Chapter 7: Slave of Pleasure
Elathan awakened with a harsh intake of breath, his body still trembling from the terrible nightmare. It was a dream he had nearly every night, and it always ended the same way – with him on the battlefield, staring into Ailidh’s dead eyes.
Usually, he didn’t sleep much at all. Most nights he wandered around his darkened chambers all night, engaging in swordplay or spear exercised just to forget the pain that consumed him. When he finally was so exhausted that his body demanded sleep, he would lie down in his huge four-poster bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep. But later he'd still awaken from horrible dreams, feeling cold and even more tired than before.
This night, however, he had slept astonishingly well, apart from having the usual nightmare again. He felt well-rested this time, and not cold at all.
This night, he wasn't alone.
A wonderful warmth surrounded him, making him so comfortable he considered just drifting off to sleep again. But he also felt water flowing around his legs, and for a moment, he wondered where he was.
Then he remembered.
Igraine. The lake.
As he moved slightly, he felt soft female arms and legs wrapped around him; a warm woman’s body nestled against his side. She was the source of the luxurious warmth that had felt so unfamiliar to him.
The human, she was still here with him. He was surprised that she hadn't left him and returned to her cave. When he breathed in deeply, he realized that her enchanting fragrance was all around him. Her head lay on his left shoulder, while her face was hidden against his neck, her silky dark curls tickling his skin. He loved the color of her hair, especially in contrast to his pale skin. Very slowly he turned his head and buried his nose in it, smelling her. She was undeniably lovely, this mortal woman.
He had never desired elven maidens this much, even if they were so much more graceful than any human could be. It was surprising how happy the mortal looked in her slumber, seemingly content just to lie here with him. He had to acknowledge her courage to stay with him while he slept. She knew how much he hated humans, how effortlessly he could kill her with his bare hands. It was never wise to sleep too close to a warrior. He used to sleep with his weapons near, in case someone attacked him while he rested.
His manhood hardened when he recalled how Igraine had bathed him, her small, curious hands all over his body. It had not been easy to restrain himself. How much he had wished to press her against the rough stone wall and enter her hot wetness, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting into her until she cried out with pleasure. When she had washed his scarred back, it had not only been with the solicitude of a servant. He had felt her touching him lovingly, so eager to explore him.
Then she had pressed her soft curves against his back, molding herself to his body as if she was made only for him. Her hands had lathered the soap over his breast and stomach, coming too close to his shaft. He had been rock hard and throbbing for her, waiting for her touch. Yet it angered him how much he wanted her, how weak he felt with desire for this human woman. Her skillful hands all over his body nearly drove him mad with need. It didn't help that she fondled his backside, obviously enjoying herself. But she really shouldn't have dared to giggle at the same time. The sweet, joyful sound made him furious, and he’d thrown her into the lake. She needed to be taught a lesson, for her audacity in mocking him. And he needed to cool down, urgently, before he simply pinned her against the cavern wall and pounded into her like a wild beast.
Damn, she had taunted him, this impertinent human. But she had made it up to him afterwards. He couldn’t complain about that. He had never felt so desired by a female before. To feel her soft lips around his length, licking and suckling like he was the most delicious dish, had made him lose control completely. Her uninhibited passion had taken him entirely by surprise.
But she had thoroughly enjoyed the power she yielded over him, the little wench. So now it was his turn to be the one on top. And this time, surprise would be on his side.
* * * * *
Igraine woke up in utter darkness. The cool night air caressed her naked skin, and she realized that she was lying on something incredibly smooth. It didn't feel like the sturdy wooden bed with the crude woolen blanket she usually slept on. When she moved her back slightly, she realized that there must be silken sheets, seductively gliding along her body. She was completely naked. She sighed, not knowing when she had last felt such a luxurious material on her skin. It was as if her old world with all its comforts that she regarded as a matter of course, simply didn’t exist anymore.
Her arms were raised above her head. Igraine arched her back like a cat before stretching to her full length, enjoying the tension of her muscles. The hard training lessons had made her body strong and flexible. It was unbelievable how good she felt. She just wanted to slide to the end of the bed, when she noticed that she couldn’t move further down. Her hands were bound, and she was tied to the headboard. She hadn’t noticed because the material connecting her wrists seemed to be soft as silk, too, so light she had only felt it when she tried to get away.
Elathan. He wanted to punish, probably even kill her. Maybe this time she had pushed her luck too far by teasing him. Wide awake now, she struggled to sit up, but couldn’t. When she tried to swing her long legs over the side of the bed, she didn’t even reach the edge of it. Rolling around, she struggled to escape her silken bonds with all her strength, but her efforts were in vain. Now she cursed the fine sheets she lay on for being far too smooth to get a hold somewhere. It made it impossible to break free from the shackles which bound her wrists.
Low male laughter came out of the dark. A torch was lit by one wall, and soft golden light illuminated a section of the chamber. Yet the edges stayed in shadows, so Igraine couldn’t make out how large the cave actually was. She saw that she was lying in a huge, canopied four-poster bed made of dark wood, every thick bedpost richly carved with signs and images similar to those she had seen on the other cavern's walls. The sheets and pillows she rested upon were indeed made of the finest black silk.
