Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
C orrik doesn't return. I miss him and I'm getting serious cabin fever, but once again there is a note.
Tristan.
Do not leave this room. Be ready for me after dinner.
Corrik
I crumple it up and toss it into the fire. I'm no fool. I know what ‘”be ready for me,” means . He wants me ready and kneeling like last night. That was exhilarating.That I’d do again.
But I can take no more of this confinement.
Etched into my mind is “the Corrik” from last night and my body feels inclined to obey him. The only protest I dare is lazing about for the first part of the day, instead of working from Cupper’s book. I eat and I stare out the window, but eventually become so bored, I read another seven chapters.
Finally, it’s after dinner. I look to the door like he’ll come in any moment, but return my eyes to the ground quickly, in case he should catch me with my eyes up. I’m shirtless and kneeling as before, in front of the fire, but facing the armchair he sat in the night before. My head is bowed, and I’ve picked a spot on the floor to look at. I’ve made a few extra enhancements to my person with the hopes of inviting him into sex. I brushed my hair to silk and massaged a lotion onto my body that makes me smell like a summer’s day— a fearsome summer’s day. I may have spent most of my life chaste, but in the short time I’ve been with Corrik, I’ve gotten used to being relieved every night. My cock hurts and is already straining at the thought of kneeling while he watches over me with those menacing eyes and hungry teeth.
I hear when he arrives, but I don’t look up. I don’t need to. His energy surrounds me. His black boots stop before me, and I catch the hem of the long black jacket he wore last night—I can smell the leather.
“Have you any idea how much I want you? Especially when you kneel like this?”
I hope it’s enough to fuck me.
“I intend to have you, but not until we finish the night’s lesson.”
Lesson? Is that what all this is?
“After that, I intend to ram my cock into your pretty little mouth.” He snaps himself away from me and sits in the armchair once again. His words make my cock ache more than before and send a warm buzz to my groin. I can’t see if he’s brought the riding crop or some other weapon of torture, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
“Your posture is good, but I want your hands behind your back tonight.”
I move to do his bidding as he instructs. “Clasp your hands together with fingers interlaced—yes like that—arms straight, no bend in the elbow. Yes. Good.”
I feel like a pretty trophy on display and wonder at the point of all this. I don’t like being treated as a pampered doll, but this is different. This I like. I like his eyes on me the way they are now. I like being here for his pleasure if he chooses it or as nothing more than something to toy with if that’s all he desires. My cock likes it very much and my breath quickens.
He’s quiet again, like he was last night. I know if I say anything, he’ll whack me with the crop I know he’s hiding somewhere, and my skin is still sore to the touch from last night’s administrations. More than that, I’m hoping for some of the same kind of praise I received last night when I complied with his instruction.
I wait patiently in my position until my muscles ache. This isn’t an easy position to hold. My toes feel like they will break from the weight of me, and my thighs burn. All the muscles in my back scream around the same time my shoulders do and drops of sweat form at my brow. I think of other things. What is Lucca doing at this very moment? I smile thinking that he’s most likely entertaining a “guest” or “guests” as is the usual case with him. He didn’t seem to care—male or female—he’s had plenty of both. I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like to be with a woman, but I’ve always held a stronger attraction to men. Lucca hinted on our last day together that he preferred men too. Will he end up with a man? Or will a woman capture his heart? I guess I’ll never know.
My thoughts swim in that direction for a while. I don’t feel as sad as I once did about never seeing my family again. I’ll always miss them, of course, and feel fondly for them, but Papa taught me not to linger in the past for too long. He said it could consume a person, trap them there and never allow them to step foot into their future.
It’s high time for me to put his wisdom to good use. My life is in Mortouge as an Elf and as husband to the insane Elf that has me kneeling before him. He mentioned my “pretty little mouth.” I hope he’ll use it soon.
“In moments like these it’s hard to believe you’ve had no training at all. Well, no formal training at least.” He reaches out to stroke my long hair; he seems to be thinking something over.
“Stand up.”
I do, keeping my eyes to his polished boots and my arms behind me, fingers interlaced. His long, slender fingers reach to the waistband of my pants, and I inhale sharply. He’s deliberate, yet primal as he undresses me, releasing my throbbing, bouncing, cock— no I’m not wearing any underthings.
