Chapter Thirteen
Time moved strangely through the next few weeks. It seemed to me, for a while, that I would be an ancient hag before we left for the Court of Pleasure and Torment. Now, though, I have the way of things. I rise in the morning and take my breakfast, usually with some wicked pleasure that Luthian has dreamed up. Then, it’s to my lessons. The afternoon is almost always concentrated on pain and endurance, but dinner and after is a time for all manner of sensual delights. Then, when the moon is high, I bathe and slink exhausted between the covers to start all over again the next day.
“I have a surprise for you.”
I’m seated on Luthian’s lap, eating the most sumptuous little roasted mushrooms he feeds me by hand. His dressing gown cannot disguise the leap of his cock against me when he says the words.
I notice that more now, too; his arousal in the early days always seemed perfunctory, a tool to be employed in teaching. Now, it is automatic; he genuinely wants me. I never mention it, as I don’t think he’ll like that I noticed.
I lift my brows as I swallow my last bite. “What have I done to earn a surprise?”
“You’ve been a very good student.” He pauses. “And it’s another lesson.”
I want to scowl. I pout instead. Pouting, he’s taught me, is playful and attractive, and often more effective than a frown.
He taps the end of my nose with his finger. “You’ll enjoy it. And it’s easy. Firo will do most of the work.”
I squeeze my thighs together. “I do love watching you work with Firo.”
“I knew you would. Are you still hungry?”
I shake my head.
He lifts his goblet of wine and presses it to my lips for a final drink. “Now, run along to your bedroom. Firo and I will be up soon.”
As I walk to my room, my mind spins. Firo has never been in my bedroom. We’ve always had our lessons in the library or the study. Once, in the garden.
But never my room.
I enter as Brujon leaves. I still haven’t discovered why she’s there or what her purpose is, when Luthian can run the entire household on magic. Even the brooms here are enchanted to sweep on their own.
“Good evening, Brujon,” I say with a courteous nod.
She mutters under her breath and bustles out.
My bathtub stands before the fire, as always. I almost call her back to tell her that my lessons aren’t finished for the day. Then I realize that the white foam on the surface isn’t a fluffy cloud of bubbles as it usually is.
Pearls.
The bathtub is filled with pearls.
I clap my hands in delight and drop to my knees beside the tub. The glimmering spheres are of a uniform, vibrant white, but not uniform in size; there are some so small, they could fit on the tiniest ring for the most diminutive pixie, and some so large, I dread the thought of the oyster they’d been harvested from. I dip my hand into them and relish the satiny feeling. I’ve become far more observant of sensation in my time with Luthian. We’ve had lessons to train me in that, too. I sat blindfolded in his study while he touched me with all manner of objects and quizzed me as to what they were made of and how they felt on—and inside of—my body.
I’m a different person now than the night I ran to the cenere tree and watered its roots with my tears. I was innocent then. My thoughts would not have turned, upon seeing a bathtub full of pearls, to how they might feel against my throat, my breasts, my thighs. But they do, and I assume that’s the point. I quickly strip off my gown and drop it to the floor, where it vanishes, banished to the pages of the book once more.
My toes have only just touched the surface when the door opens and Luthian enters, followed by Firo. Luthian is still in his dressing gown, but Firo has been marched here nude and coated in shining oil.
Luthian grins at my nakedness, my foot poised to step into the tub. “I see you understood the purpose of my gift.”
“I guessed at it, Guardian.”
“Go on, then. Climb in.”
My breath catches as my toes break the surface. It feels better than I imagined it would, the smooth, satiny spheres rolling over every inch of my exposed skin. I find the bottom of the tub, nudging pearls out of the way so I don’t tumble, then step fully inside.
“While you were having your supper, Firo was being tended by some of my pets.” Luthian strokes Firo’s hair gently. “Tell her.”
Firo swallows thickly, his eyes trained on my naked body as I lower myself into the pearls. I gasp when they touch my intimate flesh, and he looks almost pained. “A pile of writhing vines.”
“Cenere knows all about my vines,” Luthian sing-songs as he moves about the room extinguishing candles with two fingers. I’ve long ago stopped asking him why he does things physically that he could do with magic; the answer is always “style.”
I squint, examining Firo’s skin. “I see no blood, no pricks or scratches, Guardian.”
“No thorns,” Luthian says. “It was a different type of training.”
My core floods with excitement at the scenarios that fill my mind.
“It was a rather intense session of denial.” The words are tight leaving Firo’s mouth. I know that of all the exercises, edging is the one he dislikes most.
It also means that he’s desperate now, craving release.
Once, Luthian immobilized Firo and I with magic, barely a breath apart, so close we could feel the heat of each other’s bodies, and tortured us with denial from dawn to nightfall, until we were both sobbing and begging and wild with lust. If Firo could have, he confessed later, he would have thrown me to the ground and fucked me so hard, we would have shattered the floor.
But after Luthian finished him off with mouth and deviously placed fingers, Firo was too exhausted to even remove himself from the study.
Luthian drops his dressing gown, revealing every inch of his blue-gray skin. His muscles ripple, feline and graceful, as he prowls a circle around my suffering companion. “We’re celebrating tonight, Cenere. Firo has completed his training and in the morning, he’ll leave for court.”
