For your reading pleasure here is the beginning of:

TALES OF PROPHECY VOLUME 1

THE LAND OF THE BUTTERFLIES, Lakker

PROLOGUE BOOK 2

TALES OF PrOPHECY

Creation is about producing meaning. Meaning is developed through a sequence of steps that are constantly cycling. These steps happen in many different scales. They involve recognition of a significant variance between the definition of an image and the reflection it produces. This is the difference between what is and what really is or should be. Building the Kingdom of God is accomplished by perceiving a need to modify the understanding (or meaning) to render this variance negligible. The next step involves internalization of a methodology which adheres to the will of God which will generate promise.

Then the Instrument of Creation recognizing the variance must work through a process to gain the correct understanding of relativity to adhere to the will of God. When accomplished, a stronger attachment with sufficient resilience to achieve a viable relationship with God is developed. This enhances the ability to serve God in creating a greater or more accurate meaning to the Kingdom of God. Success leads to realization of promise which generally brings about disclosure of prophecy which may involve one or more miracles. Each miracle reduces the variance recognized.

Should the variance be rendered negligible, an entirely new scale to the Kingdom of God can be achieved through appropriate alignment of prophecies. When accomplished, the Kingdom of God outgrows a scale and must initiate the development of meaning on the next scale.

Typically, these scales are labeled as days of creation. When a new scale is achieved, we start over by learning to recognize variance between the new scales image and the reflection it produces with the enhanced meaning which in essence magnifies the variance into something recognizable as significant again.

For example, the idea of the first day of creation being an image of beginning with concurrent concepts of exploding and imploding which allowed the formation of the concept of reality or time through a scale of direction. On another scale, creation is viewed from the scale or perception of form where actions and reactions produce dust and ashes. Dust dissipates action and reactions unite ashes. Form is a scale of the concept of motion, movement, or change.

PRELUDE TO PROPHECY

The next step in realizing promise is to develop the power of attachment to produce the unified spiritual force capable of having sufficient resilience to endure the consequences of change necessary to contribute to the realization of the next level of creation.

Attachment is a spiritual connection between separate entities which unifies them into a new unit focused on common goals in their service to God and the group rather than on self. When attached, one replaces their identity as an individual with one supporting membership and creates a sense of connection and belonging.

Learning the lessons of God is like the caterpillar now safely enclosed within his cocoon as though held in the arms of God to allow his image or body to disintegrate and initiate reformation into the form of a butterfly. The new form will become a new image. His life’s main purpose will no longer be to grow and collect nutrients. Instead, these purposes change to finding a mate and ensuring eggs will be laid where hatching is likely to enable the cycle to eternally repeat.

As a creature of God’s, it will also feed other living organisms along the way because each step generates more than enough to sustain his species. He is part of the Kingdom of God, belongs and does his duty supporting creation with the sacrifices made by his brothers, sisters, parents, offspring, and ultimately his own life.

Are you willing to risk you soul?

Our Instrument of creation, York Sabastin, was willing to die for love. He would break laws, offer his soul, and put his life on the line to save the soul of another…

He loves God, creation, his people, and himself. Throughout his career as a Cultural Judge, he has loved other lands and beings. When York Sabastin was given his assignment and walked at South Beach trying to discover a methodology for solving his assignment, God told him to love us, but with continued research, he felt only more loathing, disgust, and fear.

Having risked his soul for Torac, and had the Panel honoured rather than executed him, York understood he was now among the great judges of his land. His life forfeited. His destiny was now to die for another. Love, to him, meant sacrifice.

God told him to love us, and he did not. Neither did his people. Feeling alone and lost, he forged ahead. Now he has tasted love and claimed the quarters of the sire of Lakker Castle and is no longer alone.

How long will he survive?

INTRODUCING BOOK 2

In Book 1 - Preparations, of the Land of the Butterflies, A Prelude to Prophecy, our Instrument of Creation, York Sabastin, was able to obtain the position demanded by God to enable him to receive the lessons necessary to complete his assignment.

Now he must struggle through the ramifications of those lessons to serve both the needs of his castle and his assignment through understanding how to love as commanded by God in Book 2 – Lakker of The Land of the Butterflies, A Prelude to Prophecy.

LAKKER PROLOGUE

September 20, 2020,

Well friends, York Sabastin was able to obtain the position demanded by God to enable him to begin receiving the lessons necessary to complete his assignment.

Now that he has gained access to the Sire’s quarters of Lakker Castle, and can claim his title as Sire, he must deal with the resentment likely to arise when the castle members read his application and the terms of his licence. There is hard work ahead of him to prove his love and respect for them and hopes to earn their forgiveness for the deception used to force their hand but determined to prevent them from harming themselves or his butterflies.

Please accept my invitation to discover how he manages his next lessons on how to love and unify his castles in the next book of The Land of the Butterflies, A Prelude to Prophecy - Lakker.

