Chapter 12

Aketa lagged behind the others, her emotions in chaos.

She’d only just fallen asleep after sneaking back into the castle, when the bell was rung for breakfast. Exhausted, she’d slumped in front of her breakfast, so consumed by her thoughts that she didn't take more than two bites of the delicious food.

After washing and dressing for the day, Aketa lay back down on the bed, letting her thoughts consume her. On one hand she was angry, both at herself and Moregon. At herself for assuming things, and with Moregon for his secrecy. She’d contemplated quitting, simply getting up and walking out of the castle. But she was not angry enough for that.

Stuck between her unwillingness to quit and her anger and hurt, Aketa took no action before the Queen came for them.

“Good morning, ladies. I hope you are prepared for what you will face today. Did you discuss what you saw yesterday?”

“No, your Majesty,” they murmured.

“Good. Are you prepared to leave?”

“We are,” Sornes said, “though I fear Aketa has neglected to change her gown, again.” The other three giggled.

Aketa, standing in the back, only half listening, started on hearing her name. She looked up, her movement quick enough that her scarf almost fell back. Aketa caught it, tugging it back into place, hoping it hid her flush of shame. All of the other girls had changes of garment, as their families had returned to the castle with additional clothes.

Even if Aketa had sent word to her family that she needed additional garments they could not have brought any. This was the only dress she had.

“I see,” Cryessa said, but she was looking at Sornes, not Aketa. “We will not worry about that for today. Come with me, please.”

They made their way down the hall, and Aketa lagged to the back. As if her internal struggles were not enough, now she was aware of how very poor she seemed in comparison to the others. Their bright gowns, glossy hair, and delicate manners were as far from Aketa’s own lumbering as the moon was from the sun. Nothing would ever come of this.

It was no wonder Moregon had responded as he had last night. Whatever intimacy they found together in the dark of night was little to compare to being able to display one of these dazzling beauties as a wife. What use was a farm girl in comparison to that?

They reached their destination, the same chamber as yesterday, and filed in. All save Aketa who stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

The resolve to suffer anything, defeat any odds, in order to win him, had fled in the face of what had happened between them last night. She was back to feeling like a foolish girl who was reaching too high.

Queen Cryessa appeared before her.

“Aketa, do you wish to withdraw?” she asked in low tones.

Slowly, Aketa shook her head.

“I will see that you have new garments, so do not worry over what Sornes said.”

Aketa nodded.

The Queen cocked her head to the side. “That is not all that troubles you, is it?” She closed her eyes, and Aketa felt a tingling warmth press against her face. The Queen opened her eyes. “Know this. Moregon will not be an easy man to love. The choice to be what he needs lies in you. He has fallen so far into the darkness that he cannot find a way out on his own. He needs a guide to lead him back into the sunlight.”

With those cryptic words, the Queen stepped into the chamber.

Aketa hurried to follow, mind whirling.

Moregon needed her.

Her resolve firmly in place, Aketa turned her attention the man who stood before them.

Lord Anleeh looked every inch the powerful noble. His tunic and pants were of the finest leather and velvet, embossed with rich patterns. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, taking their measure in a single glance.

He waited until they were all well settled, until the silence had grown to suspense.

“Welcome, ladies. I trust that you enjoyed what you saw yesterday. Perhaps you found the use of the crop frightening, perhaps, after a time, that fear became arousal.”

They all shifted slightly in their seats, and Anleeh smiled.

“What you will see today is similar in nature, but at the same time very unnatural. It is the way of our world that the man protects the woman, that he pursue her, and this natural order can lead to the type of play you saw last night: that of a man dominating a woman.

“What you will see today is the reverse of that, and something you might not find attractive. When a woman dominates a man, it is savage. A man must check his strength when he dominates a woman, lest he hurt her. He protects her even as he applies his hand to the flesh of her ass.

“A woman must show no mercy. If she is to dominate a being who is stronger, she must be clever, ruthless, and demanding. And if she is to bring pleasure to her man with these things, she herself must enjoy them also.”

Lord Anleeh stepped to the side, and a robed couple took his place. As yesterday, they were masked and hooded, though this pair wore masks much more concealing than those of yesterday.

The woman again wore a bird mask, though this was one of a hawk, which covered the whole of her face, save her chin and lips, and even concealed her hair. Her partner wore a similar mask with the features of a hunting cat; his hair, pulled into a tail at the back of his neck, was left exposed.

They both wore cloaks of midnight blue.

The woman turned to the man, who was taller, broader, stronger, than she. She ripped the cloak from his shoulders, exposing his nakedness.