My stomach drops. Firo and I don’t know each other well; we are rarely in a position to speak alone and usually see each other only at lessons. But I hoped we could become allies, as he said in the garden. I expected that we would go to court at the same time, though I don’t know where that expectation came from. Now, I will go alone, be alone, with no guarantee that our shared experience will unite us in purpose.
He can’t be united in your purpose , I remind myself. Your purpose requires the assassination of the king, the seduction of a prince.
It’s one thing for Firo to know my motivation. It’s another entirely for an ambassador to the court to know the details of the plan.
I swallow down my disappointment and fix my expression to reveal none of it.
“Shall we give him the send-off he deserves, honey flower?” Luthian asks, stroking himself to hardness.
“Give me what I’ve waited for.” Firo laughs breathlessly. “I’ll be happy with that.”
“I’ll do better than that.” Luthian gestures to me. “I’m going to give you Cenere.”
My most intimate part clenches and I almost moan aloud. I’ve experienced the vines. Luthian has used all manner of wicked objects in me. But this is completely new, and I do desire Firo. Who would not? His skin like smoke-stained amber, the hard-etched lines of his lean body, the smoldering fire in his faery eyes.
“First, though, a treat for my lovely honey flower.” Luthian points to the floor beside the tub. “Firo. On your knees.”
When Firo steps closer, I see clearer that the sheen on his body is not oil, but drying sweat. I want to taste it. But I wasn’t given permission to leave the tub, so I recline against the tall back and rest my arms on the sides. Even the slightest movement shifts the pearls all around me; a few slip between my folds to meet my own pearl, hard and insistent, nestled in its slick setting.
Luthian touches the head of his cock to Firo’s lips. “Open.”
Firo obeys. They’re close enough that I miss no detail. The slippery shine of Firo’s saliva on Luthian’s blue-flushed skin. The pink of Firo’s tongue darting out below Luthian’s shaft in a movement that makes my Guardian’s back go straight, his eyes pinch.
“He is exceptionally skilled,” Luthian tells me when he finds himself again. “But you knew that.”
“Yes, Guardian.” I knew it well, for Luthian had once bound my legs open wide for Firo to feast between them until I screamed and begged for the pleasure to stop.
With a deep, shuddering inhale, Luthian tips his head back and surrenders to that singular talent, but moans, “Touch yourself, Cenere.”
I scoop up a handful of the pearls and let them fall over my exposed breasts, shivering as they roll down. I take another and this time use the flat of my hand to rub them over my skin, as if soaping myself in a real bath. I do this again and again, while Luthian and Firo both steal glances. I smooth another handful over my throat, down again to play against my taut nipples. I writhe my hips beneath the surface, and the pearls at my center roll and gently pinch my labia and clit.
“Put them inside,” Luthian commands, as if he sees what’s happening beneath my legs.
I work my hand into the mass of spheres and sweep a handful to my core, where I ache with emptiness. It’s more unbearable now that I know I’ll be filled by the long, hard length of Firo’s cock. When I push the first of the pearls into my cunt, I clench down, thinking of how Firo’s cum will feel leaking out of me as I lie, spent, in my bed. I shove in more, and more, until it seems impossible that another will fit. Then, I push my finger inside.
I gasp.
Luthian’s mouth bends in an approving smile, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Make yourself come, honey flower.”
My other hand joins its twin, stroking my clit while the pearls inside me roll with every pump of my finger, teasing my inner walls. Now and then, a few slip from me, coated in my juices, and I push more into their place. I rock my hips and the pearls all around me move, caressing me with phantom hands. I slide down, draw up my knees and let them fall wide apart. The pearls aren’t enough; I crave Firo’s cock, now that I know I’ll have it. I push my finger deeper and another joins it, displacing more of the beads inside. My clit withdraws beneath my touch, my cunt clutches, body straining toward my impending release. I cry out at the pleasure, at the decadence of it all, and Luthian growls low his throat.
Pulling free from Firo’s mouth, Luthian turns and finishes himself with a few swift strokes of his own fist, erupting over my upturned face, my heaving breasts, my open mouth. He scoops up some of the pearls and rubs them into the puddles on my skin as I swallow his seed with a grateful smile. With a flick of his hand, the pearls melt, leaving me coated in an impossible amount of cum. For a moment, I’m stunned into silence, until a laugh burbles up my throat.
Luthian reaches into the silky fluid and finds my center. The pearls there have vanished, too, and he pushes his fingers in. I squeeze down on him, and the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “I think he’s waited long enough, Cenere. It’s time for Firo to have you.”
Luthian takes my hand to help me up. He doesn’t offer me a towel or to clean up any of the mess he’s made; slippery footprints trail me all the way to my bed, which I don’t care to lie on in this state.
I’ve done messier things in my time with them, I suppose, though I don’t relish the idea of sleeping in stiff, dried sheets.
Luthian doesn’t pull back the coverlet, which makes it a bit better. I slide across the silk with a giggle. The fluid on my skin hasn’t dried at all. Too bad it isn’t the ogre cum, I think. I quite enjoyed that .
I lie back and wait, watching the rise and jerking fall of Firo’s chest.
“I apologize for the mess she’s making,” Luthian tells him. “I just couldn’t bear to let you bathe her in yours without doing it first.”
I doubt that Firo’s raging, straining cock is too troubled by the thought. If anything, it flushes even darker.
“Come on, then.” Luthian opens my legs for Firo. “Hop in.”