It took him a moment to realize Ileana had spoken. She stood, then gestured. “Clear the hall.” There was grumbling, but everyone save Keffer obeyed the command.
Thomas remained where he was. At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted his legs to hold him anyway. He focused on controlling his breathing. Keffer’s hand still rested on the small of his back. “Ileana?” Keffer shifted his position just slightly. “Earlier you seemed rather enthusiastic about this performance.”
He didn’t dare raise his head to look up as she walked over to them. At least the others were gone. Whatever Ileana intended now, he would not have to endure their eyes while it happened. She stood there, silently. Then her hand touched his hair. Her fingers seemed almost tender as they caressed him. “Thomas, look at me.”
Only then did he lift his head, and stare up at her. She was looking down at him, her face contemplative. “You told the truth.”
“Yes.” His voice was slightly hoarse.
Slowly, she sank to her knees, then sat so her face was level with his. Her fingers ran through his hair again. “I want to watch Keffer fuck you, husband.”
“I understand.” He nodded.
“Not to punish you.” She ran a hand down his cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear. “But because it will give me pleasure to watch you submit to him. And to know you did it for me.” Her lips touched his, gentle and tender. “Do you remember when I asked you to win the Wintersmoot tournament for me, Thomas?”
“You sent me a crown of flowers.” Dried white blossoms, carefully woven with laurels. His brothers had laughed, ridiculing the notion.
“Did you wear it?” She touched his shoulder. “When you won?”
“Yes.” A small trace of a smile came to his face at the memory.
She nodded. “Keffer is going to pleasure you now.”
“Am I?” Keffer patted his back. “Thomas, Ileana wants me to fuck you for her pleasure. May I?”
“Yes.” He’d said the word before he could even contemplate what would have happened if he’d said no. Something told him if he’d refused, Keffer would have as well. But without the other eyes watching, if it was only for Ileana, then he could endure what was to come. He felt the satyr’s hand touch him again, this time slick and a little cold. He winced when a finger probed inside him, and saw Ileana smile at him in response. Her old smile, the one she’d given him in the garden. And so he smiled back.
She was surprised to feel a rush of pleasure at his agreement, a rush heightened by the small smile he gave her. Ileana caught his chin, turning his face up to look at her, and watched his eyes. He had such beautiful eyes. She’d fallen in love with those eyes once. He cried out in pain when Keffer entered him roughly, his body jerking at the motion. But he made no attempt to look away. His eyes stayed on hers. They filled with pain, and when a tear escaped she kissed it away, tasting it with her tongue before returning to watching those beautiful eyes.
He didn’t beg. Didn’t ask for it to stop, despite the fact that Keffer was not using his magic. The satyr was doing nothing to make it a more pleasurable experience for Thomas. She realized she was panting just a little as she watched him submit. To endure it for no reason other than she wanted him to. When he cried out in pain again she leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back, his mouth hungry on hers, and she tightened her fingers in his hair to hold him in place.
Ileana felt the moment it changed. When it stopped being something he was merely enduring, and became something her obvious pleasure was making him enjoy. She moaned at the thought, and heard him give an answering moan as Keffer slammed into him again. She ran a hand down his taut belly to caress his cock. It was hard, and began leaking precum within a few moments of her caressing him. Keffer hurt him, and she pleasured him, and between them they took him higher.
“Cum for me, my husband.”
His beautiful eyes were on hers, and she fell in love with them all over again when he obeyed her hotly whispered command.
The next morning felt strange, as if reality had been stretched too far and now wouldn’t go back into place properly. Thomas sat on a moss covered rock in the garden, looking up the sky through the branches. Footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Keffer. He looked away, not quite able to look into the satyr’s eyes. “She’s asleep.”
“I’m aware.” Keffer sat down next to him. “I hurt you quite badly yesterday.”
“Yeah.” Thomas swallowed. He let out a small laugh. “Funny, but, that was…” He exhaled. “That was easier than the first time, when you…” He shrugged. Then he looked at the satyr beside him, and his eyes widened. “You had no intention of making me enjoy it.”
