Dishonored Part 3

"In days to come, I will let you play the pleasure cuffs against the veltian. I will watch you beg silently for my c.o.c.k-or noisily. Yes. I like it when you beg me to fill you."

He didn't give her time to beg. His fingers left her, and the head of his c.o.c.k breached her, stroking back and forth over her pleasure spot. She trembled, the motion stimulating not only the spot within her but also the cuffs on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Dear G.o.ds! If he touches my hood as well...

He thrust deep inside her, and Veltina bucked up against her bonds, nearly swooning in pleasure. The ruv finger beneath his shaft brushed her hood with every movement, and the one above teased at the ring of her a.n.u.s. The nubs between ma.s.saged the sensitive lips spread around his width.

Jurel pressed his lips to her shoulder, his hands caressing her hips then her waist. "I expected you to come," he mused.

She shook her head, terror making her ill. What would he do if she displeased him? If he found her female responses lacking?

"Soon." He moved in and out of her in long, slow strokes, rolling his hips to maximize the stimulation he provided.

Veltina moved in counterpoint, feeling the bite of the rings at her wrists and ankles acutely but caring little about the bruises they'd leave. In her time with Jurel, she'd come to view the bruises as a badge of honor. They marked her as his as much as the slave skirt and bra.s.s rings did. He'd never offered to heal them, and she would beg him not to if he did offer it.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps, and she knew his prophecy of her imminent climax was sound. His hips moved faster, herding her toward it efficiently. She shattered, begging him to join her. Jurel laughed, and the tremors intensified her body's response, quickening her climax.

"Not for some time," he vowed. "You will be weak as a foal by the time I stimulate your egg. The ring around my c.o.c.k will see to that."

Her question caught in her throat, stolen by wave after wave of bliss. Veltina moaned and begged, rocked and panted through one crest after another. When he joined her at last, she was almost too weak to scream.

Jurel released her from the veltian, leaving the gold rings in the place of the bra.s.s ones he'd removed. She looked at him in a bleary sort of understanding, closing her eyes as he locked the chain onto one of her wrist rings. Did he really think she was capable of running from him? That she would want to run from him?

Chapter Five.

Wos 25th, Ti 10-449.

*urel opened the door slowly, removing his clothing in silence and ambling to the foot of the bed. He was here again. If he could trust her, he'd sleep here and be done with this insanity of coming to her every time he woke alone and hungry in another room, knowing she was lying a stairway away, constantly aroused by the pleasure cuffs. J Sometimes he brought her to simple climax to aid in his quest and left her wanting. Other times, he gave in and took her to completion. More and more often, he found himself indulging himself that way. Whether it was the hurt look when he left her unsated or his own urges speaking for him, he found that he didn't want to leave her with just a taste of the pa.s.sion unleashed between them in completion.

He stifled a groan, as Veltina s.h.i.+fted her thighs against each other and arched her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into the breeze from the window. Even in sleep, the pleasure cuffs did their job well.

For five days, he'd used them to their fullest advantage. Even mundane tasks like eating and bathing had become a feast of sensation for his young bride.

He smiled. Veltina had no idea what the gold bands with the blood beads meant. Perhaps he would tell her when she carried his heir. Perhaps not. She seemed to enjoy being his possession.

She arched again, his name a whisper on the breeze. Was she simply dreaming of him or did she smell his musk and unconsciously reach for him?

Jurel stroked his aching c.o.c.k, trying to convince himself to leave her for the night. She was addictive; having her was paramount. Sleep was unimportant. Matters of state were tedious interruptions to his endless seduction of his bride.

"Jurel," she pleaded.

It was too much. He circled the bed and pulled her legs wide, kneeling between them.

Veltina startled, ripped from her dreams by the abrupt motion. Her hand touched his chest. Her eyes widened, and she yanked it away, no doubt envisioning some sort of punishment for touching him without his leave to do so.

