Finally, Igraine stopped in front of a smaller tunnel. She was trembling like a lamb about to enter the lion’s lair. Taking a deep breath, she followed the narrow passage for a while until it bent into a larger cave. She paused at the entrance until her eyes adjusted to the gloomy light. A soft sigh escaped her lips when she finally saw the prince's chamber.
The cave’s walls and high ceiling were decorated with ancient runes and beautifully painted images depicting what she assumed was elven history. There were pictures of graceful maidens walking under trees, fairies weaving flowers into their hair. An old king sat on his throne with a young elven knight kneeling before him, around them all kinds of magical creatures she could never have dreamed existed – dwarfs, trolls, even a group of centaurs at play. But there were also other paintings, with armored warriors fighting against humans who were slaughtering their innocent women and children, burning down dwellings and woods, panic-stricken animals fleeing as they approached.
Between the paintings, climbing plants and unknown, exotic flowers grew on the walls, their green leaves radiating a magical light that softened the shadows of the cave. Countless tiny fireflies seemed to be scattered all over the ceiling, giving it the look of an open night sky sparkling with stars. There were several openings leading to smaller caverns. One of them must be the prince’s bedchamber and the other his training area, Igraine presumed. The smallest passage to her right seemed to emanate a pleasant warmth and a faint sulfuric odor as fumes emerged from the opening.
The cave Igraine had entered was obviously used as Elathan’s bathing chamber. It opened into a small lake which descended into the darkness in one corner, possibly being fed by an underground stream. At the mossy edge of the lake there was a small wooden table adorned with delicate carvings. It held different bottles made of colored glass and linen towels. Right beside it, soft silken cushions and blankets covered the floor for the prince’s comfort. There was even a small waterfall coming out of the rock, reuniting with the dark waters of the lake.
Turning again in the direction from which the strange vapors came, Igraine dared to follow the corridor into the cave. At first she wasn’t able to see clearly, for the room was dark and misty, with fumes wavering in the air. An intense, but not unpleasant earthy smell reached her nose, making her feel dizzy. When the air cleared a bit, she saw a pool in the middle of the round chamber, with only a narrow space of solid ground to walk around it. The inside of the pool was pitch black, filled with a thick, bubbling substance which emitted the fumes. She assumed that this was some kind of mineral mud warmed by underground hot springs.
“Are my chambers to your liking, human?” a deep, mocking voice asked. Igraine screamed out when she noticed Elathan in the middle of the pool, with only his head and wide shoulders above the surface. His long hair was drenched in mud, the long strands glued to his skin. Her mouth went dry.
He watched her silently, fascinated by the way she looked at her surroundings, eyes open wide in wonder like a child’s. Unable to speak a word, she stared at the prince as he slowly stood up, first lifting up one knee before he gracefully emerged from the dark mire. Apart from the space around his eyes, the prince was covered from head to toe in wet black mud. It made him look like an ancient god climbing out of the depths of the earth. For a moment she wondered if he had come to draw her down with him into the netherworld.
Besides the mud, the prince was completely naked. She didn’t dare to look down, at the place between his muscular thighs, so she quickly averted her eyes. The sight of his athletic body, shining like a statue made of polished black basalt, was breathtaking.
Elathan crossed the chamber, exuding strength with every movement. He didn’t bother to cover his nakedness. Pausing before her, he studied her face for a moment, searching for something. Igraine looked up at the black pagan god who had come to steal her soul – or was he a demon? Either way, she belonged to him now, as long as he chose to let her live.
“Now follow me, wench, and do what you were sent for,” Elathan ordered with a sudden angry look on his face, narrowing his eyes. “Bathe me.”
* * * * *
Elathan stood at the edge of the lake, waiting for Igraine to serve him. “What do you want me to do, my Lord?” she asked, still avoiding looking at his private parts.
“Don’t you filthy humans even know how to wash?” he hissed impatiently. He gestured to the ornate table. "These vials contain soaps and oils. Use them to bathe my body, slave.” The prince stepped under the waterfall, rinsing off part of the mud, but it stuck to his skin and hair. Igraine sniffed at some of the bottles, inhaling their wonderful, unknown scents. Some of them were fresh, others musky, but clearly intended for use on the gorgeous body of the male who was showering right in front of her, naked. Water drops glistened on his skin, running down from his chest to his flat, rippling stomach and still further down, gathering at … "Why do I feel like I'm in midst of a Cool Water commercial now?" she nervously murmured, wincing when the elf threw her a glance that clearly declared her a lunatic.
Sighing, Igraine took a small green bottle containing a soapy liquid and followed the prince. Elathan stepped out of his natural shower without even looking at her. Closing his eyes, he turned his broad back to Igraine, with the unspoken order to wash him. She poured some of the aromatic soap into the palm of her hand. It smelled like fresh moss, but there was also an undertone she didn’t recognize. The mud was diluted by the water, but it still ran in dark streams over the elf’s body, down over his hips and his muscular backside, dripping over his thighs. It collected in a puddle at his feet.
