by Scottie Kaye
"And did he just call me a cow-fucker?" Teijo said. "Do you hear that, Jess? He thinks you're a cow."
With that, he spat into his hand and did something between Jessyne's legs. She whimpered as he spread her wider, tugging her panties to one side while her husband held her in place.
"No, no....” She was trembling. “Please...."
Teijo worked his shaft up and down between her legs, as if trying to moisten her up. Loren watched her face, though, and every few seconds, her expression forgot the lies it was telling, and melted into bliss. He didn’t think she was actually dry.
"Stop waiting around," Ross said. "The others want their turn."
"Fair enough," Teijo said, bending his knees, digging his nails into her hips to hold her in place.
She sobbed, choking and blubbering. "No, no, no—"
His face set into hard focus, Teijo thrust.
Jessyne squealed, real tears sprouting at the corners of her eyes, her face a tender mix of ecstasy and pain. Loren's mouth watered at the expression, at the intense need he was feeling. Me next, five gods, me next.
"Tsk, tsk," Teijo said. "So dry."
"It hurts," she sobbed, but it sounded more like a moan. "Oh Roseless King, it hurts...."
Teijo pulled away, then thrust again, his deep bronze skin pressing to her copper flesh. She cried out, her teeth grating from pain as she rocked forward. It made Loren remember the part he was playing.
"Please," Loren groaned, yanking at his bonds again. "Please, Ragen. You have to stop this."
In response, Ragen stood, tugging Loren up with him. "I'll get this one out of the way," he said to the duke, who nodded. As Loren was dragged away, the duke extracted something from his back pocket. A handkerchief. Loren watched with hunger as he tied his wife's wrists with it.
"Be a good girl, now," Ross said, once he was finished with the knots. "If you finish them all, I'll let it end."
"Please, Ross," she moaned. "Please, I'll do anything. Just make them go—"
"Shut up," Teijo said. "You answer to me now."
And then he started to move a lot faster.
As the gorgeous woman grunted, her face twisted in ecstasy, she looked up at Loren. When their gazes met, her façade slipped back on, and she was able to look terrified and yet also distant, as if she were trying to be anywhere else.
The thought put him in mind of her small daughter for an instant. Only her daughter’s haunted look had been real.
For a moment, this idea killed every ounce of desire in his body, and he used this to his advantage. It made his horror a lot easier to sell.
"I'm sorry, Jess," Loren wept as Ragen dropped him in front of the study’s glass-fronted bar. He sobbed false tears as he repeated, "I'm so sorry...."
"Don't leave me—!" she begged, the words ending in a cry as Teijo rammed inside her, his stomach tense from the effort, his thighs glistening.
"I won't," Loren promised, holding her gaze, plastering desperation on his face. "I'm right here."
She nodded, and he watched her face as it jerked forward with every push between her legs. Loren searched every detail of her face as her mouth fell open, as her ringlets bounced loose, as her throat released tight, fearful sounds.
"We'll see how chivalrous you are with a few shots in you," Ragen said, pressing something to Loren's lips. Despite his earlier vow not to drink, Loren knocked the shot back with relish. He felt almost feral, immersed now in the fantasy. All his other thoughts faded as he watched the duchess take Teijo. As he waited for his own turn to come.
"Another," he said. Ragen gave him more darici, trying to make it look like Loren was being force-fed. The cinnamon and rosemary drew hot lines down his throat. Teijo was going full tilt now, shoving into his victim at full speed, his muscles bunching as he pulled her against him. The duke watched from Ragen's chair now, his drink back in his hand. In his other hand, he held his own penis.
"This is sick," Loren said. “You’re all sick....” Once, he might have meant it. But when he was inside the fantasy, he understood its allure. He wanted to do this every night of his life.
"Aren’t we?" Ragen laughed, feeding him yet another shot. Loren could already feel the ground pulling toward him. He shook his head against more; he wanted to remember this. He wanted to remember it all.
Five
Loren knew Teijo was close to coming when his face went rigid, his lips pressing together into an "o" shape as he blew air out his cheeks.
"So—tight—" he said.
