The Proposal #2
I let out a small laugh as I sink back against the bed. It hurts in a distinctly good way, though it takes me a second to relax into the strange sensation. “Feels like the knots are being sucked straight out of my skin.”
“With how many you’ve collected this week, this is the only way I can think to get rid of them,” Bridgette mutters before she picks up another jar.
She repeats the process, swirling a bit of alcohol inside before she lights it.
This one suctions to my other shoulder, and my skin is drawn up into the slightly smaller cup.
It’s a sharper feeling, more concentrated.
Then Bridgette grabs the end of one jar and moves it, sliding it across my oiled shoulder.
It feels like it’s tugging my muscles loose before the airtight seal finally breaks. It wrings a throaty groan from me as I melt against the bed. It’s the type of pleasure that aches, a deeper massage than fingers can give.
“Do you want me to keep going?” Bridgette asks.
“Please,” I groan, burying my face against the sheets. This is exactly the type of pain I need. Focused, directed, helping me pinpoint each area I’m holding tension. I’m no evoker like Olbric, but the pain is grounding in a way I didn’t know I needed. It’s easy to lose myself in the feeling.
Bridgette wipes my back clean before she suctions another cup to my shoulder, then another just below. She affixes no less than six to me, three to each side of my back. It’s an intense feeling, pulling at every overly tight muscle, but I breathe through it as I fall into a pleasant fog.
I don’t know how long she leaves the cups on, but I do feel when she moves them, inching them over to draw up yet another section of tight muscle. It’s both a relief and a disappointment when the seals finally break to let her pull the cups off me.
“Roll onto your back.” Her quiet whisper makes my sensitized skin shiver.
I do as told, and there are spots of warmth on my back where the cups have left their marks.
Sinking against the bed is bliss, and I let out a quiet moan before Bridgette gently takes my hands.
The softest rope I’ve ever felt circles my wrists before she binds them to the headboard in a simple double column tie.
Then, she slides a few fresh focuses down my fingers.
I shiver as I watch her pour oil into the palm of her hand.
Her smile turns mischievous as she hikes up her skirts to straddle my thighs, pinning me gently as she starts to massage my chest and breasts.
Her fingers tickle across my stomach before moving further down.
It’s a slow sort of worship, one that makes every nerve come alight as her fingers massage more oil into my skin.
“Now that you know what to expect with the cups, can I put them other places?” Bridgette asks before her oil-slick fingers grab my nipples.
I bite my lip as I arch. “Trying to make some explosions?”
“I’m trying to make you cum until you’re too tired to think about tomorrow,” Bridgette says with a smirk.
I can’t help but laugh, but it quickly turns to a moan as Bridgette suctions a small cup over my nipple. She does the same to my other side until the points are swollen and throbbing under the glass.
Another cup suctions to my sides, and I squirm at the painful tickle. It makes the cups on my breasts sway, tugging at my skin. Bridgette shifts, moving to kneel between my legs before she spreads them with her knees. I gasp as she suctions two more cups to my inner thighs.
It’s a tender area, and my squirming makes the cup on my side pop off.
Underneath, a bruise like an ink stain makes a perfect circle on my skin.
I writhe gently on the bed, tugging lightly at the ropes around my wrists, though I have no desire to escape.
It’s fiery and sensual, and painful and pleasurable, and when Bridgette pulls the cup from one nipple, I arch with a gasp.
My skin throbs, but Bridgette is quick to soothe it with the cloth before she closes her mouth over the tender point.
My hands wrap around the soft ropes, even as I wish I was grabbing Bridgette’s silver hair.
The glass cups on my side clank together before the seal on one breaks with a wet sound.
It wrings a breathy giggle from me, but it’s chased by a moan as Bridgette’s hand trails between my legs.
She avoids the cups on my thighs and instead finds my heated cunt.
My head swims, and I spread my legs wider in invitation. She doesn’t accept. Yet. Instead, she teases me, just barely stroking my cunt as she breaks the seal on a cup on my thigh. The pain and release washes through me, making me squirm down just as her finger sinks into me.
I forget how many cups are still on me, my focus drawn entirely to the soft curl of her finger.
A second joins the first before she spreads them, mapping every inch of me as she strokes softly.
My body feels as hot as the matches she’s struck, and I smolder under her hand, squirming as she targets my sweet spot.
