Chapter Seven
My second morning starts with a lesson.
A terrible lesson that is not as fun as the lessons of the day before.
“Ouch! Witch!” I hiss under my breath, nursing my reddened knuckles.
The housekeeper, Brujon, flips her stick up and paces behind me. I’m in the dining room for breakfast, learning each of the numerous and complicated arrangements of tableware.
“Pick up the fruit knife,” the old ghoul commands me again.
“As I’ve already explained,” I say through gritted teeth, “Luthian said he never wants to see me feeding myself here. I’m not supposed to touch any of these—”
She snatches my hand and strikes it with the stick again. I shout in pain and outrage. But I will not pick up the knife. I will obey Luthian. And I don’t know which is the fruit knife, anyway.
“Brujon!” Luthian barks as he enters the dining room. “What are you doing to my ward?”
“Educating me on the proper utensils to use at a meal,” I answer before she can.
He frowns at me. “And you will not cooperate?”
“You said I’m not to feed myself, that you wouldn’t have me touch a single fork or glass at your table. I don’t wish to do anything that breaks your rules.” I blink at him, awaiting his reply.
His lips part, but whatever he meant to say stalls there. He waves a hand at the place setting. “You should know these things, even if you’re not meant to utilize them. But Brujon, I didn’t give you permission to punish her. Any punishments she receives will be of my own devising. And far more imaginative.”
The old human huffs in disgust and shuffles off.
“You, come with me.” He turns and walks without checking to see if I follow.
The skirts of my modest gown rustle against the floor as I hurry to catch up to him. The dress is deep blue velvet, sprinkled with blinding diamond stars, with buttons up the high collar and at the wrists of the tight sleeves.
“Why are you dressed like a Librarian of Avalon?” he asks, still not looking at me.
“I’m not familiar with the fashion customs of Avalon, Guardian. I thought I would look studious for my lessons today.” And I didn’t particularly want to dress the way I had for dinner last night for instruction with Brujon.
“What a happy coincidence; I’ve adopted a more professorial attitude.” He takes me down a hallway and pushes open a door.
It’s a library, with shelves so tall, ladders lead to balconies for access. I’ve never seen so many books, nor such beautiful ceilings. Faeries and sylphs wind through a twilight sky over our heads, wings and clouds and diaphanous garments fluttering in enchanted paint.
We walk toward a massive fireplace, flames crackling in its hearth. Before it, where I would have perhaps placed some chairs for reading and a cart for cozy tea, is a long, narrow table, upon which lies the faery I saw in the garden the day before. His arms are stretched above his head, bound to the corners of the table, as are his splayed legs.
He’s completely nude.
“Yesterday, you learned about anatomy that is familiar to you. Today’s lesson requires me to take a more hands-on approach.” Luthian stands beside the table and glides one finger down the faery’s perspiring chest, all the way to his thick cock, hard and straining for touch. Luthian stops just short of contact, though.
“This is Firo. Another of my students,” Luthian says casually.
I didn’t realize he had other students. I don’t like it. I certainly don’t like that I don’t like it. I temper my expression as I examine the faery laid out before me.
Rather than succumb to petty jealousy, I use the moment to learn. With Sarta, it was easy enough. We have all the same components. While I saw Luthian pleasuring himself the day before, and the faery in the audience my first night, I’ve never had an opportunity to become so thoroughly acquainted with a body that’s different from mine. Where I am all softness and curves, this faery is lean and tightly muscled. His skin gleams like warm flame through smokey quartz.
“Faeries don’t seem to have body hair,” I muse aloud.
“Good observation,” Luthian says. To the panting, writhing Firo, he notes, “Cenere is a human. Today, you’ll help her to learn exactly how to pleasure a body like yours.”
“And what will I learn?” Firo asks.
He does not use a title to address Luthian, the way I must.
Luthian doesn’t correct him, either. “You will learn endurance. I told you that this lesson would be long, and you would not enjoy it.”
With a cruel sneer, Luthian leans down and places a gentle kiss on Firo’s sweating brow. My guardian straightens and tells me, “I’ve gotten him started for you. We’ve been up since dawn, haven’t we, Firo?”
Firo doesn’t answer.
Luthian trails his fingertips down Firo’s face, his neck, over his chest again, but this time he brushes over the tip of Firo’s cock, too. It’s as if Luthian has struck him. The poor, bound faery hisses and jerks up, but the bonds hold tightly and Firo gives up with a sob of defeat.
“You see? Only a few hours of this...” Luthian curls his hand around Firo’s cock and gives it a few slow strokes. “And he’s already mindless with need.”
Luthian takes my hand and brings it to join his. Firo’s flesh is burning hot and unyielding beneath my fingers, and the groan the faery makes stirs me at my very core.