Sincerely,

Tara

19 NEW STRUGGLES SURFACE

What happened behind the door of the new sire of Lakker Castle’s room was as sacred as the dance of the butterflies. With mutual love and tenderness, York Sabastin and Alison Lakker consecrated their union. As midnight gave way to a new day, their world had changed. They were no longer a girl and a boy; they were a man and a woman. They each made a conscious decision to remain close, working to build a united castle around them. With open arms, they would encourage the others to dance and to join them in bringing a future to Lakker Castle. With that thought in mind, they performed a Ritual of Thanksgiving, unpacking York’s sacred chest from his trunk and placing it with honour on the desk. Thanking God for the wonderful gift they had just shared, they prayed for a blessing in the form of a new life. On the Land of the Butterflies, there was only one reason to mate, and that was to conceive a child, who by its very existence would bind them irreversibly together.

Their ritual complete, Alison and York dressed. York had to check Isa’s condition, and rather than leave Alison alone in his room, she would go to her own. He stood beside her bed as he kissed her good night. All his being wanted to stay with her, and York had difficulty letting go of Alison. Moreover, Alison did not attempt to make it any easier. She held, caressed, and almost succeeded in seducing him. York managed to break her spell by falling to his knees and bursting into song. The Sabastin voice had more power and strength than that of an army. York sang to calm his own emotions as well as hers. Ringing true, his words reached the souls of every living being in the castle. Not a soul was untouched, and their hearts felt peace. A powerful man was indeed among them, and he was in control.

York did not stop singing until after he had closed the door to Alison’s room behind him. Then in a loud voice he said, “I will return to hold you once more! But for now, sleep, my love.”

Tara had warned him never to enter a mother’s room, and he thought he now understood why. Her room was a haven where she ruled. If he stayed, she gained control of him. Instead of being a free man, he would become the servant of an individual. No, York could not allow that to happen. He would not risk becoming cruel and sinful as men had become here before him. York fell to the floor and wept. Why was power so important in the lives of man? Why would he have to suffer, even in his greatest pleasure, to remain on the path of God? Control came slowly back to York; lifting himself up, he worshipped God. “Give me strength. I beg you, oh Mother! Jarrock,” he cried softly, “help me find comfort in being a man.”

Silence fell upon the castle, and York felt the unmistakable touch of God surround and hug him. He found peace once more and realized the hardest lessons were yet to come. The new Sire of Lakker Castle entered an examining room, splashed his face with cold water, took a deep breath, and headed for a door where he knew he would not be welcomed.

He knocked. No sound emerged from within the room. Knocking louder, York’s heart skipped a beat. What had he done to Isa? When met with continued silence, York wasted no further time in opening the door and rushing in. As the door swung closed behind him, he thought perhaps he had made a fateful mistake. Standing ready for this response, Isa could be planning to kill him. For a second, he dared not move. However, nothing happened. The room was silent except for the sound of one breathing, quietly in their sleep.

Quickly and quietly, York turned on the light over the sink. Isa lay asleep upon the bed just as he had left her. Wondering why the door had shut, he went back to ensure he was not locked in. The door had indeed locked. Thank God, York was wearing the key. Unlocking and leaving it open, he went to his office. He activated the security code files, ran through the voice verification routines to enable him to unlock any door on voice command. When he finished, York was shaking. With the women locked in their rooms, it had been awfully close to a disaster. He was not sure he could remember enough of the codes in the right sequence to relay them to Tara at her security post, to permit her to unlock the doors to free everyone.

A while ago, had he not been wearing the key, he and the entire castle would have slowly starved to death. This was why the death disc existed, and why it was not at the castle. He would have to find someone willing to take it. York figured he had only a few choices. He could give it to Tara Lecyan, Sorrel Lakker, Marren Sunora or Adele at Sunora Castle. There were reasons not to, for each of them. The Lakker family would not approve someone outside of the family holding the disc. If Tara had it, they may attack her to steal it. He did not know Marren well enough to know whether her loyalty to her daughters would cause her to plot against Lakker to promote the Sunora family as the dominant line. The same fears came to mind when he considered Sunora Castle. That left only Sorrel. Lakker had trusted her. Would they tolerate it being in her possession? Would they even let her continue to live? Sadly, York realized he had to keep the disc until firmly established and had a strong enough relationship to allow them to choose a mutually acceptable holder. When he met with the senior mother of the castle, he would discuss the matter. Perhaps together they could find a way to protect the castle.

Although satisfied he had a plan of action established in his mind to deal with this problem, York still shook. Never had he been as careless as he now was acting, with thoughts of love and butterflies dominating his thoughts. He was not thinking clearly. If he did not soon find his brain and activate it, he would be doomed to fail. The worst part was that his failure would take the whole castle down with him. York had learned another cold fact; love was expensive, unforgiving, and demanding. Love carried a very heavy weight of responsibility.

