Eternal Slave Ch. 15 - Spa Visit
We hadn't even had time to get our oars out. It was almost as if they wanted to get rid of us.
I was in a foul mood, and this didn't help.
First of all, this boat was even smaller than the one the wicked witch Sprite had use to bring me to the city of Lamplight. It wobbled even though we were only three people and had a lot of luggage stuffed into the bottom. There was no way of sitting that felt comfortable.
In addition, the itch in my cock had grown worse over the last four days since we had been set free, and now it was burned like the kind of serious infection that means you have to go to see the doctor and blush a lot. Not only that, but it had become constantly hard despite not even being close to horny, not even once. I had no doctor in this crazy fantasy world I had been dumped in. The only one who could help me was Pixie, and she couldn't help me. Not matter how much I blushed.
Hopefully, it'll pass, she said. Yeah, right, I said. Thanks for nothing, I said. Well, I didn't say it, but I thought it.
It wasn't the sweet and innocent nerdy Pixie I was annoyed at, though, it was the tall and imperious and ladylike Amber. From the minute we had let her out of the prison cabin she'd been kept in, she'd marched around like a hostage empress, antagonizing everyone she met. You don't call ten men that you used to keep in unwilling bondage 'slaves' if you're trying to be friendly to them. Or get them to feed you. Or not to kill you.
In addition she didn't appreciate what I was doing for her. Even the fact that I had to argue with the big man who'd made himself Captain of the vessel not to have her thrown over the side and into the sea instead of lowered down with Pixie and me didn't seem to mollify her.
Right now, she was causing problems again. There were a number of tasks that had to be taken care of on the journey towards land. One was that of rowing the boat, which I took upon myself. I still didn't understand why you had to face away from the shore when you sat at the oars, but I managed not to drop any of them this time. I guess I was becoming a pro.
The other was to empty the boat of water. The waves weren't too big, but they were constantly coming in from the wrong angle, and most of them retaliated to being hit by a big boat by sending a gallon or two of salt water in our faces each time. There were two buckets that could be used for bailing and so save our bags from being soaked, but only one was used. By Pixie. The small and slender and weak one.
"Help Pixie," I said as I watched Amber sit as queen-like as she was able at the back of the boat, her chin lifted, her eyes refusing to look at anything.
"I'm a Lady. I do not do this kind of labor," she said without looking my way.
"Yes, you are," I said. "Get to it."
"I've been locked in a stinking cell for four days, and now my prison guard tells me to act as a common scullery maid? Absolutely not!"
Pixie didn't look at any of us, desperate not to cause any trouble. I could see how she was only able to lift buckets that were a third full of water. I could also see that she didn't complain, but worked as hard as she could.
It might be that I had been spoiling for a fight and that this was the excuse I needed. However it might be, I grabbed it with both hands. Pulled in one oar. Pulled in the other. Made a very determined, if not elegant, beeline for Amber across the unsteady vessel.
She even refused to look at me, her red dress flapping in the wind. Had I been in a better mood, I would have given up and kissed her hand instead, telling her I would do it myself when I took time off from giving her a foot massage.
"This is your one chance!" I shook a finger at her, shouting so suddenly that Pixie dropped her bucket. "Either you help Pixie, or I throw you overboard and drag you in to town by a rope. Got that? Do you get it? Huh? Huh?" I wasn't used to giving orders, so I might have overdone it.
"It seems," Amber said and lifted her chin even further up, "that I am still a prisoner."
"Whatever fucking way gets you to bail this fucking boat!" I said. By the Lady, but that itch in my cock was unbearable.
"I will endure," she said, "with pride and grace."
When she did deign to move, it not with the zeal and enthusiasm I had had wished. She spent a lot of time finding a way to sit so that her dress wouldn't get crumpled, then held the second bucket like it was a rabbit that had been run over by a car, and began bailing.
As I sat down by the oars again, I noticed that after a few, sulking, demonstratively slow buckets, she sped up. The bilge water, it seemed, had somehow become personally offensive to her. Her scoops were almost twice the size of Pixie's, and she did not seem to tire easily. You could say a lot of things about Amber, but weak and girly she wasn't.
