by Sarah Hawke
“She’s soaked already,” he commented with obvious amusement.
“I’m not surprised,” Luriel said, her smile widening. “She knows her place, unlike so many of the others. I’m sure that’s why Gabriel keeps her around. Tell me, girl: what is his favorite way to take you?”
I blinked in confusion and glanced between them. “My lady?”
“It’s a simple question. How does he prefer to fuck you? On your stomach? Your back? Your knees?”
I licked at my suddenly dry lips. “He…enjoys variety.”
“Ah,” Luriel chuckled. “And what about you? What do you enjoy the most?”
“I enjoy whatever pleases Master Kristoff at the moment.”
“Hah!” Arland snorted. “Such careful answers. Gabriel really has trained her well.”
“She could always be telling the truth,” Luriel said. “Her people do seem to gain satisfaction in servitude. Not like groll or minotaur or even orcs. I swear, the overseers have to beat them almost daily to any work out of them.”
“As the priests say, the gods would not have provided us with such beauty if they didn’t intend for us to make the most of it,” Arland said as the tip of his finger slipped inside me. “And you really are beautiful, my dear.”
The duchess tilted her head back towards her husband. “Why don’t you take her now?”
“Here?” he asked. “Before desert?”
She shrugged. “Why not? The servants won’t have the cake ready for a few more minutes. Besides, I can almost feel your cock bursting through your trousers from here.”
“Indeed,” he said, standing and hoisting me to my feet. He placed his hand upon my back and shoved me down onto the table with surprising force, and I felt the swollen bulge of his manhood against my leg as he lifted the long folds of my dress out of the way. Reflexively, I widened my stance to accommodate him, and thanks to the extra height from my heels had no difficulty working himself into position. His cock pressed against my smoldering entrance, and with a single determined thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside me.
A soft, contented moan escaped my lips despite myself, and Lady Luriel chuckled. “Like I said, servitude is in their blood. The Faedari rebels can deny it all they want, but they’re just making their own lives miserable. One of these days they’ll figure that out…and the Vaeyn too, perhaps.”
Arland grunted a response but didn’t reply. He held himself in deep for a few more seconds before gradually pulling back and settling into a slow, surprisingly gentle rhythm. When the initial wave of ecstasy passed and I returned to my senses, I remembered that my purpose in being here was to do more than simply bend over for him; I needed to delve into his mind and convince him to support Master Kristoff in the Quorum. But with his wife watching me so closely, I didn’t dare risk channeling. She wasn’t a mage herself, as far as I knew, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t notice a stray spark of Aether when she saw it. I would have to wait until both of them were occupied…
“Keep those pretty eyes of yours on me, girl,” Luriel commanded as she set down her glass and leaned forward. Cupping my chin in her right hand, she held my head firmly in place as her left reached behind my ear and unfastened my hair clip. My dark locks spilled across the table, and she nodded in approval. “That’s better. Is she tight enough for you, darling?”
“By the Triad,” Arland panted. “Gabriel must hardly use her.”
“Well, then I suppose it’s up to you to break her in. Fuck her harder.”
He didn’t need any more encouragement. Wrapping his hands around my waist, the duke plunged in faster and deeper. The silverware clattered against the table with each of his thrusts, and without looking Luriel casually reached over to grab one of the desert plates before it crashed to the floor. Her eyes remained locked on mine as if she were baiting me to cry out or squeal in discomfort. But I stood my ground, as it were, and Arland continued to groan in pleasure.
“Don’t finish yet,” Luriel chided. The corner of her mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Take her ass first.”
“Already?” he asked breathlessly. “We have all night.”
“I know, but I want to see her squirm.” Her amber eyes glinted as she casually swept the loose strands of hair from my face. “Better she learn her place now while it’s early.”
“I think you’re right,” he managed as he slowly withdrew. His hand pressed more firmly against the small of my back. “I should be slick enough.”
Luriel shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“No,” he said, and I felt the tip of his cock press against my nether entrance. “I suppose not.”
During the many months of my avenari training, Master had done his best to prepare me for every situation he could imagine. I was no stranger to being taken in any position at any time for any duration. And now, as Arland eased his cock back inside me, I was more thankful for that instruction than ever.
“By the Triad,” he breathed again. “So perfect…”
“Then what are you waiting for?” his wife taunted. “Fuck her.”
He did. With his hands locked on my hips, he pounded into my relentlessly, remorselessly, to the point my feet slid out of my shoes beneath the table. Even if his wife hadn’t been watching me so closely, I doubted I would have been able to concentrate hard enough to channel regardless. I was almost thankful for the excuse; it allowed me to submit to the shivers of elation cascading through me.
“You know, they say that your people once ruled over this land many centuries ago,” Luriel remarked as casually if they were still in the middle of dinner. “They wielded powerful magic and controlled an empire that stretched all the way to sea and into Torsia. Can you imagine that? An entire continent filled with elves?”
I did my best to shake my head as husband continued his assault. I knew he was rapidly building towards a climax, and I managed to get a grip on the edge of the tablecloth.
“How does it make you feel knowing that if you had been born in a different era, our positions could have been reversed?” the duchess continued. “Instead here you are bent over our table with my husband’s cock buried in your ass.”
