by Ophelia Bell
“You wish your master to mark you, don’t you, little beast?” His eyes flashed with sudden understanding. “Of course! You crave being branded by me permanently.”
Nikhil’s entire body tensed around her and his aura swelled. He lifted her in his arms and stood her up, turning her to face him rather than the archway that led to the bedroom.
“No peeking,” he said with a sly smile, producing a dry length of silk and securing it around her head to obscure her sight again. “You will see soon enough what I have planned.”
Turning her, he pushed her forward. She knew the room well enough to stride confidently through, even blind, but he pulled her to a stop abruptly when she was about halfway in. Lifting her up again, he set her down atop a piece of furniture that hadn’t previously been in the center of the room. This was the source of the cut-wood scent, she realized, and now that she was on it, she let her hands slide over the soft, cushioned surface. The smell and texture of fine silk surprised her and made her wonder to what lengths he had gone in such a short time to create whatever this was, or if this was something he had planned all along.
Nikhil urged her to lie back and she found herself prone atop something as comfortable as her bed, but barely as wide as her own backside. Her feet didn’t find purchase at first, hanging down over the edge, as did her arms. There was nothing beneath the odd platform and she had the oddest sense of being laid down on a tree branch. Her limbs didn’t dangle for long. Nikhil lifted one ankle and pulled it wide, resting it on a similar narrow, cushioned surface before binding it with ropes to the contraption. He bound her other ankle similarly, spreading her legs wide in the process.
Belah’s pussy clenched at the gust of hot breath that preceded Nikhil’s words, spoken within inches of her parted flesh.
“You are beautiful bound and ready for me, ‘Iilahatan. I am going to enjoy fucking you tonight.” With that, he pressed his lips against her slick folds, kissing between her legs so thoroughly Belah cried out in ecstasy.
With a reluctant groan, Nikhil pulled his mouth away from her, leaving her hot and dripping in the cool evening air. He stood again and moved around to her side, then lifted her arms and raised them above her head, binding each wrist on cross-pieces that extended above her.
Nikhil disappeared for a moment and Belah could hear his footsteps move to the cabinet beside the bed. He was going for her oils and toys—or at least, that was what it sounded like. When he returned, the scent of sweet almond oil accompanied him. The warm oil landed between her breasts in a puddle reminding her of the times he had tormented her with hot candle wax, but she hoped he would go beyond candles tonight.
With both hands, he smoothed the oil over her breasts, working it in before spreading it down her torso. He took his time, drizzling more oil at intervals until he had methodically massaged it into every exposed inch of her body. He avoided her cunt this time, much to her discomfort—she craved his touch on all of her, and particularly in that spot.
Then he paused for what seemed like an eternity. Belah knew he hadn’t moved away—she could still hear his heartbeat, could still feel the familiar tingling brush of his aura against her own, their magic twining together. Finally, she sensed the slightest movement, and his scent wafted to her nose. Pure arousal was what she smelled. She wished she could see him now. Was he still naked? She thought so—and how magnificent he must look with his hair unbound around his shoulders and his cock hard and thick, jutting out from the dark nest between his legs.
A weight rested against her breastbone and he stilled again. What was it? She inhaled deeply, letting her chest rise and fall as she tried to get a sense of the object. It was long and narrow, heavier at one end. It also seemed to possess its own faint aura, and she knew.
The dagger. He planned to tease her as unmercifully with it as he did with every new game he introduced her to. Her nipples grew harder and her clit throbbed at the thought of what he might do—what he no doubt was eager to do.
“I know you need pain as much as I wish to provide it, little beast. And I know there is another thing you wish for, too. That I will grant you eventually, but for now, I intend to indulge myself with your gift.”
He traced a fingertip down the center of her belly, all the way to the apex of her thighs. He dipped between her folds, rubbing lightly with the pad of a fingertip against her aching clit. When she was panting with desire, he stopped. The dagger left her chest and the soft sound of the leather sheathe sliding off the blade caused her to tense.
