Marie, apprentice ambassador to the Doramin Empire.

You look out the window of the embassy, over the bay of Dorafar. On the eastern horizon, the setting sun blazes red, leaving what looks like a trail of crimson light back towards the Amazon Isles.

As you gaze back over the waves towards your home, you feel equal parts excited, terrified, and homesick. You’re barely eighteen years old, only just a couple of years an adult, and this is your first time leaving Lesbos.

Which, of course, is why you've been sent here. Dorafar sits at the mouth of the Akaiwa River, the central artery of the western lands, and as such it is the chief port of the Doramin Empire. Vast amounts of trade pass through this port each day, and as possibly the greatest naval power in the Central Sea the Amazons carry a disproportionate amount of that trade. Enough Amazon merchants and sailors call at Dorafar every single day that you have your own district on the docks. All of which means that not only have the Council of Elders have assigned an ambassador to liase with Dorafar's governor and handle any legal issues that arise, they've given her a support staff. You'll have a chance to learn under an experienced professional before you have to do anything challenging on your own.

You shake out of your trance and turn to look yourself over in the mirror. You will be introduced to the nobility of Dorafar at the feast tonight, and you'll never get a second chance to make a first impression. You have blonde hair and wide, pale blue eyes, and your skin is a pale white. The drape of your robes highlights your ample bosom, while the sash at your waist does the same for the curve of your hips.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest at the prospect of tonight's meeting. Perhaps because you've barely seen a man in your life, stories and thoughts of them have exercised a heady fascination for you since as far back as you can remember. You have covertly sought out and read the handful of accounts in the histories of Amazon women falling victim to the Binding, and more than once on the voyage here you have masturbated to secret fantasies of pirates attacking and overrunning the convoy, dragging you away to be and bred, Ama's blessing inverting into the curse of the Binding...

You are jarred out of your trance by the chime of bells striking the quarter-hour, and are embarrassed to realize that your slit has grown moist with the direction of your thoughts.