York headed back to Isa’s room. He stopped in the doorway realizing he had been careless again! Isa should already be awake. Deep in her heart, she may love him, but she hated him for being a man. Clearly, the hatred dominated the love. She would want to kill him, and he had left her door open. “I am a fool! At this rate, I will not be likely to see the sunrise! Slow down. Get a grip on reality,” reprimanded York.

York took a deep breath. Isa had not moved. He tried to think. He needed to put his emotions aside. Think of life as an assignment, he told himself. What is my rational next step? Lock the door. Test the voice command works. Go out. Close the door. Until he trusts the castle and his mothers implicitly, keep all the doors locked, and be in total control. Leave the key locked in a safe place. Be constantly on guard. Following his own advice, he returned to Isa.

She looked so peaceful. Not wanting to disturb her, yet needing to know the drug had worn off, and she suffered no ill effects, York gently ran his fingers through her hair. Although she did not move, her eyes opened. Her empty eyes frightened him. He saw no fear, no anger, no love, nothing. She was alive. Her colour, temperature, and pulse were normal. She simply was not there. York spoke to her softly. He rubbed her hands and arms. He kissed her forehead. Finally in desperation he yelled, “Isa, wake up. Come back!”

Then, York sat on the bed, pulled her into his arms, and wept. Her muscles were not relaxed. They did not fall normally as they would have if she had been unconscious. The drug was still in effect. It should have run its course by now. Well trained, York knew enough to understand something had gone wrong that he could not correct alone. He needed Sarah. Wrapping her up in her comforter, York carried Isa to the examining room next to his office. He laid her upon a table and reluctantly strapped her onto it. After locating Sarah, he summoned her, unlocking, and locking doors as she came to them.

When Sarah arrived at the door to the Sire’s Quarters, rather than opening it, she knocked.

“Come in, Sarah,” he called. Again, she knocked. Sighing, York rose from the bedside and went to the door. He forced himself to look through the window to ensure Sarah was unarmed. She stood back from the door, waiting patiently. York opened his door. “Please, Sarah. Isa needs your help. Come in, please. I will cause you no harm.”

“You expect me to believe that? No. I will not enter your quarters. Tell me, what have you done to Isa?”

“I drugged her,” answered York. He told her the name of the drug, the dosage, where he had injected it, and the time he administered it. York spoke without emotion. He gave her only facts. Sarah hated him. What he had done repulsed her.

“What is it you want me to do?” asked Sarah.

“Help me revive her, please,” answered York.

“Why? You would only hurt her again. No. I will not help you. I am sorry I ever laid eyes on you. I should have killed you when you burnt yourself on our doorstep. No one would ever have known. Temperature storms are expected to kill,” furiously condemned Sarah.

“Do not do it for me, Sarah. Isa is in shock. I admit I am to blame. I have not touched her. I meant her no harm. I love her, Sarah. Help her. She needs your help.”

“No.”

“Sarah, if you cannot treat her here, I will take her to the infirmary.”

“No. You have touched her. She is poisoned. We will kill her, and we will kill you. You do not belong here. You are not welcome. You and all you touch will die.” Turning away, Sarah walked down the hall. York let her go. He had no other choice.

As he closed his door, tears rolled down his cheeks. From his office, he watched as Sarah walked back to her room. Doubting she realized he had locked the doors, he unlocked them as she reached them. He still needed help. He contacted Karen at the Sabastin family dorm. When she replied, following her instructions exactly, York returned to Isa and began rigorous therapy.

He checked and recorded her vital signs and undressed her with shaking, guilty fingers. Her body was scarred, not smooth and soft like Alison’s body. Isa had suffered brutality. The pain she wore in her eyes cried out on her flesh. She bore evidence of being stabbed, slashed, and burned. At that moment, he felt shame at being a man. He could not understand why God allowed such things to happen. Cradling Isa in his arms, York prayed to God for forgiveness. He had hurt Isa. Unsure that he could make amends, he was ashamed. Carrying her to his room, he laid her on the floor, closed his door, and folded back the sleeping platform to reveal an equally large tub. After undressing, he ran the water, hot like he liked it. Gathering Isa into his arms, he stepped into the water. York sat with Isa across his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. He let the tub fill, speaking constantly to Isa. He turned on the jets. As he sang to her, the hot steaming water splashed over them. The jets continued to swirl the water around them. While he rubbed and massaged this woman, he tried to relax.

When the prescribed ten minutes was up, he carefully lifted Isa over the edge and held her there until he climbed out. He lifted and carried her to the shower. He turned the water on and adjusted the temperature until it was uncomfortably cool but not cold. It was awkward in the shower. There were no walls to support her, so he had to hold her up and turn her to cool her body. He waited for two minutes then turned the water ice cold and stood for a minute. Then he carried her out and laid her on the floor. With a towel, he vigorously rubbed her dry. Hoping she would respond; he tapped and slapped her skin. When she did not, he fetched a salt bar and rubbed her skin until it was pink all over. He took her back into the shower to scrub the salt off with hot water, dried her again, and held her for half an hour. Then he returned to the tub and began all over again.

