Page 74 of The Kingdom of Flames

“Open your mouth,” Tristien held the end of the flog in front of her face. She wanted to protest, not because she didn’t want it, but she wanted more. She wanted him.

It continued until the handle of the flog was coated with her saliva. He then slid the handle lower and lower into her quim. He latched the end of the leash onto a rung on the bed, pulling her back towards him.

It felt so good with him wrapped around her. She strained against the collar, and he slid the handle inside slowly, drawing in and out. Her quim responded, she had been drenched for hours. She seemed to be wet always now. It didn’t even take seeing him, just cleaning his manor, administering her duties. This was her reward. It was more than she deserved.

Tristien slid the flog handle into her cunt, forcing her to spread her legs. She stared down at his beautiful hands twirling around her clit, slowly building and striding into her over and over.

He knew her. What she needed. His hand danced from her clit to her nipples, to holding her side, sliding down her abdomen. Several times, he withdrew the flog when her lust rose, denying her release, stuffing the rod into her mouth to taste her own shame.

Again.

And again.

Until she was begging to come. Begging and moaning.

“Please, Tristien, please…” she was squealing now. Her body was tender. Her muscles were sore from a life of labor. How long had she been here? It did not matter. Time didn’t move here when she was with him. When she worked in the manor or his fields.

“Well done,” Tristien whispered in her ear, tongue darting out. He sucked on her neck, holding her left breast tenderly as he picked up the pace, fucking her with the handle of the whip.

Celestine’s climax approached, something so long denied, like chasing a beautiful mare in the fields somewhere. The heat of his thighs, the muscles on his body, and the strain of the leash was all perfect.

“That’s it…” Tristien fucked her deeper and deeper, twisting and turning the ridges of the whip’s handle inside her. Celestine’s mouth opened. She was close… so close… she had been denied for so long.

“I’ll be good,” she pouted. “I’ll be so fucking good, for you.”

Her heart thundered. Her nipples grew harder and harder. His left hand raced down to her sopping clit, grinding it faster and faster as he penetrated her with the whip. He knew her cadence. She was his. Nothing and no one else’s, for this reason. He read her like a book. Not one he found, but one he ripped the pages from and rewrote to his own liking.

“Yes,” Celestine huffed.

In and out, in and out. Her back arched, the collar choking off her airway. He worked her quim faster and faster, outside and in, until she—

“Tristiennnn…” Celestine came harder and wetter than she ever had. Something broke in her, a final release as her orgasm came down like the hammer of a farmer upon a sow for slaughter. A velvet blanket of sensation wrapped around her, and she knew in her delirium it was him, his body, his will. She spurted liquid across the rapid movement of the flog handle.

She collapsed into his warm embrace from behind. He withdrew the flog and his hand, wrapping both around her. The leash slackened until he slid it free. Celestine laid back into his nude form, so tall and large, his perfect body wrapping around her from behind, until they turned to the side, and he held her like a blanket of silk. He was wealth and sunshine.

He grew her, praised her. Tristien was the sun that she grew under. His rays burned, but she expanded and rose under his attention.

All for him to cut down with his scythe.

Chapter 14

A Promise

The month passed slowly but surely, time moving strangely in the realms of these Lords of Season. As time went on, she became a citizen of the Yellow Banner. There was no ceremony, nothing but the notice from her friend Lapis.

It was a special day in the month when those who worked the fields now sat upon the dais, watching their husbands toil among the wheat. Celestine sat with ladies and noblewomen of the land, seeing all the men move and fill carts, their old and young bodies straining with labor.

Tristien worked as well, in long linens without finery. Attendants served lunch.

Aidric, Captain of the Calendar Court, stood not far from them. His mirrored mask set upon Celestine.

“Power.” Lady Rosenthal raised a glass. “That’s what it is.”

Celestine turned from the Captain of the Guard. He was never not far. In her time here, even under Tristien’s attention, he always approached her each day. He rarely spoke the words, but all she needed to do was will it, and she would be spirited away.

The vessel has been molded, much like your mirrored mask Aidric. I too, reflect that which is around me.

Even Tristien did not stop her from speaking to Aidric. Perhaps it was his respect for the law. Perhaps it was proof deep down that she wanted to be here. It did not matter.

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