The suddenness of the act caused Aketa to gasp. She looked away, embarrassed to see the man thus, but looked back almost immediately, because he was by far the most compelling naked man she’d ever seen.

He reached for the woman’s cloak, but she slapped his hands away. He grabbed her by the shoulders, but she grabbed his soft cock, squeezing it in her fist, until he grunted in pain and released her. With her free hand the hawk grabbed the man’s hair, using it as a handhold to force him to his knees.

She stepped away, and he started to rise, but she reached down, this time grabbing his balls. He yelled in pain as she squeezed his sac. She pulled down until he was not just kneeling, but sitting back so his ass rested on his heels. The hawk touched the inside of his knees with her bare toes, and he spread them for her. His cock and sac were wholly exposed this way.

The hawk stepped back, leaving him alone and on display before them. Aketa looked at his masked face, searching for some sign of his emotions. The grimace of pain slipped from his lips after a time, and the man appeared to be entirely at peace.

There was a rattle of chain and the woman stepped up behind him. She held up a pair of manacles, letting them see the short length of chain between the cuffs.

The hawk stroked the hunting cat’s arm, kneading his muscles as she worked her fingers down to his wrists. She snapped the first manacle in place, and then drew up sharply. The man grunted as his arm was pulled up and back. He leaned forward slightly. The woman grabbed his free wrist, drew it back with sharp motions, and locked it in place.

She released him and the man straightened. His breathing was low and deep, his lips parted, and his cock rock hard.

Aketa’s dawning horror at what she saw began to fade. Yesterday there had never been any doubt about the woman’s desire, but watching the man be treated thus, was something to be feared. But he enjoyed it. She did not yet fully understand the why or how of his enjoyment, because it seemed foreign that a man would enjoy losing control in this way, but Aketa vowed to discover these things, to understand them so she could master whatever skill this display was meant to teach them.

The woman was petting the man, her man. She stroked his shoulder, the muscles of his chest, his belly. Kneeling beside him she stroked the inside of his thighs, which caused his cock to bob in the air, but she did not touch it.

Turning her attention to his face, she stroked his lips. When the man lapped at her hand with his tongue, she pressed two, then three fingers into his mouth. She forced his head back, her fingers pushing deeper, until he made a gagging sound. The woman pulled her fingers free, wiped her hand on her cloak, and then began again, stroking his face. This time he did not lick her hand until she bid him by teasing his mouth open with her thumb and playing with his tongue.

The woman stood then and took a length of cloth, tying it over the eyeholes in the mask. Once he was blinded, she threw off her cloak. Beneath it, she wore a simple sheath that stopped at the top of her thighs. A thick belt sat heavy on her hips, weighted down by the implements that hung from it. Aketa could identify a pair of black leather gloves, a coil of thin rope, and a crop like the one she saw yesterday. The rest of the items were a mystery.

The woman took the crop, her movements silent, and struck the man on the chest. He jumped, hissing out a breath, and a spot of red blossomed near his nipple. The woman raised the crop once more, this time landing the blow squarely on his nipple, which made him yell out.

She continued his punishment, striking his chest again and again, until his nipples were flame-red and erect.

She knelt and blew across one nipple, then licked it.

The effect upon the man was profound. He jerked his hips into the air, shouting with need. His hips pumped, and Aketa realized he was near orgasm.

“You will not come,” the woman commanded, bringing the crop up between his legs, tapping his balls sharply.

The man sank back, curling in on himself, his chest working like bellows. She went to him, holding him close, offering him comfort, protection. He took comfort in this touch, the touch of his tormentor.

She bid him rise to his feet, his cock bobbing in the air as he did so. She turned him, so they could see his well muscled back and ass, and his hands, bound together behind him. She grabbed the chain between the manacles and lifted, pulling his hands up to the small of his back, which left his ass exposed.

After yesterday’s display Aketa was not surprised when the woman brought her hand down on his ass in a firm spank. What did surprise her was the savagery with which she did it. The woman’s hand came down again and again, in a punishing rhythm. She paused and pulled on one of the leather gloves that hung from her belt, and started up again, spanking him until the man was jerking and jumping with each swat. Her fingerprints glowed white against his reddened flesh after each hit. When she stopped they were both panting.

The woman motioned with her hand, and Lord Anleeh, his face somber, carried over the same bench that had been used yesterday. He positioned it before the man and, as soon as it was in place, the woman put her hands on her captive's back and shoved. He fell awkwardly, landing with an ‘oomph’.

The woman kicked his legs apart, and reached between them. Grabbing his cock she pulled it so it rested against the bench, pointing down, rather then being sandwiched between his belly and the bench.

She toyed with his cock a bit, raking it with her fingers, pulling and pinching the tip.