“The pain I knew you could endure.” Keffer shrugged. “The humiliation of…” Keffer gently squeezed his shoulder. “I like you, human. The thought of you tamed is…” Keffer waggled his eyebrows. “Enticing. But I find no pleasure in the thought of you destroyed.”
“I hate the fact I’m starting to like you.” Thomas just shook his head.
“You know, you’re not the first human to tell me that.” Keffer chuckled.
“You didn’t make me enjoy it but…” He glanced into the room where Ileana slept. “She did.”
“You do not belong to me. You do belong to her. And that was true long before she put that collar around your neck.” Keffer shrugged. “You took no pleasure in what was being done to you. You took pleasure in the fact that your mistress was enjoying it, and she pleasured you in return. These are not the same things, Thomas.” He patted Thomas’s back. “You are not a slave. You are her slave.”
“And that makes it better?” He turned toward Keffer.
“If I ordered you to your knees right now, to service me?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I would tell you go suck yourself.”
“I’m not actually flexible to do that.” Keffer smirked at him. “But if she wished to watch you perform this service?”
“I…” He looked away. “Fuck.”
Thomas took a deep breath before looking back at the satyr. “What?”
“It occurs to me that she going to ask you to do exactly that at some point.” The satyr shrugged. “Perhaps I should demonstrate to you how to do it properly?”
“You…” He swallowed when he realized what the satyr was insinuating. “That uh…”
“It is nice to see I can still make you blush, human.” Keffer laughed. He shook his head. “It would bring me no hardship to pleasure you, human. You only need ever ask.”
“I hate you.”
Ileana woke and stretched languidly. Her gaze went to the pallet on the floor where she normally kept Thomas, and she started when she realized it was empty. She’d forgotten to secure him after bringing him back the previous evening. He’d been exhausted, and had nearly collapsed into the pallet when she’d made him crawl to it. The sight had been so satisfying she’d forgotten to secure the shackle.
She rose quickly, drawing her robe around herself, and came to a halt just inside the door. Thomas and Keffer were in the garden, talking to each other. She combed her fingers through her hair, and walked toward them. Keffer gave her a warm smile. Thomas turned bright red and shifted awkwardly. “Precious heart, we were just talking about you.” Somehow Thomas managed to turn even redder.
“I seem to have slept past breakfast.” She chuckled.
“It was a rather eventful evening, but…” Keffer shrugged. “I believe you promised that if I did what you asked, I would decide today’s activities.”
Thomas gave Keffer a startled look. Ileana slowly nodded. “That was the bargain you struck, yes.”
“Excellent.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “Then after breakfast, I am going to tie Thomas here to the bed, and you are going to have your way with him.”
“Wait…” Thomas blinked. “What?”
“Keffer…” She narrowed her eyes. Had he known she’d been dreaming of exactly that?
“Ileana…” His smile was pure evil. Of course he’d known. He was Keffer.
He was tied again, intricate knots securing his wrists to the corners of the bed. Keffer had taken his time with the rope, and the knots had a strangely pleasing aesthetic. The satyr had left when he’d finished with the bonds.
Leaving him alone with Ileana. She was dressed in a white silk robe, the sheer material enhancing rather than obscuring what lay beneath. Her fingers trailed up his inner thigh. “I like you this way, at my mercy.”
“I have always been at your mercy, Ileana.” He drank in the sight of her.
“I’m going to hurt you.” She shifted to straddle him, then reached up to touch his left nipple. She flicked the flesh still sensitive from wearing bells, and he winced. She smiled. “Just like that. And you are going to like it.”
The strange part was that she was right. He did like it. “Do you want me to beg?” He tilted his head at her.
“Of course I do.” She leaned in, her smile wicked as she leaned down and caught the nipple in her teeth, nipping just lightly before looking up at him again. “I want you to squirm, and plead, and beg.” Then she moved up to kiss his lips, her mouth hungry. “For more.”
“I am your slave, wife.” The satyr had been annoyingly right. He wasn’t a slave. He was her slave. And he always had been, since the first time he’d seen her dancing around the maypole.
“I know, husband.”