Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  “Ladies first.” Errion considered her as he sipped his drink.

  “As I was just informing Lorren, I am no lady.” As if to prove her point, she quaffed her drink in one gulp.

  Lorren thought for sure her eyes would bulge and she’d gag on the brandy, if not the fumes, but she handled the shot as well as any man. His estimation of her as a dominatrix went up another notch, not only for the drink but for the way she’d deftly tossed the elusive answer back onto Errion.

  For once, Errion’s smug little smile faded. He clearly was not expecting her to defy him so openly nor so thoroughly. Lorren’s curiosity was almost as piqued as his lust. For a moment, he actually considered binding both of them until he got an answer. As appealing as that idea was to his beast, doing so would take all the fun out of watching them struggle for the upper hand.

  Farjika held her own, refusing to back down despite her apprehension. Rather than fiddle with her empty glass, she turned and held it out to Lorren.

  Nodding, he dutifully fetched her another drink. When he handed it to her, his fingertips brushed against her hand, and he almost felt sparks. She was practically vibrating. But with what? He couldn’t tell if fear, fury, or flat-out indignation fueled her behavior. Whatever it was, her eyes sparkled, and her entire face and body came alive, almost surging forward.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lorren’s practiced bow elicited a brief smile that vanished when she again considered Errion.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed about what happened at one of the shops today.” Errion moved purposely toward the statue of the bound woman. Trailing his fingers along the rope between her breasts, he swirled his drink in his hand. “I’m quite sure Lorren would completely understand.”

  As Lorren watched her watching Errion, he was stunned to see her nipples harden and the drink in her hand tremble enough to splash against her fist. Errion might enrage her, but something about him inadvertently excited her. Coming to her rescue, Lorren took the drink back and set it aside on the table along with his own.

  “Tell me, Farjika.” Deliberately, he stood between her and Errion, blocking her view of him. Without her heels on, Farjika had to tilt her head back quite a ways to meet his gaze. When she did, she swallowed.

  “He made me…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  “I made you?” Errion asked from across the room. “Tell him the truth, Farjika.”

  Lorren didn’t think she really needed to. He had a pretty good idea of what Errion had done. Somehow, he’d backed her into a corner and compelled her to act out one of his perverted little dreams. Errion had a real knack for manipulating people. Often they thought what he’d gotten them to do was their own idea.

  Leaning close, taking a long, deep breath of her exotic scent, Lorren cupped her chin with one hand as he traced his thumb across her lips. “Were you a bad girl?”

  She shivered as her eyes closed.

  “She was a very bad girl,” Errion confirmed.

  Ignoring him, Lorren’s entire body drew ready when he lifted her head, exposing the full length of her vulnerable neck. Her breath caught as his lips descended. Just before he made contact, he asked, “Should I punish you?”

  The enormous freestanding clock ticked loudly as her pulse danced against his hand. Disappointed, he was on the verge of pulling back when she softly whispered, “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he asked, holding steady.

  “You should punish me.”

  Pleased, he placed a delicate kiss just above her collarbone, then pulled away to study her face. “You let him touch you, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you let him fuck you?” Unconsciously, his fingers tightened on her chin. The thought of Errion within her grasping heat infuriated him.

  Before she could answer, Errion sidled near. “Tell him where you let me put my cock.”

  Eyes downcast, Farjika murmured, “In my bottom.”

  Lorren’s nostrils flared as fury filled him, but he didn’t take his gaze from Farjika.

  “That’s right, dear pal, I took the very last of her virginity. Mouth, cunny, bottom. Between the two of us, she’s been well indoctrinated.”

  “Only the tip.” Farjika frowned at Errion, then lowered her gaze submissively to Lorren. “He didn’t go all the way in.”

  Frustrated that Errion stole something valuable from him, Lorren decided there was nothing to be done about the situation now. What was gone was gone. Besides, her surrender to Errion gave Lorren all the permission he needed to indulge his beast.