"He's not used to that, after six children," Ragen whispered in Loren's ear. Loren hid a laugh behind the high collar of his coat. The room was filled with firelight, whimpering grunts, and the subtle whap whap of Rossyne's hand. Ragen had tied Loren to the iron leg of the bar, as a part of the knight-in-shining-armor farce. Every time Jessyne looked up and locked eyes with Loren, he put on a sickened face for her benefit.
"Oh, shit," Teijo said, bucking so hard that Lady Read jumped forward over the arm of the chair. Her dress didn't follow her, pulled back by the friction against the chair arm, and Loren nearly came in his trousers as her two perfect breasts popped toward him.
She started to weep then, full-on wails as Teijo tensed, finishing, emptying himself into her. She struggled to stay upright, but her breasts weighed her down, and eventually she sagged over the chair arm, sweaty and defeated.
"Pitiful as usual, Teijo," Ross said. "No self-control at all. Who's next?"
The crazy man was still pumping himself in his chair. Loren wondered how long he could go on for.
Ragen kicked him in the knee, more of a playful jab than anything. "How about we have loverboy go?"
Loren looked up at his Housemaster, horror dashing across his own face. "What? No! Are you mad?"
Ragen knelt, drew his knife, and cut Loren's bonds. "You heard the duke. She doesn't get to leave until she finishes all of us. Why don't you show her a good time? No one else will. You can make it easier for her."
Rising on wobbly legs—the drink had gotten into his head now—Loren said, "I couldn't—"
"If not you, then Teijo goes twice," Ross intoned, waving a hand. "You'll be kinder than he will be, not so?"
Loren looked down at Jessyne, at the back of her head where it hung in perfect, unruly curls about her face. As if she could sense him watching, she raised her head, jutting out her chin in forced pride.
"Do it, Captain," she said. "I'd rather it be you."
Shakily, Loren nodded, and he crossed the room and slipped his hands under her. "Let's make you more comfortable," he said, lifting her and carrying her to the duke's expansive writing desk, a far less confined surface than the chair. He lay her down on her back and pushed her torn dress up to her waist. "I'll try to be gentle," he said.
Teary-eyed, she nodded, her knees pressing tight together. Loren's eyes roamed across her breasts, and he slid both his hands between her knees, his fingertips diving into the dark line where her ruby thighs clung together. Slowly, he pressed her apart, revealing a ravaged pair of panties, stained in white. She shuddered as Loren pulled the fabric off her, up her thighs, over her knees, and down off her ankles. Her vagina was moist and swollen, the bright pink folds beckoning, a small bead of semen leaking out of her. He pressed a thumb to her enlarged clitoris—she had the biggest he'd ever seen, the easiest to find—and he started to rub her.
With his other hand, he pulled her closer and worked off his belt. She sighed and wept and moaned and twisted while he got his own penis out of his pants.
"You like it, don't you," he told her. "You like being used like this...."
"No, no," she said, her stomach tensing as she tried to sit up. But her wrists were still bound, so she could only look at him by peering past her own nipples. Her gaze was plaintive, hungry. He wet his thumb with his mouth, and circled her clit. Her head fell back, her chest heaving.
"You like it," he said again. "That's sick. And here I was, trying to protect you...."
She w
as breathing faster now. He reached up and gripped her breast, using it as leverage to pull his penis against her very wet vagina. It seemed this was one part of the charade she couldn't fake.
"Look how wet you are," he said. "You really are a whore."
Her legs snapped against his hips. "Please don't do this, Loren, I beg you—"
He pinched her nipple, stealing her words away as he leaned over her, as his head pressed harder against her hot sex. Teijo or not, her opening was tight, her labia closing around his head as he increased the pressure—
And then he broke through, shivering, her wet flesh embracing every side of his penis as he sank to his full length inside her. She was everything he'd hoped for, the perfect balance of tightness and give, of heat and slick need and soft sighs....
He'd be lucky to last thirty seconds.
"Dirty bitch," he said, his finger pulsing against her. If he made this good, he'd make Ragen happy. If he made Ragen happy, he'd be a general someday. And he'd be inside Jessyne whenever he was in town....