When I’m standing naked before him, he gently caresses my cock and fondles my balls—if he doesn’t fuck me tonight, I think I’ll die.
“You like this very much, don’t you? Answer me.”
“Yessss, Corrik,” I hiss.
His eyes are feral, and his posture is taut as a spring; he’s holding himself back again. “Kneel.”
I stifle a groan, not wanting to get back into the painful position, the short reprieve not enough relief for my tired muscles, but I sense we are on the verge of the things my cock wants and I’ll not tarnish the opportunity. I sink down and urge him by nipping at his cock that is barricaded by smooth leather. Corrik almost gives himself away when his hips push minutely toward me, but he refrains and grasps my chin, so I look up at him. “Do you want me to fuck your mouth, beautiful boy?”
“Please, Corrik.” I hope he’ll do much more than that.
He allows me to watch him unzip the leather pants that are a muted, almost grey-black and releases his large Elven member. He’s proud of that cock and he should be. It’s magnificent. I lean forward to take him in my mouth and he pulls back. “I don’t think so. There will be rules.”
Rules?
“You will keep your hands behind your back. Do you need me to bind them for you?”
“No, Corrik.”
“The punishment for failure will be severe. Are you certain?”
“Yes, Corrik.”
He smiles. “My ambitious little Markaytian. You please me.” He moves forward so his cock is against my lips; I can smell him, but I don’t dare lick him.
“Open your mouth,” he says, as he grabs a fist full of my hair in his hand so he can control my head. I do and he slams his cock into me. It reaches the back of my throat. I gag. He keeps going.
“Hold still,” he growls when I squirm as I fight for breath with tears streaming down my cheeks. “Relax, Kathir. I know your limits. I will not harm you.”
Harm is different than hurt, I know that. There is pain involved in this, but I will not be damaged. I want to make it through for him, so I force myself to relax, and it gets easier, but I still gag, and it still elicits tears.
Finally, he’s coming down my throat and I drink him in greedily—his cock doesn’t lose its hardness, even once I’ve sucked it dry.
M y cock hurts. Corrik is gone and I’m alone with a hard on from the sixth level of the underworld. I’m still naked, but I’m lying in darkness with only the light from the moon to play across my copper skin. He’s unhappy, my cock that is. He’s thinking of the times from before when I would have to wait for Corrik to send word that I could relieve myself. He would ache and plead with me to touch him. This isn’t much different.
Before he left Corrik made it clear that if I so much as looked at my cock, he’d know about it, and he’d make me regret it. Not that I would have touched my cock anyway, I’ve long since grown used to Corrik controlling what I do and what I don’t do with my cock. I try to sleep after that, but no such luck. Instead, I spend close to an hour thinking over this new side of Corrik I’ve been experiencing.
This is who Corrik really is. He’s been withholding this from me. The restraint I saw on our wedding night, his leniency with me, he’s been allowing how I might react to decide how much “Elven lifestyle” he introduces to me.
He’s realized that does us no favors and I’m glad for it. This is my life now, to do as Corrik says, and I wish he’d been this way from the beginning .
I love being this for him and I’m enjoying the exploration.
With my thoughts in order, I’m able to drift off to sleep but a noise wakes me. When I open my eyes, a large Elf is sitting there, but it’s not Corrik.
I know danger and I can sense it before it happens.
“Calm down, human,” a deep voice says. “I will not harm you, yet .”
The Elf is decidedly a ‘he,’ though I cannot make out more than his silhouette in the dark and he sits in the armchair in the corner of the room at the end of the bed.
“How did you get in here?” I calm down but remain on edge. I think about the dagger I know is somewhere among Corrik’s things, but I doubt I can get to it. I’ve seen Elves move in battle, they’re fast, much faster than any human.
From what I can see of his profile, he’s got long hair like most Elves, and a set of wide shoulders. His fingers are steepled with his elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t seem in any rush, and I can tell he’s thinking about what to do next, like he’s making things up as he goes along.
“I can do anything, remember that Junior Warlord,” he says my old title mockingly. He’s speaking in my home language. I’m not surprised. Not only is Markaytian the most common language throughout all the kingdoms, Diekin said Elves learn many languages. I suppose that extends to Rogue Elves too.
