The Love of a Slave

Arielle let out a contented sigh as she slipped into the steaming bath. Her tense muscles relaxed as the hot water caressed them.

She felt dirty. It was normal these days, but it was still a comfort to feel like the grime was being lifted away. Of course, she knew all too well that the feeling of unclean was not physical, and this feeling of purity would only last so long. As soon as she stepped back into Coran’s bedchamber and saw him sprawled across the large bed, almost wantonly, the filth would come back ten-fold.

She closed her eyes, letting out a small groan of frustration. Coran would be the death of her.

Ever since the night of the Ball, Arielle had been unable to even think straight. Watching Coran lying there so wantonly, pleasure etched all over his too-perfect features was too much. Introduce the fact that she saw herself working so hard to bring him said pleasure, and you have a major fucking predicament. There was mortification, of course. And disgust… lots and lots of disgust.

She knew why she was kept around: to be Coran’s new sex slave; his concubine. She had never fulfilled any of her duties, obviously. Coran had explained everything to her that first night in the palace.

“You are to bring me pleasure whenever I demand it, and you are to surrender yourself fully to me.”

Arielle snorted a bit at the memory. Coran had used his Lordly voice on her. That commanding, slightly menacing tone that made most cower and trip over their own two feet. Admittedly, she was no exception then.

She had been so afraid that night; pulled from her bed in the middle of the night, brought to a strange place, and poked and prodded by even stranger people. Well, if you wanted to consider faeries people. She had screamed in wide-eyed terror when she saw them. Coran was the only one who looked actually normal, and she felt such relief when she was brought to him. Only to have him disappoint her further than all the rest, of course.

He had given her a lengthy speech on her duties as his personal servant. He told her how she was to behave, how she was to dress (or rather, she wasn’t to dress at all,) how she was to think. Then he pressed her down onto the bed, covered her with that hard body of his, and started kissing her and touching her in all the right places.

Oh, how she begged him to stop. She pleaded and cried.

“Wait, no, please. Stop it, please.” Arielle sobbed. “Stop, I’m… I’ve never done this before. Please don’t.”

He had looked up at her with startled green eyes and he had stopped, just like she asked him. He had never attempted to touch her again after that, and Arielle had never bothered to bring it up. If he was going to ignore her “responsibilities” then she certainly wasn’t going to push it. But, seeing that girl---whoever she was---wearing her face and doing all the things that Arielle had tried so hard to avoid, well… it stirred something in her: anger, humiliation, fear. At least, until the dreams started.

She went to sleep that night, keeping as much distance between her body and Coran’s that she was nearly falling off the edge of the bed. She just wanted some peace, some sweet relief from the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts plaguing her. Relief was definitely not what her sweet dreams were filled with.

She had pictured Coran on top of her, all powerful and needy like that first night. He was kissing her and caressing her with feather-light touches. She was practically writhing underneath him. Then he leaned down and whispered something in her ear, making her flush with need. She never remembered exactly what it was in the morning, but it always made her fall apart. “God, please,” she shuddered, clawing her nails down Coran’s muscled back. He never made her wait. He thrust into her and filled her up so blissfully, but she never reached the end. No, she always woke up right before that pressure in her belly exploded.

And when she woke up, the aching between her thighs was almost unbearable, but she stubbornly ignored it. Every time she resisted the urge to reach between her legs and just release that tension.

Except it was only getting worse. Arielle had fallen asleep for a short afternoon nap despite herself. When she woke, the nearly ever-present burn was there, driving her insane.

She sank further into the water, letting her golden hair fan out around her. She was burning with want, so badly it was painful. It had never gotten this bad before. Chewing her lip, her fingers twitch uncertainly. She didn’t want to give in, but it was becoming unbearable.

With a sigh, she slid her hand up and down her stomach absently. Fingers skimmed her naval, ghosting across her breasts on their way back up. Her forefinger circled her nipple, flicking its tip lightly with her fingernail a few times. She groaned as it hardened in response. Her hand flitted over to her other breast and gave it the same treatment.

The burning in the bottom of her stomach intensified until it could no longer be ignored. She slipped a hand between her thighs, a soft cry ripped from her as her fingers nestled inside her folds. She little circles around her clit, moaning at the sparks that flared in her belly.

She ventured to the soft slit just below it, inserting one finger into herself. She bucked her hips as she crooked her finger and scratched the sensitive flesh with her nail. She inserted two more, crooking and scissoring them. Her other hand alternated between rubbing her swollen clit, to pinching her pebbled nipples. It took only minutes for the tension to reach its breaking point. She threw her head back and screamed as her orgasm ripped through her. Stars were dancing along her vision and every inch of her body was alight.

As the affects slowly wore off, she slipped ashamedly from the soothing water and tried to ignore the fact that she had blindly cried out Coran’s name as she came.