The Eighth House 4: The Mark

by Iona Hoyle

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© Copyright 2014 - Iona Hoyle - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; MF+/f; D/s; brothel; naked; slaves; bond; rope; bdsm; whip; tease; torment; group; oral; anal; sex; climax; majick; hist; cons/reluct; XX

(story continues from )

Part 4: The Mark

It took me three days before I tried to simply walk through the door that led up to Lady Amelia’s rooms. Three days during which the only concession to training me came on the first morning, when Lady Amelia asked a dark skinned girl from somewhere in the south of the Hundred Kingdoms to show me how to stand and kneel, present myself and keep my eyes cast down when speaking to others who weren’t slaves. All that, in one strenuous morning, spent sweating naked through position after position until the girl, Nalla, was pleased enough with my progress to reward me with a kiss on the lips and a whispered assurance in my ear.

“Milady’s guests are going to love you, Jana.”

I spent the rest of the next few days being fucked. At least, that’s how it felt. I knew in practice, that I spent time doing other things, eating and resting, cleaning myself or the house under the direction of Lady Amelia’s more senior servants. Yet all of that felt like a mere interlude. Just time between the moments when I would be sent to this room or that to please a stranger, whether another slave, a guard, or one of Lady Amelia’s “guests”. And there were a lot of those.

I quickly learned that most of the business of the house took place through the grand entertaining room at its heart. When I wasn’t being used, I spent time there, waiting for one of the nobles or merchants or wealthy adventurers who visited to spy my naked form and decide that they wanted it.

The one who finally persuaded me to try for the door was a merchant’s son named Darian. He picked me out while I was kneeling with a selection of the others, then took me off to a bedroom to entertain him in every way he wanted. They kept no hourglasses in Lady Amelia’s home, forcing men and women to take their pleasures quickly. They could use us as thoroughly as they liked.

Darian did. He was not cruel about it, but he was young and unconcerned about my pleasure. Although I found it anyway. That was part of the problem. He pulled me down to my knees, and as I took his ready cock into my mouth, I could feel the first stirrings of power from his enjoyment, which fed back into my pleasure, which of course, only meant that I performed better for him.

By the time he thrust into me, I was more than ready for it, yielding my body up to his rapid strokes and coming with such enthusiasm that for a moment I was sure that he wondered if I was faking it for him. Perhaps that was why he rolled me over and pushed his way into the one opening he hadn’t explored so far, or perhaps it was just that he intended to get his money’s worth. Still I moaned under him, spending as he spent, feeling the pleasure lingering as he climbed off me to dress.

“It seems like you were born for this,” he said. He probably meant it as a compliment.

That was the risk here, and I knew it. The risk that with enough time, I would forget that I had ever been anything more than a whore. That the pleasure that built up inside me would become addictive. So addictive that I would never be able to let it go. Lady Amelia hadn’t done anything to help me. Anything to prepare me for this “Eighth House” of hers. She had just abandoned me with vague instructions about getting to see her.

So that was what I resolved to do. As soon as Darian was gone, I stood and stalked from the room. I made my way into the grand hall of Lady Amelia’s house, picking my way past the couches and the cushions, more than one featuring bodies entwined together. A few eyes turned my way as I strode towards the door on the far side. Perhaps they guessed what I had planned. Perhaps they merely saw that something was different.

Or perhaps they knew how the guards who flanked the door would react. There were two of them, both muscled and lean, half undressed in a way that suited the environment around them, but armed with whips and rods. They were mostly a comforting presence, there for the protection of the men and women who served Lady Amelia’s guests with their bodies.

I stopped in front of them, bowing my head as I had been taught. Hoping that it would be as simple as having the confidence to ask. Lady Amelia was in the business of lessons. Was that the lesson here?

“Please, masters, I must speak with Lady Amelia. May I go through?”

“Lady Amelia left very specific instructions for what to do if someone with a slave mark asks to go through to her quarters,” one of the guards said. For a moment, just a moment, I dared to think that I might have guessed right.

