what you're talking about! There's a reason Liska was doing that!"

"Oh?"

"AHEM."

Both girls' heads snap in my direction with a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"What's the problem?"

"Master, I-"

"Master, she-"

"Ah-ah! One at a time. Liska?"

Ada seems scandalized that I intend to hear Liska's side of the story first. Liska bows her head, wringing her tail like a naughty schoolgirl who got caught by the teacher.

"Master, Liska tried to tell Ada what needed to be done, but she won't listen to Liska," frustration bleeds through into her voice. "Ada says she shouldn't have to listen to Liska, because Liska isn't the number one slave," she adds quietly. There's an implied 'am I?' that goes unspoken.

"Ada?"

"Master, Ada wants to help, but Liska keeps bossing Ada around. Clearly she's jealous because I'm a higher status slave."

"I see."

Ada doesn't react to my deadpan response, but Liska shifts nervously. She remembers the incident with the Zune.

"I want both you girls to lean over the table," I say. They both comply immediately. Ada seems puzzled, Liska is gritting her teeth; she knows what's coming.

"I'm not happy at being woken from my nap," I say, lifting Liska's dress and tail out of the way. She's wearing bloomers, but I leave them be. "It would have been allright if you had come to ask me to resolve things for you, but instead you woke me up arguing with each other."

"Liska," I say. "This is for not handling things in a more quiet, mature manner."

I smack her once on the ass, not very hard, and she seems surprised to only get one spanking, and a gentle one at that. Then I step over to Ada and place my hand on her bare ass.

"You were disobedient. I told you to help Liska get the house cleaned up, and instead you argued with her. This is for disobeying-" SMACK. "This is for being argumentative-" SMACK. "And this is for making me have to come down here to deal with things." SMACK. Ada whimpers, and I leave a red handprint on both her ass cheeks.

"Stand up and look at me."

Both girls immediately comply.

"You two need to get along, understand? This is my house, and as long as you live in it, there will be no further quarreling. For the record, Liska is my number one slave. Ada, when Liska tells you to do something, you do it. Liska, just because you're in charge doesn't mean you get to be bossy. You were a big sister before, you need to be one again. I expect both of you to be good girls and work together. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, master," they reply in stereo.

They both look down at the floor, shame-faced.

"Now... what's this about Liska doing something dirty?"

Liska turns an amazing shade of red, almost matching her hair, and Ada does a good impression of a fish, opening and closing her mouth several times.

"I asked a question."

"M-master," Liska says, voice quavering, "Um... Wh-what we were doing, the way master was using Liska for his pleasure..."

"Yes?"

"N-normally that's reserved as a punishment. Doing something sexual with your mouth is... dirty and humiliating."

Oh. That's why she seemed uncomfortable doing it. Not just because she had zero experience with oral sex.

I look at Ada and decide to clear things up.

"Liska is currently having her... flow. I can't have sex with her until she's finished. She did that as a special favor to make her master happy. It's not a punishment, it's not embarassing, she did it because she's a good girl and she wanted to make me happy. Understand?"

Ada nods. Liska still looks embarassed.

"And I expect the same from you, Ada."

She opens her mouth in shock, glancing at Liska, then shuts her mouth with an audible snap.

"Y-yes, master."

"Now then. Liska, are you going to be a good girl?"

"Yes, master. Liska will be a good girl."

"Ada?"

"Ada will be a good girl, master."

"Good. I don't want to hear another argument out of you. You girls start making lunch."

"Yes, master!"

Leaping into action, they both rush into the kitchen. Liska clearly is the only one with half a clue what to do, and Ada mostly stands there watching, complying when Liska hands her something and tells her what to do with it.

Ok. That crisis seems resolved. For now, at least. Ada really doesn't know how to do anything though? The slave dealer said she was being sold as a domestic slave, since her scarring severely reduced her value as a sex slave, but he didn't tell me she didn't know how to do ANYTHING. That son of a bitch cheated me! I specifically went for a house slave, and he sold me a bedwarmer and nothing else!

What good is a girl whose only use is sex?

... ok, yeah, dumb question. But still!

Then again, it is kinda my fault for not asking what skills she had. Caveat emptor.

"Look in that box and hand me the sack that says flour, please."

Ada gives Liska an odd look, then bends over to peer into the box and... What is she doing? She pokes a couple of bags with one finger, then stands up, looking helpless.

"None of them are saying anything."

Liska and I both look at her like she just grew a second head.

"Do... No, they don't talk. The one that has writing on it that says 'flour'."

Ada turns an interesting shade of red, then gestures to convey she doesn't understand. I can't help, because I can't read any of it either. But does Ada seriously not know what writing is?

Liska huffs in annoyance, flicking her tail dangerously close to the fire on the stove, and digs around in the box to extract the sack of flour. Ada looks at the floor, rubbing one foot on top of the other, clearly feeling stupid and useless.

"Ada. Come here," I say.

She shuffles over, clearly expecting to be criticized. I gesture at the floor and she kneels down beside me.

"Do you not know what writing is?"

She shakes her head and looks like she's about to cry. She really does believe she's going to be punished for not knowing. I pat her on the head reassuringly.

I pick up a canister of... I'm not sure what, and point to the writing on it.

"You've never seen symbols like these?"

"The squiggly pictures?"

"That's right, the squiggly pictures. You've never seen them before?"

She shakes her head.

She not only was never taught to read, she didn't have a concept of reading until now. Which... I guess makes sense, considering that until she was left permanently scarred from a beating, her only purpose in life was to make her owner happy with sex.

That... wow. That's depressing. Imagine your entire reason for existing being so someone could buy you and use you as an onahole.

Liska looks over her shoulder at Ada, suddenly much more sympathetic.

"Ada hasn't even seen writing before?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, that's understandable," she says, clearly trying to soften the effects of her earlier irritation with Ada. "But it's still silly to think a bag of flour would talk aloud!"

Ada looks shame-faced again. I pull out my phone, turn it on, and start playing an audio book I listen to on load road trips. It starts narrating where I last left off; YT is being taken to the hoosegow by the police.

Liska looks startled, but not too terribly; she's seen me pull out my phone before, even if she has no idea what it does, and she knows my Zune plays music.

Ada, on the other hand, is utterly flabbergasted, jaw hanging open.

"It... it talks!"

I hold it in front of her and she stares at the glowing screen as it continues narrating the story. Not that either of them can understand a word of it, of course.

I stop the audiobook and turn the phone back off, pocketing it. Ada is looking at me with awe mingled a little bit of fear.

"Is... is master a wizard?"

I chuckle and pat her head. Actually, hang on- are wizards a thing here? I don't remember if magic was one of the settings I chose.

"Master has many wondrous things from his home country," Liska comments, frowning with concentration as something starts sizzling in a small frying pan.

"They're not magic, just very well built devices," I say. That reminds me... "And you shouldn't go touching any of them without my permission. Some of them are very fragile and irreplaceable, and some of them are very dangerous. You won't understand what they are or what they do, and if you break something or worse, get seriously hurt or killed, I will be very upset."

"Please be a good girl and stay out of master's things," Liska throws in, beginning to transfer food onto plates, "Or else master will have to bend you over the table again and spank you."

Ada's eyes widen and she hastily declares, "Ada will be a good girl!"

"I'm glad," I reply, patting her on the head again. She gives me an odd look as I do so, but doesn't say anything.

Liska sets three plates on the table, starting with mine, and then states, "I did the best I could, master. It's not much, but please enjoy."

She then kneels down beside me, in her usual position, and glares at Ada. Ada glances at me, then scoots under the table to pop out on the other side to sit beside Liska, who is firmly between Ada and me.

Do I detect a hint of jealousy from the foxgirl who'd been telling me I should buy another slave? Or is there protocol that the number one slave and her subordinates have to follow?

Probably a little of both.

Lunch consists of small, thick pancakes, a piece of sausage, and scrambled eggs. There's no seasoning, not even salt, and the pancakes are badly in need of at least some butter, but it's all quite serviceable. I make sure to praise Liska's cooking and pat her on the head, and she beams at me. Ada quietly comments that the breakfast is good too.

Finished, I lean back contentedly and pat my thigh, prompting Liska to lean against it and allow me to scratch her ears. Ada is giving us an odd look, but remains silent, sitting with her hands in her lap.

"Liska, do you think you can heat up some water for a bath?"

She nods, giving an aside glance at Ada, and I give a little nod. Yes, the bath is for our newest acquisition. Like Liska when I first got her, Ada clearly hasn't been allowed to bathe recently, though she's cleaner than Liska was and doesn't have a soiled, smelly tunic.

"Ok. May I have Ada help me prepare the bath?"

I nod my assent. Liska stands up and Ada hurries to follow her to the bathroom.

I set the plates in the sink, and pass by the bathroom as the girls work together to pump water into a bucket.

"Finish filling that, then bring it to the kitchen. I've got to stoke up the fire," Liska says. Ada nods and continues pumping, her small breasts bouncing with the effort.

While I could watch that all day, I instead head upstairs and start emptying out my backpack.

The sleeping bag, tent, and mess kit all go in the corner of the bedroom. Liska's already hung up my clothes. I set my toiletries kit aside to take downstairs. I then pull out the only two books in the backpack and set them on the nightstand by the bed. Everything else can stay in the backpack for now.

Heading downstairs, the girls are carefully pouring hot water from the pot on the stove back into the bucket, then Ada carries it into the bathroom. Liska looks slightly relieved to have someone else carry it instead of having to struggle with it herself.

I follow them into the bathroom and sit on the kitchen chair the girls apparently moved in there for just that purpose, and Liska steers Ada onto the little stool we bought yesterday.

"Master and I are going to bathe you now."

Ada looks startled.

"M-master doesn't have to do that!"

Liska kneels beside Ada and whispers into her ear, "Master is a kind master. He takes good care of what he owns. And it gives him an excuse to touch your body."

Hey now, you can't just come right out and say it like that!

Ada's cheeks acquire a rosy tinge, and she says, "Master can touch Ada whenever he pleases."

Liska's ears flap in amusement and she smiles at Ada, then glances at me knowingly.

My little foxgirl assists me in washing Ada's hair, combing it out, shampooing it, and rinsing it. Ada seems impressed with the shampoo.

"It cleans my hair even better than soapberries!"

"Soapberries?" I ask.

Ada nods.

"It's what they had all the sex slaves wash their hair with. They make it into a brick and you rub it all over your wet hair and it makes bubbles like this stuff! This smells nicer though."

Liska looks over at me from where she's pouring more water over Ada's head and adds, "It's expensive, because of how far they have to transport it. Commoners like my family just burn wheat chaff and scrub our hair with the ashes. Your hair gets very dry afterward though, so we often used a little oil from the lamp to keep our hair soft and shiny."

Looks like I might be able to find a replacement for my shampoo once it runs out after all. Between Liska's long hair and tail, I was going through it a lot faster than usual; Ada is just fuel for the fire.

Ada leans back and closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation of Liska's fingers massaging her scalp.

"Ada hasn't had a proper bath since..."

She shifts uncomfortably on the stool and I pat her shoulder reassuringly.

"All done," Liska says approvingly as she rinses the last of the shampoo from Ada's hair. Now for the fun part.

I get my bar of pine tar soap wet, rub it all over my hands, then rub my hands together vigorously to lather it up. Then I begin applying soap to Ada's back, her flat stomach, her breasts, everywhere. Liska perches on the edge of the large bathtub and watches passively as I scrub every inch of Ada clean.

Liska's breasts are evenly round and firm, probably in A cup territory, but proportional to her small body. Ada, also a short and slender girl but not to the degree Liska is, has fuller breasts, definitely in B cup territory; where Liska's are equally rounded all around, seemingly in defiance of gravity (probably due to their small size), Ada's are slightly more rounded at the bottom than at the top. Liska's nipples are a bright pink and very small; Ada's are a darker pink, with small areola but larger nipples. It's a pleasing contrast. Liska's breasts are absolutely perfect, but I quite like Ada's as well.

Mmm. It'll be time consuming and laborious to fill it with hot water, but I am definitely getting into that bathtub with both my girls. Soon. I want a direct side-by-side comparison.

Ada makes no reaction when I soap and wash her nether regions with my bare hands, whereas Liska definitely was shy about it. I glance over at my pretty foxgirl, watching us from the side of the tub, and her ears are twitching back and forth as she bites her lower lip.

Is she getting jealous? Or aroused? Or maybe a little of both?

I definitely need to get them both in the tub with me. Compete for my affections, girls!

"Master? Is it ok if Ada makes a request?"

"Sure," I say as I pour some more water down her back to rinse off the soap.

"Ada would like to shave herself for master."

I'm taken aback for a moment; like Liska, she doesn't have any body hair, but her crotch did feel a little bristly. Just a little.

"Uh, sure," I say, digging my razor out of my toiletries kit. I have to show her how to hold it, since she's never seen a safety razor before, and then I hand her the bar of soap. Ada lathers it up in her hands and applies the foamy soap to her crotch, legs, and armpits while Liska stares in rapt fascination.

Ada takes a moment to get used to the new style of razor, then begins shaving her legs. Liska moves from the side of the tub to the floor in front of Ada, tail twitching curiously. After a moment, Liska looks at Ada and asks, "May I?"

Ada nods. "Sometimes it's easier having another girl help."

Liska, unsure of what she's doing, runs the razor down Ada's leg a couple times, captivated. Then she hands the razor back and perches herself on the edge of the tub again.

Ada notes Liska's behavior and asks, "Has Liska never shaved before?"

She shakes her head.

"Vixens only have hair on their head and tail. We don't grow it anywhere else."

Wait- seriously?! This whole time I thought she shaved herself bare, but that's natural?

My little foxgirl is just full of surprises.

Ada finishes shaving, and I rinse her off with the last of the water in the bucket.

Having gotten her all clean, I have Ada stand up; Liska rubs her dry with a towel, while I dry her hair with another.

"How do you feel?" I ask.

Ada ducks her head shyly and replies, "Nice and clean. Thank you, master."

I lean closer to her, causing her to have to look up at me, and I say, in a quiet, seductive tone, "Do you know what else your master wants to get nice and clean?"

"W-what?"

"The house," I say in a flat tone. Ada blinks and Liska giggles, then hops to her feet and walks out of the bathroom, tail wagging ever so slightly in amusement. I pat Ada on her bare bottom and she precedes me out the door.

Actually, that reminds me. As nice as it is, Ada doesn't have to walk around the house naked.

"Girls, come upstairs for a moment."

They obediently follow me up to the bedroom and I open the wardrobe, pulling out Liska's old tunic.

"Arms up," I tell Ada. She obeys after a fraction of a second of confused hesitation, and I slide the tunic over her head and pull it down. She feels the material awkwardly with her fingertips and takes a few steps around the room, apparently unused to the feel of cloth around her body.

"What do you think?"

"It chafes my nipples," she immediately replies.

Liska giggles and hugs her affectionately; it's good to see they're starting to get along.

"The clothes master ordered are much nicer. You'll like them, I promise."

"Will I look as pretty as you then?"

Liska nods, ears flapping once.

"Ok, back to work girls," I say, clapping my hands once to get their attention. "This house still needs cleaned and organized."

"Yes, master!"

They trot off down the stairs and I have peace and quiet for another half hour or so. Then there's another high-pitched argument and I come down the stairs, irritated.

Stepping into one of the downstairs rooms that doesn't have any furniture or a designated use yet, I find both girls fussing shrilly at one another, assorted cleaning implements scattered about the floor.

"Hey!"

They both freeze and turn to look at me, clearly realizing they're in trouble again.

"Kitchen table. Now."

They hurriedly trot into the kitchen/dining area and stand in front of the table.

"Bend over," I say, irritated. They both bend over the table, and both look like they're about to cry.

Hands on my hips, I stand behind them, fuming. Again with this shit? I thought we settled this already. I'll play fair and start with Ada this time.

"Ada, what's the problem?"

"Liska keeps making me carry the bucket of water. I'm always the one who fills and empties it too. She's doing all the easy work, like sweeping."

"Liska?"

"Master... the bucket is too heavy for Liska. I tried. So I had Ada do it."

I lift Liska's dress and tail out of the way and she braces herself for another spanking.

SMACK! "This is for arguing when I told you to handle it maturely or to bring it to me." SMACK! "And this is for making me have to intervene again."

I pull her dress back down while she bites her lip, ears flattened to the sides, and whimpers. I didn't hold back on the paddling this time.

Then I lift Ada's tunic out of the way and give her a good smack on the ass.

SMACK! "This is for arguing. Again." SMACK! "This is for making me have to intervene." SMACK! "And this is for not doing what Liska says. You're bigger and stronger than Liska, so sometimes that means you'll have to do the hard parts she struggles with. Liska is the number one slave; when she tells you to do something, you do it. If you think she isn't being fair, you come to me and I'll deal with it. I promise I won't be angry if you girls come to me and ask me to settle things between you, but if I have to come break up an argument, neither of you are going to be able to sit down afterward. Understand?"

They both nod vigorously and I hear a chorus of "yes, master".

"I don't want to have to punish either of you. I want you to be my good girls. Ok?"

"Yes, master."

"Y-yes, master."

"Ok. Stand up."

They both stand up straight, sniffling, and I hug first Liska, then Ada, and set them to work again.

Hiding around the corner, I listen while Liska retrieves the broom and dustpan and resumes sweeping, and Ada moves the bucket of water into the corner and begins scrubbing where Liska already swept.

"Is... is that how master usually punishes you?"

"Uh-huh. He only punished Liska once before, when I disobeyed him," Liska replies over the whisk-whisk sound of her broom. "Stay out of his things," she adds seriously.

"He doesn't beat you?"

"Master's a good master. He doesn't hurt Liska. He won't hurt Ada either."

There's a long moment of silence, then Liska adds, "Ada is safe with master."

I can hear sobbing. I peek around the corner and Liska is hugging the taller Ada and making shushing noises, tail drooping down. Ada is crying into the top of Liska's head.

I awkwardly sneak past the room and up the stairs, shut the bedroom door, and sit on the bed, exiling myself from further contact with what I'm gradually realizing are two girls who are both traumatized to varying degrees. I'm a slave owner. I own them. They're my property. I spank them for being disobedient or annoying me, like they're my children, I think of Liska as my pet, and I do what I want to them sexually, and they have no choice but to put up with it.

And I'm a GOOD slave owner, as far as they're concerned.

I feel like such a piece of shit, even though I should feel relatively good about myself, compared to the average slave owner.

I've given them the stick twice today, maybe it's time for the carrot.

Pulling out my phone, I head back downstairs. Liska has resumed sweeping, and Ada is on her knees, scrubbing the corner of the room. Her face is red and puffy from crying, but she seems ok now.

"You know what would help this go faster?" I ask cheerfully as I walk in the room.

They both look at me and I crank up the volume on my phone and set it in the window, smiling at them. I saw this on tv once.

Music starts playing and I snap my fingers in time to it, then start awkwardly dancing in place. Liska's ears perk up as she watches my odd behavior.

"Uptown got its hustlers, bowery got its bums, 42nd street got big Jim Walker, he's a pool shootin' son of a gun..."

Not that they understand the lyrics, but c'mon. It's a classic.

I wave to Liska and she drops the broom, grinning, and she begins wiggling her butt back and forth to wag her tail even more vigorously before dancing in her bare feet.

"That's it! C'mon, Ada!"

Ada rises to her feet, unsure what's going on. I take Liska by the hands and we dance back and forth for a bit, then I wave Ada over. She stands there awkwardly, so I take her by the hands and sort of lead her around the room. Liska giggles and grabs her by the hips, getting her to wiggle her butt too, then follows us around the room, the hem of her dress swirling around her as her long, red hair and orange tail sail out in an arc when she twirls around.

"You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger, and you don't mess around with Jim!"

I pass Ada's hands to Liska and she dances Ada around the room, with the new girl gradually loosening up and grinning. She never does quite figure out dancing though.

The song ends and I clap my hands to ensure I've got their attention.

"Allright girls, back to work! But let's keep the music going, huh?"

The girls work together much more harmoniously now, and together they get the entire first floor of the house cleaned in under an hour. They only had a couple rooms left anyway.

"Ok, I think that's enough work for today. Good job, girls."

Liska trots over to receive a congratulatory pat on the head, and then Ada comes over to stand beside her, looking at both of us strangely for a moment before she receives her own pat on the head.

I sit at the kitchen chair and Liska sinks down to her knees beside me, resting her head on my leg. I gently tousle her hair, then start scratching her ears. Ada watches for a moment before kneeling down on my other side, then hesitantly resting her head on my leg as well. I don't think ear scratching will have the same effect for her, so I simply rest my hand on her head and gently stroke her hair.

"You did good work today, girls. In spite of one or two moments where I had to come down on you. You worked hard, and you did a good job."

"Thank you, master," Liska sighs, tilting her head for a slightly better angle on her ear scratching.

"Thank you, master," Ada follows quickly.

I lean back, petting both my girls, and wondering how the hell I got so lucky.

Ok, maybe I don't have superpowers, or magic, or any of that other Mary Sue bullshit isekai protagonists have, but I've definitely come out a winner. Maybe this world isn't so bad after all.

Well... at least if you're a wealthy dick who can buy slaves and his own house. Not so much if you're a slave. Or a peasant. Hmm. Maybe this world sucks just as hard as the one I left, and the only difference is that I'm not on the receiving end this time.

Ada looks bored with the hair stroking, but is watching Liska with interest as my little foxgirl mewls in pleasure when I find just the right spot to scratch.

I give them a few more minutes to sit there, then announce to the air, "I suppose it's about time to start making dinner."

Liska leaps to her feet, tail flagging behind her, and starts bustling about in the kitchen, with Ada following shortly behind. Well, we've got prompt obedience down now. That's good.

I head upstairs and pretend to be busy, but I'm really just waiting for dinner to be ready. The problem with being a slave owner is that the slaves do all the work, so you don't really have much to do yourself. If you can call that a problem. Entertainment isn't as readily available, that's for sure. No tv, no internet, no vi- Hold on.

I reach into my backpack and pull out a leather carry case, unzip it, and withdraw my 3DS.

It has a full battery and I can charge it from the power bank and my little solar panel, so it should last me quite a while. I flop onto the bed, flip it open, and start playing.

Suck it, Team Skull. You'll never be as badass as Team Rocket!

I'm absorbed in my game when Liska sticks her head in the bedroom.

"Master? Dinner is ready."

She looks at the 3DS curiously, but doesn't ask about it as I power it down and set it on the nightstand. As far as she's concerned, it's off limits. Or else she'll get another spanking. A spanking may be infinitely preferable to a beating or whatever sick way the more psychotic slave owners get their jollies, but she still would much rather avoid it.

I glance at my watch and realize it's a lot later than I thought. Then again, everything has to be cooked from scratch, on a wood burning stove. No prepackaged meals, no microwave, no delivery, no fast food.

Dinner consists of dry biscuits and a vegetable stew, with more of the sausage from lunch on the side. Liska seems to deflate when she realizes the bottom of the biscuits got slightly burnt, but I compliment her cooking anyway and pat her on the head. This stew really needs some salt and pepper. And a little butter for the biscuits wouldn't be bad. But it's a perfectly serviceable, if bland, meal. Ada eats it all without comment, gobbling her food down nearly as quickly as Liska did for the first few days I owned her.

I sit back and relax while the girls take the plates and start washing dishes, not needing any prompting from me. Such good girls. While they clean up, I go around closing the shutters on all the downstairs windows and doublechecking that the doors to the outside are locked.

I head upstairs, both my slaves following behind me, and Ada pauses outside the windowless closet next to the bedroom.

"Is Ada to sleep here?"

I half expect Liska to inform her that she isn't, but Liska is waiting to hear my answer too.

Ah. Liska is the number one slave, and as such may receive favoritism that the new girl doesn't get. Just because Liska sleeps in the same room as me doesn't mean Ada will too.

"No. You girls sleep in here."

I light the lanterns on the nightstands, then close the wooden shutters on the window.

The house is empty except for the three of us, and the front and back doors are firmly locked, both with a key and a deadbolt, and all the shutters closed, but I still feel uncomfortable sleeping with the door open. I shut it, then shoot the bolt home, locking the door.

I sit on the edge of the bed and Liska immediately drops to her knees to help me remove my boots, with Ada quickly following suit; she doesn't know the routine, so she's trying to play catch up and copy whatever Liska is doing. Liska pulls each boot off, passing it to Ada and pointing for her to deposit it by the chest of drawers. I unholster my pistol and stick it under the pillows, then remove my pants and socks, which Liska neatly sets on top of the chest of drawers. Then she trots over to the wardrobe, opens it, undresses, and carefully hangs her dress, blouse, and apron alongside her stockings. Then she turns to Ada.

"Arms up! Skin the rabbit!"

Clever little fox, imitating what master says. Ada obediently raises her arms and Liska, with more difficulty since she's shorter than Ada and I'm much taller than either of them, pulls the tunic off and hangs it back up in the wardrobe. Ada is nude again, and Liska is wearing only her bloomers.

Taking Ada by the hand, Liska announces that they're going to relieve themselves one last time before bed, and I nod my assent. She unbolts the door, flinging it wide open, and both girls hurry downstairs. It's only a minute or so before they both come running back into the bedroom, bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor, and shut and lock the door again.

"How could you even see where you were going?" Ada complains. Liska shrugs, then sits on the rug by the bed, gesturing for Ada to join her.

"This is where we'll sleep," she announces. Ada doesn't seem surprised. Do slaves really sleep on the floor most of the time?

Retrieving her blanket from last night, Liska lays down on the rug and Ada lays down beside her, both girls facing each other. Liska pulls something out from under the blanket.

"This is Soft Pig. Master allows Liska to sleep with him. Would you like to hold him?"

Ada blinks, then gingerly takes the stuffed animal and clutches him to her bare breasts. Liska pulls the blanket up so only their heads and the tip of her tail are exposed, and I blow out both lanterns.

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight, master."

"Um, goodnight, master."

The room is dark for perhaps a minute, when I hear the girls start whispering to each other. I snort in amusement; they're like a couple of kids at a sleepover.

Liska raises her head and looks over her shoulder at me; she's just barely visible in the dark.

"Master? Is it ok if we talk?"

"Talk all you want. Just do it quietly."

"Yes, master."

They resume whispering to one another in the darkness and I roll onto my side, hand under my pillow and clutching the grip of my pistol.

They're so cute.

Chapter 9: Dirty

Last update for the week. Enjoy the weekend, guys; shit gets real next week.

---

I wake up when I hear the bolt on the door being opened. I look over and one of the girls, I think Liska, steps out into the hall. I glance at my watch and the glowing hands indicate it's about the usual time for waking up.

A minute or so later, whichever girl left the room comes back, shutting and bolting the door, then heads over to the wardrobe. As confidently as she's moving in the dark, it must be Liska. She opens the wardrobe, then slides off her bloomers and hangs them inside, then shuts it again. Yep, definitely Liska.

She pads over to the side of the bed, carefully avoiding stepping on a still-asleep Ada, and kneels down beside the bed.

"Master?" she whispers.

"Mm?"

"Liska's flow is over. Master may use Liska as he desires again."

I lift up the blankets and pat the bed beside me, and she crawls into bed with me. I spoon her up against me, her fluffy tail between her back and my belly, and doze off again.

I wake again after a few minutes to discover Ada sitting up, looking around the room with a confused look on her face. I wave to get her attention, then pull back the blanket to reveal a snoozing Liska. Then I pat the bed.

Ada crawls over to the bed on all fours, then when she hesitates at getting in I pat the bed again. She tentatively gets onto the bed, and I pull the blanket over the three of us. Then I put my arms around both my girls and squeeze them close to me.

Liska stirs, and hugs Ada without waking up. Hnnng! Such a cute little foxgirl! Ada puts her arms around Liska, still unsure of herself, and I gently pat her on the rear before dozing off again.

Life is good.

I wake up again with the sun streaming through the slats in the wooden shutters, and glance at my watch. It's only been half an hour. Liska is still asleep, but Ada is awake and looking at me like she doesn't really know what she's supposed to be doing besides just laying there. I sit up on the pillows and yawn.

"Good morning, Ada."

"Good morning, master," she says, sitting up hurriedly.

Liska protests the sudden movement in her sleep and scrunches up into a tighter ball under the blankets.

"Why don't you open the shutters for me."

Ada gets out of bed and hurries over to the window, working the lever to open the shutters and lock them open.

"Would you like the window open, master?"

"Sure."

She opens the window as well, and a cool breeze blows into the room. Mmm. That feels nice.

I pat the other side of the mattress and she climbs back into bed on my right side. I put one arm around her and my other around Liska and hug them both to me. Liska rolls over sleepily and hugs me back, and Ada hesitantly hugs me as well.

I am now the filling in a slave girl sandwich. I can die happy.

Wait- no I can't. I haven't had a threesome with them yet!

Liska blinks sleepily, and smiles at me.

"Good morning, master."

"Good morning, Liska."

She has a halo of bedhead. It looks adorable. She sits up and stretches, then smiles contentedly as I brush her hair somewhat into place with one hand.

"Girls, I think today is a do nothing day."

"Do nothing day?"

"Yup. The only work we're going to do today is making meals. No work today. We're just going to rest and relax."

Liska, speaking carefully so as not to contradict me, says, "Master also wanted to buy another slave today. One that could cook and do housework."

Ah. That's right. There's supposed to be a shipment of foreign slaves today. And Giros is supposed to have the money for the other half of my aluminum coin today. Or possibly tomorrow. I think I'll wait until tomorrow; if I go today, I might look desperate. And it'll be even worse if he doesn't have the money yet and tells me to come back tomorrow. Yeah, I'll visit Giros tomorrow.

Ada sounds pitiful as she says, "I'm sorry Ada isn't more useful."

Interestingly, before I can even say anything to reassure her, Liska is the one who jumps in.

"Ada will learn how to be useful! And Ada is good for master; she's very pretty, so master will look important holding her leash."

"Really?"

"Really," Liska says firmly. Then she looks at me and says, "Ada is a good girl."

"That's right," I say kindly, stroking Ada's hair, "Ada is a good girl."

Then I reach over and Liska tilts her head to allow me to scratch her ear as I tell her, "And Liska is a good girl too."

Ada sits up and stares at Liska curiously, then asks, "May I touch your ears too?"

Liska nods and leans forward, and Ada tentatively reaches out and touches Liska's ears, feeling them up and down. Liska's ears twitch in reaction, then she holds them still.

"They're so odd! And fuzzy! How do you move them like that?"

Liska waggles her ears, grinning. Her fox ears are very expressive, after all.

After a moment, Ada cautiously asks, "May I touch your tail too?"

Liska shifts, turning her rear so it points more toward Ada and I, and flicks her tail across my stomach so it's directly in front of Ada. Ada strokes the length of her tail, apparently awed.

"It's so soft and fluffy!" She grins as she sinks her hand into Liska's fur, running her fingers through it. "The other girls all said vixens were dirty and had coarse fur everywhere, but that's not true at all!"

Liska's ears flatten to the sides, feelings hurt but clearly trying not to take it personally.

"Let me show you what else you can do with that tail," I say, reaching out to scratch at the base of Liska's tail. She twitches the end of her tail in Ada's hands, and stretches out on the bed beside me, butt stuck up in the air and pointed at me as I give her rump a good scratching. Ada hesitates, then reaches out and starts scratching the base of Liska's tail too, eliciting a.... I'm not sure what you'd call it, a squeak? A yip? of enjoyment from Liska. She raises her fluffy tail into the air like an orange traffic cone tipped in black, giving me a beautiful view of her pale, clean slit between her legs.

I pat her rump and signal her to turn around so her head is pointing the same direction as mine and she complies, then scoots over on top of me, belly to belly, when I nudge her there. I reach up with both hands, each one scratching an ear, and she closes her eyes, luxuriating in the sensation.

"Keep scratching," I tell Ada. Grinning and enjoying the response she gets from Liska almost as much as I do, Ada scratches the base of Liska's tail and she mewls in pleasure. I scratch her ears harder and Liska's left leg begins spasming, making Ada look at it oddly and then laugh as she gets into the tail scratching with both hands.

I stop scratching her ears and slide one hand down the length of her back to her tail, making Ada stop scratching as well. Liska sighs happily and rolls over on top of me, legs splayed. Ada continues to stroke Liska's tail, commenting once again on how soft and fluffy it is. Then she blushes slightly.

"Liska?"

"Hmm?"

"I always heard vixens had such coarse fur, but yours is so soft. And vixens were supposed to be covered in fur all over, but you're bare. You really don't need to shave?"

"No," Liska says, raising her head to meet Ada's curious gaze. "The only hair on our bodies is what grows on our heads and on our tails. Vixens never get hair anywhere else. Foxmen are a little hairier. A little. My father never could grow a beard like he wanted."

Ada runs one hand down Liska's leg, comparing it to her own. Then she looks Liska in the eye and blushes again.

"May I?"

Liska nods, then turns red herself as Ada reaches out and rubs her hand up and down her slit.

"So smooth," she says. "Ada is jealous."

"Liska is jealous too," she says, reaching out to touch Ada's belly. She very nearly runs her hand down to Ada's nice little slit as well, but chickens out at the last second. "Ada doesn't need to worry about her monthly flow at all. Master can make use of Ada every single day without interruption."

Girls, skinship is a beautiful thing, but I'm not going to be able to control myself much longer with two naked, teenage girls on either side of me, exploring each other's bodies.

Actually, hold on- I own them and their delicious bodies. Why do I need to control myself when I can do as I please?

"So tell me why it's dirty to use your mouth to pleasure master."

Both girls flush slightly; they get embarassed so easily! It's adorable.

"The mouth is for food," Liska explains. "Not for sex. Usually when a slave's owner has her use her mouth to pleasure him, it's punishment. To humiliate her in front of the other slaves and make them think she's dirty."

"Is it dirty when I put it in here?" I ask, rubbing my hand down her slit.

"N-no! Liska's sheath was made to accomodate her master."

"Really. And what about Ada?" I ask, placing my hand on hers.

Ada's face warms, but she meets my gaze steadily and says, "Ada's sheath was made to be filled by master."

"But it's dirty when you use your mouth?"

She nods. Liska flicks her ears in agreement. I reach over and tousle her red hair affectionately.

"But you understand I wasn't punishing you when you used your mouth before, right?"

Liska nods.

"Master is from far away, and there are many customs he is unfamiliar with. Master didn't know it was... dirty, for Liska to do that." She flicks her ears and holds my hand in place while rubbing her cheek against my palm. "I know master wouldn't do something to hurt Liska. Master is a good master."

This is all new information for Ada, who is absorbing it intently. Liska turns to her new compatriot and fills her in with more detail than yesterday.

"It was time for Liska's flow, so master couldn't make use of Liska's body as normal. Master asked Liska to use her mouth to pleasure him while Liska's sheath was unavailable."

"Well, I'm going to tell you girls now, that it is not dirty. You're pleasing your master, and anything you do to please your master isn't dirty. Good girls want to please their master, and that isn't dirty."

"Ada will be a good girl, master."

"Liska will be a good girl."

"I know you will," I say, stroking both their heads affectionately.

Then I slide my boxers down with a grin and say, "Why don't you show your master what good girls you really are?"

They both look at me uncertainly, Liska's ears pricking forward as she looks at me innocently. I gesture for her to get between my legs and she kneels there, then bends down at my gesture. Then she catches on that I want her to give me another blowjob and she turns red again and starts trembling.

"It's ok; you're a good girl, remember? It's not dirty. You're making your master happy, like a good girl does. Right?"

She nods, then slowly grasps my penis in one hand and puts it in her mouth. Ada is staring in equal parts amazement and disgust.

Liska begins moving her head up and down as I taught her, and I stroke the back of her head gently.

"Good girl. See? It's not so bad."

I let her continue sucking my dick for a bit longer, then say, "Ok, now it's Ada's turn."

Ada looks stricken, and freezes. Liska sits up and hugs her, squishing their small breasts together, then guides her down in a kneeling position over my crotch.

"It's ok," she says. "Ada is a good girl. This will make master happy."

Ada, looking like she's torn between crying and running away, instead grabs my dick and puts it in her mouth. Liska whispers in her ear and Ada immediately rearranges the way she's holding me in her mouth so her teeth won't get me. Then Liska bobs her head, saying, "Like this," and Ada slowly imitates her.

"There's a good girl," I say to encourage her, brushing her hair back from her face and smiling at her. I let her go on for another minute or so, then pat the bed on either side of me, signaling my girls to spoon up against me.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Liska shakes her head, and Ada appears to be much less upset than before.

"Does master really like that?"

"Yes, I do. Don't worry, you won't always have to do that. I understand if you don't enjoy doing it."

Ada shakes her head.

"Ada must obey master, regardless of her wishes. Ada will do whatever master tells her to do."

Liska hugs me tightly, and says, "Liska wants to please her master. Use Liska however you want."

I roll onto all fours above her and she spreads her legs, knees up to her shoulders, for me. I move her tail to the side, pull my shirt off, and lower myself onto her, rubbing my dick up and down her slit to find the entry; she shudders as I penetrate her, putting her arms around me as I wrap her up in mine. Then she looks over at Ada, who's watching with wide eyes, and not only turns an adorable shade of red, but tries to hide her face below my shoulder.

"Don't be shy," I tell her, amused. "I want to wait until Ada is more familiar with me and feels safe, but she's going to be joining us in the near future. C'mon. You're a tutor, aren't you? Just think of Ada as your student; she's watching you to learn the ways of sex from her big sister."

Liska quits hiding her face, but is still an amazing shade of red, laying her head on the pillow with her ears flattened to the sides. She feels tense. I begin moving in and out of her, slowly, and she gradually relaxes. Ada is staring, watching us. Then she leans back to get a better view of my shaft driving into Liska's soft cleft for a while, then sits back up to watch us with rapt attention, utterly fascinated.

I start moving faster, thrusting in and out of Liska, and she starts gasping. Her ears are erect and pointed straight forward. She puts first one leg, then the other, around my waist, dainty heels bouncing gently off of me as I drive myself into her, over and over. Ada again leans behind us, apparently to watch my penis thrust in and out of Liska, then moves around so she's kneeling on the bed beside us. She has a concerned look on her face and asks Liska, "Does it hurt?"

Liska shakes her head, gasping for breath as I pound her harder. I keep meaning to be more gentle with my little foxgirl, but she's just too irristable!

My vixen lets out a high-pitched moan, then immediately clamps down on it, embarassed. I whisper into her ear, "It's ok! The only one who can hear us is Ada. Don't hide your voice."

Liska takes one hand off my back and clenches the blanket in her fist, abandoning all modesty and panting and moaning as I drive myself to the hilt within her, over and over.

Ada reaches out and touches Liska's hand, and Liska turns her hand over, interlacing her fingers with Ada's.

"Whose Liska are you?"

"I'm- ha, ha, I'm y-yours!"

That's right, little foxgirl. You're mine. You're all mine.

"Whose Liska are you?"

"Mm! Ah, ah, I'm yo-our-ours!"

She's mine! Mine and mine alone! No one else's!

I'm fucking her as hard as I can now, banging the headboard against the wall as she gasps and moans; her vagina is clenching down on my penis now. Ugh! She's so tight!

I crush her in a bearhug, driving into her as hard as I can. It feels like my balls are about to implode.

"Whose Liska are you!"

"I'm yours! I'm yours I'm yours I'm yo-ur-ur ah, aaaAAAAAHHHH!"

Liska arches her back and digs her heels into my back, crying out as her tiny body is wracked by the intensity of her orgasm. Ada looks frightened.

I don't last more than a few seconds after she does, and I hilt myself within her and feel my entire body spasm as I come inside of her, over and over again, filling her little womb until I'm spent. I hold my weight off of her with my elbows and pant for breath, while her legs slowly slide off of me and to her sides, limp.

Oh shit. That was the best one yet.

I pull out and roll onto my back, Ada scrambling to get out of the way. She looks from Liska, to me, and back again, clearly frightened and confused.

"Are... are you allright?" she asks Liska, concerned.

Liska nods her head and gives her a weak smile, then lolls her head back to bask in the afterglow.

"Ada," I say, catching her attention. She looks at me and initially starts to shrink away, then remembers herself and stays put.

"Come here," I say gently, patting the bed next to me. She obeys immediately, still wide-eyed and nervous.

"Why don't you clean me up? I ask her. She starts to look for a towel or something, but I tug her down onto all fours, then gently press on her head. She realizes suddenly what my intent is and after the barest fraction of a second of resistance, allows my hand to lower her head to my crotch. She takes my shrinking penis into her mouth and bobs her head, sucking up all the semen and Liska's vaginal juices.

"Good girl," I say, stroking her hair.

She finishes quickly and I allow her to sit up, licking her lips with a slightly grossed out look on her face.

"That's not so bad, right?"

She nods slowly, as if deciding that that indeed isn't an unbearable chore for her.

Then I put one arm possessively around my little foxgirl and say, "Now clean Liska, please."

Ada crawls over and, after a brief pause to gather her courage, lowers her face down to Liska's hairless slit and begins licking it clean. Liska stirs, face turning red again, and I squeeze her shoulders to signal her to keep still. Ada starts to sit up, but then notices more of my semen oozing out of Liska's vagina and bends down to resume licking. After a bit, Liska places a hand on Ada's head and gently strokes her hair, causing Ada to look up at her 'big sister'.

"Ada's a good girl," I say.

Liska nods.

"Ada's a good girl," she whispers.

Ada finally decides she's done cleaning out Liska and sits up, and I motion for her to lie down with Liska between us. The two girls gather each other into a close embrace, Ada's small breasts squishing against Liska's even smaller breasts; Ada looks confused.

Liska whispers into her ear, "Thank you for making master happy," and closes her eyes with a contented sigh.

"Why don't we take a little nap before we eat breakfast?" I say. I'm a little tired now.