After three cycles, York was exhausted. His voice was hoarse from his constant singing and talking. He held her close and wept. He did not have the strength to go on. After kissing her forehead, he took her to his bed. He set her down and climbed in beside her, pulling the comforter over them both. York held her securely in his arms and fell asleep.

Perhaps an hour later, he awoke. Isa had moved. He remained silent. Isa’s head lay on his chest, her arm was around his shoulder, and she began to cry. Slowly, York brought his free arm to her back and softly rubbed and patted her back. Isa’s body suddenly shivered, and York tightened his grip. “It is all right, everything is going to be all right,” he whispered in her ear.

Lifting her head, Isa looked at York.

He smiled and said, “I love you, Isa. Welcome back.”

Isa’s eyes spoke of only confusion. She laid her head back down on his shoulder and fell asleep. She slept perhaps another hour. When she awoke, she rolled away from York, sat up, and looked at him. For some time, she just stared. Then quite unexpectedly, Isa said, “York, would you please turn out the light?”

York burst out laughing. Very nervously, she smiled. York said, “Certainly, Isa.”

He did as she asked and crawled back into his bed. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. “Please, Isa dance with me,” pleaded York.

“My pleasure, Sire,” whispered Isa. They laughed and talked. After exploring each other’s bodies, they mated. Calm at last, they slept soundly.

When they awoke, it was late in the morning. York performed his habitual workout then stepped into the shower. He did not mind Isa silently watching him. When she joined him in the shower, York welcomed her. Isa gently rubbed the salt bar over him, careful not to touch it against his burns. She felt akin to this man, gently drew her fingers over his bruises, trembling while she did so. Somehow, his hurts gave her confidence; letting York touch her scars, she resisted an urge to run away as he kissed them. When their eyes met, Isa did not feel pitied, rather loved, and accepted. The power of her scars had been broken. In Isa’s eyes, York saw hope. A seed of tentative trust had broken open. He would tend to Isa with care to ensure the seed grew and flourished, as it should. York vowed to correct the wrongs done by sires’ past. Not repulsed by the brutality, he would embrace, respect, and overcome it.

Screaming when he turned the water freezing cold, Isa hid out of its spray using York as her shield. When it turned off, she shook the water from her beautiful long hair and smiled up at this man. She did not try to seduce him. Wrapping a towel around herself, she whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

York smiled, picked her up, and carried her back to his bed. Holding her close, he caressed her. Despite him wanting her, Isa pushed him away, “Wait York. Wait until I am ripe.” She pushed him from his bed and wrapped herself in his comforter. She smiled. Realizing she was a powerful lady, he dressed. He lifted her, took her to the locker room, and set her down. As she unwrapped herself and chose a dress, York watched. Without self-consciousness, she dressed before him making no effort to be modest. If her eyes had allowed it, he would have torn the dress off and taken advantage of her presence.

Together, they knocked at Alison’s door. Immediately she answered, “Come in.”

York opened the door. Alison was dressed, ready to go, and had been crying again. Wiping her tears, Alison said, “Hi, Isa and Sire. I am sorry. I have been lonely and frightened. The intercom is not working. I did not know what to do.”

“We are in for some hard times, Alison. Come, I will open the sire’s hall to the kitchen. You and Isa can make us some breakfast and begin to stock our kitchen. Lakker has threatened to kill you, as well as me. I will talk to the castle while you do as I have asked. You will be safe. Call me when breakfast is ready.”

Taking Alison’s hand, Isa looked over her carefully. Alison blushed. Then they gave one another a hug and giggled. Happily chatting, they went down the corridor, waited for the door to click unlocked, and then proceeded to the kitchen.

York went to the console. Contacting Tara Lecyan, he begged her to fetch Sorrel and hide her far from her apartment. He advised Sunora to post additional guards around the clock. “Leave no one to guard alone and be alert,” he typed. “Yes, Lakker is secure but are seeking revenge and bitterly angry,” answered York when Sunora queried him.

That done, York walked out into the Great Hall, down the hallway, and stood before the door which led to the sleeping quarters of two hundred six, frightened, angry, and hungry women. This was his chance to disarm them and he stood before the door and worshipped. York asked nothing of God. He stood and waited, intent on clearing his mind of his own thoughts and desires until it was empty and open to listen to the will of God.

It was not long before York took a deep breath, lowered his arms, and opened his eyes. He quietly ordered the security system to unlock the door. Opening it, he stepped inside. With a loud bang, the door shut. York jumped. Immediately, yells for help and sounds of desperate banging against doors filled the hall. York waited until the sound gradually faded away to whimpers, then silence.

