GENERAL DETH never knew what he would see when he walked into what Lady Necralia called her playroom, and this time was no exception. The screams could be heard long before he approached the door and the two Death Guard stepped aside to allow him to pass.

One of Lady Necralia's slaves cowered against the wall, naked and vainly struggling against her chains in an attempt to get away from her master's whip. The bloody lines running down her back, limbs, and breasts showed the futility of her efforts.

Lady Necralia herself stood in front of her slave, naked with blood dripping down her own breasts. She wielded a hooked whip with obvious pleasure as she lashed it across the slave's body.

Deth felt somewhat disappointed at the scene before him. He had hoped she would have a more interesting torment for him to see.

Lady Necralia paused to look at Deth. "I assume you have important news. You know interfering with my hobbies could put you in my slave's place in her stead."

Deth glanced at the sobbing nude woman. Having been on the receiving end of the lady's agonies, he knew this was no idle threat. "Of course, your majesty. My apologies. But I thought you should know this at once.

Necralia sighed. "Very well."

She tapped a button on her bracelet. The chains fell away from the slave who stood frozen for a moment, as if unable to grasp the concept of freedom.

Necralia reached out a hand to stroke the slave's chin. "You have pleased me well and earned your freedom. Go and be at peace."

Tears flowed down the slave's face as she dropped to her knees and bowed. "Th-thank you, your majesty."

The slave stumbled to her feet and began to limp out of the playroom.

Necralia drew a sword from its place on the wall and hurled it at the slave. The blade punched through the woman's skull.

As the slave collapsed, Necralia sighed. "There, now, what is the news, General Deth?"

Necralia walked barefoot over to a bathtub against the wall as Deth said, "My lord, we have news on the lost shipment of slaves."

Necralia sank into the bubbling waters with a sigh. "Ah, has the delivery been completed?"

"No, your highness. In fact, the freighter has been lost. And the squadron destroyed."

Necralia fixed her cold white eyes on Deth. She didn't move, leaving him to cower in her gaze until she whispered, "How?"

Deth looked down at his tablet to avoid her glare. "I-It makes no sense, my lady. The flight recorders show a single ship destroyed all three Death Wing fighters with level three weapons. I'm assuming there's an error in the recording, but we have yet to find it."

Necralia settled back and her breasts bobbed gently in the waters. "A level three."

"Yes, your grace. Our initial analysis has identified the ship as one recently registered, the Icarus. The owner on the recordings is named Byron Jones. But I'm certain there must be someone else working with him, because the Icarus was a class-five frigate. Again, no match for our pilots. There must be more to it."

"Or-" Necralia held up a clawed finger. "The one we were warned about has come."

Deth couldn't hold back a laugh of scorn. "My lady, the story of the Outsider is a fairy tale. Surely--"

She thrust her finger at him. "You will find this Byron Jones. You will take a battleship and you will capture him and you will bring him to me."

"A battleship? Surely that's a bit much for--"

She settled back in the steaming waters. "You have your orders. I want you to carry this out for me personally, general. And if you fail, I will have you chained to that wall and I will peel the flesh from your bones, and bathe in your blood."

Deth bowed to hide his shudder, knowing she never made idle threats. "I will not fail you, your highness."

He hurried out of the room, his mind reeling. The idea of sending an entire battleship with a thousand soldiers and a hundred fighters to track down one man for a single lost shipment of slaves seemed like madness. Yet there was no doubt in his mind that Lady Necralia was mad, and he would rather see her thirst for blood satiated on slaves and this Byron Jones than on himself.

***

When the doors closed behind General Deth, Lady Necralia settled back in her bath. Her fingers slipped down to play with her nipples as she pondered the situation.

Just as the Orb had predicted, a low-level player had defeated her. It was a small victory. She had a vast network of billions of slaves spanning a hundred worlds, and one lost shipment was almost infinitesimal but the symbolism was unbearable.

Of course, she faced losses all the time. As one of the most powerful enemies in the Galaxy, every so-called hero wanted to fight against her empire. She could handle a level fifty foiling her plans, even a level ten. But a three? It was impossible. If news of the loss got out, it would weaken her reputation. There could be only one explanation.

Her hands moved down her belly and began to rub between her thighs as she called out, "Bring me the Orb."

The lights dimmed. A low rumble shook the walls and floor, causing the water in her bath to ripple. A light flickered in the center of the room that grew until it formed a glowing white ball in the middle of her playroom.

The Orb spoke with a deep voice. "Why do you disturb me, Lady Necralia?"

Under the water, her fingers toyed with her pussy lips as she called out, "It seems your prediction was correct. One has appeared who is far stronger than he should be."

"Of course I was correct," the Orb rumbled. "I know everything about the game. I know the future. Is it Byron Jones?"

Her body froze a moment before she could speak again. "Yes. How did--"

The Orb growled. "It's happening as I have seen it. But we will stop it this time. You will kill this Byron Jones. You will not fail."

Necralia's fingers quickened on her clit. "Yes, Master. I will give him such pain that the gods themselves will pity him."

The Orb disappeared in a flash.

As Lady Necralia thought of Byron Jones' blood dripping from her naked body, she cried out in orgasm.