The cool breeze blowing into the room feels good on my naked body. I reach out to put my arms around both girls and lay my head down on the pillow.

I don't remember a genie granting me three wishes, but damn am I living out my deepest fantasy.

Chapter 10: Macska and Mushuk

We're rapidly catching up to the point I've stopped writing, so updates will start to slow down soon.

---

"Liska?" Ada whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Didn't that hurt?"

Liska opens her light blue eyes to look into Ada's darker blue eyes.

"No."

"It looked like it hurt."

"It doesn't hurt. Well, it hurt a little, the first time. But that's because Liska's sheath had never been filled up by a man before."

"Then why were you making those faces? And those sounds?"

Liska's cheeks glow slightly as she responds, "Because having master inside of Liska feels really good. The further inside Liska master tries to go, the more Liska feels... at one, with master."

"But it feels good?"

Liska nods.

"Liska never imagined it would feel so good."

"It looks scary," Ada says, unsure of herself.

"It was a little scary at first. But master wouldn't hurt Liska," she says, hugging Ada to her, "And master won't hurt Ada either."

The girls stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, then Liska asks, "Does Ada want master inside of her?"

Ada glances over at me, clearly afraid to say no, but says, "It's still a little scary. Ada's training didn't mention what sex was actually like."

I pat her side reassuringly.

"Don't worry; I'll wait until you're ready, Ada."

"Th-thank you, master."

Liska snuggles up to Ada, smiling softly as she says, "I told you he was a good master."

"But," I say, feeling myself rise to the occasion, "If you girls aren't going to let me nap with your talking, I'll have to find something else to occupy your mouths with."

Liska rolls to face me as I put my arms around her, and I kiss her on the lips. She kisses me back, still uncertain of what she's doing, then her eyes widen in surprise as my tongue presses against her lips and forces its way into her mouth. I invade her little mouth, tongue exploring as hers retreats from mine. I retract my tongue and then break our kiss. She blinks at me, clearly not understanding what a French kiss is.

"Now it's Ada's turn," I say.

Ada scoots closer and allows me to embrace her, and I kiss her on the lips as well. She doesn't respond; well, it's her first kiss, after all. Like Liska, my tongue invades her mouth and explores the inside, and after a moment of shock, Ada curiously probes my tongue with hers. After a bit of this, I retreat, and Ada follows my tongue into my mouth with hers. Ooh! My new slave isn't quite as timid as she seems!

I permit her to explore the inside of my mouth a bit, then break the kiss.

"Ok girls, now I want you to try that with each other."

They look at one another and blush, both giggling awkwardly. Then they throw their arms around each other and lock lips, wiggling their tongues around inside each other's mouths.

It's so adorably amateurish and hot at the same time.

"Whoooo-wee! Girls, that is great! C'mere!"

They break contact and fling themselves down to lay on either side of me, and I squeeze them both in a hug.

"You're good girls, you know that?" I kiss Liska on her forehead and tell her, "I like my little Liska," then I kiss Ada's forehead and say, "And I like my Ada."

Ada doesn't seem quite certain how to respond to that and settles for a little smile; Liska, on the other hand, is positively beaming. She flicks her tail around so it lays across my belly, gently twitching its black tip in contentment.

"Ada, do you know how to start a fire in the stove?"

She shakes her head, looking sheepish at not knowing the basics.

"That's ok. Do you think you can get the pans ready so Liska can cook breakfast?"

She nods, feeling useful again.

"I can set out the plates too!"

"There's a good girl," I say, patting her rear and watching her run to the door, unbolt it, and hurry down the stairs to do something useful. I hug Liska closer to me and ask, "So what do you think of your new little sister?"

I call her Liska's 'little sister', even though she's physically larger and a year older. When it comes to seniority in the ranks and worldly knowledge and experience, Liska is clearly the 'big sister' of the two. Having been an actual big sister before she was sold into slavery helps too.

"She's a good girl. She wants to please master, and not just because she's scared of being punished. She... really doesn't know anything, since she's a sex slave, but she'll learn."

"Do you think I should have gotten a different slave?"

Liska considers for a moment, then shakes her head, resting her cheek on my chest as she answers.

"No. Ada's a good girl, and I think she'll make master happy."

She stretches alongside me, then rests her hand on my chest as well. The tips of her ears are tickling my chin.

"And she's good for master's image. She's... damaged, but she's still a very pretty girl. Master will look good holding her leash."

Something about the way she said that... is Liska jealous? Or feeling self-conscious?

I kiss the top of her head and say, "Liska is a very pretty girl too. I'll look good holding onto your leash as well."

She smiles, and I immediately recognize that I hit the mark: yep, she's worried that Ada's looks will outshine hers. Maybe to the extent of becoming my new favorite.

There's no need to worry, little foxgirl: to be honest, even if some sadistic bastard hadn't scarred up Ada, you'd still be the prettier of the two. At least, according to my preferences.

I pat her on the rear, then say, "You should probably get downstairs and start breakfast before Ada breaks something."

Liska laughs; not her usual girlish giggle, but genuine laughter.

"Yes, master!" she says in a sing-song voice as she heads toward the door. She pauses at the door and sends a twitch down the length of her orange tail as she looks over her shoulder at me, then grins. Showing off the fact that she's still nude. Then she heads down the stairs.

I put on my boxers and t-shirt, then lean back in bed and relax. Ok. So the only thing I have to do today is head into town and buy another slave that can actually cook a proper meal and manage a 17th century household. And hopefully take care of a horse. Shit. I might need to buy two slaves, just to acquire the necessary skills to run a large household and everything that goes with it. Dammit, I don't want to end up running a plantation, and I don't need Liska leading my horde of slaves in a rendition of Old Man River!

Actually, I guess Liska would have the same role as Samuel L. Jackson in Django Unchained.

Well, whatever. I pause to scoot the bed a few inches away from the wall so the headboard doesn't hit it anymore, then head downstairs and pause to admire my girls as they work in the kitchen, still nude. Ada's pale figure and light brown hair look lovely, and Liska's long, red hair and orange tail contrast with her even paler skin. The two of them make a lovely image together. I was honest when I told the slave trader that Liska was the best purchase I'd ever made, but I'm really glad I bought both of them.

I sit at the table and Liska sets my plate in front of me, while Ada places her plate and Liska's where they'll be sitting. Then both girls assume their positions kneeling at the table, waiting for me to begin eating, and once I do they dig in with gusto.

It's plain oatmeal, a handful of blackberries, and another piece of that same sausage. Liska wasn't exaggerating when she said peasant's cooking was plain fare and below my standards. Still, it's a perfectly serviceable meal, and I pat her head and thank her for breakfast while she beams at me from her position on the floor.

Breakfast finished and the dishes put away and washed, Liska again kneels beside me and rests her cheek on my leg, and I reach down to stroke her hair. Ada joins her on my other side and I stroke her hair as well.

A full belly, a house of my own, and two naked, teenage girls at my feet, eager to please. Yeah. I definitely came out a winner in this world.

"Well," I say, "Shall we head into town and see about buying another slave?"

Both girls leap to their feet and follow me upstairs, where they help me slide my pants, socks, and shoes on. Liska laces my boots for me, while Ada just watches helplessly, having never even seen shoe laces before. Then the girls head to the wardrobe and Ada stands with her arms up, waiting for Liska to dress her, but Liska pauses as she holds the stained tunic in front of Ada and frowns at it.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"The clothes you bought Liska enhance her value as a slave, because a clean slave wearing nice clothes is clearly more valuable than one in ugly, dirty clothes. But... all we have for Ada to wear is this tunic."

"Ok?" I say, not quite understanding the problem. She'll get some nice clothes in a few more days, so the tunic is fine for now.

"If Ada wears this, she'll look like a low value slave. Master's image is only enhanced if he is accompanied by high value slaves. If master wants to look important, it would be better if Ada remained... naked," she says, blushing. Ada has no expression and simply stands there, waiting to hear a decision.

"Of course," Liska adds hurriedly, "I wouldn't want Ada to do something Liska wasn't willing to do too. A-and if master ordered Liska to... um..."

Despite reassuring me that she would be fine going nude in public, just so Ada wouldn't feel singled out, Liska is clearly not ok with it. Of course, she'd still do it if I told her to, but the fact she's volunteering so Ada wouldn't be the only doing it, in spite of her embarassment being seen naked in public, is endearing.

She really is a good girl.

"I think you should wear your dress, Liska," I tell her. She carefully keeps the relief off her face, but her tail and ears are as easy to read as a book. I think even Ada, who's only known her for a day, can tell.

"I don't mind, master," Ada says, appearing truly indifferent. "I never wore clothes before master allowed me to wear that tunic. If master wishes me to wear it, I will wear it. If master wishes for me to go naked, I will go naked. Master may do as he pleases; it will not bother me."

"Ok," I say, trying to buy myself time to think. Liska's focus on my public image says having her nude will make me look more like I'm flaunting wealth and power, but will having Ada wear that ratty old tunic and look less like a luxury slave really affect people's perception of me all that much? There was someone apparently trying to provoke me to see how I reacted the other day, but I only have Liska's word for that. For all I know, that really was just some asshole kid pulling her tail for shits and giggles, and that woman intervened on her own initiative. Actually, for that matter, all I have to go on is Liska's word. I don't know thing one about this place or its people, except what she tells me; how trustworthy is Liska as a source of information? Even if she's 100% honest and loyal, she could be filtering information to tell me what she thinks I want to hear, or her advice could be warped by her own bias. She did pretty effectively manipulate me into buying another slave, and she's not above telling me what I can and can't do, even if she simply informed me it 'wasn't proper' rather than telling me I was forbidden to do something. Even if Liska is doing it unintentionally, I could be receiving unreliable information.

And in any case, is parading Ada around naked really worth whatever possible improvement to my public image it may give me? So people think I'm a high-class dick who parades a girl around naked simply because I can; is that really going to improve what they think of me? Even if it does elevate my reputation, does that make it right to drag poor Ada around public in the nude?

"Ada," I say, as if suddenly thinking of something, "Before we leave, could you check to make sure the stove is cold? I don't want any embers possibly starting a fire."

"Yes, master!" she says as she turns and runs downstairs.

Turning to Liska, I ask her, "How important is it really that I do that? Will taking Ada out naked really make people think better of me, and will it have enough of an effect to be worthwhile?"

Liska's ears flatten out and tilt back, and her tail flicks nervously.

"I'm not sure how big an effect it will have on master's public image, but it would help. As for how important it is... it could be very important to how master is perceived. Because master is a foreigner, there could very well be people who feel threatened by him and intend to make a move unless master appears sufficiently powerful to warrant caution."

"But who would even know I exist?"

"Master is wearing clothing that clearly is not from around here; anyone who sees him knows he is a foreigner. Master's accent is very strange; every time he speaks, anyone who hears him knows he is a foreigner. Anyone master has interacted with could feel master may be a threat to them, or mention master to someone who may feel threatened. If master is a merchant looking to begin doing business, local businessmen may not want the competition. If master is a moneylender, bankers and lenders would feel threatened. Some would suspect master is a spy. The more respectable master appears to the upper classes, the less they will feel threatened by him. The more conspicuously master flaunts his wealth, the more powerful and dangerous he will appear to those who feel threatened, and they may keep their distance rather than seek to trouble him."

Liska steps up to me and places her hands on my chest, looking up into my eyes with a look of deep concern.

No. However reliable the things she tells me may or may not be, Liska is definitely loyal and doing her best to serve my interests.

"Master is very far from home. If master is very wealthy and powerful, his family will have the wealth and power to avenge him if any misfortune should befall him. But if master is simply a well-off commoner, like a merchant, whose family isn't sufficiently powerful enough to seek him out in another country, then... someone may decide to hurt master," she says with a quaver in her voice, clinging to my shirt and pressing her cheek against my chest. "Liska likes master. You're... very kind to me. I was afraid I would be in a much worse situation. Master rescued Liska from a bad fate. I'm grateful. I know you wouldn't hurt me. Or Ada. Liska is yours."

I hug my little foxgirl tenderly, bending to whisper into her ears.

"I like you very much, Liska. Every day, I'm very glad I have you. And for the record," I add, "I will never have you go out in public naked. You're my special girl. Liska's body is for her master's eyes alone."

She hugs me back, a shudder of relief coursing through her body. Of course, that still leaves a decision about Ada...

Speak of the devil, Ada trots back upstairs, dutifully informing me that the stove is indeed cold. I pat Liska on the back and tell her to get dressed.

"Ada, you really don't mind being nude in public again? I won't force you if you don't want to. If you would rather be clothed, say so; I won't be angry or disappointed. I would rather have you feel comfortable and safe than have you just do something because I told you to."

"I don't mind," she says again. "Ada has always been nude. Today will be no different."

"Allright," I say, decision made. "Go put on your sandals and wait by the door."

"Yes, master," she says, trotting off down the stairs again.

I wait for Liska to finish dressing, and she follows me down the stairs. Ada, wearing her collar and sandals and nothing else, is dutifully waiting by the door. Liska slips into her shoes, then turns so I can put the cloth restraint on her. Ada follows suit. Then both girls turn to face me again, chins raised, and I clip on their leashes.

"Ready? Nobody needs to use the bathroom before we go?"

Both girls shake their heads, and I step out to get that damn horse hooked up to the wagon so we can go into town and buy yet another slave.

It took nearly half an hour to get the horse herded from the corral into the barn, back it up to the wagon, and get it harnessed. I considered unrestraining the girls so they could help, but Ada would be completely useless and Liska doesn't have much to offer either. Eventually, of course, I do get the horse hooked up and the girls in the wagon, and away to the slave dealer we go.

The guard waves me through the gate to the compound, not even sparing a glance at Ada's exposed flesh. He probably sees so many attractive slave girls, nude or otherwise, that they're all the same to him by now.

The middle-aged slave woman answers the door again, informs me I can leave the girls leashed to the hooks by the door, and leads me into the little guest room before leaving to announce me.

The slave trader, whose name I have yet to catch, walks in, dressed as flamboyantly as usual.

"Ah, Lord Schulz! So good to see you again! The expected shipment of foreign slaves has indeed arrived on schedule, and I do believe we have just what you're looking for! Follow me, if you please."

I follow him down the absurdly long hallway to the same room as yesterday, but this time in addition to the low table in the center of the room, there's a couple of chairs and a coffee table near one wall, just like the waiting area.

"Refreshments are available. Wine, cheeses, grapes, crackers, please, help yourself."

"Thank you," I say, not approaching the snack tray on the coffee table. I'm still full from breakfast, and I don't really care for wine. Or beer, for that matter. Which isn't to say I'm a teetotaler, mind you; there is a hip flask of 12 year old scotch in my backpack, after all. I didn't pack it for my camping trip, it just habitually lives there. For, uh, medicinal purposes.

"Bring out the domestic slaves," he says, gesturing to the woman. She bows and hurries out of the room. Only seconds later, she returns, followed by eight or nine slaves. Clearly they were ready for me to come back as promised.

They're all women. Some of them look really roughed up. I immediately gravitate toward one poor woman near the end of the line.

She looks to be in her late 50's, maybe early 60's, with black hair going gray. She has one black cat ear; the other is a stub, scabbed over where someone recently cut it off. One eye is swollen shut where someone punched her, and she has a split lip from another punch. She has a black-and-white tail, like a tuxedo cat, but the tip has clearly been broken and is pointing at an awkward angle.

I feel sorry for her. Some of the other slaves I looked at while buying Liska and Ada were clearly abused, but this was excessive in comparison. She looks like someone's chubby grandma; what the hell would she ever do to deserve getting her face beaten in and her ear cut off?

"What's her story?" I ask.

"Recently captured. I'm afraid her poor condition is a bit out of our control; her country has been overrun by the Targs. She's one of a batch the Targs decided to sell to my representatives rather than keep for themselves. The Targs are not known for their... kindness, to those who fall into their clutches."

"I see. What's your name?" I ask her.

She stares at me, a lack of comprehension clear in her one visible brown eye.

"I'm afraid she only speaks Magyag and passable Cursci, my lord. I can have an interpreter brought in..."

"No need. I have a slave fluent in Cursci," I say.

"Ah yes, your little tutor. Shall I send for her?"

"Please."

The slave woman rushes off to fetch Liska, returning a minute later with her in tow. Liska is clearly unhappy to have someone else holding her leash, particularly in the place slaves like her are bought and sold, and is visibly relieved when she sees me. The woman passes her leash to me and I keep a very firm hold on it.

"She doesn't speak Hratchan," I say. "Could you ask her what her name is?"

Liska says something in gibberish, and the old cat lady replies as best she can with her split lip and swollen face.

"Her name is Macska, master, but she says most people in her village simply referred to her as Mama."

"What did she do before she was captured?"

I wait for Liska to translate my question into gibberish, have the old woman reply, and Liska translate it back to me.

"She ran an inn and was an alewife. She was responsible for the cooking and her daughters did the laundry and cleaning."

"Was the rest of her family captured?" I ask.

"Only her husband. Her daughters fled before the Targs reached their village, and her son died fighting the Targs several years ago."

"Her husband ran the inn?"

"No. Her husband ran the stable next to the inn."

"So he's experienced with horses?"

"Yes, master. She says he's an excellent farrier, and bought and sold horses on occasion."

I turn to the slave dealer and ask, "Is her husband among the slaves here?"

He waves at the slave woman like he's trying to ward off a bee, and she runs off down the hall and through one of the numerous, identical-looking doors. She returns with a slave in tow.

"This was the only catman in the shipment, master."

He's an older, heavyset man, also with black hair going gray and black cat ears. If he has a tail, it isn't visible under his tunic.

He's definitely the woman's husband. As soon as he sees her, he wails in horror, and she moans. Neither of them expected to ever see the other again, I gather, and he's clearly disturbed by the condition his wife is in.

I have Liska interrogate the catman and he is indeed her husband. He confirms that he ran a horse stable and is experienced in maintaining both the animals and their tack, wagons, etc. His name is also Mushuk, apparently.

"How much for the pair of them?" I ask.

"Three dozen tarls each," he replies.

That's three times what the old man who tried to rob me sold for. Apiece. Ada cost half a gold talos, and Liska three-fourths of a talos. Let's see, ten copper pennies make a silver tarl, ten silver tarls make a larger silver coin, the name of which I never caught, ten large silver coins make a small gold coin, ten small gold coins make a gold talos. So that's... 10,000 copper pennies to make a single gold talos. Three dozen tarls is 360 copper pennies. Ada, at half a talos, was 5,000 copper pennies, meaning Ada was valued at nearly fourteen times what either of these slaves is selling for. And Liska's price was even higher.

Considering female slaves in ancient Rome sold for around ten times as much as a male slave, that's not terribly far off the mark. And Ada was significantly discounted because of her scars, so she actually should have been even more expensive. Hell, Liska was originally offered at one full talos.

Man, the price difference between a pretty, teenage bedwarmer and an old cook and horse trader is steep.

"Sold," I say, withdrawing a gold coin from my pocket. I need to make change anyway. Some places, like the grocer Liska has been shopping at, can't accept gold because they don't have enough silver on hand to make change.

"I'll have the paperwork arranged. In the meantime, I'll have your slave and your new purchases escorted to the front."

He seems to have something in mind, but I don't know what. The woman takes Liska's leash back from me, then clicks her tongue at the old couple I just bought and gestures for them to follow her.

Once they're out of the room and the other slaves for sale have been dismissed, the slave trader gestures to the refreshments table and asks me to have a seat. I comply, wary; this guy has steered me into the most expensive option twice, and walked away as soon as the deal was made both times. I just bought two cheap slaves and he's sitting down with me while we wait for the paperwork.

He's either about to try selling me a Ferrarri, or a Yugo made up to look like a Ferrarri.

"So! Speaking of your little tutor, how are you liking her?"

"Well, as I said yesterday, I've very pleased with my purchase," I said, suspiciously.

"Wonderful, wonderful. No problems?"

"Nothing serious," I say carefully.

"Splendid. You know, the girl you bought yesterday is, or was at least, quite a looker, and so is your first slave there. You clearly have a taste for the... finer, things in life."

Here it comes.

"Are you perhaps in the market for acquiring another vixen?"

Another... foxgirl?

"I have exactly one, she came with the shipment from the east this morning. It's not very often I have a vixen in my inventory, and almost unheard of for me to have two pass through my hands in the same month."

I'm pretty content with Liska and Ada, the second of whom I haven't even broken in yet. I'm not even sure what I'd do with a third sex slave, which is clearly where he's going with this. But I am curious...

"I wouldn't mind having a look," I say, trying to sound noncommittal.

He grins, and as soon as the slave woman returns with the papers for me to sign, he gives her a gesture and she bows and opens the door to another room.

I look up from where I'm signing the deed of ownership and... oh my.

I stand up to admire her more closely.

It's indeed another foxgirl like Liska, presented to me in the nude. But where Liska has red hair coming midway down her back, this one has blonde hair reaching all the way down to her butt. Liska's tail and ears are orange with black tips; this girl's tail and ears are a yellowish-tan color, with white tips.

She's roughly the same height as Liska, with a very similar build. Slender, delicate, small breasted, and as Liska said, completely hairless except for her head and tail. She's also openly weeping, spoiling her pretty face somewhat.

She's definitely a Ferrarri.

I want her. I want her badly. I already have the redhead and brunette, I need a blonde to complete the collection. And two foxgirls...

"How old are you?" I ask.

The slave dealer gives me an apologetic look and says, "I'm terribly my lord, she only speaks Cursci. She is, of course, to be trained as a sex slave and taught Hratchan so she may take orders from her master directly. It will take some time for her to finish her training, but I would be more than happy to reserve her for you until she's ready."

Uh-huh.

"How much?"

"To reserve her, one tal," he says. That must be the smaller gold coin. "Her full sale price is two talos."

"Ada was only half a talos, and she was a sex slave," I comment.

"A sex slave we significantly discounted, my lord, due to the damage to her looks. And had to sell as a domestic slave since she simply wouldn't sell as a sex slave anymore."

Good retort. I return fire.

"My vixen is pretty enough, she would have been sold as a sex slave if she weren't able to read and write in Cursci and Hratchan and subsequently been trained as a tutor. She was only three-fourths of a talos."

"A discount, for a new customer," he says politely.

"Hmm. This girl is very pretty, but Liska is just as pretty, and educated to boot. I'm not sure if I really need two vixens..."

"All prices are, of course, negotiable, my lord."

"Hmmm. A virgin?"

"Of course."

"One talos," I say, half his asking price. Which I'm sure is the price he was actually shooting for in the first place.

He considers for a moment, then says, "I think that is a fair price for such a slave. I'll take the tal now to reserve her for you, and I will contact you once she is ready."

"How long will that take?" I ask.

"It depends on whether she's a quick learner," he says, grinning. "Usually no more than a few months. She comes from a region where many people speak a dialect related to Hratchan, so she may already be familiar with some or most of the grammar. Besides that, there's only the obedience training."

"I see. Very well then." I hand him the appropriate coin and tell him where to find me when the girl is ready for sale.

"A pleasure doing business with you, as always, my lord," he says. The slave woman leads the crying foxgirl, who immediately covers her breasts with her arms and her genitals with her tail as soon as she's no longer on display, out of the room.

I've reserved her. She's mine. Or will be, as soon as she finishes her training. Excellent.

There is no fucking way I'm ever telling Liska I paid more for another girl than I did for her. Ever.

I return to the front, where my two girls are waiting patiently, still leashed to their hooks by the door. The older couple of cat people are also there; Mama Cat is wearing cloth restraints like the girls, but Poppa Cat is in shackles. Both have leashes.

"Take those off," I say. The slave woman, who just finished shackling my new property, looks at me in surprise.

"I need him to drive the wagon," I explain. She nods, then removes the shackles and hands them to me.

Gathering all four leashes in my hand, I lead my quartet of human property outside to the wagon. I remove the leashes from my newest acquisitions, along with Momma Cat's restraints, leaving only my girls leashed and restrained, and everyone gets into the wagon.

"Liska, tell him to drive the wagon to the seamstress."

"Yes, master."

We head over, Liska giving directions the whole way, and I take my four slaves inside. The seamstress updates me on Ada's clothing: one more day, rather than the expected three. One customer canceled her order, and another said she wouldn't be able to take delivery for a month because she was going to visit family, so she was able to bump my order up.

"Good, good. I'd like to order some clothing for her as well. A similar cut to the dresses I ordered for Liska and Ada, but I want the dress to be longer. Make it black, and instead of the half-apron, make it a full apron. And socks, rather than stockings, please. Several pair."

"Very good, my lord. Let me get her measurements."

She clucks sympathetically at Momma Cat and makes soothing sounds the entire time she's getting her measurements.

"Was there anything else, my lord?"

"I don't suppose you do men's clothing?"

I haven't seen any in here, but it's worth asking.

"No, my lord. The tailor is across the street though."

"Thank you."

We head across the street, where a thin young man approaches. I tell him I'm ordering clothes for my slave and myself, and he immediately snaps his fingers.

As if by magic, a girl wearing a nice orange pinstripe dress, a full length green apron with the first example of pockets I've seen on female clothing, and a slave collar appears at his elbow. He takes Poppa Cat's measurements, and the girl writes everything he says down with a notebook and pencil she pulled out of her apron's pockets.

"And what sort of clothing were you looking to acquire for your slave, my lord?"

"Practical workman's clothes. Black and white."

He shows me a drawing of a man in pants, a shirt, and a sleeveless vest, with an optional jacket. I agree to the outfit, and he includes a leather belt.

Next, he takes my measurements, the slave girl attentively taking notes all the while, and asks what sort of clothes I want for myself.

"Something worthy of a lord," Liska comments.

He nods, not taking notice of a slave speaking up, and shows me a few different designs. I make a few suggestions for modifying one, the girl sketching it all out in her notebook, and I'm satisfied with the results.

"Three days for your new outfit, my lord, but you can take your slave's clothes home now. I have a set in his size already; I just need to modify the back of the pants to accomodate his tail. A moment, please."

He pats the girl on her rear and she smiles over her shoulder at him, preceding him into the back of the shop. They may be master and slave, but they're clearly fond of one another. I guess my relationship with Liska isn't entirely unique.

About twenty minutes later, he emerges, and asks Poppa Cat to change into his new clothes so he can see how they fit. Unlike the seamstress, he has a small changing room. Poppa Cat goes in, then comes out, dressed in his new work attire. It's a good look on him, I must say. There's only a stub of a tail sticking out of his pants though; someone apparently cut it off.

"That looks good," I say. I pay for the workman's outfit, and next we're off to the cobbler.

Mary janes for Momma Cat, work boots for Poppa Cat, and a dirty look for the cobbler as he drools over Ada's body again. Then again, I guess it is kind of my fault for bringing a naked girl here in the first place. But I'm not sure yet if I can trust her in the house all by herself, and I'm not going to leave her restrained and leashed to a hook on the wall just in case something happens, like a house fire. Having her make sure the wood burning stove was cold before we left wasn't simply an excuse to get her out of earshot while I talked with Liska.

While waiting for the shoes to be made, I got both the catpeople sandals to wear in the meantime.

"Now to the furniture store," I announce. Liska gives me an odd look, but relays my order without questioning it. I order another bed, a kitchen table, two chairs, and some more lamps, candles, and oil and arrange for them to be delivered.

"Ok, let's head home now," I say, now that the furniture is all loaded up and ready to follow us out to the house. Liska sits between Mushuk, or Poppa Cat as I think of him, and I, and gives him directions to the house, while Momma Cat sits in the back of the wagon with Ada.

Once we arrive, I have the delivery men unload the furniture into the guest house, pay them a nice tip, and then watch Mushuk expertly park my own wagon, unharness the horse, and tend to it. Then I bring all four slaves inside.

Liska and Ada's leashes go on the hook by the door, keeping them in place.

"Mushuk, stand over there. Mom- Macska, sit at the table."

Liska translates and they comply, looking around warily. I tell them to stay put, then quickly head upstairs, dig around in my first aid kit, and return downstairs. Filling a tin cup from the kitchen pump, I give Momma Cat a couple of ibuprofin to help with the pain and swelling, apply antibiotic ointment to her ear and split lip, and splint her tail. She and Mushuk seem genuinely surprised, either by the fact that I'm giving her first aid at all, or that I'm doing it myself. I put a dab of antibiotic ointment on Mushuk's finger and have him rub it into the scabbed over wound where his tail got chopped off; yeah, I'm not touching another man's tail, even to give medical treatment.

Leaving Ada leashed to the hook, I take Liska's leash so she can translate for me and lead the pair of older cat people to the guest house.

"This is where they'll live."

They're again surprised; they expected to be housed either in the windowless shed the realtor explicitly pointed out as slave housing, or in a little closet like the one Ada expected to sleep in. Liska goes on a long rant in gibberish and they look at each other.

"What did you say?"

"I told them master is a kind man who takes care of what he owns. More or less."

"Ok," I say, "Time for the ground rules."

I have to pause after every sentence for Liska to translate, and she sometimes has to repeat something or change how it's worded because the cats apparently speak Magyag as their native tongue, which Liska doesn't know, and picked up Cursci from various customers at their inn and don't have a perfect grasp of the language.

"The two of you live here. You're responsible for cleaning and maintaining it. I'm given to understand that marriages are considered legally dissolved when one or both of you are enslaved. As far as I'm concerned, that's bullshit. You're still husband and wife, and I will respect that. Macska, your job is to cook in the big house, and help the girls clean it when needed. I'm told slaves are often underfed or denied food; here, everyone eats as much as they want. You'll cook as much food as it takes to feed me, the girls, yourself, and your husband. Mushuk, you're not allowed in the big house unless you're summoned by me. Your job is to tend to the horse, maintain the grounds on the property, do any repairwork that the house needs, and drive the wagon when we need to go into town."

They still seem shocked by my generosity as a slave owner. The biggest shock is still to come.

"Liska, how much does someone running a stable usually earn in a day?"

"About three or four tarls."

And six tarls buys two meals a day for a week, in an upscale inn like the one I stayed at. This tells me a couple of things: first, you need a lot of customers to earn decent money running an inn, and second, I must be rich as fuck now. I mean, I bought a country mansion, a couple of high-end slave girls, a couple more slaves... Wow. I'm wealthier than I realized. If I'm frugal, I may be able to live out the rest of my life just by selling off my aluminum coins and never working again.

Unless I die of the plague next week. That's always an option.

"Mushuk, I'm going to give you an allowance of one tarl a day. Spend it however you like. Buy clothes, buy tools, furniture, luxury items, I don't care. I paid 36 tarls for you, and another 36 tarls for your wife. If you manage to save up enough money, I'll allow you to buy your freedom from me and I'll sign the documents myself."

Their jaws drop open in shock. Even Liska has trouble believing it.

"If you do free yourselves, then we can negotiate wages if you intend to still work for me. Macska, are you feeling any better now?"

Her answer sounds less slurred than before, and Liska reports that her pain is greatly reduced now.

"Good. If it starts to hurt too much, let me know and I'll give you some more medicine. Go ahead and start working on lunch now. Mushuk, I trust you can find work to do without me watching you the entire time?"

He flicks his ears and nods. Momma Cat heads into the house and starts bustling around the kitchen, while Mushuk arranges furniture in the guest house that he and his wife will now be living in. I remove my girls' leashes and restraints and bring them both upstairs.

"That... was very generous of you, master."

"Mmm."

Ada has no idea what Liska is talking about, and I'm hoping she doesn't bring it up in detail. I'm perfectly fine with the cat couple eventually freeing themselves, as long as I get what I want out of the arrangement, but I have absolutely no intention of ever letting Ada or especially Liska go. They're mine. Forever. And I don't need them getting any ideas.

I change the subject immediately.

"I had the slave trader put a slave on reserve for me."

"Another girl?" Liska asks neutrally.

Yep. She's jealous. Or worried that it might reduce her status in my household/harem. Don't worry, Liska; you'll always be number one to me.

"Yes. She has to learn Hratchan, and apparently there's obedience training as well. What, uh, what exactly does that entail?"

"Beatings, mostly," Liska replies matter-of-factly. Ada nods.

I must have made a face or something, because Liska says, "It's an unfortunate necessity, master. She must learn discipline and obedience, or she would be rebellious against master. She might run away, refuse an order, or even physically assault master. If she takes to her obedience training, then master can be as lenient with her as he is with us. It will also give her some... perspective, on master."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Master is a very kind person. He takes care of what he owns, he's generous, he cares for his slaves' wellbeing, and he doesn't hurt them. If she knows how other slave owners would treat her, she will be much more grateful for master's kind treatment. Otherwise she may assume master is weak and can be taken advantage of."

"I see."

"It's for the best," Liska says. Ada nods again.

"I assume you went through the same obedience training?" I ask. Liska nods, ears swiveling to the sides and tail drooping as she evidently recalls things she'd rather not remember. I place one hand on her shoulder and can feel her trembling; the idea of someone hurting my Liska, beating her black and blue, just to teach her compliance with orders, enrages me. Hell, look what happened to Ada!

Liska hugs me, quietly speaking into my chest, "Liska is ok now. No one is hurting Liska."

I hug her back, then gesture for Ada to come closer, and hug both my girls together.

No one is going to hurt either of you ever again. Not if I can help it.

Spankings don't count. Shut up.

Liska and Ada help me remove my boots, then I cuddle both my girls on the bed while delicious smells slowly fill the house.

Liska, the tips of her ears tickling the underside of my chin as she rests her head on my chest, quietly says, "Thank you for making Liska feel safe, master."

Ada, resting her head on my chest with the tip of her nose mere inches away from Liska's, also quietly adds, "Ada feels safe with master too. Thank you."

I hug them both tighter to me, and bend my head down to kiss the top of first Ada's head, then Liska's. Ada looks up at me with soft, trusting eyes and says, "I think Ada is ready for master to make use of her."

Liska leans over me to hug Ada happily, and I kiss both my girls, on the lips this time, and say, "I think I'll like that. Tonight though."

Both girls nod and snuggle up against me, relaxed.

Then Momma Cat hollers from downstairs and Liska perks up, ears twitching back and forth, saying, "Lunch is ready!"

"I gathered," I say dryly.

My girls follow me down the stairs, and I seat myself at the table. Liska serves me my food, and Ada sets out her plate and Liska's. Momma cat keeps looking at Ada sympathetically, and I realize it's because Ada is nude. She thinks it must be embarassing or uncomfortable for her. Both girls kneel at the table, hands folded in their laps, and patiently wait for me to signal them to eat.

"Liska, tell her she and her husband can eat now too."

Liska relays my message, and Momma Cat bows, says something else in gibberish, and continues to work in the kitchen.

"She says she'll bring him his lunch soon, but she has to get dinner started now so it has time to cook."

I nod, and dig into my lunch with gusto. Both girls dive in as soon as I do.

Lunch is chicken and dumplings, with a side of bread. It's delicious. She actually found the seasonings I bought and knew how to use them. I'm not sure Liska even knows what seasonings are. Ada sure as hell doesn't.

Both girls scarf their meals down, then sit back on their heels licking their lips. I eat it pretty quickly too, to be honest. Her cooking is even better than the inn's. Well worth the money, I say!

I lean back in my chair. Ada gathers the girls' plates and Liska gathers mine, taking them to the sink. Momma Cat stops them as they start to wash the dishes, shooing them away gently, and sets them aside with the pot she cooked the food in. I guess she intends to take care of dishes too.

The girls come back to kneel beside me, and I pat my thigh, signaling Liska to rest her head there. She closes her eyes with a contented smile as I gently stroke her hair, then pat my other thigh. Ada also rests her head on my leg, allowing me to stroke her hair as well. Momma Cat steals a glance at us, and her look seems to soften when she sees me petting my girls. She continues to bustle about in the kitchen for several more minutes, then says something in gibberish. Liska sits up and translates.

"She's going to take lunch to her husband and they're going to eat together in the guest house, master. When they're done, she'll return to wash dishes and continue with dinner."

"That's fine."

Momma Cat bows, then makes her exit with two plates and half a loaf of bread.

"You girls head upstairs. I'll join you in a minute."

They comply immediately, and I stand by the window and watch as Momma Cat calls her husband over to the guest house. He hurries over from the stable and follows her inside. I can't see them through the windows of the guest house, but presumably they're eating now.

I head upstairs, pausing just below the creaky top step when I hear the girls talking. Maybe I can eavesdrop...

"Doesn't master patting your head make you feel like he's treating you like a child?" I hear Ada ask.

"I don't mind," Liska replies. "It's master's way of showing affection. I like it when master pats Liska's head. It means master is happy."

"True," says Ada. "It does feel more like he means it when he tells us we're being good if he pats us on the head. I don't mind either. But... I don't know about foxkin, but some of the other girls being trained as sex slaves were catgirls and other beastkin. They all seemed to think ear scratching was something you only did to a child."

"Mm-hm. It's the same with foxkin. But as I said, I don't mind if master does it. It's how he shows affection. It really does feel very good too!" she says with a laugh. Ada giggles too. "Sometimes my father would scratch my mother's ears, but only when he thought no one was looking."

"And besides," Liska continues, "I don't mind if master sometimes treats Liska like a child. Or a pet, even. I like it."

"Really?"

"Master is a very large man. He can overpower and do whatever he wants to Liska easily. But he doesn't hurt Liska. He just wants Liska to be entirely his. I feel... small, next to him. But it doesn't scare me. Liska likes feeling like a child in master's arms. I'm safe there. I like belonging to master. I like it when he holds Liska's leash. I like it when he restrains Liska's arms. Even when he squishes Liska when he makes use of her on the bed, or when he's a little rough, I'm not scared. Liska is his, and master takes good care of what he owns. I like being his. I like being his little Liska."

I... feel like I just discovered Liska's hidden kink. I think she may have just discovered it too. Or at least, just put it into words.

Does my little foxgirl like being dominated by her big, strong master?

Iiiiinteresting.

I step on the creaky stair and the girls immediately shut up when they hear me coming.

Stepping into the bedroom, I say, "Ada, why don't you run downstairs and sweep by the front door and kitchen?"

"Yes, master."

As soon as she's out of the room, I shut and bolt the door. Then I stand in front of Liska as she looks up at me, curious about my next move. I reach up and scratch her ear, eliciting a smile. Then I sit on the edge of the bed and pat my lap, and she obediently perches herself there, curling her tail around into her lap.

I reach up and scratch both of her ears. She practically purrs, melting into my arms and luxuriating in the feeling.

"You like it when your master scratches your ears?"

"Mm-hm."

"Even if it's a little... childish?"

Her eyes open and her cheeks tinge red as she realizes I heard her conversation with Ada.

"You like being my little Liska?"

"Mm-hm."

"You like it when your master... is bigger and stronger than you?"

She looks at me, wide-eyed, and slowly nods.

"Get on the bed."

She immediately complies, kicking her shoes off and laying on the bed. I pull my pants off and climb on top of her, lifting her dress and her legs to grant me access. Her not wearing underwear is actually pretty convenient.

She starts to put her arms around me, but I stop her. I fold her arms so they're on either side of her, palms flat against my chest, then I wrap her in my arms, pinning hers in place uselessly.

"Can you move?"

Her arms and legs twitch beneath me, then she shakes her head.

"You're helpless?"

She nods.

"Master can do anything he wants to you, and there's nothing you can do to stop him. Right?"

She nods.

"Are you scared?"

She shakes her head. Her ears are upright, not looking uncomfortable.

"Master won't hurt Liska."

"That's right. I won't hurt you. Because you're my Liska. I own you, forever."

She shudders as I penetrate her, then whispers, "I'm yours!"

"You like it even when master is rough with you?"

She nods, biting her lip.

I proceed to bang the shit out of my little foxgirl. Helpless beneath me, she can do nothing but pant and moan, and when she gets too loud I put one hand over her mouth to muffle her voice so they don't hear her downstairs, and keep fucking her as hard as I can.

Moving the bed so the headboard didn't hit the wall anymore was a good choice.

Liska clenches her hands into fists against my chest, her ears fold to the sides, and she squeezes her eyes shut. I can feel her vagina getting tighter around me. Is she already about to-?

She does. My little foxgirl has an orgasm. I continue to fuck her hard all the way through it, and once it's over her eyes widen as she realizes I'm not stopping any time soon.

That's right, Liska. Master isn't done using you yet.

I take my hand off of Liska's mouth and she pants for breath beneath me, getting her second wind.

"Whose Liska are you?"

"I'm yours!" she gasps.

I drive myself into her as hard as I can, again and again, and she makes muffled squeaks, biting her lip, then gasps out, "I'm yours, master! I'm all yours!"

I can feel myself nearing the brink. Liska seems to be getting close again too, judging from how she's about to hyperventilate.

"You're all mine!" I growl into her pointy ears.

Liska's face suddenly looks like she's having a stroke, her vagina pulsating around my dick, and she stops breathing for a second, arching her back beneath me. My little fox has come twice now.

That's enough to push me over the edge, I drive into her as a deep as I can and empty myself into her womb over and over again, erupting in ecstasy. My gosh, it's full of stars!

Panting for breath, I collapse atop Liska, both of us breathing heavily. After a moment, I hold my weight up so I'm not crushing her, and I pull out.

Laying beside her, I look at my pretty foxgirl. She's staring at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of two orgasms. She's pretty sweaty now; I think she's going to have to wash her dress now.

I pull my pants back on, then open the bedroom door.

"Ada!"

My other slave girl trots over to the base of the stairs, holding the broom.

"Yes, master?"

"Come up here, please."

She leans the broom against the wall and comes up the stairs, bare feet slapping on each step as she hurries to comply. She and Liska sure do run a lot when I call them; I guess that was part of their obedience training.

I guide her into the bedroom, where Liska is still laying on the bed. She looks up as I shut the door behind me.

"Ada, could you be a good girl and help Liska clean up?"