Aketa was so wet she feared there was little hope of escaping without a stain on the back of her dress.

After toying with his cock she moved to his head. Pulling him up by his hair, the woman pressed his face against the apex of her own thighs. She lifted the skirt of her short tunic, and draped it over his head. The woman’s smile, and the wet noises coming from beneath the fabric, left little doubt that the man was licking and pleasuring the woman’s sex.

Aketa thought that if she were in command of such a specimen she would have done this bit much earlier.

As one hand fisted in his hair, holding his face against her sex, the woman lifted the crop with the other. She began to beat him again, his back, ass, and arms all receiving blows, even as he continued to pleasure her.

Confusing though she found this, Aketa could not help but be further aroused by it, and she could envision herself doing it, even if she could not understand why she would want to.

The woman’s hips were soon rocking against his face, and the wet, labored, sound of the man’s breathing was loud in the air.

When she came, moaning and gasping in pleasure, the woman released him. The man’s head fell, his upper body dropping down over the bench.

But the woman was not done with him.

Moving back to his ass, she took a moment to pull on the second glove, and then ran her hands over all the flesh she’d punished.

Soon her rubbing was concentrated on his ass. She kneaded the firm, muscled globes, which flexed beneath her fingers, then began pulling the halves of his ass apart, exposing his anus.

Aketa gasped along with the others when, after prying his ass apart, the woman pressed the tip of one finger against, and then into, his ass. The man moaned, and then again when she removed her finger and re-inserted it.

Aketa had never heard of such a thing. Why would the woman do such a thing?

But then she noticed the man’s cock. It twitched and jerked, completely on its own. The man was enjoying this.

The hawk stopped and grabbed a tiny pot on the floor. Dipping her fingers in, the woman held them up to show the girls they were shiny and wet. Moistened now, the woman pushed her finger back into the man’s ass, and then added a second. Aketa tried to imagine what the stretching would feel like, similar to how Moregon had stretched her sex with his two big fingers.

The woman thrust her fingers in and out, fucking him. That was the point, Aketa soon realized. Possessing a woman by penetrating her was the ultimate act of control and dominance for a man. If a woman wanted to do the same, she would have to penetrate him in a similar way.

The woman lifted something from her belt, one of the items Aketa had not been able to identify. It was in the shape of a cone, with a rounded tip, and an indent near the widest part. The woman dipped the tip of the cone into the little jar, and smoothed the wetness along it.

Surely she would not…

The woman spread the man’s ass cheeks with one hand, and positioned the tip of the cone against his puckered hole, applying pressure. It sank into him.

Half way in, he started to thrash about. The woman spanking his ass, five hard swats, and he stopped squirming. She continued to press, now using two hands. The man groaned and grunted, uttering something that might have been “Goddess, please.”

He was beautiful in his suffering.

The cone slipped in up to the divot. His ass muscled closed around it, leaving the wide base protruding. The woman grabbed the base and tugged, showing them how firmly it was lodged.

Her slick fingers stroked his cock, which was swollen and nearly purple. After only two strokes the first stream of seed shot from his cock. She pressed her fingers hard against the base, pinching his cock, and stopped his orgasm.

He cried out, cursing softly, but she gave him no mercy.

Lifting the coil of rope from her belt the woman bound the base of his cock with three loops, then did the same to the top of his sac, pressing his balls down into a shiny pouch beneath the loops of rope.

She tied it off and bid him stand. On shaking legs, his back, ass, and still-bound arms spotted by the kiss of her crop, the man stood. Using the dangling rope as a leash the woman led him around the room.

Aktea thought this must surely be the end.

But there was more pleasure to be wrung from the helpless man. She bid him lie down on his back, his back arched due to his bound hands. She pulled the blindfold from his eyes.

Standing astride his hips, she lifted her tunic so the man could see her sex, and he bucked. Aketa could barely imagine what her power over him must be at this point, that he would react so violently to no more than the sight of her sex.

Slowly she sank down, directly onto his cock, which was swollen with blood above the ropes. They both moaned when she was seated fully atop him.

Stripping off the gloves the woman dug her nails into his chest as she rode him, her hips pumping up and down. It was delectable, if her expression was to be trusted, but Aketa could not help but wonder if she wouldn’t rather that his hands were free to touch and toy with her nipples.

The woman came for the second time, grinding her hips against him. When she lifted herself free, the man’s cock was shiny wet and still rock hard.

With a tug to the rope around his cock, she bid him rise. The man climbed awkwardly to his knees, but he did not rise. Instead he bent and pressed a kiss to the top of each foot, his devotion plain.

She stroked his head, and again, though gently, tugged the rope.

He rose, and she led him out of the room.