He walked down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the hollow emptiness of the castle. When he reached the end, he turned and headed back. He heard moans of defeat from the rooms as they concluded he was going to leave. However, York did not open the door. Now he had their attention. They knew the Sire who had gained their castle was outside and in control. York began to sing of honour, respect, and love. When his song ended, there was not a sound to hear. York waited a moment in silence then addressed the castle.

“Lakker Castle,” he called, “Let us pray for peace.” Kneeling, York prayed aloud, “Jarrock, bring your blanket of love around us, protect us, and shield us from our enemies. Hold us safe in your arms until this adversity falters and fades away. Make us strong that we may embrace the change that abounds before us and grow proud and unashamed. Lead us, Jarrock.

“Koe Sai Serena, breathe your breath into us. Guide us to see only the will of God, to hear naught save the voice of God, and let our hearts feel the touch of God’s love and issue forth feelings rich with Her love. Let your strength pour through our souls confining our muscles to perform your work, and let your voice enter our mouths and stand guard around our words that we will speak only the words of God.”

York rose to stand tall in the hall. He felt alone. “I shall return now to my quarters. I will address each of you personally through the intercom. If you pledge upon your honour to bring no harm to any soul within or without the castle walls, I shall free you.” Opening the door, York left them muttering behind their doors. The door slammed shut with its characteristic bang. However, he did not go directly to his quarters. He went to the back door to visit Tara.

Standing at the door looking in through the window, York called, “Tara, I am the Sire of Lakker Castle, the pledged Sire of Sunora Castle. Will you permit me to enter in peace?”

“You may enter,” answered Tara.

“Do you give your word, upon your honour, to allow me to converse with you without threat of violence being enacted upon my physical being?” asked York.

“Yes, upon my honour, I pledge my word as my truth I shall bear no arms against you. May I trust that you harbour no ill toward me?” asked Tara.

“I shall meet you on open ground, I harbour no ill will,” answered York. He then unlocked and opened the door.

Tara sat at the desk with a blanket pulled around her. She looked tired and cold. She demanded, “Why am I locked in my own castle?”

“I fear for the lives of my mothers and myself,” answered York.

“Your mothers?” questioned Tara.

“Yes, I have earned the right to call myself Sire.”

“Indeed. And who have you serviced?”

“I have had the pleasure of dancing with Alison and Isa.”

Tara went very pale. She was horrified. “How dare you rape a child? Alison is little more than a baby. How could you rob her of her youth and innocence? You evil, sinful man,” cried Tara shaking with anger. “Oh, my baby!” wept Tara. “What have you done to her?”

“She is making our breakfast. Alison is fine. I love her, Tara. It is beyond my power to hurt her,” calmly responded York.

“Let me see her. I must see her.”

“In time, Tara, when I know the castle will bring her no harm.”

“Oh,” wept Tara, “they will kill her. Oh, how I hate you.”

Tara collapsed in her chair. Instinctively, York put his arms around her. She whirled around and stood before him. Without a thought or hesitation, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face, and then again, she went very pale. Between tears she cried, “My word, I gave you my word.” She choked back her tears. “Forgive me,” she cried and knelt at his feet.

His face still stinging, York pulled her to her feet. Putting his arms on her shoulders, he said, “I forgive you. Calm down. Everything will be all right. I give you my word.”

Tara stared at him, and then began to pound his chest with her fists. She made no effort to reach for the bow sitting beside her. Each blow York felt he deserved and took without flinching. Without fearing his life, he held her far enough away that she caused little damage except emotionally. Eventually, Tara vented her anger and wept openly, allowing him to hold her in his arms.

When she regained enough composure to speak, Tara asked, “Oh why could not you have let us be?”

“I love Lakker too much to stand by and watch her die,” answered York honestly.

A shudder ran through Tara, and she backed away from York. York let her go.

“Alison is ripe, but she is barely fourteen. She is too young. You cannot be counting on her to produce a child. Isa, she is not even ripe. You must have violated her. She would not accept a sire.” In shock, Tara mumbled, “Not Isa, never… Poor Isa, how could you choose the most hurt among us? She will need Sarah’s help. You must…”

“Tara, Isa is fine. She danced of her own free will. Sarah refused to help her. She pledged to kill Isa before I touched her, knowing I had not done so. Isa danced with me, I fear, to stay alive. She decided to choose life. I promise you I have not hurt her,” reassured York.

Tara gave York a strange look. She had difficulty believing him, however, there was nothing suggesting he lied or omitted any truth. She shook her head. “You still have no right to claim the name of Sire,” she blurted.

“Oh, but I do, Tara. In my possession are signed certificates of six mothers of Lakker, who have pledged themselves to me. There are thirtysix registered mothers in Lakker Castle. To claim the name of Sire, I need only four pledges. I now have eight. Would you care to join with me?”