Neither was I, or so I liked to believe, and that was a good thing. It was a long way yet to Rosebud. In fact, I had to force myself only to turn around every twenty strokes to look towards land, or I would catch a whiplash from constant frustration at our slow progress.
All the islands I had seen so far in this world had been dominated by mountains, the houses and cities only serving as decoration on the landscape. This island, or at least this part of the massive half-continent of Fairyland, was as flat as a pancake hammered by a mallet, the steam-rolled. There were some trees that popped up here and there, and lots and lots of squawking sea birds and river birds and delta birds and shore birds and other birds, as well as the sails of fishing boats, but the only feature of note was the city.
At first it had just seemed like a faint haze shaped like a dome on the flat horizon, but as I kept rowing, different features started to appear. There were towers there, there were tall trees, there was a few, small hill, and there was a river. Even closer, and I could see that the city was built on several large islands right smack in the middle of a goodly sized delta, bound together by delicate wooden bridges. The towers were made of wood, too, tall and slender and covered with flowery vines. To our left, on a round island, stood a tall lighthouse shaped like a rose about to open, and I was unsure if it was a real plant or something built by mortals.
The only thing that was truly alien to an earthling was the hill in the center of the city, and that was because it was no hill. It was a bush. An enormous rose bush, rising three hundred feet above the city which clustered around it, an impenetrable wilderness of branches and leaves. And flowers. By the Lady, but those flowers were huge. Those flowers were taller than a man. Their color was a mix between violet and pink, a shade that would look classy and seductive on a woman's lipstick or her nails. It was a beautiful plant, but it was also looming and domineering compared to the slender, delicate towers next to it, filling me with the kind of awe that the tall lighthouse didn't. It was clear who was the boss in this relationship.
As we got closer, I got even more apprehensive. There came a scent from the city. A flowery scent, a scent that seemed to promise to make all your dark and secret desires come true. A scent that suggested that every sort of pleasure could be found in dimly lit chambers in deep basements, hidden away somewhere in the city. A scent that cajoled, teased, intrigued. And threatened.
***
To be honest, I wasn't really sure what I was doing here. Yes, the Lady Desire had wanted me to go here. Yes, she'd said something about the Eternal Lord having followers here and that I was supposed to fight them. And no, an alien from a strange world had no chance of accomplishing anything on his own here. That's why I was glad to have the two women with me, yet I wasn't too sure what they were doing here either, or whether I could trust them.
Amber was here because she thought she and me were going to build a temple to the Eternal Lord in this city, a notion which it would be very, very hard to sort out for her. And when I did, who knew how she would react?
Pixie was a big harder to figure out. She had absolutely not reason to go to Rosebud, but when I had asked her where she was headed, she'd said she might as well hang around to, as she put it, do some field studies. Of what, I had asked, but then she'd become evasive and talked about the cult of the Eternal Lord and magic in general. In particular the discussion did not turn to what she'd once said, while in heat, of wanting to learn how to control a gift slave like you control a machine.
***
"It's beautiful!" Pixie said, taking a short break from her bailing. "I've read about Rosebud, but I didn't know it was really like this. Wow! And it smells so good. So fresh and nice."
"I too know a little about this place. I've always wanted to go to Rosebud," Amber said. "Yet that's not where I was sent. There are others at work here."
"Others?" I said.
She didn't answer, just ran her fingers through her hair. Almost as if to distract me.
"Others?" I repeated, feeling my anger grow with the intensity of the itch and the way my tunic rubbed against my ever rigid cock with each stroke of the oar.
She didn't reply, and I managed to calm myself down. I was not going to threaten to drag her after the boat for not answering me. I might have chosen the role of grumpy cop, but not of the bad one.
***
A few minutes later I had a chance to play grumpy a little more, as well as irritated and difficult. The docks at Rosebud were made up of several long, wooden piers sticking out into the sea some small distance up the river, but before you reach the city proper. They looked overgrown and weighed down by all the vines and flowers, but close up we could see that they were sturdy and well maintained.