“Firo, if I asked you for anything right now, you would grant it to me, would you not?” Luthian asks him.
The faery hesitates.
“If I asked you to trade your kingdom just to be allowed to come, you would give it to me?” Luthian clarifies.
“If I had a kingdom,” Firo replies. “You know I have none. Please, just let me... ah!”
His hips jerk and Luthian pulls both our hands away.
“Too close,” Luthian explains. “He’s been nearly ready to spill for hours now. Pleading. Crying, sometimes.”
I believe him, because Firo squeezes his eyes shut at the denial and bangs his head against the table. “Please! I’m almost there!”
“We’ll give him a moment to cool down before we try that again.” Luthian sighs. “I fear I may have kept him too long at the precipice. He’s so sensitive now, he won’t be able to withstand much more.”
“You’re too good a tutor,” Firo says through gritted teeth.
I agree with him on that score, having been just as mindless and wild myself.
“Cenere is fully aware of my capabilities. Are you not?” Luthian asks, arching a brow.
I nod. “Yes, Guardian.”
“And you plead more prettily,” he says. “I believe you were actually in tears before I rewarded you.”
I can’t disguise my puzzled frown.
“When I allowed you to have all of the climaxes I held back from you,” he reminds me, as if wounded that I forgot.
I did not forget. “I thought that was a punishment, Guardian.”
It’s the correct answer, I think, because he smiles at me. “Is torture a punishment? Or is it a gateway to greater pleasure?”
I don’t have an answer.
“That is the lesson you’ll learn today. Both of you. Firo, you’re happy enough to inflict suffering, but you have yet to learn to accept it. Cenere is too gentle, too innocent to properly torment someone.” He addresses me. “How would you make him suffer, Cenere? What, do you believe, would be the most unbearable pain in this moment?”
“I...” My imagination stalls. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but as Luthian has reminded me, torment is as crucial as pleasure in the court. “I suppose one could use implements of torture. Pincers. Branding. Piercing, as you subjected me to.” I cannot push a needle through Firo’s flesh. I nearly gag at the thought.
“That is an idea. Wonderful job.” Luthian’s praise is as effective as a tongue against my clit and I squeeze my thighs together. “Those are excellent physical punishments. And his cock would look so pretty with a piece of jewelry. Perhaps one to match yours. Show him.”
I obediently ruck up my skirts to display my bare lower half. Luthian uses two fingers to part me, to reveal the ring through my hood. Firo’s eyes boggle at the sight.
“I think I will give you one,” Luthian muses, touching the dripping slit at the tip of Firo’s cock. “Through here, perhaps, and out the top.”
Firo whimpers. I don’t know if it’s from fear or the desperation of his arousal.
“If I let you come, you’ll allow me to do that to you?” Luthian asks him.
“Anything,” Firo agrees with a sob. “Please, anything.”
“Guardian, are you using your magic to stop him from climaxing?” I ask.
“No. What I’m teaching him is a bit more advanced. He must fight his body, resist everything in him that screams out for release. He knows there will be a punishment if he comes without permission,” Luthian tells me. “You’ll learn to do the same, in time.”
I do not look forward to such a lesson.
“You’ve considered physical pain,” he goes on. “What about torment of the mind. When you were in such a state, what maddened you most?”
I think of Sarta’s cunt bathing my mouth, my chin, hearing her wail as her thighs shuddered against my cheeks. “Seeing someone else granted such a release, Guardian.”
“You’re learning fast.” Luthian begins to work the laces of his breeches. “Time for another lesson. Get on your knees.”
I glance to Firo, who has resorted to staring at the ceiling.
“You’re going to suck my cock,” Luthian tells me. “And if he doesn’t watch, he’ll receive twenty lashes. Do you understand, Firo?”
The bound faery faces us, grim resolve written on his features.
I drop to my knees before Luthian.
A smile slowly spreads across his face as he gazes down at me and frees his cock. He’s not quite erect, and he strokes himself as he looks down at me.
“Should I undress, Guardian?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. I rather enjoy the modesty, now. It will be a pleasant contrast when I come in your mouth.”
I wet my lips, my chest rising and falling in anticipation as he readies himself for me.
“Are you watching, Firo?” Luthian asks.
“Yes,” comes the strangled answer, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Luthian to confirm it. For his part, Luthian doesn’t look away, either.
“She’s never done this before,” he tells Firo. “I will be the first to penetrate that sweet mouth. To fuck that gorgeous face.”
He talks about me like I’m an object. Like I’m not there, right in front of them both, hearing every word.
It’s painfully arousing.
Luthian brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, then pushes the tip inside. “Remember how you teased Sarta yesterday with your tongue? Those light touches, initially?”
“Yes, Guardian.”
