Every one of the ten mastering chambers had slits cut in the door, so that the discipline and fucking inside could be observed, whether for training purposes or for supervision. They had all been occupied that morning, and there had been mastering going on in the girls’ hall itself, over the divans, such as usually only occurred on high festivals.
Now, only one chamber was occupied, from the sound of it. Qual checked the chambering register that sat on its pedestal by the entry to the little corridor off which the mastering chambers opened. Sir Loke had borrowed Altin from Sir Gentan, it appeared. The noises coming from the third chamber seemed to indicate that he was punishing her severely, and indeed the register said, in Sir Loke’s cramped handwriting, Altin, fifty lashes for gossiping: Sir Loke for Sir Gentan: other duties. “Other duties” was the way Lord Kesin and Qual had agreed the incident with Hala would be recorded—in truth Sir Gentan had spilled his mastery in the general revel and was thus unavailable to master Altin. Sir Loke, whose appetites were prodigious and his mastery correspondingly copious, had clearly volunteered to give Altin what she merited, with his customary severity.
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