Ada nods, climbing onto the bed. Liska's face turns red, but she dutifully spreads her legs to grant Ada access. Ada, now on all fours, pauses to gather her courage, blushing just as spectacularly as Liska, then bends over and begins licking Liska's hairless slit clean.

"Good girl," I tell her, sitting on the bed beside them and gently stroking Ada's hair.

Ada finishes with a slurp, then sits up, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. Liska closes her legs and pulls her dress down.

"Now, did that feel dirty?" I ask in what I hope is an encouraging manner.

Both girls nod.

Dammit. Well, baby steps.

I hug Ada and kiss her forehead, then I sit Liska up for a hug and plant a kiss on her sweaty forehead.

"Liska, why don't you clean your dress? Ada can help you and learn."

Liska nods and hops off the bed, Ada following her down the stairs to the bathroom.

I lean back on the bed, enjoying the cool breeze through the window and the delicious smells from downstairs, and relax.

Damn, this room smells like sex.

Chapter 11: Bath

Wherein Liska and Ada are good girls.

---

I spend the rest of the day lounging around. Liska shows Ada how to do laundry, cleaning her dress, blouse, apron, and stockings, then hanging them to dry. Then the girls returned upstairs.

"Master? Would you like us to do anything else?" Liska asks.

"No, I said today was a do nothing day, so let's just relax for the rest of the day."

Liska nods, accustomed to having little to do while we stayed at the inn. Ada, on the other hand, doesn't seem to know what to do with herself.

"Master? May Liska wear the tunic until the dress is dry?"

She curls her tail around herself shyly; ah, she doesn't want Momma Cat seeing her run around the house naked like Ada.

"Maybe later. For now, why don't you girls climb into bed and I'll let you listen to some music."

Liska literally leaps across the room onto the bed with a barely audible POMF, then dives under the blanket excitedly. Ada follows at a more reasonable pace, climbing into bed beside her. Liska's tail, poofed up in excitement, lays between them.

"Music?"

Liska nods, her ears perked up in anticipation.

"Master has such wonderful things from his homeland! One is a little box that plays music."

"Oh, a music box? I've seen one of those before."

Liska shakes her head.

"No, not a music box! You don't need a key to wind it, and it plays more than one song. You can even hear people sing!"

Ada looks skeptical.

I pick up my Zune and pass the earbuds to the girls. Liska crams one into her ear and holds it in place, then helps Ada insert the other in her ear.

"They fit human ears better than mine," she comments as she shows Ada that she doesn't have to hold it in place. Ada looks thoroughly mystified.

And then ELO's Twilight bursts into their ears. Liska has an expression of pure, childish delight on her face, and Ada's jaw drops.

I adjust the playlist, selecting Boston's More Than A Feeling and Queen's Don't Stop Me Now as the next songs.

It isn't long before both girls are nodding their heads and bouncing their feet to the music. I grin as I watch them, then lay down and put my arm across both their shoulders, relaxing.

No work. No bills. My own house. Plenty of money and more on the way. And two naked, teenage girls sitting in bed with me. I know it's getting repetetive, but I really feel like this is paradise.

So when is the other shoe going to drop?

My life is never this easy, and I selected a world roughly analogous to Europe in the early 1600's. Some bad shit is going down. I've already heard about the 'Targs' twice, the second time just this morning when it was mentioned that Momma and Poppa Cat's homeland was overrun by them. And if this place is roughly the same as the Holy Roman Empire, when does the Thirty Years War break out?

Suddenly, I hug the girls tighter as I no longer feel quite so comfortable. Neither of them notice, totally entranced by the music.

How long is this going to last?

The playlist ends and I shut the Zune off, Liska passing me the earbuds.

"Thank you, master!"

"Thank you, master. That was... incredible."

"You're welcome. You've both been good girls today, so I don't mind letting you listen to my music."

Liska leans over, twitching her ears with a stern expression on her face, and whispers into Ada's ear, "Don't touch his music or go in his backpack without his permission, or you'll get a spanking."

Ada nods, taking the warning seriously.

Then she looks over at the nightstand with a curious expression.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"These squiggly marks are words, right?"

I sit up enough to see that she's pointing at the cover of one of my two books on the nightstand.

"That's right."

She looks uncomfortable, but forges ahead.

"Would... would it be ok if Liska told me what the words say?"

Liska bats her ears sheepishly.

"I don't know how to read that."

"Really? But you can... read, the words on the bags and boxes downstairs."

"Those are all written in Cursci or Hratchan. This is written in..."

"English," I provide the answer for her.

"Liska can't read English?"

Liska shakes her head.

"Would you girls like to hear a story?"

They both nod.

I scoop Liska up in my arms and deposit her on my other side, then turn to Ada.

"Pass the book here."

Ada carefully passes it to me, and I open it up, flipping past the copyright page and the map, to the first page of the story.

"Chapter one, An Unexpected Party. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

My girls snuggle up to me on either side and, despite Liska not being able to read English and Ada being entirely illiterate, they're both looking at the page intently. I decide to point at each word with my finger as I read it; it'll help Ada learn about writing, and maybe Liska can even pick up some English that way. Assuming whatever magic makes it possible for me to understand Hratchan as English and people here understand English as Hratchan makes that possible. The two languages are probably nothing alike, and the words might sound completely different, which I can't notice because it just sounds like English to me. For all I know, you pronounce 'and' as 'hurf'. If the word I'm saying sounds nothing like how the English word is pronounced, that's going to make it much harder for Liska to learn to read any English. And I can't tell her how to pronounce an English word, because it automatically gets translated into Hratchan. Maybe I can sound it out for her.

The trolls have just been defeated when Momma Cat hollers from downstairs and Liska perks her ears up.

"Dinner's ready, master."

"Ok girls, I guess it's time to eat."

Ada climbs out of bed, then shyly rubs one foot on top of the other and asks, "Master? Could you please read more of that story to us later?"

Liska nods enthusiastically.

"Sure, as long you're good girls."

"Thank you, master!" they reply in stereo.

"Um, master...?"

Liska is standing by the wardrobe, tail tucked between her legs. Ah, right.

"Go ahead and put your tunic on."

"Yes, master."

She pulls it over her head, feeling relieved to have some form of clothing on before going back downstairs where Momma Cat can see her, and both girls follow me down the stairs.

I sit at the table, and Momma Cat gently but firmly swats Liska's hands when she tries to serve the food. Both girls kneel at the table in their usual places, and Momma Cat sets dinner in front of each of us.

Is that-? It is!

Chicken pot pie. She baked each of us an individual chicken pot pie. Mine is slightly larger than the one she set in front of the girls. I told her everyone got the same amount of food, but I'm not going to say anything. I'm a big guy, and in spite of their perpetually hungry natures, both the girls are on the small side. That's probably as much food as they can handle.

I pause for a moment as I savor the delicious smell. This had to have involved a lot of work. Making the gravy and the vegetable stew that goes inside of the pie, then baking them all. It's not like in a modern kitchen where you can just microwave a frozen pot pie from the store, or set the oven to a specific temperature and then ignore it until a timer goes off. To bake something like this, you have to keep feeding wood into the fire, watch the oven constantly to ensure it maintains a steady, even temperature, and make the entire pie from scratch. Too hot and you'll burn the pie, especially the bottom. Not hot enough and it'll never bake properly all the way through. And she made individual pies, of differing sizes, which would have different cooking times. No wonder she spent all afternoon working on dinner. That's a lot of work.

"Thank you," I tell her. Liska is literally drooling over hers, and it takes her a moment to realize I said something to Momma Cat that needed translation. Momma Cat bows, then backs up to the stove, watching us. She still has a nasty black eye, but it's a lot less swollen than it was this morning.

I cut through the crust of my pie and begin eating, and both the girls immediately follow suit. And then they both burn their tongues, prompting Momma Cat to scold them in gibberish. Liska ducks her head and flattens her ears, reprimanded, and whispers, "Slow down," to Ada. They both take their time eating after that, blowing on each bite before sticking it in their mouths.

Delicious. Absolutely delicious.

"This is very good," I say. Liska enthusiastically translates, tail wagging. Ada ignores both of us and continues spooning pot pie into her mouth as fast as she can blow on it to cool it down.

Momma Cat watches us eat the entire time, then when Liska moves to take my plate she makes a hissing sound and says something in gibberish. Liska, looking slightly unsure, passes my plate to Ada and sits back down. Ada takes all three plates to the kitchen sink without comment.

"What did she say?" I ask.

Liska leans over, speaking quietly so Ada doesn't overhear, and replies, "She said the favorite girl should stay with her master and let the subordinate do the work."

Looking at me, Liska seems to suddenly realize she was taking orders from Momma Cat and not her master, and anxiously asks, "Was that ok?"

I nod. Let Momma Cat run her kitchen her way.

I ponder how Momma knows Liska is the favorite. Is my bias that obvious? Is it because Ada hasn't worn a stitch of clothing the entire time she's known her, but Liska has a nice outfit and a cheap tunic to wear while said nice outfit is drying from the wash? Or did Liska and I make too much noise upstairs? Whatever the case, Momma Cat catches on quick.

Dishes deposited, Ada is then shooed back to the table by Momma Cat, who follows with three more plates to set in front of us. What's this? Is there going to be dessert?

There is. Momma Cat deposits a large pie on the table, slices it, and places a slice on each plate. I got the biggest slice, naturally.

Liska is drooling again, and Ada is peering at her slice curiously.

It's apple pie. Freshly baked apple pie.

Even if I had paid as much as I did for Ada, Momma Cat would have been worth it. She nods politely to me when I grin at her, then smiles as much as her split lip allows when the girls make happy noises over their pie.

Whoo-wee. I am stuffed. My belly is full of delicious food. Ada again gathers the plates and deposits them in the sink, while Liska leans against my leg and happily accepts an ear scratching. Momma Cat and Ada make short work of the dishes; neither of them can speak a word of the other's language, but Momma is clearly able to communicate what she wants by gesturing or reaching over and moving Ada's hands when she doesn't scrub the plates to Momma's satisfaction.

Then Momma Cat has Ada help her scoop out all the ashes from the stove into a box, and dump it outside next to a bush. Ada starts to come back inside, then stops at another HSSST! from Momma, who points at her feet: they're covered in ashes. So is Ada in general; she didn't take much care when she dumped them out. Liska hops to her feet and fetches the broom, sweeping off Ada's feet before she steps back inside, then sweeping the floor behind her as she deposits the box near the stove.

Satisfied, Momma Cat then has Ada watch while she refills the stove with firewood, showing her how to properly stack kindling so the fire will be easy to start in the morning. Then, task done, Momma picks up another pair of chicken pot pies and makes an announcement in gibberish.

"Unless master needs something more from her, she's going to retire to the guest house for the evening."

"No, I'm good. Tell her the door will be locked, so she needs to ring the bell for someone to let her in in the morning."

Liska translates, and Momma Cat gives another slight bow before walking toward the door.

"Aren't you going to have some apple pie too?" I ask.

Liska translates, and Momma looks mildly surprised, then gives me another bow. She sets the pot pies, which I notice are the same size as the one I ate, on the table and retrieves a plate, upon which she places two small slices of apple pie for her and her husband. I also hand her another ibuprofin before she goes and instruct her on how to take it. Loaded down with dinner and dessert, she takes her leave and retreats to the guest house, yowling for her husband. Mushuk comes over from where he was apparently splitting firewood, takes one of the plates to lighten her burden a little, and follows her into the guest house.

I shut the door, shoot the bolt home, and lock it with the key, which I then hang on one of the hooks next to the girls' leashes.

"Ada, you are filthy! There is no way you're getting in the bed like that. Why don't you girls heat some water and fill that bathtub for the three of us?"

Liska perks her ears up curiously.

"A bath? A proper bath? For all three of us?"

I nod.

Ada marvels, commenting, "Master is so generous!"

Am I really?

The girls trot off the bathroom and begin the laborous task of pumping water into the tub, while Liska struggles to carry the bucket to the kitchen so she can heat water on the stove.

I have a feeling that, like everything in this world, this is going to take a while.

"Call me when it's ready," I holler, then head upstairs. Lighting both of the oil lamps, I lay on the bed and pull out my 3DS again.

Oh hey, yeah, this lady and her organization TOTALLY aren't evil at all.

It's quite a while later when Liska softly pads into the room and hangs her tunic up in the wardrobe, then smiles to me and announces that the bath is ready. She's literally wagging her tail. It's the cutest fucking thing ever and I just want to devour her.

I undress and Liska follows me down the stairs to the bathroom, where Ada is already waiting.

"I've never had a real bath before," Liska says, her mood all bubbly.

"Neither have I," says Ada. "I'm not sure what you're supposed to do."

Liska is still grimy from getting all sweaty earlier, and Ada is just thoroughly coated in a fine layer of ash. She looks like Rae Dawn Chong from Quest For Fire in places.

Being an American, we typically just get in the bath, soap ourselves, shampoo, etc. and then drain all the water when we're done. But with three of us in the tub, and especially Ada all covered in ashes, the water's gonna get dirty and gross pretty quickly. Better do this Japanese style.

"Ada, sit on the stool."

She plops her butt down on the stool, then I settle down to scrubbing her down, soaping her up (especially her tits), and rinsing her off, while Liska helps shampoo her hair.

"Much better," I announce. "Now it's Liska's turn."

Ada and Liska swap places, I soap Liska very, very thoroughly (especially her little breasts), and Ada assists in shampooing her long hair and tail.

Both girls' glistening, wet bodies look fantastic, but Liska's tail looks a bit bedraggled. Her fur is so full of water that her tail is just dangling straight down, barely able to move; given how little physical strength she possesses, and how her tail is whip thin and bony underneath all that fur, I'm guessing that wet fur is just too heavy for her to move her tail around like normal.

"And now it's master's turn," she says, as Ada nods in agreement. I sit on the stool with a grin and both girls move behind me to start scrubbing me down.

"Master? May Ada do something she was taught with the other sex slaves?"

"Oh? What's that?"

"I was told this would please my master..."

She lathers the soap up and rubs it all over her breasts, then leans up against me and starts rubbing her small boobs against my back. Liska tilts her head to one side and cocks her ears sideways in that adorable manner she has whenever something puzzles her.

"This is... more awkward than they made it sound," Ada says, sounding disappointed.

"Well, I can think of worse ways to soap me up," I say with a chuckle as Ada gives up and just starts rubbing soap all over me with her hands.

Then Liska kneels to my left side, and Ada to my right, and both girls reach around and start soaping my privates, looking at me with huge grins on their faces.

Oh? What's this?

They coordinated this. They definitely planned this out while they were heating water and filling the tub.

Clever girls.

It's good to see they're getting along after their initial friction yesterday.

Ada washes all the soap off of me while Liska shampoos and rinses my hair.

All clean, it's now time to get in the tub.

I climb in first, taking a moment to get used to the temperature; the girls certainly took the instruction to heat up the water to heart!

Hmm. This tub is bigger than the one in my apartment, but this is still going to be cramped.

"Liska, you climb in first."

Liska steps in, then sinks into the water. I pat my left thigh and she straddles it, then leans back so she's laying in the tub.

"Ada, now you."

Ada carefully steps in, then stretches out to lay along my right side. Both girls are on top of me, with just our heads sticking out of the water. It's cramped, but I'm sure as hell not going to complain!

"This feels so good," Liska says, closing her eyes.

"Mm-hm," Ada emphatically agrees.

"Neither of you have been in a bath before?"

"No, they always just had us scrub ourselves down with a a rag and a bucket of water," Ada replies.

Liska nods, then adds, "Sometimes we bathed in the stream near our house, but that was always cold. This is... this is nice."

"Yes, it is," I agree, one arm around each girl. Liska giggles and Ada smiles at me.

I gently cup one of Ada's breasts in my hand and squeeze, then start playing with her nipple.

"Well, Ada... do you still think you're ready for your master to make use of you?"

She nods, blushing with a grin. Liska twitches her ears under my chin, as if to remind me not to forget about her, and I move my other hand to feel up one of her breasts too.

Mmm. This really is nice.

After a little bit, I slide both hands down between my girls' legs and begin gently running my fingers up and down their smooth, hairless slits.

"Ada, remember how we kissed this morning?"

She nods, and I pucker up. She leans over to awkwardly meet my lips, and after a moment I stick my tongue in her mouth. Her tongue retreats to make room for mine, then slowly curls around it, following as I explore her mouth. Then she follows my tongue into my mouth and moves it around before I break off the kiss. She grins at me.

Then I turn to Liska and she meets my lips as well. Sticking my tongue in her mouth, hers retreats everywhere I send mine, and when I pull my tongue back into my mouth, she doesn't follow. Maybe she's not comfortable with French kissing yet. Or maybe she thinks she's only supposed to receive. Well, whatever. She'll get plenty of practice.

I lean back, still rubbing both my girls' labia, and say, "Why don't you try that with each other now?"

Blushing, they sit up and lean together to lock lips, then exchange tongues. They break off the kiss after only a few seconds, laughing in embarassment.

"That's great, girls. Very nice."

They lean back against me, luxuriating in the hot water and the soft touch of my fingers between their legs, and I relax, feeling the warmth from the water soak into my bones. Yeah. This is nice.

After another ten minutes or so, I announce, "Well, better get out before we're all pruny."

Ada, being closest to the side of the tub, gets out first, wrapping herself in a towel. Liska is next to exit, and I pull the plug to drain the tub before stepping out and accepting the towel handed to by Liska.

Between Ada's hair and Liska's even longer hair and tail, we go through a lot of towels. Hmm. We're going to need to buy more, just so we don't have to wash and dry them so often.

One of the household goods Liska bought was a proper hairbrush, and she quickly brushes Ada's hair for her, then passes the brush to Ada and lets her brush her hair. I then take the brush and brush out Liska's tail; it doesn't really need it, but hey.

All dried off, I take each girl by the hand and lead them upstairs to the bedroom, where I shut and bolt the door. Ada climbs into bed, looking nervous, and Liska opens the door again, stepping into the hall.

"Master? Could I ask you something please?"

"Sure," I say, walking out into the hall to join her. I assume she wants to say something to me without Ada hearing.

"Um, master," she says quietly, poking the tips of her index fingers together uncertainly. "I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries as a slave, but... It's ok if master is rough when he uses Liska's body, but... w-would you please be gentle with Ada?"

I nod, reaching out to pat her head.

"There's a good girl, looking out for your 'little sister'."

She smiles, twitching her ears and flicking her tail.

Yeah, I'll be gentle for Ada's first time. I don't want to hurt her or scare her, after all.

Returning to the bedroom, Liska shuts and bolts the door behind me, then slides into bed from the other side. I climb in next to Ada, who definitely looks nervous, despite telling me she was ready for sex.

Don't worry, Ada; I won't hurt you.

I spoon up against her, gently kissing her forehead, then slide one hand down between her legs to gently rub her slit. My other hand comes up to fondle her breasts, gently tweaking one of her nipples. Liska reaches out to hold Ada's hand, smiling reassuringly.

Gradually, she relaxes against me, feeling calmer. I roll over onto all fours above her, sliding her down so only her head is on the pillow, and kiss her on the lips without tongue. Then I gently grab her above the ankles and spread her legs apart. Liska is still holding her hand and smiling, looking back and forth between us.

Positioning myself over her, I meet Ada's eyes and ask, "Ready?"

She bites her lip nervously for a moment, then nods.

There's only a hint of resistance as I penetrate her, but she still makes a hiss of discomfort, sucking in air between her teeth. I slowly thrust back and forth, working my way into her deeper and deeper, until I'm all the way in. Then I lay down on top of her and put my arms around her, and after a second she puts her arms around me.

"How's that?" I ask.

"I..." She's at a loss for words. Liska reaches over and brushes her hair back out of her face, then says softly, "It's ok. Relax. Master won't hurt his Ada."

Ada nods, and I take that as the signal to proceed.

I take it slowly and gently, careful not to cause her any discomfort. When I have sex with Liska, I have a hard time controlling myself, but with Ada it's easier to rein myself in. Maybe because I've already had Liska twice today?

In any case, Ada isn't nearly as tense anymore, and has begun breathing heavily. She's not as tight as Liska, but definitely still tighter than any of the girls I slept with in college. Maybe it's because she's younger, or is it solely because she was a virgin up until a couple of minutes ago?

"How does it feel?" Liska asks.

"It's... uncomfortable. Like I'm being stretched out. But it feels good too."

"It's your first time having a man fill your sheath," Liska says with a twitch of her ears. "It was like that for Liska's first time too."

I continue the slow and steady motion for a while longer, then gradually pick up the pace. Not nearly as hard as I banged Liska today, but enough to intensify the experience for Ada and I. She starts panting for breath, squeezing me tighter in her arms.

After a couple minutes of the faster pace, Ada suddenly has a panicked look on her face, making a couple of high-pitched moans, then clenches her teeth and holds her breath as her vagina suddenly tightens around me.

Hey, I must be pretty good if I can make two virgins come on their first time. She untenses, gasping for breath as she comes to terms with her first orgasm, and after a few more thrusts I hilt myself within her and come with a grunt.

We both pant for air, breathing into each other's faces, and I slowly pull out and lay down beside her.

"Whoo. That was good. Liska? Could you do me a favor?"

Her cheeks tinged red, Liska asks, "Would master like me to clean him?"

I nod, and she kneels beside, bending down to take my penis into her mouth and suck it clean with a slurp. Then she glances over at Ada, and I nod. Blushing even harder, Liska crawls between Ada's legs and lowers her face to her crotch, tentatively reaching out with her tongue and licking up the semen leaking out of her. After a bit, Ada suddenly sits up and says, "Whoa!"

Liska sits up, ears flattened to the sides, but I tell her to keep going. Ada lays back down, staring at the ceiling with a confused look on her face, as Liska continues to lick her clean. Then she reaches out with both hands to grab Liska's head, making an odd face. Liska again stops licking and looks up, wondering what's going on.

"Keep going."

"I think I got it all, master."

"Keep going," I say again. Liska complies.

Ada is breathing faster, face turning red, then suddenly shudders violently and gasps, her entire body tensing up for a second, then relaxing as she pants for breath again.

"That's good, Liska."

Liska sits up, not quite understanding what just happened. I kiss Ada's slightly sweaty forehead and ask her, "How did that feel?"

"... g-good. That felt good."

"Was it scary?"

"A little. At first. B-but I knew master wouldn't do anything to hurt Ada, and Liska was there, so..."

I lay down beside her, patting the bed so Liska joins me on the other side, and hug both my girls together.

"Think you might want to do that again in the future?" I ask.

She nods with a blush.

"Good. I'm glad."

I lean over Liska and blow out first one lamp, then lean over Ada and blow out the other.

"Goodnight girls."

"Goodnight master."

"Goodnight master."

They both spoon up against me on either side and pull the blanket up to cover the three of us, and I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Chapter 12: Business

Last update for the week. We're catching up to where I stopped writing, so updates will be slowing down. I've started writing again on this story, but these things take time, as I'm sure you're aware by now.

Also, told you shit was going down this week.

---

I wake up to the sound of a bell ringing. Shit. What time is it? I glance at my watch; it's an hour before I usually wake up.

The bell rings again. Momma Cat needs in the house so she can get started on breakfast.

"Liska."

I nudge my little foxgirl, who's curled up in a ball beside me. Somehow her tail has gotten up inside my shirt.

"Liska," I say again, a little louder. She suddenly jerks awake and sits up, disoriented.

"Go let Momma Cat in."

"Who?"

"Macska."

"Oh. Yes, master," she says sleepily, stumbling out of bed and rubbing her eyes. She navigates her way to the door in the dark with perfection, then heads downstairs. She really can see just fine in the dark. It's quiet enough in the house I can hear her open the front door and converse briefly with Momma Cat as she comes in and starts bustling about in the kitchen.

Liska pads her way back upstairs, shuts the bedroom door behind her, and crawls back under the covers, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that she's still naked. She was embarassed to be seen in the nude by Momma Cat yesterday while her dress was hung to dry, but she's apparently not awake enough to notice or care now.

My little foxgirl snuggles back up against me and curls into a ball around her tail, her breathing changing to that of a sleeping person almost immediately.

Ada, still asleep, has her back to me and has Soft Pig clutched to her chest. Even though Liska is really fond of that thing, she's still allowing Ada to sleep with him.

I roll over and hug Liska to me and drift off to sleep again.

When I open my eyes again and check my watch, it's the usual time to get up.

Sitting up, I fumble around in the dim pre-dawn light for my lighter and flick it open, using the light from its flame to see to light the lantern next to Ada.

"Good morning, girls."

"Good morning, master," Ada says, stretching luxuriously beside me. I kiss her cheek and squeeze one of her breasts, then roll over to the pair of ears and mussed up hair poking out from under the blanket on my other side.

Nudging her butt with my knee gets Liska to sit up and say, "Nnn, good morning, master." She smiles as I kiss her cheek and squeeze her in a hug.

I cuddle both girls to me, then announce, "We have a busy day today, so I'm afraid we can't just lay around. Up and at 'em, girls."

"Yes, master," they say in stereo, hopping out of bed. Liska and Ada take turns brushing one another's hair, then Liska carefully assembles her blouse, dress, and apron, with Ada tugging her tail through the hole in the back of her dress and buttoning it in place for her. Then Ada stands with her arms raised once she sees Liska reach for the tunic; standing on her tip-toes, Liska tugs the tunic down over Ada's head and arms, then smooths the wrinkles out of it.

In the meantime, I've slowly pulled on my pants and socks, admiring my girls as they dress themselves. They both rush over to help me put my boots on, and Liska very carefully laces them up for me. That done, both girls stand as I get up off the bed and reward them each with a pat on the head. Ada still looks as if she feels like head pats are a bit patronizing, but she accepts hers without complaint. Liska, as per usual, is beaming and more than happy to receive her pat on the head.

The girls follow me down the stairs to the kitchen, where I take my seat at the table and glance over at Momma Cat to see what's for breakfast.

Her face is much less swollen, she's able to see out of both eyes now, and the bruising is fading rapidly, but Momma Cat turns to fix both girls with a glare. She then rattles off something vaguely obscene sounding, possibly because of the harsh consonants and phlegm in the back of her throat noises her native language apparently includes a lot of, then switches to a more recognizable form of gibberish that appears to be Cursci, the common tongue.

Whatever she's saying has Liska's ears laid back and her tail tucked between her legs, at least as far as her dress allows. Ada has no idea what's going on, but clearly realizes Momma Cat is unhappy with the two of them for some reason.

Liska replies hesitantly, then flinches when Momma Cat shakes a wooden spoon at her and rattles off more gibberish.

"What's going on?"

"Master, Macska says we... She says we were naughty girls."

I'm confused.

"How so?"

"We used the wood and kindling she'd set up for this morning to heat the water for our bath last night, and we didn't replace it. So she had to do it all over again and start cooking later than she intended."

"Oh." That's right. They did do that, didn't they. I guess it's partly my fault too, since I told them to heat the bath water and it never occurred to me that they would be using the firewood already in the stove or that they would need to replace it once they were done.

"Macska says we should be punished so we don't forget the next time, but that it isn't her place to punish us."

I look at her, the very image of the angry old woman scolding her grandchildren for tracking mud into the house. I guess technically I could regard this as her telling me what to do and ignore it, not punishing the girls, but I've already decided the kitchen is her domain. When it comes to the kitchen, the girls are fair game for Momma Cat, as far as I'm concerned. And if I do punish them, they'll remember not to be so careless next time.

"Well, she's right, girls. Bend over the table."

Liska's ears sag and she bends over the table, trembling. Ada bends over the table beside her, looking distinctly unhappy. I rise from my chair to stand behind them.

"Do you girls understand why I'm doing this?"

Liska nods. Ada shakes her head.

"You need to be mindful of others, and mindful of what needs to be done around the house. You used Macska's firewood she needed for breakfast and didn't replace it. This is so you think about that sort of thing next time."

I lift the hem of Ada's tunic and give her a single swat to her bare behind. She flinches, but immediately realizes I'm going easy on her. I tug her tunic back down, then stand behind Liska. She grudgingly raises her tail for me, and I lift her dress up and give her a single swat to the behind as well, then lower her dress and smooth it out.

"Are you girls going to remember to replace anything you use next time? Or to clean up after you use something?"

I get a chorus of "yes, master!" in response.

"Ok. Stand up."

They both get up from the table, looking properly castigated, and I sit back in my chair. Momma Cat looks on, apparently approving of my mild punishment, then returns to her work.

"Help Macska with anything she needs."

The girls leap to obey, and Liska sets plates onto the table, then kneels beside me, hands folded in her lap, to wait. Ada helps Momma Cat carry breakfast to the table, then serve it up on the plates.

Pancakes, soaked in butter and drizzled lightly in honey. A roasted apple, also drizzled in honey. A sausage, and a hard-boiled egg coated in salt and spices. All in all, an excellent breakfast.

The girls wait for me to start eating, then immediately dive in, devouring everything with gusto. Liska notices me watching her when she goes for the apple, glances between it and me, and asks, "What?"

"Nothing," I say with a smile. I was just thinking of another certain girl, one with wolf ears instead of fox ears, who loved apples more than anything. That doesn't seem to be the case here though, as Liska simply devours the apple with the same enthusiasm she approached the pancakes and sausage with.

Breakfast finished, Liska passes my plate to Ada, who helps Momma Cat carry everything to the sink and start cleaning them. I pat my leg and Liska starts to lean against it for an ear scratching, but I shake my head and pat my leg again. She cocks her ears to the side in confusion, then has an 'oh, ok' look as she gets up and sits on my lap. I scratch the base of her tail with one hand, and her ears with the other, and she mewls in enjoyment, closing her eyes.

Momma Cat glances over her shoulder at us, and her stern grandmother look immediately devolves into a "d'awww!" look. Yeah, my little Liska is fucking adorable. Then Momma Cat nudges Ada with her elbow, points to a spot she missed while scrubbing a pan, and resumes her work.

Dishes done, Momma Cat starts reseasoning the skillet she used with some olive oil, making sure Ada is watching carefully to learn how it's done. Once it's done, she retrieves the plates she set aside for her and Mushuk, bows to me with another 'how cute!' look at Liska, and retreats to the guest house, where Mushuk is busily chopping and stacking firewood by the door.

Liska presses her head against my fingertips so I can scratch just the right spot, and bites her lip as her left leg starts jiggling uncontrollably. There we go, that's the spot.

Ada kneels down beside me and I take my hand that was scratching Liska's tail and pat her on the head with it.

"Allright, here's the plan for today, girls," I say, stopping the ear scritching. Liska sits up and looks at me attentively, but remains perched in my lap.

"Ada, you're going to sweep all the upstairs rooms that you girls didn't get to earlier. Don't worry about scrubbing the floors, that can wait until you have Liska to help. Just get the floors swept and the rooms dusted. When you're done with that, see if Momma Cat- er, Macska needs any help in the kitchen."

"Yes, master."

"Liska, you're going into town with me. We're going to pick up Ada's new clothes, then we're going to stop by a blacksmith and have a talk with him. Then we're going to see someone about selling something, and hopefully come back in time for lunch."

"Ok, master."

"Master?"

"Yes, Ada?"

"Is it ok if I don't wear the tunic while I clean? It, um... chafes my nipples."

"I don't mind," I tell her. Honestly, I'm perfectly happy to have both my girls walk around nude all day.

"Just make sure you wear it if you go outside. And remember, you can only go outside to help Momma Cat. Come right back inside immediately, and don't leave sight of the house."

"Yes, master."

Once Momma Cat returns from eating breakfast with her husband, I have Liska tell her my plans for the morning, and she sticks her head out the door to holler at her husband to hitch the horse to the wagon.

The girls follow me up the stairs, Ada whipping off her tunic and setting to work with the broom, and Liska buttoning on her garter belt, then asking if I'd like to help her slide on her stockings. I sit on the edge of the bed and pat my lap, and she perches herself there with a smile, allowing me to put her stockings on over her dainty little feet and slowly pull them up the length of her slender, shapely legs so she can button them to her garter belt.

"Ready to go?"

She nods, and I lead the way downstairs. Liska turns her back and folds her arms behind her so I can put on her restraints, then faces me with her chin up so I can clip her leash onto her collar. That done, my foxgirl steps carefully into her shoes and bounces on her toes once, signifying that she's ready.

I lead her out to the barn, where Mushuk has the wagon ready. Liska hops up easily, in spite of me holding her leash and her arms being bound behind her back, and Mushuk gives her an impressed look. I climb up and sit on the bench, Liska seated between me and Mushuk, and the old catman snaps the reins and gets the horse moving.

"Macska asked if we would pick up more groceries while we're in town, and Mushuk would like more feed for the horse, master."

Oh yeah. We do have to buy groceries rather frequently, since refrigeration isn't a thing. Americans are used to stocking up on food once a week or so, but here everything has to be made from scratch, eaten the same day it's prepared, or preserved like jerky or salt pork. As a result, buying food is an almost daily affair.

"We can do that once I've concluded my business and we're ready to head back," I say. I also dig in my pocket and pull out a pair of silver tarls, passing them to Mushuk.

"That's his pay. From now on, he'll be paid weekly."

Liska translates, and Mushuk nods at me, pocketing the two coins.

Our first stop is the seamstress. Mushuk waits outside with the wagon while Liska and I go in.

I pay for Ada's dress and stockings, and the seamstress asks me to bring her by in her new clothes so she can check the fit and make any necessary adjustments. She also coos over Liska for a moment, and graces me with a smile.

"She's so healthy and clean. She looks very happy. It isn't often you run into a slave owner as good as you."

"Uh, thanks," I say, still not sure how to take that. I guess it's a genuine compliment, but it sounds like 'you're the nicest asshole I know' when someone calls me a good slave owner.

Liska says nothing, but leans against me to press her modest bust against my arm with a smile and a flick of her ears.

Carrying the package with Ada's new clothes, I give her leash a gentle tug and we head back to the wagon.

"Next, the blacksmith."

Mushuk has no idea where to go, since he's new to this country, and needs Liska to give him directions. Liska, while knowing where all the high end shops are that a lord-in-training would need to know about, also has no clue where to find a blacksmith.

We end up circling the market streets in the wagon until we spot a place that seems likely, and Liska and I head inside.

Nope. This isn't a blacksmith, but more of a jeweler. Except he doesn't really do jewelry, he does bespoke metal items like lamps, decorative plagues, little statuettes... what do you call a place like this?

Well, he works in metal and he does small things like this, so maybe this is actually better than a blacksmith.

A man in black pants, a white linen shirt, and a leather apron festooned in pockets and tools comes over and, glancing at Liska with the look of a man who's spotted an attractive girl but can't do anything about it, greets me with a smile.

"Welcome, my lord! How may I help you?"

"I was actually looking for someone who's interested in a business opportunity."

"What sort of business opportunity?"

"I have a product I would like to sell, but I need someone to manufacture it. I was hoping you would be interested."

"What sort of product, my lord?" he says with a look of interest.

I pull out my Zippo lighter and hold it in front of him. He just sees a little brass box.

"I'd like to make a lot of these, and sell them."

"I'm not sure that a brass box would be-"

I snap it open and flick the wheel, immediately producing fire in my hand. He freezes mid-sentence and I snap the lid shut.

"... may I?"

I hand it to him and he opens the lid, examining it.

"How did you-?"

I reach over, press my thumb on the wheel, and flick it. Again, instant flame.

"Ingenius. I've never seen anything like this."

"I was hoping you could copy it, if I showed you how it was made."

He nods enthusiastically.

"Before we get into the technical details, perhaps we should talk business first. Now, I have the design for this device, and you would be producing them. What do you think a fair price for one of these would be?"

"Oh, with cost of material, labor, depending on what's involved in making one, and the fact that this is such an amazing and convenient means of making fire, I could easily charge a tal for one of these. Maybe more."

"And how much of that would be the cost of material and labor?"

He shrugs uncertainly.

"I couldn't say for sure, until I know more about how it works. But probably half of the price would be profit."

"I see. Then why don't we become business partners? I'll provide the design and pay the cost of materials, you produce them and sell them in your shop, and we split the profits 50/50. Cost of material goes back to me, and cost of labor goes to you."

"That's... extraordinarily fair, my lord. Let me get some writing material and we can go over the design. I'll send my apprentice to fetch a lawyer to draw up the business contract as well."

His apprentice, a teenager with bad acne and an identical leather apron, is sent to fetch a lawyer, and the... smith? Jeweler? I'm still not sure what to call this guy, and I'm not going to look stupid by asking, lays out some yellowish-brown paper and a pencil.

It's a cool looking pencil, I'll give him that. It's just a cylinder of graphite, or possibly charcoal, held by a brass cylinder. To advance the pencil lead, you just push down on a little tab on the top. It even has a clip for attaching to the pocket of his apron. I saw a mechanical pencil like that in a museum exhibit about the Lewis and Clark expedition, which was in... 1805? I think it was 1805. Did Thomas Jefferson invent it, or is it older than that? I have no idea when the mechanical pencil was invented in my world, and no way to look it up now. Damn. That's going to drive me crazy.

I disassemble the Zippo, and he sketches it all out.

"Only one screw in the entire design, and a couple of rivets. Genius. I don't have a means of making this spring, but the clockmaker down the street can sell them to me. The wire in the wick is clever, keeps it stiff and makes it easy to advance the wick when it burns down. What is this wheel made of?"

"The striker wheel is made of hardened steel."

"Ah. I can work with that. And what is this little red thing it's striking against? That's not flint, is it?"

Actually, it's not. It's a blend of rare earth elements. I'm pretty sure there's no way to replicate a lighter flint with the technology here. Nor do I think actual flint would be practical to use in its place.

"You can use a small pyrite cylinder to make the spark," I reply. That's how wheellock pistols of the early 1600's worked, after all. It was basically identical to the Zippo light, just the wheel was spun via spring pressure when you pulled the trigger.

"Ah, yes. That could work. And what fuel do you use?"

Lighter fuel is naptha, but that's a petroleum product. I don't think petroleum is a thing here, except by accident.

"You can use refined alcohol, oil, pretty much any flammable liquid, really. The cleaner it burns, the better. Fuels that are very smoky or gummy will clog up the wick and not work right."

He nods, jotting down notes. His apprentice comes back with a man wearing ludicrous tights and a frilled collar, who writes out a contract to my specifications, reads it back to us, and has us both sign it.

"And what will you be calling this product you're making?" he asks.

The... jeweler-smith-person looks at me to provide the answer.

"The Schulz fire-lighter."

The lawyer jots that down on the contract, suggests filing a patent for both the name and the product, and I do so. All paperwork signed, we pay the lawyer and he sets off to submit the paperwork and have copies made for us to keep.

The smith shakes my hand after I pocket my lighter and says, "A pleasure doing business with you, my lord! I'm not sure how quickly I can make one of these, but I'll get started on the first one right away! I'll send for you once it's finished, and if you're satisfied with the result, you can purchase the raw materials and I'll start producing them and selling them in my shop."

He shakes my hand again, continuing, "These are going to be the next big thing! Everyone is going to want a Schulz fire-lighter!"

He grabs his sketches and immediately harangues his apprentice to help him begin his prototype, disappearing into the back of the shop.

Liska, who's been standing silently this entire time, finally speaks up.

"If master weren't already wealthy, he soon would be. It really is an ingenius device; he's right, everyone will want one."

I was pretty confident the guy was right, but if Liska says it, it's probably true. I pat her on the head and we head back outside and join Mushuk in the wagon.

"That went well. Ok, now let's head over near the slave dealer. We're looking for a green house with a statue of a lion in front."

It takes us a bit, but we finally locate Giros' place. Mushuk parks the wagon, and Liska and I head up to the door, where I bang the knocker.

Jeeves answers the door almost immediately, and a look of recognition crosses his face when he takes in my odd clothes.

"Ah, come in, my lord, come in. Lord Bertinelczik is expecting you."

Liska follows me inside, and Jeeves gestures wordlessly at the hooks by the door. I put her leash on one and she resigns herself to waiting patiently while I do my business.

"It may be a moment, my lord. Lord Bertinelczik is entertaining several guests and business associates. Would you care to join?"

"Sure," I say. He raises one eyebrow, as if I said something uncouth, but leads me out of the entryway into the larger room, where a dozen or so fancily-dressed people are milling around, talking and helping themselves to finger foods and a punch bowl.

"I didn't realize he had guests; I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all, my lord. Please make yourself comfortable while I announce your arrival."

Jeeves disappears, and I stand there awkwardly while several nearby people look me up and down, no doubt wondering about my unusual clothes. No one approaches to engage me in conversation and I stay where I am. I really don't feel like socializing with random strangers.

Giros, dressed as gaudily as he was the day I met him, strides into the room with a broad grin, arms wide.

"Aaaaah, Lord Schulz! So good to see you again! I expect you're here to complete our business arrangements, yes?"

"I am," I confirm, nodding politely.

"Splendid, splendid. Right this way, if you please."

I follow him into another room, and he walks over to the mantle above the fireplace, retrieving a sack from a box.

"I have the other hundred talos I promised you. I presume you have the other half of the coin?"

"I do," I say, retrieving it from my pocket and holding it up. We swap, him taking half my aluminum coin and me taking the sack of gold coins. He compares the two halves of the coin, and I quickly count my gold to confirm it's all there, and then we shake hands.

"A pleasure doing business with you, my lord."

"For me as well," I reply.

"Oh, do please stay a while longer. I'm entertaining several business associates of mine, and you're more than welcome to join."

I really don't want to, but it seems like I'd be rude if I declined.

"I have other matters to attend to, but I could stay for a few minutes," I say. He grins like the Cheshire cat, clapping me on the upper arm, then frowning momentarily as he feels the bulge of my bicep under my jacket. What's that about?

"You know, I am curious about one thing, my lord. Who is it that's depicted on the silver-from-clay coin you sold me, I wonder?"