Then they took my arms, dragging me backwards.


They ignored me, dragging me to a spot where two pillars stood close together, forcing me to kneel between them. They took lengths of rope, tying my wrists spread wide, leaving me open, exposed.

Then they started to whip me.

The first strokes of the whip made me cry out in surprise, then pain. The guards weren’t hitting me as hard as they could, I had no doubt of that, but they didn’t stop either. They both struck me, timing the blows so that they fell in turn, making me scream, and then beg, and then simply whimper. They whipped me, and while they whipped me, I could feel all the eyes in the room on me. They whipped me until I hung limp and sweating in my bonds, and even in that humiliation…

…even in that, I managed to find pleasure. Or at least, I managed to find power. Energy sparked with every contact of the whip. Every note of pain and humiliation, just the way it came for me with pleasure. And that energy became pleasure for me again, so that my tears were only half in pain when they came. I was so caught up in it that I didn’t even notice Lady Amelia approach.

She touched my face lightly when they stopped, making me look at her.

“Stupid girl, trying to get through with the mark still on you. Why didn’t you take it off?”

“I… I don’t know how, my lady,” I said.

“Of course you do. I showed you. Oh well.” She sounded disappointed as she turned. Had I failed a test? Had I lost my chance to be more than this?

“Please, Lady Amelia. Please show me again.” I begged her with all I had. I let her hear how much I needed it.

She turned back, gesturing to one of the male slaves there. “Perhaps this is a chance to teach you something useful. Very well, I will demonstrate again, but only if you earn it. You need to practise using that pretty mouth for more than whimpering, and so you will. You will suck anyone here who wants it, man or woman, to orgasm. When they are all satisfied, if they are all satisfied, I will show you again. Do you agree?”

I looked up at her, and I knew there was only one thing I could say. “Yes, Lady Amelia.”

I took the male slave’s member into my mouth, feeling him harden as I licked and sucked. I bobbed my head, and he took my head in my hands, controlling the movement. Guiding the movement. I knew then why Lady Amelia had started with one of the slaves. She was teaching me.

All of the first few were slaves. Men I had seen around the mansion, who had me lick them, and suck them, and hold my mouth open while they fucked it. A couple of women then, holding me to them, giving me instructions that sounded like simple domination, but were far more than that.

Not that I was in any position to think by that point. Between the pain, the need, and the growing power flowing through me, I could barely manage to keep my mouth open, my tongue moving. To take cock after cock, to lave cunt after cunt. Somewhere, the slaves gave way to a couple of Lady Amelia’s guests, and the guards, anyone who wanted me, as she said. Men spurted deep into my throat, or pulled out to spend their seed across my face. Women… well, I had as much of their juices on me as the men’s.

Lady Amelia came to me last, as naked as any of her servants, and more beautiful than all of them. She pulled me to her, my arms stretched taut, and I served her as I had served all of those before. No. Better than them, because I knew that all my chances of learning rested on this. And because I could feel her, taking the power in me and running it through me as my tongue played her body.

I felt her pleasure building. Felt it and felt her taking the power that the pleasure gave her. Felt it as she shaped that power, building it the way a musician built a tune, or an expert lover worked her partner towards pleasure. Or the way Lady Amelia worked with knots. Yes, that was it. A shining knot of power in a particular shape. One that sent something like fire burning through my shoulder.

I screamed, and she pulled away, gripping my head, making me look. I saw the blank flesh there, and I had a moment to understand it before she pulled me back to her, shaping another knot of magic from the pleasure I gave her. I had enough time to think about all the power a whole house full of pleasure slaves must give her before that power flashed through me, burning the mark onto my flesh once more.

She touched my cheek again, gently. “And that is how it is done. Do you understand? No? Well, if you need another demonstration, I will find a suitable cost. All you have to do is fail the test again and then beg once your whipping is done. And there will be a whipping. Failure must have a price, pretty girl.”

