Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
The king waves his hand, brushing the smoke spears into nothingness. He holds my gaze for a long moment. There are no stars in his, but they gleam like a fold of mahogany silk as he snatches my wrist and turns away. I stumble after him as he drags me toward the dais. Should I fight him? Should I go obediently? Everything moves so quickly. I cast a look back at Luthian and see his stricken face, a hand reaching out toward me as if to pull me back.
“No. I think I’ll amuse myself with this one,” the king says, crushing my wrist in his grip until I cry out with pain.
“Your Majesty—” Luthian begins to protest, but King Arcus is striding up the dais, to his throne.
He means to take me before the entire court.
To humiliate Luthian.
I have to suppress a smug smile. My Guardian is devious. He’s planned this all along. I’m almost giddy with how quickly the king has fallen for our ruse.
Arcus grabs the back of my head, sinking his hands into my bound hair and jerking hard. His tongue paints a hot swipe up my neck. “You’ve never had a king before, have you? You are permitted, and commanded, to answer me.”
I think quickly. His roughness implies he enjoys inflicting pain. His anger implies he wants me to fear him. I force myself to tremble, my voice to quiver. “N-no, Your Majesty.”
“I hope your husband has prepared you for our ways, or this will be a nasty surprise, indeed.” Arcus chuckles, and I whimper. Across the room, Luthian stands still, his expression stricken, his eyes holding mine.
I almost believe he’s truly despairing. To anyone who doesn’t know our plans, he would appear to be.
Arcus laughs cruelly and pulls me to stand with my back pressed to his chest. His grip on my hair tightens, bringing tears to my eyes that will add a nice touch of authenticity to the scene. He uses his other hand to jerk down the front of my dress, exposing my breasts. He sucks in a mockingly appreciative breath as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I see how you were tempted away from your kind, Luthian.” Arcus palms my breast roughly, and there’s a murmur of appreciation from the courtiers, who watch my humiliation with rapt attention.
Another tug rends the front of my dress entirely. He could merely wave a hand to undress me, so this violence is intentional. I lean into the role I’m playing and sob, try to cover myself.
He slaps my hands away. “No, no. Your husband will learn a lesson today. Hold her.”
He shoves me forward. Pins scatter from my hair as he tears his hand free. For a moment, it seems I’ll plummet from the dais, but something catches me.
Sylphs made of cloud grab my wrists. I struggle against them and find they’re surprisingly strong. I note that, should it ever come up again.
The king unlaces his breeches and frees himself. His shaft is long and thick, and I widen my eyes at the sight of it, as if terrified.
Size is a point of pride for creatures who have cocks. Luthian impressed that upon me during one of our etiquette lessons. In the case of King Arcus, I don’t have to do much pretending to be impressed. I hope my shiver of anticipation is interpreted as fear. I make my face a mask of horror and struggle once more.
Arcus seats himself on the throne and motions to the sylphs. They push me forward, the toes of my slippers barely skimming the floor, as I try to scrabble away. With every renewed struggle, the desire darkening Arcus’s gaze intensifies. He’s so consumed with his lust for revenge against Luthian, he can’t see through my ruse. All the better for me.
“Strip her.” Arcus orders.
The Sylphs tear my gown away, rip the panniers and corset with claws of air like knives. I try to cover myself again, and sob openly.
The king holds his cock at the base. “Bring her.”
“No!” I cry frantically. “No, Your Majesty, please!”
I scream, kicking my legs as the sylphs turn me to face the court.
They’re enraptured. Every faery watches, some of them languidly touching each other or themselves, unable to tear their eyes away from the spectacle before them.
I remember my first night with Luthian, standing on the stage and touching myself while an audience of fae watched me.
Did Luthian know this would happen? Was he preparing me for it?
More sylphs materialize to hold my legs, to bend them into position as all four lower me onto Arcus’s lap. The tip of his cock brushes my center and I renew my futile fight.
“She’s wet already,” Arcus announces, and the court laughs.
“Please, please!” I chant, false tears streaming down my face.
There is no mercy at the Court of Pleasure and Torment.