Seelie (The Falcon Grey Files Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  Marcus and I were in our bedroom at the Hunters’ citadel, Cocidius, named for a god of war, in the north of Elfhame. A large room had been given to us because we were the best team of Hunters and were gifted with privilege. We were drinking wine before a roaring fire where I sat at Marcus’ feet, leaning against his thigh, watching the flames dancing. We sat in silence, as we often did, with Marcus stroking my long soft hair with his large hands. I loved these moments and felt a sense of peace wash through me, a calm I’d never known with anyone else.

  “It’s time, Little Bird,” he said quietly, using my trigger.

  I smiled to myself and felt my cock react to the gentle call to action. I rose from the floor, naked as always when we were alone, and walked to a heavy wooden cabinet against the far wall, placed between two large windows. I opened the doors and stared inside for a long time. There were all manner of toys to play with; gags, blindfolds, whips, canes, paddles, cuffs; things to pinch, to bind, to cut, to prick, to burn, to control, repress, enhance, excite, delight. Things to fill my body made from ivory, bone, wood, metal; for the mouth, the throat and all other intimate places I surrendered to my dark Dominus. My lover.

  I chose a gag I knew he loved to see me use though it was hard for me to take. The straps were thick leather, the gag itself a dildo of finely carved bone which reached into the back of my throat, preparing me for other delights my Dominus might want to enjoy later. Next came the cane. Hard and heavy. Not the kind that whips through the air and flexes, but the kind that makes a hard impact strike, leaving marks for a long time deep inside the skin. I also removed long hanks of hemp rope, rough and strong, something for me to fight against, something to cut hard into my skin and leave marks, unlike the silk we used when marks on the body of the Crown Prince would not be appropriate. I already wore a tight metal ring around the top of my scrotum and base of my cock. It hurt as I grew harder, considering my fate, but it was worth every aching moment.

  I returned to my dark lord and knelt before his lounging body in the large chair we owned. I held out my offerings for his approval, my head bowed, arms raised high, muscles already working hard to maintain my position. He ignored me. I remained on my knees, utterly passive, for a long time, so long I began to tremble in my thighs, my arms, my stomach. He finished his wine and turned. I knew he’d seen everything but this was all a part of the ritual we both needed. I wanted to be ignored, hurt, humiliated by this strong man and he wanted to see me at his feet, doing his bidding, obeying his thoughts and whims. It gave me such peace. Life was so simple, so calm, so quiet.

  He removed the items from my hands. “You have done well, Little Bird. I will be kind.” Which meant he’d give me something for my pleasure, not just use me for his. I had no idea what this might be but it didn’t matter, I’d earned a reward.

  “Thank you, Dominus,” I said quietly, still with my arms outstretched. He hadn’t given me the order to relax and I wasn’t going to be easily tricked into making a rookie mistake.

  “At ease, Little Bird,” he said.

  My arms came down, my knees widened and I dropped my buttocks onto my heels, toes tucked under. My head remained down but my arms were now behind my back, grasping my elbows. I couldn’t move quickly from this position. I relied on his kindness not to hurt me and he had access to everything. My straining cock, my aching balls... Everything.

  “You forgot the clamps though, Little Bird,” he said.

  I trembled. Forgetting something meant I might be deprived of an orgasm. Receive double lashes. Be forced to do press-ups all night or any number of things which would remind me forever not to make mistakes again.

  “Forgive me, Dominus. I thought the cane would be used instead of the clamp,” I whispered.

  A sharp pain in my back made me flinch but I made no noise. He’d hit me with the heavy cane. “I did not give you a reason to speak, Little Bird,” he said quietly.

  I remained silent.

  I heard him moving about arranging things and I began to fear what would come my way, but I also craved it. The surrender, the utter lack of responsibility, the pleasure I could give and receive. I wanted to groan I needed it so badly. We’d been on the road for weeks, unable to play, and the stress showed.

