Chapter 16 - Head
XVI Head
“Perfect,” Magnar says, his hand already slipping into the slit in my skirts, then fumbling within until he gets Raduna’s underpants and mine untied.
He’s slumped low over me, his tall body caging me in so he can reach. I gasp. His hand is warm and very purposeful, and I shiver when he brushes my curls, his fingers seeking, parting until they press to where I’m swollen and hot.
“Oh, darling,” he breathes, gently exploring my tingling flesh. “So wet for me. Do you secretly enjoy it then, to have me so hard-up for you? Does it turn you on?”
“I think so,” I confess, my voice breathy, quiet. “I suspect what those words mean, though I’m not sure. People always spoke gently around me.”
“Are you aroused because of your husband’s lust, pet? Is that clearer?”
A sound escapes me, a soft moan, when his blunt-clawed finger circles a very sensitive spot between my thighs.
I’m spread open with my legs astride, and it’s suddenly unbearable.
Sensations climb higher, gripping me, and the intensity quickly grows unpleasant.
I huff with displeasure, trying to squirm away, and Magnar’s stroking gentles.
His fingers roam further away from the spot, and I sigh in relief.
“Talk to me, pet. That was too much, wasn’t it?”
“Y-yes, I think,” I admit. “But I don’t know what I like. I… I liked it… when Khay did it. But it was very short. Not enough.”
I wonder if Magnar will get angry, but he obviously knows about the bath, because he only hums, the gentle touch of his fingers focusing on a spot radiating pleasure with no bite of pain this time.
We ride at a gentle trot, but it’s jarring enough to make Magnar’s finger slide onto the more sensitive part, his touch way too hard.
I suck in a breath, jolting from discomfort.
“Oh fuck,” he hisses, pulling his hand back. “That won’t do. I’m too cocky, that’s my problem. Thinking I can make my virgin queen come while riding. We’ll have to lower our expectations, pet.”
His hand slides out, and I sigh in disappointment. Magnar straightens in the saddle and calls out to the riders on either side of us.
“Ten minute break, men! Circle formation, don’t dismount. On guard.”
“What!” I hiss, my face instantly heating as I watch the riders spread in a large circle around us, facing away. “Now they’ll know we’re doing something! And right in the open!”
“I’ll tell them I was reciting you poetry,” Magnar says, then clicks his tongue a few times. “Stay. Good horse.”
“That’s what you did to me back then,” I whisper, outraged yet also smug that I knew what it was. “I told you I’m not a horse.”
“A fact that most excites me, darling. Will you please focus? I desperately want to get you off, and I only gave myself ten minutes. If I fail, we’ll both be upset.”
I shake my head, confused by his vehemence. The horse stays in place, calm and obedient, and Magnar dives back under my skirts, bending low around me. He finds the sensitive spot, then moves to the side and rubs. I keen a soft moan of surprise and pleasure, and he chuckles under his breath.
“No one will believe my lousy poetry lies if you make those sounds, pet. Hold the reins.”
His gloved hand presses to my mouth. I gasp into it, shocked and instantly a thousand times hotter.
“You can scream now. I hope you will. So, you said you don’t know what you like, hm? Let’s find out together. I already know you don’t like direct touch on your clit, at least not at first. But this seems to work. Let’s see now.”
He moves his finger, stopping it in the most sensitive place, though he only presses down gently. “This is your clit, pet. Did you know the name?”
I shake my head with a breathy sigh, and he pulls his hand away from my mouth. “I learned about mating from animal husbandry books. They didn’t go into much detail.”
Magnar shakes, and I realize he’s laughing and trying to hide it. I shrug, a bit ashamed about how uneducated I am. “A princess doesn’t need to know these things. Apparently.”
“Mhm, but you were very studious, weren’t you? Learning all you could about sex even though it was probably forbidden. Such a curious girl.” He sounds like he’s smiling as his fingers slide lower down my clit. He does something, his finger pressing in, and I gasp. He covers my mouth again.
“And if I pull back the little hood, that’s where sensation is the most intense, pet, but we won’t do that right now. I’m just showing you what we’ll explore at length during our honeymoon. This feels extremely good when it’s sucked. Well, not today. Now, the other side.”
His fingers glide left, rubbing my clit from that side. I huff into his hand, my hips trying to buck. Yes, this feels good. Magnar hums in satisfaction and keeps on rubbing slow, delicious circles before his fingers dip lower, circling my opening. His breath hitches.