Arland abruptly groaned and clutched more tightly at my hips. “I can’t hold out much longer.”
“That’s all right, darling; I think she’s ready,” Luriel smiled again, but she kept my chin locked firmly in place. “Finish whenever you want.”
He reared his head back barely a fraction of a second later, and with a final cry of triumph I felt the warm rush of his seed flood into my bowels. He slumped atop me, pinning me against the table, and his wife chuckled in amusement.
“He’s much easier to please than I am,” she told me. “But don’t worry: you’ll get your chance soon enough.”
“Definitely,” Arland murmured as he slowly withdrew. “Like I said before, the night is young.”
Chapter Six
The Arlands ate their desert as if nothing had happened, and I once again faded into the background. I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything different; this was exactly how Master had said they would treat me. They carried on with their gossip about the other noble families, and they didn’t seem to care if I overheard their astonishingly mean-spirited criticisms and commentary. They must have assumed that I wouldn’t share what I’d heard with Master Kristoff, or perhaps they didn’t believe I was clever enough to understand the nuances of politics. Or maybe, if Lady Luriel was as shrewd as she was supposed to be, this was all just a show for my benefit designed to feed Master disinformation.
Whatever the true reasons, I warned myself against overthinking it. Later, once I finally had the chance to touch their minds, I would get the truth. For now I just needed to remain patient and keep my wits about me—which, given the euphoric tingles still rippling through me, was more difficult than it seemed.
Eventually, once the Arlands finished their cake and downed several more glasses of wine, Luriel clapped her hands and summoned one of the house ser
vants. A few seconds later, a fifty-something human woman who looked like she’d probably been a fixture of the mansion for decades appeared in the doorway.
“Go ahead and take her to our chambers,” the duchess ordered. “Make certain she’s ready. We’ll be up shortly.”
“Of course, mistress.”
The woman grabbed my leash and dragged me through the mansion and up two separate flights of stairs before stopping inside an elaborate dressing room. Enough mirror lined the walls that I could inspect myself from virtually any angle, and the shelves were stocked with more cosmetics, herbs, and oils than I’d ever seen in one place before. I almost asked how long it had taken the duchess to assemble such a collection, but my new keeper didn’t seem interested in casual conversation…or in being gentle. She gripped tightly on my leash the entire time she touched up my makeup, and then she roughly bent me over one of the chairs before wiping me down with a damp cloth.
Ten minutes later we arrived in the master bedroom, and I couldn’t help but boggle in amazement at the size and scale—not to mention the decorations. The room was easily as large as most of the houses in Stormcrest, and the collection of tapestries, silks, and other artworks was every bit as impressive as the entry foyer downstairs. If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed no one had ever actually slept in this place before. It seemed more like a museum than a bedchamber.
Most of the room did, anyway. The back corner, on the other hand, looked like something straight out of a castle dungeon. A stripped-down torture rack was nestled firmly against the wall, and the adjacent shelves contained a dizzying assortment of restraining devices from collars to leashes to limb cuffs. There was even a pillory set up nearby along with a complete set of chains, scourges, and conventional whips. The entire collection was in pristine condition, as far as I could tell, and I cringed involuntarily as I wondered how often the Arlands used any of the devices upon their own avenari.
“Down,” the handmaiden commanded as she pressed on my shoulders. I sank down to the floor, and she swiveled around behind me and unfastened the straps of my dress. She stripped me naked in record time before tightening the shackles around my wrists and ankles. By the time she was done, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be able to stand back up even if I’d wanted to…which was probably the point.
After tying my leash to one of the bedposts, she set my control rod on the nightstand next to the door and then slipped out of the room. I had no idea how long the Arlands would make me wait, and so I seized the opportunity to close my eyes and refocus. Whatever happened for the rest of the night, I needed to be ready to channel at a moment’s notice. I knew I would get the opportunity to slip into one or both of their minds eventually. And if I didn’t…
Well, then I would need to force the issue without getting caught. Somehow.
I remained in a near trance for what felt like hours before my hosts finally made their way upstairs and shut the door behind them. At first, they didn’t even seem to notice me; they continued their conversation as the duke slipped out of his overcoat and the duchess sank into one of the plush chairs along the wall. But then eventually Arland settled in behind me and ran his fingers through my hair.
“Well, what do you think, darling?” he asked. “Shall I tie her to the rack, or do you wish to take her on the bed.”
“Neither,” Luriel said as she crossed her legs. “She must earn that right first. Send her over.”
The duke grunted as he unfastened my leash from the bedpost and leaned in to my ear. “Good luck, girl. You had best not disappoint her.”
He nudged the small of my back, and I crawled forward towards his wife on my knees. It wasn’t easy or quick, and Luriel smirked in amusement as I struggled the entire way across the floor.
“Good girl,” she praised. “As obedient as a hound without a single lash.”
Arland chuckled as he retrieved one of the scourges from beside the rack. “It’s almost a pity,” he said. “We’ll see if she can keep it up.”
