A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  “Why do they all have sex anywhere they want around here?” she asked, turning back to her canvas. “Do the men not have bedrooms?”

  “From what I understand,” Syb said, “sex is encouraged between staff whether it’s public or not, but they don’t like it when it crosses the hierarchy of the lair—like stewards having sex with the blue-robed servants—it should only happen within their own group to prevent societal power abuse. Kon’ayas can voluntarily choose to have sex with anyone they wish, because it helps them to normalize and enjoy what they do for the master. And, of course, there is the omega heat.”

  Elora, I’mya, and Nureen all stopped painting to look at Syb. “What about it?” Elora asked.

  “We are supposed to be learning this in our studies, but there are two ways that it’s dealt with. The first way is to suppress it, which most people do not choose. The second way is to allow other staff to help the omega through it.”

  “Why do people choose not to suppress it?” Nureen asked. “Surely that would be a better option than to leave them at the mercy of another staff members?”

  “I don’t know all the details,” Syb said, somewhat apologetically. “I’m not an omega, so it felt strange for me to ask, but when we have our study session we can ask.”

  “But when is it,” Elora asked, somewhat irritably. “What if one of us goes into our heat before we get a chance to learn about our options?”

  Syb simply shrugged, but Nureen got up. “I’m going to ask Dayatha.”

  I’mya’s canvas ended up looking like a colorful mess, as did she. She had to visit the washroom afterward because paint landed everywhere, and she was not happy about it. It was completely unsatisfactory not to have a final product that was as good as some of the others’. And then to have to wash paint off your breasts? Horrendous. Elora laughed the whole way back to the sleeping lounge at I’mya’s ranting about the activity.

  “They’ve been doing it for ages,” Elora tried to explain between her giggles. “It takes practice.”

  I’mya simply scowled. But as she climbed back up to her nook, she realized she hadn’t thought about anything but painting all afternoon. It was the first time she’d felt at ease in the place... And that had been worth it, even if the end result hadn’t been very good.

  “I spoke to Dayatha,” Nureen called from below, climbing up to her own nook. “Our studies start in the next couple of days. She said no one will be in their heat before then.”

  “How does she know?” I’mya asked.

  “I don’t know how,” Nureen replied. “But I’m relieved. I don’t want to go into my heat unprepared.”

  I’mya settled down on her bedding wondering how Dayatha could predict their heats, but before she could think it through, the bell chimed.

  She sat up, her heart pounding, but she forced herself to calm. Another girl would be going this time. Hearing Dayatha’s footsteps enter the lounge, she crawled to the edge of her nook to see who she was going to choose.

  To her utter horror, Dayatha headed to the foot of her wall and stopped, staring up at her.

  I’mya scooted back in her nook, shocked. “No!”

  A tight, controlled disapproval surfaced on Dayatha’s face. Muttering under her breath, she rose into the air swiftly until she hovered in front of I’mya’s nook. “Control yourself!” she ordered, her voice quiet enough for only I’mya to hear. “You do not ever refuse Master, nor do you behave as though this is not an honor, especially in front of the others.”

  “You told me I didn’t have to go again for a while after yesterday,” I’mya argued. “I’m not going again today! There are other girls who haven’t been yet.”

  Dayatha’s mouth tightened. “I know I said that, but he has demanded you. And you cannot refuse the request.”

  I’mya stared at her. “What?”

  Dayatha began to descend. “We do not have time to debate this. Join me on the ground.”

  I’mya sat in her nook fuming. She thought there should be more time before she saw the dragorai again. She wasn’t ready for him. Yes, her body had healed, but after the relaxing afternoon she’d just had, now she had to guard herself against what he might do. No doubt he requested her so he could torture her again.

  She grit her teeth and cursed, but she couldn’t see a way out of it.

  As I’mya climbed out of her nook, she glanced up at Elora, who offered her an encouraging smile, and Nureen, who grinned brightly as though it was exciting that she had been chosen for a second time in a row. I’mya sighed as she followed Dayatha out of the room. Maybe this was a good thing. Hadn’t she already determined that he helped her memories return? That meant the more time she spent with him, the quicker she would get her memories back. But that only made her feel marginally better.

  She hurried to keep up with Dayatha, who always seemed to be able to walk at unnatural speeds when it came to the master.

  As they approached the chamber, I’mya asked. “Any words of wisdom this time?”

  Dayatha hesitated as they came to a stop in front of the door. “I know we may have begun on difficult footing,” she began, “but you are still a kon’aya, and I care for you like I care for the others. You are still my responsibility, and if you feel this—” she gestured toward the door “—becomes too much, then you can let me know and we can provide you with extra support.”

  I’mya nodded, grateful Dayatha had at least recognized that this was overwhelming.

  “Now that you know what to expect, it should be easier,” Dayatha continued. “But you can always come to see me afterward. Now, in you go. We’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

  I’mya entered the room to find the dragorai was already there. He stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, feet wide, tall and imposing. His stance emanated strength and power. He only wore pants today so his bare chest, broad and muscled, was on display, and for a moment I’mya was wholly intimidated. It didn’t help that he watched her with those dark eyes and hard jaw, as if he had been waiting for her for hours.

