by Ines Johnson
"She was a pornographic actress," Dain said.
Chanyn's eyes widened. Even living out in the wild, she understood the implications of that title. Chanyn had seen books on pornography. Women splayed open for the enjoyment of men. Chanyn preferred reading her paperback novels to looking at the hardcover pictures. The women beneath the hardcovers always looked as though they were aping their pleasure; bodies alive but eyes dead.
Not Dain's mother. In the portrait, her eyes lit with joy and mischief, much like her son's.
"It's not a respected occupation," Dain said. "My mother's work made my family very wealthy, but she didn't do it for the money. She wanted to find a way to share her pleasure with the less fortunate. The men of the world who would never know the touch of a woman."
Dain paused and waited for Chanyn to turn to him. When she did, she noticed the defensive set to his jaw.
"She wasn't a whore," he said. "She only performed with my fathers."
Chanyn caught sight of Khial across the room. His brow raised in anticipation, as though waiting for her to make a mistake.
"She's very beautiful," Chanyn told Dain. Then she looked over at Khial whose brow lowered and scowl increased. "Thank you for the compliment," Chanyn told Khial.
Khial's head jerked back. She could've imagined it, but his scowling lips may have quirked up in the slightest hint of amusement.
"How long ago was this painted?" Chanyn asked.
"About a year before she died," said Dain.
"But she's so young."
"Yes," Dain nodded. "She died in an... accident. Along with both my fathers."
There was a slam and a loud click. Khial fastened the lock on his violin case. He turned without looking at either of them and left the room. The brief, warm camaraderie left with him.
When Chanyn turned her attention back to Dain his head was bowed, his eyes closed. A second passed. He raised his head and the dismayed look was gone. His eyes were bright, the brilliant smile in place once more.
"I wanted to discuss something with you, Lady Chanyn." Dain led her to a dainty sofa. "The decision to come here means that your life will change in many ways."
"It already has," Chanyn smoothed the material of her new dress as she sat.
"You do understand that women are scarce in the world. I know that your mother didn't agree with our ways, but you will be pressured to take a pair bond."
Chanyn nodded. Her heart speeding up once more.
It appeared that Dain misread her look. Concern etched his beautiful face and he took her hands in his. "Chanyn, no one will ever hurt you. It is not only sacrilege to hurt a female, it’s illegal. There's nothing to fear."
"I'm not afraid. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to be in a bond."
He smiled at this. "You are no longer alone. You will always have my friendship."
Chanyn's face fell. Rianald was wrong. Dain had no interest in her in that way.
"I promise that the choice of mates will be yours," he continued. "And I hope..." He paused, uncertain, looking down at their joined hands.
Chanyn got the impression of Dain as a child asking for permission to have something he didn't think he deserved, but was desperate for it anyway.
"I hope," he began again, "that you will consider Khial and myself for a—"
"Yes!"
Dain startled at her response, then he smiled. "Good. I had hoped..." He squeezed their hands together. "This is good."
Chanyn's heart thudded in her exposed chest. She was sure Dain could see it. He gazed into her eyes. Was this it? Was her first kiss going to happen now?
Dain rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hand. His eyes dipped to her lips. Chanyn parted them in invitation.
Dain brought his eyes back up to her face, his eyes widening more as he looked at the desire clearly written on Chanyn's face.
Dain disentangled their fingers and patted her knee. "This is really good news," he repeated and then rose. "I'll make the arrangements today." He walked over to the large desk that took up most of the room.
"Arrangements? For the marriage?"
He glanced up. "Oh no, no. Arrangements for your training."
"Training?"
"Of course. With a Pleasure Hound."
Chanyn looked on, dumbfounded. He talked of marriage and then was about to get her some kind of dog to train. "A dog would be lovely, I suppose."
Dain laughed. "A Pleasure Hound is a man trained in the art of pleasing a woman." He said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Chanyn shook her head. "I still don't understand. Why would I need another man to..." To what exactly? Have sex with her?
Dain came back around from the desk and sat next to her once more. He reached for her hand.
"Chanyn," he began. His face now sheepish. "I've never... been with a woman before. I wouldn't know the first thing to do to please you."
"But shouldn't we, you know, figure that out together?"
Dain looked scandalized. He reeled back from her. "I would likely hurt you. A Pleasure Hound is trained to find out what pleases individual women. Then they teach the woman's bonded mates those particular techniques. It’s an ancient tradition going back hundreds of years."
Chanyn still looked dubious.
"In our culture women rule. When we are bonded, everything that I have will essentially be yours."
Chanyn knew that in the twentieth century women fought for and earned a place in the government and the right to own many forms of business. But she hadn't a clue that the roles of men and women had shifted so completely on its axis in the past thousand years.
"Chanyn, on this one thing I must insist. I want what's best for you. In this one aspect of our life together, a hound will help me in achieving that."
Dain looked at her with such earnestness. In the two days that she'd known him, he'd done nothing but look out for her best interest. She supposed this was just one more of those times.
And so she decided she would try.
Chapter Six
"Come now, Jian. How long has it been since you've had a warm cunt on your rod?"