Belah’s breathing quickened, her body alight while she waited for the first cut, but for the longest time he simply kept teasing her. He rested his palm on her lower abdomen and slid it down over her oiled skin until his fingertips were threaded between the folds of her pussy again. He rubbed his fingers up and down in her hot wetness, avoiding direct contact with her clit but caressing either side of it with the length of his fingers.
The first cut was barely a nick, and she almost didn’t feel it. The quickening of his heartbeat and the push of air beneath her breast let her know he’d done something different. A second later, the sharp sting blossomed through her from the cut on the underside of her breast, just beneath her nipple. While she was still processing the sensation, he made another cut in the same spot beneath her other breast.
“When I take a prisoner in battle, this is the treatment they get from me. They aren’t honored with a bath beforehand, or bound to a cushioned cross, and I certainly have never used such an exquisite instrument as this to give them pain. How does it feel, little beast? Ready for more?”
The entire time he spoke, his fingers continued toying with her pussy, sometimes pushing deep into her, other times simply cupping her and letting his palm press infuriatingly against her clit without moving. He traced the edge of her jaw with the flat of the small blade. The knife itself was no longer than one of his fingers and as narrow as a reed, but both edges were razor-sharp. Both her breasts burned with the pain of those two small cuts, but Belah could feel them healing already, her body’s natural defenses had sensed the blood seeping out and begun repairing the damage. Still, she could feel the trails of warm fluid making their way along the curve of the crease beneath her breasts and over her ribcage.
“More. I need more. And please, let me see it. I’ve never laid eyes on my own blood before.”
The room tilted and the blindfold fell off. Belah found herself leaning at a diagonal angle against the platform, her bound feet resting on soft ledges. Nikhil stood facing her and she took in his tall, powerful shape. He was, indeed, naked and fully erect, the gold paint gone and his skin flushed with heat, in spite of the cool evening air that came in through the balcony doorway. His massive chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. The primal beast she loved was alive behind his eyes and he clutched the dagger in one hand, held as naturally as though it were an extension of his body.
He moved close, the contraption she was tied to offering space between her spread thighs for him to stand. The thick length of his cock brushed the very top of her aching slit and he pressed against her while he eyed her breasts.
Nikhil grazed the sharp tip of the blade over the upper swell of one breast, just hard enough for her to feel without actually breaking skin. Belah stared down, enraptured by the sight of the point and the pink line it left behind. He made another line on the top of her other breast, as though marking the cut before making it.
“Go slow,” she whispered when he positioned the blade back at the start of the first line and pushed in, pricking ever so gently but enough for her to feel the skin break and see a tiny, crimson droplet rise up from beneath her honey-colored skin.
He pulled the blade back, his breathing ragged. Instead of cutting her, he kissed her, the hand holding the blade cupping her cheek while he caressed between her lips with his hot tongue. Between them, he gripped his cock and tilted his hips back, positioning his thick head at h
er entrance. He only pushed in a tiny bit, and when he pulled back from the kiss, raw, hungry need filled his gaze.
“Do you have any idea how you honor me by allowing this?” he said hoarsely. “’Iilahatan, you are my heart. I would bleed a thousand men to make you happy, yet you only wish that I bleed you.”
He pressed the tip of the blade back to her breast and exerted just enough pressure to pierce her skin again. As he drew the blade across her flesh, he pushed his cock deeper. Belah stared down, fascinated by the way her skin opened and her blood welled up from beneath. The scent of it startled her at first—it smelled nothing like human blood, but was both sweet and tangy like the juice of some exotic fruit. It mixed in her nostrils with the scent of sex when Nikhil pulled out of her again and pushed back in, just as slowly as before while he began the second cut.
These were deeper than the first two, and the pain dragged across, flooding her with sensation as exquisite as the stretch of his cock against the walls of her pussy.