  “Still, you let him find his pleasure with you, and I didn’t give you permission, did I?”

  “No.” Lifting her gaze slightly, she added, “But he made me.”

  Of that, Lorren had no doubt, but he wasn’t about to release her from responsibility. “You let him make you.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t argue with me, or I’ll make your punishment worse.”

  Trembling, she closed her mouth and stood very still.

  “So, what will we make her do first?” Errion was practically drooling as he wrapped his arm across Lorren’s shoulders.

  “Get your ropes.”

  Farjika’s head popped up. Surprise twisted her features as she watched Errion hurry from the room.

  “I knew it wasn’t your idea. But since you submitted to him once, a second time won’t hurt.” Lorren slid his hand down from her chin to her neck, then across the tops of her breasts. “How conflicted you must be inside, Farjika. Wanting independence, standing up for yourself, then turning right around and submitting not only to your true master, but apparently to any man who orders you about.” Circling her nipples with his forefinger, he made a slow trace around one, then the other, hardening them and causing her breath to catch. “Tell me, if one of your guards told you to suck his cock, would you?”

  “No!” The answer came automatically. “They are my slaves, not I theirs.” She rolled her eyes as if the entire idea were ludicrous.

  Lifting both hands, encircling her nipples and twisting slowly and firmly, he asked, “And if I ordered you on your knees and told you to suck one of them off, would you?”

  Like last night, she considered for a moment, then decided that he likely would never do such a thing, so she answered affirmatively.

  “That’s good, Farjika.” He released her nipples. “I’d like to watch the stunned face of one of your guards as you were forced to pleasure him.” Tauntingly, he fingered her mouth. “I dare say watching his confusion, his mix of longing to and terror of creaming down your throat would be a most delightful struggle.”

  Errion stood impatiently waiting for Lorren to finish teasing Farjika. Lorren sensed Errion’s excitement and his belief that he would be allowed to do whatever he pleased to her.

  Lorren removed his jacket and settled into the couch, drink in hand. He watched as Errion took Farjika to the center of the room and had her disrobe. As Lorren enjoyed the slow revelation of her amazing form, he popped apart the restrictive buttons of his shirt. Lorren sipped from his drink to hide a smirk that rivaled Errion’s in wickedness. Little did Errion realize that he too would suffer a punishment far worse than what he had planned for Farjika.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Draping the pre-fashioned collar of woven crimson rope around Farjika’s neck caused her to tense so drastically that Errion feared she’d pass out.

  “Take a deep breath,” he offered quietly as he fastened the tiny clasps. He double-checked that the collar was loose against her seductively long neck. Per his rigorous demands, the taru fit her perfectly. Standing to her side, adjusting the lengths of rope around her body, he used her head to block Lorren’s view of his mouth. Errion didn’t want Lorren to catch him doing anything to calm Farjika when such was in direct contrast to Lorren’s desire to punish her.

  When she breathed in, her bare breasts rose. Her softly peaked nipples trembled ever so slightly as a line of silk rop
e, a fen, rolled across her chest, then fell, centered directly from her neck to her feet. She seemed to calm as he strategically placed the nine lengths of rope around her. To his shock, his hands trembled.

  Excitement surged Errion to sharp awareness. After practicing the art of Fentaru for over fifteen turns, Errion considered himself a master, but he’d never decorated such a perfect body. If the divine crafted any woman for the art, He created Farjika. Her figure was flawlessly balanced to display all nine Fentaru forms. Draping the nine fen around her caused him to quiver, because she was perfectly balanced to the nines.

  Errion’s hand shivered with an inherent fear that he would never be able to display her adequately to such a connoisseur as Lorren. In a perplexing mix, Errion stiffened, determined to deliver beyond Lorren’s demanding expectations and his own.

  Just when Errion thought they were ready to proceed, Farjika glanced over and saw a series of sharp implements on a nearby table. Her eyes went so wide they practically swallowed her face.