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“Yes.”

“No. The castle will need me here. I will stay by my daughters,” Tara answered. Afraid, she reached for the bow beside her desk and lifted it. Her hands were shaking, but her face showed her resolve.

“Put that down, Tara. I respect your decision. You do not need a weapon. I will send Isa to replace you. She is weak and tired. You will need to find a guard willing to stand and protect the castle. I will give you an hour.”

Lowering her bow, Tara resumed her duties. “Go,” she said, “I too am tired. Fetch Isa. Then I will know if your word is to be trusted.”

“You will not harm her?”

“Not while you hold my daughter.”

“I will send Isa soon,” promised York then returned to the Sire’s Quarters.

He went directly to his office and retrieved the names of the women who had pledged themselves to accept him as their Sire without even knowing his name. Their names were Cassey, Lorraine, Cheryl, Melenie, Saffa, and Erin. As he was about to lift the intercom, Alison appeared at the doorway and called him to breakfast. Releasing his hold on the intercom, he happily took Alison’s arm, and returned with her to the kitchen.

Having prepared a mountain of food, Isa and Alison sat beside him at the table then passed the bowls around. They took his cue to eat in silence. When they finished eating, he took their hands and sang. Thus began a new tradition in the Sire’s Quarters of Lakker Castle. At the end of his song, he asked Isa and Alison to tell him about each of the women who promised themselves to him.

Melenie, the eldest, was forty-four. She had born a son for her first Sire when she was eighteen. She had been serviced again twice annually from the time she was twenty-three to twenty-nine by the previous Sire. She bore a daughter at twenty-four. The child died at age four. A second daughter was born when she was thirty-one but did not survive to see her first birthday. Melenie had suffered through seven miscarriages. She was a strong woman.

Lorraine was forty-three. She had given birth to Cassey when she was fifteen. She never bore another child. Cassey was twenty-eight and had had a single child, the last-born to the castle, a girl named Kion, when she was only thirteen. Cassey received service only once and spent most of her pregnancy without a sire in the castle. Lorraine received service three times by the father of Cassey and repeatedly by the previous Sire. She, like Isa, had suffered atrocities at his hand.

Cheryl was thirty-five. She had a son by each of the last two Sires, one when she was sixteen and the other at twenty-one.

Both Saffa and Erin were twenty-nine. They each had a child at fourteen. Saffa’s daughter was Alison’s friend, Francy. Erin had had a son who died at ten.

York thanked them and sent Isa to relieve Tara. He asked her to keep Tara with her until breakfast. Alison would clear away their dishes then prepare breakfasts for Tara, and the pledged women, then return to York’s office to help him. When they entered the kitchen, he would not let her be present to eliminate possible trouble. Now, he would return to the office and summon his promised mothers.

Opening the intercom to their rooms, he gave them a simple message, “You will each proceed to the Sire’s Quarters through the Great Hall as I call your name. I believe you each know the name Marren Sunora. I want you to validate some certificates attained on my behalf. Please do not come armed. You have five minutes to dress accordingly. Thank you.” York did not give them the opportunity to reply. Checking their status, he found only Cheryl and Saffa would be unable to dance. The rest were ripe.

York unlocked their doors in exactly five minutes. The woman gathered outside their rooms and headed to the Great Hall but found that door locked. York called Cheryl. Cautiously stepping forward, she pulled on the door. It opened and Cheryl was soon standing before the door of the Sire’s Quarters. She wore a standard mother’s brown dress.

“Are you armed?” asked York.

“No,” Cheryl answered nervously.

Stepping out of his quarters, York bowed before her. He held out a brown paper envelope and waited while she opened it. “Is it authentic?”

“It is, Sire,” she answered.

“For your protection, Cheryl, I ask that you enter my quarters. I shall respect your condition and dance with you when you ripen.”

“I understand. Thank-you, Sire.”

Cheryl followed behind him. She shook with nervousness but honoured her word. Taking her directly to a room, York kissed her forehead and watched her enter. He then closed the door behind her saying breakfast would be brought to her soon.

York repeated the same process with Saffa. It went as smoothly except Saffa blushed, faltered over her words, and cried when York closed her in her new room. Then, he returned to his office to lock the doors to Saffa and Cheryl’s rooms.

He summoned Melenie next. When she acknowledged the certificate, she stiffened and held her breath, not sure what to expect. York asked her a simple question, “Melenie, for your protection and that of the castle, I require you to join me in my quarters. You have two choices. You may dance now, or you may acknowledge penetration. We shall consecrate our union later. Which do you prefer?”

Melenie blushed. She was not dressed to dance. Although she recognized she had to submit to this man, she did not want to dance. “I acknowledge penetration,” she said very slowly. Holding her hand, York led her inside.

