Vasil rested his chin on my shoulder. “At dawn.”
“This might be our last night together.”
His arms around me turned rigid, as strong as elvish steel. “Not if I can help it.”
His determination comforted me, but my mother was a formidable opponent. “Tonight is our only guarantee, my lord, so why not make the most of it?”
“Mmmm, I do have some ideas.” His hands slid from my chest to my hips, anchoring me to him in a decidedly amorous way. My body responded immediately.
“I’m interested to know more,” I answered, playing coy.
“Dinner first,” he said in his bossy way and escorted me back to the table. He stood over me and fed me slowly, one morsel at a time, his fingers so sticky with honey that I had to lick each digit individually. I gazed up at him while the submission flowed through my veins like a calming ichor.
“That’s a very good boy, Cedrych. Now, could we possibly forgo our usual nighttime rituals so that you might join me in the dungeon?”
I nodded, lust making my tongue thick and clumsy. I stood as he plucked up his rod, then cuffed one strong hand aroundthe back of my neck and guided me out of the room. Our guards followed us into the flight box as we ascended toward his bedchambers. I was trembling, my wings humming audibly with excitement. Vasil smirked at my situation, which was both humiliating and arousing. After ordering the guards not to disturb us unless absolutely necessary, he closed the door and we descended the stairs into his private dungeon.
In the center of the room Vasil released my neck, turned toward me, and uttered his one-word command. “Undress.”
If only there was some sorcery to disappear my clothing. At least my garments were less complicated than his: boots, a canvas sparring jacket, deerskin trousers and a cotton tunic. I discarded my underclothes as well, placing everything in a neatly folded pile as expected. I stood in the waiting position, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind my back, head slightly lowered. It was not so different from a soldier’s at-ease stance. The posture had a settling effect, especially in moments like these where I had no idea what he’d planned.
After taking a leisurely stroll around my person and inspecting my naked form from head to foot, Vasil approached, licked his thumb and forefinger and pinched one of my nipples until it pebbled. “I like these. These are very nice. Plump and round when soft and so perky and tight when aroused.”
A sudden flush crawled up my neck, surely giving me away if my vibrating wings and stiff prick hadn’t already. I was a glutton for his praise. “Thank you, my lord.”
“They turn a darker shade when stimulated.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve been fantasizing about something for a while now, Cedrych, but you’d have to consider it carefully because it would leave a permanent mark.”
I swallowed, glancing up to meet his burning gaze. “What is it, my lord?”
“I’d like to pierce you. Both your nipples. I’d like my metal inside you, in two very intimate places, brushing against your nerves at all hours of the day. So that every time your nipples peak from the cold or brush against the fabric of your tunic, my metal is there to remind you to whom you belong. That your arousal, however accidental, belongs to me.”
As if I could possibly forget. A wave of pleasure swept through me at the mere idea of it, to be permanently pierced by my lord’s signature metal. “Yes, sir,” I said, practically begging for it.
“You didn’t have to think about that for very long,” he chided.
“I could think about it for days, an entire sun-cycle, and my answer would be the same,” I said with bone-deep certainty.
“Only I’d be able to remove them,” he said, flicking one of my nipples lightly.
“I want that.”
“What if I can’t convince your mother to let you stay?” His face turned dark and troubled.
“Then I’d want it even more.” I didn’t want any other man touching me, ever, but at least I’d have those two momentos. I’d always belong to Lord Vasil, in a way. I welcomed his signature mark on my person, something permanent and memorable. “I wish to devote myself wholly to you, my lord.”
My answer seemed to please him as he toyed with my other nipple until they were both a dark, dusky rose. Tender, aching, I wanted him everywhere. To hurt me just a little, and then make it all feel better.
“Unfurl your wings, boy,” was his next instruction, and I did so immediately, adjusting my posture to balance their weight. His commands centered me. My lord, my Master, was in charge.
“Magnificent,” he said as he circled me again.
“Touch them, Master, please.” I felt no shame in begging. I wanted him to know every part of me, inside and out.
He drew his hand along the outer edge of one wing, sending a delicious shiver through my sensitive receptors. My wings hummed even louder, like a swarm of bees.