Some random Olympic athlete from a decade ago. But Liska seems to think I should be doing everything I can to improve my public image and seem important, so...

I shrug casually and answer, "A cousin of mine. I'd have to see the coin again to tell you which one."

Giros momentarily pales, his expression faltering, but his smile recovers quickly. It never reaches his eyes though. I'm starting to get a creepy vibe.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that? Around here, the local coinage has the prince of Ossetria on it. If I have a cousin, or more than one, that's important enough to end up on a super valuable coin, that implies I have a very powerful family, doesn't it? I'm not sure if I've made a misstep by claiming that. Then again, nobody can prove me wrong, can they.

We step into the large room and Giros makes his way over to where a pair of young men in ridiculous tights and ponytails are standing. I happen to notice an older man with graying hair looking into the antechamber oddly, then step in and head toward the door.

That's where Liska is waiting. What's he looking at down there?

I shake my head at a scantily-clad girl wearing a slave collar and offering me a large glass of wine, and follow the old man into the entry hall.

Two women in amazingly colorful dresses are standing next to Liska. Liska's ears are flattened to the sides, her tail is curled around her defensively, and she's very carefully not looking at either woman.

"I see someone brought their dog for a walk," one says nastily. The other reaches out and pokes Liska's tail, commenting, "Oh look, she brought a feather duster along. How useful."

I'm about to say something rude when the old man walks up to them.

"Ah, Adebelle Glisko! You look beautiful as ever. That dress is incredible; it must have taken your slaves hours to sew you into it," he says charmingly.

She smiles politely, then drops her jaw in shock as he continues, "Of course, your daddy tells me it takes the space of a dandy's wink to get you out of it."

Scandalized, she stomps off back into the room with the others, followed by her bitch friend. Liska's ears perk up cautiously, and the old man winks at her.

"I cannot abide useless people. Good day, miss."

I'm about to thank him for stepping in, when someone loudly announces behind me, "You dare insult my sister to her face?"

Turning, I see the two young men Giros was talking to standing behind me. And that's when I notice they're both wearing swords on their hips.

The old man opens his mouth to say something, but the young guy standing closest steps forward to get in my face.

"You have the audacity to imply my sister is a whore?!"

"I never-"

"Actually, Lord Glisko, it was I who said that. This young man only just arrived."

"Are you calling my sister a liar?"

"I didn't say th-"

Turning back to me, the man gets up in my face and says, "I challenge you to a duel, you bastard!"

Chapter 13: Duel

Wherein shit goes down.

---

I blink.

"Excuse you?"

"I said, I challenge you to a duel!"

I look at him for a solid moment.

Now in all my 28 years of eatin' burgers, I ain't never run into no Martian. Not at 2:30 in the morning, and certainly not at a fine scarfin' establishment like Eat.

My brain resets and I give him a reply.

"The hell you say. I just got here. I haven't said one word to anyone but Giros, your sister was the one talking shit to my slave, and you're insane if you think I'm accepting any challenge to a duel from a pompous jerkwad like you."

He takes a swing at me and I sidestep, responding with a simple takedown. I grab his forearm with my right hand and hit his tricep with the edge of my open left hand, rotating his arm as I plant my left foot in front of him and haul his arm to my right in a big circle around me. He stumbles forward, tripping over the foot I planted in front of him, and I faceplant him in the floor.

"Don't move," I tell him. He thrashes, trying to get up, and I put a knee between his shoulder blades and bend his arm back.

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!"

His friend starts to draw his sword, but the old man puts a hand on his arm, stopping him.

Giros steps into the hall and loudly announces, "Gentlemen, I have summoned the guard. I suggest you save your energies for the duel."

"I have no intention of dueling anyone. I'm leaving," I announce. I let go of the hothead and stand up, backing toward the door in case he tries anything. He gets to his feet, angrily swiping blood from his nose, but he doesn't make a move for his sword.

The door opens behind me and two guards in kettle helms, breastplates, and their hands on the grips of their swords step in.

The old man turns to Giros, looking equal parts angry and shocked.

"Giros! You arranged this, didn't you?"

Giros gives him a disgusted sneer, responding, "Of course I did. You think it's a coincidence some foreigner shows up, loaded with money, and starts sniffing around the same week the prince is ousted?"

Son. Of. A. BITCH.

Liska was 100% right about everything. There was some motherfucker plotting against me, from day fucking one, and it was this pig raping goatfucker right here.

"You realize, of course, this precludes the possibility of any future business," I tell him deadpan. I doubt he's aware that I tend to sound calm when I'm really angry.

Giros shrugs, clearly not giving a shit.

"A challenge to a duel has been issued, and it's come to blows. There's no way to settle this but to have the duel."

The guards still have their hands on their swords, ready to draw.

Dammit. I could try to shoot my way out, but the 21 foot rule exists for a reason. On average, someone with a knife- or a sword, which has greater reach- who's 21 feet away or closer can run up and stab you before you can draw and fire a pistol. None of them have drawn their swords yet, but there's four of them; as soon as they see me reach for a weapon, they'll all draw, and they're all closer than 21 feet. They also have me surrounded on three sides. I might get one or two, but the others would run me through.

Even if I did manage to shoot my way out, I'd be a fugitive. They'd send more guards after me. Would I have time to grab my stuff at the house and load Ada into the wagon? Without the stuff in my backpack, especially the aluminum coins, I'm screwed. Most of my gold is at home too, in case I get robbed or pickpocketed. Would I be able to start over with nothing? As a fugitive? Would Mushuk abandon his wife if I just ordered him to drive us as far from here as he could? I'd still have Liska. I could live with just Liska.

Shit. No. Even if I had time to grab Ada, Macska, and all my stuff and flee before they came after me, they'd hunt me down. And considering their idea of justice here, I'm pretty sure I'd never get a fair trial.

The old man looks at me and says, "I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for this. They may have conspired to blame you, but it was my words that gave them their excuse. I will serve as your second. I can loan you use of a sword, if need be."

"No," I say, gritting my teeth. "I have a sword of my own at home."

"Very well," one of the guards says. "One of us will accompany you while you retrieve it. The other will hold onto your slave here, to ensure your return."

How does he know Liska is my slave? The guards just got here.

Actually- Giros said he summoned them, and they showed up almost immediately. When did he summon them? How? He never set foot outside.

That bastard really did arrange this beforehand.

I look over at Liska. She's scared out of her wits, her lips peeled back to expose her teeth in a rictus grin of terror, ears flat against her skull.

The pompous jackass who challenged me to a duel and tried to punch me smirks, saying, "If you're too much of a coward to return with your sword, I think I'll just sell your slave to a whorehouse... and offer her up as a free sample to everyone passing on the street."

"I'll be back with my sword. And I'm going to shove it right up your ass," I respond. Then I turn to Giros and look him dead in the eye.

"And I'm not through with you either, you piece of shit."

With that, I turn to Liska and tell her, "I'll be back."

"Don't worry, my lord," the old man tells me. "Nothing will happen to her... so long as you return promptly. As your second, I would have to fight in your place if you didn't come back, so... please hurry."

Stepping outside, I climb into the wagon and one of the guards gets in the back, presumably so he can run me through if I try any shenanigans. Mushuk looks at me, confused, and I wave for him to go, pointing in the general direction of the house. After a moment's hesitation, probably due to confusion about why I don't have Liska and why there's a city guard in the wagon, he clicks his tongue and snaps the reins, urging the horse into motion.

I'm seething. I'm so pissed off, I'm literally seeing red from the blood pumping through my veins. If anything happens to Liska, I'll kill every last one of them. Consequences be damned.

I'll invent fucking napalm, burn this city to the ground and piss on the ashes if they do anything to Liska.

Arriving at the house, I motion for Mushuk to stay with the wagon and stomp my way inside. Momma Cat looks at me in surprise as I storm my way past, up the stairs, to the bedroom. I retrieve my zweihander from its place in the corner, leaning against the wall.

"Ada!"

She appears at the doorway instantly, broom in her hands.

"Master?"

"Get dressed, put everything of mine into my backpack, and have it on the kitchen table ready to leave. Everything, my money, my books, my clothes, everything. You and Macska be ready to leave the second I return."

"Y-yes, master! Did something ha-"

"NOW!"

"Yeep!"

She drops the broom and throws her tunic on, then starts throwing everything I took out of my backpack into it, with no regard for how it should be packed. I stomp down the stairs, sword over my shoulder, and find the guard standing in the kitchen, watching me warily.

"Let's go," I tell him.

Momma Cat runs to the door, looking frightened and confused, watching as I get back into the wagon and we head back to town.

Pulling up in front of Giros' place, a small crowd has formed in the street as word has apparently gotten around that a duel is going to take place. The other guard is holding Liska's leash off to one side, accompanied by the old man, who now has a sword of his own on his hip.

Jumping out of the wagon, I lay my zweihander over my shoulder and walk over to join them.

"So what are the rules here?" I ask.

The old man shrugs.

"So long as no third party interferes, there really aren't any rules. Do whatever it takes to win. The duel ends when one of you dies or yields to the other."

"So what's stopping me from just telling him I yield?" I ask.

He looks at me as if I'm an idiot, then takes in my clothing and seems to go, 'oh right, a foreigner' in his head.

"You would be dishonered. You would lose ownership of any slaves you own, and forfeit any business contracts. No noble or high merchant would do business with you, because you would be branded a coward who valued his own life over his honor."

I do value my life over whatever honor system they have here. But I'm not giving up Liska. Or Ada. Especially if it means they'd be sold off to some abusive asshole like the chucklefuck with the ponytail there. No. I'm not yielding. I'm either going to beat this guy down, or die trying.

The old man looks at the zweihander over my shoulder and asks, "Think you brought enough sword?"

I hold it out for him to hold onto while I pull off my jacket and hand it to him, then take my sword back. Then I turn to face the pompous asshole.

His eyes widen. I'm wearing a tight, short-sleeve t-shirt, not the looser ones hanging in the wardrobe. I like wearing it because it shows off my muscles to the girls. Yeah, I've been pretty lazy since I got here, but you don't get a blackbelt in karate or learn medieval combat techniques by being a fatass. I'm pretty jacked. And at 6'3", I'm easily the tallest person I've encountered since I got here.

The jackass is starting to wonder if he made a mistake. I'm sure he remembers how fast I took him down when he tried to punch me.

He draws his sword; it's not quite an arming sword, and not quite a rapier, it's something in between. Definitely meant for one-handed use though. I get a firm, two-handed grip on my zweihander and he's visibly shaken.

Yeah. I brought enough sword, asshole.

Then he scoffs.

"You think you're tough, waving that plank around? A sword that big and heavy isn't going to-"

"I'm going to break you," I growl.

Yeah. That shut him up. He's starting to think he might have made a mistake, picking a fight with me.

Too late to back out now. You saw to that. You and Giros both.

Now my only hope is that I've got enough speed and raw muscle to overwhelm this guy, because I'm pretty sure someone who lives in the 1600's and has been swordfighting his whole life can kick my ass, since I just studied swordplay as a hobby.

The guard who accompanied me back home also seems impressed with the sheer size of my sword. He draws his own, holding it parallel to the ground between us.

"Does the challenger still maintain that his honor has been besmirched by the challenged?"

"Yes."

"Does the challenged still maintain that his honor has been besmirched by the challenger?"

".... yeah, sure."

"Then let the question of honor be settled in combat like men. The duel ends when one of you is mortally wounded or yields."

He whips his sword down and steps back. I guess that's the signal to start.

Yep, that's the signal to start! The asshole immediately lunges forward, thrusting his sword, and I parry, aiming a cut for his midsection. He jumps back in time to avoid it, whips his sword across, and I block it, then counter with a broad swing aiming for his head. He ducks, narrowly avoiding my sword, starts to thrust at me in what he thinks is an opening, and then has to jump back again as I backswing faster than he anticipated. He gains some distance from me and starts circling to my left, looking distinctly nervous as he realizes my sword isn't nearly as heavy and awkward as it looks, I have much more reach than he does, and that two-handed grip lets me whip it around pretty quickly. He needs to take me seriously.

I'm learning too. This guy is as much an amateur as I am. More so, maybe. It makes sense; he's the pompous son of some rich guy, so how often has he had to seriously fight anyone? If I can rattle him badly enough, he's going to make some amateur mistakes.

I grin as confidently as I can, staring him down. That's one of the tricks I learned in karate; look someone in the eye and communicate your intent to murder the shit out of him. If he stares back, you're in for a fight. If he blinks first... you've already won.

And this cocksure little shit just blinked.

I roar as fiercely as I can, surprising him with the sudden noise, and close the distance, swinging diagonally to bisect him from shoulder to hip. He scrambles backwards, the crowd hastily making sure they're out of our way, and swings his sword up to block, taking the full force of my swing. The impact shocks his wrist and arm, and I immediately lunge closer, running the length of my blade along the blade of his and drive my heel into the top of his foot as hard as I can, right against the ankle.

Watch your footwork, dipshit.

He yelps and stumbles back, flailing desperately with his sword. He's making the mistake of all amateur fencers: he's aiming for my sword, not for me. And he's not putting enough force behind it; it's a sword, not a lightsaber. Don't tap the other guy with it, put enough force behind your swing to carry through.

I swing down again, smashing blade against blade as hard as I can, and he actually loses his grip on his sword. Off balance from his getting his ankle smashed, he fumbles for his sword, trying to get it up in a guard position before I can swing it at him again.

At which point, I punch him in the face with the pommel and send his teeth flying into the dirt. He drops like a load of bricks, and I kick his swordhand, knocking it away. The point of my sword goes to his crotch and I slowly apply pressure.

"Remember when I said I was going to shove this up your ass? I lied. I'm going to shove it up your urethra."

"Yield! I yield!"

At least, I think he was saying he yields. Kinda hard to understand him with those missing teeth and all the blood he's spitting everywhere as he screams desperately.

Eh. I'll just claim I couldn't understand him and stab his dick anyway.

The guard sticks his sword out horizontally and shouts, "HALT!"

Reluctantly, I back away from the sniveling little shit on the ground, and the guard announces, "This duel has finished! Lord Glisko has yielded. Lord Schulz is the victor."

I lay my sword over my shoulder and turn my back on my prostrate opponent, walking over to Liska and the old man. The old man looks pleasantly surprised.

"Well done! I knew Glisko had never actually dueled someone before, but I had no idea how experienced you may or may not be. I must say, while you're obviously not a professional soldier, you handled yourself quite well. Well done," he says again.

Liska still looks scared, but also like she's immensely relieved. Well, that's understandable; she does seem fond of me, and as I said before, her fate is tied to mine. If anything happens to me, her life immediately becomes a lot worse.

"BASTARD!"

I turn and see the pompous asshole's buddy now standing in the center of the crowd, sword drawn.

"You've humiliated my friend in public and ruined his reputation!"

"No, I'm pretty sure he ruined his reputation by surrendering like a bitch," I retort.

"I challenge you to a duel!"

I look at the old man and ask, "Can he do that?"

"It's considered extremely poor sportsmanship," he says, obviously disgusted, "But it does have precedent. Since you won the first duel, the consequences of refusing this one will be far less than if you refused the first one. But given that he's a much better swordsman than Lord Glisko, people would assume you refused because you were afraid he'd win. You could just walk away, but it'd still be a black eye on your reputation."

Dammit. I have to live in this society. I can't afford to be a pariah.

Then a thought occurs to me.

"When you said anything goes in the duel... do I have to use a sword?"

The old man gives me an odd look, then shrugs.

"Well, no. You can use any weapon you want. Dwarves and halflings tend to duel with spears, for instance, since they need more reach due to their size. And there was a fellow famous for dueling with a crossbow a few years ago; worked wonders for him until he eventually missed his shot, and got skewered before he could reload. But no, you don't have to use a sword. You can use any weapon you're proficient with."

"Hold this," I tell him, holding out my zweihander. He takes it, confused. I turn to face the asshole challenging me and announce, "I accept."

The guard holds his sword horizontally between us.

"Does the challenger still maintain that his honor has been besmirched by the challenged?"

"Yes!"

"Does the challenged still maintain that his honor has been besmirched by the challenger?"

"Yes."

"Then let the question of honor be settled in combat like men. The duel ends when one of you is mortally wounded or yields."

He whips his sword down and steps back.

At which point I promptly pull an Indiana Jones and shoot the motherfucker in the face before he can close the distance and stab me.

Everyone in the crowd jumps as the gunshot rings out, and a .45-caliber, 185 grain +P Remington Golden Saber jacketed hollowpoint punches through his face, between his left eye and his nose, and blows out the back of his skull with a fist-sized hole, spraying blood and brains over everyone immediately behind him.

Shit. I hope the bullet didn't hit a bystander.

No, ok, nobody seems hurt, just shocked by the gory death of my opponent.

I leave my HK USP Compact cocked and the safety off, and holster it. Then I turn to the stunned guard and casually say, "I think I won."

The guard looks at me in a daze, as if he doesn't believe what just happened, then raises his sword and stammers out, "Th-this duel h-has finished! Lord Akar has fallen! L-lord Schulz is the victor!"

Then I turn and fix a death glare on Giros, who suddenly looks as if he wants to be anywhere but here right now.

"You."

I march over to him and, to his credit, he stands his ground. Though he does look rather pale.

"You arranged for this."

"Ah, well, that is-"

"Give me back my coin."

"W-what?!"

"I will be writing a very detailed letter to my family back home. My family whose face happens to be on that coin. And I will explain, very thoroughly, about how you betrayed my trust and set me up to be murdered in a duel under false pretenses."

"Uh..."

"If you give me back my coin, I will very generously allow you to flee Ossetria before my family makes any inquiries as to your whereabouts. I suggest you run very, VERY far from here."

"I-I don't-"

"Or I could simply challenge you to a duel. Right here. Right now. And I won't be using a sword."

He actually starts to turn green. Hand shaking, he pulls out the two halves of my aluminum coin from the purse on his belt and hands them to me.

"Now get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you, you son of a bitch."

Giros turns and literally runs back into his house, slamming the door behind him. Jeeves, standing nearby, looks shaken.

"I can't believe he would do such a thing! Arranging all this, and then running like a coward on top of that?" He shakes his head in wonder. "I cannot, in good conscience, continue in his employ."

Jeeves turns to me and bows, gray-faced.

"My humblest apologies, my lord."

I wave dismissively and Jeeves walks away down the street, not looking back at Giros' house.

I turn to the guard officiating the duels and demand, "Are we done here?"

"Y-yes, my lord!"

I walk over to where the old man and Liska are standing, and I jerk Liska's leash out of the hand of the other guard, who quickly backs away from me. Liska looks shocked.

"Are you ok?" I ask her.

"I... I think I peed a little," she replies, shamefaced, ears turned to the sides and down.

I glance down and there is indeed a damp spot on the dusty ground between her feet. Well, good thing she doesn't wear underwear, I guess. I pat her on the head reassuringly, then take my sword back from the old man.

"That was... unexpected," he says, swallowing audibly. He's wide-eyed and apparently just as shocked as everyone else. I guess pistols really aren't used for duels? Nobody's complaining that it was against the rules though, so meh.

"Uh, Lord Schulz, was it? I understand if you wish to leave immediately, but I wonder if you might do me the honor of attending a party at my manor two days from now? Again, I do feel partly responsible for this travesty, and wish to make it up to you."

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," I tell him.

"Ah, of course. I am Hiram, the Duke of Wellby."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," I say. He obviously catches on that I'm merely being polite and nods.

"Two days time. An hour before sunset. If you don't mind, my lord."

"I think I'll be there," I say. I'd better tread on as few toes as possible. I've already got Giros setting me up with enemies, and I'm sure the pompous jackass will want payback for humiliating him and knocking his teeth out. And shooting his buddy in the face. Actually, his buddy's family will probably want payback too.

Dammit, I have to live here. I just want to be left alone, not bothering anyone and not being bothered. How the hell am I gaining so many enemies by just existing?!

Yeah. Assuming this guy is trustworthy, I'd better keep on his good side and go to his stupid party. I'm starting to think that keeping to myself isn't really an option and I'm going to need to start making friends among the locals. And the higher up the foodchain I can climb, the better.

Liska knew. She knew all along, understood better than I did. My clever little foxgirl wanted me to enhance my public image to avoid just this sort of trouble, turn me into a respectable and intimidating lord.

Fine. From now on, I'm climbing the social ladder. I'm going to be the one lord everyone wants to be friends with, not enemies. Because being my enemy is going to be a very unhealthy proposition.

I give him a little bow, and Hiram, Duke of Wellby, bows back, slightly lower. Turning, I walk toward the wagon- and screech to a halt as I inadvertently jerk on Liska's leash hard enough to nearly topple her over. She's not paying attention, she's staring off into the distance with a glazed look to her eyes.

"C'mon, Liska. Let's go home."

"Y-yes, master."

We reach the wagon, where Mushuk is waiting with a distinctly uncomfortable expression, and I toss the sword in the back, not caring. Liska tries to hop onto the step and slips off; she's shaking violently now. I pick her up, marveling again just for a moment at how light she is, and set her gently on the bench seat, then climb into the wagon. I gesture, and Mushuk gets the horse moving.

I'm not buying groceries, and I'm not buying feed for the horse. I'm going straight home. Screw everything else.

Liska is still shaking, and I put one arm around her, trying to comfort my little foxgirl. Once we're through the gates and safely out of the city, watched nonchalantly by the guards standing there with nothing to do, I partly unholster my pistol, decock it, and flip the safety back on. The last thing I need is to accidentally shoot myself in the leg.

We pull up to the house and I hop off the wagon, then turn to Liska. She looks like she's going to be sick. I pick her up again and carry her to the door, bridal style. Mushuk follows, retrieving my sword from the back of the wagon and gingerly carrying it.

Ada flings the door open, looking concerned, and Momma Cat is standing by the table, ready to hand me my backpack in case we have to flee.

"What happened, master?"

"I'll tell you later. For now, everything's fine."

Mushuk carefully leans my sword against the wall by the door and has a hushed conversation in gibberish with Momma Cat, who gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. Ada can't understand a word of what they say, whether it's in Cursci or Magyag, and is left hopelessly out of the loop.

I carry Liska upstairs, kick the bedroom door shut, and flop onto the bed. Liska turns over in my lap to face me; arms still bound behind her back, she wraps her legs around my midsection and presses her head against my chest in the closest thing she can achieve to a hug, and then sobs uncontrollably as I wrap my arms around her protectively.

I have never seen a girl cry so hard before. It's a helpless, scared, wailing and sobbing affair, and I just hold her to me, letting her get it all out.

The adrenaline of the fight is starting to wear off, and the fact that I just killed a guy, splattering his brains all over, is also setting in.

Holy shit. I just ended someone's life. I've carried a gun for years, and I always figured if it came down to me or some mugger or mass shooter, I wouldn't have a problem putting him down.

I was right. I'm perfectly ok with killing that asshole. But still. I took a human life. That's... wow. I'd hoped I'd never actually have to do that.

The adrenaline is definitely wearing off, and now I'm starting to get the shakes too. I raise one hand to the back of Liska's head and stroke her pretty red hair softly, rocking her in my arms, and let her cry it all out.

Just so she can't see how it affected me too.

Chapter 14: Herbs

Liska's worn herself out crying, but I'm still gently rocking her in my lap and stroking her hair to comfort her.

"You ok?" I ask, kissing the top of her head.

"I've never been so scared in my life," she says hoarsely. There's a wet spot on my chest where she was crying.

"No?"

"I was really scared when father sold me, and they... trained me in obedience. I was scared when master first bought Liska. But today was... that was worse," she says, burying her face in my chest again. She squeezes me tighter with her legs, still wrapped around my waist.

"Why's that?" I ask her gently.

"They kept saying what horrible things they were going to do to Liska. That was bad enough, but then master fought that man with a sword, and I was so scared for you."

She finally lifts her face, which is puffy and red from crying, and looks me in the eye, ears flattened to the sides in distress.

"I was so worried master would die."

"Well, I didn't. Everything's allright now," I tell her as I gently scratch the base of her tail.

"And then master had to fight another man, but there was that noise that hurt my ears, and his head popped like a rotten melon, and... I..."

She sobs again and buries her face back in my chest.

My poor little foxgirl is traumatized. She was threatened pretty graphically, she was afraid I'd be killed in front of her, and then she saw someone die a sudden, gory death. No wonder she's feeling a little broken.

"It's ok. It's over now. I wouldn't let anything happen to my Liska," I tell her with another kiss to the top of her head. "You're my special girl. I will never let anyone hurt my Liska."

She shudders, pressing her head into my chest again.

"Tell you what; why don't you make the rest of today a do nothing day? Just spend the rest of the day relaxing until you feel better. Would you like that?"

"I... I know it's too much for me to ask of master, but... Would you please hold me just a little longer?"

"Sure," I reply, stroking her hair softly. "I don't mind."

"You're such a kind master. Liska doesn't deserve you."

"Shhh," I shush her, still rocking her gently in my lap.

There's a quiet knock at the door.

"Master? May I come in?"

"Come on in, Ada."

The string at the door lifts the latch with a noisy wooden clack, and Ada peeks in for a moment, then steps inside and closes the door behind her. She walks over to the bed, then hesitates.

"Master? May I sit here?"

I nod, and she sits beside me. After a moment, she reaches over to Liska's tail, which is wrapped tightly around her, and gently strokes its fur.

"Are you ok?"

I can't tell if she's asking me or Liska. Probably Liska, since she's clearly more upset than I am. It's the first time she's used the word ok; it's odd the things you notice when you should be distracted from such little things.

"We're ok. Liska just got really scared earlier and is still a little upset. But everything's fine now."

Ada brushes her hair back nervously, then asks, "May Ada ask what happened?" Ah. Right. As a slave, it might not be any of her business; or at least, she shouldn't pester her master with questions. But she knows I'm not like most slave owners, so she feels safe asking me, if she does it right.

"Someone wanted to get rid of me, so he forced me into a duel. I won. Then I had to fight another guy, and I ended up killing that one."

"Oh," she says, clearly not knowing how to respond.

"Ok, sit up," I tell Liska. She obeys, clearly not wanting to do anything but stay pressed against me. I work her restraints off and unclip her leash, tossing them on the floor, then unlace my boots and drop them beside the bed. Ada hurries to put my boots beside the dresser, then picks up the leash and cloth restraints and stands there holding them.

I stretch out on the bed and pat my lap, and Liska climbs back on top of me, this time embracing me in a proper hug. I put one arm around her and stroke the back of her head with the other.

"Should I put these away, master?"

I nod to Ada, and she starts to leave the room, then pauses.

"I think lunch will be ready soon."

"Ok. Let me know when it is."

"Yes, master."

With one last look over her shoulder at us, Ada leaves the room, closing the door behind her again.

"I'm sorry you got so scared," I tell Liska gently, still stroking her hair. "It's ok now. You're safe. I'm safe. Everything's going to be allright."

"Uh-huh," she says with a shudder. She does seem to be calming down now. There's a good foxgirl. There's a cute foxgirl.

I manhandle her, picking her up and turning her around so she sits in my lap, then I start scratching her ears.

"You're a good girl. You're my special girl. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

I lift up her dress with my other hand and start rubbing up and down her bare slit; you know, her not wearing underwear really is convenient. She's only worn it during her period, and Ada apparently never gets those, so I don't see a need to invest in underwear for either of my girls. Ease of access is nice.

She turns to look at me over her shoulder, ears dipping down and flushing slightly.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"Would... would you like to make use of Liska now?"

"You want that?" I ask her.

She nods.

"Please... Please be rough with Liska. Please squish Liska under your body while you make use of her. I... I want to feel how big and strong master is."

Wow.

"You, uh, you like that?"

She nods again, feeling shy about admitting that to me. But she did sort of accidentally let the cat out of the bag before.

I place my index and middle finger roughly where her clit should be and start rubbing in circles. She makes a sharp intake of breath and leans back against me.

"Liska likes feeling small. I like how big and strong master is. I know master won't hurt Liska, so..."

She pauses, searching for words, then continues.

"It makes Liska feel safe, even though master is being rough with her. Liska can feel master's strength while he uses her body for his pleasure, but it's... controlled. He won't hurt Liska."

Is that how it is? I guess that sorta makes sense?

Her crotch is definitely starting to feel warmer and moister.

"I think I can oblige," I tell her.

Just then there's another tap at the door, and then the door opens, Ada peeking in.

"Master? Lunch is ready now."

I'm still vigorously diddling Liska's clit. My little foxgirl blushes intensely and hides her face behind her hands, but Ada doesn't seem to care about what we were doing. After all, I've had sex with both of them in the same bed, and they sleep together nude, so what does she care if I'm fingerbanging Liska? She's my foxgirl, I can do what I want with her. Hell, she's licked that clit.

"Ok. We'll be right down," I reply. Ada nods and backs out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Why don't we continue after lunch?" I tell Liska.

"Yes, master," she replies reluctantly.

I kiss her on the lips, then help her remove her stockings so she doesn't wear a hole in them kneeling on the floor.

Liska follows me downstairs to the kitchen table and I take my seat. She kneels beside me, and Ada and Macska serve up lunch.

Dumpling soup with no meat, just vegetables, some black bread, and the rest of the apple pie for desert. The dumplings are kinda spicy. Do they have paprika here? It's a New World spice, but surely they discovered the Americas, or their equivalent, by now.

Momma Cat says something in gibberish, and Liska translates.

"Macska says that Mushuk apologizes for touching your sword; he knows slaves are forbidden to touch weapons, but he didn't think you wanted to leave it in the wagon and placed it by the door for you."

"That's fine," I say. Momma seems apprehensive; is touching a weapon so forbidden for slaves that he could be punished just for doing me a favor? Yeah, probably.

After I seem ok with that, Momma Cat relaxes a little, then continues.

"She also says it's necessary to go into town for more groceries. She understands if master is tired or angry and doesn't want to go into town again today though."

I really don't.

"Would you like to go into town and do your own shopping?" I ask.

Momma Cat seems surprised upon hearing the translation, and Liska gets a nervous look on her face.

"Master... it's usually not a good idea to send a slave off on an errand until you know for sure that they're trustworthy. If they run away or get into trouble, it would be... inconvenient, for master. You've only owned Macska and Mushuk for a short time, and if they go together..."

"Do you think they'll run away?" I ask, blowing on a dumpling to cool it.

"No... but the possibility exists," she says, still looking unhappy.

I look at Momma Cat and shrug.

"I trust them not to run off. Mushuk is earning money he can put toward buying their freedom; why throw that away by running away and getting into trouble?"

I set a handful of silver tarls on the table to pay for groceries.

"Tell her they have to be back in time to make dinner, but I'm otherwise trusting them to do what they want in town. Mushuk has two tarls of his own, they can spend that however they please."

Liska twitches her ears violently, then nods.

"They'll need a letter from you giving them permission to be out on their own unsupervised. Otherwise they would get into trouble."

"That's fine. Write one up for me and I'll sign it," I say. I can't read a single word in any language here, so I'm trusting Liska to write the correct thing.

Liska has proven herself to be loyal to me and concerned with my needs, perceiving things I had no idea existed. I trust her both not to screw me over with the letter/permission slip, and to know how to word it correctly.

Macska bows, then collects the money. Liska writes up the letter using a quill pen and ink pot she apparently purchased with the other household goods I told her to pick out, and then I sign it. Using a quill pen is... awkward. Hell, a fountain pen is awkward. Maybe I should invent the ballpoint pen too while I'm at it; how hard can it be?

Taking the letter and holding it carefully so the ink doesn't smudge, Macska bows again, picks up a tray with her lunch and Mushuk's on it, and rattles off a bunch of gibberish before heading out the door.

"She says thank you, and that Ada needs to remember to wash the dishes after she's done eating."

"You'll both wash the dishes," I say, popping a piece of bread in my mouth. It's not fair to just have Ada do all the work by herself.

Both girls nod without complaint, and continue shoveling food into their mouths. I think I'm starting to see why Momma Cat gives them smaller portions; it's not just that both girls are petite and therefore can't eat as much as a big guy like me, it's also that they eat like they're constantly starving. Probably because at one point they were. If she gave them big portions like mine, they'd inhale everything set in front of them and they'd start getting chubby. Household chores and sex can only burn off so many calories, after all. I don't want my girls to get fat. I want them to stay cute and skinny like they are.

Maybe I can teach them basic gymnastics to stay in shape? That'd make them more flexible too. Hmmmm...

After we finish off the apple pie, the girls collect the plates and start washing them and the pot Macska cooked in.

I glance out the window at Macska and Mushuk as they head off in the wagon, just in time to hear the girls raise their voices and start fussing.

"Girls," I say sharply.

That got their attention.

"Bend over the table."

They comply quickly, if unhappily.

"What's the problem?" I ask, really not wanting to deal with this shit right now.

Ada is unwilling to meet my eyes, but quietly says, "Liska is making me put away all the dishes, and I don't think it's fair, master."

"Liska?"

"I... I can't reach the cabinet, master."

Ada turns to look at Liska and retorts, "I can barely reach it too!"

"Well at least you can do it without hopping!"

"Girls!"

They both clamp their mouths shut and face forward.

"Do you want a spanking?"

I get a "no, master!" in stereo.

"Then how are you going to resolve this?"

Liska twists her ears back, tail twitching, and she looks at Ada.

C'mon. I'm not sure how smart Ada may or may not actually be, since she was literally taught nothing about how the world works, but I know my little fox is clever. Figure something out.

"Maybe... I could pass the dishes to Ada and she could put them in the cabinet?"

Ada nods.

"Give that a try," I say. It's basically exactly what they were doing before, but now Liska is passing the dishes to Ada as she puts them away, so it at least has the illusion that Ada isn't doing it all by herself.

"Yes, master."

"Yes, master."

They don't move from the table. I raise one eyebrow.

"Um... may we get up?" Liska asks.

"Yes."

They immediately launch themselves away from the table and have the dishes put away in record time.

"See how much faster it goes when you work together? Next time, instead of arguing, try that."

"Yes, master."

I lean back in my chair and sigh, then pat my lap. Liska hops into my lap immediately, bare feet dangling down but not quite reaching the floor, and I start scratching her ears. Ada kneels beside me and I rest my other hand on her head, gently stroking the side of her face.

"Well, girls... we've got the whole afternoon to burn, and I did decide the rest of today was a do nothing day for us. Why don't you girls run upstairs and get undressed? I'll be right up."

"Yes, master!"

"Yes, master!"

They take my turn of phrase literally and run up the stairs, Ada somehow managing to sound like a herd of elephants and Liska making a much quieter pitter-patter. I duck into the bathroom and take a piss, then refill the tank on the toilet.

Having a flushing toilet is great, since it means there's no stench and I don't have to empty a bucket- well, I wouldn't be the one emptying it, but whatever- but the water tank has to be refilled every time you flush. It's kind of annoying, but it's still more convenient than the alternative.

I wonder where it flushes to. There's no sewer system, and I'm not sure if a septic tank would work... I hope it doesn't flush straight into the stream the realtor lady said was on the property.

Vaguely disturbed by that little mystery, I head upstairs and find Ada already naked and waiting patiently while Liska gets her blouse off and hangs it in the wardrobe next to her dress.

"Oh, that reminds me. We need to have you try out your new dress, Ada."

"It's downstairs, master. Would you like me to-"

"No, that's fine," I interrupt. "We'll try it out later. For now, you girls need some exercise."

"Exercise?" Liska asks, head tilted to one side.

"Yep," I reply. "Let's go to the room next door."

That's right, girls! It's naked exercise time!

We head past the closet that a favored slave is supposed to sleep in and into what I suppose is a guest bedroom. It has no furniture, so it's perfect for our needs.

"Ok, Ada, you stand here, and Liska, you stand here," I tell them, spacing them apart. Then I stand to face them.

"First, we're going to stretch and flex."

Liska tilts her head adorably, Ada just looks confused.

"Do what I do."

I start with a few isometric exercises and stretches, with the girls awkwardly imitating me. Then I bend down to touch my toes, and slowly come back up, Ada and Liska watching me closely to make sure they're copying me correctly.

"Now we're going to do jumping jacks. Start like this, then do this," I demonstrate. Both girls start doing hilariously awkward jumping jacks; Ada's boobs are bouncing hypnotically, and Liska's tail is doing more bouncing than her firm little breasts.

I stop them after they start to show signs of strain.

"Ok. Ada, sit on the floor like this."

She obeys, and I kneel in front of her, holding her bare feet in my hands.

"Cross your arms over your chest. Slowly lay down, now sit back up. Good. That's how you do a situp. Do nine more."

Ten situps is good for a beginner. And I don't want the girls to be all muscular or anything, just slim and feminine.

Ada completes her last situp and I pat her on the head, praising her with, "Good girl! Now it's Liska's turn."

Liska gets down on the floor and I hold her dainty feet in place while she crosses her arms over her breasts and does her situps.

"Good job," I praise her too, patting her head as well. "Now we're going to do ten pushups."

I show them how to do girly pushups. They both struggle. That's ok, they've never done pushups before, and the objective isn't to increase their upper body strength, just keep them in shape.

"Good job, girls. Now we're going to do bicycle kicks."

"What kind of kicks?"

Oh, right. Whatever. I demonstrate, and they lay side by side and do bicycle kicks.

Ada turns her head to Liska and whispers, "Why are we doing this?"

"I think master doesn't want us getting fat," Liska whispers back.

"Oh."

They both giggle and continue doing bicycle kicks until I signal them to stop.

"Now let's see who can do a headstand the longest. Liska, we'll start with you."

My little foxgirl bends over on all fours, hands near the wall, and I grab her ankles and help her up into a handstand, heels against the wall.

"Ok, I'm letting go now."

Her arms are trembling, but she manages to stay up on her own.

"Now Ada," I say, grabbing her ankles and helping her up.

"I'm gonna let go now."

I step back and admire both my girls, upside down, Liska's tail dangling down behind her. They're both pretty shaky. Ada finally loses it and smacks her head into the floor, clutching it in pain and laughing. Liska gives up and drops back down to all fours, then sits up and examines Ada's head, joining her laughter.

"You ok?" I ask. Ada nods. I tousle her hair; she's a good sport.

"Good job, girls. Now hop in bed and let's do a different kind of exercise," I say with a grin.

"Race ya!" Liska says, already halfway to the door, tail streaming behind her like an orange banner. Ada squawks indignantly and runs to keep up. I follow at a much more sedate pace.

I step into the bedroom and they're both already on the bed, side by side. I undress and climb onto the bed, and Liska spreads her legs for me with a blush.

I shake my head and she looks confused.

"Get on your hands and knees. Point your rear at me," I tell her.

She rolls over onto all fours, looking over her shoulder at me, still confused.

Every time we've had sex, it's always been in the missionary position. She's got those cute little fox ears, and that cute fox tail, it's about time I introduced my precious little foxgirl to doggystyle.

I position myself behind her, lifting up her tail to lay along her back. I rub the tip of my dick up and down her soft, warm slit to find the sweet spot, then slide it in. I can't go in all at once, she's too tight for that; it takes several thrusts to get all the way in.

Then I grab her hips in each hand and begin thrusting.

"O-oh", she says. It's a new position, and I'm hitting different spots. It isn't long before she's panting, ducking her head as I drive into her from behind.

Ada sits beside us, knees drawn up to her chest, watching curiously. After a bit, she shifts over to watch me pounding Liska from behind, then gets a little bolder and lays on the bed, sticking her head underneath Liska to get a closer look at my penis driving in and out of Liska's clean snatch. She stays there, staring in fascination, while Liska pants and moans.

"It's just us, Liska," I tell her, breathing heavily myself. "Don't hide your voice."

She immediately cranks up both the volume and the pitch.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah-ha ha ha ha HA HA HA! Nnng! Ah, haaa!"

Oh shit, just the sound of her is enough to push me to the brink. Liska buries her face in the pillow, panting heavily, and I feel her pussy clamping down on my dick as she nears orgasm.

I hilt myself within her, gasping as I blow my load deep inside of her, and Liska shudders and moans as she reaches her climax too. Ada scrambles out from underneath us and sits up again, watching as we both struggle to catch our breaths.

I pull out and tug Liska down on top of me as I roll onto my back. I gesture for Ada, and she cleans me up with her mouth, then pat Liska on the thigh, prompting her to spread her legs so Ada can slurp up all the semen leaking out of her.

"Good girl," I tell Ada, stroking her hair as she goes to work. She's still making a face while she does it, but there wasn't any hesitation this time. I've got her properly trained.

Liska still turns red while Ada licks her crotch clean, but doesn't protest or struggle. I bend awkwardly to kiss the top of her head, tickling her ears in the process and making them twitch.

"How did you like that position?"

"I didn't... I didn't know you could do it like that," she says, still breathless.

"Oh, you can do it all kinds of ways," I chuckle. There's more than one position. I guess because we've only ever done it missionary-style, she thought that was the only way it could be done. Well, to be fair, she was a virgin a week ago, and it's not like they have the internet around here.

"Did you like it better that way, or the other way?" I ask her.

Liska ponders for a moment, then shrugs.

"It feels good either way, but..."

Ada sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, signaling that she's done; Liska scoots up in my lap and whispers in my ear, "I like it when master squishes Liska and Liska can't move."

So she prefers me on top of her. Gotcha.

I pat the bed beside me and Ada spoons up to me, and I squeeze both my girls together in a hug. A threesome was always an unattainable dream back home, but here I can do it every day if I want.

I lightly run my fingertips down Ada's breasts, down her stomach, to her slit, and back.

"So... even though you're human, I can't get you pregnant?"

"That's right, master," she confirms.

"Why is that?" I ask. I've heard mention of some sort of medicine that prevents pregnancy, but is it like normal birth control pills? How often do you have to take it?

"As soon as I was selected to be a sex slave, they gave me the alchemist's herbs so I wouldn't have monthly flow or have a baby."

