Page 92 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

As they talk about me, my faeries produce a bottle of shimmering oil. They pour it on their hands and massage it into my skin, one at each arm and one at each leg. The green faeries have taken my arms; they work their fingers almost painfully into my muscles, leaving relief in their wake. But when they reach my breasts, they retreat on a long, slow path back to my wrists.

Cassan is similarly strapped down. “Wait,” he says, once the final restraint is placed. “This is wrong. Let me correct it.”

I gasp as my table tilts up, but the pink and purple faeries simply drop to their knees to continue massaging my legs. Cassan and I are both upright now, facing each other.

“This way, I can better see you,” he says, his eyes trained on my breasts.

The faeries tending to him apply oil, as well, rubbing his arms and feet while he groans in rapture. I am similarly transported as the knots in my muscles release under skilled hands.

But as time passes, I become more and more aware of how close fingers come to touching places on my body that are beginning to wake up. Once, twice, the pink and purple faeries’ hands accidentally brush the hoop protruding between my labia, but they never touch me there. They avoid the entire area, their fingertips dipping into the crease between my thighs and my mound, but never straying further. My breasts ache for the green faeries to return their mouths to my nipples, but they focus on my shoulders and chest, never touching my breasts directly.

Cassan still has his breeches on, but a faery with skin the velvet dark of a night sky and luminous, starry eyes works the laces and frees him. His cock looks already painfully hard, the tip swollen and nearly purple.

He catches me staring and grins. “They may be touching me, Cenere, but this is all for you.”

“I can’t wait,” I breathe, and it surprises me to realize that I’m not acting. When I first arrived at court, it seemed not even an hour could pass without sex, but Cassan has not called upon me even to take him into my mouth. Days have passed without the touch of another’s hand, and I feel as though I’m starving.

“I haven’t fucked anyone else,” he says, grimacing as the faery traces an arc of oil on his stomach, avoiding his straining cock.

“I haven’t even made myself come. Not since Luthian told me he was surrendering.”

“That’s quite a long time,” I say, gasping a little as my piercing is nudged again.

One of the fairies cups his balls through the breeches. “You’re full to bursting, Your Majesty. Imagine releasing all of that into her tight, sweet pussy.”

He hisses as she walks her fingers alongside his shaft.

“Think of it,” one of the green faeries murmurs in my ear. “So much thick, hot cum filling you.”

“You’re so lucky, Your Majesty,” the pink one says, gliding her oiled hand down my inner thigh.

I lock eyes with Cassan and smirk. “If he lasts a minute, I’ll let him sentence me to another full day of this torture.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says with a breathless laugh.

The purple faery collects four of the paintbrushes and distributes them to her partners. The bristles are long and thin, pointed in a tip no wider than a single hair. They barely touch me with them as they skim the outlines of my fingers and each toe. It’s as if they’re painting my portrait on me with teasing, tickling touches. They dip the brushes in the oil, spread it over my skin with delicate strokes that make me squirm.

“Look how she enjoys their attention,” the dark faerie tells Cassan. “I think I would like that type of attention paid to me.”

His fourth faery, a lovely sea foam thing with frothy white curls kneels before the dark one. “I’ll pay attention to you, if they pay attention to us.”

My core gushes as I imagine exactly what the faery’s tongue feels like slicking up between her partner’s labia. The dark faery cups her own breast and toys with the nipple, giving a long moan. “That feels so good.”

My clit aches for contact, but my faeries touch me everywhere but where I need it, bathing every inch of me in the oil, one tiny paintbrush stroke at a time.

“Oh, fuck,” Cassan groans, and I note a shining, clear drop drooling from the head of his cock.

“What’s the matter, Your Majesty?” A golden faery taunts him. “You don’t like watching her get her pussy eaten?”

“I fucking love it,” he says through his locked jaw.

The green faeries give up their painting and lean in to suck on my neck; it tickles, but since they flank me, I can’t avoid their mouths. And still, the other two work their brushes over me. I feel my body striving for release without contact. My legs shake. I’m about to warn them that my climax is inevitable, but they seem to sense it and stop on their own.

All of the faeries stop touching us, leaving us to hang helpless in our straps as we watch the two lovers between us. The dark faerie hooks her knee over the sea-colored faerie’s shoulder, opening herself for better access. They moan and gasp in their performance, the blue-black faery urging, “Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” while her hips rock frantically against her lover’s face.

“Oh fuck, do not stop,” Cassan orders, his head lolling against the table. “By order of your king, do not fucking stop.”

Precum flows from his cock now, and the golden faery falls to her knees and leans far back, mouth open wide but never touching him. She runs her tongue through the stream and reaches between her legs to stroke herself.

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