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It is the light of the lantern that awakens Alysa but it is not sitting on the bedside table any longer. Instead, it is held in the gloved hand of none other than Dakrom, whose dark wavy hair is tied back into a ponytail by a dark green ribbon that matches his gold embroidered waistcoat, under which he wears a bright white long sleeved shirt. Her initial impression of him as a gentleman has somewhat since the previous evening but he remains undeniably handsome by the standards of beauty in this realm.

'The mistress bids your company for supper. You slept most of the day.' A thin smile plays at his pale lips. 'I supposed that is to be expected after the long tiring evening you enjoyed.' He had watched Alysa as she had writhed and moaned at Mira's touch but his green eyes reveal nothing of her emotions save for a very evident envy. For whom, however, Alysa could only guess. In his other hand, he twirls his cane, which is also illuminated. 'I would suggest you dress in something more formal than those rags you're wearing,' Dakrom adds, indicating the plain but well crafted gown that someone, perhaps the mistress herself, had pulled on to her unconscious body.

Alysa looks puzzled as she sits up once again "might you perhaps have a suggestion as to something more suitable then?" she sighed, still not being one for the dresses and gowns of women's clothing. "After all you would know far better than I what the mistress likes or does not like".

'Let us get you out of those clothes then,' Dakrom suggests with a smile, 'and I shall see what I can do.' His implications are subtle but nevertheless very clear. Those hungry eyes gaze upon Alysa as Lemia did at the roast while feeding the blonde woman. Alysa nods apprehensively as she moves to stand up, her hand brushing through her hair nervously as Dakrom looks her over. "After all i would hate to disappoint the mistress so soon".

'And she can be very fickle,' Dakrom concedes as he extends his hand to Alysa and assists her in rising to her feet. 'But I have found all women of her tender age to be that way. Wouldn't you agree? You'll have to trust me concerning style and fashion. You may have noticed a lack of mirrors but I assure you that is owed mostly to the vanity of the lady of the house.'His voice is rich with contempt for Mira and Alysa shall feel a sudden, unbidden surge of anger as this man mocks her mistress.

Alysa manages to bite back a growl of displeasure unsure where this defesnsive nature has come from and what has caused it. All she knows is she does not like the tone of his voice when he speaks of her mistress.

'Come along then,' Dakrom says. 'There are some gowns in the wardrobe here and I'm certain we can find something suitable.' He walks into the shadows and stands near the pair of large wooden cabinets, opening them to reveal dozens of dresses of various sizes and styles.'She has quite the collection,' he adds, running his fingers over the edges of the hanging gowns. 'Between she and my mistress, I would wager they shall fill every room in this manor by the time they're through. So little changes in so many years and yet they still cannot help themselves.'

Shrugging, Dakrom gives Alysa a sidelong glance and a small grin. 'But I need not tell you all this as you are a woman yourself.'

Alysa smirked, still not quite sure she enjoyed him talking about Mira in such a manner but deciding to let him continue at least for the moment for he was doing no harm really, "I wouldn't know honestly, my upbringing didn't exactly allow for an overabundance of dresses or in fact any at all" she explains "so I shall have to rely on your judgement for the moment',

Nodding and exhaling deeply through his nostrils, Dakrom gestures with his hand. 'Come then. Off with the clothes, my lady. We must not keep the mistress waiting.'

Alysa carefully works her way out of the dress, not sure of the extent of her injury at the moment but certain she would be surprised if she chose to look. She nervously toys with her hair as she waits to see what he's chosen for her.

Though Alysa cannot get a clear look at his face, for as he holds the lantern, he is little more than a shadow behind the almost blinding light, she can still somehow feel his eyes upon her, drinking in the sight of her. She has some scrapes and bruises around her breasts and on her arms but it is her thighs were the bandages are wound thick at the joint where her legs meet her trunk and her still pulsing sex lay between.

'You are very beautiful,' Dakrom says quietly. 'The mistress has exquisite taste. Fate seems to favor her as she was so fortunate to find you on that lonely forest road.' After a lengthy pause but before Alysa can reply, Dakrom sets the lantern on a small table next to the wardrobes and begins to inspect the dresses. 'So many styles and colors but I suspect that you would look delicious in any of them. Have you a preference? The mistress is partial to blue and violet but I am certain she shall find you appealing regardless of what you wear.' His back is to Alysa but she can still hear the grin in Dakrom's voice. 'Or do not wear.'