The last cup on my inner thigh releases with a wet pop, and I bite back a moan as the fresh bruise throbs.
“Are you alright?” Bridgette’s voice seems to reach me from very far away.
I’m more than alright. This is bliss.
“Yes,” I breathe even as I grind down onto her fingers in a silent plea.
She meets me, thrusting deep as she moves through the remaining cups, popping the seals on them one at a time. There are ones that have been attached for so long I’ve all but forgotten they were there. Blood rushes to the spots, the skin left darkened and sensitive in their wake.
Only then does Bridgette reach into her pocket and grab a buzzing focus. She brings it to my clit, and I’m lost. I’m already so heated, so on edge, that it doesn’t take more than a moment of vibration to send me toppling into bliss. I shout my pleasure, but Bridgette’s fingers never stop thrusting.
Every thought is wiped away. No worries, no doubts. Only pleasure and heat remain, but even still, Bridgette doesn’t stop. One peak shatters as it crashes into another, and I cry my release to the arched ceiling.
I’m left boneless and panting in the aftermath, my body covered in circular bruises.
But the tension in my back and shoulders is gone, replaced by a deep, pleasant ache.
Bridgette pulls her fingers free before she loosens the ropes from my wrists.
When I manage to peel an eye open, she’s smiling down at me.
She brushes a curl away from my forehead. “How do you feel?”
I let out a long breath as my thoughts trickle back in. But they’re more manageable now. Less... frightening than they felt before. “Better.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek before she settles in comfortably next to me. I rest my head against her chest, enjoying the feel of her fingers gently rubbing my scalp. For a moment, we just enjoy the quiet, the warmth of each other’s company.
The crackling of the fire in Arlon’s hearth is the only sound until Bridgette speaks again. “You’re going to have doubts, Gal. So many doubts. But remember that you asked for this position because you believed you can handle it. Keep trusting yourself.”
I sigh against her chest, my thoughts already moving back to what I’m up against tomorrow. “I will.”
PROVE THEM ALL WRONG, doldora.
I carry Arlon’s note in my pocket like a good-luck token as I enter the palace. My robe and masteries are on full display, and the sealed proposal is clenched tight in my hand.
I’m early, but even still, the Queen is already waiting for me. I’m not surprised. It seems to be a tactic she uses to catch people off their guard, but today, I feel ready for her.
“You have a full proposal?” Tramella asks, as imperious as ever.
“I do, Your Majesty.”
Tramella raises an eyebrow, as if she doubted I’d come through. Instead, I circle the long table to put the sealed vellum into her hands. She breaks the wax, and that immaculately plucked eyebrow is so firm it’s like she’s plastered it to her forehead.
“Our route to the Eastern Tower brought us through Laodeiros, where I had the privilege to visit a temple to Coition,” I say.
“Ah yes,” the Queen says. “I know of which you speak.”
There she goes again. Saying the perfect thing to catch me off guard.
“I noticed there’s no such presence in the capital for the goddess,” I say lightly. “Every major city west of the Nahran mountains has something to honor her, I think.”
The Queen shrugs, though she doesn’t look up from my proposal. “I’ve always considered the Crux to be an adequate effigy. Who needs a temple when your... busiest adherents live next door?”
I never thought about it quite like that, but I suppose she’s right. There’s no denying that magiline is as true of a divine offering from Coition as a storm swell is from Hadallis.
“Perhaps you’re right, Your Majesty,” I say with a smile.
“But there’s one thing the Crux doesn’t allow for.
The thing that struck me the most about the temple on Laodeiros is that there was no separation between the people with magic and the people without.
Everyone was allowed to experience the wonder of making it, even participate if they chose. ”
The Queen’s mouth pulls into a thin line. “There are no less than five operational brothels throughout the city, Grandmaster.”
I give a delicate laugh to hide my flash of frustration. It’s such a closed-minded view, but it’s one I'm used to hearing.
“You know of it, but did you visit the temple, Your Majesty?”
Something in my tone makes her eyes travel up to my face.
“No,” she says simply.
“It’s a shame,” I say with a grin. “Because conflating Coition’s temple to a brothel is like calling a dance hall an opera house. Neither are bad, per se, but one is certainly more of an experience.”
To my surprise, the Queen chuckles before she looks back at the vellum. “So, you’re going to create... an experience, is it?”