“That’s a good place to start.” Fully hard now, he replaces his thumb with his cock. He holds himself for me, and I consider how best to demonstrate my skills. Teasing? I think I know a bit about that, by now. So, I move his hand aside and wrap my fingers around the thick column of flesh as much as I can.
Then, I do nothing. I hold him, barely touching him to my parted mouth. I let my breath cascade over him, brush him accidentally with my tongue as I wet my lips again. He takes a deep inhale, and I know I’m succeeding at my task. I slowly move my head side to side, catch the ridge of skin around him and hold it for the briefest of moments.
He shudders, but when he speaks, he maintains his unaffected tone. “She’s a natural, really. Oh, Firo, if you could feel this, you wouldn’t be able to hold back. You’d bathe her pretty face in your cum before she even took you into her mouth.”
Firo makes a guttural noise of despair.
“Perhaps I’ll have her finish you this way,” Luthian muses, and Firo makes another pitiable sound.
I want Luthian’s attention back. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed to know that I’m not his only student, but now I want to be his favorite student, the best of all of them, however many our number may be. So, I lick my lips again and apply a sucking kiss to his pulsing tip. His hand falls to the back of my head, which I take as a sign of approval. I do it again and again, until his cock leaps to meet each one, until I hear his breath quicken.
Then, I open wide and take only the head of him past my lips, curling my tongue back so there is no contact. I have him in my mouth, where he so desperately wants to be, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of sensation.
I hold his gaze with mine, gratified by his expression of pride.
Then, slowly, I uncurl my tongue and sweep it around him.
He groans, hips jerking forward as surprise widens his eyes.
“You’ve never done this before?” he asks, with a tone that suggests he doesn’t believe me.
I give the smallest shake of my head, still twisting my tongue around his flesh. There is no flavor to him, none of the delicious saltiness of Sarta. That’s a bit disappointing. I quite enjoyed the way her soft cunt spread open over my nose and mouth, the inviting scent of her. Sucking a cock isn’t as interesting.
It could be the disinterest that I assume Luthian is feigning. “She does have a wickedly talented tongue, Firo. If only you could feel it. So warm and wet, and such instinct. Though, I do wonder how much she can take. Open wider, Cenere.”
I do as he says and he pushes deeper to the back of my throat. I want to gag, but not wishing to humiliate myself by vomiting, I force myself to relax, to ignore the panic in my head at the realization that the further he goes, the less I can breathe, the harder it is to keep myself from choking. My eyes water, but still, I hold his gaze, hoping he sees how hard I’m trying, how I want to please him.
He withdraws slowly, and I do choke, a little, a stream of saliva pouring from the corner of my mouth. But he doesn’t seem angered. If anything, the flesh in my hand throbs more ardently. He enters my mouth again, slowly, withdraws, picking up speed, his fingers twisting in my hair to hold me still. I try to use my tongue, and he rewards me with a groan.
“I’m in practically to the root,” he tells Firo. “The back of her throat milks me as she chokes. It’s truly extraordinary to watch her, isn’t it? On her knees, taking my cock so obediently. Take notes, for I’ll prevail upon you, as well.”
“I’ll do anything,” Firo gasps. “Please, just let me—”
“Begging doesn’t become you,” Luthian admonishes him. “Close your lips around me, Cenere. You’re doing such a good job. Use your tongue. That’s it. Good girl.”
My clit aches with need. My hand strays to my lap, but my skirts are in the way.
“Not without my permission,” Luthian warns, and though a barrier prevents me from touching myself, I move my hand away.
I haven’t forgotten his threat from last night.
“I’m not going to be gentle with you anymore, Cenere,” he tells me. “There will be many times that your exquisite tongue will be put to use for languid hours, but you’ll also be called upon to endure roughness. Like this.”
His grip tightens on my head, and he forces me forward as he drives his cock in hard. There is no way to stop myself from gagging, no way to avoid choking mouthfuls of drool as he pummels the back of my throat again and again. I whimper, raise my hands to try to stop him, then catch myself. I want to be here. I asked to be here. I agreed to be here. My wishes, my goal, my revenge is on the line.
I will not disappoint myself.
I stare into his eyes. Not defiant. Not afraid. I stare into his eyes with gratitude and admiration, and they widen in shock. His lips part. He makes a noise that’s almost despair, almost rapture. A burst of salt and wet heat strikes my throat, and he pulls out of my mouth to pump sticky slashes across my face.
He grabs me, hauls me to my feet, and for a moment, I’m terrified that I’ve done something very wrong. I feel the chains around my wrists in a cold dungeon cell. I know that I am condemned to die a screaming, agonizing, but not painful death.
But he’s not angry. He laughs as he forces my head down, bringing my face close to Firo’s. A glob of pearly white falls from my cheek and onto his.
“Now, Firo,” Luthian says, breathless. “Clean her up.”