"Fate is a fickle thing though" Alysa says cryptically before changing the subject entirely. "I've always been more of a fan of black and dark colors myself, but if the mistress likes blue I'm certain I can indulge her tastes this evening, who knows perhaps i might even find I like it" she laughs, hoping the shadows cast between them hide the blush that springs to her cheeks as she hears the implication in his voice. She's never been shy but something about everything that has happened to her seems to affect her more than she thought it would.

'Black is so bleak and mournful,' Dakrom chides. 'It's also so very predictable. I suppose a midnight blue is a compromise but with your skin tone, I would suggest a brighter shade. You may wonder how it is I came to know so much about such matters and I shall tell you that I have been manservant to my mistress for far longer than you may believe.'

He turns his head slightly to watch Alysa. 'I do not mean Madam Armonde, incidentally. I mean my true mistress. I only serve Madam Armonde at the pleasure of another.' There is a dull but noticeable edge to his words that suggests he is less than pleased with this arrangement.

Twisting the head of his cane once more, Dakrom activates the globe of light atop it and proceeds to continue to survey his choices.

'Yes, I do believe a lovely shade of sapphire would compliment you well.'

He reaches into the midst of the collection and withdraws a sleek, shimmering backless gown with full shoulder straps. 'This appears as though it would fit you.'

Alysa smiles as she looks over the dress he's offered her. "I'm sure it will look beautiful, you seem to have excellent taste Dakrom". She smiles and proceeds to slip into the gorgeous dress, looking at him for approval with a cautious smile. "how does it look?"

Dakrom holds it out and waits for Alysa to approach. Then he crouches down and lets her step into it before slowly raising it up her body, his leather clad hands tracing over her curves as he does so. He allows her to step away and turn around to put on a display.

'We shall need to do something about your hair,' he murmurs. 'Turn around and I shall pin it up. To wear it long at the dinner table is simply inappropriate.'

Alysa obediently turns to allow him to fix her hair. She's never really felt comfortable in places like this but perhaps given enough time she could adapt. It is strange to her to be allowing someone to dress her like a child's doll, but the whispering in her mind assures her that it will all be worth it in the end, despite what her own thoughts may be on the matter. "I appreciate your help Dakrom, I've never had reason to well, clean up to this extent" she says nervously "but I am sure the mistress will appreciate the effort"

His fingertips caress along her spine as he leans in close, exhaling a cool breath that blows errant strands of hair around her ear. 'It is my pleasure to serve you, my lady,' Dakrom replies in a whisper. Those hands now move up to her long mane as he deftly weaves it together, twirling it into a tight bun and securing it with a hairpin.His lips trail along her shoulders and to her neck as Dakrom stands behind Alysa, his hands resting on her hips. 'You seem somewhat tense, my lady. Perhaps there is something I can do to calm your nerves.'

Alysa shivers at his touch and shakes her head. "Thank you Dakrom but I'm fine, just the after effects of the wine Lemia gave me I'm sure". She isn't sure what it is but something about his presence makes her nervous.

His tongue darts out to leave a moist trail up the nape of her neck. 'Are you certain, my lady?' Now his hands find their way under her dress to softly caress her sex while the other fondles her backside. 'I think, my lady, I would like to place a wager.'

" A wager Dakrom?" she asks curiously, clearly struggling to keep her voice even despite his exploration of her body. "Just what wager would you like to place hmmm?" She manages a teasing purr as she squirms.

His fingers, having slipped inside the fabric through the slits along the side of the gown, begin to rub Alysa's mound slowly. 'We have little time, my lady, but I would like to find out if I can make you scream just as loud as the mistress of the house.'Soon, his other hand joins his first, delicately peeling open the petals of her flower to find out if it yet flows with nectar.'Just some friendly competition, you understand,' Dakrom murmurs as he bites lightly along her shoulders and her exposed throat. 'Surely you would not protest, would you?'A single digit makes a steady, furtive exploration into her sex, testing the waters, so to speak.

Alysa can't help but whimper at his touch, unsure of what it is he truly wants from her and whether her mistress would allow this wager at all. "i-i suppose" she stammers, distracted by his attentions and her breath catches in her throat. "i-if you think the mistress won't mind"

'Let me tell you about your mistress,' Dakrom says, his voice very casual as he eases two fingers up inside of Alysa. The swelling has subsided but now she finds herself at the mercy of yet another denizen of Redclyffe. With every syllable, the insistent thrusting of his fingers intensifies.