This maintenance apparently came at a price. Which was collected by a guy slouching down the pier in the most boring gray clothes I had ever seen. And with the most arrogant attitude I had ever encountered. Well, perhaps it was just my itch, and the constant presence of the perfume of the city that did it, but I started arguing with him as soon as the 'good mornings' were exchanged.
After a few minutes, Pixie pulled me off to one side and explained to me that I shouldn't be arguing with the man about mooring fees.
Why not, I said. We're not going to carry the damn boat around, are we?
Pixie then, calmly and with great care, explained to me that this world was in some ways very much like the one I'd left behind. You needed money for things like, say, a room, a meal, and a pair of underpants that were gentler on a man's sore dickhead. So, we should sell him the boat.
I asked the man what he wanted for the boat, and he told me that a thousand petals would do it. I had no idea what a petal was, apart from what a petal normally tends to be, but since I was in the mood that I was, I told him no. By this point he was sick and tired of me, and didn't bother to try haggling.
Pixie told me to try the next pier, and so I rowed us over there, telling the guy we left what a fool he was.
He, on his part, had told the guy on the next pier what a fool I was, and this guy offered us nine hundred petals. Apparently the guys in charge of the piers had a sort of cartel going on, at least they all dressed in the same dull, gray clothes. As we moved from one pier to the next, the price kept dropping. Pixie urged me to take the offer each time, but I went on and on, just for the heck of it. Amber rolled her eyes and decided I was useless, but didn't speak. Too bad, since I was waiting for an opportunity to yell at her.
In the end we got seven hundred and fifty petals for the boat, and I gave it a farewell kick before I climbed out of it. The guy in charge of the last pier before the city began, gave me the money, a collection of pink, sea-shell-shaped coins of different denominations, to me. Which was probably a not good idea, since I felt angry enough to toss them back in his face.
As we walked up the pier, carrying our bags on my shoulder, I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. What was this horrible itch? I had to get rid of it, or I would start yelling at Pixie, too. And I did not want to do that.
Suddenly I remembered what the Lady Desire had told me when she took Pixie's place in Amber's cabin. About how I was to pay homage to her every day. To kneel on the floor while a woman gave her thanks for my gift. And a kiss, too, right? If not, the Lady Desire had said, I would endure a world of pain.
Then I remembered what Amber had done to both the idol of the Eternal Lord and his reflection. She'd been kneeling tenderly before them both and...
Oh, fuck! I had to convince one of the women to kiss my cock!
Pixie was out of the question. Right out. She had made it very clear that she would not bow to any kind of sexual pressure. Besides, I liked her too much. I was not going to blow whatever trust she had in me by making stupid requests like this.
Amber? Oh, yes. Sure. Ask the loony, evil noblewoman that you're currently bickering with to debase herself in front of you while she gives thanks to a Goddess who's the immortal enemy of the God she's devoted to. Bite my cock off, that she might do. Kiss it? No way.
What, then? Should I try to meet some local woman and impress her with my awkwardness and irritability? I would have to act charming and suave while feeling like an alcoholic mid-delirium. What about prostitutes? They got to have prostitutes in this city, right? And I wasn't asking for anything disgusting, was I? It would be the easiest session ever. "What, sir? You don't want to come all over my belly while you wank off and weep at the same time, telling me the sad story of how your wife doesn't want you anymore?" Except, of course, one didn't do such things as visit prostitutes. Why not? Fuck, fuck, fuck!
As we reached the city streets, I began to look around me. At the women, mostly. Almost exclusively, to be honest. Not with lust, for once. There was not even a touch of sexual desire in me. No, I was in some confused state where I was hoping that a random woman would try to catch my eye and wink and not be put off by my scowl and... As I say, it was a very confused state.
So confused, in fact, that I hardly noticed the strange mix of people in this city. About nineteen out of twenty people that we saw were wearing the same kind of drab, dull clothes the men down at the piers had been sporting. The women were as gray as the men and wore their hair short with no makeup. They all had the air of busy working bees, hurrying along and going about their business, looking grumpy, looking so boring they almost didn't exist.