Jian shifted the packages in his hand as he walked along the paved way. The sun felt like a laser on his back, aiming right at his shoulder blades. A drop of water traveled down his spine. Jian ached to itch it away but his hands were too loaded down with the packages, necessary supplies for the Brotherhood, back at the temple.
"Unlike that little filly that got you in trouble all those years ago, I'm grown enough to know not to talk."
Lady Kathryn's conveyance sleeked down the street alongside Jian. Its conditioned air blowing out of the window, cooling him from the stifling heat. Jian glanced inside the car. A chilled drink awaited him in the passenger seat, along with ripe berries. He hadn't had berries in months. The temple could not afford such luxuries, and even in times when they could, his brothers felt it sacrilege to enjoy the fruit outside the presence of women, the divine creatures who made it possible for the earth to bear such divine treats.
"I'll pay you handsomely for your talents, monk."
Jian's eyes snapped to the older woman at the driver's panel. Though past her prime, Lady Kathryn was still lovely to behold. Silver at the roots of her hair, rouge to cover wrinkling skin, breasts lifted with the help of under wiring. She wore a deep pink chemise, the color of her own sacred fruit.
She'd armed herself in temptation, but the vile words that left her mouth turned Jian's spine to stone.
"I thank you for your attention, my lady. But the Code of the Brotherhood of the Pleasure Hounds binds me to tend to women only in the name of the Goddess." Not only did hounds exclusively serve women aiming to bear female children, they only served women in bonds, with the full knowledge and participation of their bonded mates. "If I'm not mistaken, you are past your breeding prime, and I do not see your mates about."
Lady Kathryn's face turned from serene seductress to scorned siren in a heart's beat. "Your
Brotherhood is not long for the world as a result of your own lack of integrity, hound. Both your morals and your decrepit temple have holes. I won't offer mine, again."
She sped off, her wheels kicking dust up into Jian's face. He shifted the packages into one hand and, using his robes, wiped as much of the grime from his face as he could. He looked down at his robes and grimaced. The stain would not come out without detergent and soaps. Another luxury the Brotherhood could no longer afford.
Just as well. He had no clients to dress nicely for. With a sigh, Jian continued towards his beloved temple.
There were few people on the streets at midday. Most were at work or school. Two young ladies strolled arm in arm, their four mates walking at a distance. The two females snuck glances at Jian as they neared. The taller girl spoke behind her hand as the other one gaped at Jian. When the tall girl pulled her hand away, the other shook her head in disbelief.
Jian could guess the trajectory of their gossip by that shake of disbelief. Young women no longer believed in the work of the Brotherhood. Myth, they called the female orgasm. Jian ached to tell them it was all too real and their sacred right to boot, but four sets of male eyes glared at him, and so he kept his mouth shut and his head down. Jian paused and bowed as the two women passed him. He kept his head down at the aggression of the four men who closed ranks around the women. They hadn't needed to. The Brotherhood was a pacifist brood by nature and creed.
The Sisterhood had long been leery of the Brotherhood of the Pleasure Hounds. Many of the older women had firsthand knowledge of the hounds' skills. They knew a single orgasm impaired a woman's judgment temporarily. Multiple orgasms, in which the hounds specialized, could render them entirely witless. That much power in a man's hands made the Sisterhood anxious. They need not have feared. The Brotherhood had no designs on earthly powers. Their order was entirely devoted to the Goddess. But one misstep in Jian’s youth, one dark spot of misjudgment, brought the ancient temple to its knees.
Lady Kathryn's words echoed as the temple came into sight. There were holes in the temple. The Temple of the Brotherhood of Pleasure Hounds was indeed in bad shape. In its heyday, the temple had been a beacon of activity. Bonded triads lined up to use the services of the hounds, who had mastered time tested methods of producing female offspring. Even when unions produced male children, happy couples gladly paid tithes to the monks who showed the couples methods of bringing pleasure to all in the union, not just the females.
Now, without any females gracing their steps, the temple’s gardens were all but bare. The domed roof needed repairs. The roof was work that a few young men could handle, but no young men remained inside the walls of the temple to accomplish it. Jian, who was in the last years of his twenties, was the youngest who remained.
He trudged up the walkway. Behind him, he heard the crunch of tires once more. Jian sighed. In truth, he ached for the feel of a female against his body. It was the greatest boon of being a hound. Being in the presence of that sacredness made him feel important; a part of the Goddess, a part of a family. Being of service, being needed, drove him to these doors after being discarded at a young age. It’s why most of the hounds did their work. They were all discarded third or fourth sons.
That sense of being needed once clouded Jian's judgment when a young, newly bonded girl declared herself in love with him. Jian never imagined such a thing was possible, having the love of a woman. It had been a heady experience that he hadn't wanted to end.
Love was a rare thing, a divine gift, just like female babies. Gifts were not wasted on discards. Jian had been sourly disappointed by love. Five years later, he continued to pay the debt of that disappointment. What rankled was that his brothers were condemned to suffer alongside him.
Jian could take the money from women wanting only his pleasure services. That would fix the roof. Put berries in the bellies of the old hounds who still remained within. But Jian couldn't bring himself to do it. Giving pleasure outside of his vows was akin to expecting love. It would be a betrayal of the Goddess who had shown him a way to be useful, a way to be needed.