He took her wrist gently, unlocking the chain and pressing her palm to his chest. She hesitated then dragged her fingertips over his nipples. Jurel groaned, wanting her touch. Veltina traced the vee of curls down his chest and abdomen to the pelt surrounding his member. She paused, flicking an uncertain glance at him.

"Touch it," he growled.

Jurel closed his eyes, ignoring his mind's warning that he trusted too much. She stroked him, applying pressure to all the most sensitive nerve bundles, driving him toward release, though her arousal had to be maddening.

"No," he ordered.

She pulled her hands away abruptly, gasping and wide-eyed.

He cupped her face and kissed her, something he didn't do often enough. The reason why was obvious. When Veltina kissed him, she was all that existed to him. She met his mouth every time with such sweet abandon that he was powerless to stop their progression to more.

Jurel laid over her, nodding his approval as she wrapped her hands over his shoulders. Yes, this was long overdue. He'd wanted to feel her hold him while he loved her since the first time he pierced her body.

She sought out the bundle of nerves at the back of his neck, enflaming his need with a few well-placed strokes. He thrust into her, determined to feel her band constricting him at climax-to hear and feel her egg drop for him.

"Why?" she whispered, her fingers stroking his face.

He moved inside her, feeling as if someone was using pleasure cuffs on him as well. " Why?" he prodded her.

"Why do you torture me thus? Why do you make me want you but deny me? Will it always be this way between us now?" A tear spilled down her cheek.

Jurel brushed it away, cursing her tears. Perhaps she'd forgive him if she knew what he hoped to accomplish. "Not always," he promised. Soon. Very soon, she will conceive.

"When-"

He kissed her again, stilling her question. Veltina groaned, wrapping her legs around his hips and moving against him. She nuzzled her face into his throat and sampled his musk.

He had to tell her. He had to give her hope for an end to this seeming torture she endured. "Veltina," he crooned, "you know a woman's body." If anyone on the face of the planet did, she would.

"Yes," she agreed.

"What happens when a woman climaxes repeatedly? If she experiences simple climax without benefit of completion again and again?"

"Her-" She pressed further into him, gasping out an oath-to Len! "Her body chemistry changes, becomes more acidic."

"Yes. It does." He fought back his release at the thought. "Your people never practice this." He didn't question that it was so.

She shook her head, grasping at his waist and pulling him further into her. "Please, Jurel." Her body pulsed around him.

He roared at that, his release rolling through him. He lodged tight in her stim band, his body buried in hers, reveling at the feeling of being completely wrapped in her body.

Her eyes opened wide. "A child," she whispered. "But why would they not teach something that aids fertility?"

Jurel searched her face, her shock confirming his belief that she'd not dropped an egg. Veltina hadn't come upon this revelation by accident. She was coming to terms with the fact that she carried his child-or not. That remained to be seen.

"You carry my son," he informed her. "Have no doubt that the child is my heir. The priestesses do not teach this, because it only grants sons, and they believe that only sons are worse than no child at all. You know this to be true of them."

She started to speak then looked away, biting her lower lip.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You have what you sought," she responded carefully.

Not nearly. He waited patiently, needing to understand her upset. If she posed any danger at all to his heir, he would have to restrain her and post guards. He prayed she didn't intend something so ridiculous when he was giving her the children she'd been denied. Once she granted him an heir or two, he would even allow her the chance of daughters.

"Will you be leaving my bed?" She didn't meet his eyes, and her breathing hitched.

"Never."

He released the pleasure cuff around one nipple and tossed it to the bedside table. Jurel moistened his fingertips on his tongue and stroked the still-erect and bruised tip, meeting her eyes as she looked up. She watched him remove the other, trembling as he soothed the abraded flesh.

"I will heal them," he vowed.

"No." Her eyes pleaded with him to let the marks heal naturally.

"The arousal will continue while you wear them." Surely, she couldn't wish that.

She managed a shaky smile. "Is your heir not worth your attention to my schen?"