Igraine’s hands trembled when she reached out to touch him. “May I …?” she said softly. “What are you waiting for?” Elathan replied. Despite the harsh words, his voice was low and hoarse. She couldn’t see the expression of his face from behind, but she noticed his rigid posture. Tears of frustration came to her eyes when she realized how much he despised her. Apart from being human, her undignified behavior last night surely had not helped to change his opinion. His contempt for her was obvious.
Taking a deep breath, she fought back her tears and started with his dirty hair, lathering it with the luxurious soap. Black, muddy water ran through her fingers and down her arms. When she had worked the soap into the whole silken length, she reached up to massage his scalp. Elathan stiffened before tilting his head back so she could reach him more easily. After she had washed all the mud out of his hair, she reached out to touch his shoulders, covering his pale skin with the soap.
Elathan stiffened even more, looking like a statue of stone now. Her hands wandered to the sides of his neck to wash the dirt away, then moved down over his shoulders, rubbing him in circles. His skin was smooth and soft as velvet over his rock-hard muscles. How much she loved to touch him! No man had ever affected her so much. Just being close to him made her a weak creature, driven by the most primitive desire to mate.
Now that he couldn’t see her shamelessly staring at him, she was safe to admire his muscular back. It was built like an artist’s masterpiece. The scars marring his alabaster skin only enhanced his beauty. Without them, the sight would be too perfect for human eyes to endure. They were old, faint scars, diagonally crisscrossing all over his back. Igraine suddenly realized that the prince had been whipped, even if it had obviously happened long ago. Tears stinging in her eyes, she lightly traced the scars with her fingers while she washed his back. Although she didn't dare, she longed to touch those reminders of his torment with her lips, kissing the ancient pain away.
Continuing with his waist, she found some very nasty grime there, sticking to the prince’s skin. As she rubbed his sides to get them clean, Elathan seemed to wince. She paused, but when he said nothing, she rubbed some more. He winced again, apparently trying to escape her touch. At first she stared at his back, baffled for a moment. Maybe he didn't like her to touch him anymore. But then she understood.
The merciless, battle-hardened elven prince was ticklish.
Suddenly a mischievous grin spread across her face. Well, even if he would kill her afterwards, this princely backside would be worth it. Now your ass is mine, Your Royal Highness, she thought. She just couldn’t help it. Then her hands touched his muscular buttocks, lathering the soap in small circles over the skin. Maybe being an elven prince's slave wasn't so bad, after all. When Elathan moaned ever so softly, she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. A small giggle escaped her lips.
Strong hands grabbed her upper arms. Igraine was whirled around until she stared directly into Elathan’s furious face, his golden eyes burning with anger. Before she could move or utter a sound, he picked her up like a weightless doll and threw her into the lake.
All of this happened so quickly that she didn't even have time to hold her breath. She sank into the dark water and struggled for a moment in panic. Then she managed to reach the surface and came up, coughing and gasping for air. The water was surprisingly warm, probably caused by the same underground springs that also heated the pool of mud in the adjoining chamber.
Bewildered, she was still wondering what had happened when Elathan was suddenly in there with her, wading through the lake and quickly rinsing off the soap from his hair and body. His pitiless grin let her know that he found her distress entertaining.
"You!" she shouted angrily, shoving against his chest with both hands. The fact that his eyes widened with surprise gave her a certain amount of satisfaction, but not enough. "Prince or not, who the hell do you think you are? First you abduct and enslave me, threatening to kill me if I don't obey your every wish and whim. You hate humans, and still you don't bother to kill me. Instead, you seem to enjoy your little game of humiliating me. Why don't you finally get it over with, elf? You incredibly arrogant, insufferable…"
He grabbed her wrists and bent her arms behind her back with a swift movement. Simultaneously, he silenced her with a hard, passionate kiss. At first, Igraine tried to push him away, bite him, whatever caused him enough pain to let her go. But then, unexpectedly, his lips claimed hers with a tenderness that shook her to the core, and she sank into his embrace, kissing him back while he teased her with his tongue, slowly, seductively. He released her hands, and his fingers caressed the back of her neck while he molded her against his naked body. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him, fearing that her knees gave away under her. His kiss did something to her she had never known before.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself a bit too much, human, when you served me at the waterfall. I decided that you needed to cool down," he mocked her when he finally released her from his arms. His eyes wandered adoringly over Igraine's body, desire glowing up from their golden depths. She looked down at herself and discovered that the dripping wet clothes clung to her body like a second skin. The wetness had made her dress almost transparent, so that not much was left to the prince’s imagination – her tight, voluptuous breasts, their hardened peaks clearly visible under the thin, moist fabric; the lush curves of her hips, the soft mound of the secret place between her legs that ached and throbbed for him.
She thought about covering herself with her hands, but the prince didn’t seem too displeased with what he saw. Actually, he looked positively awestruck while he watched her. Igraine felt something that could only be described as female triumph. She loved it when he looked at her like this, with raw, untamed desire in his eyes.
“You are an impertinent wench, but I will be patient as this is your first day serving me. The way you bathed my body pleased me well enough,” Elathan said after a while, a roguish smile on his face that caused her heart to miss a beat. “But has it already occurred to you that you did not finish your task properly?”