'Your mistress is still young. She has much to learn beyond using her charms to ensnare hapless lovely creatures like yourself. For me, it can be pleasure.'His other hand now grabs her hair, at once undoing the bun he had so artfully knotted as he yanks back Alysa's head so he can look into her eyes. 'Or fear. Whatever causes your heart to pulse more swiftly, to cause the blood to rush through your veins. However, to show that I am a fair minded gentleman, I shall give you a choice. Fear me, my dear Alysa, or fuck me. I can already tell which your body would prefer.'

Dakrom kisses along her jawline and up to her ear, nipping at the lobe. 'Poor Madam Armonde. She had not been a virgin but she was woefully inexperienced in some ways, despite all those books she read. Her education was a pleasure of mine as well as many, many others.'By now, the rapidity of his fingers as they repeatedly penetrate Alysa fills the room with a lewd, liquid sound and her body, already weak, might threaten to collapse beneath her if not for the strong hands holding her hair and clutching her cunt.

Alysa whimpers as he grabs her hair, trembling as he pulled her back though not for the reason he might think. She felt so conflicted standing here like this and she knew in her weakened state she would lose any fight she made against him and that she was to weak to run so she simply nods. To her this is a means to an end, she is used to using her charms as a bargaining chip with men like Dakrom and it is not so hard for her to swallow her pride and submit to him, though not as eagerly as she had to his mistress.

'As you would expect,' Dakrom explains, raising his voice to still be heard over the wet slapping sounds of the heel of his hand against her clitoris as he buries his fingers deeper and deeper within the confines of the gateway to her womb, 'once she had a taste of it, well, she simply could not sate her appetites. I can't begrudge her pleasures. It is why you stand before me, mewling like a wounded animal. Would you like to partake of my seed, Alysa? Shall I fill your whore mouth with it or shall I ruin your womb? Or perhaps a woman of experience such as yourself prefers more exotic passages.'

His face is pressed against that of Alysa, cheek to cheek in this sinful dance. 'You need not call ME Master, Alysa, but you shall scream for me. Scream for me as you reach your release!'It is a command given to a woman already beset by weakness but his tone is so commanding, his words so pleasing to the ear. His charms are not any less potent than those of the lady of the house, even if Alysa is more prepared to hear them from the lips of a man. This man, however, puts all those with whom Alysa has been intimate to shame with his knowing, patient rhythm. Between Dakrom and Mira, Alysa might perish of pleasure in this place but such a demise could prove so much more welcome than the many violent ends that could await her elsewhere.

Alysa cannot hold back her whimpers and moans of pleasure as he touches her. She cannot remember the last time a man touched her like this and she finds herself craving more despite her apprehension. It seems that her gorgeous body is going to be something of a currency around here for as long as she stays here and she must decide if that is something she can abide, but for the moment her body grows weaker with every skilled touch she recieves and soon the only thing keeping her upright will be the man's hands holding her hair and torturing her limp body.

Ramming his digits in and out of Alysa, Dakrom snarls in her ear, his grip on her hair growing more and more painful as her body sags in his grasp, impaling herself on his fingers.'Scream for me, you scoundrel bitch!'

She cannot help but give in to him, her screams of pleasure filling the space around them. She cannot take any more of his sweet tortures and her body tenses against him as she finds he's driven her to what if last night is any indication is the first of many intense orgasms.

Suddenly, Dakrom withdraws his hand from between her thighs, which now tingle as the bandages begin to turn a faint pink, and he relinquishes his grasp on her hair, letting Alysa slump down to her knees.He licks his gloved fingers, seeming to savor the taste of her. 'A fine vintage, indeed. Young and fiery but still in need of seasoning.'Reaching down, Dakrom twists her head around to bring her face level with his waist. 'I trust you know to undo a man's trousers? I would guess you're not a stranger to my demands.'

Alysa knows exactly what he expects of her and with a trembling hand she reaches to undo his trousers, her midnight blue eyes turned to him. Though Alysa is not especially experienced she is capable enough in her actions, despite the tingling feeling that she can easily guess means whatever wound she sustained last night has reopened.

He is not especially large or thick, though he is entirely bald below the waist. His rigid length springs free and Dakrom yanks her head forward towards his manhood. The smile upon his face is one of vile delight in her debasement.The head of his cock rubs against Alysa's lips and she will immediately notice it is cold. Not simply cool, like the feel of skin chilled by a winter's day, but cold like a corpse left out in the snow. Something dark and sticky dribbles from the tip, leaving a reddish smear on her mouth.