With a groan, Nikhil jabbed the knife into the cushioned support beside Belah’s head and cupped her breasts in both hands. He shifted his hips back, pulled out of her to the tip and slammed back in so hard he shoved her up the platform.
When he bent his head to capture her nipple in his mouth, the cut on that breast widened, more blood flowing slowly over the flesh and the stinging pain of it perfectly merging with the pleasure of his mouth suckling her hard tip. He tilted his head back and darted out his tongue, sliding the tip of it along the length of the cut and gathering her blood as he went. The sensation was as arousing as if he had run his tongue between her legs and Belah threw her head back with a groan of pleasure.
“Yes, Nikhil. Taste me.” The words fell from her lips even as a niggling memory flickered in the back of her mind. Something she’d been told thousands of years before about the proper ways to transfer power to a mate. But she couldn’t remember and didn’t care. All she cared about was the exquisite pleasure he gave her now.
He continued pumping into her while he tongued her breasts, nipping at her nipples and sucking at the cuts on her breasts as though her blood were mother’s milk. Each time he did, pain flooded her senses until she was nothing more than sensation.
Nikhil looked up at her after a moment, with beads of sweat covering his brow and glistening on his chest. His lips were red from tasting her and slick when they pressed against hers. Her own flavor hit her tongue and the taste was even more erotic than the flavor of his semen and her own sex juices combined. That it was his tongue transferring the liquid to her mouth made the pleasure surge even higher through her body.
His hips thrust his cock deeper, battering her insides repeatedly with each fresh thrust. She whimpered involuntarily against his mouth, overwhelmed by the combination of sensations.
“Does it hurt, little beast? Which hurts more: my cock, or the cuts I gave you?” He bent his head to bite hard at one of the cuts before gathering a mouthful of her breast between his lips and sucking hard. His tongue swirled over and over her nipple and around to both cuts that bracketed it top and bottom until the sensations became one, thrumming through her body to her core, where he kept fucking her harder and harder.
As amazing as he was making her feel in that moment, she knew deep down that this was more for him than it was for her. Even though he gave her more pleasure than ever before, he was reserving her true gift until after he’d had his fill of hurting her.
The thought of what was in store caused a sudden tremor to pass through her. She yelled out his name, the syllables broken by the pounding thrusts of his cock pushing air from her lungs. A second later he yelled hers in return and his cock throbbed and pulsed with his climax, his orgasm flooding hotly into her.
Belah could only lay back and take all he had to give, from the steady, wet heat of his semen filling her to the newness of his energy, now enhanced by the blessings he’d been given during their wedding ceremony. His energy tasted like life, like sunlight and rain and growing things, like air and water, earth and fire. She had reveled in it earlier in the day when they had first consummated their marriage along the streets of the city in full view of her people.
Something was different now, however. Like the dark threads she’d sensed in him months ago when she worried that his dragon blessing might be damaging his mind, a new thread was laced through the power with a frightening potency. It was something beyond simply life, and with a jolt she realized it was her own essence. But not the essence that a willing gift would provide its recipient. Her essence, taken directly from her body in a way that she could never willingly give except to her own offspring.
Nikhil had taken her blood into himself, and the shocking understanding of what that could mean terrified her. Never in the long history of her race had a human taken a dragon’s blood, much less the blood of an immortal like her. The memory that had eluded her before came surging back—the warning from her mother that a dragon’s blood should never be taken. Yet Belah had willingly orchestrated the taking of it, so surely that mattered? It must matter, somehow, because she could still sense the love in him.
With that exchange came a connection the likes of which she had never imagined. When Nikhil slipped out of her and strode away, his shoulders heaving from his exertion, every nuance of his thoughts were apparent to her, even down to the darkest wishes he kept locked deep inside his very soul.
