by Lila Dubois
The woman stood then and took a length of cloth, tying it over the eyeholes in the mask. Once he was blinded, she threw off her cloak. Beneath it, she wore a simple sheath that stopped at the top of her thighs. A thick belt sat heavy on her hips, weighted down by the implements that hung from it. Aketa could identify a pair of black leather gloves, a coil of thin rope, and a crop like the one she saw yesterday. The rest of the items were a mystery.
The woman took the crop, her movements silent, and struck the man on the chest. He jumped, hissing out a breath, and a spot of red blossomed near his nipple. The woman raised the crop once more, this time landing the blow squarely on his nipple, which made him yell out.
She continued his punishment, striking his chest again and again, until his nipples were flame-red and erect.
She knelt and blew across one nipple, then licked it.
The effect upon the man was profound. He jerked his hips into the air, shouting with need. His hips pumped, and Aketa realized he was near orgasm.
“You will not come,” the woman commanded, bringing the crop up between his legs, tapping his balls sharply.
The man sank back, curling in on himself, his chest working like bellows. She went to him, holding him close, offering him comfort, protection. He took comfort in this touch, the touch of his tormentor.
She bid him rise to his feet, his cock bobbing in the air as he did so. She turned him, so they could see his well muscled back and ass, and his hands, bound together behind him. She grabbed the chain between the manacles and lifted, pulling his hands up to the small of his back, which left his ass exposed.
After yesterday’s display Aketa was not surprised when the woman brought her hand down on his ass in a firm spank. What did surprise her was the savagery with which she did it. The woman’s hand came down again and again, in a punishing rhythm. She paused and pulled on one of the leather gloves that hung from her belt, and started up again, spanking him until the man was jerking and jumping with each swat. Her fingerprints glowed white against his reddened flesh after each hit. When she stopped they were both panting.
The woman motioned with her hand, and Lord Anleeh, his face somber, carried over the same bench that had been used yesterday. He positioned it before the man and, as soon as it was in place, the woman put her hands on her captive's back and shoved. He fell awkwardly, landing with an ‘oomph’.
The woman kicked his legs apart, and reached between them. Grabbing his cock she pulled it so it rested against the bench, pointing down, rather then being sandwiched between his belly and the bench.
She toyed with his cock a bit, raking it with her fingers, pulling and pinching the tip.
Aketa was so wet she feared there was little hope of escaping without a stain on the back of her dress.
After toying with his cock she moved to his head. Pulling him up by his hair, the woman pressed his face against the apex of her own thighs. She lifted the skirt of her short tunic, and draped it over his head. The woman’s smile, and the wet noises coming from beneath the fabric, left little doubt that the man was licking and pleasuring the woman’s sex.
Aketa thought that if she were in command of such a specimen she would have done this bit much earlier.
As one hand fisted in his hair, holding his face against her sex, the woman lifted the crop with the other. She began to beat him again, his back, ass, and arms all receiving blows, even as he continued to pleasure her.
Confusing though she found this, Aketa could not help but be further aroused by it, and she could envision herself doing it, even if she could not understand why she would want to.
The woman’s hips were soon rocking against his face, and the wet, labored, sound of the man’s breathing was loud in the air.
When she came, moaning and gasping in pleasure, the woman released him. The man’s head fell, his upper body dropping down over the bench.
But the woman was not done with him.
Moving back to his ass, she took a moment to pull on the second glove, and then ran her hands over all the flesh she’d punished.
Soon her rubbing was concentrated on his ass. She kneaded the firm, muscled globes, which flexed beneath her fingers, then began pulling the halves of his ass apart, exposing his anus.
Aketa gasped along with the others when, after prying his ass apart, the woman pressed the tip of one finger against, and then into, his ass. The man moaned, and then again when she removed her finger and re-inserted it.
Aketa had never heard of such a thing. Why would the woman do such a thing?