She left me, but not before she put me into the keeping of two of the other slave women. They helped me to the house’s baths, where they cleaned my body and massaged away some of the worst of the pain. One kissed the base of my spine when she was done in a way that made tingles run up it.

“Welcome to our home, Jana.”


They were all friendlier to me in the days after that. It seemed that it wasn’t until I had shared my body with Lady Amelia’s playthings that they finally thought of me as one of them. Or maybe it was just the shared experience of being down on my knees, whipped as the owned thing I was. Whichever it was, the other slaves there, men and women, talked to me more. They told me small things about which “guests” had which preferences, which ones liked to talk while they fucked and which were the subjects of gossip through the kingdom.

They told me other things. Showed me other things. From one girl, I learned how to tease a man’s balls with my tongue. Another started to show me how to dance. One of the men showed me a trick with a man’s shaft that said a lot about his duties there.

It took me another two whippings to grasp the spark of power within me. I fretted over each the night before, raging at myself, trying through sheer force of will to make something happen. But it didn’t work like that for me. Even when I was with Lady Amelia’s guests, I couldn’t seem to control the power she had shown me as finely as she could. I would lay with my legs spread, feeling the build of power as some wealthy man or some wealthy man’s friend pumped away inside me, feeling it spill over into pleasure, but unable to do anything more with it.

So I had to try the door again. The second time, I did it half believing that it might not be the same. That Lady Amelia might take some pity on me. The first bite of the whip into my back dispelled thoughts of that. This time, she didn’t have them use my mouth, but made me beg them to let me please them with my hands, a cock in either one, my fingers sliding over and into the women. Lady Amelia took me last, as before, but this time, her fingers slid into me as mine moved in her.

That time, I caught the feel of how she shaped power into threads to use in her knots. I practised every time a man or woman was with me, taking their pleasure and shaping it. I left it a month before I tried to do any more than that, wanting to be certain that I could mould them as I needed. It was only when I realised that I could not move those threads in my mind that I knew I had to take my next whipping.

That one was harder, as though Lady Amelia was growing impatient. Certainly, her lesson didn’t require patience from her guests, because she gave me to men and women two or three or more at a time, so that I had to find ways to concentrate on pleasing them all. On giving myself to them all, using my hands, my mouth, my cunt, my anus, my breasts. Anything I could. Lady Amelia joined the last group of them, straddling my mouth while two men fucked me simultaneously.

It was worth it, for the sense I got of how she shaped her spells. Of the spells themselves, which felt like old friends on that third casting. Even so, it took me more than a day of recovery before I was ready to try what she had shown.

It seemed fitting that I managed it with one of the slave girls, not one of the nobles who came to use us. Lady Amelia was generous about that, allowing us to use one another as we wished, so long as we were willing. The girl, Marian, was more than willing. From the moment my mouth met hers, she was eager, hungry for me. Our hands explored one another, hers cupping the fullness of my breasts, mine moving to press her tight against me. When her finger slid inside me, I gasped, mirroring the movement, pushing her against the nearest wall and kneeling before her to give her pleasure.

I licked at her, then sucked hard, my fingers moving along with my mouth, as hers twined in my hair. Her leg draped over my shoulder, holding me in place, and I didn’t mind. I wanted her to enjoy this. I wanted her. But I also wanted the feel of the power building up inside me as she built towards orgasm.

Power that I could shape now. I twisted it and bent it, tying knots of power in the same ways Lady Amelia had. I felt the moment when it all connected, and it was the same moment that Marian came above me, her body shuddering as she clutched me to her. As I rose up to kiss her, I glanced across to my shoulder. It was bare.

“I’ve done it,” I whispered to her. “I’ve done it.”

“Done what? Pleased me?” she kissed me. “You certainly did. Your turn.”

A part of me wanted to push her back. To run over to that guarded door and demand entrance. More of me decided that it could wait. Especially after Marian’s tongue found me for the first time.

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