15. Broken
Chapter 15
Broken
H er time with Tristien was coming to an end. Yet she had made a vow, and would return after visiting the final Lord of Summer. What would it be like for the haze Yet she alsoThere was a small degree of influence she held over him. She saw it sometimes when the whip changed hands. To bind a god to their bed, to tug his spurting cock into her hand while he whimpered filled her with a seed of something false. A seed that grew.
When the lash tagged her skin, she began to wonder how it would look on Tristien’s. She wanted to see him flex against bonds. To hogtie him.
Yet Tristien took control again, and the haze she felt began to deepen. It staunched the facets of her soul. She felt like a stone watching the river float by, only wetted by the splash of his attention.
Love didn’t grow in her any longer. If any portion of it had been there, it was stifled now. Stomped out. The only thing present was lust and a deeper need for degradation. She sought to see what she could do to herself, and what she could do to him. It was fixation. Sometimes after she arrived, she hated him. Hated his need for control and how it infected her.
Tristien had allowed generations of slavery. There were banners in her own realm who were rumored to have done the same. But the opulence of his and his nobles lifestyle was sickening when she thought of who had wrought it.
When she shut her eyes, she saw that little girl with the collar running through the yard.
No matter what lived inside her, she knew Tristien would not be her choice. Not if it was up to her. Yet, to free the people of this realm would mean so much to them. So she would take their shackles and wear them. She prayed to her mother that a child never took root in her own flesh.
There was a sickness he had created within her. Celestine still desired Tristien for what he could do to her, not for what he was.
If this resentment grows long enough, over the centuries, perhaps I’ll find a way to change things.
It was the clearest thought she had had in a long time. Celestine had earned her place in the Red Banners. It might take eternity, but she could find a way out. And if that path had to be carved in steel once she wed this god of summer, so be it.
Yet the sickness in her still grew. She found herself wondering how she could desire that which she detested, and that very question made her shudder with how illicit it was. When he was inside her, it was sweet poison. The shame of his words was nothing to the shame she now felt. When they dressed her in finery, it was like being coated in sin itself.
She stopped wearing the fine clothes, preferring the homespun tunics the bonded wore. Tristien didn’t seem to mind. It excited him, the reason behind it lost from the stiffening of his cock.
Sometimes in the parlor, they would sit, and he would instruct her on what to think about at that moment. Sculpting places, ideas, philosophies with his words.
In those moments, Celestine knew they were embarking on a very new and dangerous dominance over her, that he sought to control her very mind.
In the evenings, she was his to use as freely as she wanted. Sometimes, she woke with him already inside her, the strong and needful thrusts rocking her like a ship in deep chop. Her entire essence was for his satisfaction. Tristien sought nothing further, and she was grateful for that.
The use of her body was discussed, and she only turned him down once, when her blood was on her, giving him the sign of denied consent.
She saw Captain Aidric often. He appeared more and more as her time to declare a decision came towards an end. The urge to run to him and ask to be taken away was overwhelming, but she reminded herself what was at stake. If slavery ended here in this banner, and Tristien chose the seasons, it would vanish from her own realm as well.
The mirrored mask bothered her.
“Does he ever sleep? Does he stay within the castle?” Celestine asked Tristien one evening as he was lacing her bindings. What had once been exciting was now a raw need. Lately, it felt strange to be unbound in any way, like being nude.
“No one knows, nor do I care. The Mirrored Captain is a flicker, a reflection. Once we are wed, we shall not see him or his like again.”
“Whom does he serve?”
Tristien finished wrapping her ankles. He stepped back to the wall and hoisted her upwards, her wrists and legs moving in opposite directions. She became parallel with the floor, and Tristien walked under her, looking up and guiding her chin so they stared at one another.
“Not all are fortunate enough to serve.”
One thing did linger for her. She had to court every Lord of Summer. She had to leave. Would she have the fortitude to return here? To free those in chains?
“Azure is a good Lord,” Tristien spoke to her one morning over breakfast. “And honorable. He will not force himself on you. A single evening in his realm should suffice, and then Aidric will take you to Calendar. You will declare yourself to me, and we shall return. I will have all the preparations complete for our wedding.” He fed her another spoonful of food. Then dabbed her mouth. “You have never seen anything like it. It will be the greatest celebration.”
Celestine smiled, then swallowed. “I want Lady Lapis to help, and the others.”
“As you wish. Do not worry. At the reception here, I will declare your grand gift. Bondage will be outlawed forever.”
“I see now it is a cruel practice,” Tristien said as he cut up the meat on her plate.
It was likely the first time he had lied to her. Celestine knew it. A demigod did not feel like normal people did, even in his own realm.