"How does it work?"

Ada shifts uncomfortably, moving her hands to rest on her abdomen below her belly button.

"It's a special blend of herbs, only the alchemists know which ones. You take it in larger and larger doses for several days, until you feel really sick and start throwing up. A lot. Then you get really bad cramps, and you start bleeding like your monthly flow, but worse."

She gives me an apologetic look.

"Ada only had her monthly flow once before the alchemist's herbs, so I don't have much of a comparison. But it was definitely worse. It felt like I was going to die. Some girls did die; they got a fever, or the bleeding didn't stop and they got too weak. But most of us lived, and once it was over, our wombs were barren. None of us will ever again have monthly flow, so we will always be available to our masters, and there is no worry about our masters impregnating us."

That... sounds horrific.

"How, uh, how many girls died from it?"

"Four or five."

"How many did they give the herbs to?" I ask.

Ada shrugs, looking as if she feels stupid.

"Ada cannot count that high, master."

Oh. Right. Why would a sex slave need to learn even basic math? Still, my curious mind wants to know.

"How high can you count?"

She shifts uncomfortably, still looking as if she feels stupid, and then begins counting on her fingers. Then she wiggles her toes and counts those too.

She can only count to twenty?

"Do you know what comes after that?"

She slows down, but manages to get to twenty-nine before she stops.

"And what comes after that?" I ask.

She shrugs helplessly, an embarassed look on her face. Yeah, she feels stupid now.

"Thirty."

"Thirty?" she says.

"Uh-huh. Keep counting."

She doesn't know the name for the tens, forty, fifty, and so on, but once I provide it to her she can count just fine. Liska compliments her for how well she can count, making Ada smile shyly, and she eventually makes it to one hundred.

"Good job," I tell her, giving her a hug. She beams at me.

"I've never counted so high before!"

"Well, you never needed to before, so it's understandable," I tell her, trying to instill more confidence in her.

"So now that you can count to a hundred, how many girls do you think they gave the herbs to?"

"A hundred," she replies immediately.

I'm not sure if she means that literally, or if that's simply the biggest number she can think of now. Probably a little of both. But assuming there were around a hundred sex slaves in training- and I'm assuming that training mostly consisted of obedience lessons, because she doesn't know much about sex, or anything else for that matter- and four or five died from these alchemist's herbs, that's about a 5% loss rate.

"Do they always have several girls die from taking the herbs?" I ask.

"I don't know. I think so? Nobody seemed surprised when they did. I heard one of the handlers say there weren't too many this time."

Great. So they expected some to die as a result, and it's apparently not uncommon for more of them to die. We could be looking at loss rates of 10% then, if 5% isn't 'too many'.

That could actually be part of why sex slaves are so expensive. If only the alchemists know the proprietary blend of eleven herbs and spices that make a girl impossible to impregnate, they can probably charge whatever they want for it. Then you factor in that only the prettiest girls would be selected as sex slaves, which already jacks up the price, and the fact that the slave merchants would need to recoup their losses from the girls who die taking the herbs, and Ada costing around fourteen or fifteen times what an ordinary household slave costs suddenly starts to make sense.

If an attractive girl cost ten times as much as a male field hand in ancient Rome, add the cost of whatever the alchemists charge for their 'medicine' and having to compensate for losing several girls each time, and increasing the price by half again isn't out of the question.

"What do they do with the girls who die?" I ask.

Ada shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

"They take them away."

Probably dump them in a mass grave nearby. Historically, that was a common feature of medieval slave markets. The word slave derives from Slav, the eastern European peoples who were most commonly enslaved throughout antiquity and the Middle Ages. In fact, Nordic and Slavic europeans were enslaved more than any other group of people in history. Once Muhammed and his followers began a blitzkrieg through the Arabian Peninsula, then spread throughout the rest of the Middle East and North Africa, both converting by the sword and carrying out ethnic cleansing of the non-Arabs who dominated those regions (which is why modern Egyptians are Arabic and speak Arabic, whereas prior to the expansion of Islam in the 8th century AD they were ethnically more closely related to the ancient Greeks and primarily spoke Greek or Latin), completely dominating what had once been an ethnically and religiously diverse region of the world. Prior to the expansion of Islam, eunuchs were fairly uncommon in antiquity; one that was mentioned in the New Testament was from Ethiopia. Eunuchs primarily existed for two reasons: one, to safeguard their owner's harem without the possibility of having sex with their owner's concubines behind his back, and two, to humiliate a defeated enemy and end his bloodline so he wouldn't have any descendants who could come back and threaten you. The Greeks, Romans, and other Europeans weren't big on harems as such, and they tended to take the pragmatic step of simply killing defeated enemies rather than keep them around, so eunuchs were fairly uncommon in Europe. In Africa, the Middle East, and China, where wealthy and powerful men had enormous harems of dozens, even hundreds, of concubines, eunuchs were much more common.

In the Islamic world, however, eunuchs were in incredibly high demand. At first, just to guard harems, but then as status symbols. I guess sort of in the same way that owning a sex slave here is a way to show off your wealth and influence. Eunuchs were in massive demand in the Muslim world, to the point that between 75 and 90% of Europeans captured and sold into slavery were made into eunuchs and sold to Muslims.

Simple castration consists of cutting off the testicles; this makes it impossible for a man to reproduce, though not impossible to have sex (though it is difficult), reduces aggression, and has a number of other physiological and psychological effects. But Muslims wanted their eunuchs to be more... thoroughly, castrated. The usual method was to slice off the testicles and penis in a single, large cut, pack the wound with hot sand heated over a fire, and leave the man bound and immobilized until the wound healed. Anesthesia didn't exist then either. Neither did antibiotics. Muslim religious law produced high demand for eunuchs, but forbid them to castrate slaves themselves. Christian law, filling in the void after the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, also forbade castrating slaves. So Jews, who were already heavily involved in the international slave trade thanks to their connections to the financial world, and to whom the religious laws of neither Christians nor Muslims applied, stepped in to fill the void. Jews became the primary intermedaries selling slaves captured in Europe to Muslims in the Middle East, North Africa, and Anatolia (modern day Turkey; the Turks are a central Asian people who were originally Buddhist, then got conquered by the Arabs and drafted as shock troops for their invasion of the Eastern Roman Empire, more often known as the Byzantine Empire today; once they conquered the last vestiges of the Roman Empire, they took it over for themselves, conquered their Arabic conquerors, and formed the Ottoman Empire, which was the dominant force in the Muslim world for centuries until the World Wars brought about their collapse as a major power.). Jews would purchase slaves captured throughout Europe, but primarily in pagan regions to the far north and far east into Russia, where Christian laws didn't protect them, castrate them en masse, and sell them to Muslim merchants heading to Turkey or the Barbary Coast. About a third of all men and boys castrated this way died of infection or blood loss. One of the easiest ways for archaeologists to identify the Jewish quarter of a trade city, and the slave market in particular, is the mass grave from all the men who died after being castrated.

As a result of castrating most of their male slaves (meaning they weren't breeding more slaves) and a third of them dying after getting their dicks and balls sliced off in unsanitary conditions, Muslim demand for the capture of more slaves continued to grow incessantly until the various European powers developed technology and military tactics to the point that they collectively told the Muslims to fuck off. The very first overseas action by the US military was sending ships to the Barbary Coast, modern day Libya, to shell them with cannon and demand they stop their pirate raids on American ships and stop enslaving Americans. That's why the Marine Corps anthem mentions 'the shores of Tripoli'. Muslims switched over to mostly African slaves once Europeans had enough firepower to retaliate, but Turkey still had white slaves as late as the 1920's. Today, Muslim Africa has more black slaves than ever existed in all of American history, and Saudi Arabia still practices slavery, including the same demand for eunuchs. Israel is the human trafficking center of the world, mostly specializing in women and children from Eastern Europe. So really, the only thing that's changed over the centuries is that whites abolished slavery, and the rest of the world pretends to play along so they don't get invaded for human rights abuses.

So, there must be something similar at work in this world, except instead of men being made into eunuchs, it's women. The demand seems to be lower, since it only applies to high-value sex slaves, and if the fatality rate is 10% or lower, that's better than 33% or higher. But that still means a lot of innocent girls dying what sounds like a thoroughly miserable death, just to satisfy a demand for sex slaves who can't get pregnant.

You know, I might benefit from it, but maybe the institution of slavery really is a barbaric practice. Granted, it's one that every single culture around the world has practiced for just about all of human history, starting in the stone age and only stopping when the anomaly of Western civilization decided it was wrong and enforced that opinion at gunpoint. But still, it's a barbaric practice. One that I'm participating in.

I hug both my girls to me, drinking in their beautiful, naked bodies. I wouldn't give them up for anything. Especially Liska.

Fine. If that makes me a hypocrite, so be it. I can live with a twinge of guilt while living the good life and owning people as property. Sexy property. Very sexy property, I think, stroking Ada's belly with my fingertips.

"So long story short, I can't get you pregnant, and you never have your period. Right?"

She nods.

"Well then..."

I grab her by the ankles and lift her legs up, spreading them apart. Ada smiles nervously; it's only her second time, after all.

I slide into her easier than I did into Liska; Ada is still nice and tight, but Liska is just... woof. I wrap my arms around Ada, and she wraps hers around mine, then, after some hesitation, imitates what she's seen Liska do once or twice and wraps her legs around me as well.

"Attagirl," I tell her.

It's my second wind, and Ada is both still unused to sex and probably wouldn't enjoy it rough like Liska, so I take things slow and gentle. Liska lays on her side beside us, watching with a smile.

Ada starts breathing heavily, clearly starting to get into it.

"How is it?" I ask. "Better than the first time?"

She nods.

"It's a little uncomfortable, but it mostly just feels good, master."

I kiss her forehead and reply, "I'm glad. I like it when my girls enjoy themselves."

I pick up the pace and Ada starts gasping and moaning. Yeah, she's definitely enjoying it.

Liska gets up on her knees beside us and leans over me, massaging my back and shoulders. Ooh, hey! Sex AND a massage? You know what, I'm all in favor of slavery now. Screw feeling guilty, this is amazing.

Hmm. A thought occurs to me.

"Ada? Can you try clenching your, uh, sheath?"

She considers it for a moment, then clearly makes a conscious effort to do so. I can feel her get tighter for a second.

"Like that?"

"Yeah. See if you can keep doing that."

It seems to take effort, but she's able to clench down on me over and over, just for a second or two each time. Obviously she's never exercised those muscles before.

Well, she'll get to practice some more.

"Good girl," I tell her breathlessly. Liska kneads the muscles on my back, avoiding Ada's arms and legs wrapped around me. I wonder where she learned to massage like that? She's pretty good.

Ada gets an odd look on her face and starts breathing faster. I pick up the pace and she clenches her teeth, squeezes her eyes shut, and... there we go. That pushed her over the edge. She suddenly clamps down on my cock and shudders, then opens her eyes and mouth with a gasp, like she sees stars.

That's enough to finish me off too. After a few more strokes, I bury myself as deep within her as I can and fill her barren womb with my seed.

Breathing heavily into each other's faces, we pant for air. Liska stops massaging my back and sits back on her heels, observing us. I finally pull out and lay down beside Ada.

"Master?"

I nod. Liska takes me into her mouth and sucks me clean, then, red-faced, moves to lick Ada clean as well.

"There's a good girl," I tell her, reaching down to stroke her hair. She really is a good girl. The best girl. I've got them both well trained now.

It isn't long before Liska sits up, wiping her mouth with her fingertips. I pat the bed beside me and she climbs over me to snuggle up against my side, and I pull Ada closer to me on my other side.

Aaaaah. This is the life. I like my girls. It'd be nice to stay like this forever.

"Master?"

"Yes, Ada?"

"Um... would you please read us more of that story?"

Liska nods, ears perked up at attention, tail wagging ever so slightly.

"Sure. Pass it here."

My girls lay against me, listening intently, as I continue reading them the adventures of Bilbo Baggins. We get another chapter into the story when we hear the door downstairs open and someone bustling about. I nudge Ada and say, "Go see if Macska needs help."

She nods and hops out of bed, not even bothering to put clothes on as she runs downstairs. She left the door open too. Liska gets up and shuts it, then when I start getting dressed she pads over to the wardrobe and begins dressing as well.

"What would you like to do this evening, master?"

"Well, unless Macska needs you girls to help with dinner, I was planning to read you some more of that story. Maybe let you listen to some more music, since you've both been good girls today. Other than that, I don't have any plans."

She nods, carrying my boots over and helping me put them on and lace them.

"That would be nice; thank you, master."

She stands up and gives me a peck on the cheek; that's the first time she's ever kissed me on her own initiative.

"You're such a kind master. We're very fortunate that you bought us and not someone else."

I pat her head affectionately, then open my arms, inviting her in for a hug. She obliges, hugging me as tight as she can, and I squeeze her in a big bearhug.

"I'm glad I bought you too. Especially you," I say, kissing the top of her head and then nibbling gently on the black tip of her ear. "You're my special girl."

She snuggles against me, rubbing her cheek against my chest with a smile.

"I like being your special girl. I like being your little Liska."

I squeeze her tight again, then say, "Why don't we head downstairs?"

"Yes, master."

Chapter 15: Storm

The next morning I wake up to the ringing of the bell. Momma Cat is ready to come in and start breakfast.

"Liska. Up and at 'em."

"Mmph?"

"Go let Macska in."

"Uh. Yes, master."

She crawls out of bed sleepily, pulls her old tunic out of the wardrobe and slips into it, then heads out the door, yawning. I can hear her unlock the front door and let Macska in, the two exchange pleasantries in gibberish, and the clatter of Macska moving pots and pans around in the kitchen. Liska pads into the room rubbing her eyes, shuts the door behind her, pulls the tunic over her head and tosses it back in the wardrobe, and crawls back under the covers, snuggling up against me. Ada hasn't stirred the entire time.

I roll onto my side and spoon Liska up against me and doze off again.

When I awaken again, I check my watch. The glowing hands indicate I woke up about ten minutes later than usual. It should be getting light outside soon; why is it so dark?

I sit up, pull back the blanket, causing Liska to sleepily protest as she curls into a tighter ball around her tail and Soft Pig, and carefully climb over her. Walking over to the window, I work the lever to open the shutters... and it isn't any lighter in the room. What the-

Pulling the window open, I stick my head outside. It smells like rain, and there's a strong wind starting to pick up. In the distance, there's a quiet rumble.

I guess today's weather forecast is rain. Maybe even a thunderstorm. I hope it's gone in time for the party at the duke's place. Actually, considering that I live on a dirt road outside of the city, I hope it's gone in time for the road to dry up. I don't know how navigable the road will be if it turns to mud; the wagon might get stuck. If it rains hard enough, for long enough, I could conceivably be stranded in my own home due to the poor road conditions.

Which raises another question: who's responsible for maintaining that road? Does the city do it? Am I expected to do it? I don't know.

Dammit. More things I need to find out so I understand how this world I'm trapped in works. Instead of sitting comfortably at home with my girls, I need to be learning how this world works so I can survive in it. What I don't know or understand can get me killed, as yesterday proved when I got in a sword fight and then blew a guy's brains out. Hopefully I never have to do that again, but I had three different people, two of whom had never met me before, who were willing to kill me just because I stood out. I need to be figuring things out so I avoid more issues like that, and so I can survive in a world that's missing a lot of the conveniences I'm used to. Like firefighters. Or police who don't haul someone off and sell them into slavery without so much as a trial. Or not dying from the frigging plague.

Even basic things like where the toilet drains to or who maintains the road are beyond me at the moment. I need more information.

Well, I do have a tutor, and I bought her for just that purpose, after all. Among other reasons.

I return to bed, carefully avoid squashing my adorable foxgirl, and pull the covers back over the three of us.

I'm going to have to arrange a day where I can just sit down with Liska and pump her for information again. Today's a bad day for it, since I have to go into town to pick up Ada's shoes, and maybe check in with the smith guy to see how his attempt to reproduce a lighter is coming along, and figure out what I need to do to be ready for a party at a duke's place. I'm pretty sure my t-shirt and cargo pants ensemble is considered underdressed when partying with a duke; then again, I'm a foreigner and everyone seems to think I'm some kind of lord, so maybe they'll assume I'm wearing my country's version of formal wear.

Shit. I don't even know where the duke lives. I didn't even ask him.

Dammit.

Ah, whatever. I've been incredibly lucky so far, maybe I can ask a random bypasser and they'll know.

I nestle back under the blanket and cuddle Liska to me, enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees outside, the cool breeze coming into the room, and the distant rumble of thunder.

Later. I can worry about all that later. I yawn and lay my head on the pillow again.

Breakfast should be ready soon. I can't afford to be lazy and go back to sleep.

I roll over, reach over Ada, and fumble around on the nightstand for my Zippo. Flicking it open, I awkwardly lean over Ada so I don't fall on top of her, lift up the glass mantle for the lantern, and light the wick. When I lay back down, her eyes are open and looking at me.

"Good morning, master."

"Good morning, Ada. C'mere and give me a kiss."

She moves to meet my embrace, and I kiss her full on the lips. Hmm. She still isn't kissing back; I'm gonna have to teach her, I suppose. Her lips part when my tongue presses against them, and our tongues intertwine in her mouth for a long moment before I break off. She smiles and lays her head on my chest. I turn and say, "Good morning, Liska."

"Mmm, good morning, master."

She sits up and rubs her eyes, red hair sticking in all directions. I pucker my lips and she leans in, kissing me back. Attagirl! I place my hand on the back of her head and shove my tongue into her mouth, wiggling it around. Once again, she just accepts it passively. Hmm.

I break off, and say, "Now the two of you do that with each other."

The girls giggle awkwardly, then lean over me to lock lips and exchange tongues. Interesting that Liska never puts her tongue in my mouth, but does in Ada's.

Good girls. Sexy girls.

They break off the French kiss and both look at me for approval.

"That's good, girls. But you need a little more practice. Try it again."

Ada grabs Liska's head with both hands and forces her tongue into my little foxgirl's mouth; Liska's eyes widen and she tries to pull back in surprise, then relents and swaps tongues with Ada again. I get a genuine chuckle out of it.

"How's that, master?"

"That's great," I say, tousling Ada's hair. Liska makes a pouty face and I pat her head too, earning a smile.

"How do you girls like kissing each other?" I ask.

"It's a little weird," Liska admits awkwardly, batting her ears. Ada nods, still smiling.

"Ok," I say. "Well now that you've gotten to practice that, let's take it another step. Now you're going to use your mouths to make master feel good."

I pull the blankets down to expose my already erect penis and pat my thighs with each hand. Both girls look to be a combination of embarassed and disappointed, but move down to lay across my legs without complaint.

"Liska, you've got more practice, so show Ada what to do again."

Liska takes my penis in her hand, brushes her hair back out of the way, and then tentatively lowers her mouth onto my dick and begins bobbing her head up and down. Ada looks slightly grossed out, but is focused on watching Liska's technique. After a minute or so, Liska stops, wiping her mouth with her fingertips, and gestures for Ada to take her turn.

Ada leans over me and takes me into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down like Liska. I reach down and stroke both girls' hair.

"When I finish," I tell them, "I want Liska to catch it all in her mouth, but don't swallow, ok? Just hold it in your mouth."

"Yes, master," she says quietly. Ada continues sucking me off, not having anything to say.

The girls continue taking turns sucking my dick, with Ada at one point pausing to spit out a hair, and it isn't long before I'm nearing the end.

"Ok, Liska, get ready."

Ada spits my dick out and sits up, and Liska takes over. Yeah, this is it...

I stop Liska so she has just the head of my dick in her mouth and hold her head in place with one hand, and jerk off with the other. Stay on target... stay on target... There!

I cum into my cute foxgirl's little mouth again and again, filling it up, while she makes a face. You'll learn to like it, little fox. Or at least get used to it.

I finally stop ejaculating, and tell her, "ok, keep your lips shut so you don't spill any," as I pull out of her mouth. She's obedient.

"Sit up," I tell her as I move into a seated position, indian-style. She sits up in a kneeling position, still making a face.

"Open your mouth and let me see, but don't spill any."

She opens her mouth, showing her tongue and teeth thoroughly coated in thick, white slime. Hnnng! Liska, you're gonna give me a heart attack!

"Good girl. Close your mouth, but don't swallow."

Turning to Ada, I grin and say, "Now, remember how you girls practiced kissing earlier?"

Ada immediately realizes where I'm going with this and makes an expression like she's about to say 'ick', but nods and leans forward. Holding Liska's head with both hands, Ada leans forward, presses her lips to Liska's, and inserts her tongue. Both girls swirl their tongues around together, and my shrinking penis suddenly begins returning to full strength.

"Ok girls, now look over here, open your mouths, and let me see."

They comply, and I get a good view of slimy seed and spit thoroughly coating the inside of both their mouths.

"Good girls. Now swallow, then let me see again."

They both swallow audibly, then open their mouths and stick out their tongues to show that it's all gone. Hot damn!

I grab them both in my arms and hug their boobs against my chest, pulling them down with me as I lay back down.

"Good job. That's exactly what master wants."

They both give me shy smiles, snuggling against me.

The wind outside has picked up, and the rumble of thunder is getting closer. I kiss Liska on the forehead, tickling her ears and making them twitch, then kiss Ada on her forehead.

"Why don't you girls get dressed? I want to see Ada in her new dress."

"Yes, master."

"Yes, master."

They hop out of bed and to the wardrobe, Liska wagging her tail as she begins dressing and Ada bouncing in excitement like a kid with a new toy. Prior to letting her wear that ratty old tunic of Liska's once or twice, she's never worn clothes before, and she's excited to have a pretty outfit like Liska's.

I sit up and begin dressing myself, watching my girls. Liska dons first her blouse, then her garter belt, and pulls her dress over her head, Ada assisting her in getting her tail through the hole in the back. Then Ada stands there passively while Liska dresses her, since Ada doesn't exactly know how to dress herself yet. Liska dresses her in the same order she dressed herself, then stands back to admire her work.

"Very pretty!" she announces. Ada grins, then turns to me for my opinion.

"Very pretty indeed!" I agree. Ada blushes slightly, feeling the fabric between her fingertips and looking at her dress admiringly.

"This is the first time I've worn real clothes," she says. "It feels so strange! But at least this doesn't rub my nipples raw like the tunic does."

"Told you you'd like the clothes master got you," Liska says cheerfully as she begins running a brush through Ada's hair. Once they finish, they swap places, Ada brushing her hair, then Liska shyly presents her tail to me for brushing. It doesn't need it, but I'm more than happy to brush her luxuriously soft fur anyway.

"Master? May I try on my stockings too?"

"After breakfast," I tell her. "We don't want to wear a hole in them while you're kneeling on the floor."

"Ok," she replies. That's her second use of the word. She's catching on. Liska beams at her and stands on her tiptoes to pat her on the head, earning an odd look from Ada. I chuckle and pat them both on the head, then lead them downstairs for breakfast.

Momma Cat is grinning broadly, flicking her remaining ear, and rattles off something long but grandmotherly sounding in gibberish as she spots the girls in their nearly identical outfits; except for the darker shade of blue and the hole for her tail, Liska's dress is the same as Ada's, just as intended.

"Macska says you look very pretty in your new dress, Ada," Liska translates. "And she says the two of us together make a cute picture."

Ada smiles at the compliment and rubs one foot on top of the other shyly; I guess she's used to Momma Cat being more stern with her.

I sit at the table and Liska kneels beside me at her usual place. Ada starts to see if there's anything she needs to do in the kitchen, but is shooed away by Momma Cat and kneels on the floor next to Liska.

"Macska says you shouldn't get your new dress dirty. Just let her do the work for today."

Ada nods, clearly feeling a little offput by the sudden treatment thanks to her new outfit. She runs her hands down the length of her dress admiringly again, rubbing the fabric between her fingertips.

"Ada has never been allowed to wear such a thing," she says.

"Liska has never worn such nice clothes before either; master is a good master."

Ada suddenly starts crying. Liska looks momentarily surprised, then has the look of someone who understands completely and embraces her 'little sister' in a hug.

Ada is sobbing in between words, making it difficult for her to talk.

"I- I don't- this..."

"Shhh," Liska says, hugging her tighter. "I know. We're very lucky to have such a good master, aren't we."

"I've never- it's..."

I get out of my chair and kneel down beside them, eliciting a surprised look from Ada, and I hug the two of them together.

"It's ok, Ada."

"But- but why?"

"Because you're a good girl," I tell her, gently kissing the top of her head. "You're both good girls. And I like my girls. You deserve nice things."

Ada is crying even harder now, with Liska patting her on the back.

"But I'm not... I'm not worth..."

"Hush. Don't say that," I tell her. "Just because I own you doesn't mean you're just property. You're Ada. You're a good girl. And I'm your master. I take care of what I own. And if I give you something nice, it's because I think you're worth it."

Ada buries her face in the top of Liska's head and wails, but that seems to have been what she needed. After that, she hiccups a few times and sits up, smearing the tears and snot on her face around with her hands. Liska smiles at her and wipes her face off with a napkin from the table, then gives her another hug and a peck on the cheek.

"I told you we have a good master."

Ada nods, then turns to me and says, "Th-thank you!", her voice cracking. I pat her on the head again.

"Ready for breakfast?" I ask.

"Uh-huh."

I stand up and take my seat again. Macska is giving me a funny look, then sets a pan on the table and graces all three of us with a smile. Then she walks around the table and chucks Ada's chin affectionately before returning to the kitchen.

Breakfast is quiche with a side of bacon, and a small pancake each, covered in butter and honey. Yum.

The girls have devoured theirs in record time while I take my time and enjoy it. They're both staring at me with puppy dog eyes; Liska pulls it off better, partly because she has such expressive ears to go with it, and partly because she's just that little bit cuter.

"You can have seconds, but just a small portion," I tell them.

"Thank you, master!"

"Thank you, master!"

They both reach for the quiche and Liska slaps Ada's hand away, cuts two small slices, and serves first hers, then Ada's. Both slices are gone in seconds and the girls are sitting on their heels with contented smiles, rubbing their bellies.

Macska looks out the kitchen window and says something I'm pretty sure is profane.

"Master? Macska would like to take breakfast to Mushuk before it starts raining. She says it's going to be a very heavy rain."

"That's fine. Oh, we don't have rain gear, do we?" I have a rain coat in my backpack, but that's it.

Liska sticks her modest chest out proudly and says, "Liska bought two rain cloaks to go with the household goods. But, um, just two," she says, deflating slightly, her ears sagging. "Master only owned Liska at the time, so..."

"That's ok. Macska can go ahead and take breakfast to Mushuk; they can both stay in their house for as long as it rains. I don't expect either of them to go through the rain and get soaked," I say. I wonder if cat people hate getting wet as much as cats do?

Momma Cat says something that sounds concerned.

"It will probably rain all day. If she goes to the little house now, she'll be stuck there if master doesn't want her in the rain. What about lunch?"

"Liska can cook," I reply. Liska translates, then adds something that's probably self-deprecating. Her cooking really is basic, but it's not bad. Macska harrumphs, says something back to Liska in a scolding tone, and begins arranging things on the counter next to the stove.

"What did she say?" I ask.

"She said I may not be as good a cook as her, but I needn't talk bad about myself."

"You do a good job," I tell her, reaching out to pat her head. She smiles, but clearly doesn't believe it.

Macska spits more gibberish at Liska, then grabs the rest of the quiche, bacon, and pancakes and runs for the guest house, spitting more of what sound like obscenities as she doesn't quite make it before the rain arrives. Mushuk runs from the barn to the guest house and joins her, shutting the door just as the rain picks up really hard.

"Well girls, do the dishes and sweep the kitchen up. I'll be on the porch."

A duet of "yes, master" greets my ears, and the girls begin tidying up. I carry my chair out onto the porch, shut the kitchen door behind me, and sit down to enjoy the rain.

Assuming I'm not stranded here because of the rain, today looks to be off to a pretty good start.

Chapter 16: Foxkin

I sit on the porch, watching and listening to the rain. I always did enjoy the rain. Man, it's really coming down hard. I hope the road is passable.

Hmmm. A cup of coffee would be perfect right about now. I have the instant coffee I brought camping in my backpack, I could just have the girls heat me some water...

The door opens with the wooden clack of the latch, then shuts again as Liska steps out onto the porch, smiling at me.

"The dishes are clean and put away, master. And I restocked the stove with wood for lunch."

"Good girl," I tell her, reaching out and petting her between her ears. "Where's Ada?"

"Sweeping. She agreed to sweep if I built the fire."

I nod. It's good that they're dividing chores instead of fighting over them. Though it did take several spankings over the course of just a couple days for them to get that drummed into their heads.

I reach down to stroke the soft, luxurious fur of Liska's tail and she flicks it over where I can reach it easier, smiling at me again.

"I like your tail," I tell her, running my fingers through her orange fur, from the base of her tail to its black tip.

"I'm glad master likes it," she replies, stepping closer.

"Why did you want to hide it?" I ask.

"Because... a lot of people don't like foxkin in general, and women don't like vixens in particular."

"Why not?"

"Foxkin are seen as outsiders. We originally came from the east. My family has lived in the Kingdom of Broheim for twelve generations, and the Principality of Ossetria for eight, but some still view us as... other than Brohemians. We stand out."

She brushes her hair back and flicks one ear, and I pat my lap. She perches herself there and I continue stroking her lovely tail.

"When foxkin first arrived in Broheim, they were mostly pagans. The Church declared us, and other beastkin, to be unclean. They said our ears, tails, and fur were marks of the devil, that our ancestors had consorted with animals and tainted our bloodlines forever. They said the fact that most of us couldn't breed with humans was proof we were less than human. That was actually one of the issues that led to the Great Schism, one of many issues really, but a big one. Half the church said that a gods-fearing beastkin was as good as a gods-fearing human, and those of us who renounced paganism and professed the faith should be allowed to join the church. Rather than wage a holy war against 'heretics' and 'blasphemers', the King declared himself the Chief Defender of the Faith for two churches, the Orthodox and the Reform."

Liska shifts her rear to let me scratch the base of her tail, then continues.

"Of course, both churches today officially allow beastkin among their members, but the two churches don't really get along to this day, since they disagree on a number of other issues, and many members of the Orthodox church are still prejudiced against beastkin. Even some followers of the Reform church dislike beastkin, but most beastkin are members of the Reform church, for obvious reasons."

My other hand reaches up to her ears and she tilts her head, leaning into me as I scratch them.

"And women in particular dislike vixens."

"Why is that?"

"Foxkin aren't very numerous compared to other beastkin, and we're especially rare here in the west. In Broheim, we number only a few thousand. Partly because we've been scattered because of multiple wars in the past, and partly because we have such low birthrates compared to humans. I have two younger brothers, but the average human peasant has between six and ten children."

"I- really? That many?"

She nods.

"Of course. You need a large family to look after a farm, after all. And not all of those children will live to adulthood. Many die of fever when they're very young," she says, brushing her hair out of her face again as the wind blows it about. "My mother told me I had an older sister before I was born, but she died. Father didn't like to talk about it. Mother hoped it would make him more fond of me, less inclined to sell me off if his gambling got him in too much debt, but..."

She shrugs, then closes her eyes and mewls happily as I scratch just the right spot, causing her left leg to spasm. It's good to see that involuntarily reaction of hers doesn't embarass her anymore.

"So foxkin are quite rare here, making us desirable as slaves. Foxmen aren't very good as field hands or laborers, since they don't have the strength or endurance of humans, so no one really wants one for a slave, but vixens are in high demand. We're rare and exotic. The prettiest are sold as sex slaves since they can get more money for us, and don't have to use the alchemist's herbs to prevent us getting pregnant. The rest are sold as domestic slaves to work in the house; maids, cooks, that sort of thing. Many wives don't like their husband having sex slaves; they get jealous. So some will forbid their husband from having sex slaves, particularly if their husband is marrying up into her family. But they can't forbid her husband from buying a housemaid, and if she happens to be a pretty, young vixen who can't embarass the lady of the house by getting pregnant when her husband is the only man around, they have little choice but to grit their teeth and tolerate it. The maid certainly can't complain if her master pulls her into a closet for a few minutes, when no one is looking. So a lot of women, particularly upper-class women, don't like vixens. They see us as vile temptresses who seduce their husbands and lead them into infidelity, even though the Church and law don't see having sex with a slave you own as being unfaithful to your wife."

"I see."

"And of course, you get misconceptions about us from people who've never seen a foxkin. Like Ada; she was told foxkin are furry all over, and we're dirty and smelly. I am quite clean, thank you!" she says primly, flicking her ears.

"Indeed you are," I tell her, not mentioning how filthy she was when I first bought her. It's not like that was her fault, of course. Bathing doesn't seem to be something they allow slaves to do often. And she is pretty picky about staying clean.

I remove my hand from her tail and lift her dress up with it, feeling up and down her soft, smooth lips between her legs.

"And you're not furry all over, either," I tell her. She smiles shyly, then spreads her legs further and leans back against me. I start rubbing in circles around her clit and she starts breathing heavily, tail flicking beside me. There's a good foxgirl. There's a cute foxgirl.

The door opens with a clatter as Ada steps out onto the porch, and Liska snaps her legs shut with a "YEEP!", her tail poofing up like a bottle brush. I give her a look and gently wiggle my hand that's now pinched between her thighs. She's red in the face, but relaxes and spreads her legs again so I can resume the heavy petting.

There's a good foxgirl. It's just Ada, no need to be shy.

Ada, for her part, merely glances down at Liska's crotch to see what we're doing, then immediately doesn't care. Again, her attitude seems to be that Liska is my foxgirl and I can do what I want with her, when I want.

"I've never seen rain before," she says, ducking her head to peer out at the sky without stepping off the porch.

"Really?" I ask. Liska says nothing, carefully avoiding looking at Ada, ears flat, as I continue vigorously rubbing my fingers in circles on top of her clit.

Ada shakes her head, replying, "Ada never went outside before master bought her. I only ever saw the sky through a window, and most of the time they kept us in a room with no windows. I had no idea the world was so big."

She sticks one hand out into the rain, then jerks it back, rubbing her fingers together.

"It's just water," I tell her.

"But where is it coming from?"

"From the clouds. That's what clouds are made of, water vapor."

"Water vapor?"

"Like steam," I tell her. "Little drops of water in the air. When they come together, they make big drops of water and get too heavy to stay in the air, so they fall. That's rain."

"Oh," she says, looking out in fascination.

"Would you like to play in the rain?" I ask her.

"May I?" she says, sounding surprised.

"Sure. But you have to take your clothes off so you don't get them wet. And you can only play in it for a few minutes, I don't want you catching a cold."

"Thank you, master!" she says, bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Master?" Liska says, cheeks still tinged a rosy color, but not nearly as flush as she was before.

"Hmm?"

"Liska will need to help Ada undress."

"Oh. Sure."

I remove my hand from her crotch, which is its own interesting shade of pink now, and she stands up, tugging her dress down. She helps Ada remove her apron, dress, blouse, and garter belt, in that order, and takes them inside and sets them on the table while Ada stands there naked and rubs her arms nervously, peering out at the rain.

"Well, go on," I tell her with a chuckle. She grins and jumps off the porch, landing in a puddle with a SPLAT! She shrieks, dancing back and forth in the mud.

"It's cold!" she shouts, laughing and waving her arms up at the sky. Liska stands beside me, twitching her tail, and looks at me. I nod my permission and she sits on my lap again. Then she sticks her bare feet straight out in front of her, in the rain, and holds them there for a long moment before letting them dangle above the floor.

"Do you want to play in the rain too?" I ask her.

She shakes her head.

"I don't like it when my tail gets wet."

"Ok," I say, stroking her hair gently. We watch Ada amuse herself in the rain for a minute longer, then both girls jump at the flash of a lightning bolt and the loud crack of thunder. That was close; it even rattled the windows on the house.

"Ok Ada, time to come in out of the rain."

I get no arguments as she runs back onto the porch, grinning and rubbing her arms vigorously to try to warm up.

"It's cold! I didn't know rain was cold!"

"Yep; wash the mud off your feet before you come in," I tell her.

"Yes, master!"

Liska hops off my lap again and says, "I'll get her a towel."

There's a good girl. Thinking ahead.

Ada stands on the porch, shivering, with a grin on her face, watching the rain come down. There's another rumble of thunder in the distance as Liska returns with a towel and helps Ada dry off, paying particular attention to her feet so she doesn't track mud into the house.

"If you get the floor muddy, you're cleaning it up," I warn her.

"Yes, master," she says, suddenly taking more interest in helping Liska wipe her feet off.

"There, all dry," Liska announces. As she starts to take the towel back inside, I grab her wrist and stop her.

"Could you put some wood in my little stove and heat up some water? Just enough for a mug. Actually... make it three mugs," I tell her.

"Yes, master," she says, flicking her orange tail behind her as she goes inside.

I pat my lap and Ada sits there, shivering. Her nipples are erect and she's covered in goosebumps, but she's still grinning. I put my arms around her and gently kiss her shoulder, her damp hair brushing my face.

"Did you have fun?"

"Uh-huh," she says, nodding enthusiastically. "I've never seen anything like this before!"

She jumps and makes a startled noise as another bolt of lightning lights up the sky in front of us, the crack of thunder loud enough to hurt my ears. I laugh at her response and she laughs with me, rubbing her arms.

"Cold?"

She nods. I snuggle her tighter in my lap, but I don't suggest she put her clothes back on. I have a naked teenage girl sitting in my lap, why the hell would I tell her to get dressed?

Liska steps back onto the porch, ears flattened and tail poofed up in a way that makes her look antsy.

"I hope the house doesn't get struck by lightning..." she says, a slight whine in her voice.

"That can happen? What would happen if it did?" Ada asks, starting to sound concerned.

"Don't worry, girls," I reassure them. "There's a lightning rod on all the chimneys, I noticed that when we bought the house. And it's more likely lightning would hit a tree anyway, they're taller."

The trees here are huge. I always had to go deep into a national forest or park to find trees as old and tall as these. Honestly, paying a little over five times what I bought Liska for was a bargain for property this nice. Unless land is cheap here? I'm not sure how the price of slaves and country estates translates to dollars and real estate values back home.

"Really?" Ada says, sounding reassured. Liska's tail is still poofed out and she's watching the rain nervously. More thunder rumbles nearby.

"Is the water heating?" I ask. Liska nods.

"You should keep an eye on it," I tell her. "That stove heats up faster than you'd expect." It's a woodgas stove. It doesn't just burn wood, it sucks the smoke in and burns it a second time, combusting all the unburnt material in the smoke so it heats more efficiently. Plus I really don't want to leave a fire unattended, even if it should be perfectly safe on the stove top. If the house burns down, we'll all have to move into the much smaller guest house, and hopefully we can save my things before the entire place burns down. Otherwise, I'll be broke, with no obvious way to make an income until that guy comes through and starts selling lighters. Which would still be a problem, because I agreed to pay for the cost of materials, and I haven't done that yet; if the house burns down with my money inside, I'm screwed.

Liska nods and heads back inside. I pat Ada on her rear to get her to hop up off my lap, and I go inside and head upstairs to dig the coffee out of my backpack.

Returning downstairs, I see Liska tending the woodgas stove, and Ada hugging herself and shivering by the window, still watching the rain in childlike wonder.

"Master? The water is hot now."

"Thanks Liska, I'll take over."

She steps aside for me, and I pour hot water into three mugs set out on the counter. The first one I dump the contents of an instant coffee packet into, pour in a couple French vanilla creamers, and some raw cane sugar, and stir it all up. The other two mugs I dump a packet of hot chocolate mix into and stir.

"Ada, why don't you open the door and the windows so we can listen to the rain? Let some fresh air in."

The sound of the rain on the roof is like a constant drumbeat, and the glass windows rattle to the thunder every other minute or so, but I still want to hear it better. Rain is relaxing.

I bring the chair inside and set it at the table, but facing the door, and sit down with my mug of coffee. The girls kneel in their usual places, Ada watching the rain in apparent fascination, Liska with minor trepidation. Her tail floofs out every time she hears thunder; is she scared of it? I remember when I was a kid, the family dog used to hide behind the toilet every time there was a thunderstorm. Maybe it's sort of the same thing? Or maybe she's been in a building that was struck by lightning before.

"Here girls, drink up."

They both accept a mug, Liska sniffing it hesitantly, then making an interested face as her ears perk up. Ada sips it cautiously and burns her tongue.

"Blow on it, it's still hot."

I drink a slug of hot coffee. Aaaaah, that's the stuff! Do they have coffee here? I know it actually became popular in parts of Europe before tea was even discovered by the West, but do they have it here? How expensive is it? I can probably get raw cane sugar like I like, but French vanilla creamer is right out. What I've got is all there is, so I'd better enjoy it while it lasts.

The girls seem to be enjoying their hot chocolate though; Ada isn't shivering anymore.

"This is good," Liska says, Ada nodding in agreement. "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate," I answer.

"I've never heard of it," she says, taking another sip.

"I'm sure they don't have it here," I tell her. Ada seems oblivious to the implication, but Liska, probably remembering our conversation about her protein bar being the only one she would ever have, seems to understand. She drinks it slowly, savoring every bit until it's all gone. Ada slurps her down as fast as she can without burning herself.

"That was good. Thank you, master."

"Yes, thank you, master!" Ada chimes in, taking Liska's empty mug from her and carrying them both to the sink.

"You're welcome, girls," I say, finishing off my coffee and passing the stoneware mug to Ada.

"I don't think we'll be able to go into the city to pick up Ada's shoes," Liska says, looking out at the storm with concern. "What would you like us to do for today, master?"

"For now," I say in a considering tone, "I think you should get undressed and the two of you girls hop in bed."

Liska grins, flicking her tail flirtaciously. Ooh, there's a sexy fox!