"You may well curse your taunting before you face the Woman's Fast. I have three seasons to sate you properly."

Her smile faltered. "But your battles-"

"A Lengar king answers to no one."

Her eyes widened.

"Your Mother Leiana killed my father almost a week ago. I am king now."

"Not mine," she gasped, seemingly horrified at what he was telling her.

"No," he agreed. "You are not a priestess. You are-my bride."

For a moment, she didn't react to that. Jurel wondered if she understood what he was saying, but she didn't seem shocked or confused. Simply silent.

"Everything they stole from you," he reminded her. "I vowed it. Say again that you are mine and mean it, and I will ride you on my lap dressed in fur in announcement of the fact."

"I swear it. I have always been yours."

He stroked her cheek, smiling as his c.o.c.k released her stim band. Jurel left her body, staring at the final pleasure cuff hungrily. "I believe I will leave that one on until I have presented you. The ride should prove most enjoyable for you that way."

She laughed, a light, joyful sound. "As you wish. I vowed not to remove it. It will be there when you wish to."

Jurel left her, returning to his room to prepare for her presentation. It was nearly an hour before he realized he'd forgotten to chain her.

Veltina curled under a sheet, stroking her fingertips over her womb. A child. In the last year, she'd stopped dreaming of having a child. Being captured was truly the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.

A sound interrupted her sleepy musings, and she smiled. Would Jurel take her again before he presented her to his people? Would he tease her and make her wait?

"Juvia?" a voice whispered.

Her smile faded. She ignored the voice. It was a nightmare, a hallucination. She needed unbroken sleep in her husband's arms and a warm soak in the big tub that seated them both.

"Juvia?"

No. I will not return to Fion's Children! Not now. Not ever!

A hand touched her face, and she s.h.i.+ed from it. "Juvia, we have little time. You must come with me."

Veltina, her mind argued, but some other corner insisted on recognizing Dujuri's voice. "Go away," she pleaded. "Leave me."

"I cannot, cuvia."

Anger forced her eyes wide. "I was not your cuvia this past year while I ached for a kind word. I was not your cuvia when you left me to die in battle."

Dujuri blushed. "That was not my choice. You know that. Mother Leiana has reconsidered. You are fierce in battle. She cannot deny it." She hesitated.

"And?"

"She allowed me this chance to bring you back."

Dujuri... Not her younger sister. Not her mother. One woman of all those she held dear asked for this. Nothing had changed. "I will not go."

"I will not leave you, Juvia."

"I am dishonored. Why do you bother when you know-"

"No one expects you to persevere s.e.xually. Surely, you don't expect to-"

Veltina came up off the bed, facing Dujuri down in a fury. "I persevere, cuvia," she spat. "See how well I please a man who enjoys a woman's pa.s.sion."

Dujuri's eyes widened, and she shook her head in seeming horror.

Veltina felt no shame in her bruises and ornamentation. She was Jurel's, and she would never hide the fact or cower from the truth of it when she reveled in it in his arms.

They'd failed her. Her people had made her an outcast, denied her every comfort and pleasure, tolerated her only for what she could do for them and left her when she asked simple courtesy they would show any other person in the village.

If she returned to them, they would steal her ident.i.ty. She would no longer be Veltina -protected, revered, and enjoyed. She would be Juvia again-unloved, unwanted, unappreciated save her prowess in battle, and dishonored. Dishonored... She would be deemed unworthy of a man's touch again. It is a sacrilege to deny what the G.o.ds made you!

And her child! Mother Leiana would order her force fed gola berry tea if-when she refused it. Her child would be stolen from her. They might even prevent her from conceiving another. They'd never forced sterilization on a woman before, but if they knew the child she carried and wanted to keep, they might.

"Leave me, Dujuri. If you ever cared for me as cuvia, do not ask me to live as an outcast among our own people again. I would rather die."

"But you would rather live as a Lengar bed slave than die?" she gasped.