To Tame An Angel: A Femdom Fantasy Romance

CHAPTER SEVEN

NALLA

I spent the next hour pleasuring myself, living with the musky smell of wood and citrus he exuded. Despite cuming, I was severely unfulfilled, and I angered at myself. Yes, his feet were incapacitated, but his cock wasn’t. Mother would’ve enjoyed herself and not succumbed to guest quarters to find release. My ire was irrational, and I had to leave for a ride, to feel the wind on my face, and calm my senses. But I couldn’t leave him alone for long.

He wasn’t going anywhere in his condition, even so, he’d not earned the right for alone time. By the time I returned home, I was sweaty but calm. Opting for a quick bath to wash the grime from my skin, I dressed in another pale gossamer gown. One that, if soaked with water, turned translucent. It’ll be perfect for tonight. Instructing the servants to bring warm water to the room, I made my way back to him.

When I reentered the room, the smell of wood and citrus was so sharp I paused. I stared at him; he was where I left him, but he was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell, his muscles relaxed, and his mouth parted. His hair fell over his face, and I studied him. The night before I’d been worried, now I wasn’t. Now I know he was all bark and no bite.

He was incredibly handsome, thick and corded from his neck to his feet. Dark hair spread slightly over his chest and forearms. His hands are wide and long. If he wanted to, he could grasp my neck and twist it before I could conjure my magic. His face was freed from all the tension he carried, his brows were thick and his lashes long. He was still grimy and dirty, which is why this idea was perfect.

When the servants entered with a large pitcher of hot water, he was startled. Panic was in his eyes, and I moved to his eyesight.

“You wake sharply,” I said.

The servants set down the water and wordlessly left.

He breathed thickly and ran a hand over his sleepy face. “In the pits you have to.”

That awful feeling burned me once more, imagining what he must’ve endured since the age of five. I nodded and walked to him, taking a sponge left by the help. He eyed me wearily.

“Time for punishment?” he asked with a testy tone.

I smiled, waving the sponge. “Of sorts. Since you’re bed bound, we might as well make up for time.”

He stiffened as I pulled the pot closer to the bed from the table. I took out two vials and uncorked them, inhaling their lovely smell. He watched with near fascination as I shook drops into the water. The smell of eucalyptus and lavender filled the space.

He grimaced. “What is that?”

I sunk the sponge into the water.

“Scoot over,” I said, wringing out the sponge.

He didn’t move, bare-chested as he was with a thin sheet covering his legs and privates. He looked ready to fight me. He eyed the sponge with trepidation, and I fought the urge not to sigh and become overwhelmed with frustration.

“It’s a bath. I’m bathing you,” I said, showing him the soaked perfumed sponge.

Unmoved, he looked up at me. “I was bathed before I was brought here.”

I raised a brow. “That was before you stumbled half naked through a forest and nearly died in a ravine.” I pointed to his grimy arms. “Look at you, you’re filthy.”

His mouth was set in a thin line. “I’m the cleanest I’ve ever been.”

My shoulders quickly deflated. Gods. Ok, baby steps. I swear it’s like dealing with a child.

“Give me your hand. I promise I won’t hurt you,” I offered him mine.

Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it into mine. He was so much larger that it covered mine entirely, seeping warmth into me. Showing him the sponge, I gently pressed it against his forearm and let the warm water coat him. His eyes were on the sponge. He was tense, the muscles of his forearm straining. Slowly, I moved the sponge and cleaned his arm. His brows shifted upwards and his eyes softened. There was a sweetness to his realization, and I smiled.

“See? It’s nice,” I murmured.

“Yes,” his word was a whisper. “I… this was done to me when I was little. Before the pits.”

I paused my movements and realized he was so broken it might be beyond my capabilities to fix. Maybe that’s why other women don’t even bother. If they ever become close enough to their angel-men, the responsibility was so large and insurmountable that it became overwhelming. The wrongness of our entire setup as a society sliced me thick under my heart and the compulsion to comfort him grew stronger. It strengthened my magic; I felt it sizzling under my skin.

“Scoot,” I said.

This time, he obeyed. I settled myself next to him, pressed against the sheet covering his hips, and stared at him. He was unreadable, but he offered me his hand again. I smiled slightly and took it, cleansing his skin as he watched my movements. The water ran down my arm, creating translucent spots on my gown. I dipped the sponge again and moved to his other arm, making him twist towards me. His head came closer and this time he studied my face. I purposively allowed him the privacy to do so.

“Why are you doing this?” His words were a whisper of breeze against my cheek. I looked up at him. “I hit you and ran away and fought you the entire time. When are you going to punish me?”

I pulled back and softly took his chin, making him stiffen. I smiled, running the sponge over his neck. He loved this, almost closing his eyes and sighing.

“The thing about punishment is,” I murmured, sliding the sponge down his neck and into his chest. “Pain and pleasure walk a fine line. Pain is about anticipating the pleasure.”

The smell of woody musk and citrus floated to me and I smiled wider. His lips parted and his blue eyes darkened as he stared at me. I sunk the sponge once more and brought it back to his chest, taking my time over his nipples and allowing myself plenty of time to appreciate his muscled body.