Who's a cute foxgirl? I think to myself as she takes her clothes off and lays them on the table next to Ada's. Who's a pretty foxgirl?

Nude except for her collar, Liska stands next to her taller, older 'little sister' and gives me a demure smile. Ada is smiling too.

I shut the door and bolt it, then take the girls each by their hand and lead them upstairs. They help me remove my shoes and set my clothes on the dresser, then slide under the blanket with me. The window is still open and, being upstairs, the sound of the rain pounding on the roof is even louder now.

"So... how do you girls think we should pass the time?" I ask mischieviously.

Ada rests one hand on my chest and asks, "Master? Would you like to make use of Ada's body?"

"Mmm, perhaps I would," I reply.

"Could we... could we do it like you used Liska last night?" she asks, clearly unsure if she's overstepping her bounds in requesting such a thing.

"Oh, you want to do it doggystyle?" I ask, grinning.

There's a choked squeak from my other side and Liska suddenly rolls out of bed, running for the door and flinging it open.

"Liska? What's wrong?"

Ada sits up on the bed wariza-style, clearly just as confused as I am.

"Stay here," I tell her, getting out of bed and stepping out into the hall. I didn't hear the stair creak, so I don't think she ran downstairs to the bathroom. Then again, she's so light and agile...

I hear a sob from the empty bedroom down the hall that I turned into a naked exercise studio for my girls. Poking my head around the corner, Liska is squatting on the floor, tail wrapped around herself, hands covering her ears. She's crying.

"Liska? Sweetie? What's wrong?"

My only answer is another sob.

I walk over and kneel down beside her; she flinches away when I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

Liska looks up at me, clearly distressed, and chokes out, "I'm not a dog!" in the most heartbroken voice I've ever heard from my little foxgirl.

"What?" I'm totally confused.

"I'm not a dog!" she says again, burying her face in her hands and crying even harder.

"Hey hey hey, who said you were a dog?" I ask, putting my arms around her in what I hope is a comforting manner. She starts to jerk away, then seems to remember who is whose property and lets me hug her.

"... you did. You said... d-doing it with me w-was like... like... with a dog."

"What? No, I didn't." Oh geez. I hurt her feelings without meaning to. Those mean bitches called her a dog before, and I'm sure that's not the first time she's heard that sort of thing.

"Ye-" she stops before she openly disagrees with me. Outright saying her master is wrong or, worse, a liar is too much for a slave to say.

"Liska, sweety, I did not call you a dog, or say you were like a dog," I tell her, lifting her up and settling her in my lap. She keeps her tail wrapped around herself and is hugging it tightly. I put my arms around her and rock her gently.

"Then why..."

I kiss one of her cute little fox ears, making it twitch, and say, "Doggystyle is what you call that position, when a girl is on her hands and knees being done from behind."

She clearly doesn't believe me.

"And when the girl is on top, it's called cowgirl. Do you know what a cowboy is?"

I nudge her when she doesn't answer and she shakes her head.

"A cowboy is someone who rides a horse all day, herding cattle. So when a girl is straddling the boy, she's riding him like a horse. So she's a cowgirl. I'm not saying she's a cow girl, it's the name of the position they're having sex in." Are cowgirls a thing here? In the sense of them herding cattle, or in the sense of beastkin with cow features? Whatever, that's not important right now. What is important is that my little foxgirl has had her feelings hurt. And probably over something she's already been nursing hurt feelings over for a while.

"So... you... you weren't-"

"No, sweety," I tell her, squeezing her in my arms. "I would never call you a dog. You're my little Liska, remember? And master would never hurt his Liska."

"I... I'm sorry," she says, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Shhh, it's ok," I tell her, rocking her back and forth in my lap. "It's ok. I know. And I didn't mean to hurt your feelings either."

I pick her up and carry her back to bed, princess-style, where Ada is waiting where I left her and looking thoroughly confused.

Laying Liska in bed, I climb in between the girls and pull the blanket up to cover us.

I don't feel like sex now. The mood is kind of ruined.

I hug both my girls to me, the room lit only by the single lamp and the flash of lightning outside.

"Why don't I read you some more of that story?"

"Ok," Liska says weakly. Ada nods, still not sure what's going on.

I pick up the book and Bilbo begins his game of riddles deep beneath the mountain.

Chapter 17: Visitor

>>26306

Liska is a good girl indeed.

---

The storm outside is really picking up. I'm sure if I was at home, we'd have lost power by now. But since we're using candles and oil lamps every day here, the only difference is how intense the storm itself is. Actually, that's one of the huge differences between here and home; when the power goes out at home, it's unnerving how quiet everything is without all your electronic devices running, no air conditioner rumbling, no refrigerator humming, no engines running in the background. It's quiet, and the silence is disturbing since we're not used to it. I vaguely remember the day after the 9-11 attacks, how quiet it was without airplanes flying overhead; we never even noticed how noisy they were until they were all suddenly absent. Here, it's like that all the time. I actually enjoy quiet places, and am used to both the quiet and primitive conditions since I enjoy hiking and camping, but I'm sure most people would feel out of place in a world like this. It's odd, but it's the little things that stand out as more... alien, than the major differences. Until now, I think the only time I really noticed was when I was first staying at the inn. Shaking off my derailed train of thought, I turn the page in my book.

It's getting a little hard to hear myself read aloud, the rain is beating on the roof so hard. The girls are getting nervous.

"Liska, why don't you run downstairs and make sure all the windows and shutters are closed so we don't get any rain inside the house? Ada, you check the upstairs windows."

They both nod and climb out of bed reluctantly. I take a look outside as Ada shuts the bedroom window; yeesh! The rain's coming down so hard it looks like it's night outside. I glance at my watch and it's ten in the morning.

I have a distinct feeling I won't be leaving the house today. Possibly even tomorrow, depending on what the road is like. Oh well; I didn't really want to go to Duke Hiram's party anyway, and this gives me a valid excuse. That and he never told me his address.

Ada hops back in bed and under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin, and I climb in beside her.

"Master? Is rain usually this... loud?"

I shake my head.

"No, this is a big storm," I tell her.

Liska steps back into the room just as another crack of thunder rattles the entire house and she literally leaps across the room onto the bed, orange tail poofed out like a bottle brush, and dives under the covers to press herself against me. I hug my girls to my chest comfortingly.

"It's ok. We'll need to check the roof for damage after the storm passes, make sure the wind didn't tear any shingles off, but we're perfectly safe in here."

Assuming the lightning rods work the way they're supposed to. And we don't have a flash flood. How close to the house is that stream? I should've surveyed the property more thoroughly and familiarized myself with the layout.

Oh well. It'll be ok. I rub my hands down Liska's and Ada's backs reassuringly and chuckle at their nervousness.

Something soft rubs across my stomach and I pull the blanket back enough to see what it is; Liska has tucked her tail between her legs and is clutching it in one hand.

"Well," I say loudly to be heard over the rain coming down on the roof, "that is quite a poofy tail there!"

I start stroking her soft fur, and she lays her tail across my stomach, though it's still between her legs. After a moment, Ada reaches over and starts stroking Liska's tail too; it's hard to hear over the storm, but I think she said something about how soft it was.

I start scratching the base of Liska's tail and she flips her tail out from between her legs, laying it across her hips and my stomach where Ada can continue stroking her fur while I scratch the base of it. Grinning, Ada reaches over to scratch one ear, and I start scratching the other.

Clearly enjoying the attention, Liska closes her eyes and revels in all the skritches. Ada giggles, also clearly enjoying Liska's reaction to getting scratched. My little foxgirl's left leg starts spasming and she bites her lip, tilting her head to encourage harder scratching.

Then the world seems to explode right outside our window and all three of us jump. Ada has pressed herself flat against the mattress, looking frightened; Liska has vanished entirely. I swing my legs out of bed to see what happened and nearly step on an orange tail sticking out from under the bed.

Swearing, I manage to avoid stepping on Liska's tail, which quickly zips under the bed to join the rest of her, and walk over to the window and open the shutters to see what happened.

"What was that?!" Ada asks.

"The tree outside got struck by lightning," I respond. "On the plus side, the rain is putting out the fire."

A big branch is laying on the ground, little flames sizzling and dying in the heavy rain. I guess my theory about the trees being more likely to get hit by lightning than the house proved true.

I return to bed and Ada presses herself against me; I can actually feel her heart pounding.

"That was so loud! Does... does this happen every time it rains?"

"No," I tell her. "This is just a really bad storm."

Leaning over to look at the floor where Liska hid under the bed, I say, "Liska, it's ok. You can come out."

No answer.

"Liska? C'mon sweetie. It's safe."

Still no answer.

I lean over and look under the bed. She's curled up in a little ball of red hair and orange fur, hands covering her ears and eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey. It's ok, come on out."

She's not budging.

Just as I'm wondering how to handle this, the bell downstairs rings.

"Dammit. Ada, run downstairs and let Macska in."

I assume it's Momma Cat, anyway. Who else would be ringing the doorbell?

Ada hurries downstairs, and I try to coax my frightened foxgirl out from under the bed.

"Liska, it's ok. It's safe. Come out from under there."

Dammit, she still isn't budging. I finally get down on my hands and knees on the floor, reach under the bed to grab her by the ankle, and haul her out. Once out from under the bed, she flails around in a panic and I have to wrestle her arms and legs still before she hits me or hurts herself.

"Hey hey hey! Calm down! It's ok. It's ok."

My little foxgirl is hyperventilating. Poor little Liska. Between the frightening experience of the swordfight and seeing a guy get his brains blown out yesterday, her hurt feelings over thinking I was comparing her to a dog, and the tree getting struck by lightning, she's over-stressed and scared out of her wits.

I pick her up off the floor and sit on the bed, wrapping the blanket around us and gently rocking her in my lap.

"Shhhh, it's ok. It's ok. Nothing happened, it was just a tree. You're fine."

Her breathing is starting to calm down, but she's clutching her tail in a death grip.

Ada appears at the door again, looking disturbed and uncomfortable.

"Master? Macska and Mushuk are here. And they have a stranger with them."

"A stranger?"

She nods. Liska squeaks as thunder rumbles nearby again.

"Ok. Stay with Liska, she's scared."

Ada nods again, climbing back into bed and hugging Liska, making shushing noises. I quickly get dressed and make sure my pistol is holstered, then head downstairs.

Macska and Mushuk are standing by the kitchen door; they're not nearly as wet as I expected. They must have used a tarp or something to stay dry. A man I don't recognize, in stained and tattered clothes, is thoroughly soaked on the other hand.

"Can I help you?"

He gestures helplessly, and Macska says something in gibberish, then in halting Hratchan says, "No... talk, Hratchan."

"Gotcha. He doesn't understand. Let me see if my translator is functional," I say, gathering the girls' clothes off the kitchen table and taking them upstairs.

"Liska? How you doin'?" I ask.

"... better," she replies. Poor thing. This has been a really stressful couple of days for her, hasn't it.

I gently pet her on the head, then tell her, "There's a stranger downstairs who doesn't speak Hratchan, I need you to translate. Get dressed, help Ada get dressed, and come downstairs with me."

"Yes, master."

Having something to do, my foxgirl puts on a brave face and dresses herself, minus her shoes and stockings, then dresses Ada while the other girl stands there helplessly. We really need to teach her how to work buttons and tie strings. Then again, it's kinda cute having Liska dress her up. We'll teach her how to dress herself so she can do it without help, but I'll have Liska dress her most of the time. It's cuter that way.

Both girls fully clothed, I lead them downstairs. Mushuk immediately rattles something off in heavily accented gibberish and Liska replies. He gestures at me and says something again.

"Mushuk wants to know if he can look out the window at the tree that was hit by lightning, in case it poses a danger to the house."

"Sure," I reply. Mushuk immediately heads over to one of the downstairs rooms and I can hear him working open the shutters. Macska, in the meantime, is busying herself in the kitchen, lighting a candle and placing it on the table so we have some light, and lighting the stove and rattling pots and pans around getting ready for lunch.

"So who is this, and what's he doing here?" I ask Liska.

Liska speaks in gibberish, and the man responds.

"He's a farmer who lives down the road; he was trying to take some chickens into the city to sell them in the market, but didn't make it before the storm arrived. He took shelter in the barn, Mushuk helped him stow his horse and cart, and brought him in the guest house. They all came to see if everything was ok when the lightning hit the tree."

"I see. Why don't you fetch our guest a towel? Ada, go get the chair from the study."

"Yes, master."

The farmer is drying himself off by the door, wringing out his coat and hat onto the porch rather than indoors, when Mushuk returns.

"Mushuk says the tree is probably dead now, but there's no danger of it falling on the house or starting a fire."

I nod to Mushuk, both to acknowledge his report and convey my thanks for his checking on it, and gesture for our new guest to take a seat.

The farmer looks like being offered a chair was unexpected, but gratefully takes it. I gesture for Liska to accompany me into the study and Ada, glancing between us and the others and not knowing what to do, follows us.

Shutting the study door behind us, I ask Liska, "How likely is it that this farmer isn't just here by coincidence?"

After all, Giros did arrange for a couple of twats to challenge me to a duel, and he was apparently behind that boy yanking Liska's tail in public to see how I'd respond, and the woman who intervened when I yelled at the kid. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he sent someone to my house to scope it out for another attempt at killing me.

Liska, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have even thought of the possibility. She blinks in surprise at the question, and says, "I'm not sure what you mean. He lives a few miles down the road..."

Liska was clever enough to put all the pieces together and determine that someone was conspiring against me. If the idea that this farmer might be here to spy on us, or even make an attempt to kill me himself, didn't occur to her, then how likely is it? Then again, she's been scared senseless or upset for a good portion of the last two days, including just a few minutes ago; she may not be thinking clearly.

I explain my concerns to her and after thinking about it for a good couple of minutes, tail twitching in thought, Liska shakes her head.

"Lord Glisko is the son of a minor baron on the other side of the Principality; he wouldn't have the connections to hire a local farmer to spy on you, and being young and arrogant as he seems to be, it's unlikely he would think of such a thing. Younger nobles tend to look down on commoners, especially peasants, and don't like to interact with them. Most of them grow out of that, but not all of them do. He may have an intermediary hire a local, but again, he lacks the connections. Lord... Giros, was it? He's a local, and he was clearly behind that incident where they were testing your reaction," she says, swinging her tail around so she can clutch it as if remembering how much it hurt getting it yanked, "But again, that was within the city. Both the boy and the woman spoke fluent Hratchan, and while they wore commoner's clothing, it was clean and not falling apart. This man is... a bumpkin, through and through. He doesn't speak Hratchan at all, his clothes are in poor repair, and while he's trying his best to mind his manners, it's clear he doesn't understand proper etiquette while at a lord's house."

Actually, that raises a point that had been bothering me ever since I magically appeared on the road outside the city.

"Ada, could you stand in the hall for a moment?"

Ada looks at me quizzically, but doesn't hesitate to obey, stepping out into the hall and shutting the door.

What I'm about to say is for Liska's fuzzy ears alone. I don't want anyone else to even suspect; Ada's a good girl, but she's remarkably sheltered and might let slip the wrong thing. What she doesn't know can't hurt me.

"Why, exactly, does everyone automatically assume I'm some sort of a lord?" I ask Liska.

Her ears perk up in surprise and she releases her tail, letting it dangle behind her.

"Because... master is obviously a lord!"

"Explain. What makes it so obvious?"

She cocks her head to one side, clearly still not understanding why I'm asking. Then she stands up straight and enters what I'm beginning to recognize as her tutor mode.

"Master speaks only Hratchan, which is the language of the upper class, such as nobles. In spite of being a foreigner, his mastery of the language is perfect, implying an excellent education. Master's clothes, while strange, are very well made, in very good repair, and very well dyed; they're clearly too expensive to belong to a commoner, and if master had to perform manual labor for a living they would be more heavily worn and faded. Master has pale skin; commoners work outdoors in the sun and heat all day, and as a result are tanned. Only those who can stay indoors most of the time, the wealthy, high class slaves, clergy, and nobility, have such pale skin. Master has a very large, very well made sword; swords are very expensive. Only the wealthy can afford one, so the only commoners with swords are professional soldiers, whose equipment is paid for by their lord. Master is very healthy, very clean, and very... physically fit," she says, blushing slightly as she looks me up and down. "A commoner might end up being just as strong as master is by working all day, but he wouldn't be able to afford enough food for his muscles to be as big as master's. Master is very tall; only nobles are so tall. Nobody quite agrees if it has to do with being a sign of noble blood or if nobles can simply afford more and better food as they grow, but it's very rare for a commoner to be so tall. Master clearly has money, since he can afford two high-class slaves and a country manor. And master speaks to nobles and wealthy commoners on the same level; he doesn't defer to them all the time like a commoner.

Liska dips her head sheepishly, folding her ears slightly to the sides, as she comments, "It would probably be better for master to refer to other nobles as 'my lord', since it's good manners, but foreigners aren't expected to be entirely familiar with local customs." That's as close as a slave can come to criticizing her master for his lack of manners when addressing others.

Wow. I'm still trying to process this huge amount of info Liska just dumped on me when she continues.

"No one besides Ada and myself know about them, but master also owns many expensive things, like his mirror and his music box. Only the wealthy could own such things, and master's music and talking box are... Liska has become familiar with many luxury items, being trained as a tutor for the rich and elite, but even so... I do not think such things exist here. And if such things were available enough in master's homeland that a commoner could afford one, they would surely have made their way here by trade, even if only as very expensive luxury goods. The fact that Liska has never heard of such things... I may have been a commoner and only recently elevated to the status of someone who could attend nobility, but I think I know enough to say nobody else here has heard of such wondrous devices either, regardless of their wealth. Therefore, master must be very wealthy and well-connected to have one of them, much less an entire pack of such things. Master is also from very far away and has traveled very far, apparently without companions, but when master first bought Liska he'd only just arrived in Girdan. Yet master was clean and in good health, clearly indicating he didn't travel on foot the entire way, and must therefore have been able to rent a carriage or horse for much of the journey. Given all of that, master is very clearly a noble," she pronounces, beaming at me and twitching her ears in pride at laying out all the puzzle pieces that explained why everyone just seemed to assume I was some sort of lord.

"Huh," I say, not really sure how to respond to that. Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance; it sounds like the rain is starting to die down too.

"And," Liska says, peering at me intently to gauge my reaction, "Master is very clearly noble by birth. Master has no idea how to take care of a horse, nor does he know how to run a household; he grew up with servants doing that for him. Master didn't know how to buy a house, indicating he'd grown up on a family estate and only recently struck out on his own. Given all of that and the fact that master has traveled so far from home, alone, and..." she pauses before the dramatic reveal, "Master is surely the second or third son of a prince or king, who wouldn't inherit the title and instead left to seek his own fortune."

She looks at me intently; she may interpret my blank expression as a pokerface.

"... is Liska correct?"

No. Not in the least. I'm a commoner, as poor as they come, and a manual laborer. My clothes are generic. While some things, mainly my pistols, are expensive, nothing I own is unusual for a 'commoner' to own. I'm indoors all day, but that's because my job is mostly indoors; when I'm not glued to a computer monitor, I enjoy the outdoors. But as a luxury, not a necessity. And she's never heard of my country or its trade goods because I'm literally from another world.

I guess by the standards of this world, I really am well off. Certainly my standard of living is better than that of a peasant.

Let my cute little foxgirl believe what she wants to believe; it's a logical conclusion, given what she knows and has context for, and if it makes her feel clever for having figured it out, then fine. And she did say slaves liked to show off how important their masters are to other slaves, so if she believes all that about me, then she'll feel good about herself too. The realization she was bought by a disgruntled loser who was doomed to die alone in a cramped apartment probably wouldn't be good for her self-esteem.

"Good job," I tell her, reaching out to pat her on the head. "That's a pretty good guess."

She beams with pride, tail wagging, then wiggles her butt so her tail wags even harder when I scratch her ears. I don't think she realizes I never actually confirmed her beliefs about me.

I open the door and Ada peeks in to see if it's ok for her to come back in. I wave her in and shut the door behind her.

"So you don't think this farmer is here for any ulterior reasons? He just got caught in the storm and took shelter at the first available place?"

Liska nods.

Well, I don't mind offering shelter to someone in such nasty weather. And sacred hospitality is probably a feature of this culture. Back in antiquity and the Middle Ages, you were expected to offer shelter and food to any traveler that asked, so you could receive the same in turn. Inns were few and far between, and the world a much more dangerous place; taking shelter at a local's home could be the difference between life and death when traveling long distances. If you were caught in a snowstorm on foot, being able to knock on the door of a nearby house, even a peasant's hovel, and receive warmth, food, and a place to stay the night was probably the only thing preventing you from dying. Getting kicked out by someone who refused to shelter you could be a death sentence. That's why so many fairy tales start with someone getting cursed by a fairy, witch, or other being disguised as a traveler after refusing them sacred hospitality; even the backstory for Beauty and the Beast starts with the prince being an arrogant prick who kicks an old woman out into a storm when she begs for shelter, and gets cursed to turn into the titular beast. Such hospitality continued into modern times, at least in rural areas. Given what I know of the local culture, and the level of technology, I'm sure sacred hospitality is a thing here too. At the very least, kicking the farmer out would be seen as a dick move by anyone he complained about it to; in the worst case, it could give me a bad reputation. I'm stuck here, I can't afford to be a pariah.

And, as I said, I don't mind sheltering someone in such nasty weather. If Liska thinks the farmer is on the up and up, I have no problem letting him stay.

I open the door and the girls, Ada appearing somewhat disappointed at having had nothing to contribute and being left out of most of the conversation, follow.

Macska has her husband assisting her, putting dishes on the table. Liska asks something, probably inquiring if she or Ada should help, and Momma Cat shoos her off. Both girls follow me as I walk around the table and sit in my chair, then kneel in their usual places. The farmer is still seated at the far end of the table from me, looking uncomfortable and holding his hat awkwardly.

"He can set his hat on the table if he wants," I comment. Liska translates and the farmer says something that sounds like 'oh, I couldn't possibly', and just sets his hat in his lap.

The last of the food is set out and everyone's plates loaded up, and Macska and Mushuk kneel at the table opposite Liska and Ada. I start eating as soon as everyone is in place, and the girls wait for that cue to start eating their own food. Momma and Poppa Cat dive in as soon as the girls start, and the farmer seems to decide that means he should eat too.

Lunch consists of some grilled chicken with herbs, a small salad drizzled lightly in oil and vinegar, and a baked onion. Like, just an onion Macska baked like you do a baked potato. The concept is a little odd to me, but no one else seems to mind. I watch Liska as she peels off the onion skin and sprinkles her steaming hot onion with salt and butter, then reaches over to help Ada with hers when she doesn't seem to know what to do with it.

I imitate Liska, peeling off the onion skin, sprinkling some salt on it, and a little melted butter from the pewter dish Macska set on the table, then cut off a piece with my fork and stick it in my mouth.

Huh. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was not this. Baked onion is surprisingly good. Soft, flavorful, quite tasty. It's a very plain food, something I can see commoners eating on a regular basis since onions have historically been pretty cheap, but quite tasty. I definitely did not expect it to be like this.

The farmer makes some kind of comment in gibberish while looking at Ada, then shovels another forkful of chicken into his mouth. Mushuk makes some sort of deadpan response, not looking at the farmer, and continues eating. The farmer glances over at the zweihander still leaning on the wall by the door, then focuses his attention on his plate, conspicuously not looking anywhere else.

"What did they say?" I ask Liska.

"The farmer said that master owns some very pretty girls. Mushuk said master also owns a very big sword and won two duels yesterday."

"Oh."

Yeah, let him keep his eyes to himself. They're my girls, got it? Don't sully them with your impure thoughts; sullying them is my job!

I keep eating until my plate is clean, and compliment Macska on her cooking. Liska translates her making a modest apology for not having time to cook anything more elaborate, and I wave it off. It was good.

Mushuk helps his wife gather dishes, and Liska moves beside me so she can lean her head against my leg and receive ear scritches, which I gladly give her. There's a good little foxgirl. There's a cute little foxgirl. We're all better now that the storm is moving off, aren't we.

Ada comes around the table to kneel beside me on my other side, then awkwardly asks, "Master? If it isn't too much for Ada to ask..."

"Hmm?"

"M-may Ada sit on your lap?"

Oh. Maybe Liska isn't the only one with jealousy issues. I let my foxgirl sit on my lap all the time and give her attention in the form of ear scratching and tail stroking, so Ada probably feels a little left out in the affection department.

I pat my lap and she smiles shyly, perching herself there. She's a fairly small girl, despite her age, but she's significantly heavier than Liska. Ah well. I reach up to gently stroke her hair and she clearly enjoys the special treatment.

The farmer clears his throat awkwardly and gets out of his chair, peering out the window at the storm. It's definitely raining a lot less than it was earlier.

"Let's go upstairs, girls," I say. Ada hops off my lap and Liska gets to her feet, and they both follow me up the stairs to the bedroom.

"What would you like us to do, master?" Liska asks.

Hmm. I'll just keep them busy for now.

"Why don't you girls dust and sweep the upstairs for now?"

"Yes, master!"

"Yes, master."

I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. I miss my desk. And my chair. That was a good chair. It swiveled. It rolled. It had great lumbar support. Do they have rolling swivel chairs here? I think Thomas Jefferson invented those. Maybe I could design one and market it along with my lighters. Liska said local merchants would be upset if I was looking to break into their markets as competition, but introducing brand new products shouldn't be a problem, especially if I'm involving local industry and giving them a share of the profits, like the guy who's building my lighters. If I find a local furniture maker and show him 'my' idea for a rolling swivel chair, he should be happy to produce and sell them on my behalf.

That's a good idea. And then I can have a nice chair again. With arm rests. And nice padding. And lumbar support. Of course, I don't really have any reason to sit at a desk anymore, given the lack of computers or internet here. Hmm. Maybe I can sit in my awesome chair while one of the girls gives me a blowjob. Surely that'll justify building and owning an awesome chair.

Or maybe I'm just starting to feel homesick. It felt kind of alien waking up in the inn for the first time, but ever since I've really just been rolling with the punches and trying to adjust to this world I unexpectedly found myself in. I haven't really had the chance to think about home.

Did my dumbass sister eventually drop her kid off at my apartment? Was my nephew left standing outside, knocking on the door, wondering why I wasn't answering, or did she actually try to call ahead? Or did she just forget the whole camping trip and left me hanging? Has anyone realized I'm missing? Are my parents freaking out? Has my boss tried to get hold of me when I didn't show up to work or call in sick?

It's something I often pondered, and occasionally discussed on Hiraeth. If you just vanished off the face of the earth one day, how long would it take for anyone to realize you were missing? Actully, come to think of it, Mephistopheles was in all of those threads, wasn't he?

I'm officially homesick. All the little things I'll never get to do again come rushing into my mind. Driving at night, past all the lights. Pulling a cold drink out of the fridge. Sitting in front of a fan. Shitposting online. Watching an Australian livestream his visit to a mosque. Going to the theater to see a nerdy movie with my friends. Seeing my friends and family at all.

I pull my Zune out, stick the earbuds in, and lay down on the bed, letting John Denver set the mood.

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go, I'm standin' here outside your door..."

Chapter 18: Ettiquette

Sorry guys, it's been hard to find time to write given the IRL apocalypse going on. But to reward your patience, I'm posting a shorter chapter than I intended now so I can finish the rest of what I've written later and not make you wait so long.

Also, if Hiraeth ever does become an official light novel/anime, I've found a song I'm definitely demanding to be the opening theme:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DffQVP6UqVQ

Deep Forest Dance, 03:57

And now, more of Liska being a good girl.

----------------

After a glance at the remaining battery life, I put my Zune away and sit up. Unless Mephistopheles or whoever is responsible for my being here returns me to my world, this is home now and there's nothing I can do about it. I spent years feeling homesick for a place I wasn't sure existed, and now I'm somewhere else entirely. I'll miss all the conveniences of modern life, as well as my family, but honestly... I've got it really good here. Better than I have any right to, anyway. I could be a homeless day laborer looking for work to keep myself fed, living out of my tent, rather than enjoying a cozy country estate, a private cook, and two nubile sex slaves. Hell, imagine if I hadn't grabbed any of my things on a whim, much less those aluminum coins. I shiver at the thought that such a minor action was the difference between a life of luxury and dying of starvation and exposure in a ditch, unknown and unmourned, with my family never having any clue about my fate.

No, I'm incredibly lucky. It's time to quit feeling sorry for myself and make the most of my new home. I've already got a business arrangement with the guy who's going to make lighters for me, why not introduce more modern conveniences to this world? Like rolling chairs. With lumbar support.

An adorably high-pitched throat being cleared interrupts my train of thought and I look up to see Liska peering into the room, ears cocked to one side.

"Master? Ada and I have finished sweeping and dusting the upstairs. And Mushuk says he can have the cart ready to go into town whenever you think it's convenient."

"Really?" I ask, surprised. "I would think the road is a muddy mess."

Liska shakes her head, replying, "It's a good road, made of concrete. Very old. The farmer didn't have any trouble when he left."

"Well, I guess we can go pick up Ada's shoes then."

"And we can check on the clothes you ordered; perhaps they'll be ready in time for the dinner party tonight."

I slap my forehead, startling Liska.

"Dagnabit! I have no idea where he lives!"

"The duke of Wellby?" Liska asks. I nod in reply.

"Oh. Liska knows. A lord's tutor must know who all the most influential people in town are, after all. He lives just down the street from the castle at the center of town."

Well that's convenient.

"He never gave me a time, either."

"Dinner parties among the upper class are served one hour after sundown, typically. We have a few hours."

Trust Liska to once again save my bacon with her knowledge of this world. I pat the bed and she trots in and perches herself next to me.

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the etiquette for dinner parties here. We do things a particular way back home, and I'm not sure how it's done here." Another little white lie; Liska will never know the difference.

Liska explains proper table manners to me; they're not that different from what I'm used to. She does emphasize that I need to speak more formally and refer to nobles as lord and lady though, something that as an American I simply don't have experience with. We shot our nobility and drove them from the country, after all.

"What about slaves?" I ask. I'd really like Liska to be there to keep me from making an ass of myself.

"It's expected for a noble to bring at least one slave. Not very many though, only one or two; it would make the host look bad if one of his guests brought a large number of slaves. It would be good for master to bring both Ada and Liska, to show he has wealth and status."

"I see."

Tilting her head to one side, Liska presses her tongue to one cheek thoughtfully, flicking her ears.

"I would be present as your number one slave, so in that capacity I would be there to serve you if need be. You could leave me restrained if you wished, which would be both polite as it shows trust in your host to have his slaves tend to your needs, or remove my restraints upon entry to his house if you need me to serve you. Ada would be there as decoration, to show that you can afford such a pretty slave, so you would leave her restrained throughout the dinner to show she isn't there to serve you. But would it be best to have wearing her new clothes to show that you can afford to dress slaves so well, or bring her nude to show off your status in owning a sex slave? Her scars may make people think you only bought her because she was sold at discount if she's nude..."

"Uh..." Does she expect me to bring Ada to a dinner party naked, just to show off how much fuck-you money I have? 'Yeah, I'm so rich I have a naked girl follow me around as living decoration, what of it?'

My 21st century American upbringing is conflicting with the culture and ethics of the world I'm trapped in. I'm Good People in this world if I'm wealthy and own slaves, but don't abuse them too obviously, but back home I'd be considered a complete monster, or at least a hypocritical, misogynistic asshole at best. Well, this is my home now. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Liska swishes her tail a few times, biting her lip, then seems to come to a decision.

"Master would be best served by bringing Ada nude; this is master's debut in local high society, so it's important to make as strong an impression as possible. Master must appear as wealthy and influential as possible. If Ada's looks hadn't been spoiled by those scars, it would be better, but as is... she's still a very pretty girl, and demonstrating that you own a proper sex slave, damaged or not, will increase your standing."

"Ok," I say, "You and Ada will come along. What do the slaves do while dinner is served?"

"Since I'll be there in the capacity of a servant, I would kneel to your right side. It is customary to have such a slave taste each dish as well as the drinks; originally that was to test for poison or to ensure the food wasn't spoiled, but now it's mostly a matter of ritual. You should let me sip from your cup and eat a small bite of each food item before you try it yourself. Otherwise, I will not be eating. Ada is along to increase your status, so her job is to stand there and look pretty. She will stand to your left, just behind your chair."

"She has to stand there the entire time?"

"Of course. Don't worry, Ada is a high class slave, she'll know her role. Your host's slaves will take away empty dishes from the right side, reaching around me. It is very important you do not speak to these slaves or acknowledge them in any way. If you need something, you simply announce it to the air and it will be done."

Frowning, I say, "That sounds a little... cold. Dehumanizing."

Liska blinks, cocking her ears to one side in that adorable look of confusion she gets.

"They are not your slaves, so you cannot give them orders or make requests of them. But they will be under their master's orders to see to his guests' needs, so if you simply announce it..."

"Gotcha."

"Oh!" Liska sits upright, ears erect. "I should tell Mushuk to ready the cart so it'll be ready!"

"Good idea," I reply.

Liska darts out of the room, orange tail flagging behind her. I doublecheck that I've got some gold and silver on me, and head downstairs.

My zweihander is still leaning against the wall. I decide to take it back upstairs and grab it. As I do, I examine the blade. There's a big scratch on the flat of the blade on one side, and a couple of small notches in the edge where it made contact with that asshole's sword. I feel an instant of irritation at my previously pristine sword being nicked and scratched, but it immediately goes away. It was just a toy, or decoration, back home on Earth. Now it's a functional weapon, one I may need again to save my life in the future. It's a tool. Tools get used. If it was still pristine, then it wouldn't be used.

The door opened and Liska stepped in, latching it behind her.

"Mushuk will have the cart ready in a few minutes, master."

"Thanks. Will I need to bring this along?" I ask, hefting the massive sword. I really don't want to lug a huge sword to a dinner party, but if I get challenged to another duel...

"You can, if you feel it necessary. Any guests who bring a sword to dinner will place them in the cloak room while they eat. Some may keep a knife on their belt. But it's considered extremely poor taste to challenge someone to a duel while you're guests at someone's home; it also invites retaliation from the host for bringing violence under his roof."

Ah. Sacred hospitality again.

"It is very unlikely master will have need of a sword, but you may bring it if you wish."

"I can bring a smaller weapon and wear it to the table?" I ask.

"... yes, that would be fine," Liska says, ears flattening as she clearly remembers the effect of my pistol on the rich asshole.

"Good. Have Ada ready to go pick up her shoes, I'm going to put this away."

"Yes, master."

I head upstairs and prop the sword up in the corner, then open my pack and dig out my Luger.

I love this pistol. It's a 1908 military model, but chambered in 7.65mm or .30 Luger, rather than 9mm. The bluing and the straw finish on the small parts were pristine, and the chamber was marked 1918. I had to save my money for six months to buy it, living paycheck to paycheck as I do- or did, rather. Well worth it. It's just the sort of fine sidearm to wear to a fancy dinner party.

I keep my HK USP holstered and concealed, but undo my belt and slide the Luger's skeleton holster, a reproduction of a WW2 fallschirmjager holster, onto it in a crossdraw position that will be easier to draw while seated. There. Now I'm openly armed with a ranged weapon, and I have one nobody knows about. My bases are covered.

Pulling the Luger from its holster, I doublecheck the magazine and chamber a round before holstering it again. The smaller caliber is less powerful than 9mm, but very low recoil and very accurate. And .30-caliber Lugers are more reliable than 9mm Lugers, since more soldiers brought home 9mm Lugers as trophies from both World Wars and many of them have out-of-spec recoil springs due to worn out parts being replaced with aftermarket parts and people not understanding what Lugers need to function reliably. And the smaller caliber will kill just fine.

Heading back downstairs, I find both my girls waiting by the door. They both turn and put their arms behind their backs so I can restrain them, then raise their chins as I clip their leashes onto their collars.

"I have Ada's stockings for when we get her shoes, master," Liska says, turning her hip to show a little cloth purse she has attached to her apron strings. It's a very nice purse, dark blue like her dress and decorated with a thistle design. Presumably she included it in the household items she arranged for me to buy. I nod my approval and lead the girls to the cart, where Mushuk is waiting.

"Allright, let's go to town."

Chapter 19: Perfume

Sorry, I meant to post this on Thursday, but I had to go back and fix a couple spots where I accidentally used past tense instead of present tense. The next chapter is mostly complete.

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The road looks like it's made completely of mud, but it turns out the mud is just a layer an inch or so thick and there's good, solid road beneath. Other than a moment where the horse loses traction in the mud, we have no issues making it into the city.

Since all the shops I want to visit are in the same general area, Mushuk drops us off outside the cobbler's and departs in the cart for the general market to buy more groceries and another bale of hay for the horse. Once both my girls are out of the wagon and settled, I give a gentle tug of the leash and lead them inside.

The cobbler presents us with another pair of shiny, black mary janes, and Ada marvels at her very first pair of shoes. At Liska's subtle prompting, I undo her restraints, and she kneels before Ada to slide on her stockings and button them to her garter belt. Which the cobbler positioned himself to watch with a grin. I'm beginning to wonder if I should take my business elsewhere, if he's going to lust after my girls so openly.

Stockings on, Liska slides on Ada's shoes, then has her stand up and walk around in them.

"Well?"

"They're tight," Ada complains lightly. The cobbler frowns and has her sit again, then doublechecks the measurement of both her shoes and her feet. They're perfect.

"She's never worn shoes before, master. She simply isn't used to them yet," Liska explains, more for the cobbler's benefit than mine. The cobbler nods his understanding, slips Ada's shoe back on, and stands up, dusting his hands off.

I pay him the charges due, bind Liska's arms behind her back again, and we head to the seamstress next.

The seamstress has a couple of customers, but they're examining bolts of fabric and comparing them. She steps out from behind the counter and makes enthusiastic noises about how cute Ada looks in her full outfit, causing the slave girl to blush and look away shyly for the first time since I've bought her. Yep, she likes her new clothes all right.

The seamstress also compliments Liska, even though she's already seen her in her outfit before, gives me a package with Momma Cat's new dress in it, and I purchase a couple extra pairs of stockings. You can never have too many stockings, given how easy it is to tear a hole in the thin fabric. Not bothering to undo Liska's restraints, I insert the stockings into the purse on her hip, and we head to the tailor next to check on the progress of my clothes.

My new outfit isn't ready yet. Looks like a t-shirt and 5.11 cargo pants will be my formal evening wear tonight.

"I was hoping my new clothes would be ready in time for the party tonight, but I understand," I tell the tailor. His slave/assistant comes out from the back to show him a sketch on a piece of paper and he nods after a quick glance at it.

"I'm thankful for your patience, my lord. I thought I would finish the order before yours sooner, but there was a complication. Your clothes should be finished by tomorrow, but unfortunately it will be quite impossible to have them ready by today."

"I understand," I say again, tugging on my girls' leashes to signal them to follow me out the door. I really do understand; bespoke clothing, made by hand, takes time, especially when it seems to be a one-man operation, not including his perky little assistant. I'm not sure which one does the majority of the work, but I get the impression he does most of it while she helps him by fetching buttons or bobbins of thread or whatever.

"A party?" Ada asks.

Oh crap, nobody told her?

"Yes, at the duke of Wellby's tonight," Liska says, saving me from having to explain. "Not a formal dinner, but we will need to look our best in order to make a good impression for master." There's an awkward pause before she says, "You'll be nude," but Liska meets Ada's eyes unapologetically.

I expected Ada to simply accept the news passively like she normally does, but instead she seems to grow a head taller and has a fierce look in her eyes.

"Ada must look her best for master! I'll need to shave as soon as we get home. And... master? Would it be ok if Ada requested some makeup?"

Hey, she used 'ok' again. Maybe she really is more clever than I gave her credit for.

"Sure," I reply. A glance at Liska reveals her ears are laid back and she has an expression that verges on mild panic. "Liska did not purchase makeup, master. Liska... has never worn makeup and does not know how," she admits sheepishly. Of course; Liska was a peasant girl before becoming a slave, and as a slave her training mostly regarded being a tutor. Ada sticks her chest out proudly and adopts a look of fierce pride.

"Ada was instructed in the use of cosmetics, so as to be a proper sex slave. I can use it."

"Ok," I say, approving of this little venture and Ada's sudden surge of confidence. "So where do we buy makeup?"

Ada wilts slightly as she has no idea where to obtain makeup, but Liska cocks her head to one side for a moment, ears twitching thoughtfully, then gently steers me in the right direction by pressing her little boobs against my arm while Ada trails behind.

The shop is, like most other places in the upper-class district, located not too far from the slave market. The building is very colorful and decorated with carved wooden flowers and a vine motif. Instead of the small glass windows of the other upscale shops or the open, glass-less windows of the more average shops, they have a single enormous picture window. A single pane of glass that large is nothing where I come from, but here it must be enormously expensive. And it's very clear too, only a few small spots of cloudiness or warped glass; even some of the shops with glass windows, the glass is only transparent enough to let light through, not see clearly through. This is probably some of the best glass you can buy. Such a window screams "if you have to ask, you can't afford it," and I can almost hear my wallet scream as I step over the threshold and lead the girls inside.

Huh. This is the first shop I've seen that's run by a non-human. The woman behind the counter is just above waist height for me, standing on a raised platform behind the counter, and looks to be in her late 50's or early 60's, with greying blonde hair tied back in a braid that reaches to her waist. She's plump, cheery, and has a pair of pince-nez glasses perched on her round nose, perfectly framed by two red cheeks. She looks like the perfect image of somebody's tiny grandma, or maybe David the Gnome's wife without the pointy hat.

"I've never met a dwarf before," Liska whispers behind me. The woman greets me cheerfully, asking me to step up to the counter as her eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be.