What she saw beyond the very real and powerful love he had for her was something far darker. It lay dormant beneath the gifts he’d been given, subdued by the power of their love. Belah was comforted by that, at least. Everyone carried some amount of darkness in them, after all. But within Nikhil, it was like the sleeping leviathan that should never be awakened, lest you invite destruction upon the world.
That he was hers now meant she could at least control that darkness, to ensure it never saw the light. She alone had the power to provide him with the outlet he needed to keep his darkness sated.
She strained at her bindings, wanting to break them and go to him, to comfort the turmoil that raged through his mind. He wanted to cut her more, to see her blood flow. The ache was like a hunger inside him as strong as his desire to fuck her. That ache was tied to his darkness, and yet the part of him that rebelled against it was the part that wanted to please her.
He stood stock still a few paces away now, his entire body tense, and the knife still in his hand, its blade aimed at the floor.
“I need more of you, Belah,” he said in a strained voice over his shoulder, somehow too unsure about what he was about to say to face her directly. “Your pain is perfect, and to see your blood flow, to taste it, makes me feel so powerful. Like I am truly worthy to be the mate of a goddess. Perhaps someday I will be your equal if I do this. If I take all you have to give. Will you let me take it? It is what you want, too, is it not? I won’t waste a drop, I promise.”
“What will you take?” she asked, sure she knew the answer already but hoping he would turn back and tell her directly.
His shoulders quivered and she wished she could touch him, but he’d bound her. She could have easily broken the bonds, as strong as she was, but to do that would negate her trust in him.
Nikhil turned to face her, his expression haunted. His hair clung to the side of his face and he pushed it back vehemently. The usual wildness she loved in him was present in his eyes, but something new had taken residence. A craving she didn’t quite understand.
“Your life, my love. That’s what you want me to take, isn’t it?”
“You know it’s only temporary. I can’t die, Nikhil. I can never die. My life is infinite, and that infinite life I give to you. What you give me in return is everything I have always desired.”
He shook his head. “Don’t you see? What I have to give is no match for what you offer. No, you want me to mark you, remember? To brand you as mine. You would be mine for an eternity, but what go
od is that if I don’t have eternity to spend with you? No, I will only give you tonight like this. When we are done and you wake up, I want you to mark me truly. I understand what it means, but it is my free will to sacrifice, is it not?”
“Please don’t ask for that,” she said. The cuts on her breasts still twinged with pain, though they were healing swiftly, but the pain within her chest came from a deeper cut—one he couldn’t see.
“I have lived for this moment, ‘Iilahatan. After I’m done, I only ask that you mark me, and then we can have an eternity together for you to remind me that you are my little beast. Mine.”
Belah stared at him, shocked by the earnest look he gave her and the absolute desperation that flashed like a fresh bruise through his aura. Her heart ached and for the first time her resolve crumbled.
“My love, I cannot say no to you when I am at your mercy like this.”
“Then it is settled,” he said.
Chapter Twenty
Nikhil picked up a small stack of clay pots with one hand and strode toward her. With a flick of the hand that held the knife, he turned it so the flat of the blade was in front of her mouth. “Open,” he said. She did, and he rested the blade against her teeth.
Belah clamped down on the blade and watched him while he placed the ceramic bowls at each of the four corners of the platform she was bound to. Once he seemed satisfied with their placement, he took the blade from her teeth and kissed her with the slowest, hottest press of his mouth.
The kiss grew in fervor as his cock thickened between them, rubbing against the slickness between her thighs. He didn’t enter her again, but kept his cock sliding up and down, spreading delicious sensation over her clit.
While they kissed he reached both hands out, sliding them up along the insides of her arms. When he reached her wrist, he pressed the blade’s tip to the hollow of tender flesh, just beneath where her binding held her.
The pain seared her in a blinding rush that continued as he let the blade sink in, deeper than he had with the cuts on her breasts. The sweet scent of her blood rose again as the warm fluid trickled down her arm before a steady stream of it hit the carefully placed bowl beneath her.