She wriggled against him, still fighting, still begging. Pathetic, he heard himself think. For the first time, he looked about for her nullband—the piece of jewelry that would protect her from magic. It was instantly clear that her husband had removed it.
Loren sent his power into her.
She went stiff as a board, unable to move. A tiny wheeze escaped her throat. And in that single point of a moment, Loren felt himself go insane. The world tilted from drink; her vagina went as hard as the rest of her; and she was his, all his.
Loren lost all control, slamming into her, his butt muscles nearly pulling from the effort. He let his head fall back, keeping his finger pressed to her clitoris as he felt every wet inch of her clinging to his penis—
He felt his orgasm coming, too soon, too much, the building of minutes, hours, days—his shaft pulsed, his balls went cold—
At the last instant, he ended the flow of his magic, and she gasped, her legs closing on him, her vagina loosening, then tensing, then shuddering—
She cried out, and he felt the first spurt of cum, and without thinking he grabbed her hair and pulled her off the desk to her knees. Groaning, he ejaculated into her face, her open mouth, onto her breasts. She pressed her cheek to his penis, absorbing everything, gasping. She had come too, she must have. No one looked that happy if they weren't coming.
"My turn," Ragen said, grabbing her by the hips and crouching behind her. Loren could barely sling an arm across the desk for leverage before Jessyne was being used again. Ragen's body dwarfed her, made her look small and used up, like she was nothing more than a wet rag to masturbate into. Loren had never seen a woman look so dominated, but he liked it. He liked how much she liked it.
"Loren, please," she said. She really liked that word, please. "It hurts, Loren. Please make it easier."
Loren nodded at her, his vision blurring. Ragen had her pressed to the floor, forcing her back and forth across it like a godsdamned mop. Loren held out his penis like an offering, sinking soft fingers into her hair with his other hand.
"This will make it easier," he assured her, his voice quiet. "Put your mouth on me. Take your mind off him."
She nodded and raised her head, slipping her mouth around his limp penis. He hissed through his teeth, the flesh as sensitive as a wound, but the pain was equal parts pleasure as he watched her bob her head.
"Get me there, and I'll make you come again," he murmured to her. She grunted around his penis, which had grown only slightly stiffer. Thank the Feeling Queen that he was relatively long, even while limp. Otherwise he might be more embarrassed.
Then she did something with her mouth, pulling his aching flesh deep. He hissed in pain, his gaze rising, and he suddenly met Ragen's eyes. The man's whole body was rigid, intense, his jaw working as he fucked his friend's wife for the second time in one day. Just by looking at him, Loren could tell that he wasn't about to come anytime soon. He was not a man who ever lost control.
Ragen smiled at him. "Feeling good, Captain?"
Loren nodded. "So good."
Ragen licked his lips in a way that reminded Loren of a slowly moving snake.
Before Loren could think too hard about this, Ragen nodded past him.
Loren turned and drew a sharp, astonished breath at what had been happening behind him this whole time. Duke Read sat in Ragen's chair still, but now he was gripping the arms with both hands, leaning back hard, as if he were being blasted with wind. His mouth opened in a slew of curse words, eyes squeezing shut.
In his lap, Teijo's head bobbed.
Loren could not believe what he was seeing. Teijo, a man twice Read's height and muscle, the lieutenant general of the largest nation in the world, had his mouth on another man's dick.
And as Loren watched, the duke shattered, letting go of the chair to force Teijo down as he groaned. Teijo went still, no doubt taking the duke's cum straight to the throat.
Loren felt himself growing harder, finally. He looked back at Ragen.
"Power," Ragen said. "That's what—power looks like."
Around Loren's penis, the Lady Read whimpered.
Six
The duke didn't keep his promise to his wife. Over the next two hours, he let Teijo fuck her again, and then Loren, and then he fucked her himself. Their charade of violence fell apart in the second round, the night punctuated by her cries as her suitors tended to her needs, albeit sloppily, as they were getting shit drunk. Only Ragen never finished, never swayed on his feet. Loren wondered if he even could finish. He'd heard rumors about the king's brother, about his incredible fortitude. Maybe there was no woman alive who could make him come.
