Page 32 of What Fury Brings
“You’re not leaving me here like this?”
“Like what?” she asked, stopping by the door. “Aroused? Strapped to the bed? Yes, I am. You don’t get to come unless it is by my hands, Andrastus. You will not touch yourself, unless it is by my instruction. Only when you’re a good boy will you get what you yearn for. Sleep well.”
And she left him just as he was. Hard and unsatiated.
Back in her own room, Olerra stared at the phallus. It was large. Not the largest in the kit, but certainly not the smallest. She was going to have to fit this inside her if she wanted to fully claim her man.
And, oh, how she wanted that. When she’d first captured him, she’d thought the breadth of his body too big, the planes of him too hard. But seeing him naked and aroused had changed something. She saw how things could be between them in the bedroom. And she wanted that future.
Someday she wanted to procreate with him, too. Their babies would be so strong and solid. Absolutely beautiful.
She just had to get him to consent to letting her bed him. It was only a matter of time. She would have him eating out of the palm of her hand soon enough.
Olerra used her nondominant hand to reach for her opening, measuring the distance with her fingers before comparing it to the phallus before her.
It definitely wasn’t going to fit yet.
Still, she was determined to try. She lay on her back atop her bed. She was still wet from the previous orgasm, so that would help. It also helped knowing that Andrastus was just one door away, aroused and likely still thinking about her.
She put the head to her opening and had to bite her lip as she applied pressure.
Fuck, it hurt, and if she pushed any harder, she would likely tear her skin. She drew the phallus away. Then massaged her aching flesh.
Olerra pitied the women born in Brutus. The way her teachers taught it, men shoved their members into unready openings on women’s First Nights. They didn’t wait for them to be wet. Nor did they take the time to help them stretch over weeks to prepare. Women’s openings came in all different sizes, and it was foolish of men to think that just because something felt good to them that it felt good to the woman. How many women bled for men who didn’t do them the courtesy of adhering to women’s pain over their own pleasure? It made her angry. It reminded her that the Brutes didn’t deserve courtesy or kindness. She hoped Andrastus would be different.
It was also unfair. Men got to have sex all the livelong day without experiencing any pain, but women had to first endure this.
Olerra returned to the box, picked a much smaller phallus, and tried again. This one stretched her as she applied pressure, and it hurt, but it wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t stand it. She did as her tutors suggested,counting to ten and then pulling the phallus out to relax her flesh for another ten. Then applying the phallus once more.
She kept at this for perhaps five minutes. Then she washed both phalluses before returning them to her kit. She used the chamber pot despite not feeling as though she had to urinate—she was taught to always relieve herself after a phallus or cock was inside her to stave off unwanted infections.
The eunuchs had drawn her a bath with boiling water while she was in Andrastus’s room, and the water was now cooled down enough to soak. She lowered herself and felt her body relax. She needed it. She still had a lot of work ahead of her.
Olerra had to woo her soon-to-be husband. But first, she had to teach him some manners. He hadn’t responded well to her teachings on the road, so now they were going to try things the hard way.
Olerra woke as the sun did. Since she wasn’t going to be training with her soldiers today, she opted for a cream-colored tunic that hung to mid-thigh and a pair of tight shorts underneath in the same color, to avoid the chafing from her thighs rubbing together. A belt cinched around her waist, from which her weapons hung. She was one of the few in the country who had mastered the complicated whipblade, which had a sharp blade attached to the end of a long rope. She also wore a sword on her other side for close-quarters combat. She didn’t bother with her helmet. Only when she took a shift on guard duty or went into battle did she wear one. Even when she knew her cousin was resorting to sending assassins after her.
She hadn’t any proof that the past two attempts on her life were ordered by her cousin, so there was no point in bringing it up with heraunt. And given the fact that Olerra was the best fighter in her kingdom, she wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.
She’d tell Andrastus about it if it ever became necessary. He was already overburdened with the newness of this place. She didn’t think his mind could withstand much more stress.
Servants prepared Andrastus for her. He was wearing his new palace clothes, which she could tell he hated the moment she laid eyes on him.
The shirt was white and lightweight with a long sleeve on the right and no sleeve on the left, as all his clothing was designed to show his left bicep. The top of the exposed shoulder was a little red from riding shirtless through the city yesterday. The eunuchs would have already treated it, though. The neckline of Andrastus’s shirt went clear down to his navel, showing off hints of his pectorals and the ripples of muscle going down his abdomen. The redness from the waxing was gone, but she assumed the skin would still be tender. She had a hard time feeling any sympathy for him, considering the pain she’d had to endure last night.
Besides, too much hair on a man was unhygienic.
The leather shorts were tight from the ass to mid-thigh. They accentuated the curves of his muscles and the bulge in the front. The sandals went clear up to his knees, framing his strong calves.
He looked Amarran now, and she loved that. There was only one thing missing.
Olerra retrieved a box from her bedside table. Inside rested the armband she’d had made for him. It was forged of pure silver, the ends twisting into a swirling design at the top and bottom. A single teardrop onyx hung down in the center.
His eyes locked with hers as she approached. For some reason, he didn’t resist as she slipped the armband onto his left hand, sliding it upward until it fit snug just above his bicep.
She loved the way it looked on him, almost as much as the way it marked him as hers.
“It looks perfect on you,” she said.
