Where Faeries Live Still ...

Warnings:  Nudity, fondling, D/s, FemDom. light bond

“Colin!” Aine barked sharply at her brother’s servant, appalled by his open defiance.  “I asked you to stay!” she hissed her rebuke.  At the edge of the stones, Colin turned to glare at the pair.  He tossed the cowl from his head.  Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the wedding procession gleefully making its merry way towards Brynda’s house for the remaining celebration, feasting, dancing and reveling.

“Colin, think!  Your choices here will affect an eternity,” Aine admonished him.  Her eyes begged him to see; to choose her over Edward.

“How can I refuse my Master?” he spat bitterness, glowering at Connor as well. 

“Does your Master wait for you?” she accused.  “Does he fulfill his promises?”

“Perhaps he just needs more time …” Colin whispered sadly.  “I dare not anger him.” 

“We all have choices,” Aine conceded.  “I could command you to stay.  Then, what would you do?  Obey or disobey?  Would I not protect you?”

“Have you protected me all this time? Have you kept faithful your promises?” he shouted at her.  Connor’s face fell as he struggled to remain obedient.  “NO!  You have left me alone with him, to face his moods, his whims.  Could you have not taken me with you?” he accused her.

“Colin, you know full well I could not bring you with me.  I have made no promises to break until now, when I promised you that the time would come for a better life, a better place.  That time is now.  Please?” Aine pleaded with the recalcitrant brother.  Connor trembled, whether from cold or fear for the events playing out before him, Aine could not tell. 

“At least with Edward, I am promised a comfortable life, small luxuries of servants and nice clothes.  I should turn from this to lead the life of a farmhand?  Subject to your whims instead?  For what?  Meager meals and a few, sparsely dealt favors?”  Colin spat on the ground at her feet, shunning all she offered him, before turning his back on the pair.  He stormed off without a backward glance. 

“Colin?” Connor called softly, not breaking from his position though. 

Sadly, Aine watched until Colin disappeared back into the black shadows made by the trees.

“Part of his trial, pet.  We cannot do anymore,” she reassured him.  Facing him, she stepped closer, shivering from the cold and fear.  “His choice to make, the ways of man or the ways of woman.  He will have to live with his decision now.”

Connor stared at her, imploring for permission to speak. 

“Yes?” she questioned him.

“Will he be punished for this?”  Connor asked shakily.

“By Edward?” Aine requested clarification.

“Yes?”

“No.  I should think not.  Edward will be quite pleased that your brother has chosen his ways, the ways of the new world, over mine,” Aine stated firmly. 

“How could he?” Connor asked in confusion.

“It is his destiny,” Aine affirmed mysteriously, resting her hand on his shoulder. 

“So mote it be,” Connor replied.   

“So mote it be, pet.”  Aine added, “Tonight shall be a glorious night.  We shall celebrate under the stars, offering our gifts at the break of dawn.”  She touched his cheek, smiling.  “Stand at the center of the circle, pet.  Remember all of your training so far.  This night is your greatest trial meant to lead to your greatest triumph.” 

Connor pulled away from her reassuring touch to center himself as requested.  Aine watched him, approval radiating from her.  Behind his back, she moved to her altar and the pottery bowl that held the blessing oils. 

“Strip, pet,” she demanded firmly.  Connor undid the ties of his white robe, slipping the cowl back, allowing it to slide down his naked back to pool on the ground.  He stood perfectly balanced; feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped, wrist to wrist, behind his back.  The moonlight kissed his skin with her cool white light, caressing him, bathing him, blessing him.  “Gorgeous,” she murmured appreciatively.  “Absolutely gorgeous,” she praised, nearly breathless in awe.  She held the pottery bowl in her hands, merely taking time to study the muscles of his back, the corded muscles of his forearms as they held taut against each other, and the sturdy presence of his legs reaching into the ground as though taking root through his very bones of his feet.  He was the quintessence of power, submission, servitude and strength – all of the qualities Aine had been charged with imbuing into depths of his soul. 

Drawing a deep, cleansing breath of the night air, Aine stepped close behind him, dipping her fingers into the herb infused oils.  Smiling, she began to trace the ancient runes and sigils onto the canvas of his bare flesh, gently, barely touching him, leaving each one to glisten in the light of the sister moon smiling down upon them. 

“Know this,” she instructed as she worked from his broad shoulders downward.  “No matter what shall come at the breaking of the day, I love you.  Hold that in the deepest part of your heart, pet.” 

“Yes, Mistress,” he agreed albeit somewhat confused and hesitantly. 

“Thank you.”  Singing softly, the songs of ancient days, she proceeded to caress and decorate every inch of his skin, finally moving to the front.  The sight he presented for her forced a delighted little gasp of surprise from her normally well-controlled lips.  There, at the base of his proudly jutting erection, was the green velvet ribbon adorning his gift to her, loose enough to allow freedom.

 “Pet!” she exclaimed.  “Well played,” she praised him, dropping to her knees to trace the ritual runes onto his stiff flesh that jumped, throbbed and pulsed at her touch.  “Oh how I long to taste you …” she lusted.  “Too long …” 

Connor towered over her, his hands clenching, swallowing hard, maintaining composure.  He didn’t dare look down into the face of his Mistress peering adoringly up at his cock.  Nimbly, she untied his gift, using the ribbon to hold back her own hair.

 

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