And so Jian turned around to face the stopped car with a spine of steel, to offer up his own dish of disappointment.
A man disembarked from the vehicle. A very beautiful man with golden hair, green eyes, and a friendly smile.
"Hello," the man said walking toward Jian. "Are you Brother Jian?"
"If you're looking for a gigolo, you need to continue down the road for about a mile. Place called Stallions. You can't miss it."
The man's eyes went wide, then transformed into an amused grin. "I'm not looking for male company. I'm in need of a Pleasure Hound."
Jian peered into the car. There were no others occupying the conveyance. "Hounds only work with bonded triads."
"Yes, I know. A female has just accepted my bond mate and myself."
Jian raised dubious eyebrows. This man looked a little too old to be newly mated. He knew the age and conjugal status of every female in the city. There were no unbonded females, of age, at present. Jian told the man so.
The man nodded his blonde head. "She's not from the city. It’s rather... extraordinary circumstances."
Jian's hope sparked for a moment, until he remembered the chaos from the last time he trained an eighteen-year-old female just on the other side of puberty, but still not mature enough to be called a grown woman.
As though reading Jian's thoughts, or more likely being informed from the scandal, the man addressed Jian's concerns. "My lady is nearly twenty-one years and quite independent. She has lived outside of our culture and is not used to the ways of men. She needs help understanding me and my mate as much as we'll need help understanding her."
Training a grown woman with two devoted mates? Jian's interest peaked.
"I aim to do right by her, by blessing our union in the ancient ways that please the Goddess."
The man respected the ways of the temple? And...
"And of course I'm willing to pay a hefty sum for your services." The man's eyes skirted the crumbling face of the temple and then met Jian's once more.
Could this be the chance Jian prayed the Goddess for? A clearly wealthy patron, needing him to train a grown woman who was unlikely to harbor any of the childish unsanctioned fancies of love. It seemed too good to be true.
Jian put the packages down and stuck out his hand. "You have a deal."
The man clasped Jian's hand. "Excellent. My name is Dain. When can you start?"
Chapter Seven
Chanyn plopped down on her bed, finally kicking off the torturous heels. The plush mattress cushioned her decent and embraced her aching body. Chanyn's day had been exhausting. She'd been plucked and primed in the morning. Spent the afternoon touring the house and grounds with Dain. And then returned to her rooms to be plucked and primed again this evening. She never expected leisure to be so exhausting.
Instead of going to sleep, she had one more appointment to keep. Dain had hired the Pleasure Hound earlier in the day and his arrival was imminent. Rianald, Tem, and Clent dressed her in a sparse gown with a handful of ties down the front. It was the most reveling piece of clothing she'd ever seen. Not to mention, she wore it to meet a stranger who would help her perform intimate relations with the man of her dreams and his sulky lover.
Just two days ago, Chanyn had been alone. Today, she was trying to juggle three men.
She stood once more, too antsy to keep still. Dain had made no more overtures to her after his proposal. Instead, he started an inquiry into her parentage with only her mother's name to go on. It shouldn't be too hard to find them, he assured her. Women did not routinely run away from society.
During their time together in the afternoon, his touches had all been friendly, not proprietary. Their conversation had been as thought-provoking and engaging as their time in the car ride. They continued to learn more about each other and find things in common.
He hated beets. She loved them.
He lov
ed the mornings. So did she.
He favored board games. She was eager to learn them.
He hadn't attempted to kiss her or embrace her.
Khial had been entirely absent the rest of the day.
"He's practicing his music," Dain answered when she queried the other man's whereabouts.
Chanyn ached to hear more of his music. She was sure she would get to, once they were truly bonded. Once they had an actual conversation without him scowling at her. Chanyn took her mind off Mister Tall, Dark, and Broody and waited for her carnal tutor to show up.
Panic set in.
What if this hound was unattractive? Dain compared the hound to a monk, that was like a priest. Most priests she'd read about were old men with white hair, pudgy bellies, and strict faces. Could she really be expected to have her first experience with an old, crotchety man?
A gentle rap sounded at the door.
Chanyn froze. She looked around for escape, but the only way out was the door.
The gentle rap sounded again.
"Lady Chanyn?"
The voice didn't sound old, it sounded gentle, pleasant.
"Yes?" Chanyn croaked.
The handle turned.
The door opened.
Chanyn gasped. "You're not old."
The man who stood in the doorway bowed his head. He was dressed in green and brown robes held together with a golden sash. His head was shaved bald, but Chanyn could tell that the hair that grew there was black. His coloring was a few shades lighter than her brown, darker than the tan of Dain's skin, with a healthy glow like Khial's.
The man rose and Chanyn caught sight of his face. His eyes were wide and slanted. Dark pupils peered back at her. Though they were dark, his eyes reminded Chanyn of a pool of still water. There was depth there that she felt pulled to.
He frowned. "Would you prefer someone older?"
It took Chanyn a moment to realize what he was referring to. Unable to pull her gaze away from his, she shook her head.