“You’re very beautiful. Did you know that?” I asked him.

This confused him, and he pulled back with a questioning look. “Men are not beautiful.”

“Of course they are,” I laughed.

He stared at me with such confusion it made me laugh more. He was transfixed. His lips quirked. A near ghost of a smile. I blushed at his intense stare.

“That is a strange laugh,” he stated.

“Oh,” I sunk the sponge into the water and wrung it. The water is already getting dirty. “I give you a compliment and you tell me I’m strange.”

“No,” he blurted, and his throat bobbled up and down. “It’s strange because it’s different. There’s no… malice. Just mirth.”

I looked away and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Let me get your back.”

I stood, and he was confused when I pushed him forward and slid behind him, sitting on the pillows. He was stiff, looking at me over his shoulder. Our faces were close, and I squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

When the sponge met his back and the hot water slid down his spine, he let out a sigh that seemed to expel all of his worries. He leaned forward and moaned in pleasure.

“Gods,” he murmured, and I had to bite my lip as my cunt contracted while I watched his face.

“It’s nice, yes?” I asked, running the sponge down his back, making him arch.

“Yes,” he lets out a breath.

“I need more water,” I said and gave him the sponge. He quickly dunked it into the basin and as he brought it to me, it drenched his legs, creating small circles of transparent sheet where I could see his cock.

I pressed the sponge to the back of his neck and squeezed; he moaned and gripped my other hand. We’re certainly going to include this in our routine. Watching him enjoy this is spurting a fire of desire deep within me. Boldly, I sat up on my knees and leaned over his shoulder. My breasts pressed against his back.

“Lift your arms, darling,” I murmured against his chin.

He did, and I washed under his arms, allowing my fingers to linger softly against his sensitive skin. To my surprise, he leaned back into me, pressing his forehead against my neck.

It’s such a tender thing I can’t help but cradle his head against me as I wash under his ears, earning small noises of contentment. His cock hardened.

Then he whispered, “Tannor. My name is Tannor.”

I paused and looked down at him. He lazily blinked. His blue eyes were so dark they seemed black. I found it hard to swallow. Despite knowing this man belonged to me, it was all just paper; he didn’t actually belong to me. Furthermore, can people even belong to people? There was a sweetness to receiving his name. I cupped it in my heart and cherished it. It’ll make all the lessons and anticipation so much better when I finally allowed him in me. It’ll be exquisite.

Sliding my hand down his chest, I held his eyes and slowly uncovered the sheet from between his legs. He held my gaze as he gasped. His cock is ready for the handling. The thrill that at this moment I could do anything I liked to him gushed my cunt and I slightly ground myself against him. He panted out a little puff of a breath.

“I’m going to wash your cock now, Tannor,” I said.

“Yes, please,” he hissed.

I smiled a little wickedly. Squeezing the sponge, the water rainfalls over his penis, making him buckle, pressing himself further into me, grabbing my legs behind him and squeezing me.

I dropped the sponge.

“So dirty,” I murmured into his ear as my fingers encircled the shaft. It’s engorged and warm, slick with water. I yanked at him, delighting in his sudden desperation. He curved, desperate for more of my touch. “I have to make sure I clean it well if I’m going to allow it inside of me.”

At my words, he becomes desperate, encircling my wrist, his head thrown back, eyes closed, throat exposed. I leaned into his neck and slowly licked him from the base of his throat to his ear, making his skin break out in goose bumps. He thrust into my hand and just as I felt like he would lose control; I let go of his cock.

His breath was sharp, and he opened his eyes as he stared at me over his shoulder. I leaned in and bit his cheek, a little peck.

“This is a lesson in denial, Tannor,” I hissed.

Then I slid myself out from behind him. He looked right down enraged, but with his weeping cock between his legs, he looked almost comical.

“What -” He was outraged.

“That’s for running away,” I said and ensured he watched me as I flickered my nipple through my gown, letting out a moan. “Now, if you’ll excuse me… since you’ve not earned the right to pleasure me, I have to handle it myself.”

He pitched forward, outstretching his hand. “Come here, fuck all these rules.”

I shook my head. “No. I like these rules. I like to see you sitting there, cock so desperate for me and knowing you can’t have me. Sitting like a denied lad, unable to enter me.”

The smell of his arousal exploded at my words. With dark eyes, he angrily pushed down his cock. Useless as it sprung back up.

“Stop using your magic!”

“I’m not,” I smiled. “Denial is turning you on all on your own, Tannor,” I backed away. “Just think, no matter how much you yank at yourself, it still won’t be as good as me.”

His mouth dropped open, and he was panting once more. “Nalla, please come here. Let me pleasure you. Let me thank you for tending to me.”

I stepped further back, flicking my nipple once more, then shook my head.

“Earn it,” I smirked. “Be my good boy and earn it.”

“You - you bitch!” He was rabid, but I provided him a teasing smile, glancing at his weeping cock for one final memory to hold me over, then I left. My ears delighted in his angry frustrated grunts.