He took her to the locker room and waited to watch her undress. She removed her shoes then fell to the floor crying. “Please,” she begged, “my body is not fit to witness. Please do not watch. We can mate in the dark.”

He stepped closer and began to undo her dress. Untying the braiding on her arms, he pulled the panels free. He let his fingers touch her skin, and said, “I see nothing here of which you should be ashamed.” Skilfully loosening the braid at her waist, he unwound the straps causing the front to hang loose. Reaching behind the front of her dress, he caressed her body upward until his fingers reached and undid the clasps on her shoulders. As he moved his hands back down toward her breasts, he brought the straps with him until they fell. Melenie gasped as his cold fingers ran over her bare skin. She was afraid to move away. His fingers lingered on her scars, and she cried. York spoke quietly, “You wear the pain of a cruel man, Melenie, but it is not to be shamed. It is a tribute to your strength and perseverance. It does not repulse me; you can see what you have done to me!”

Melenie looked, turned very red, and then, she laughed.

“May I?” York asked as he lifted her dress over her head. He walked around her, touching her with no more than the tips of his fingers and said, “Melenie, I approve. You are a beautiful woman. I am indeed fortunate to have you in my life.” Backing away, he nodded to the rack of blue dresses. Quickly choosing one, she put it on. York held her close and kissed her cheek. Taking her hand in his, he led her to a room, and after kissing her again, closed the door.

He went to an examining room and washed his face in cold water. Feeling overwhelmed, he worried about having to meet three more women. This was a difficult job. He did not know if he could contain himself. Sadly, he concluded it would be easiest to simply lock them in a room and not say a word. Nevertheless, he could not because he needed their support and help to maintain the castle. He would have to exhibit more control over his emotions. Summoning Lorraine, York took a deep breath. Lorraine struck him as a strong woman. Just as Melenie had, she chose not to dance. However, when he took her to the locker room, she undressed with dignity and silently put on a blue dress. A tear formed in York’s eyes as he led her to a room.

Noticing immediately, she put her arms around him. “It is all right, Sire. Weep not for me. When you sang for us, you taught me to be unashamed. It is fitting to be here with you. Take your time. I will wait. Bring the others in. We are not afraid.” She cradled his head in her arms and kissed him. York held her close then kissed her forehead. She stepped into the room pulling the door closed behind her.

He summoned Erin, and she chose to dance. “Please, may I change?” she asked. As she ran back down the Great Hall, York laughed. Before Erin closed the door, she spoke to Cassey who, after a moment, stepped out into the hall and yelled out to York, “Please, Sire, I wish to change as well.” With a giggle, she disappeared. York returned to his quarters and called Alison to assist bringing breakfasts. Then he asked her to go to her room and rest. Sadly, Alison obeyed. Calling Isa, he had her send Tara to the kitchen. He watched the dot move on the floor plan on his screen and locked the door when she entered the kitchen.

Fetching his sword, York prepared to dance. He stepped out into the Great Hall and began to walk toward the front door. Singing, he waited before the dormitory door. It was not long before he heard the giggles of two women as they met outside their rooms. They stepped out into the hall and walked over to York. Like Alison, they were mischievous. They had schemed together behind those doors. “Please Ladies; let me dance with one of you at a time.”

“No,” they giggled. “Dance with us, Sire!” They darted away from him, swirled, and turned to woo him. Cassey wore yellow ribbons, while bright greens and purples decorated Erin’s dress. They toyed with York mercilessly. Enjoying every moment of their dances, they exhibited no malice toward the other. Each trying to outdo the other, they swirled away just before York could catch them. It was a rigorous dance and eventually, in exhaustion, they both chose to come awfully close, turning around him in ever decreasing circles until he felt their breath on his cheek.

Reaching around their waists, York simultaneously unlatched their stingers. “Oh, how I would like to be in two places at once,” lamented York. “Cassey, Erin, how am I to choose who to touch first? You feel together as though one,” he said and with an audible sigh, stepped behind Erin. Deftly he reached into her stinger, brought out the cloth, and washed himself. Taking the second cloth, he knelt and washed Erin. He let his fingers linger and Erin responded as God created her body to respond. Lifting her, York pulled her back against him. Slowly, he let her lower upon his penis. York gasped in delight as he slid smoothly into her. She sucked her muscles tightly around him and with reluctance York whispered, “Please, Erin, do you acknowledge penetration?”

She answered, “Oh, yes, Sire. With pleasure I do acknowledge!”

Regretfully pulling away, York whispered into her ear, “Until later then, Erin. Thank you.”