“Fine, you can do anything so either kill me or be gone, I’ve no wish to speak with you.” I sit up and cross my arms. I may not be able to see him, but he can most likely see me.
I don’t expect his laughter. “You’re brave—I like it.”
“I don’t know what you know of Warlords, but yes, usually we are brave,” I say arching my brow. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he drawls. “I thought I wanted to kill you, but I watched you sleeping—"
“—that’s fucking, creepy. ”
“I watched you sleeping,” he snaps over my insult. “And I find I like the look of you.”
That’s still creepy. One too many Elves are infatuated with my so-called good looks and watching me sleep. “I’m already a concubine to one Elf, thanks,” I say, holding up my ringed hand.
“Yes, but are you happy? Perhaps I can make you happy? What is it you wish for most, Warlord? I will give you your heart’s desire.”
I don’t miss he’s dropped the “junior” from my old title. “Why would I go with you? I don’t even know who you are—I can’t even see you.”
“My apologies. I am Prince Andothair Tar Jian of the Aldrien Elves or Rogue Elves as we have been dually named. You may call me Ando—that may be easier for you to pronounce. I do not think I could suffer hearing you butcher it.”
Are all the Elves who are interested in me this impossibly arrogant?
“Why wouldn’t you want to go with me? I know you are unhappy with Corrik. I’ve promised you something better. It’s—what do you Markaytians call it? Oh yes, a no brainer.”
“We also have another saying. It’s better to trust the evils you know—”
“—than the evils you don’t know. Yes, I know that one too. I know quite a lot about your Markaytia and Markaytian culture.”
“Then you’ll know I couldn’t possibly go with you. We’ve signed a treaty with the Mortougian Elves. Markaytians are nothing if not duty and honor bound.”
“Not if I make it look like an abduction.”
“Why not just abduct me now then? We both know you out power me. Why bother asking my permission?”
“Because,” he hisses. “I am unable to take you off the ship without your cooperation at this time. If I have your permission however…”
“So, you cannot do everything?” I pretend to be shocked.
He pauses, remembers what he told me a moment ago then laughs a pleasant laugh. “Touché. Most things then. I could still take you, but I would have to wait, and I do not wish to wait.”
“Well, that is how it shall have to be, an abduction, a real abduction. I am duty bound. I will not authorize you taking me.”
“You will not authorize it, but you do not forbid it. Interesting.”
“I—I didn’t say that.”
“You did not have to.”
I glare at him hard because of what he’s implying, but I don’t want to leave Corrik, do I? No, he’s playing mind games with me. It must be some kind of Elven voodoo. I change the subject. “You must be horribly disfigured or why else would you hide in the shadows?” I say to goad him into coming out, but he laughs again, this time trying to restrain himself from laughing loudly.
“I know you are trying to anger me. You also know why I hide in the dark; I do not wish to alert anyone of my presence. So, what say you? I think I could keep you entertained.”
“You must think me a grand fool. Your kind has done nothing but try to kill me and now I’m supposed to believe that’s over because all the blood has suddenly gone to your cock?”
“Yes. Attempting to have you killed was a mistake. I wish to atone for it. Come with me and I will.”
“No.”
“Is that your answer then?”
“It is. I won’t go with you so kill me.”
“Ah. Don’t be in such a hurry to die, Warlord, you’ve only just begun to live. I find I cannot kill a creature of such beauty. I have new plans for you,” he says.
Elves. Damn them all. I wish I never laid eyes on the Godsforsaken creatures.
“Sleep, now, Tristan. I will come for you.”
“If you think I’m going to be ‘a good boy’ and go to sleep, you’re the fool.”
“Very, well.”
He does something. My eyelids are heavy, threatening to close. I fight it with everything I have, but it’s nothing compared to his powers, and I fall back to my pillow. My eyes close.
I feel him move close to me now, but I can’t see him with my eyes closed and I can’t move because the paralysis of sleep has already ensnared me. I can only sense him above me—he could softly slit my throat if he wanted, and I could do nothing.
“Sleep,” I hear him repeat. “I will come for you.” His lips press to mine. They’re soft and full of unleashed mirth. I want to stop him, but I’m nothing but a lamb for slaughter. He doesn’t slaughter me though, just kisses me, feasting on me.
“Mmmhmmm,” he says. “I like how you taste.”