But then she noticed the man’s cock. It twitched and jerked, completely on its own. The man was enjoying this.
The hawk stopped and grabbed a tiny pot on the floor. Dipping her fingers in, the woman held them up to show the girls they were shiny and wet. Moistened now, the woman pushed her finger back into the man’s ass, and then added a second. Aketa tried to imagine what the stretching would feel like, similar to how Moregon had stretched her sex with his two big fingers.
The woman thrust her fingers in and out, fucking him. That was the point, Aketa soon realized. Possessing a woman by penetrating her was the ultimate act of control and dominance for a man. If a woman wanted to do the same, she would have to penetrate him in a similar way.
The woman lifted something from her belt, one of the items Aketa had not been able to identify. It was in the shape of a cone, with a rounded tip, and an indent near the widest part. The woman dipped the tip of the cone into the little jar, and smoothed the wetness along it.
Surely she would not…
The woman spread the man’s ass cheeks with one hand, and positioned the tip of the cone against his puckered hole, applying pressure. It sank into him.
Half way in, he started to thrash about. The woman spanking his ass, five hard swats, and he stopped squirming. She continued to press, now using two hands. The man groaned and grunted, uttering something that might have been “Goddess, please.”
He was beautiful in his suffering.
The cone slipped in up to the divot. His ass muscled closed around it, leaving the wide base protruding. The woman grabbed the base and tugged, showing them how firmly it was lodged.
Her slick fingers stroked his cock, which was swollen and nearly purple. After only two strokes the first stream of seed shot from his cock. She pressed her fingers hard against the base, pinching his cock, and stopped his orgasm.
He cried out, cursing softly, but she gave him no mercy.
Lifting the coil of rope from her belt the woman bound the base of his cock with three loops, then did the same to the top of his sac, pressing his balls down into a shiny pouch beneath the loops of rope.
She tied it off and bid him stand. On shaking legs, his back, ass, and still-bound arms spotted by the kiss of her crop, the man stood. Using the dangling rope as a leash the woman led him around the room.
Aktea thought this must surely be the end.
But there was more pleasure to be wrung from the helpless man. She bid him lie down on his back, his back arched due to his bound hands. She pulled the blindfold from his eyes.
Standing astride his hips, she lifted her tunic so the man could see her sex, and he bucked. Aketa could barely imagine what her power over him must be at this point, that he would react so violently to no more than the sight of her sex.
Slowly she sank down, directly onto his cock, which was swollen with blood above the ropes. They both moaned when she was seated fully atop him.
Stripping off the gloves the woman dug her nails into his chest as she rode him, her hips pumping up and down. It was delectable, if her expression was to be trusted, but Aketa could not help but wonder if she wouldn’t rather that his hands were free to touch and toy with her nipples.
The woman came for the second time, grinding her hips against him. When she lifted herself free, the man’s cock was shiny wet and still rock hard.
With a tug to the rope around his cock, she bid him rise. The man climbed awkwardly to
his knees, but he did not rise. Instead he bent and pressed a kiss to the top of each foot, his devotion plain.
She stroked his head, and again, though gently, tugged the rope.
He rose, and she led him out of the room.
Chapter 13
Aketa stopped short, one hand still on the door. Standing just outside the dormitory entrance, Lord Rohaj raised one brow.
Aketa ducked her head and inched the door closed. Perhaps Lord Rohaj was filling in for one of the guards who normally lined the corridors. Aketa took a small step to the side, head bent.
Lord Rohaj took a step forward and braced his hand on the wall beside her shoulder, barring her way.
“Not tonight.”
Don’t get in my way, I need to get out of here, I need some relief. It’s not fair to show a girl something like that and then give her no privacy. Get out of my way or I’ll … I’ll … I’ll tie your balls up!
Aketa’s defiant words did not pass her lips. Instead she stood in place, her small act of defiance her refusal to retreat.
“Go back to bed, girl.”
