Chapter 8
KERIK
Perl disappears into his dressing chamber without a word about what he is to wear for the ball and leaves Kerik to finish his own outfit.
Although Kerik is not sure if the collection of items he is wearing and the last few on the table could truly be described so.
He looks down at the glittering cage that is meant to go around his cock.
He knows such things as this exist. Devices to preserve virtue.
Usually they are designed to cover the sex of maidens, but he has heard that some men who are devout in their worship of Zai use them also.
There is even a rumour that Emperor Selim wears a binding around his own cock under his robes.
But he has also heard that Selim cut his own cock off long ago as a mark of his devotion to Zai.
And also that he had simply not touched it for so long that it had withered away and he had not noticed.
Endrew had sworn this was true, claiming he had met a woman who knew the serving man who had found the remains of it lying on Selim’s bed chamber floor, little more than a scrap of grey skin.
Unlike the versions that exist in Azuria, this cage has no straps to hold it in place, just the piece shaped to cover Kerik’s cock.
But when he fits himself into it, it shimmers in his hand and stays in place as if there is some kind of fixing that cannot be seen or felt.
Magic. But this is not magic Kerik is doing.
He does not feel that sensation, pure and distinct, just a faint warmth.
This magic belongs to the object itself. Like Perl’s ring.
So objects can contain their own magic. He wonders how such a thing is done. If he had an army could he use magic to imbue their swords with great power?
The same is true of the collar. And the cuffs. Perfectly smooth, with no sign of any hinge or split. They need magic to work and are spelled only to work for Perl.
But Kerik wonders if he can change that.
He tries willing them to open the way Perl instructed, just imagining what he wants to happen, but it does not work.
He tries again, holding the thought in his head.
The cuffs and collar are spelled to open and close for Perl, but he wants them to open and close for him.
It takes three attempts to open the first cuff, stroking it and concentrating.
But then with a sharp rush of pleasure along Kerik’s spine, it does as he wishes and he removes it easily, before replacing it around his wrist, smoothing it closed.
Then just to be sure that he can, he takes it off again.
This time it springs open more quickly, as if once he has connected himself to it, it is easier to make it do as he wills.
He does the same with the second cuff, satisfying himself by taking them on and off until he feels quite dizzy and exhausted from it.
He puts one silver cuff back on his wrist, followed by its pair and then lifts the collar, opens it with his will and puts it around his neck.
It’s high front is uncomfortable instantly, forcing his chin up.
It takes a little adjustment to get the divot in the right place.
Once that is done it is almost bearable.
But not being able to move or lower his head is too encumbering for dressing, so he takes it off again and sets it on the table.
The clasps seem to have no magic at all, in mechanics, they are identical to similar items Kerik has seen in pillow houses, although the design and heavy encrustation of jewels is far finer than anything Kerik has encountered on a pleasure toy.
He opens one and then gingerly snaps it onto his nipple.
The sharp pinch makes him have to swallow a cry, but only for a moment.
The pain fades fast and the only effect of the clasp is to make him feel very aware of his teats.
It is a little arousing he supposes, as he attaches the second one, but Kerik would far rather see someone else wearing these items. Squirming and gasping as Kerik snapped these cruel toys in place, then licked over the tormented flesh to elicit cries of twisted pleasure and begging for him to stop.
It’s a pleasant thought.
Kerik looks at his wrist cuffs. Spelled to him now. He’s a little aroused by the idea of those too. He likes being the one in control of such cuffs. Like the clasps, he’d like to be the one placing such items on another.
On Perl, he thinks, quite suddenly. And that is a strange thought. Why Perl? He’s not attracted to Perl. The creature is like a man carved of ice.
But Kerik has always liked a test. Liked the fight. It would feel like a triumph to melt that ice.
He stops that thought. Finds himself inspecting it.
He has never seen so much as a glimpse of Perl’s body.
No part of his skin except his face. Although the outfit he wears makes the shape of it quite clear.
But there is nothing about the shape of that body which ought to be unduly distracting.
Perl is taller than Kerik by half a head and slender as a reed.
His long thighs wrapped in those tight leather breeches might be a little enticing, and his face quite handsome in its cold sternness, but Kerik has seen comelier men.
Kerik pushes his thoughts of Perl aside and tries to concentrate on the immediate.
At that moment, Perl emerges from the dressing room.
Kerik was expecting some grand formal outfit. But Perl seems to be wearing the same clothing he wore before. Kerik looks him up and down and it is only when he looks to Perl’s face that he sees Perl is gazing at him with his pale mouth slightly open.
Kerik sees Perl swallow. He wonders why, before he realises he is naked. Naked excepting the jewels on his teats and the glittering cage around his cock. He grins at Perl and swings his hips, posing a little before he says. “You’ve not changed your clothing.”
Perl waves a hand down at himself. “Incorrect.”
It’s then that Kerik notices what protrudes from between Perl’s legs.
“Oh that is,” Kerik has to bite back his laughter so he can speak. “Those were fashionable at the Rose Court for a time.”
At the meeting of Perl’s thighs is a jewelled codpiece, black like the rest of his outfit and covered in silver studs. Perl swallows. “So the symbolism of it is not lost on you?”
“No. Will every fae be wearing such a thing?”
Perl nods. “Most fae that prefer a masculine presentation will wear one of these for a formal occasion, yes.”
“Then I can only hope my Master chooses to blindfold me for the evening.”
Perl’s face changes. Kerik thinks he almost laughs.
He looks at Kerik’s wrists. Then to the collar on the table.
“You’ve tried putting on the collar,” he says, nose wrinkling as if he is detecting magic in the air by smell.
He lets his gaze move up and down Kerik’s body, but this time not through lust, more of a curious inspection.
