My body is young and slender. It’s covered in freckles but some people like that kind of thing, don’t they? My hair is an interesting color, deepest auburn. It looks brown in some lights but it is definitely not. It’s also very curly and I keep it just long enough to cover my ears, which are a little too big.
My eyes are large and brown, and my nose isn’t crooked or anything. I’m not hideous to look at, by any means. But I have no idea what Sothbridge’s type is. He said I was good looking at the ball, but he could have been just being a creep. What if he likes his men huge, hulking and hairy?
I let out a despondent sigh. At least he likes men. That’s a good start. And it’s going to have to do. Mages take vessels not of their sexual preference all the time. People want magic, not desirable bodies. So Sothbridge will desire my magic, if nothing else.
If he ever turns up. Vessels are supposed to retire first, to make the necessary preparations, which I have done. I’ve shoved so much lube up myself, I’m going to squelch when I walk.
I’ve also drunk the traditional tea. The recipe is a secret but my money is on it being a relaxant, aphrodisiac and mild sedative. I feel fine. The only effect I can place is that I’m only slightly nervous instead of outright terrified. Which is a good thing, I guess.
But I swear I left the celebrations an age ago. Surely Sothbridge should have joined me by now?
As if on cue, the door opens behind me and I whirl to face it. A wave of dizziness leaves me blind. Ah, okay, I guess the tea is having more of an effect than I thought. Suddenly Sothbridge is standing before me, the heat of his hands burning into my upper arms as he steadies me. All of a sudden I’m hyper aware of the giant bed a mere few steps away. As well as the rutting stool glowering in the corner.
“What’s wrong with you now?” he sneers.
“Tea!” I splutter.
“Oh,” he says and his gaze leaves my face to roam all over every inch of my body. I shudder.
I step back from him and attempt to regain some of my dignity. He is still staring at me intently.
“It was lovely to actually finish a formal dinner in peace,” he remarks, inexplicably. “I had to leave the last one I attended early. Because you decided to play with the phallus.”
His words bounce around my head without making any sense for a moment. The phallus? Is he talking about the magic dildo? How does he know I’ve played with it? That is mortifying. Slowly the true meaning of his words sink in. The dildo isn’t imbued with magic to give a realistic experience. The magic connects it to his cock. It’s like a voodoo doll. It’s a voodoo cock. Everything that is done to it, he feels.
My hands are covering my mouth and I’m gasping in horror. I’ve been enjoying the magic dildo a lot. An awful lot. I’ve played with it every night since I was given it. It’s been in my mouth and up my ass more times than I can count.
And he has felt it all.
Sothbridge chuckles. A deep, rumbling chuckle full of naughty promise. “I figured you didn’t know.”
“I… I… I’m so sorry!”
He grins. “It was fun.”
I stare at him helplessly. What do I say to that? There are no words in the entire English language that can handle this.
“I thought having a virgin would be boring.”
Indignation coils through me but it is a wispy, lazy thing. I’m too hopeful to be insulted. This is all going far better than I had expected. All it took was my utter mortification and humiliation. Look at me, accidentally seducing someone.
There is a fire in his eyes. He wants me. Hells, he has already felt what it is like to be inside me and he wants more. That is definitely flattering. I swallow dryly, still caught in his gaze. My cock is so hard it hurts but I have no idea if it’s me or the tea. I have a feeling it is an unholy combination of the two.
“See, being married to me will not be all bad,” I slur. Shit, this tea is really doing things to me.
He frowns, and the fire in his eyes fades. Damn it, I said the wrong thing. Too late now. It’s not like I have a time machine. I can’t take my words back.
“Your family is not good enough, your magic is not strong enough, you are not pretty enough, and you fucking ensnared me!”
I feel his words like the punches they are. They knock all the tentative hope out of me. He hates me. He is furious. We are stuck together forever in a loveless, resentful marriage. Maybe it’s the tea, but I can see my long unhappy life spilling out before me. Stretching out forever in a cycle of never ending, misery filled days.
Tears fill my eyes and I can’t stop them. Then a sniff escapes. Followed by a sob. Sothbridge’s eyes widen.
“Oh for gods’ sake, please don’t cry!”
But I can’t stop. It’s like a damn has been unbroken. I’m crying. And not in a cute way. In a twisted-red-face-and-snot way.
I yelp in surprise as Sothbridge pulls me close. His arms wrap around me and my face is smooshed against his perfect pecs.