When Loren finally accepted defeat, it was well past midnight. He stared lazily at a dark grate in the corner of the room, feeling satisfied and inebriated as he lay on his side, buried deep in the study’s plush rug. He couldn't take his eyes off the grate, couldn't focus on anything else. His brain felt flat, dead, incapable of any thought beyond that simple, small abyss.
Teijo and Jessyne had already left—how long ago, he wasn't sure. Somewhere behind him, the duke was sloppily sucking on something. On Ragen. Power, indeed.
"That's enough, Ross," Ragen said gruffly. "You go join your wife now."
Ross said nothing, but Loren heard the stumble in his steps as he wandered off. The door closed, and the fire crackled. The heavy weight of Ragen settled behind his back on the rug. The man’s big hand rested on Loren's naked hip; Loren had given up on wearing pants some time ago. He wasn't even sure where they'd landed.
"Did you enjoy yourself, boy?" Ragen said softly. Loren murmured that he had. He imagined he heard something, a shuffle, a small sound in the grate.
"Did you enjoy her?" Ragen asked. "Lady Jessyne? Tightest pussy this side of the border, despite how often it gets used."
Loren nodded, frowning at the language. It was coarse, even for Ragen. Dark. He’d never heard the man speak about a woman that way. Loren wondered vaguely if he should correct him. A woman’s tightness had nothing to do with how many lovers she’d had. Loren had been in enough beds to know that....
Dazed now, he forced his thoughts to circle back to Ragen’s question. Lady Read. Lady Jessyne. Yes, Loren had enjoyed her. He had liked making her solid from his Stone magic, unable to move and unable to fight him. He had liked the way she got off on his control—not once, but several times.
He frowned. Lady Read, he thought again. Something about Lady Read....
Loren sat up sharply, but the room spun, the dying flames pirouetting alongside the shadows. Ragen had to catch him by both shoulders to keep him from falling back over.
"I was—I was supposed to ask her..." Loren mumbled.
"Ask her what?" Ragen breathed, his mouth by Loren's ear.
"Her daughter," Loren said, his mouth dry. He blinked hopelessly at the grate. "I was supposed to ask if she would let Lassyne see her friend...." It was all fuzzy. What had he promised?
"Shh," R
agen said, and the sound took some of the tension out of Loren. "You can talk to her tomorrow. Time to get up now...."
Loren nodded. Yes. Tomorrow. Struggling, he rose onto all fours.
"Wait," Ragen said.
Loren paused for only a moment, and then suddenly he realized where he was, what he was doing. Naked from the waist down, with his back to Ragen Wise. The man who started the night asking Duke Read for money, and ended the night with Duke Read's tongue on his cock.
Power, he'd said. That's what power looks like.
Shivers racing along his bare legs, Loren started to stand—
And Ragen pressed his face to the floor from behind.
"Now, now," Ragen said. "Let's not be too hasty. You heard the duke—the night's not over until all of us come."
Now it was Loren who was struggling, Loren who was crying. Somewhere in his liquored mind, he knew he had to move, to run, to swing his fists—
But he was too drunk. Ragen had made him too drunk.
And so, he had no choice but to lie there and take what came next. It seemed to happen slowly, almost to someone else. He wondered if he liked it, if he was faking the same way Jessyne had been faking, if the wet lines on his cheeks and his whimpers were not real.
But they were real, and every passing second made it worse, made him more awake and more terrified and more sick. Power. This is what power looks like.
He was sobbing by the time Ragen came.
When it was over, Loren laid on the floor while the bigger man left him. He stared at the grate, and he hallucinated. There was a child in that darkness, a golden-eyed girl. She was watching him, a hand on her mouth to bite back her scream. He watched her start to cry, and then he cried too. He cried like a child until he had no moisture left, until the girl disappeared, until he was half-sober.
Then he rose on feeble legs, and scrounged around for his pants. He found them on the glass bar, beside a tumbler of darici, a written note, and a stack of gold marks.
He stared at the marks, uncomprehending. He leaned over the note.