“And you’ve taken those cuffs from your wrists and put them back on.
They were spelled to me. You’ve used magic again. ”
“Yes. By thinking about what I want to happen until it happens. Is that how magic works? Surely it cannot be so simple.”
“Oh, magic is not simple at all. Far from it. Most of the fae you see here at court are considered full grown, that means they are over a hundred years old and have spent a century or more learning magic. There are many rules. Many complications. But at first, yes, one simply uses one’s will.
The complications come when there are many wills all trying to control things with magic. But this is the place everyone starts.”
“So everything I will comes true?”
“No. Not at first and then, not unless you intend it to and work hard to control it. You’ll learn to control it and decide when you use it. But at first it will simply take the form of a manifestation of your desires, the energy of your thoughts transmuting into the energy of matter.”
“You say the word ‘simply’ then say a sentence like that.”
Perl crosses the room. “Like every fae, I studied magic for the first hundred years of my life. Our lives are long because magic can only be acquired safely if it is acquired slowly. So things can be complicated for mortals who wish to do it. Do not rush your power. It is never pleasant. And, now you have awoken this in yourself you will need to be careful. No one can see you performing magic outside of this chamber. No one here can know of your power.”
“Why not?”
“Because a mortal with power like yours would only mean one thing to the fae.”
“A mortal with fae blood?”
Perl nods. “Exactly.”
“What if I do magic by accident?”
“That is best avoided,” Perl says as if that is an end to the matter. “And we should make ready to go.”
Kerik lifts the collar.
Perl watches. “Do you want some help with that?”
“I think I will find it easier to bear this indignity if I put it on myself,” Kerik says, placing the collar around his own neck.
It closes with a soft sound he feels in his gut.
Lastly, he brings his wrists together behind his back and feels the cuffs join to each other.
With a small act of will he finds he is still able to break them apart and connect again.
He leaves them unconnected for the moment.
Perl watches him before saying, lightly.
“And now we are almost ready.” There is a heavy sound to his voice and Kerik dreads whatever final humiliating touch he is about to reveal will be part of his outfit for the evening.
But then he says, “The vulgar protuberance is not the only thing that is different about my ensemble. There is also this.”
He turns. Kerik sees that the back of Perl’s outfit is different.
It seems to be the same leather jerkin, but Perl has adjusted it somehow.
The high neck of it still wraps all the way around his throat, but beneath it some of his back is bared on either side of the lacing that closes it along his spine.
Two long slits are cut vertically from his shoulders to his waist. Through them Kerik can see Perl’s pale skin.
“That is a strange addition,” Kerik says. The skin revealed by the slashes in Perl’s jerkin looks delicate. Perl’s perfect skin. Perl, for all his power, the power he has over Kerik and the power he wields, seems so vulnerable in that moment, Kerik feels a thickness form in his throat.
He finds himself wondering when anyone last touched that skin. Perl has told him that he is chaste. But he hasn’t always been so? Kerik knows Seridil was once his thrall, so he must have coupled before. But that was before he left Vylenor. A century ago.
Has he had any lovers in all the time he was in the mortal realm? Kerik feels sure he has not.
Does he miss it? The touch of another?
Perhaps Perl’s cock has withered and fallen off his body like Emperor Selim’s.
All these questions fill Kerik’s head, but the one he asks is, “What manner of design is this? For what purpose?”
“Let me show you.” Perl turns back around to face Kerik. He takes a breath. He sounds exasperated. Like he is about to do something he finds deeply demeaning.
He blinks his blue eyes softly…
And wings explode from his back with a great rushing sound like a high wind.
The wind subsides after a moment, but the wings remain in place, moving slightly as if still ruffled by the movement of the air. “Oh,” Kerik says. He can’t think what else he could say. Perl has wings.
The wings seem to hang weightless in the air behind his body.
They are like nothing Kerik has ever seen.
So tall they arc above Perl’s head and so long they almost reach his heels.
They are completely white excepting their feathery tips which are a delicate pale blue.
The same shade as Perl’s irises. They are a little translucent and seem to shift before Kerik’s gaze as if he is looking at them with lidded eyes, on the brink of sleep.
“You have…?” is all Kerik can manage.
“Wings,” Perl says, finishing the sentence in a flat tone. “Yes.”
“I saw wings on some of the faeries in the hall. Do all…?” Kerik pauses and swallows to try and get the strangled tone from his voice.
Perhaps this would be easier if he wasn’t standing before winged-Perl half naked, with jewelled clasps on his nipples.
“Do all fae have wings?” he manages in a more even tone.
He can feel it now. The magical energy pouring off Perl’s wings like pollen from blossom-heavy trees.
“Yes,” Perl says in the same emotionless tone. “We all have them. Only here. There is not enough power for them in most other places. Some of them are quite ridiculous. I prefer not to wear mine, but for an event like this they are required.”
Kerik smirks up at Perl. “So, can you fly?”
Perl’s eyes go so narrow they almost vanish behind his high cheekbones. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But can you?”
“Yes. Are you ready?”
Kerik gestures down at his ridiculous outfit. “Don’t I look ready?”
With a flick of his wrist, Perl conjures a delicate silver chain from the air. Kerik shivers to see it. He has no doubt what it is for.
“Put your wrists back behind you,” Perl says, almost apologetically. “Lock the cuffs together.”
Kerik does as he is bid. He feels the sweet rush as the magic joins the wrist cuffs. He knows he can release them himself, but it still makes him feel vulnerable in a way that flips his belly.
Perl nods and clips the end of the chain to the collar Kerik wears.
But Kerik lifts his chin and says, “Now you're adding humiliations of your own. Is your name on my chest not enough?”
“It is merely how things are done.”