York stood for a moment taking deep breaths, and then turned to Cassey. On the Land of the Butterflies, he was not acting immorally to have danced with more than one woman at a time. It was his duty to dance and to dance at their request. He could choose one out of many, capture her, and cease dancing to take her to his quarters while leaving the rest to wait for another time. Ordinarily, this was an uncommon scenario. It was the custom for the Sires to penetrate, thus demonstrating their union, then to back away to dance with another. His woman claimed, he would unclasp her stinger, set it in her arms, stand her to the side of the hall, and dance with another. He would continue until he captured them all or was too exhausted to continue. Expected to exercise strong control over his emotions and share himself fairly with the members of the castle, he had a vital job. It was his mission to service them to their satisfaction, performing on demand to promote the atmosphere needed for them to conceive and successfully bear young. If not satisfied with her service, a woman would not conceive. There was much more than biology involved. The correct state of mind was the most critical factor.

York washed himself again as he knelt behind Cassey. He took extra care to ensure he was clean. The cloths were soaked in a mild but powerful disinfectant. Used correctly, there would be minimal risk of spreading disease from one to another. Sexually transmitted diseases simply did not exist on the planet. When he arrived at a castle, a sire was, by law, inexperienced. The castle was a single unit. When a sire left, they practiced quarantine and cleansing rituals before permitting the castle to entertain the acceptance of a new sire into their lives. Invited for their sexual pleasure, the Sire was their toy. As long as he did not ejaculate, they would hold him in their power. Once serviced, the Sire gained the upper hand, mated with a single objective, and had the right to expect her to conceive. Here in, lay the dangers of a sire. If a woman failed to conceive, she risked his anger and frustration. Sometimes a sire became cruel because of a woman’s lack of satisfaction with his lovemaking, and sex became a bane wielded to hurt.

Free to service her, York confidently washed Cassey. He had all the time he wanted. Erin was satisfied that he would perform for her and all his attention could be focused on Cassey. Gently washing her, he did not hurry to prepare her for penetration. He let his hands explore her flesh as far as the panels of her gown would allow. Cassey’s muscles reacted to his touch, and it was not long before she whispered, “Please, Sire, tease me no more.”

He lifted her and set her upon his organ. He gently thrust until he felt himself slide into her vagina. She welcomed him, and he reached his arms down her back to her shoulders, rocked her away from where she rested against her stinger, and held her against him. He kissed the back of her neck. With immense pleasure, York consecrated his union with Cassey.

When he was done, he rocked her gently in his arms before thanking and releasing her. He undid the remaining clasp of her stinger, helped her to her feet, and set the stinger in her arms. He kissed her forehead then led her to where Erin stood waiting. Together they headed to the Sire’s Quarters. They walked in silence as they each were savouring the last few minutes and dreaming of days to come. When they reached the door, York broke the silence.

“May I assume you are friends?”

“Yes. We are inseparable,” and they laughed.

“I will let you change and fetch you some food. He led them to the locker room, set the stingers on the floor next to Alison’s, and told them to choose a dress. “Please change,” he said. “You can bring your dresses back and hang them up later.” Without making it difficult, they soon were ready to go to their rooms. Asking them to hurry because he needed them to help in the kitchen, York kissed them as he sent them into their rooms.

While they changed, York contacted Tara and asked her to return to her room. She gladly did so. York carefully checked the locks throughout the castle to ensure all was well before he knocked on Cheryl’s door.

“Come in,” she answered.

York opened the door and said, “Cheryl would you please relieve Isa at the front door?”

“I would be happy too, Sire.” Cheryl walked past York, thankful to be doing something.

When she returned, Isa refused to go to bed. She organised the others to prepare meals for the rest of the castle. They delivered them to the twoway cupboards in each dormitory room. York unlocked all the outer doors. The mothers put in a tray of food then closed the door. When York saw the door securely closed on the screen, he unlocked the inner door and offered the meal to the woman trapped in her room. It worked well.

York spent most of the remaining day in his office talking to each member of the castle. He offered them freedom to return to their regular schedules if they would write a declaration acknowledging his rightful presence in the castle and give their word not to harm his mothers or jeopardise the safety of the castle. Until he had at least half of the declarations, he would leave them were they were and let them starve.

His plan was working well. He had declarations from many of the younger members of the castle. By early evening, he released them to eat in the kitchen, en masse. They brought their dishes with them. He allowed them to have free access to the parts of the castle they used regularly, except the Great Hall and back door.

Isa had arranged several short shifts of guard duty for the older members in the Sire’s Quarters before going to her room. York gave Isa the recognition as the senior mother in his quarters. Age did not govern such honour. Isa was only thirty-eight. Rather, a woman who exhibited excellent leadership and organisational skills would receive the duty. He kissed her goodnight telling her that he had returned her security clearance to her. Isa could lock and unlock doors at her pleasure and was thereby free to carry out the requirements of her duties without having to come to York every time she needed a door locked or unlocked. The only place he would keep her out of was the castle dorms.

York locked his family safely into their rooms. Then he knocked softly on Alison’s door and led her to his room. Life was good. In addition, York was gaining confidence in his ability to build a relationship with Lakker Castle that would at least be stable.