“My … task?” stammered Igraine, but fell silent when Elathan took a step back in the water, then another one, until he stood fully naked at the lake’s edge. This time, she didn't avert her eyes but openly stared at his proudly erect manhood, mesmerized. Its size was truly fit for a prince, matching his powerful warrior’s body. He was painfully beautiful and frightening at the same time. Her heart stopped for a second, until she remembered how to breathe.
Elathan lay down on his back in the soft green moss surrounding the lake, stretching out his arms over his head like a lazy cat in the sun. His lower half was still in the water, his shaft rising above the surface. Igraine felt a fierce, liquid heat unfurling in her body's core, leaving her wet and ready for him. She needed to feel him inside her, wanted him desperately.
“Come here, lovely slave,” Elathan’s voice beckoned her, “and continue to bathe me as you were told.”
Evidently, the part of his body he wished her to bathe was already clean and not in need of washing. But who was she, a lowly human, to argue with a prince, she thought, smiling to herself.
She didn’t know how she had found the courage to approach this paragon of male beauty lying at the lake’s edge. But then she was kneeling down at his side, spreading her legs so she could sit astride his thighs. Holding her breath, she reached for him and took his length into her hand, feeling his strength. Elathan groaned when she squeezed him lightly. He pushed himself up into her hand, wanting more.
Without letting him go, Igraine stretched her free hand out to the nearby table and took one of the bottles which she remembered containing an oily liquid. She let a few drops of the balm trickle over the tip of his manhood. A sweet earthy scent filled the air that seemed to be made just for him. Elathan lay very still as he watched her every move with predatory eyes. But when she started to massage the oil into his skin, he threw back his head with a sensual moan that made her shiver with pleasure.
“Relax, my Prince,” she dared to say. “I am only bathing you, just as you wished.” She didn’t know if Elathan listened to her words, for he had closed his eyes and moved against her hand as she rubbed his whole length up and down, up and down again. Tiny pearls of sweat glistened on his brow, and his shimmering hair, still wet from the bath, spread out like a waterfall of silver over his broad shoulders. She squeezed him harder. He let out a deep growl, moving his hips faster along with her fingers.
She loved to watch him lose control, while he took so eagerly the pleasure she gave him. His sight made her womanhood ache with want, and she started to rub herself against his thigh just a little bit. He seemed to have noticed and grabbed her hips to press her down on his body, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Igraine enjoyed the sight of his glorious body before her, the display of lust on his face. All at once, it wasn’t enough to just touch him anymore. She desperately wanted to taste him, needed to feel him in her mouth. She spread her legs even wider and slid down his legs. Finally, she lay flat on top of him, with the warm water softly lapping at their heated bodies.
Slowly she lowered her head and kissed his arousal, very tenderly at first, while her hand still encircled its base. Elathan entwined his fingers in her dark hair, pulling her head up so he could look in her eyes, questioning. She understood. He didn’t want her to do this only because she was a slave, frightened of him.
“I want this,” she breathed. Then she added, like the softest whisper, “Elathan.” She had to speak out his name, even if it meant her death for defying his orders. The word escaped her lips like a lover's sigh. This time, the p
rince surrendered and lay back on the soft moss, closing his eyes.
Then she opened her lips for him and took him into her mouth. The elf groaned and pushed up his hips to meet her. She teased him at first, circling only the tip with her tongue before licking his shaft up and down, wickedly imitating the movements of her hand before. She felt how he grew even thicker between her lips. He tasted wonderful and deliciously male. Most of all, she loved the power she held over this otherworldly beautiful warrior, even if only for a short moment.
The heat emanating from his arousal seemed to burn her as he throbbed and pulsated, taking possession of her mouth. Her tongue played with him, teasing him until he moaned with frustration, demanding more of her sensual torture.
Elathan. Her mind kept saying his name again and again like a melody that made her soul sing with joy. When she heard him groan again, she suckled him even harder. At the same time she increased the pressure of her fingers and massaged him, enhancing his pleasure. It was a strange, exciting feeling to serve the prince as his love slave while watching him surrendering his body to her. Whatever they called their present relationship, she was the one in control right now.
His fingers were entwined in her hair, holding her imprisoned while she continued to heighten his desire. Pure rapture on his face, he watched her under half-closed lids before he threw back his head and closed his eyes. Then, the elf's body tightened under hers, and he growled like a wild animal that took possession of its mate, shuddering with release. He tasted even better than he smelled, like the sweetest nectar imaginable, and she licked away every drop he gave her. Suddenly, she heard his voice in her head. It was just one word, as clearly as if he had it spoken out loud.
Mine.
Without warning, an overwhelming climax ripped through her body. Igraine pressed her face to his flat stomach and clung to him, moaning, while the giant wave rolled over her and took her away. She shook with ecstasy, although she hadn't done anything except rub herself against his thigh very slightly, fully clothed. Although a thing like that shouldn't be possible, her own desire had grown along with his, and their minds had connected. She had felt him reach the highest peak as if it was her own. The elf knew what had happened, too. For a short moment, he opened his eyes and looked at her, bewilderment on his face while he gently stroked her cheek.
Bound to the Prince Page 7