  “’et pebal tan itatzon de me la,” he said, his voice hard. He looked at her as though he was expecting an answer.

  I’mya exhaled in frustration. “I cannot understand your language,” she said in annoyance. “If you can understand me, why don’t you speak my language?”

  He didn’t answer, choosing to glare at her from the middle of the room. I’mya huffed out a breath. It were as if he was trying to be as aggravating as possible.

  “Do you want me on the table or the bed,” she asked.

  The man stalked forward so quickly she didn’t have time to move before he was right in front of her. “si nu bnum dakno ’et leaving si bokh dvayfa daakh tusi.” From his rough tone alone, she could tell that he was threatening her or that he was angry about something.

  “You are angry,” she said, taking a moment to carefully examine his expression.

  Slowly, he nodded.

  “How can you be angry with me?” I’mya said sharply. “I haven’t even seen you since early this morning.”

  The dragorai’s eyes flashed and he growled as he stepped even closer, towering over her.

  I’mya stared up at him, then bit her lip thoughtfully. “When I left you were sleeping.”

  Impossibly, the dragorai’s eyes hardened even more, and finally I’mya understood.

  “You weren’t finished with me,” she suggested slowly. “I wasn’t dismissed?”

  Words rumbled out of him with such a salacious tone that heat crept up I’mya’s neck. There was no doubt what he was saying about his intentions for her that morning.

  “I didn’t realize,” she said, trying to be as apologetic as she could. “I wasn’t aware I would be needed.”

  He still wasn’t happy with that because he grabbed her wrists and placed her hands on his pants, then grabbing her hair, he forced her down to her knees.

  Trembling, I’mya unbuckled him, apprehension rising in her chest. His coc
k bound out of his pants as she finally dragged them down his hips. It looked bigger than it had yesterday, but of course, she was closer.

  He positioned his cock at her lips. “pe gen tmo’ gi zmuy.”

  I’mya braced herself. Every time she’d seen men or women doing it around the lair, it looked as though they enjoyed it, but how could they? Their mouth was open in a strange position and some of them sounded like they were choking to death. She took a breath, clinging onto the fact that by the end of her next few hours with him, she would have more memories to piece together about her past.

  His skin was silky on her tongue when she closed her mouth around the tip. She kept her eyes on the dragorai for any indication that she was doing it wrong, but he simply stared down at her with that usual hunger in his eyes.

  She began sucking him slowly, running her tongue over him to explore the features of him; the veins scattered along the length, its various ridges and the smooth, round tip. The dragorai’s hand guided her, helping her find a rhythm, sucking him into her mouth as far as she could go and then pulling back to the tip. It was strange at first, but the taste of him was even more potent than his scent, and once his fluid saturated her mouth and throat, it was difficult not to enjoy it. By the time her nipples were hardening, her slick gathering, she was lost in the feel of him, and she sucked eagerly until her head was bobbing up and down on him in a quick, sharp pace.

  The dragorai groaned, and the low, deep sound burrowed into her stomach, twisting down to the tingle between her legs, agitating her desire for him.

  Magic stirred in the air, but I’mya was too focused on what she was doing to pay attention to what the dragorai may be planning for her.

  The more groans and growls that rumbled from his chest, the more unbearable her arousal became. I’mya slipped her fingers between her legs, searching for that bundle he was so expert at pleasuring, but within a few moments the dragorai yanked her head back, pulling her off his cock.

  “nu bnum yomra bnah gi tag,” he growled. The echo followed within moments. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.”

  I’mya frowned up at him, saliva trickling out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. The echo had returned. What had changed?

  The dragorai grabbed the wrist of the hand between her legs and pulled it up to his face. Brushing her fingers over his nose, he then sucked her fingers one by one.

  I’mya’s core clenched at the feel of his warm mouth, but she forced herself to think about the echo. Why had it suddenly appeared?

  When the cold coils of magic began to wrap down her spine again, she knew. He had casted an incantation. She hadn’t heard him chanting, but he must have. It was the only thing that was different.

  As the magic yanked on her spine, pulling her up into the air, she yelled at the dragorai. “What are you doing?”

  “You didn’t think that your punishment for leaving this room this morning without permission was just to suck my cock, did you?” He smirked, as he pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. “You looked like you enjoyed that too much for it to be any kind of punishment.”

  I’mya hung in the position that she’d been in the day before, her body curved over with her limbs hanging. It wasn’t as painful, but was equally frustrating. She began to thrash again, but this time the dragorai didn’t wait to be kicked.

  He grabbed her thighs and tugged her towards him, entering her with one hard thrust from behind.

  I’mya jerked, that beam of sharp pleasure shooting through her body as she cried out, but he was already pounding into her, quick and hard.

  I’mya flailed, unsure what to do with herself as the surge of sensation began to quiver in her body. It was strange to be in midair, with no support as her whole body shook and shuddered, but eventually she relaxed and focused on the delicious friction between her legs. It built quickly. Arching her back, she pulled her knees up to her stomach and spread them as wide as she could to give him easier and deeper access.