That made it so much more easy to see the remaining five percent. They wore the finest, most beautiful clothes you can imagine. Strong colors. Some wore elaborate costumes, some were showing off as much skin as possible. Women's hair were set up in fancy dos or hung free down to their swaying butts. Men were groomed and wore neatly trimmed beards. All, without exception, were beautiful. It might be just like watching the promenades of Cannes during the film festival, or the lobby during the intermission of La Bohème at the Milan Opera House. That is, except for one thing. There was the hint, ever present, of sexuality.
It was the cut of their clothes, in the swing of the women's hips and the men's strides. It was in their greetings and their hugs, in the way they stood a little to close when chatting, smiling, laughing. They lounged in cafes while the people in gray hurried past in the streets or served them wine and pastries. The women would dangle their legs and touch their hair, the men would be infinitely gallant and make entertaining conversation.
"What kind of shitty society is this?" I growled to Pixie instead of drooling at the women. "The nobles all just waste their time while the commoners do all the work?" I've never been much of a Marxist, but being here I could see where the guy had been coming from. Maybe Mrs Marx had been playing the denial game with him until he lost it?
"What?" she said.
"The nobles!" I said. "See those fools who sit there under that tree with their picnic basket! Who made that basket, you think?"
"Why, the homely," Pixie said.
"The what now?"
"Oh," she said. "You haven't heard about Rosebud, have you?"
"Of course I haven't," I said. "I've a fucking alien from a different fucking world! But I am here now, so I have obviously seen Rosebud. And been there. Doesn't mean I have heard of it, does it?"
"What's wrong, Sam?" she said. "You're so..."
"I'm annoyed," I said and tried to calm down. "It's a long story. Sorry! But, let's talk about it later. It's complicated." And embarrassing. "Well, let me hear about Rosebud, then. Come on, let's stop having so much fun keeping the stranger in the dark."
"You see the huge bush at the city center?" she said.
"They could see that from Lamplight if they tried," I said. "And if they didn't see it, they could smell it."
"Oh, no," Pixie said. "The smell would dissipate at a rate of-"
"Don't!" I said. This was not the time and place for a physics lesson. There were very few times and places for physics lessons.
She blushed.
I had no idea where we were going. The city was built on a series of small islands in the river, kind of like a wooden Venice except for all the lavish gardens everywhere. Amber was following behind us, observing with a keen look.
"Sorry!" she said. "I mean, the rosebush is... Well, magical. The scent... It makes people feel more... Attentive to their bodily... Needs?" she blushed.
"Horny, you mean?" I said.
"Well, yes. So, the people who live here are very good at multiplying themselves," she blushed again. "But then, when you have lived her for too long and the scent has burrowed too deep into your brain, you get kind of frustrated. Just like an addict. That's what all the gray people here are like. They do come together a lot, but there's no joy in it."
I could understand that. Kind like how I was feeling now. Needing a woman, but not in a good way. Perhaps the rosebush was affecting me as well?
"The only way they've found to break this spell is a kind of special tea they brew from the rose petals of the bush. The bush. They called it 'the 'Rose,' they call it 'her,' and they worship it as a Goddess. Anyway, this tea makes them feel joy in their lives again, and that's why you get all these beautiful people. But the Rose resents having her flowers picked, and she demands human sacrifices for every flower taken. Do you see any old people among the beautiful ones?"
I shook my head. They were all young and merry. There was perhaps one guy I had seen who had a touch of gray in his hair, but it was at his temples in that way that make ladies swoon.
"As soon as one of them starts losing their beauty, the tea poisons them, and they die. I've read several versions of what happens, but by the end they are buried below the Rose, their bodies used to make her grow stronger and the scent more potent."
"What a shitty place!" I said. We walked over a narrow bridge with lamps hanging above our heads, just waiting for evening so that they could throw their warm, orange light on the river flowing under it. The homely strode past us like ghosts, while at the top of the bridge two beautiful ones were embracing, their eyes locked together. The man was eager to kiss, the woman playing hard to get.rnr"
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