Alysa whimpers as she parts her lips, there is something going on here that even she cannot understand. Her body trembles as she allows him access to the warm depths of her mouth, stroking her lips along his length almost nervously. Her hesitation is not entirely from fear, she has only done this one other time and it was not a pleasant experience for her. But with the warmth of her own orgasm still flowing through her veins she must admit that this time seems more enjoyable, especially since it seems that for the moment he is allowing her control.

Dakrom releases a low hiss like a boiling kettle, clenching his teeth with his head upraised as Alysa's hot mouth engulfs his icy shaft. She can taste the bitterness of his skin, like bad meat that has been frozen and thawed, and the blood that oozes from his cock where she might expect the saline of his seed. 'Very good,' he says, his voice still level. 'If you are as skilled with your pistol and sword as you are with your mouth, you shall make a fine addition to the household once Mother returns!'

With some urging, Dakrom allows Alysa to set the pace of her actions, though his fingers remained ensnared in her hair. 'Surely she shall not deny us a new pet after all we have done for her! Oh, but you shall be more than that, my dear Alysa!'

The door of the guest room opens and Lucia stands there, lantern in hand. Her eyes widen and her entire body stiffens at the sight that lies before her.'Get out,' Darkom growls calmly, beginning to gently thrust his hips to meet Alysa, shoving his cock further into the woman's mouth. Lucia nods and withdraws, hurrying away. 'We have not much time, my lady,' Dakrom informs Alysa. 'So proceed with haste and I shall fill your gullet.'

Alysa whimpers as she works to obey him, moving her lips slightly faster and allowing him to push deeper with each stroke. The familiar taste of blood fills her mouth as she does and she cannot help but wonder why even as she continues with her task. She is somehow more afraid in this moment of displeasing the man who stands over her than she is of anything else. He has already proven that he can manipulate her body like a puzzle box and overwhelm her senses with both pain and pleasure on a whim.

He runs his fingers through her long, golden hair as her head bobs up and down on him until she feels him twitch and tremble in her mouth before a sickly gush of something thick and gelid spurts against the back of her throat.'You swallow it!' Dakrom snarls fiercely. 'Swallow it all and feel it inside you!' Alysa nods timidly as she manages to choke down the sickeningly thick liquid that clings to her throat. She doesn't dare speak for something in her mind tells her that for once it is better she remain silent.

'Ahhhh!' Dakrom sighs quietly, as if he were parched and had just taken a refreshing swallow of water. Another surge of the liquid, which is indescribable in its fetid, horrid taste which is not blood alone but distinctly rotten. It is all Alysa may be able to do to prevent herself from gagging.Worse still. as it slides down her throat, she can feel her entire body beginning to go numb, the cold of the fluid radiating through her every nerve and robbing her of strength.

'Such a good girl,' Dakrom says, almost mockingly. After a third draught of his gory seed is expelled into the woman's mouth, threatening to drown her unless she hastily swallows it, he gently pulls his still hardended cock from her mouth. It is streaked with ribbons of red mixed with her saliva.Pulling out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his waistcoat, Dakrom offers it to Alysa. 'Wipe your mouth and then cleanse me. Do you understand?'

Alysa struggles to stay upright and swallow the sickening liquid in her mouth at the same time which for her is somewhat of a triumph in her weakened state. But suddenly she begins to feel the cold and the same exhaustion from earlier threatens to close in on her.She weakly reaches up to accept the handkerchief from Dakrom's hand, noticing that her own are shaking as though she has been out in a winter storm. She wipes the blood from her mouth carefully before raising a still trembling hand to clean him off. Her instincts rage for a moment, screaming that she is in danger here and yet as quickly as they rise they are quelled, by the same insistent and nagging thought of all the things she has been promised.

Once she has completed this last task she gets to her feet once again, her mouth still full of the putrid taste that seems to linger. Her legs are as unsteady as newborn deer and she attempts to stay on her feet rather valiantly. However,she cannot simply stand up. Her legs refuse to lift her and her arms are limp, like a discarded doll.

With one hand reaching for his cane which he had left propped against the small table, Dakrom offers the other to Alysa, easily pulling her to her feet with minimal effort. Like Mira, he is far stronger than he looks. Even so, Alysa shall feel drugged or poisoned, incredibly weak and the source is not in doubt. Whatever is happening here, it is not natural and all the earlier warnings she had not heeded now flash before her in the darkness. The chill of Dakrom's effluvia still stirs in her core, sending numbing waves that constantly threaten to rob her of all sense and strength. It is more intense that the wine had been.

Dakrom offers Alysa his arm with a smile. 'If you've any appetite left,' he says, 'then let us go to dinner. I am certain that the lady shall be pleased to see you.'