  The dragorai uttered a filthy curse, both of his large hands gripping each of her ass cheeks as his rhythm became harsher and rougher.

  Soon, nothing existed but the spiraling of sweet bliss around her body and the need for it overwhelmed her. She could not get enough of this feeling.

  The dragorai pushed her down so she was on a diagonal with her ass up as he pummeled her harder. She was so wet that the squishing of their joining was positively obscene. All of it served to sink I’mya deeper into the addiction, everything heightened her experience, and when her climax crashed down, it tore through her, brilliantly blinding.

  By the time her senses returned, the dragorai had tilted her back upright and turned her to face him. Both of his hands gripped her hips as he worked her on his cock, though his gaze was on her breasts as though he wished they were in his mouth. In this position, he was too tall to reach them.

  I’mya caught his longing expression and grabbed her breast, playing with the nipple as she smirked at him.

  She almost laughed when his nose flared, annoyance in his eyes as he glanced at her. “Do not play with me, fireball,” he ground out.

  I’mya was much too aroused to laugh, but she lifted a breast as high as she could, dipped out to flick the nipple with her tongue.

  The dragorai’s sudden roar shuddered through her body. Pulling out of her, he placed a flat hand on her stomach and led her to the bed. Buoyed by magic, she floated along until he pushed her down onto her back and descended on her breasts like a madman.

  I’mya loved every lick, every suck, every bite. It was so rough and animalistic, inflicting so much pleasure and pain she knew she would have bruises the next day, but in that moment she didn’t care. He focused his attentions on each nipple, both separately and together until her whole body was teetering on the edge of scorching devastation. When he finally plunged into her again, she tumbled over, convulsing as she screamed for more.

  I’mya climaxed twice more before the dragorai finally knotted her, stretching her to the limit with the bulbous base of his cock. He lay on top of her, his chest heaving as he relaxed completely, smothering her as he settled between her legs. Drenched in pungent sweat, her face plastered to his chest, his weight pressing her heavily into the bed, I’mya sighed in a delighted euphoria.

  “You cannot enter any temple unless you carry good intentions,” the Mheyu said. “The Goddesses can tell if someone comes to them with a rotten heart.”

  “I just wish to pray,” I’mya’s voice was hoarse. She was exhausted and heavy with grief. “I just wish to find some kind of peace.”

  The Mheyu looked her closely. “You are not sleeping.”

  “Does anyone sleep?” I’mya snapped. “We are at war, Guardian. I’m not sure what you expect.”

  “What is it that you expect?” the woman asked. “Why have you come to pray to the Seven today?”

  It had been for I’yala. I’mya’s eyes opened. She remembered now. She had started praying to the Seven when I’yala had died. In her relaxed state, I’mya focused on I’yala, sinking deeper into the peace she was experiencing to encourage her memories. She had to remember her, it felt important.

  “Where do you think Mama and Papa are now?” I’yala said absentmindedly as she laid out I’mya’s knives.

  “They could be anywhere ‘lala,” I’mya said. “Probably drifting along the shores by now. They loved the sea.”

  I’yala was quiet for a moment. “Do you think they know they’re dead?”

  I’mya shot her a look, frozen for a moment, then picked up a knife to sharpen it. “They know,” she said softly. “They accepted their fate.”

  “How do you know?”

  I’mya put the knife down and pulled her sister into her lap, cuddling her close as she rocked her. “When they were captured by the ember, they didn’t call for us, do you do remember? Everyone else was screaming for their friends, their loved ones, their faction leaders—anyone who could help get them out. But Mama and Papa were silent. They
didn’t want us to come for them because they knew. If we had come for them, they would be killing us too.”

  I’yala was silent for a long moment. “I miss them.”

  “Me too, ’lala.”

  The harsh resounding sadness and grief that embraced I’mya at that moment were all that remained when the memories faded. It was only because of the peaceful, settling pressure of the dragorai on top of her and inside her that she didn’t immediately burst into tears. Her parents had not been elderly when they died, like she had told Dayatha. They had been victims of the war, victims of the queen’s ember. I’mya been part of a family, but she and I’yala were the only ones left, until I’yala also died. I’mya couldn’t remember how yet, but she remembered her grief when she went to try to pray.

  Thoughts and memories rolled in her head as she realized she was truly alone. No one was looking for her or waiting for her. She still didn’t know who the man with the curly black hair was, but she knew he wasn’t her family. Maybe she truly had come to the lair to start a new life once I’yala died.

  I’mya wasn’t sure how long she lay under the dragorai—time never seemed to exist in this room—but by the time the dragorai’s knot shrunk, her melancholy mood had sunk to a bitter, grief-fueled anguish.

  As he shifted his position, I’mya caught sight of a new piece of artwork on the wall. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she stared at it in shock. It was the painting she made earlier in the crafting room. “How did you get that?”

  The dragorai didn’t answer. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him.

  She pulled out of his grasp and sat up. “How did you get that painting?” She pointed to the painting on the wall.