She did not move.
“Perhaps you are the one for him after all.” Lord Rohaj said. Aketa could hear the smile in his voice. “Go back to bed. You will not be allowed to sneak out tonight.”
Aketa held her ground for another moment, then nodded, and slipped back into the dormitory. She kept her head bowed to hide the smile that curved her lips. Lord Rohaj thought she might be the one to win Moregon.
Aketa slid into bed. Her interlude with Lord Rohaj had dimmed the arousal that bid her sneak out, and she was asleep within minutes.
* * * *
“I love the yellow, it’s so happy!” Amzel stroked the bolt of sunny yellow fabric.
“You will look awful in it,” Sornes said with authority.
Though she was loath to, Aketa privately agreed with her. The yellow was too close in color to Amzel’s hair, and made her skin appear sallow.
“But it’s such a happy color,” Amzel said, even as she released the fabric.
Sornes was holding a bolt of purple that would have looked stunning on Amzel. “Try a blue,” she said, failing to offer up the chance at any of the fabrics she’d appropriated.
The three were sitting in a small chamber filled with fabric. A servant had greeted them that morning, saying that the Queen was busy, and that he would lead them to the clothier’s chambers. Once there he’d invited them to look around and chose some things, and that someone would be with them shortly.
The servant had been polite and welcoming, but had failed to answer their questions as to where the other two girls had gone.
“You really think they’re gone?” Amzel asked, stroking a swatch of robin’s-egg blue. The topic had consumed them since the servant left.
“I’m sure of it. They were frightened, or disgusted, by what they saw last night, so the Queen removed them.”
“But they were asleep in their beds. I never heard them leave.”
“Perhaps the Queen had them killed,” Sornes said.
“Sornes,” Amzel gasped, “you should not say such things. She would never do that.”
“She said she wanted what we saw kept a secret.”
“And she did a spell on us so we couldn’t tell anyone.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a real spell; maybe instead she just killed them.”
“Oh no, please don’t say such things.”
Sornes casually toyed with a bit of ribbon, though she was looking sidelong at Amzel. “If you are scared you should leave. You can sneak out now, while it’s day. You live in the city, you’d make it home before they knew you were gone. Once your family had you back it would be too risky to kill you.”
Aketa bared her teeth. Sornes was a traitorous bitch. She was clearly attempting to eliminate Amzel, her only real threat. The fact that Sornes had made it this far, that the Queen hadn’t seen through her, was worrisome.
“I, I … no, I could not do that to Lord Moregon.”
“We’ve barely seen him. I doubt he’d notice if you left.”
You’ve barely seen him. I’ve seen, and touched, plenty of him.
“But he might think that I ran away from him, and that would hurt his feelings.”
Sornes opened her mouth, but before she could continue her torture the door opened and Lord Anleeh walked it.
Aketa sat up straight and the others stiffened. She looked at the empty doorway behind him, wondering if they had been brought here to witness another sexual display, rather than to choose fabrics.
“And then there were three,” Lord Anleeh said with a dazzling smile. His attire was quite as elegant today as it had been last night.
When none of them responded, he chuckled. “Don’t fear. I’m not here to introduce another display. Or perhaps I should say don’t get your hopes up.”
Sornes batted her lashes and dipped her head.
Bitch.
“I am here to chose and design a new garment for each of you.”
“I’m glad. Poor Aketa,” Sornes looked at her with mock sympathy. “She’s starting to smell.”
I am not, I wash every day. Hateful woman.
But the damage was done and Aketa could feel tears of embarrassment forming in her eyes. She took a deep breath, attempting to alleviate the knot that formed in her throat.
“I see that kindness is not a virtue you plan to cultivate, Sornes,” Lord Anleeh said.
Sorne’s face was a study in shock. Perhaps no one had ever confronted her about her vicious ways. Aketa immediately felt warmer towards Lord Anleeh.
