Wesley grinned broadly as he shut the door to his hotel room, not believing his luck at finding such a willing little plaything for the evening. He was fluffing the pillows when he heard the unmistakable hiss of silk hitting the floor, bringing his attention back to the farmer's daughter he had brought with him. His eyes widened to see every inch of her flesh exposed. Usually they're so shy I almost have to hold them down for this. What luck that I've found such a nice little toy. Her body was against his, hands stroking the flesh he exposed as he stripped quickly. Whimpers escaped the girl's lips as he became rougher and rougher with his caresses. Then came the playful nips that quickly turned to bites on his lips. Moans escaped his lips as she shoved him back on the bed and he was pleased that she wanted to play rough.

A moon high in the sky shone into his window at the inn, sweat glistening in the pale light. Her hair was silky under his hands as he stroked her head softly. He murmured softly into her hair, hoping to calm her. Wait, she's not trembling. She actually enjoyed that. This little flower is worth keeping around. As he noticed the drops of blood on the silk of the sheets, he grinned triumphantly.

To his surprise, she was up again, starting to pull one of his robes around her slender form. "I'm hungry, dear; I'll be right back up."

He was cut off from dissuading her when one of Beverley's entourage entered the room, bringing the couple some drinks and Wesley a little pick-me up. Much to the young Cynis's surprise, he found soft, silky arms entwining around his neck.

"Oh, you should come in, bring some friends. I've worn poor Wesley right out."

Not a minute went by until the room was full of the Cynis entourage, with little Zoila in the middle of it. Her head was full of all kinds of powders, liquids, and smoke from what they had offered her. She couldn't believe how sensitive her skin was becoming as all the men and women touched her, fondled her, loved her. Oh, this should never end. I want to leave this place and be with these people always. Ooooh, how good this all feels.

Wesley was holding his little farm girl from behind as she happily pleased the man standing in front of her, with no thought of how she was acting. A vague memory of the innkeeper coming in and dropping a tray of food, a look of horror in his eyes, hung somewhere in her mind, but the waves of pleasure made it hard to focus. She whimpered as someone stuck a needle into her, then felt herself relax as a cool liquid crept into her veins, dulling her mind and ensnaring her in a world of nothing but sense.

As she crawled to the arms of two women beckoning her to come let them pleasure her, she looked up at the door that was swinging open. She smiled lazily at the door. "Come in, Olen, darling. When I'm done with Beverly and her friend, you can take me next," Her next invitation was cut off by a moan as Beverly pushed her down and began to show her exactly why some women chose only women as lovers. She couldn't see the look of excitement and terror mixing in Olen's eyes. Her head tilted back and another moan escaped her lips as he shut the door and pounded down the steps.

The Sun looked in on his wayward daughter three times before she had spent her lusts for all the things she was offered. The third time He came to look in at His daughter, her eyelids were just beginning to flutter. He pulled a cloud over his eyes, not wanting to remember the things He had watched them do to her, unable to bear the thought of the pain these children of the earth were going to cause His beloved daughter.

Green eyes fluttered open and her body rolled over, an arm reached out to grab a pillow. Eyes shot opened as brain realized body was on a hard wooden floor and arm was resting on warm flesh. She sat up, then slumped over as the drugs in her body fought any motion she made. Her mind frantically, slowly worked as she tried to drag herself back to where the circle lived.

Hands and knees.

Crawling past boys, over girls.

Must get home, must get to safe…place?

Olen…

Innkeeper…knows.

Down the steps, slow…slow.

So foggy, so hard to do.

Grass, sweet grass…can't lie down, must move.

Everyone looking, dress muddy?

Is my hair…makeup all right?

What…did I do?

Dirt roads, skinned knees, dust in face.

Coughing.

Door, safety…can't move.

Jeeves was quietly drinking his morning tea, happy that the house was quiet as three of his five charges slept soundly. His calm demeanor belied the thoughts drifting through his head. Oh, I am worried about Miss Zoila, she's been gone for three days, and from what Olen said, she may be in trouble. As he peered into his tea cup as if looking for an answer in the leaves floating near the bottom, he heard a soft scratching at the door.

She could feel something lift her, could see Jeeves's face. She groaned softly, every muscle in her body sore from her exertions, her body screaming at the punishment she put into it. Grayness slipped over her as she was carried up to her bedroom. Whimpers escaped her lips as the Sun shone His brilliance onto her face. The lights became dimmer, though she couldn't figure out how. At least He still loves me, He stopped it from hurting. No…not right…something… But as fast as each thought formed, it slipped out of her brain as something else caught into her mind.

"Miss Zoila, you're very sick right now. Your body has to get rid of all the drugs. I'm here, though. You will be all right," soothed the Circle's butler.

"Not…not all right," she groaned before turning and emptying the contents of her stomach into a bucket Jeeves had provided.

The next few days, the Sun found His daughter of His hidden face trembling in a sweat and so sick He was sure she could not know what happened. The day her body finalized its purge of the drugs, He shone a little more brightly in joy that one of His daughters was well again. Zoila, though, did not share in His joy.

That morning found her sleeping after the Sun had risen to almost its Zenith. A groan escaped dried, cracking lips as she lifted her head off the pillow. She blinked once, twice, and then realized that she was safe in her bed. Perhaps everything she remembered having happened had all been a horrible nightmare.

Olen strode into her room, looking cheery. A tray of fruit and cheese sat in his hand, and a smile sat on his face as he put the tray over Zoila's lap. A smile graced her face, but faded quickly as she saw the hardened look in his eye.

"Here's breakfast for the town's new favorite whore."

Tears formed in her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing, unable to understand why he would continue to say such hurtful things.

"I mean, no one is going to want you know that you've given yourself up to…how many people was it again? A dozen? More? I know I party a lot, but, wow, I can't even begin to imagine that level of slut. Enjoy breakfast."

She just stared at his back as he left; a small squeaking noise came out of her throat as she tried to explain herself to a shutting door. Waves of nausea broke over her as she stumbled to the bathroom; her head still feeling as though it was full of cotton. Her body wracked itself with sobs and heaves as the thought of herself made her too ill to eat.

When her body ceased its attempts to purge the memory of her disgrace, she drew herself a bath that had billows of steam rising from the surface. She lowered her body in, gritting her teeth against the burns without stopping to ease herself in. Then she scrubbed. She scrubbed all the guilt and filth that was her off her skin until she felt clean. Tears ran down her face as she thought of all the things she lost, of the boy, the man, that she had just made hate her. Maybe I am anathema.

Zoila didn't see the way Olen turned to leave her room. Tears clouded her eyes and hid the confused look on his face as he turned to leave. Sobs hid the uneven sound of his steps as he drifted downstairs. He slumped into a chair outside, staring blankly at the yard. Why did she look so upset? She…wasn't supposed to cry. I…that…that wasn't supposed to happen. Eyelids slid shut as he reflected on how vulnerable she had been curled up on her bed. She looked like a child who wanted their mother, and I just made her hate me. It's probably my fault she did that, after all the partying I do. She must've wanted to fit in with the rest of us. Oh gods, this is all my fault.

All Zoila could feel was pain. Her skin was on fire from the mild burns and abrasive torture she had put herself through to become clean again. There was an ache throughout her body where Olen's words had ripped through her. She curled up in a tight ball, pulling covers over her entire body to hide herself and her shame from the world.