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Hung, I reminded myself...the email I'd sent her from anew hotmail address introduced myself as a psychology major who wasdoing a paper on transgenderism, and she had agreed to give me a fewminutes of her time that afternoon.I took my time meandering through the beautiful campus, trying torehearse in my mind the questions I'd be asking Dr. Hung. When nobodywas nearby, I practiced the girlish voice which the mistresses haddrilled into me, feeling very self-conscious. By the time I got to thebiology building, I was nervous as a kitten, a far cry from the masterof the universe who'd stormed this ivory tower a few months earlier.How the mighty have fallen, I thought ruefully as I fussed with my dressand freshened my lip gloss in the ladies' room. I perched my sunglasseson top of my head, took a long last look at myself in the mirror, andheaded down the hall to Dr. Hung's office before I could change my mind.Her door was ajar, and it opened wide when I knocked on it tentatively. The. He was about to say something, perhaps along the lines of asking her if she would be cold, when a sudden light came on in his eyes. His belief in her innocence wasn’t too strong to dull his sharp mind, she saw. ‘And you are going to keep me warm’, she said, throwing her arms around him, and pressing her body, with its goosebumps, against him. ‘Although you have to get out of those cold clothing to do that.’ ‘But, don’t you think…’ She kissed him, hard, enjoying the surprising softness of his lips. She broke the kiss. ‘But Princess…’ ‘But what?’ ‘I am meant to protect you, not use you…’ ‘You are meant to serve me. I gave you an order.’ ‘I could be punished if…’ ‘You could be punished for refusing my orders. And no one is going to see us here.’ He looked confused, so she changed tactics, instead giving him a fetching look, pleading with her eyes. He slowly complied with her orders, taking off most of his clothing. Even before he was done, she was running her hands up and down his body,.
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It started to become more audible as he entered the common room, lit yellow and orange with the burning of the fire. No one tended to it, as it seemed to do that on its own, shifting the wood from one place to another whenever it would normally be needed. It was good, because a stain of blood on the floor told Garen that the maids were likely not available to do it themselves. He shook his head, the fire was not acting of its own accord, he thought resolutely, but couldn’t keep from glancing back as he heard the fuel change place. His focus was still mostly on the music, which seemed to come from up the stairs to one of the main lord’s rooms along with a sweet fragrance he only noticed just now. It struck him as a little odd that he could hear and smell such things from near the entrance, but he dismissed the thought. Slowly, when he’d scaled the stairs and was before the oak door, he stretched a hand out to open the door. It unlatched loudly, and cracked open so that he could push.

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