If her eyes aren't as sharp as they once were, then they must have been able to cut diamonds in her youth, because she's shrewdly examining me up and down. Then she takes in Liska and Ada, taking note of how nicely they're dressed despite obviously being slaves. Liska swishes her tail back and forth casually, and a glance at her face, calmly meeting granny dwarf's eyes, tells me she's deliberately calling attention to her status as a vixen, highlighting her rarity and value as a slave.

Basically, granny is evaluating whether we have the coin to buy her goods or should be chased out of her shop, and Liska is subtly confirming that I'm flush with cash. Ada is still preening in her dress, shuffling her feet awkwardly in her new shoes, and looking at the shelves.

"Welcome, good sir. Is there something you're looking for?" the tiny woman asks as she descends a set of stairs from behind the counter and stopping beside me, confirming how ridiculously short she is.

"Yes. The duke of Wellby has invited me to dinner tonight," I say, feeling the name drop may give me a little more credit with granny, "And I need some makeup for my slaves."

"Ah. You've certainly come to the right place then," she replies, leading us to one corner of the shop. At Ada's request, I undo her restraints and Ada dives in, examining different cosmetics and asking granny questions. Granny seems utterly unsurprised that Ada apparently has an extensive knowledge of cosmetics, but I'm slightly taken aback before I remember that Ada is a sex slave: she literally exists to be a living ornament when I'm not putting her to... other, uses. Of course she knows makeup.

Having made her selection and gotten my approval without really knowing what she's buying or how much it costs, Ada then perks up with interest when granny suggests perfume as well. Liska's tail, which had been slowly swishing from side to side, jerks to a halt. She has an admirable pokerface, but her tail and ears give her away. Liska seems to think I can afford the makeup, but perfume is a problem.

Granny takes us back to the counter, placing the makeup there, and then takes a key from around her neck to open a small display case on the counter. Inside are a dozen or so tiny bottles of colored glass. Each one is so small, there's probably only enough perfume for half a dozen uses. Granny very carefully handles each bottle, pulling out the stopper and wafting the air with her hand so I can smell each one. The first couple irritate my sinuses, but they all smell nice. I decide on a green bottle with a delicate, flowery scent.

"How much is this one?" I ask, trying to act casual. Granny gives me a look that confirms what I thought before: if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

"Half a talos," she replies firmly. There will be no bartering in her shop. That's the same price I bought Ada for. A tiny bottle of perfume costs as much as a (slightly discounted) sex slave, who herself costs more than ten times what a field hand costs?

Then again, it makes sense. It takes ten thousand roses to make enough essential oil to fill a 5ml bottle smaller than my thumb. Given medieval agriculture methods, medieval methods for producing essential oils and extracts, and the immense amount of land required to grow enough plants, the labor involved, and so forth, it would be expensive. Ada has no reaction to hearing the price, probably because she has no concept of the value of money or even what she cost, but Liska blanches slightly.

"That seems fair for a bottle this small," I say, smiling pleasantly. That seems to throw granny off for a second, with the implication that I can afford larger bottles of perfume, but she recovers almost instantly and shuts and locks the display case, gingerly carrying the tiny bottle to the counter and setting it beside the makeup Ada selected.

The total for everything comes out to a full talos, plus a couple of the larger copper coins I never learned the name of. That's more than I paid for Liska, who to date was the second most expensive purchase I've made in this world, and roughly a fifth of the cost of my country manor. Cosmetics and perfume definitely seem to reside exclusively in the realm of the wealthy elite, if they command that sort of price. I pay up with exact change and granny warmly thanks me for my business and tells me to come back any time. I have the feeling if she got the impression I didn't have more money to spend, and my purchases would have cleaned out my hard-earned savings, she wouldn't have been nearly so friendly as I left her shop.

"Is that it?" I ask. Ada nods happily, still shifting awkwardly in her new shoes, and Liska bats her ears in affirmation; neither girl can think of anything else we need to pick up. So, with that settled, we make our way back to where Mushuk is waiting with the wwagon laden with groceries, Liska easily hops in, and I help Ada up into the wagon before settling in myself.

"Home, James," I say in my best impersonation of a stereotypical wealthy Englishman. Liska gives me an odd look, realizes I'm making some sort of joke or reference she can safely ignore, and then spouts gibberish at Mushuk, ordering him home.

As soon as we make it home, the horse having struggled to gain traction to pull the much heavier wagon through the same spot it slipped in earlier, I unload the girls from the wagon while Mushuk begins unloading the cargo, and lead them inside.

Both girls raise their chins so I can remove their leashes and hang them by the door, then present their backs to me so I can undo their cloth bindings. Ada practically dances in excitement as I lay out her purchases on the table.

"Undress me!" she enthusiastically says to Liska before standing still to let my shorter foxgirl undo buttons and strings to get her out of her clothes. It's cute having another girl dress her, but Ada really needs to learn to dress and undress on her own, just from a practical standpoint. She probably had to get Momma Cat to help her put her dress on when I told her to get dressed and pack everything to run when I came to retrieve my sword.

Fully nude, Ada gathers the makeup she selected in her arms and heads for the bathroom, Liska following behind. For once, it's Ada who is in her element and Liska who's out of her depth; honestly, it's an amusing reversal of the usual situation, with a mildly exasperated Liska having to explain basic things to an incredibly sheltered Ada.

I follow behind, amused and curious, and stand in the bathroom door to watch as Ada shaves her legs, crotch, and armpit, chattering enthusiastically about makeup, skin tone, complimenting the color of your eyes and hair, and so forth. Liska sits on the edge of the bathtub, tailtip twitching, looking vaguely distressed at having no idea what Ada is explaining to her.

I hope Ada really does know what she's talking about. Most girls in my world have no idea how to apply makeup and put on way too much, or use the wrong colors, or both. When guys say they prefer girls without makeup, they actually prefer girls who know how to apply makeup, they just don't realize it. Makeup is supposed to enhance your natural looks, not cover them up; if someone can tell you're wearing makeup from a distance, you're doing it wrong.

Or so I'm told. I did stage makeup in theater class in college and was pretty good at it, and I've had both my mother and a girl I dated once explain the same thing to me, but I'm honestly as clueless about such things as most men. I just know the more subtle and natural looking the makeup, the more attractive it is. When it looks like you've got clown makeup on, every guy in the room is turned off.

Having finished shaving herself smooth, Ada sits on the bathroom floor wariza-style, borrowing my little camping mirror, and begins applying makeup and fussing with her hair. Wow. It seems she really does know what she's doing; she was pretty before, but she's beautiful now.

She then follows up by applying makeup to her nipples, making them stand out more from her pale skin. I'm not sure it's necessary; breasts have a way of making themselves noticed, especially when there's nothing covering them, but the effect is interesting and definitely draws the eye.

"How do I look?"

"Very nice," I say with complete honesty. Liska murmurs a compliment of her own, apparently slightly awed at the effects of properly-applied makeup.

"Now let's do Liska's makeup!" Ada says, reaching for the cosmetics again. Liska seems startled, then carefully holds still, not even breathing much, as Ada first scrubs her face clean and dries it, then begins applying makeup with little brushes. It's not long before Ada leans back and places her hands proudly on her hips, declaring her work finished. Liska holds the mirror up to her face, ears laid back apprehensively at first, then slowly pricking up with interest as she examines herself.

Wow. Ada went from a very pretty girl to absolutely beautiful just from applying makeup. Liska went from the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life to heart-breakingly gorgeous. If I didn't already own her, I'd be sick with longing just from looking at her.

"I like it," I say again with complete honesty. Liska blushes enough to see it even under the makeup, ducking her head shyly as her ears twitch violently and her tail lashes back and forth violently for a moment. She's so cute when she's embarassed. Such a cute little foxgirl.

"Ada should wear her stockings and shoes," Liska says, hurriedly changing the subject. "It would be a shame to let them go to waste."

Ada sits up, giving me that puppydog eyes look that Liska pulls off much better. I nod my consent and she grins, bouncing cheerfully. Liska fetches her things and helps her into her garter belt, stockings, and shoes.

It's a nice look, having a girl naked except for thighhighs and mary janes. Frankly, it should be more fashionable back at home. Then again, more women are grossly overweight back home, so maybe not; I doubt many could pull the look off as well as Ada.

Mmm. Maybe I should get Liska to match Ada's outfit, or lack thereof, when we get home after the party. There's an idea.

Ada, completely without modesty, asks Momma Cat how she looks and twirls around, showing off her body, makeup, and new shoes and stockings. Liska translates and Momma Cat murmurs something complimentary about the both of them, then addresses me with a long line of gibberish.

"Macska says she's prepared dinner for Mushuk to take with him while he waits in the cart. She has a light snack for Ada as well. Since I'll be sampling everything master eats, I don't need to eat," Liska says.

"Ok. When should we leave?"

Liska looks through the window, twitches her tail once, then turns back to me and says, "Shortly. We'll need time to get there, of course."

Ada bounces on her toes, making a click-click sound in her new shoes.

"The perfume! We need to put on the perfume before we leave!"

"We'll wait until right before we leave," I tell her.

Ada gobbles down a small piece of cheese and some black bread when Momma Cat hands it to her, then carefully examines her makeup in the mirror to make sure it's still ok. Despite saying she wouldn't need to eat, Liska also nibbles on a small piece of bread. Momma Cat bundles up a small loaf of black bread, a wedge of cheese, and a couple of hardboiled eggs in a piece of cloth, presumably Mushuk's dinner. Receiving permission, Ada opens the tiny bottle of precious perfume, dabs a single drop on her wrist, and then rubs it onto her throat and upper chest. She then applies a single drop to Liska's wrist, and my little foxgirl awkwardly applies it to her throat as well. The bottle of perfume is handed to me, and I take it upstairs and set it on the dresser where it won't get lost or knocked over and spilled. I could have bought a second Ada for what I paid for that stuff, there's no way I'm letting it go to waste.

Ada allows me to bind her arms behind her back, then sticks her chest out proudly as she preens. Liska's hands remain free, given that she's officially going in her capacity as a servant rather than living decoration, and both girls raise their chins so I can clip their leashes to their collars.

Properly leashed, the girls follow me to the wagon, Liska passes Mushuk his dinner, and we climb in. The subtle, flowery scent as Liska sits right up against me on the bench and Ada sits in the wagon immediately behind me, is quite nice. I don't know that the perfume was 'I could have bought another pretty slave girl for this price' nice, but it's definitely nice. What the hell, my girls deserve some expensive makeup and perfume.

The ride into the city is fairly uneventful, though the guards at the gate stand at attention and admire Ada's bare chest as we pass by. Liska directs Mushuk to the duke's place, which Liska explains is just his town house so he can be located near the slave market and other important vendors, as well as the prince's castle, rather than always having to make the journey from his little duchy. We finally arrive, the sun low in the sky, at approximately an hour before sunset. Liska hops down, then hurries to assist Ada out of the wagon, not letting me do it while anyone important may be watching, and Mushuk drives the wagon over to where several fancy carriages and a couple more generic wagons like ours are waiting, their drivers chatting amicably or munching on their packed dinners.

Liska smooths out her dress, fusses with Ada's hair for a moment, then crosses her hands in front of her, batting her ears once to signal her readiness. Ada is sticking her modest, but still very attractive, chest out to be as noticeable as possible, and clearly in her element. They're as ready as they'll ever be. The real question is, am I?

Taking a deep breath, I step up to the ornate door with its white paint and gold filigree, and reach for the knocker.

Chapter 20: The Duke

>>26734

Basically, yes. I'm still up in the air about how much the MC is adapting to the rules of the new world he finds himself in and how much is him giving in to his true nature; I'm inclined to think it's mostly the former for most things, but definitely the latter when it comes to his buying Liska and Ada.

Oh, by the way: the next chapter is done.

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I barely give a single knock on the door, when a man in a colorful red and yellow striped outfit and a matching hat opens the door, then bows stiffly with his poofy collar and ushers me in.

Huh. This door doesn't use the typical string and lever to secure it; it's a modern looking door handle. You turn the handle to rotate a locking block into the door frame. A modern door handle is spring loaded so it returns to its closed position as soon as you let go, and instead of a block of iron it has a more sophisticated wedge that's also spring loaded so the door can close even with the handle in the closed position, but honestly modern door knobs aren't that much more sophisticated than this one.

Stepping past the door man, I enter a short hallway or antechamber with rows of coat hooks on the walls. I assume they're coat hooks, because there's no way you could fit one slave per hook in this little entry room if the hooks were meant for keeping your slave on their leash like the hooks at the slave dealer. The door man confirms my guess when he offers to take my jacket and hangs it on a hook for me.

"This way, my lord."

The door man leads me further into the enormous mansion, which I have to remind myself is just the duke's town house. He doesn't live here full time, only when he's in town to do business or throw a party. It's a two story house, and my country manor would probably only take up a quarter of one floor. It's also a lot more richly decorated than my house, and I'm starting to get the feeling that even though I'm enormously wealthy by the average person's standards, there is a huge disparity between someone like me and the duke. Like, I'm some hick who just won the lottery and bought a bigger mobile home than everyone else in my backwater town, but the duke is Bill Gates. There's no comparison.

Speaking of the duke, he walks into the room, dressed in a very nice shirt, a light jacket with tails, knee-length breeches, white tights, and slip-on leather shoes. It's a very smart ensemble, and I'm really starting to feel underdressed.

"Ah, lord Schulz! You're the first to arrive; how fortuitous."

"My lord," I say, bowing slightly in the manner Ada had coached me in. Liska was the one who said I needed to improve my manners when interacting with nobility, but it was Ada who actually explained the protocol for this sort of party in detail. Liska gathers her skirt in her hands and curtsies behind me, tail making a dramatic left-to-right sweep as she does, and Ada, naked and arms bound behind her back, still manages to give a credible curtsy of her own. It's clearly something she's practiced before.

"My, such formality! Usually my guests' slaves just stand there like they're part of the furniture."

"Thank you for inviting me into your home," I say. The duke waves it off and breezily says something about dropping the formalities, then approaches Liska, holding her chin in his hand so she has to look him in the eye instead of averting her eyes in deference.

"And how are you, my dear? I hope you're feeling better than the other day."

Liska's ears flutter violently and her tail lashes once, as my little foxgirl is consternated at being directly addressed by someone of such importance. She manages to nod once, not speaking, and he chuckles and pats her gently on the cheek. He then looks Ada up and down and comments, "My, how lovely." Ada inclines her head to acknowledge the compliment, but avoids looking directly at the duke or otherwise reacting. She's along as decoration, and not meant to interact with anyone, after all. "And properly trained too, I see," the duke chuckles.

"Well!" he says briskly, straightening to attention and facing me. "Since you're here before everyone else, no doubt due to them all wishing to be fashionably late, would you care to join me in my study? I had hoped for the opportunity to speak with you privately."

I glance at the girls and he says, "Oh, they don't count. Come, come!" and marches off down the hall, the doorman remaining in the antechamber to answer the door when the duke's other guests arrive. Shrugging mentally, I follow the duke, the girls trailing behind me on their leashes.

Following the duke into one of the rooms in the enormous hallway, sparing only a glance at some of the fancy paintings decorating it, I step in and find myself in a very tastefully arranged study/library. Wood boiserie, massive bookshelves built into the walls and filled with leatherbound books of every description, an enormous tapestry of knights arming themselves and mounting horses hanging over an equally enormous fireplace, and at the end of the room nearest the door, a large desk made of polished wood, a wetbar, and several upholstered chairs. It seemed like the perfect room to sit in, drinking cognac and smoking cigars, and talking about whatever rich people talk about. Probably how to acquire more money.

"Brandy?" the duke asks, pouring two glasses before I even have the chance to answer. "Oh, close the door, would you?"

The door to the study has the same sort of handle as the front door, so I have to take care to turn the handle before shutting it, then turn the handle again to keep it shut. Turning back to the room, I don't see any hooks for me to hang the girls' leashes; then again, my house only has hooks by the front door, so why would the duke's have them anywhere else?

I settle for handing the leashes to Liska to hold for me. Liska had previously said it was protocol to have a slave hold her own leash if the situation didn't require her master to hold it and there was nothing to secure it to. She also mentioned that having one slave hold another's leash signaled that the one holding the leash was higher in rank, or at least more favored, than the one whose leash was being held by another. She seemed concerned that Ada may feel dissatisfied with a public display of her lower rank, given how prideful she was of being a high class sex slave and the friction this caused initially when she didn't want to take orders from Liska, whom she thought wasn't in very good standing at the time. But Ada makes no reaction to Liska holding her leash and is instead staring off into space at the far end of the room, seemingly just a living, breathing nude statue. The duke was right; she is well trained for this role.

The duke passes me a snifter of brandy, but before I even get the opportunity to taste it, Liska steps forward and holds out her free hand. Oh, right. She's my official taster. I hand the glass to her and she sniffs it carefully, doing a credible job of keeping her nose from wrinkling in disgust but doing a poorer job of keeping her ears from laying back, then she takes a full swallow from the glass before handing it back. Her eyes are watering, but she says nothing. The duke is grinning though and raises his own snifter in salute to her before tossing back half his brandy.

I take a much more cautious sip, and find it to be pretty good. I'm a whiskey drinker myself, but brandy is... pretty good, actually. It's not as harsh as even really smooth scotch can be, and it has a nice, smoky aftertaste. This is good stuff.

The duke, cradling his snifter in his hand, takes note of my reaction and says, "It should be good; it was aged in the barrel for a hundred years, after all."

Oh shit.

Cognac back home comes in different grades: VP, VSOP, and XO, ranked according to how old the youngest brandy in the blend is. To qualify as XO, which is top shelf stuff, the youngest brandy in the blend has to be ten years old. Louis XIII, a cognac aged for a century, sells for around $5,000 a bottle. And the duke just poured me a glass. I take another, careful sip; if I'm drinking the good stuff, I'm going to take my time doing it.

"So. To business," the duke says, tossing back the rest of his glass before refilling it. "First, I would like to keep this informal. So please, call me Hiram. Let's save the 'my lord' nonsense for when the other guests arrive."

"Roland," I reply. I guess when a duke says you're on a first name basis, you're on a first name basis.

"Well then, Roland. First off, I should like to apologize for that debacle the other day. The dueling, that is," he says, as if he had to elaborate. I had to fight for my life for the first time ever, and I killed a guy. I don't think it's something you need to elaborate on for me to remember. "I played a part in that, however unintentionally, which is why I offered to stand as your second. Still, it would be amiss of me not to apologize."

"I appreciate that, m- Hiram." Dammit. I almost said 'my lord'. I'm an American; I've never been that formal, and now I'm doing it automatically just because I decided to make an effort to do it today? Geez.

The duke smiles, obviously catching my near verbal slip, and I take another drink of brandy. Damn, this is good stuff.

"Second, I'd like to apologize and warn you in advance: I invited Adebelle Glisko, lord Glisko's sister, to dinner this evening. I verbally insulted her to her face, and then you mussed up her brother's face and killed his friend lord Akar, so it's important for me to repair bridges before I burn them too badly. I do have a need to do business, of course, and I can't be making enemies unnecessarily."

"I understand," I reply. Liska's tail lashes once, and the duke's eyes obviously didn't miss it, since he says, "I do believe she'll be on her best behavior this evening, of course. As my guest, she wouldn't want to upset the host."

I finish my brandy and the duke leans over and pours me another glass without asking. I didn't really want more, particularly since I'd rather avoid being drunk in case this Glisko bitch decides to start a Hatfield-McCoy feud with me, but if he's willing to be generous with the good stuff, who am I to say no?

Liska reaches out again and I let her take another sip from the glass. She passes it back, eyes watering and coughing slightly. The duke seems amused.

"It's only protocol to sample the first glass, my dear, not every time it's filled."

Liska does her best to maintain her composure and stop coughing, but doesn't respond to the duke's gentle chiding, nor does he seem to expect a response. As he said before, slaves are just part of the furniture most of the time.

"Lord Glisko himself won't be attending, naturally, given the difficulty of eating with several missing teeth. Hence, why I invited his sister."

I nod my understanding, taking another swig of brandy to cover my discomfort at having to eat at the same table with the bitch.

"And finally, I was hoping you would indulge my curiosity, Roland..."

"Yes?"

"What WAS that thing you killed lord Akar with?"

I blink once, then respond with, "My pistol."

"Pistol?" The duke obviously doesn't understand the word. Did it not translate? What are the limits of the magical bullshit translation that lets people understand me?

"My handgun." That still doesn't seem to have clarified things, so I say, "A firearm."

"A fire... arm? I saw no fire. I'm afraid I don't understand," the duke says, in the tone of a man who expects answers when he demands them and doesn't enjoy looking stupid in front of others.

Realization slowly begins to dawn. Do... do they not have guns here?

I reach down and pat the Luger holstered on my hip and the duke looks at it curiously, but there's no recognition in his eyes. Even if it's completely different from a wheellock or matchlock musket or pistol of the era, the basic shape and mechanism of a firearm remains the same; if you've seen one gun of any description, you instantly recognize another gun, even if it functions very differently.

He doesn't recognize it. Come to think of it, back in the toy store I bought Liska that stuffed pig in, they had little lead soldiers, but none of them had guns. They don't have guns here.

The implications for technology, industry, and warfare are overwhelming, but all I can hear is cash register sounds.

"Hiram... do they not have firearms in this country?"

He shakes his head, tossing back half his brandy and gritting his teeth. Yep. He feels stupid. I'd better fix that before I piss him off. And take advantage of the situation I find myself in.

He freezes when he sees the huge grin forming on my face and sets down his glass.

"I've never heard of a 'fire arm' or any of the other things you called it. Perhaps, Roland, you would care to elaborate?" he says in the voice of someone clearly bracing for some sort of revalation.

"It's a projectile weapon," I reply. "Very powerful, more powerful than a crossbow, with greater range. In my country," I say, not bothering to explain that I'm from a whole other universe, "Swords, spears, and the like are obsolete. Purely ceremonial. Entire armies are armed only with firearms."

"Really? I've never heard of such a thing."

"It's a long way back to my home country," I say dryly. "I'm reasonably certain I'm the first person to ever visit Brohemia from there."

"Still, I should have heard at least rumors of such fantastic weaponry. More power and greater range than a crossbow, you say?"

I nod.

"Could you demonstrate? It certainly seemed impressive when you slew Lord Akar, but I'm afraid I need to see it for myself before I believe it."

I have a couple boxes of ammunition for the Luger. I can afford to fire one round to demonstrate its function, especially for what I have in mind.

The duke marches over to a couple pieces of armor on display between bookshelves and grabs a chestplate off the wall, setting it in front of the fireplace.

"Could your weapon pierce that? A crossbow could, at this distance, and if your 'fire arm' is more powerful than a crossbow..."

The Luger I have is in its original caliber; the 9mm round is more powerful than the 7.65mm Luger caliber. And depending on the quality of the steel in that armor... I may just dent it. Then again, I could also punch right through. But either way, I'm having doubts.

"I wouldn't want to damage your chestplate," I say, pointing at the gold filigree decorating it. "It looks expensive."

The duke waves dismissively and says, "I've got a couple dozen of them decorating this place. And if you pierce it, now instead of a dull piece of decoration, it'll be a dull piece of decoration with an interesting story behind it."

Shrugging, I say, "Ok, but we should do this outdoors. I don't want to damage anyth-"

"Get on with it," the duke says, both impatient and amused. Liska reaches up to cover her ears, then glances at Ada. Cringing, she steps behind Ada and does her best to cover her ears with her elbows, prompting Ada to look extremely confused at Liska's odd behavior and almost break character.

I cover one ear with my free hand as I draw the Luger, not looking forward to firing even a pistol indoors. I have hearing protection, but it's back at the house. The duke, obviously remembering the noise from last time and taking his cue from the rest of us, also covers his ears.

POP!

Both my ears are ringing, even the one I had covered. The spent brass from the Luger, ejected straight up, actually lands on my elbow and I grab it with my other hand before it burns me too badly and drop it in my pocket. Ada looks dumbstruck, and I'm sure if her hands weren't bound behind her back she'd be covering her ears. Liska and the duke both certainly look as if they didn't enjoy the noise.

I step forward to examine the damage, and the duke quickly joins me. There's a small, .30-caliber hole in the breastplate right where the heart would be. The marble of the fireplace behind it has a gouge, with cracks running outward.

"I'm sorry about the fireplace," I say, wondering if the duke expects me to pay for the damage. I mean, I can probably afford it, but if you think about it it's really his fault.

The duke is a good sport though and waves it off, examining both the piece of armor and the fireplace with excited interest. Then he looks at my Luger the way a fat man looks at a Subway sandwich, or the way Jared from Subway looks at a little boy.

"To think something so small should be so powerful! I would need a full-sized crossbow or a longbow to penetrate this armor and strike the stone with such force! How does it work?"

"It's... complicated," I say, uncertain how to explain the workings of an early 1900's pistol to a man from the early 1600's. "It involves both a mechanism and chemistry."

The duke doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but seems like he's trying to think of how to word a more specific question. I decide to preempt him and make my move, the one I planned on the instant I discovered that guns don't exist here.

"Would you like one of your own?"

The duke gives me a look so intense I almost step back in alarm.

"You can do this?!"

I nod. "I can't make one as complex as this," I say, hefting the Luger, "But if we met a skilled blacksmith I could tell him enough to let him build a cruder version. We'll also need to visit a chemist in order to make the ammunition."

"Yes! That would be wonderful!" Hiram exclaims enthusiastically. He strides back over to the desk and finishes off his brandy, then turns back to face me with a gleam in his eyes.

"I've never heard of such a weapon! Having one of my own would be marvelous!"

Ok, time to temper his expectations to keep them more in line with reality.

"As I said, I couldn't tell a smith how to build one this sophisticated. Any guns he made would be cruder, more primitive than this. And there would be a lot of trial and error involved before we made one that would work safely and reliably. But I'm sure it can be done."

The duke is practically cackling with excitement. Which means now that he's taken the bait, it's time to set the hook.

"And it would be very expensive, I'm sure. Of course, once we had a smith who knew how to build one, he could produce more... a lot more. Enough for an army, perhaps."

The duke stands wide-eyed, struck by the thought, then slowly says, "Yes, enough for an army... And they surely would be terribly expensive. But having an entire house guard armed with such weapons, or, or..."

He trails off as he suddenly sees the implications of what I'm suggesting. Medieval armies around the 1600's mostly used pikes wielded by men marching in formation. If one side had muskets and the other just had pikes, it would be a one-sided massacre. In a world without firearms, the man who wields the guns is the man who makes the rules. And the man who manufactures and sells the guns is going to be incredibly wealthy. The world is about to undergo a massive revolution in technology, warfare, and politics. And this is the duke's- and my- opportunity to get in on the ground floor.

Just then, the door opens and a pair of footmen in the same red-and-yellow uniforms as the doorman appear, short swords in their hands.

"My lord? There was a noise-"

"Yes yes, it's fine! Leave us!"

The guards sheath their swords and back out of the room, confused, and shut the door behind them. How far away from the study were they if it took them that long to show up to what they thought might have been a threat to the duke's safety? This 'townhouse' is enormous. And the duke must think I'm trustworthy if it took a gunshot to summon his guards; if I were armed with something quiet like a dagger or a bow, would anyone hear the duke call for help in time to save him? Either he's very trusting, or it simply didn't occur to him that I might be a threat.

Rubbing his hands together excitedly, the duke approaches me and then puts one arm around my shoulder.

"My boy, I have a proposal for you. Perhaps we should go into business, you and I. See about making these... 'fire arms'. And if they prove practicable as military weapons and not merely novelties, perhaps there's some money to be made..."

"Hiram, I was thinking just the same thing," I answer, the huge grin crossing my face again. The duke looks me in the eye and something seems to give him pause. Maybe he's realizing my ambitions are as great as his now. Or maybe he's scared and suspicious of this foreigner who knows about miracle weapons and is offering to produce them for him. Regardless, maybe I should be more careful. I've already had Giros and his two lackeys conspire to kill me simply for showing up in town and throwing money around; if the duke thinks I'm an arms dealer looking to destabilize the region or even take over...

"We should meet again soon," the duke says, clapping me on the shoulder and letting go of me. "I very much would like to sort out the details of some sort of arrangement between us. But I'm afraid tonight is a simple dinner party and not occasion for talking business."

There's a knock on the door and the duke, in an exasperated voice, calls out, "Yes?"

The door opens and the doorman is there this time.

"My lord, other guests have begun to arrive."

"Speaking of which... I'll be there shortly, thank you." Turning to face me again, the duke claps me on the shoulder a second time and says, "Well, my lord, I believe it's time to ready for supper. Come, let me show you to the dining hall."

I'm 'my lord' again. The time for first name-familiarity is over and we're back to formality again. I gesture for him to lead the way and, holstering my Luger, accept both of my girls' leashes from Liska.

Tonight is certainly turning out to be more interesting that I had bargained for. I wonder how the rest of the evening is going to turn out.

Chapter 21: Dinner Party

"New chapter soon, fellow Stalker!"

"Oh really, when?"

"NOW."

------------

The other dinner guests begin making their appearance as soon as we walk into the main hall of the duke's mansion. Some weasely-looking guy with a pencil mustache and an enormous, incredibly flamboyant pimp hat and poofy collar greets the duke like they know each other pretty well, which they probably do. He's accompanied by a tall, slender woman in a green dress with platinum blonde hair and pointed ears that I assume is an elf. Huh. I always thought elves would be more ethereal looking, you know, Tolkien-esque. She just looks like a normal, very attractive, woman with pointy ears. She's wearing a slave collar, but her hands are free and she doesn't have a leash on.

The next guest is the fattest man I've seen since arriving in this world, but by no means the fattest person I've seen at home. He looks like Winston Churchill with hair and a beard. Unlike the elf lady, his slave is on a leash; she steps out of her sandals, leaving them in the entry way, and stands in the nude, arms bound behind her back in the typical fashion. She's really attractive, but there's nothing really special about her going on, so after an appreciative look at her huge... tracts of land, I turn my attention to the next guest, who just walked in the door.

This guy has to be some sort of eccentric, because he has a ponytail, in contrast to the short hair of every other man I've met so far, an unkempt ZZ Top beard, and his clothes are much shabbier than I would expect from someone the duke would voluntarily associate with. He's accompanied by two slaves, a man with his hands free and no leash on his collar, and a nude catgirl, leashed and bound. The male slave is wearing nicer clothes than his owner.

Duke Hiram introduces me as a foreigner who recently settled in the country and who is looking at investing in local business; I promptly forget everyone's names, not for lack of trying, but weasely guy is a textile merchant who specializes in importing exotic dyes and fabrics from overseas, the fat guy is a baron whose money is invested in cattle, and the shabby guy who smells like he hasn't bathed in a couple of days is a musician. Because what else would he be.

Liska's ears perk up when the duke introduces him, and when nobody is looking she stands on tiptoe to whisper, "He's the most popular composer in the entire kingdom! Every noble is on a waiting list to get a private performance from him." Well, rock me Amadeus. He actually seems like a pretty chill guy and, in a move I'm sure would be considered odd by everyone else, he shakes my hand and introduces me to his slaves. Again, I don't catch their names, but he describes the man as his personal assistant and the catgirl as 'nice to look at'. Then he immediately wanders off, slaves in tow, asking no one in particular if there will be peaches for dessert. Ok then.

With that, we move to the dining hall, the duke chatting with the baron about the price of cattle in the west, and we're all seated at the longest table I've ever seen. The baron sits only a few seats away from the duke, and the merchant a few seats down from him. I'm guided to a seat on the opposite side of the table, about half a dozen seats down from the duke, and secure Ada's leash to a hook on the left side of the back of my chair, and Liska's on the right. Ada stands just to the left and behind me, in the sort of practiced position of someone who knows they're going to be standing a long time, like a soldier at parade rest. She then just stares off at nothing. She really was trained to blend in with the furniture, wasn't she?

Liska whispers in my ear, "This is a good seat, near the duke. He thinks favorably of you." and then drops into a kneeling position right up against my chair, tail curled around in her lap and her hands neatly folded atop it.

A woman in a simple dress in the duke's red-and-yellow colors places a glass of water on the table for me, then retreats. I don't manage to see if she's wearing a slave collar or not.

When I reach for the glass to take a drink, Liska clears her throat. Oh, right. She's my taster for the evening. I hold the glass down at her level and she sips from it, then lays her ears back in distaste. I know well water around here tastes a little funky, but it can't be that bad- Oh. There's a small amount of alcohol in the water. I guess it isn't safe to drink otherwise.

As Benjamin Franklin once said, 'in wine there is wisdom, in beer there is happiness, and in water there is bacteria.' Did Benjamin Franklin say that? I think Benjamin Franklin said that. I can't look it up to be sure. I miss the internet.

More guests are arriving, every single one accompanied by a slave. One or two slaves are in the plain tunics of a low-class (or recently purchased) slave, but most of them are nicely clothed. The ones wearing clothing either have very fancy, very expensive outfits, or clothing a peasant could have afforded; Liska's dress, apron, and stockings ensemble isn't as fancy as the top-tier outfits of some of the slaves, but it's definitely better than what most of them are wearing. And as Liska said, the nicer your slave looks, the better off you must be, so her cute fox ears and dress set her apart as expensive and high-class. By extension, that means I must be high-class too, since I can afford an expensive slave and have her wear a nice outfit.

Several slaves are nude like Ada, and every one is quite attractive. No nude men though, thank God. The last thing I want to see while I'm eating is some dude's junk on display. Actually, the only male slaves are the musician guy's assistant and a butler-looking guy whose leash is hooked to the elaborately carved wooden wheelchair he's pushing with an elderly man in it. All the other slaves are females of varying ages and descriptions, mostly on the younger side.

One girl, nude and arms bound behind her back, has her leash held by another slave in a shimmery purple dress that must be made of silk or something similar. The nude girl is, interestingly, blindfolded, and the other girl, who I assume must be higher-ranking since she's holding the nude girl's leash and her master is holding hers, is directing her by shortening the leash and tugging it to guide the blindfolded girl around without her running into things. Liska is watching in apparent fascination as they head for the far end of the table, away from the duke. I wonder what the point of the blindfold is. Like, is it punishment, or just kinky?

A couple of the duke's guests are women, and they also bring slaves along. One woman is in a gorgeous green backless dress, and her slave is in a gorgeous green frontless dress. No, really, tits on display and everything. I guess even the women want to show off that they can afford an attractive slave.

And there she is. Just as the table is starting to get full with guests and their slaves, the bitch herself, Adebelle Glisko, makes her entrance. She has a young girl, maybe twelve years old, in tow; poor thing looks exhausted and has a fading bruise on one cheek. The bitch queen yanks on her leash unnecessarily, then hooks it to her chair and sits. Her friend from the party, also with slave in tow, sits beside her.

They're almost directly across the table from me. Lovely. Adebelle glares at me from across the table, then glares at the pair of orange, fuzzy ears just visible above the table from where Liska is kneeling on the floor beside me. She looks Ada up and down, then seems to dismiss her mentally, instead turning to talk with her friend. Good. Let's just ignore each other from now on.

That appears to be all the invited guests for the evening, as women and a couple men wearing red-and-yellow and slave collars all step into the room to serve dinner. The musician wanders back into the room and sits right next to the duke, his nude catgirl kneeling beside him like Liska, and his assistant tucking some papers under his arm and standing right behind his chair.

The plate set before me is some sort of salad; the only greens I recognize on the plate appear to be dandelion leaves. I spear a bit on a fork and then hold it out for Liska, who leans forward and eats it. Hnnng! Feeding a girl by hand is awesome. You look so cute, Liska; maybe I should feed her like this more often.

Liska having gotten her bite, I proceed to eat the salad; it's not bad. Some of the greens on the plate have a very strong, herbal taste, others are delicate and sweet. There's a very light layer of oil and vinegar, and what must be parmesan cheese on the salad. Not bad. I prefer modern salad dressings, but this is probably healthier for me.

The salad is gone quickly, having been a very small one. I assume it's just the first of several courses. Ah, looks like I'm right. A servant just set a small bowl of soup in front of me.

It's a clear soup, with little specks of herbs and spices floating in it. I scoop up a spoonful and hold it out for Liska, careful not to spill any; she leans forward, slurps in the soup, then leans back again, and I proceed to eat the soup. Hmm. Not bad. Very light, seems to be mostly vegetable broth with a hint of chicken to it.

Soup finished in only a few mouthfuls, my bowl is collected and another plate with what appears to be the main course is brought out and set before me, alongside a glass of wine.

I'm not sure what this is. Pot roast and some sort of glazed vegetables? I poke the vegetables with my fork, then cut them and the meat into smaller bites, spear a bit of meat on the fork, and hold it out for Liska, who nibbles on it with erect ears indicating enjoyment. I take the next bite and it really is quite delicious. I think it's venison.

Next, the vegetables. There seem to be two varieties in the mix, so I spear the odd purple-and-black vegetable and feed a piece to Liska; she seems indifferent. I follow up with the yellowish-white vegetable and Liska's ears rotate to the sides in displeasure. Ok, she doesn't like that one.

I try the purple-and-black one and... oh. It's a carrot. I forgot that modern carrots are only orange because of selective breeding; wild varieties are all kinds of colors, including this blackish-purple variety. I was never a fan of cooked carrots, but with the glaze on it, they're not too bad. I try the whitish vegetable and nearly gag.

Gross. Asparagus. I don't understand how anyone enjoys this stuff. And it makes your pee smell too.

Well, both Liska and Ada assured me that it was rude to leave uneaten food on your plate, but that it was perfectly acceptable to feed anything you didn't like to your slave instead of eating it yourself.

Sorry Liska. My little foxgirl maintains an admirable pokerface when she sees me spear more asparagus and direct the fork toward her, but her ears flatten out to the sides in dismay. I eat most of the carrots, even though I don't care for them, but all the asparagus goes to Liska; I give her a couple more bites of meat to make up for it.

I also don't care much for the wine; it's fortified, like port wine, and sweet. I enjoy some good scotch every now and again, but undistilled drinks like wine and beer just have too much of that 'moldy fruit/grain' flavor to them. I drink a little, since everyone else is on their second or third glass by now, but give the rest to Liska. When a servant comes to refill my glass, I cover it with my hand and he backs off.

Now for the dessert, it seems. My plate and wine glass are whisked away, and a small plate and another wine glass are set before me. Liska's ears perk back up when I spoon a little of the white gelatinous stuff into her mouth, then I try some myself; oh, it's blanc mange. Without the vanilla. Hmm.

I have Liska take a sip from the glass, which appears to hold more wine of a different variety, meant to compliment the desert. I drink a little, then have Liska finish it off, prompting her ears to flatten out again. Poor Liska. I didn't make the rules of dinner etiquette.

Dessert finished, our dishes are whisked away, except for the water glasses, and conversation begins. That was a very fast meal, and nobody was talking the entire time except to order slaves around. It seems that now that everyone has eaten, it's time to talk.

"You know," Adebelle Glisko says to her friend, whose name I never caught, "I'm rather disappointed with that new shipment of slaves. There wasn't anything special in the entire lot. Well, they had a vixen in the shipment; I was seriously considering buying her, but somebody had already bought her before I arrived."

"What would you even want with one of those dirty things?" her friend asked, glancing at Liska and making it clear what the point of the conversation really was. Do they genuinely hate vixens, like Liska mentioned, or are they just being mean to her specifically in any way they can? What's the point? Before it was to try to antagonize me so Adebelle's brother could challenge me to a duel, but are they really such spiteful bitches that they'll keep it up now?

Yes. Yes they are. Especially given that they quite probably still hold a grudge for me knocking out her brother's teeth and humiliating him in public, and killing that other guy.

"I thought I might shave its tail and parade it around town like that. They have such ugly, rat tails when you get all that nasty fur out of the way. Maybe if they saw vixens for what they really are, you wouldn't have so many idiot men drooling over them."

Well, now I'm doubly glad I reserved that little blonde for myself. Mostly because she's mine now, but also because it means keeping her out of this bitch's clutches.

Liska leans her head against my leg and I reach down to gently scratch her ears. I don't think she's supposed to be this 'familiar' with me in a semi-formal setting like this, but whatever.

"But no," Adebelle continues, now directing her gaze at Ada, who's still standing behind my left shoulder. "All they had left by the time I got there was run-of-the-mill slaves and discounted damaged goods. Nothing worth bothering with."

I look at Ada's reflection in the glass as I pick up my water to take a sip, and she's completely expressionless, staring into nothing. She gives no indication of having heard the insult meant for her; she's either zoned out and paying no attention to anything around her, or really well trained for this sort of thing. Probably the latter. I may have underestimated my pretty sex slave just a little.

Unable to get me to take the bait or elicit a reaction from either of my slaves, Adebelle is visibly annoyed and proceeds to ignore us for the rest of the evening, instead conversing with her friend about parties, who invited who, who wore what, and other tedious, mind-numbing crap I couldn't have cared less about even if I didn't think she was a waste of oxygen.

The man to my left turns to me, glancing down at Liska receiving her ear scritches and smiling slightly, then introduces himself as Thurl.

"I'm Lord Schulz."

"Ah, a foreigner?"

"Yes."

"And what brings you to our lands, my lord?"

I shrug, having no way of explaining 'I was magically abducted and stranded in another world', and decide on Liska's theory for my origins.

"Well, my older brother-" Nonexistent. "-was going to inherit the estate and title from my father, leaving me with only a small inheritance. So I decided to strike out on my own and see where fortune took me."

Liska is peeking up at me, ears pricked with interest, as I have now confirmed her guess about my life circumstances. She was wrong and I'm lying through my teeth right now, but she can believe what she wants to believe. It's a harmless lie anyway; the truth would get me laughed at for being insane or a liar.

"And what do you do for a living, Thurl?"

Thurl, it turns out, is a book seller. He takes commissions from nobles or the wealthy, orders a book made from the local monastary, and when the book is finished he delivers it.