  Movement behind me. I remained still and passive. A black arm and hand, holding the gag. I opened my mouth without instruction. Marcus pushed the gag into my mouth, the bone dildo pressed down on my tongue, my jaws hurt instantly it was so wide and my lips were stretched tight. He pushed further and the point pressed against the back of my tongue, just on my gag reflex. I swallowed hard and breathed deeply through my nose to suppress the desire to retch. Marcus buckled the back tightly, very tightly, harder than normal.

  He came before me and I looked up his long muscular legs, his heavy and only semi-erect cock, up over that naked expanse of smooth, dark flesh and into his green eyes, the lips twisted in a cruel smile.

  I always wondered about that smile. Was it because he wanted me to believe he was being cruel or because he really was cruel? In our lighter moments, when we discussed our games, I wondered if I should ask, but to be honest, I needed to believe both answers at separate times, so asking would be a mistake. Sometimes the illusion of such mysteries is important to the game.

  He stroked my head and gazed down at me with contempt twisting his smile. His hand tightened in my hair and he pulled upward. I rose in one movement, the muscles working hard. We were nose to nose and I dropped my gaze.

  “No,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

  I raised my eyes and met his, so vivid and bright in his strong dark face. Marcus, though, gasped and I saw his desire and his love for me flare brightly. His fingers trailed over my face, stroking my tight lips and jaw.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  I couldn’t reply but this sudden tenderness wasn’t unusual and further heightened my desire. He cradled my jaw and kissed my cheeks, my neck, my straining lips. My hands remained behind my back and I leaned into the kisses, wanting a moment of pleasure for myself, the feel of his naked body pressed against mine. Marcus’s hand gripped my throat and he pulled back.

  “No, Little Bird, not yet.”

  I hadn’t noticed but he held a piece of rope in his hands and he offered a pre-tied loop. I obeyed. I released my elbows and brought my hands before me, slipping them through the loop. Marcus moved swiftly, tying the loop closed with causal efficiency. He pulled me forward, to stand below a hook we’d fixed to the ceiling, and lifted my hands over my head. A hook waited for me, attached to a long thick rope and a pulley system that tied to the wall. He hooked me up, moved to the wall, and released the rope before pulling on it slowly. My hands were drawn higher and I found my body stretched as if I reached for the flour on the top shelf of a cupboard. He pulled further, nice and slow, making me taut, I rose onto my toes and he pulled just a little further, the rope biting hard into the skin on my wrists. He watched them, to make certain he didn’t lift me so high I damaged my arms. He tied me off and I breathed hard, every muscle in my body corded and tight. He took a set of cuffs with a long pole from the cupboard, he knelt and I lost sight of him but felt his fingers attach the cuffs to my left ankle, then he forced my legs further apart than I could easily manage and attached the other cuff.

  By now I breathed with difficultly and I ached, my joints stretched far beyond comfort but well within safety margins for someone with my fitness and strength.

  He rose and brushed his hands up my long legs, over my hips and up my ribs. He stepped back and cocked his head to one side,

  I watched him carefully, his long braids tied back. “You look amazing,” he said and smiled, this time without the twist, a genuine smile of appreciation. I concentrated on maintaining my even breaths, but I felt myself flush with pleasure at his words.

  When he returned to me he did something I loved about this game. He began to stroke every taut line in my body, tracing the muscles of my arms, over my sho
ulders, chest, stomach, back, arse, thighs – every muscle and rib he caressed, some he kissed, some he licked, some he bit. I tried to remain still but I couldn’t, the caresses brought every nerve in my skin alive, rising its level of sensitivity to the point of insanity. I whimpered and slowly lost control over my breathing, the gag just another thing to enjoy as I learnt to relax around its invasive pressure because of the distraction of Marcus’ gentle attention.

  He didn’t once touch my cock but he didn’t need to, just his gentle strokes were enough to send me mad with desire. I’d have done anything for him in that moment. He murmured his love for me, for my strength, my desire to please him and I began to sink into the sensations, my breathing now coming deep, no longer in my chest, but further down in my belly and I delved into myself, existing only for this moment, for Marcus.