“So fucking wet,” he purrs. “Beautiful, perfect queen. So obedient, aren’t you, pet? I told you I wanted a willing cunt, and look at you, so hot and eager. How well you please your husband.”
His wet fingers return to the spot he rubbed earlier, now moving so much more easily in the slick. I buck and keen into his hand, ridiculously embarrassed and aroused by his words. They feel shameful, yet aren’t, because he’s so clearly pleased with me.
My flesh throbs under his touch, as if wanting to leap into his hand. Heat builds in my lower belly, a boiling, squeezing tightness. I breathe in the scent of leather from his glove, and that stokes my senses higher until I can’t hold back pleading sounds for more, for something.
“There you go,” Magnar murmurs, so very smug.
“I’ll give myself a medal for this and only tell the knights.
Our dirty inside joke. It will be a lily that looks like a cunt, and I’ll wear it proudly.
Got my beautiful wife off on a horse. You’re the real prize, you know, pet?
All those wars, all those conquests were for you. So I could have you.”
His touch grows faster, smoother, and I keep trying to move my hips, but Magnar presses me to him with unyielding strength. The horse stays calm and still, and I whine into the glove, the world slipping away. It would be terrifying if it wasn’t so magnificent.
“How sweet you are,” Magnar sighs, his voice husky. “It’s all right, pet. You can let go. I’ll hold you. I’m right here, and I won’t let you fall. My lovely queen. You can take it all now. It’s all right. Take your due, my queen, my beautiful, lovely, perfect Caliane.”
The world breaks apart as my body seizes in a burst of pleasure so bright, it wipes out all else.
I scream until my throat is raw, letting out that roar I held back earlier, letting out countless screams and pleas that were never heard, never honored.
True to his word, Magnar holds me through it until I fall limp and exhausted against him, fat, unstoppable tears streaming down my face.
I shake and cry, shake and cry, and he holds me tighter and tighter, murmuring sweet words of comfort. Here it is, me grieving, at last.
Except, it’s not my father I mourn. It’s me, the girl I used to be, so ill-used, so wrongly loved. I cry for her, for how wretched she was.
“Shh, pet. It’s all right. I’m right here. Cry all you want.”
As if from afar, I hear the sounds of hoofbeats splashing in the wet earth. Three riders approach, and I close my eyes with a whimper of misery, refusing to be seen in so undignified a state. Magnar squeezes me tighter.
“It’s only our knights. Don’t worry.”
“What the fuck did you make her cry for?” Khay shouts, outraged. “What did you do?”
I want to shake my head, tell them it’s not Magnar’s fault, but my body is loose and helpless, as if I’ve spent all the tension holding me up in one go. Magnar doesn’t need my help, anyway.
“Sometimes, a queen needs to cry,” he says evenly. “She’s been through a lot, Khay. Let’s ride.”
We set out slowly at first. Magnar bows low to hold me close, which can’t be comfortable for him, but he doesn’t complain, and I don’t have the strength to speak. My eyes fall shut, and the gentle rocking lulls me to sleep.
The day passes in a drowsy stupor, my body weak, my thoughts muddied and fearful. I avoid thinking about anything important, because it feels like my very mind is filled with traps.
Take four.
Bad daughter.
Head on a spike.
Beautiful, lovely, perfect Caliane.
Come to Daddy.
As soon as a sharp, unwelcome thought drifts close to the surface, I redirect my attention to the soaked landscape, Magnar’s even breathing, or whatever else is happening around me. We don’t speak. It seems like he’s giving me space after my pitiful emotional display.
But as another castle belonging to an Agnidari nobleman looms in the rainy gloaming, I make up my mind. I will disarm at least one of the dangerous thoughts and put it to rest.
“I changed my mind,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“What about, dear?”
“I want him dug out, his body dragged by wild animals, and his head on a spike in the courtyard of the Farneer royal castle. Dead or not, I want him to see all the Agnidari ruling in his stead. I want him to know he lost.”
Magnar hums softly, slowing down, even though his soldiers talk about how eager they are to be indoors after the wet, cold day.
“As you wish. Will you tell me what he did?” Magnar asks softly, his voice so very gentle, so encouraging.
I shake my head. Never. He can’t know my shame, how defiled I am, how hideous.
“Maybe some other time, then,” he says lightly, urging his horse into a faster trot. “Nadreg will have a feast ready, and I had the foresight to tell him we might need a dress for you. Let Khay pamper you in the bath, hm? You earned it.”
I scoff, feeling as gloomy as the gray, heavy sky above us. “I did nothing to earn good things.”