Page 6 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

“You’re embarrassed,” Luthian says, never taking his eyes off mine as he traces a line from my collar bones to one tight nipple poking at the silk. My knees wobble at his touch and a breathy cry forces its way up my throat when he pinches that dusky peak, silk and all.

“This is new to me,” I explain softly. “I’ve never had someone pay such lustful attention to me before.”

“You’ll soon abandon your shyness. I hope you’ll enjoy most of our lessons,” he says, stroking delightful sensitivity into my flesh. “Some, you will not.”

His nails bite into the silk, into the skin beneath, and I gasp at the shock of razor-sharp pain before he releases me.

“To survive the Court of Pleasure and Torment, you must learn that the two cannot exist without each other. Without pain, one can never know true ecstasy. And I will give you pain, honey flower.” He falls to his knees and examines my breast, the blossom of blood on the silk. He covers it with his mouth and I’m weak, leaning forward to brace myself with my hands on his shoulders. The tiny crescent wounds throb beneath his tongue, while the surrounding flesh screams out in rapture.

All too quickly, he stops, standing and leaving me to sway on my feet, dangerously unsteady.

“No matter what I ask of you, remember what you stand to lose if you deny me.” Luthian’s tone is utterly cold. “Think of your sad little life as the sad little wife of that disgusting Cadwyn Thrace, and how you will spend every moment of every day wondering how things could have been different if you’d simply fulfilled your vow to me.”

I can’t stop my limbs trembling enough to wipe the tears from my lashes.

“Take off your nightgown.”

My fingers are stiff, but so is my resolve. I would sooner die than accept the life he described. The silk falls around my feet on a whisper.

“How do you feel?” he asks, walking around me to examine me from all sides.

“Exposed.”

“You’ll need to get used to it,” he warns. “There is no room for modesty at your future court, Your Majesty.”

The words run like a shiver up my spine. I can almost feel the weight of the crown upon my head. That imaginary crown is my suit of armor as I stand naked before the most dangerous creature I’ve ever known.

“That’s a lesson we can learn… now.” Luthian snaps his fingers and I’m momentarily blinded by a flash of white. Though I can’t see our surroundings change, I hear them, feel them: the shuffle of bodies, the murmur of excited conversation, the heavy feeling of warm, smoke-hazed air. And when the light clears, I stand on a stage, surrounded by luminescent crystals that offer me no shadow to conceal my nakedness.

There is an audience of faeries, seated in spindly chairs, watching me with bemused interest. They smoke pipes and peer through monocles and opera glasses at my defenseless body.

Luthian leans close to my ear. “Touch yourself for them.”

I lift my hand. I know what he means. I’m not so innocent that I can pretend I’ve never given myself relief on a restless night.

But I’m not quick enough to obey, so he takes my hand and guides it for me, stepping behind me to slide our joined fingers down my stomach, to the apex of my thighs. I’m already hot and slick there, already longing despite everything in me crying out that this is shocking. This is wrong.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so arousing.

He spreads the petals of my sex to expose the tingling stamin inside and runs his fingers along either side of its slippery hood. I moan and lean into his touch.

An appreciative murmur passes through the audience.

He replaces his hand with mine and steps back. “Open your eyes, honey flower. Watch all of them watching you.”

Slowly, I lift my face to the audience. My eyes lock with those of a faery in a gown of glittering chains. She wets her lips and pushes the chains aside to reveal her breast and thumb one rosy nipple. My free hand drifts to my own breast. The faery beside her has his cock out; I’ve only ever seen one in paintings, and I can’t tear my gaze from the sight of it passing through his fist again and again. He’s unaware of my attention because his is focused entirely on my hand working between my legs.

“Do you like that?” Luthian asks, pointing to the faery’s long, stiff member.

“I’m not sure,” I confess.

“No, you’re not educated,” he corrects me. “You’re sure that you want all of that hard cock inside of you. Your cunt is crying at its emptiness right now.”

How did he know? How could he possibly have known that every time I stroked myself beneath the covers, I clenched and ached and longed to be filled?

“Put a finger inside,” he orders, and I comply with a groan of relief.

Someone in the audience groans, as well.

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