  I didn’t notice when he stopped touching me, my skin so alive that every gentle breeze felt like tickling fingers. The pain in my arms, so high over my head, no longer registered and the discomfort of trying to remain on my toes vanished.

  Until the moment of the first strike from the cane. My eyes flew open and I found I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so much. Without warning, without warming me up, he’d struck me hard across the top of my buttocks. The sting felt white hot.

  A strong hand grasped my jaw with no mercy. “Breathe, Little Bird. You can take it,” he snapped.

  The flip between gentle lover and cruel master further confused my addled mind and when number two struck me I lost all sense of place and time. I lived only for the feel of the cane, the stretched torment of my limbs and the evil gag straining my throat and mouth.

  He did not touch me during my caning. I knew why. I was being punished. He only ever hurt me like this when I’d done something to hurt him. I’d spoken out of turn, given him the wrong tools to play with, and just before we left on our latest patrol he’d found me fucking a lord of the Seelie Court during an orgy. I had not asked for permission. It didn’t even occur to me to ask because I wanted that fine soft skin in my mouth so badly and he purred when I nuzzled his neck.

  Strike followed harsh strike. I began to sweat with the pressure and each blow made me grunt. I’d have begged him to stop if I could but the gag left me dumb. He lashed hard at my arse, then hit my lower back, before moving to the tops of my thighs. It stung the worst when he hit me there and he knew it, making me thrash, trying to escape the pain. Smack. Smack. Smack.

  It stopped. Silence. I heard Marcus breathing heavily. He stepped up to me, pressing himself against the side of my body, pulling on the ropes binding my arms.

  “Well done, Little Bird. You know what they were for?”

  I nodded.

  “Is it enough of a lesson?” he asked softly.

  At this point he was asking me two things, one; had I had enough to reach the state of mind I sought during our painful love-making sessions? And two; did I want more?

  My skin burned where he’d lashed me with the heavy cane but I wanted more. He grabbed my balls in his large hand and squeezed. I tried to scream but the gag held me silent except for a heavy grunt and I fought not to puke.

  I nodded, hating it and loving it all at once. I never felt weak for taking this pain from him, in fact it was quite the reverse, I felt strong for knowing what I wanted, how I wanted it and from whom. I understood my place completely and I revelled in the freedom it gave me. The sense of release.

  “You want more of the cane?” he asked. He released my balls and turned my head so he could look directly into my eyes. “Falcon, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You’re badly marked already. You’ll be sore for weeks.” He’d stepped outside of our scene for a moment to ask me if I really wanted more, or I was doing it because I’d lost all control of my own desires.

  I nodded again. He huffed. “Another ten and that’s it, Little Bird. Another hard ten for playing when you shouldn’t.”

  I nodded slowly – wanting more.

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I love you, Little Bird,” he whispered.

  I whimpered. He moved behind me and the ten began, each one delivered to overlay others, waking them back up, so they all became a cacophony of pain. Buttocks, back, thighs, buttocks. Slow, measured, the cane whistling slightly before each blow and he never left it against my skin, so the shock came back into the weapon, he flicked it back as fast as it came in, ensuring the pain remained only with me.

  Each one made me groan and I ached to feel his hand on my cock, or even better his mouth. I needed to fuck, to be fucked. Sometimes he drove me to this point and left the room. He’d go and eat somewhere, leave me hanging like a dead pheasant, before returning and fucking me all night without allowing me any form of release until dawn.

  Tonight was different. When the last of the ten were delivered he lowered the rope holding my hands slightly so I could stand correctly. He stood before me but I watched the ground. What would he ask of me next?

  “I wanted to feel you trying to swallow my cock,” he said, with his strong arms crossed over his massive chest. “But I don’t think I can wait that long. You can do that later. I want to fuck you where you stand.”

  I shivered in anticipation.

  He moved behind me. His fingers were slick with oil in moments and they touched me only briefly, he’d ensure his cock was able to keep me wet. I felt his breath on the back of my neck, hot and moist. I pushed my hips back and felt his groin touching my buttocks. I groaned. I wanted to tell him to hurry. I wanted to beg him to fuck me hard.