  “Those are to cut you free in case of an emergency.” Errion kept his voice low and soothing. He enjoyed tormenting her, but this was neither the time nor place. Fentaru, or decorative rope binding, was not necessarily a dangerous indulgence, but Errion always kept a variety of knives and scissors handy in the event that something went wrong. Sometimes even experienced practitioners panicked and twisted the strands so hopelessly that they cut off blood flow to an appendage. “Being prepared is being prudent.”

  Farjika looked into his eyes as if gauging his honesty. “How can I possibly trust you?”

  “Ah, the crux of the matter.” Errion didn’t blame her one bit for doubting him. So far, all he’d done was endlessly torment her in an effort to bend her to his will. To his eternal consternation, she submitted, but she did so only after defying him at every turn. Errion admired and disliked her in alternate waves, but not because of her—more so over his own reaction to her. It pleased him to be attracted to such an interesting and accomplished woman, but he also despaired that she would ever find him as fascinating as he found her. Worse, Farjika would never surrender her will to him the way she did to Lorren.

  Lorren had nothing over her head, and yet she let him boss her without question. Not only did Errion have the images of her on stage, but he also had the captain of her guard imprisoned below. That should have been enough to ensure her compliance, and yet it wasn’t. Still, he must reassure her, for without trust, the stunning art of Fentaru could not be fully expressed.

  Tapping the end of her nose softly with his finger, Errion asked, “Do you honestly think Lorren would sit there and watch me strangle you or hack you to pieces?”

  Farjika smiled. Wanly, but still, she offered up a hesitant smile.

  “Of course not,” he admonished. “And my desire isn’t to hurt you. Fentaru is decorative, not restrictive.” Errion traced the fen that fell between her breasts. “The first night I met you, I commissioned this taru.” Errion encircled her neck, displaying the terms as he hoped to dispel her fears. He’d paid an exorbitant fee for an expedient collar, as glistening crimson was not a color they held in stock. However, the shop was more than happy to procure the crimson strands of silk and compel a dozen workers to bind them in the proscribed order, then bring the finished product to his manor within a bare quarter spin.

  “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Her voice was so low, so clear and plaintive, she almost brought tears to his eyes.

  “I would never hurt you.” Errion held her gaze, his hand ready to fashion the first form against her body. “I seek only to please you.” Lifting the center strand, he stepped out and wrapped the crimson cord around his fist, measuring the distance for the first of five knots. Once he had the mark, he quickly formed the knot. Before he tightened it, he pressed it close to her, to make sure the first and most critical knot was in the proper place. Ensuring it was, he tightened the rope, then pressed the crimson length against her torso again.

  The trifold knot he’d fashioned pressed against her belly button, but not for long. Yanking the rope away, Errion considered Farjika’s concerned face as he placed the strand against her, measured the length to her clit, and then pulled back. Repeatedly, Errion took the center fen in hand, fashioned a knot, checked it against her body, and then pulled it away to tie yet another. Of the nine forms, this was the most critical. Once he had the series of knots expertly situated upon the center strand, he slipped the rope between her legs, then pulled it up her back, fastening it to a loop at the back of her collar. He used a knot to hold it in place, then cut the excess line away.

  Farjika emitted a soft little moan as she rolled her body, testing the feel of the first form.

  “Each fen will have strategically placed knots that will press upon the energy points of your body.” Errion readied the two strands for the second form, draping them down her back on either side of the first line.

  “It feels good.” Her voice held a stunned kind of wonder that didn’t surprise him. Many people were shocked when they discovered the inherit eroticism in bondage.

  “The more forms I complete, the better it will feel.” What he didn’t mention was that this particular technique would stimulate her entire body, but she would be unable to find release, not until she was freed of the center line, which was why that particular form was so critical for the overall success of the encounter.

  Farjika lost her fear and now stood relaxed, allowing the knots to press lightly but firmly against her belly button, clit, the opening of her passage, her anus, and the center of her back.

