Page 33 of Ruled By Magic

The Lord Commander drew in a breath. He ran his fingers over skin that felt warm and swollen. “You like this.” Delight tinged the words. “Don’t you?”

I didn’t reply. It was too new, too strange, to articulate.Toy.It was accurate, wasn’t it? He’d waited years to have someone captive to his desires, and here I was. His toy, his plaything, his consort.

His.

He brought the brush down again, harder. “Don’t you?” Authority rang in his voice. “Answer me. And that one doesn’t count.”

I gasped as the shock spun through me, scrambling my thoughts. “It’s strange.”

“I’m sure it is.” Gentle, almost kind. “Two more to go, Liv.”

The soft sound of my name on his lips stirred something. I needed to look into his eyes, touch his face. I felt closer to him, bonded through this forbidden pleasure.

“Please, Lord Commander, two more.”

He brought the brush down twice in quick succession. I moaned as the bright pain melded into delicious sensation. I lay panting as he stroked the skin he’d just struck.

He released his magic and my hands fell limp to my sides. My body shivered, brain fuzzy. He turned me over, laid me gently on my back, and I opened my eyes to see his face. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and he studied me like I was a rare specimen. Something strange and beautiful.

“You did so well.” His fingers traced the curve of my waist, and I fought a sudden urge to touch him. To run my hand over those perfect cheekbones. The pain from the spanking faded and the floaty sensation wavered along with it, reality reasserting itself. He’d punished me, and I’d enjoyed it, just as he’d made me want his touch. Was there any part of myself I could keep protected?

He shifted on top of me, weight pressing me down into the bed. My body reacted with a shock of pure, animal lust, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from him as he sat back and pulled his shirt over his head. I skimmed the clean, firm lines of his body, lean muscle and tanned skin.

“It’s time.” He traced a line down the center of my throat with his finger. “I won’t be rough. You’ll enjoy it.”

Absolute confidence. My mouth fell open at the statement, and a slight flicker of amusement passed over his features. “Don’t look so outraged. You can’t hide from me.” He edged back, spread my thighs, and slid two fingers inside me. I was so slick with desire, they moved in and out smoothly. A whimper formed in my throat. “I can feel how ready you are.”

I couldn’t deny it. His fingers weren’t enough. I needed more, craved it, even though by all logical measures I shouldn’t.

He stood, shed his trousers, and climbed on top of me, skin to naked skin. His body was furnace hot and, almost against my will, I brought my hands around his back to explore his smooth muscles.

The hard head of his cock pressed against my entrance, and I tensed as he paused there. I felt the strain in him, as if holding back was an effort. He watched my face, seemed to catalog the moment as he pushed in, sheathing himself in me for the first time. A low sound escaped me as my body stretched. Lingering soreness in my bruised ass melded with the ache as he filled me, and I drew in a shuddering breath.

He stilled, and his eyelids fluttered closed. “It’s like you were made for me.”

Pinned to the bed, his weight on me, inside me, I relaxed. I couldn’t fight the need anymore. He’d made me want this, want him. I spread my knees to the side and tilted my hips. He opened his eyes—a feral look of triumph on his face—pulled out, and thrust in again further. A gasp tore from my throat as he struck a spot that did something new. A deeper, stronger pleasure point that only he could reach. It scattered the last of my wariness to the wind. I dug my fingers into his back, a silent plea to move.

He did. Slowly at first, he picked up speed and hit the rhythm I needed. I moaned underneath him as every thrust drove me closer to release. He pounded pleasure into me, and soon I yelped over and over, a needy animal noise. It didn’t sound like it came from me.

He kissed me, rough and wild, his mouth hot on mine as my climax broke, a wave of bliss sweeping me away. My muscles clenched around him and he sped up, hand tangled in my hair. He groaned and his body stiffened in one final deep thrust. I felt his release shoot inside me and gasped at the intimacy of it. Another mark of ownership.

We lay in a sweaty tangle, his head on my shoulder. Raising to his elbows, he slid off to the side and pulled me into an embrace. Wetness spilled down my thigh and onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to care.

I relaxed into him, hand resting on his warm chest. Lazy and satisfied as a cat stretching in the sun. What a strange world, where pain morphed into pleasure. Captivity and hopelessness into something else.

I pushed myself up to see him. His eyes met mine, and his pleased expression mirrored my own. I lay my head back down and basked in the sleepy afterglow, allowing no thoughts to intrude. What good would it do? I was here. Why fight the parts of this that I could enjoy?

He ran one hand through my long hair. “Rest, Liv. You’ve earned it. You’re all mine now.”

The words rolled into the cloudy haze surrounding me, and I curled myself tighter into him.

Days turned into weeks. Time passed in a slow stream, with little to differentiate one day from the next. Daytimes I read, walked in the gardens, exercised, or ate meals with Helen. A few other palace workers struck up conversations, but most kept their distance.

I’d never been so idle, and I vacillated between contentment, boredom, and guilt. I led the life of a pampered princess. A trophy wife. The circulars arrived daily, but my own face ceased to shock me. Interest in me waned, and I was relegated to the fashion pages, each new outfit picked apart in gleeful horror.

Each evening, I returned to the Lord Commander’s apartment by four p.m. and awaited his return. He often left instructions on how he wished to find me—special lingerie, a particular position—and compliance earned me orgasms. A simple trade. I played my part and tried not to think about it too hard. Tried not to delve into why acting as his pleasure toy brought me such satisfaction.

The frequency of our social engagements dwindled to two or three a week. Other nights we ate together in the apartment, talked, or watched vids. Life developed a strangely comforting domestic rhythm.

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