“Now that you’ve retracted your claws, let us get down to business.” Anleeh looked each of them over. “Aketa, stand please.”
Aketa got to her feet, painfully aware of her height in comparison to the other girls. Anleeh seated himself at a long table and pulled forward a stack of parchment sheets and a charcoal flake. He concentrated on Sornes for a moment, and then sketched furiously.
“Sornes, you will have a simple dress, with a scoop collar and scalloped hem, in the blue Amzel is holding.” Sornes looked at the pale color with a curled lip. “That color is much more befitting a girl. Darker colors are for more … mature women.”
He set the parchment aside and took a fresh piece for Amzel. He smiled at her, and sketched, a bit slower this time. Aketa inched closer so she could see what he’d drawn. Amzel’s dress had a square neck, long sleeves, and a thick band below the breasts.
“And yours will be in?” he paused. Amzel held up a corner of the yellow fabric. “Ah, no, not that I fear. It will be in the purple.”
Sornes’s eyes narrowed, and Aketa could have shouted in glee.
“And now for you,” he said to Aketa.
Self conscious, she reached up and tugged her scarf forward, deepening the shadows over her face.
Lord Anleeh rose from the table and beckoned her forward. Aketa obeyed.
“Would you be willing to make a trade?” he asked, sotto voice.
Not sure she understood, but wanting to please him, she nodded.
“I will trade you one of my secrets, for one of yours.” He touched one finger to the edge of her scarf.
Aketa recoiled, shaking her head.
“I would ask that you trust me. I swear your secret would find safe harbor with me. Nothing and no one would know, save me. I will not tell Moregon.”
Aketa’s heartbeat was so loud she wondered if he could hear it. It was only luck that she’d been able to hide her shame this long. She should begin readying herself for the worst. She would expose her face to him, and perhaps his disgust would begin to kill her heart, deadening her to the pain that would come when Moregon finally turned away from her.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
Taking the edges of her scarf, she pulled them free of where she’d tucked them into her bodice. She dropped the scarf back, so it pooled over her shoulders.
Lord Anleeh looked at her face
, his gaze immediately going to the right side. He was quiet for a long moment, and then he nodded.
Unsure what his reaction, or lack thereof, meant, Aketa pulled the scarf back into place.
“In trade, I will tell you my secret,” he whispered. “The man and woman you saw the first night. That was myself and my wife, Siara.”
Aketa’s mouth popped open in shock, and Anleeh laughed.
“Now for your dress.”
His fingers flew over the clean parchment. The dress he drew fit snuggly from shoulder to knee, flaring slightly below that. A second piece fitted from the middle of the breast to the top of the hips, over the top of the base dress. The neck was cut in a deep “v” with a short standing collar around the neck.
Unlike the others, he added a head to this picture. He drew in a half mask that covered the right side of the face.
Aketa realized that the mask, along with the placement of the collar, would cover her, while the plunging neckline would still allow her to show off her feminine assets.
The garment was beautiful. Aketa wanted it, the way she’d wanted the jewelry in the maze. She reached out to touch the picture, but pulled her fingers back at the last moment.
“It will be yours,” Lord Anleeh assured.
Aketa nodded in thanks and retreated.
Amzel and Sornes were watching her, their questions obvious.
“Thank you, ladies,” Lord Anleeh said, rising. “The seamstresses will begin work right away, though it will be a few days until you have them. I will take you back to your dormitory.”
“Lord Anleeh?”
“Yes, Amzel?”
“I don’t mean to be too, um, forward, but when might we actually see Lord Moregon? We’re here to be his wife, and yet we have seen him only once.”
“You are right to wonder, and justified in your question. I can only pray you continue to be patient. Everything up to now has been in an effort to weed out those girls who were not worthy of Moregon. Now that only three remain, and you have proven yourself amenable to those things which Moregon needs, you will see much more of him. In fact, you will soon be intimately acquainted with him.”
