Chapter 26 Braze
brAZE
Braze’s world had narrowed to a single, screaming point of sensation deep inside him.
It started as a warmth in his gut—a pleasant, tingling heat that spread outward from the first sip of the pale pink tea.
But now, a few minutes after he’d drained the cup, it was no longer pleasant.
It was a deep, visceral pull low in his abdomen—a hollow, aching need that had nothing to do with his own erection, (which was painfully hard now that Kaitlyn had unlocked him and removed the cage)—and everything to do with an emptiness he had never known before.
Shat in the Seven Hells is wrong with me? he thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow even as his skin burned.
He’d heard the descriptions that seemed to echo what he was feeling.
On the Mother Ship, human women who were preparing to bond with a Kindred sometimes ate Bonding Fruit.
They described a desperate, overwhelming need to be filled, to be stretched, to be taken.
It helped their bodies open, to accept the massive girth of a Kindred shaft.
This…this felt like that. He felt a need not to penetrate, but to be penetrated. The Love Vine wasn't just an aphrodisiac—it was a chemical command, rewriting his body's deepest desires—making him crave something no male should crave.
The need to be filled was growing—coiling tighter with every passing second. It was a physical pressure, a painful desire that made his whole body ache.
Fuck!
Braze was worried. If the Love Vine was anything like the Bonding Fruit in potency, this wasn't just about humiliation.
He could have serious physical side effects—muscle spasms, pain, even tissue damage—if the desperate, clenching void inside him wasn't filled soon.
Panic, sharp and metallic, cut through the haze of lust.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
He was in deep, deep trouble here.
Some of his distress must have shown on his face because he saw Kaitlyn’s face go pale—saw the worry dawning in her eyes as she watched him. She whirled on the Empress, her voice cracking with a protective fury that sent a pain through his heart even stronger than the physical agony he was feeling.
“What did you do to him? What did you do to my husband?” she demanded.
The Empress raised her eyebrows, a nasty sneer twisting her pretty lips.
“Why, I merely gave him a taste of our Love Vine, as I told you, my dear—an extra strong taste. And now, if you want him to live through it, you’ll have to punish him.”
As she spoke, servants hauled a new apparatus into the center of the room.
It was shaped like a wide, freestanding wooden doorway made of dark, polished wood.
Across the top bar, a series of heavy, gleaming hooks were spaced evenly.
Braze knew their purpose instantly—they were for manacles to hold a submissive in place—arms stretched overhead, utterly exposed and vulnerable.
A public display frame.
“How…how am I supposed to punish him?” Kaitlyn asked—her eyes were also fixed on the tall wooden frame.
“Why, by fucking him, of course!” the Empress purred, her sneer growing into a nasty grin. “Servants! Bring the punishment rod!”
She snapped her fingers, and two more servants scurried forward. One held open a velvet-lined case. Inside, nestled on black silk, was a double-ended shaft. It was made of slick, onyx veined in silver and to Braze, it looked like a masterpiece of cruel engineering.
One end was thick—intimidatingly so—with a pronounced, flared head and a textured shaft. The other end was slightly smaller, but still substantial, with a more tapered tip. The two ends met in the middle with a wider, ridged section clearly meant to sit against the wearer's body.
The other servant held a harness of intricate silver chains and supple black leather, along with a small crystal vial of clear, glistening lubricant.
“There—you see?” the Empress said triumphantly. “You’ll even get pleasure from punishing him. The bigger end goes into your pussy—unless you’re feeling extra savage and you want to take the smaller end yourself and fuck him with the larger end.”
She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that grated on Braze’s nerves like broken glass.
Kaitlyn stared at the “equipment” silently. Braze watched her expression cycle from confusion to dawning comprehension to utter, abject horror. Her face drained of all color.
Her voice, when it came, was small but firm.
“I can’t do this. I won’t hurt my husband this way!”
The Empress’s amused mask slipped, revealing cold steel beneath.
“Then I’ll find someone who will!” She raised her voice. “Aria!”
The bubblegum-pink woman appeared from the crowd, her spotted face alight with vapid curiosity.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“I want you to strap on a cock and fuck this male. Show our guest how punishment is properly administered.”
Aria’s eyes lit up.
“Of course, Your Majesty! I just love a good punishment fuck!” She practically skipped toward the harness, her gaze raking over Braze’s body with eager interest.
A wave of emotion—this one pure revulsion—washed over Braze. The physical need was a fire in his veins, but the thought of that woman’s hands on him, of being used as a Court spectacle for her amusement… it was a violation that was fucking worse than death.
“Wait!”
His voice came out as a low, dangerous growl, cutting through the murmurs of the Court. Every eye snapped to him. Braze ignored them all. Locking eyes with Kaitlyn, he said,
“If anyone is going to fuck me, I want it to be my wife.”
Kaitlyn looked at him, her eyes wide with shock and uncertainty.
“Braze…are you sure about this?” she murmured.
He took a step toward her, the need making his movements slightly unsteady. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Her warm, sweet, feminine scent was the only clean thing in this rotten room.
“The fucking tea,” he whispered, his words coming out ragged.
“It did something to me. I… Gods, Kaitlyn, I fucking need to get fucked. I can’t explain it any better than that.
It’s like… a pain—an emptiness—that won’t stop inside me.
It hurts.” He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, letting her see the raw, humiliating truth of it.
“But I want you to be the one to do it. Only you.”
She bit her lower lip, her gaze darting between his tortured expression and the sinister double-ended shaft.
“I… I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to hurt you.”
A dark fury, fiercer than the chemical need, surged inside Braze. He straightened, turning his head to glare at Aria, who had paused, the harness in her hands. His voice dropped to a lethal snarl, meant for Kaitlyn but loud enough for the Court to hear.
“Then I’m going to go down fighting. Because nobody else here is going to fuck me. If they try, I’ll fuck them up! I’ll tear this pretty room apart with my bare hands before I let anyone but you touch me, Mistress.”
It wasn’t a bluff. The primal part of his nature was rising in him, pushed by pain, humiliation, and a desperate, clawing need.
Red tinged the edges of his vision. It wasn’t Rage exactly, but it was close.
He was attuned to Kaitlyn—sworn to her service.
He would kill or die before he’d let another woman touch him.
Braze saw in her eyes the moment she believed him—saw the resolve harden on her face, pushing past the fear. Kaitlyn gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
“All right,” she breathed. “But… I’ve never done this before.”
The admission, so vulnerable, touched something inside him.
“Just go slow,” he murmured, the gentleness in his voice a stark contrast to his previous snarl. “And let me help you put the harness on.”
“All right,” she nodded again, her voice firmer, though her eyes still looked uncertain.
Braze could see the war going on in her mind.
Was this a terrible sacrifice he was asking her to make?
Did he truly want this from her, or was he just sparing himself a worse violation at the hands of a stranger?
Would he look at her tomorrow and see revulsion in his eyes when she remembered the way he’d submitted to being fucked in public?
He wanted to tell her—wanted to say that even in the middle of the shame and the chemical torment from the Love Vine tea, the idea of her taking him—of her being the one to ease this awful need—sparked a dark, forbidden thread of desire in his soul.
He wanted to beg her not to hate him—not to think him weak.
But there were no words. Not here. Not now.
She didn’t want to do this. He could feel her reluctance like a physical chill. But she had no choice. He wasn’t giving her one.
He just hoped she wouldn’t hate him after this was over.
And he prepared to help her into the harness, Braze knew one thing with absolute certainty—after this, nothing would ever be the same between them.