"Sounds interesting. How much do books usually go for in this region?" Historically, they were quite expensive when they were all written out by hand. It wasn't until the printing press and cheaper paper became available that commoners could afford books.

"Oh, I might trade two or three for the likes of her," Thurl says, gesturing at Ada. Assuming he's referring to her discounted price, that's expensive, but not obscenely so. If Ada were sold for full price though, that would mean books cost about as much as that little bottle of perfume. And the duke has an entire library full of books just down the hall.

Yeah. That's the difference between someone who's independently wealthy like me, and someone who's actually rich like the duke. Assuming I sold every one of my aluminum coins for the same price that Giros was giving me, I'd have to spend half my gold just stocking a library the same size as his. I suddenly feel like a small fish in a very large pond.

Thurl and I chat about the book trade for a while longer, when I notice that some of the guests are getting up to leave. I glance at my watch and see that it's much later than I thought.

Crap. Mushuk has a lantern on the wagon, but the only other light source we have is the flashlight on the phone I still carry in my pocket out of habit. I left my real flashlight at the house. It's going to be DARK heading back. Most city people have no idea how dark it really gets at night because of all the light pollution from buildings, cars, street lights, signs, etc. Anyone who lives in the country or gets out of the city on a regular basis is fully aware of just how pitch black the night can really be if the moon isn't out. I should have known better; I camp all the friggin' time.

The duke, who's been standing there talking to a couple of other guys in fancy outfits, makes his way over to where I'm sitting, thanks Thurl for coming to his dinner party, Thurl thanks him for the invitation, and then excuses himself.

"So," The duke says to me now that we're quasi alone. "It's rather late. I don't suppose you have a place to stay in the city? I understand you live in a country estate..."

"No," I reply, not confident in finding the inn this late at night, or looking forward to having to go back there. "I'll have to make my way home in the dark, I suppose." Honestly, I really should have planned for this better, since I knew it would be late when we left the party.

"Why don't you stay the night in one of my guest rooms? I'll have someone look after your carriage man for you, and you can sleep upstairs. I have a few other guests who'll be staying the night, and I thought perhaps you might speak to them in the morning about certain... business opportunities."

"Ah. That's very generous of you, my lord," I say, catching his drift. "I believe I'll take you up on your offer."

"Splendid," he says with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'll have someone guide you to your room. Should you need anything, just ring the bell."

"Thank you. Goodnight, my lord."

"And good night to you, my lord."

Bowing slightly, the duke favors me with another smile and I can practically hear the cash register sounds in his head as he walks away to see some more of his guests off. Yeah. He really likes my idea of building a gun for himself.

A woman in a red dress with yellow sleeves walks over and bows to me before gesturing for me to follow her. Actually, now that I look around, none of the duke's slaves or hired servants are wearing uniforms; all of them are wearing red-and-yellow outfits, but they're all different. I guess that makes sense; uniforms as such didn't really catch on during the Thirty Years War; soldiers and mercenaries basically wore whatever they could get, and used 'gang colors' to tell who was on whose side. Armor was pretty standardized for standing armies, but that was more because they were produced by the same armorers rather than an actual attempt at making them look identical. It's easier to make a dozen of the same thing than a dozen unique things. But if that's the case, shouldn't the duke's slaves/servants have outfits that are nearly identical? Maybe he doesn't have the same tailor make them outfits?

I stand up to follow her, grabbing both my girls' leashes from the back of the chair, and Liska stands... and almost faceplants into the table, tail flailing wildly to keep her balance. She manages to steady herself, but one look at her face tells me what's wrong.

She's drunk. My little foxgirl is drunk.

I guess that makes sense. She drank some of that brandy, she drank both glasses of wine, one of which was fortified, girls can't hold their liquor as well as men due to biology, and factor in the fact that she's tiny and weighs maybe half as much as a girl her size should... yeah, she's plastered.

Poor little fox.

"Ada."

Ada steps forward, not knowing what the situation is, but obeying without hesitation, and I steer Liska over so she can cling to Ada to steady herself. Liska is holding on to Ada's right arm with both hands, tail drooping behind her, ears laid back, and her eyes glazed. Oh man, she's really wasted; maybe I should have drank the wine myself.

Ada can't do much but give Liska someone to hold onto, since her arms are bound behind her back, but she keeps a pace Liska can keep up with and lets her lean her weight against her. Holding their leashes slack so I don't accidentally tug Liska off her feet, I follow the duke's servant down the hall, up a ridiculously large staircase, into another hallway. We stop in front of a door and the servant opens it for us, ushering us inside.

"The rooms nearby are empty, so my lord will have privacy and quiet. Should my lord need anything, just ring the bell."

"Thank you," I say, apparently surprising her by saying anything at all, and she bows and retreats back down the hall toward the stairwell.

Closing the door behind me and shooting the bolt home to lock it, I turn and look around the room. Fancy. Hard to make out details, since the only light is coming from a set of candles by the bed, but the room is large and looks as luxurious and well decorated as the rest of the mansion.

Liska is slowly leaning over, so I drop both girls' leashes and scoop her up, carrying her to the bed princess style while she giggles. Yeah, she's out of it; it's probably best to just let her sleep it off. I lay her on the bed, unsnap the leash from her collar, roll it up, and place it on the nightstand. Then I slip her shoes off and drop them on the floor, pull back the blankets, and slide Liska under them. She curls into a ball, tail dangling off the side of the bed, and almost immediately goes to sleep. Wow. It didn't take much alcohol, did it?

"What's wrong with Liska? Is she sick?"

"No," I reply, turn to Ada and removing her leash. "She's just drunk."

"Oh. Is that what getting drunk is like?"

"It can be," I say, removing her restraints and tossing them on the nightstand next to both leashes. "If you've had too much."

Ada stretches her arms and legs, stiff from standing there throughout the entire dinner, then steps out of her shoes awkwardly, clearly trying to imitate the way she's seen Liska do it. Then she starts fumbling to unbutton her stockings from her garter belt.

"Do you want help?"

"I can do it," she replies, clearly struggling. Well, I wanted her to learn to dress and undress herself, so might as well start now if she wants to. She's buttoned Liska's tail into her dress for her, I'm sure she can figure out the buttons on her garter belt work.

Going around to the other side of the bed so I avoid squashing Liska, I remove my boots and pants and, not seeing anywhere else to put them, just toss them on the floor by the bed and stretch myself out on the bed.

I glance over at Ada as she does some sort of celebratory hopping over getting her stockings and garter belt off all by herself, and she places them on the nightstand with the leashes and her restraints. Then she comes around to my side of the bed and climbs in next to me, sitting wariza-style.

"Is Liska already asleep?"

A look at my foxgirl says definitely yes.

"Looks like it."

"Does master want to be quiet so we don't wake her?"

"I don't think she'll wake up," I reply.

Brushing her hair back, Ada seems nervous about something. I give her time to work up the courage for whatever it is she's nervous about and gently rub her thigh with one hand.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

"Did Ada do well tonight?"

"Yes, you did very well."

"Because Ada knows about parties and makeup?"

"Mm-hm."

"And because Ada is a good girl?"

"Yes. You're a good girl."

She brushes her hair back again, nervousness intensifying.

"Even though Ada isn't as pretty as Liska?" she asks, brushing the scar across her cheek with her fingertips. Ah. She's still got self-esteem issues. Well, I guess that isn't something you get through overnight, especially when you're in second place in a two girl set. And the bitch did call her 'damaged goods' right to her face earlier.

Pulling her down on top of me and wrapping her in a hug, I kiss her firmly on the lips and tell her, "You're a very pretty girl."

Ada smiles, and shyly asks, "Would master like to make use of Ada?"

I hesitate for a second; I'm not entirely comfortable having sex while staying at somebody else's house. Then again, the guest room I was given has only one bed for me and my two slave girls, one of whom is explicitly a sex slave and the other implicitly so, and the maid who guided me to my room did make a point of stating that I had privacy here. So it's likely expected that I'll have sex with one or both girls while staying the night here.

"Yes, I would," I say, sliding my boxers off. Ada starts to lay down beside me, but I stop her.

"Here, get back on top of me," I tell her. Confused, she lays on top of me again.

"Sit up."

She obeys, straddling me.

"Ok, now raise up so I can put it in you, then sit back down."

It takes a bit, but she gets the idea, wincing slightly as she sinks down onto my dick.

"W-what do I do now?"

"That's up to you," I tell her. "You can go up and down, do whatever."

Ada's nervousness skyrockets now that it's all on her; she was a virgin a week ago, and both girls were just passive participants while I fucked them each time. Now Ada is on the spot.

Tentatively, she raises and lowers herself on my dick, awkwardly at first, then gaining confidence. Placing her hands flat against my stomach for support, she gradually builds up a good rhythm and her expression goes from 'I don't know what I'm doing' to 'hey, this is kinda fun!'

She lifts herself too high and I pop out of her, prompting us both to laugh as we fumble to get our naughty bits back together and resume.

I reach up to fondle her bouncing breasts, and she breathlessly says, "They always talked about sex like it was going to be a chore, but this is... good!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," I tell her honestly. Watching her discover, and like, a new way to have sex is genuinely pretty enjoyable for me.

She tires herself out after a few more minutes though, being already sore and stiff from standing for so long, so I have her pause while we swap to the missionary position. Arms wrapped around one another, I finish us both off by driving into her hard and fast before shooting my load deep inside of her.

Both of us sweaty and panting for breath, I brush aside a strand of hair sticking to her forehead and kiss Ada first on her forehead, then on her lips. She kisses me back, less awkward than before. Attagirl, she's getting better at this.

I pull out and get off of Ada, who is now looking at Liska, who is still deep asleep, and then looking uncomfortable.

"Master? Should I wake Liska so she can clean me?"

"Hmm? No, there's a bathroom over there," I say, pointing. "Just use a towel or something to get anything that drips out and you'll be fine."

"Yes, master."

Taking one of the candles off the nightstand with her, Ada ducks into the bathroom and I can hear peeing, wiping herself off, and flushing before trotting back out.

"Fill the tank," I tell her sternly. She makes an 'oh!' expression, skids to a halt, and ducks back into the bathroom to pump water into the toilet tank. I'm glad the duke has flush toilets too instead of a chamber pot like the inn had. Otherwise it'd get smelly real quick.

Trotting back, Ada places the candle back where she got it and climbs back into bed with me, snuggling up against me. I blow out the candle on that side of the bed and say, "Goodnight, Ada."

"Goodnight, master."

Then I roll over to face the other side of the bed, kiss Liska on the forehead and say, "Goodnight, Liska." My only response is a flick of one ear and what could almost, but not quite, be described as a snore. I blow out the other candle, plunging the room into darkness, and Ada spoons herself up against me, inviting me to put my arms around her. Which I do. The delicate, flowery scent of her perfume fills my nose. The perfume was a good idea; my girls smell girly now.

I wonder how things will go in the morning? The duke wants to discuss making guns, and he wants to bring others in on it. Not surprising, given that this will involve smithing metal, wood carving, chemistry, and more, and will probably need financial backers if the duke doesn't intend to finance the entire venture himself. He could also be trying to line up the first customers. I guess I'll see how things go in the morning.

At least I can be assured that, unlike Giros, the duke won't stab me in the back. At least not until I've given him what he wants.

I'm still sleeping with the Luger under my pillow.

Chapter 22: Ambitious

A man strides confidently into the gladiator arena, gazing at the crowd of spectators. Spreading his arms wide and eliciting thunderous applause, he bellows, "I am Maximus Decimus Meridius! General of the armies of the north, leader of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the emperor, reader of erotic fantasy fiction, chronic masturbator, and lover of foxgirls and their fluffy tails! On this day of Thanksgiving, I ask you: ARE YOU NOT THANKFUL?"

The crowd cheers, and Maximus announces that the gracious Lord OP has graced them with a new chapter for them to read.

---------------

I awake, Ada still asleep in my arms and one of her breasts cupped in my hand, and look around the darkened room, momentarily disoriented by waking up in an unfamiliar place. I sit up and Ada stirs beside me.

"Good morning, Ada," I say, kissing her on the lips.

"Good morning, master."

I nudge her butt with my knee and say, "Why don't you open the drapes and let some light in here?" She slides out of bed to comply, and I roll over to face Liska.

"Good morning, Liska," I say, kissing her on the cheek since she's laying flat on the bed. She bats her ears several times and opens her eyes. Awake, but at what cost?

"Nnng, g'morning masser..."

My little foxgirl curls up in a ball and moans as sunlight is allowed into the room through the window.

"Headache?"

She nods miserably. Seems she has a slight hangover.

"Ada, could you get Liska some water?"

Ada hesitates for a moment, then says, "I can't, but we can ring the bell and have one of the duke's servants bring us some."

"Where's the bell?" I ask, looking around. Ada pads over in her bare feet and tugs a velvet rope hanging from the ceiling next to one of the bed's banisters. Oh hey, it's a canopy bed. I hadn't really noticed last night. There's no canopy or curtains on it though. I guess because it isn't winter yet.

Not even a minute later, there's a quiet knock at the door. Ada unbolts it and opens it, revealing a maid in a red-and-yellow dress and no slave collar. She doesn't seem at all surprised or disturbed by Ada's nudity; then again, why would she be?

The maid asks something quietly and Ada turns to look over her shoulder at me.

"Master? You want a glass of water for Liska. Would you like her to fetch anything else?"

"Make it three glasses of water," I say. One for each of us. "What time will breakfast be?"

Ada turns to the maid, who carefully refrains from looking at me and whispers her answer to Ada. Ah, right. I'm not her owner- or I guess employer, in her case- so I can't give her orders. Or interact with her directly, I suppose.

"Breakfast will be served whenever the duke awakens, master."

"And when will that be?"

The maid has a slightly pained look on her face and whispers her answer to Ada.

"The duke has the habit of sleeping in late the morning after a party. Particularly if he's been up drinking with a couple of his guests before retiring for the evening."

Interesting; the maid didn't say he was up late drinking with his buddies, just that it's a thing. Which means he probably was, but the maid isn't about to tell one of the duke's guests that he's still sleeping it off.

"Probably another hour or two, master. At least."

Great. I'm used to breakfast shortly after waking up. So are the girls, for that matter.

"Could we get something to eat in the meantime? Just as a snack to hold us over until breakfast is served."

The maid and Ada stare at me like they expect something from me.

"Um... how about an apple for each of us?"

The maid nods to Ada, they exchange whispers, and then the maid finally makes eye contact with me long enough to curtsy and be on her way. Ada shuts the door and shoots the bolt home again.

Ada comes around to the far side of the bed again and climbs back in next to me. The mattress, which isn't as thick or stiff as a modern one, shifts under her and the Luger slides out from under the pillow and butts up against her, well, butt. Glancing down, Ada reaches for it, presumably to push it back under the pillow, but I grab her wrist.

"Don't touch that!"

She jerks back slightly, startled, and starts to stammer out an apology.

"It's dangerous. You could hurt yourself or die if you touch it."

She nods, looking frightened.

"It made that loud noise."

"Right. It puts holes in things, like in that breastplate. I don't want it to put a hole in you."

Ada's eyes get big and she pales, clearly imagining a hole going clear through her. Liska leans across me and pulls Ada into a hug.

"Master doesn't want Ada to get hurt. He wants Ada to be safe. Be a good girl and don't touch things."

She nods, still looking at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, master! I-"

"It's ok, you're not in trouble," I reassure her. "You didn't know. I just don't want you to get hurt."

I pat her on the head to show that I'm not upset with her, just as there's another quiet knock at the door. Ada jumps off the bed, a little too enthusiastically, and runs to the door to answer it. I slide the Luger back under the pillows while Liska eyes it uncomfortably.

Ada returns to bed with a silver tray with three glasses of water and three apples on it. Liska chugs her glass all in one go and holds her hand to her forehead with a wince, ears laid back, then slowly lays back down on the bed and shuts her eyes. Other than the black tip of her tail twitching slowly, she almost looks asleep.

Ada, on the other hand, only drinks half her water and then immediately devours one of the apples, placing the core back on the tray. I eat mine more slowly and take a sip of water. It still tastes of alcohol; I guess the well water in town isn't completely safe then. Then again, the water served to us at the inn didn't have alcohol added to it, and Liska and I didn't get this world's equivalent of Montezuma's revenge. Maybe it's just the duke's well? Or maybe they add alcohol to the water just as a matter of course, whereas the innkeeper couldn't necessarily afford it. Whatever the case, I'll be glad to be back to drinking the water at home.

Home. I guess the house in the country really is home now, isn't it? I've lived there only a week or so, but it's apparently where I'm going to stay for the rest of my days. At least until and unless whoever Mephistopheles is decides to give me the option of returning to my world.

"Master?"

"Hm?"

"If it's going to be a while before our host wakes up and breakfast is served... would you like to pass the time by... using Ada?" she asks, somewhat nervously.

Is she nervous because she's asking if I want to have sex and slaves shouldn't be asking their masters for something they want, or for some other reason? She knows me enough by now that she knows I'm ok with her asking for things, but she's been raised her whole life not to impose on her owner with her own wants and desires. But it's probably something else. I just can't think of what it is.

"Sure," I say, sliding off my underwear again. Ada kneels on the bed beside me and asks, "W-would master like to use Ada the way he did last night?"

Ah. She wants to try being on top again. Feeling myself rise to the occasion, I nod my consent and she pulls back the blanket to straddle me. Liska opens her eyes, then sits up to watch curiously as Ada awkwardly positions herself. I help get myself inserted, and then lay back and relax as Ada begins puzzling out the right moves again. Liska scoots over and presses herself against me, watching this new sex position intently; she missed out on it last night, after all.

Having an audience seems to be throwing Ada off her stride, so I gently rub her thighs and murmur encouraging words to her. After a bit, she gains more confidence and is bouncing up and down on my dick more naturally. I wrap one arm around Liska and squeeze her up to me, and my little foxgirl snuggles up to me, tail twitching with interest, watching Ada intently.

Panting with effort, Ada has a big grin on her face, her small breasts bouncing rhythmically. Liska's tail continues to twitch, her ears pricked forward, watching Ada's every move; is she turned on? Or is she trying to learn what Ada's doing so she can it herself? Sometimes, despite her emotive fox parts giving away what she's feeling, Liska can be hard to read.

Eventually, Ada seems to be running out of steam; she's not used to much physical activity, and sex can be exhausting, so it's not unexpected. I pat her on the thigh, and with a little bit of fumbling, we swap places, with her lying on her back and me on top, and I drive myself into my panting sex slave hard and fast until we both come more or less simultaneously. Breathing hard, I pull out and lay beside her, with Liska crawling around on the bed to clean my genitals with her mouth, then moving to do the same for Ada.

"Good girl," I gasp, not specifying which one I'm referring to. Both seem to take the compliment as being directed at her, Liska giving a twitch of her ears and Ada beaming with satisfaction before reaching down to gently pat Liska's head between her legs to show her appreciation. Finished, Liska sits up and quietly announces that she'll fetch a towel so we can wipe off our sweat.

"Well, that's certainly one way to pass the time," I comment to Ada.

"Ada pleased master?"

"You certainly did."

Ada snuggles up against me, pressing her boobs into my side, still grinning happily as Liska returns with the towel.

"I'm glad Ada pleases master. Sex is fun, too!"

"I'm glad you enjoy it," I say honestly, toweling myself off before passing it to Ada. Sliding my underwear back on, I lay back on the bed and Liska climbs in beside me, careful to avoid wrinkling her dress, and once Ada is finished with the towel both girls snuggle up to me. Ah, this is the life! Being the filling in a girl sandwich is fantastic.

Before long, however, there's a gentle tap at the door. Ada flies out of the bed and runs over to the door, while Liska rolls off the mattress and onto her feet. Ada looks to me for permission and I nod as I get out of bed at a more relaxed pace than either girl.

Opening the door reveals the maid again, who whispers to Ada, who then relays the message that the duke is awake and breakfast will be served soon.

I finish dressing while the girls fuss with their hair and Liska's tail, running a brush through everything, then smoothing out Liska's dress and stockings, and Ada retrieving the cosmetics from Liska's purse. There's a series of high-pitched complaints and recriminations as the girls scrub their faces, then Ada applies fresh makeup to both of them, but it doesn't escalate into an argument and I don't bother intervening. The long and short of it are that Liska ruined her makeup by sleeping in it, it's not Liska's fault that she basically passed out drunk, Ada ruined her makeup by having sex with me twice and then sleeping in it instead of removing it before bed like she was supposed to, and so forth. Neither of them get nasty about it, just typical girls sniping at each other, and in the end neither of them is actually trying to argue with the other, simply complaining. Hair and makeup done, tail brushed and deemed sufficiently floofy, the girls present themselves for my approval, which I give.

Then they descend upon me, Ada declaring my hair to be a mess and attacking it with the brush while Liska grits her teeth and attempts to make my clothing appear less rumpled. Both girls stand back after a minute and declare my appearance to be acceptable, though with mild reservations they don't seem able to do anything about. Ada turns and folds her arms behind her back for me to bind, then both girls stand at attention, chins raised, while I snap on their leashes. Then Liska frowns, ears cocked to one side, and she glances sidelong at Ada.

"It's the morning after a party. Am I still supposed to sample everything master eats at breakfast?"

Ada, already in serious business mode with her thousand yard stare and expressionless face in place, shakes her head slightly.

"No, this is entirely informal. You won't be expected to serve master, just stand next to me and look pretty."

Liska bats her ears in acknowledgement, then retrieves her cloth restraints from her purse and presents them to me. I take them, wait for her to turn her back to me, then restrain her arms. Properly bound and leashed, both girls look prim and proper, or as prim and proper as the duo can when one is in a dress and the other is stark naked, and they stand at attention by the door, ready to go.

It isn't long before there's another tap on the door. Grasping both girls' leashes, I open the door to meet the maid, who quietly mumbles for me to follow her.

The hall is brightly lit through strategically placed windows and skylights, no artificial lighting necessary at this time of day, and I admire the look of it as I lead the girls on their leashes, following the maid down the hall and the ridiculously wide staircase down to the ground floor and the dining room.

The maid pulls a chair out for me, one right next to the duke's spot, and I seat myself, hooking both girls' leashes onto the chair. Liska leans in to whisper in my ear that this is a very good sign and that it means the duke thinks highly of me, before standing at attention next to Ada and practicing her best vacant stare at nothing. They're both 'part of the furniture' now, I suppose.

The musician, naked catgirl in tow on her leash but his male assistant absent, wanders through the dining hall, greets me and both girls, asks empty air if there are any peaches and then wanders off again when none are forthcoming. Either that man has refined his 'genius ditz' act to an art form, or he's discovered some of the best drugs this time period has to offer.

The maid returns, another guest following, this one unaccompanied by any slaves, and he sits beside me. More maids pass through, escorting a pair of gentlemen to their seats on the opposite side of the table, and finally the duke, dressed in what's probably considered informal clothing that still screams 'I spent the money to look this good', makes his entrance, seating himself. Servants bustle about rapidly, serving hot bacon, eggs, pancakes with butter, a piece of yellow cheese, and a small round loaf of rye bread. I'm honestly kind of surprised that breakfast is a big deal here and at the inn; in medieval Europe, people generally ate only two meals, a large lunch at midday and a large dinner in the evening. Eating too early in the morning was seen as gluttonous and frowned upon; commoners only ate breakfast if they were children, elderly, or sick and were considered too weak to wait until midday to eat, or if they were poor laborers who needed an early meal to provide the energy to work hard all day long. The nobility might eat breakfast as a luxury, but most refrained unless they were traveling. Then again, if this world is supposed to be similar to my world as it was around the time of the Thirty Years War, that was the time period when breakfast became more common. And being as the duke is definitely nobility, an the inn is located in the upscale part of the city, perhaps breakfast is normal here, but still eschewed by most commoners. I've definitely led a privilged existence since my arrival in this world, so I'm probably not getting a clear picture of how the majority of people here live.

The shabbily musician makes an appearance again, seating himself at the far end of the table from the duke and reacting with apparent delight at being served a plate of sliced peaches and a bowl of cream and nothing else. His nude catgirl, staring off into space behind him, is the only guest's slave present besides mine. I'm pretty sure at least two, possibly all three, of the other men at the table brough slaves with them last night; maybe I wasn't supposed to bring the girls to breakfast with me? Ah, who cares; I'm the funny foreigner who doesn't understand the rules, I can get away with it. Maybe.

"Good morning, gentlemen! I realize it's crass to discuss business over a meal, but I really think this is something we should get into as soon as possible," the duke says, grinning as he sticks a piece of sausage into his mouth. "For those unfamiliar, let me introduce everyone. This is Baron Eness, who can help provide financial backing for this little venture, this is Rosco Mierlosse, who operates the largest smithing operation in the principality, this is Lord Bliesente, who does business with the alchemist's guild as a supplier, and this is Lord Schulz, a very prestigious foreign gentleman who has a very exciting proposal for us."

"Yes," says the bewhiskered man introduced as Mierlosse, "The duke made a great deal of noise about your wonder weapon last night after everyone else had retired for the evening."

"I still say it isn't much," the baron commented dryly. "I have a dozen of those breastplates decorating my mansion as well, and they're all made of mild steel. Any crossbow could penetrate one of those."

"How small a crossbow?" the duke asks archly. "One as small as this? Show them the- the 'fire arm', Lord Schulz."

I carefully retrieve the Luger from its holster, doublecheck the safety, and lay it on the table. All three men eye it with interest as the musician at the far end of the table feeds peach slices to his catgirl, who is now perched on his knee, apparently oblivious to our conversation. I have a sneaking suspicion his behavior is mostly an act and he's paying far more attention to us than he appears, but nobody else seems to be paying him any mind.

"That small? Why no crossbow that small could punch through a buff jerkin, much less a breastplate, no matter how mild the steel is!"

"Where are the cross arms and string?"

"I told you," the duke replies impatiently. "It isn't a bow of any sort, it's a 'fire arm'! It uses fire and chemicals to proper a projectile. As you said, you cannot make a crossbow that small that would be of any consequence as a weapon, but with a 'fire arm', you can. And Lord Schulz here knows how to make them!"

Everyone is looking at me intently and I decide I need to reign in their expectations before they start having unrealistic ideas of what I can deliver.

"This particularly firearm is too complex for me to duplicate, but I can tell you how to make a simpler, cruder version. Building a firearm is more complicated than making a bow of any sort; it will be expensive, difficult, and there will be a necessary amount of trial and error. It's very important that the metallurgy be just right and the smith pays very close attention to the quality of construction. Otherwise it could blow up in your face when you try to shoot it."

"Blow up?" asks the baron.

"Explode. A giant fireball, right in your face, with pieces of metal and wood flying everywhere. It would destroy the weapon and could definitely injure or even kill the user if he were unlucky. It's probably going to take several attempts before the blacksmith gets it right and we make a gun that works properly.

"Gun?"

"An informal term for a firearm," I explain. "According to legend, one of the first princes in my homeland to order a firearm made for him named his Lady Gonnhilda, after his mother, because 'both have a loud voice and speak with authority.'" This prompted a chuckle from the men around the table. "After he demonstrated its use, all the other nobles wanted a 'gonn' of their own and the term stuck."

"I see," says Mierlosse. "So it's important to have quality steel in making a gun. But what else? You say it involves fire?"

"Yes; it uses a lead ball for the projectile, and a powder for the propellant." I ignore the quizzical looks at the unfamiliar word and continue. "When you pull the trigger, a spring-loaded hammer strikes a piece of flint against a steel plate called the frizzen, striking a spark. The spark goes into a small pan containing the powder, which burns rapidly and spreads fire to a larger amount of powder inside the barrel of the firearm. This powder burns or explodes, propelling the bullet down the barrel at high speed, resulting in a weapon more powerful and longer ranged than any crossbow or longbow."

"And a good deal louder," the duke comments dryly.

"What sort of powder are we talking about here?" asks Bliesente, the alchemist guild's supplier.

I pause for a moment, considering; the secret of gunpowder is quite possibly the most powerful thing in the world at this moment, akin to the 20th century's Manhattan Project. If one side has guns and the other doesn't, it would have just as powerful an impact on conflict. I glance around the room conspiratorially, maybe a bit too theatrically, but doing my best to drive home how important it is to keep this information a secret.

"Charcoal, sulfur, and salt peter."

"Really? That's it?"

I nod. "In the right proportions, it can make the powder that makes guns work. Make enough of it and you can knock down castles."

The other three men don't seem impressed by my claim, but the duke is definitely onboard. Then again, he's seen the effect of a gun being fired twice; none of the others have.

"I'm telling you, gentlemen, this could be the biggest thing in a century! We could be standing on the cusp of a revolution in warfare! Any man who can equip an army with firearms is sure to be invincible on the battlefield!"

Still seeming skeptical, the others continue to ask for details and I'm eventually obliged to sketch out the design for a flintlock musket, using paper and a charcoal pencil the duke eagerly provides, and explaining its construction, operation, and capabilities as best as I can. I also make mention of the fact that gunpowder can be used to make bombs, which can be devastating against groups of men or against fortifications. I still haven't told them the right proportions for making gunpowder; anyone who knows the ingredients could eventually figure it out, but they'll initially meet with failure. After a great deal more arguing back and forth about how revolutionary the gun would really be, how expensive it would be to build, and more, the duke and I finally won them all over. The duke and baron would split the financial costs, the owner of the biggest smithing operation would have his best blacksmiths work on its construction, and the lord supplying materials to the alchemists' guild would supply me with the ingredients I need to make gunpowder, in the requested quantities. They all seem to think it worthwhile to at least create a couple of prototypes or proof of concept firearms, to see if it's worth going all in on building guns in quantity. Our business concluded, breakfast is wrapped up with idle smalltalk and the duke's other guests go their separate ways. The duke shakes my hand, thanking me for my time and telling me once again of his enthusiasm for this project, and informs me that my man, presumably meaning Mushuk, is waiting for me outside with my cart to take me home.

Stepping outside, girls in tow on their leashes, I walk down to the street where Mushuk is indeed waiting with the cart, and climb in. Liska sits on the seat between me and Mushuk, while Ada settles herself in the back, and the old catman snaps the reins and sets the horse in motion.

Leaning against me and flicking her tail across her lap, Liska comments, "That is sure to be a very profitable business arrangement for master; between this and the fire lighters... master is a very ambitious man indeed." My little foxgirl twitches her tail with satisfaction as she rubs her cheek against my shoulder, then sits up and pays attention to the road, saying something to Mushuk in his language, which he acknowledges with a grunt.

Ambitious?

Liska seems to have a view of me that's larger than life. Her romantic idea that I'm the second son of some prince or king who struck out to make his own fortune is harmless enough, but apparently my business dealings are feeding into that idea and giving her an impression of me that's... not entirely realistic.

Ambitious? I'm... not ambitious. I was entirely content to just cruise through life, living off my aluminum coins and a handful of 'inventions', enjoying my foxgirl, but circumstances and Liska pushed me to go further. And before that... I was single, living in a one bedroom apartment, working my ass off to barely stay ahead of the bills, going nowhere in life, and hating it. That was the entire reason I posted on Hiraeth and fantasized about living in other worlds: I was miserable and hated my existence.

Maybe I'm the problem? Maybe the problem is that I had no ambition, no drive, to really improve myself and my life? But if the problem is a lack of ambition, then... what sort of goal should I drive for? What do I want in life, besides being comfortably wealthy, lazing around the house, and fucking my little foxgirl's brains out on a regular basis?

What do I want in life? Where do I go from here?

Dammit. Leave it to Liska to give me an existential crisis. She's been the best thing to ever happen to me, but that isn't to say she isn't forcing me out of my comfort zone. But maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm miserable because I'm too comfortable just being lazy and unambitious. But if that's the case... what the hell do I want out of life?

Fuming, I tune out of the rest of the ride home and ponder my future and personal shortcomings.

Chapter 23: Worthy

Well, it's officially NOT the heat death of the universe, because the new chapter is finally here. And it's only five months late!

It's not a long one, but finishing the last bit of it was a pain in the ass with everything going on. Hope you like it.

--------------

The cart pulls up to the house uneventfully; Momma Cat emerges from the kitchen door and yowls something as I held Ada out of the wagon, Liska having hopped down with no difficulties.

"Macska says there's food available if we want it."

"That's fine," I say, still in a bit of a funk. "Once Mushuk has the cart and horse taken care of, they're both free to do whatever until lunch."

Liska relays the message and Macska bows slightly to acknowledge my order, or lack thereof, while her husband drives the cart over to the barn to begin unhitching the horse. Leading the girls into the house, I shut the door behind me, then pause.

What do I want in life?

I was perfectly content with just Liska, back when it was just her and I at the inn.

I want Liska.

Both girls raise their chins so I can unclip their leashes and hang them by the door, then turn their backs for me. I remove Ada's restraints and toss them on the kitchen table, then reach over and lock the door. I don't want Momma Cat walking in and interrupting anything. Or just hearing the noise.

Liska looks at me curiously, black tailtip twitching, but doesn't say anything about my not removing her restraints as she and Ada step out of their shoes and Ada neatly sets them by the door. I pat both girls on the rear and say, "Upstairs," and they trot to obey.

Entering the bedroom, Ada asks, "Master? Should I remove my stockings?"

"Sure," I say absentmindedly. She walks over to the wardrobe and begins fidgeting with the buttons on her garter belt awkwardly, still not used to how clothing works. I sit on the edge of the bed and pat my lap, and Liska perches herself there, tail wagging slightly. Her head is already tilted to give me the optimal angle for ear scritches by the time my hand reaches up for her.

There's a good foxgirl. There's a pretty foxgirl.

I reach up with my other hand to grab her narrow chin and turn her head toward me, then bend over to kiss her on the lips. She smiles and waggles her ears, then leans into the ear scratching again. My other hand reaches down to scratch the base of her tail, and my pretty vixen shifts her rear in my lap to grant better access.

Who's a good foxy foxy fox?

"Whose Liska are you?" I whisper into her ear.

"I'm yours," she replies huskily, tail lashing now that she realizes this is leading to sex. I slide her off my lap and begin removing my clothes, and Ada, fully naked now that she's gotten her stockings and garterbelt off, rushes over to help pull my boots off and stow them in their usual place.

Nude and fully erect, I climb back onto the bed and Liska scoots back to rest her head on the pillow, drawing her knees up on either side of her chest to grant me access; except for her shoes and lack of underwear, she's still fully clothed and has her arms bound behind her back.

I lift up her skirt to expose her smooth, pale slit and position myself over her; her orange tail is pointed straight down toward the foot of the bed, but I'm not concerned about getting it messy. Cleaning my foxgirl after sex is Ada's job now. And vice-versa.

Liska mewls with pleasure as I penetrate her, tilting her head back and swiveling her ears to the side. Ada spoons up beside us, looking at Liska curiously and asks, "Does having sex with clothes on feel different?" Liska just rolls her eyes and then buries her face in my shoulder as I pick up the pace.

After a few minutes of watching Liska pant happily as I drive myself into her, Ada sits up and disappears from view. I pay her no mind, focused on the sheer pleasure of indulging myself in Liska. Then Liska spasms beneath me and makes a choked snorting sound before returning to her previous panting.

Then she does it again. On the third time, she starts flailing her legs, bouncing her tiny heels off my back while giggling and moaning out, "stooooooop!"

"What's going on?" I ask.

"She's tickling my feet!"

I look over my shoulder to see a grinning Ada going in for a fourth time and tell her, "Knock it off." Ada, looking disappointed, sits back on the bed, hands folded in her lap so her obedience is visibly obvious.

That distraction dealt with, Liska settles back into the routine and we continue. Oh man, Liska is just so perfect. I want her- no, NEED her, so much...

Before long, we both climax more or less simultaneously and, once I catch my breath, I get off of my adorable little foxgirl and Ada tends to the both of us. I kiss Liska on her sweaty forehead and squeeze her in a hug for a moment, then casually turn to Ada and say, "Ok, now you can tickle her."

"Noooooo!" Liska squeals, thrashing about and cackling as Ada dives in with a grin. Liska, arms restrained behind her back, still doesn't make it easy for Ada to catch her, and the two race around the bed, Ada in hot pursuit. It's honestly hilarious to watch.

I reach out and snag Liska, who wasn't expecting third-party interference, and shout, "Get her!" Ada, not needing encouragement, goes for the kill, tickling Liska anywhere she can reach while my pretty vixen thrashes in my grip and laughs uncontrollably. After a minute or so, I relent and tell Ada that that's enough, and Liska sags in my arms in relief, panting with a grin on her face. Sitting her up, I remove her restraints and toss them aside, then flop back on the bed, both my girls snuggling up to me on either side as I stare up at the ceiling.

Liska's words continue to haunt me. 'Master is very ambitious'. I'm really not though. What do I want in life? At home, I wanted enough money to have nice things and be comfortable; really, I just didn't want to deal with the daily drudgery of work and interacting with people I couldn't stand. I wanted an escape. That's why I was on Hiraeth. That's why I liked video games, and books, and anime. To escape. But I wasn't going anywhere, I wasn't doing anything with my life. I was trapped in the wage slave existence forever, because I wasn't actually doing anything that would help me escape it for real.

And here? I don't even really want to go back to my old life. I miss my family; to be honest, I've been avoiding thinking about them as much as possible, because I know if I do I'll have another freakout like I did at the inn that first day. I'll never see my parents, my grandmother, my nephew, or my dumbass sister ever again. I can't think about that, or else I'll tip over the precipice. I miss the conveniences of home. Central heating and air conditioning, the internet, hot food and cold drinks whenever I wanted, instant communication... but beyond that, I don't really miss the old world or my old life. I pretty much accepted that I was never going back on day one. How could I? I don't even know how I got here in the first place. One minute I'm clicking through what I think is a browser game, then I play along when it tells me I'll be transported to another world for real, and then suddenly I'm here. And some magical bullshit makes me mutually understandable to people who speak a different language. Whether it's magic or advanced technology, the functional difference between the two being moot, it makes no difference: I don't know how it works and I don't have any way of using it myself, so until and unless the person responsible for trapping me here makes an appearance, I've got no choice but to accept that I'm here forever.

So what do I want here? I pretty much got exactly what I wanted out of life: I'm comfortably wealthy, I don't have to work or do household chores, and I've got two pretty girls, including a foxgirl so cute she takes my breath away just looking at her. It's exactly what I wanted in my old life: to be comfortable and to not have to do anything.

And... there's something wrong with that. Without urging from Liska or a need to fit in with the new society I find myself stuck in, I'd have been perfectly content to live somewhere with Liska and die of old age, living off the money from selling my aluminum coins. Having done exactly nothing.

I would have been content with that, but would I really have been happy? I still would have been a total nobody, just one who lucked out into being a winner.

Really, it all comes down to Liska. If not for her pleased comment about how ambitious I am, none of this would have occurred to me. And I wouldn't want to be anything more than I am, except to live up to Liska's expectations. I don't want to disappoint Liska or have her think less of me.

I forget who said it, and I'm not quoting them exactly, because I don't have internet access anymore and can't look it up, but someone once said that the level of civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue and character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, and honor, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. Basically, the higher a woman's standards, the higher a man must climb to reach them. Which is probably why modern 21st century society is falling apart; feminism destroyed everything that made women desirable to men, reduced them solely to sex objects (oh, the irony!) because they were good for nothing else, and destroyed the institution of marriage and the nuclear family. Birth control and tens of millions of abortions have reduced the birth rate to almost nothing, easy no-fault divorce has resulted in half of marriages ending, and the dating scene is horrific because women have all convinced themselves they're only worthy of 10/10 chads and thus have rejected 80% of all men in existence without ever giving them a chance. If the only woman a man can get is an overweight, tattooed slut with a higher bodycount than Snake Plisken and six digit student loan debt for her useless degree in social justice, and marriage has a 50/50 chance of ending with him losing his house, his car, his income, his children, and everything he spent his whole life working for, why would he bother? Women and society don't want the overwhelming majority of young men anymore, and there's nothing in it for them, so they check out of life and spend all their time playing video games or being bitter on the internet. I banged a few chicks in college, but I never had any interest in them beyond that because none of them was really worthy of my devotion or emotional investment.

On the other side of the coin, the bare handful of girls I did have an interest in beyond briefly dating and having one night stands, never had any interest in me. And now that I think about it... maybe it's because I wasn't worth being interested in either. Maybe the problem isn't solely that women aren't worth it for men, but men who've checked out like I did aren't worth it for the minority of worthwhile women either. They could sense I had no drive, no ambition, beyond a comfortable, easy life, and that wasn't good enough for them.

So it all comes back to the level of women being the level of civilization. When you find a woman worth being with and worth devoting your time, emotions, and effort to, she has to see that you're worth being around too.

Am I worth it?

Liska's convinced herself I'm some tragic second son of a prince who set off to find his fortune on his own rather than inherit it (or not inherit, in this case) without having done anything to earn it except be born into the right family. She's seen my business ventures, with the lighter and the firearms, and believes I have some grand plan for the future, that what I have currently isn't enough for me. She believes I'm a great person, and have greater things in store for me; maybe that's why she seems so devoted to me, beyond the simple obedience of a slave for her master? She thinks I'm worthy of her devotion?

In which case... that's what I have to be. That's what I have to do. I have to live up to Liska's expectations. Behind every great man is a good woman urging him on. Liska, you magnificent little vixen. You've inspired me. I really do have a goal to work towards now.

"Ada," I say casually. "Did you know that payback's a bitch?"

"Huh?"

I grab Ada and hold her tight while shouting, "Get her!" and Liska immediately leaps into action, tickling Ada mercilessly while she squirms and cackles.

I don't know how exactly I'm going to do it, but I'm going to live up to Liska's expectations of me.

I'm going to be as great as she believes me to be.

End of Part One.