Swearing In #3
There’s a collective groan from the room around me, and I can’t help but laugh.
Their enjoyment is infectious, and even though I’m sure they’re rooting for me to fail, the defiant part of me enjoys proving them wrong.
All nerves about this enchantment have left me, leaving me feeling high in the grip of conspace.
It’s heady to be at the center of their enjoyment and entertainment, even if it’s stemming from my own struggle.
I continue my task with a renewed vigor, serving tea to each and every person.
I reach the man with the white streak and confirm his name is Patrik, while the large man next to him is Jonas.
I move on to Orabelle, then the quiet conjurer Hughes, who blushes so prettily as I kneel to offer him his cup.
Esra, who takes on any and all agricultural assignments.
Bastien, the fair-skinned noble who I think Cancassi said was related to the Duke of Frostcliff?
Or maybe that was someone else, it’s hard to keep up with all that Cancassi knows of the Crux’s residents.
No one else gets around quite like they do, but I force myself to refocus as I reach our newer recruit, a pale northern woman named Liria.
I serve tea to every last person before I return to Cancassi, my legs shaking as I sink to kneel beside them. My knees are going to be peppered with bruises tomorrow, but right now, the marks feel like a triumph. I pant for breath as Cancassi runs a hand over my hair.
“Well done, Gal.”
Their quiet praise fills me with warmth before they gently grab the nipple clamps. I shout as they pull them off, letting blood throb through my abused skin.
“But let’s make sure you remember everyone.”
They don’t relieve me of the arm binder yet, and I’m left to struggle back onto my shaking legs. I steady myself, face flushed, before I start my last loop around the circle.
I go the opposite direction this time, starting with the newest names. At first, it feels like I’m doing rather well. The names come to me quick, and I’m able to connect them easily with the faces in front of me. But I get less certain as I continue further around the circle.
When I reach the man with the dirty-blond hair, I pause. His smile is full of wicked mirth as he waits for me to name him.
“I promise, I won’t be offended if you’ve forgotten,” he says, and his accent holds that Immen influence that’s so present in people from Frostcliff. That helps his name click into place in my pleasure-fogged head.
“Bastien!” I say and the circle lets out a groan.
Every one of them is rooting for me to screw up, but I giddily make my way down the circle until I reach the man with the white streak in his hair.
I look between him and the man next to him, my mind drawing a blank on who is who.
Finally, I focus on the man with the streak and say, “Jonas?”
There are a few sympathetic oohs around the circle. “Fuck, no, you’re Patrik,” I say to the man with the white streak before looking at the big man seated next to him, “And you’re Jonas.”
“That’s two wrong, Galiva,” Cancassi chuckles.
I shudder before I continue around the circle.
Now, my confidence is shaken, and the prospect of what’s to come scatters my focus like dandelion seeds.
I completely forget one more person - the fierce-looking Rega - who doesn’t seem at all bothered by my lapse in memory.
Yet considering the circumstances, I feel rather accomplished in remembering so many.
My breath comes in short gasps as I finish the circle and come to stand beside Cancassi. A trail of wetness slides down the inside of my thigh.
“Alright,” I say before I look to the three people I forgot. “A promise is a promise. Patrik, Jonas, Rega - make sure I never forget your names again.”
My words are met with a cheer from the onlookers.
It makes my head swim, and even though I’m bracing for it, I still shout as Jonas grabs me around the waist. He’s built like a bear with a soft belly, but the strength in those arms makes me yelp as he lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
Yet he’s gentle as he takes me to the center of the room before setting me down. Rega and Patrik circle me before Rega’s lips capture mine. I whimper into the kiss as her tongue parts my lips, teeth nibbling my lower lip so tenderly that it makes my aching cunt clench.
A hand slaps against my ass, making me jump before I realize it’s Jonas. Gods, but feeling how large his palm is against my cheek makes me wonder how big the rest of him is.
“What do you think, Jonas?” Patrik asks. “I know you’re an ass man.”
“I don’t want to be the guy who gets a reputation for breaking the Grandmaster,” Jonas rumbles, and my thoughts fizzle to a stop even as my question about his size is all but confirmed.
“Could take her mouth,” Patrik suggests.
Rega breaks our kiss just long enough to say, “But I want her mouth.” Something in her tone makes me think she will have it.
The contrast of such a tender kiss against such spoken filth makes me moan, mouth opening further to accept Rega’s plundering tongue.
With my arms still bound behind me, I can’t stop Rega from drawing me closer until my chest rests against hers.
She’s a tall woman, and she bears down on me until I sink to my knees, my abused nipples brushing the fabric of her pants.
She follows me to the ground, fingers sliding down my corset before they trail in between my legs.
“What an eager cunt,” Rega purrs. Her eyes are bright as she licks the taste of me from her fingers.
“Would expect nothing less from the Grandmaster,” Jonas says, his deep voice sounding by my ear.