On impulse, I leaned down and kissed the duchess’s foot as it bobbed in the air. It was a risk doing anything without a direct command, I knew, but something in the woman’s eyes told me she appreciated it when her slaves took initiative. I was right.
“She knows her place,” Luriel said approvingly. “She’s even grown to enjoy it. Like I said, the rebels would be so much happier if they simply accepted the truth of their nature.”
I continued nibbling my way up her smooth calves before she finally uncrossed her legs and lifted up her skirt. I leaned forward just enough to be within her reach, and a second later she curled her fingers into my hair and pulled me down to her sex.
She was sweet—far sweeter than any of the other noblewomen the Master had trained me on over the past few months. I couldn’t tell if it was a special oil or herb or just her natural taste, but whatever it was I felt compelled to drink her more deeply. She moaned in delight—the first such sound I had heard her make all evening—and once she was appropriately distracted I knew my opportunity had finally come. Channeling the Aether through me, I reached out and slipped into her mind.
I was careful at first; I merely brushed against her surface thoughts to see how she would respond, and when I felt no resistance I slinked in just far enough to titillate her senses. A spark of pure bliss crackled down her spine, and her thighs abruptly clamped around my head. For a moment I wondered if she might actually choke me; her strong, athletic legs squeezed with the strength of a vise. But eventually she relaxed enough for me to catch my breath…if only just.
“I knew she’d be good,” Arland said from somewhere behind me, his voice laced with amusement. “Now you’re going to want to fuck her too, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” the duchess breathed as she came down from her sudden climax. “Absolutely.”
Her grip on my head tightened, and I delved into the nether folds of both her body and her mind. While her husband’s thoughts had been as straight-forward as his desires, Luriel’s were a veritable maze of schemes and machinations. She had only lived in Sorthaal for five years and already she seemed to have leverage on almost every noble in the Empire from the Grand Dukes all the way down to the regional barons. Outstanding debts, illicit liaisons, bastard children—the web of secrets was so thick it threatened to ensnare and suffocate me just like her thighs. But I managed to navigate the maze well enough to find what I was looking for: the deepest recesses of her mind and the dark, almost sadistic desires that dwelt within.
“Come on, girl, bring me again,” she half-begged, half-ordered as she tugged at my hair. I lashed my tongue across her folds, and I sent a smaller but no less powerful spark of magic into her sex. She didn’t climax, but her muscles quivered in anticipation of my next maneuver. It was only then, once I had lowered virtually all of her defenses, that I finally dared to push past the toughest and last of her mental barriers.
I wasn’t even close to prepared for the violent tempest of emotions inside her, and once again I nearly lost control. Her hatred in particular was so raw, so visceral, that it nearly paralyzed me before I could dig any further. And what I couldn’t understand was why it was directed so squarely at my people. Luriel didn’t just resent elves; she despised us. Master had mentioned that her family had once been wronged by the Faeyn at some point in the distant past, but the further I delved the more I realized she didn’t actually care about avenging historical slights. Her hatred was much more banal: the cunning and ruthless Grand Duchess of Sorthaal, architect of a hundred schemes and manipulator of half the nobles in the Empire, hated the Faeyn because we were beautiful.
The revelation splashed over me like a bucket of cold water. I had trouble believing that such a powerful woman could be so incredibly vain…but there it was, laid out as plain as day before me. She was jealous of our large eyes, our sharp features, our supple bodies, and of course our longer life-spans. By the time she withered into an old crone I would look virtually the same as I did today, and b
y the time her infant son grew senile I would only just be crossing into middle age. The Covenant had never hidden its hatred of our longevity, and some of the more fanatical prelates had even suggested that it was simply more proof of the heretical blood flowing in our veins. But I had never confronted that raw jealousy personally before, and now that I had I couldn’t help but see it as extraordinarily…petty.
Luriel’s thighs clenched about my head yet again, and as her second climax approached I knew this was my opportunity to finish what I’d started. Reaching in past her memories, I implanted a suggestion deep into her subconscious mind: once we were finished here, she would speak to her husband about allying with Master Kristoff. She would explain how they couldn’t afford to lie back and wait as Emperor Lucian’s foolish war tore the Empire apart. They would join the Quorum, and they would commit Sorthaal’s impressive auxiliary army to the capital if Lucian and the Legion refused to see reason.
The duchess bucked in pleasure just as I finished my work, and I lapped up her sweet nectar even as I once again struggled to breathe. This time when she finally came down she lifted up my head and ran her fingers almost lovingly through my hair.
“You really are a prize, aren’t you?” she gasped. Her glittering amber eyes bored into mine for a long moment before she finally glanced past my shoulder to her husband. “Get out my cock. I want to fuck her. Now.”
“Already done,” Arland said.
He tugged on my leash from behind until I sank back on my haunches, and then he leaned forward and handed his wife an impressively large dintare. It was an artificial phallus, pure and simple, though judging from the small crystals along the harness this one had been imbued with a variety of Aetheric enchantments. Master had shown me a massive assortment of such devices at market once, and he had even taken me with a few different types during my training. But that had been several months ago, and a nervous twinge rippled through my stomach as the duchess secured the dintare around her waist. Behind me, Duke Arland unlocked the cuffs around my ankles and wrists.