  “It’s not going to be that easy for you to enjoy, Little Bird,” he whispered.

  Something liquid hit my skin and a sharp scent hit my nose. I couldn’t place it until I remembered dinner. We’d had lemons on the plates with the fish.

  The sting of my bruises and grazed skin made me gasp. Marcus deftly grabbed my cock to stop me bucking away from him as the pain grew and I felt his cock seeking entrance to my body.

  I wanted to scream, ‘No, don’t do it now, I want to feel your cock not the fucking lemon juice!’ Which is why he’d done it.

  I had no control over the sex because my mind couldn’t concentrate on all the sensations happening to me at once.

  I desperately fought for control, to block off the stinging, but I couldn’t do it. Each time he pushed into me the lemon juice moved somewhere else because I was sweating. All I managed were a few grunts. Between the pain he kept on my cock with his harsh grasp, the tight ropes cutting into my wrists and the cane marks on my body, I had no hope of pleasure. He fucked hard, knowing perfectly well it hurt.

  It kept hurting until my mind, quite suddenly, sorted it all out. The lemon juice pain faded. So did the cane marks. I re-learnt to love my gag and I relaxed into the ropes binding my arms. I began to ride him back in return.

  “Oh, yes,” he groaned. “That’s what I wanted. Fuck me, Fal,” he breathed.

  I slowed everything down. He held me, maintaining our balance through years of practice and he coaxed me into every delicious stroke. I grew strong with his persuasion, the rocking becoming deeper, harder, better all the time. His hand worked my cock and balls in time with my desire for feeling him. Marcus cried out and I knew I’d given him just about all the pleasure he could take. I continued to work hard, every muscle and joint contorting to give him release.

  His head touched my bowed back and I heard him whimper slightly, his hand around my cock moving in time with his hips. He’d need to finish in his own way, so I braced and he moved hard, deep, shallow short thrusts and deeper. His body shuddered. He cried out. His hand tightened. I came hard, the gag pressing down on my tongue, filling my mouth as Marcus filled my body.

  When it was over we both remained still until I flinched at the pain in my arms.

  “Shit, Falcon, sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this long to let you go,” he said. He drew out of me quickly.

  In a flurry of movement he released my arms, lowering them slowly, unhooked my legs from the wooden bar and help
ed me close them because of the pain in my hips, then he gently removed the gag.

  I whimpered at the pain.

  He grabbed a soft blanket from the bed, wrapped me up tight, and settled me on the bed. A glass of wine arrived in one hand. He climbed into the bed next to me, drew me and the wine into his embrace and held me, talking gently of his pride and love. I gradually relaxed. Softly, carefully, with such tenderness, he returned me to our world...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When I woke in the morning I hurt everywhere, the bed was one big tangle of sweaty sheets and I’d managed to have an orgasm.

  The Dvergar had done some serious damage during my slaughter; between that and the loss of blood and power to save Marcus, as well a night of fevered dreams about the man I loved, I felt like shit. I found clean jeans, shirt, jumper and another heavy leather coat because I remembered I’d not taken the car; I had to walk to work.

  I grumbled and muttered but left the warehouse. I slunk into the office, trying to avoid conversation and sat behind my desk with my head in my hands, willing the pounding ache to stop.

  Noise from outside flooded in, then vanished. I glanced up and my DC smiled sweetly. “Heavy night?” she asked. She held my favourite jacket in her hand.

  I grunted.

  She came and sat on my desk. “You alright, Falcon?” Real concern made me look up at her and try to be a bit more normal.

  “Fine, Constable. As you say, heavy night,” I said.

  “You look like crap and that is one hell of a love bite. What was she, a vampire?” Bethan pulled at the collar of my jumper.

  “Not vampire, not a she,” I said without thinking.

  Her breath hissed over her teeth. “You need to keep that quiet, Falcon. You’re covered in bruises,” she said. “What happened?”

  “Boyfriend trouble,” I admitted, trying to stop her poking at me.

  “I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”

  “Ex-boyfriend trouble,” I qualified.