Like her changing feelings for him, mixed now with resentment and need to hurt him, she cared what he did, not what he felt or believed. Their union was one of sick need. The need to bind, to be bound. To punish, heal, and then reopen those same wounds.
One lingering fixation continued to grow within her.Power, control, authority, these things were powerful aphrodisiacs. She found herself thinking of Lady Mira more and more. Thinking of her unashamed lust for both sex and power. What was it like to have a barracks full of men serve you?
She wanted to whip Tristien. To flog him. Tie him. Put her ribbon tether on his manhood again. When he was tormenting her, her body writhing with the lightning of his mouth’s attention, she fantasized about flaying him until he died under her lash, only to see him heal again.
Thus this sickness grows, too enticing to even think of stopping its spread.
They were joined now. Their bodies were freely accessible to one another. Sometimes, she woke in the night, and Tristien’s eyes would flutter open as she lowered herself onto him, riding him, using him like the piece of meat he was. It was one thing to be tormented by a Season, another to bring her own cruel lust onto him.
Tristien allowed this, and one night, she tied his arms and legs and left him. He fell asleep as she crept.
I seek deeper wounds. My feet carry me without even a second’s hesitation.
She walked stiffly. Tristien was asleep, a rare enough activity. As their nightly festivities continued, they slept little, choosing instead to fuck several times, sometimes one after another. Her shaved quim craved him. The lash began to dull on her flesh. The flog did not have the same thump. She needed more. Wanted more.
In the room denied to her, she disobeyed him. When she took his circlet into her hands, the feeling of intensity ran through her arms as if it was trying to bind itself onto her.
The circlet was gold and yellow jewels. It was the finest thing she had ever seen. What had wrought it, she didn’t know, but she knew which head it needed to crown.
Tristien was resting in his bindings, his cock semi-hard, beautiful in the moonlight from the window. Celestine’s quim dripped with lust. What she was doing was beyond forbidden, but she cared little. She invited the repercussions. The punishment for this would be severe. Superb.
She covered his eyes with yellow silk, tying it tightly. As she sucked his cock, the circlet on the bed beside them, he groaned as he woke. It felt criminal, like how a thief must feel, as she hurried to mount him. He moaned her name, and she steadied herself on his girth.
He always stretched her, no matter how often they coupled. She would not have it any other way.
“Wake, my love.” Celestine whispered as she took more and more of him, the pain and pleasure wondrous but not as wondrous as the crime she was committing nor the offense she planned to.
“The Final Bride grows hungrier by the day,” Tristien smiled in his blindfold, and then he leaned back. “Yes, ride me.”
“Shhh…” Celestine rocked back and forth, reaching back and spreading herself, feeling the wetness of her lust and the previous joining they had less than an hour ago. “I would know my future husband in full.”
“Yes…my Lady.”
“Lean forward,” Celestine picked up her pace, bouncing, fucking him, powerless beneath her.
Tristien brought his head forward, the bindings behind him denying his movement. He pursed his lips for a kiss.
“I would know you fully.” Celestine gently picked up the circlet, and in one strong, quick movement, riding him, her abdomen clenching, she slipped the circlet on his brow.
“No!” Tristien shouted.
Celestine groaned, feeling electricity dance through her body. The circlet glowed, a yellow haze circling it once it touched his brow. He began to change, to morph under and inside of her. He grew larger, transforming inside her.
It was stunning to see his true form. His skin danced, sparkled, as if he were wrought of knitted white gold. She huffed, climaxing on his growing size, and again, it was as if an avalanche was falling upon her flesh. Everything felt wondrous. Controlled. Sure of itself.
Tristien’s eyes flashed open, blazing yellow. Celestine rode him, her body working to the brink of climax after climax.
“Give it to me.” Celestine’s eyes rolled upwards. She had bound a living deity, a demigod, and he was hers to command, to use.
The bindings snapped as if they had been paper. Tristien emanated power. Yellow glowing eyes flashed. A hand clamped around her throat, her body trembled, and in her foolish greed, she continued to ride him. She would know the wonders of his true form despite this betrayal and grim offense.
Celestine shrieked out as she was wrenched off of him. They flew from the bed. She was on the floor. His hand clamped around her neck, choking the life out of her.
Tristien stared down at her with nothing but contempt. She was a small creature under his control. A speck.
Her breath beat at the door of her lungs and throat, but they wouldn’t budge.
“Tristien,” she managed to croak the words.
But he didn’t let go of her throat, and she realized he might have never worn his circlet for this reason.
“My name,” he growled, the room feeling so dark now. The only light was his burning eyes on her. “Is Lord Solis to you.”