  Pleased, Errion smiled as he drew two strands down the center line behind her. Using the knot at her back, the one he’d purposely left loose, he slipped the two strands through the knot, then around her torso, just under her breasts, with a knot placed in line with her nipple, then back around, tying the ends together. With the second form done, he moved on to the next but not before he shot a quick glance to Lorren.

  Relaxed against the couch, Lorren missed nothing as he watched Errion work. Lorren caught his gaze and saluted him with his drink. Per the principles of Fentaru, Lorren would not say or do anything; he would simply watch Errion display the beauty of Farjika’s body with crimson rope.

  From the front of the taru, Errion pulled two lines over her left breast, capturing her nipple between them. Rolling her nipple caused it to tighten and allowed him to place the strands just behind her erect nipple, pinching it with the silken rope.

  With a little gasp, she thrust her chest forward, allowing him to fasten the rope around the line under her breast. He repeated the steps on her right breast, leaving the ends of the line free for now. With the third and fourth forms complete, he took a step back to admire his handiwork.

  Praise be to Raylor! Just as he suspected, she was perfectly balanced for the art. Even after his encounter with Gabriyel, which he’d hoped would keep his excitement at bay while he worked, his cock pressed against his silk pants. It didn’t help matters that he could smell Farjika’s arousal as she occasionally squirmed against the knot pressed against her clit. And his quick glance to Lorren revealed that his cock was at full attention and barely contained within his dress slacks.

  “I want to see myself.”

  Errion shook his head. “Not until I’m finished.” Capturing the loose lines below each breast, he pulled the four ropes behind her, looped them against each other, and then drew them around her waist, knotting them just above the knot at her belly button. Quickly he fashioned them across her hips. The main purpose of the fifth form was to press the first form more firmly to her body. He knew he’d succeeded when she sighed and rocked her hips just a bit, just enough to feel the knots tickle between her legs.

  Moving behind her, Errion used the line at her waist to anchor the next line, drawing it down the back of her left leg, placing knots at two spots behind her knee, one on her ankle, and one along the arch of her foot. Repeating the motions on her right leg, he stretched and took a
moment to admire her from behind. Lorren could see her only from the side, which built his anticipation for the revelation of her fully bound form.

  Next, he ran a line down her left arm, placing knots at the inner bend of her elbow, several on her wrist and one centered in the palm of her hand. He couldn’t help but admire how the glittering crimson rope complemented her caramel skin. If Errion had his way, she would never wear anything but Fentaru. Eager to finish, he had to forcefully remind himself to slow down. In his haste, he didn’t want to misplace a single knot, as doing so would ruin the entire effect. He finished the other form along her right arm and then readied himself for the finale.

  With a deep breath, he stood and considered how to execute the last form. This was Errion’s favorite part. Never had he done the same thing twice. Each time was about displaying his artistry in the best possible way. He also wanted the maximum pleasure for both the bound person and the watcher.

  Above Farjika’s head, tucked into a flap in the ceiling, hung the final set of fens. These were the only ropes that did not come from the taru around her neck. They were thick black lines used to display her like the art she’d become. When he’d decided to go with something simple that would not frighten her, he stepped behind her and pressed a button below the table that held his knives and scissors. The final four lines silently unfurled. They were anchored to a metal beam that could hold many times the weight of any human. Placing a simple stool behind her, he eased her onto the edge of the seat. The four-legged stool was a little less than the height of her bottom. It would help her balance as he attached the lines and positioned her.

  Tying two of the lines together, he placed a thick piece of animal hide upon the rope to cushion her. Only when the subject wanted pain did Errion dispense with this part, but that was not the case with Farjika. Easing her backward, he placed the cushioned line along her upper back, just above the knot, so that it cradled her. He had her grasp the ropes in her hands to prevent any slippage. Then he looped the other two strands around her knees, again with leather cushions, so that her legs were lifted and parted. He did not remove the stool because that would keep her from spinning and would ensure there would not be too much weight on the tender flesh behind her knees.