Without a doubt this was a bed, fit for a prince: Elathan. She tried not to think how his alabaster skin and light hair would look in contrast to the black sheets when he lay down here, naked. She tried to free her wrists again and tugged at her bonds desperately, using all her strength now. A sudden fear took hold of her. Maybe it had been wrong to assume that the elf had developed some attachment to her, even if it was based only on carnal pleasures. Maybe he would kill her, right here.
“Don’t overexert yourself, little human. These shackles are enchanted. The more you try to escape them, the tighter they get.”
Elathan’s low, melodic voice seemed to fill the cave with warmth, creeping under her skin and alluring her with its magic. When the elf stepped out of the darkness, he wore nothing but tight black trousers and training gloves. The candlelight created a golden glow on his bare skin, outlining every single muscle. His movements were graceful like a panther’s as he started to pace around the chamber, carrying a long, slender spear over one shoulder. Igraine drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“You have no idea how old I am, human,” Elathan said, his tone earnest now. “And you can’t even begin to imagine how far my hatred towards your people goes.”
Igraine felt anger welling up inside her. “Oh yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Igraine hissed back. He was trying to humiliate her again. This situation was ridiculous. Here she was, vulnerable and naked before this haughty, arrogant male who had repeatedly declared how much he wanted to kill not only her, but all mankind.
“Is this the reason why you like to lurk near bridges and murder innocent women?”
Elathan stopped his pacing and looked at her, tilting his head to the side like a curious cat. His dark-rimmed eyes didn’t seem golden now, glowing like burning coals in the night. “You think I am a murderer?” he asked, astonished.
“Of course. Don't try to tell me that I'm the first woman you abducted. I might be a lowly human, Your Royal Highness, but I am not stupid.”
Elathan answered with a superior smile that made her heart beat faster against her will. “When I see humans who are foolish enough to walk through the streets in the night, unaccompanied, sometimes I consider ending their worthless lives. But usually, hunting down a prey which is no challenge at all is not much fun. So the answer to your question is no, I don't kill helpless women, even if they are human. You, on the other hand, are different.”
Igraine gasped in shock. “Did you just intimate that killing me would be fun?”
The prince chuckled. “Maybe, maybe not. I could think of other ways you could entertain me.” His eyes wandered shamelessly over Igraines naked body, making her blush like a virgin. Although she was in much better shape, she still had to learn to feel self-confident about herself. However, Elathan seemed to like what he saw, judging from the look on his face. "You are the only mortal I ever stole, Igraine," he said softly. "I want you."
Igraine swallowed hard. "Will you rape me before you kill me, then?" she whispered.
Elathan was beside her in an instant. His eyes were glowing furiously while he pressed the tip of his spear to Igraine’s throat.
“Watch your tongue, human,” he thundered. “Look at me. I am Prince Elathan of Fearann. Do you really think I have the need to take any female against her will?” The elf stretched out his free hand. His gloved fingers stroked the side of her neck before they slowly traveled down over her naked flesh, which was aching with desire for him. When he reached one of her breasts, he circled her hardened nipple with his fingertip, so teasingly light that she arched her back to mold herself into his hand, demanding more.
He just laughed, abruptly withdrawing his fingers. “Let's pretend that I just lied to you, and that I abducted other mortal women before, sweet Igraine. Imagine how ruthlessly I might have used them to satisfy my carnal needs, touched them like this …” His hand moved down over her belly, right down to her womanly core. There, he caressed her very gently, so light that she moaned with frustration.
“If I had seduced them, arousing their passion until they begged me to take them … how would you feel about that, Igraine? Angered, eager to kill me? Or would it excite you?” he whispered huskily. Instinctively, Igraine opened her thighs for him, longing to be touched. Again, he drew back his hand before she could rub herself against his fingers.
“Face the truth, Igraine,” the prince continued, his tone serious now. “I found you walking the streets in the middle of the night, unaccompanied. When I watched you on that bridge, I knew that nobody would come searching if I took you with me – no lover, no kin or family. In your world, you are alone. I saw it in your eyes. No one will come for you.”
Igraine was too ashamed to even try lying to him. His words hurt her, but he was right. She averted her eyes so he wouldn't see the tears stinging in them. "The Fae know that humans do not care enough about each other to protect their own people. Maybe they'll search for a short while, but there is no way that anyone would find you down here. Soon, the human world will have forgotten all about you. As you see, you are stuck here with me.” His gaze caught hers and held it prisoner for a while, waiting for her reaction. Igraine closed her eyes, unwilling to let him see her inner turmoil. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Her parents had died in a car accident long ago, leaving her to grow up with a distant relative, an aunt who never had the desire for children of her own. She had tried to fight for Aunt Irene’s love, being the best child she could be, but in vain. Irene gave her everything she needed. Nevertheless, Igraine had never felt really wanted. The day she turned eighteen, her aunt had told her to leave the house as soon as possible. Later, Igraine believed that she eventually had found a home with Stephen, but she had been wrong. It seemed as if she wasn’t very good at attracting love, no matter how hard she tried.
Elathan, however, seemed indifferent to her distress. Raising the spear from her neck, he straightened and continued to pace the chamber once more. When he began to talk, the rich timbre of his voice seemed to comfort her, alluring her with its own magic.
“You have to know that there wasn’t always only enmity between elf and man. I recall a time, long ago, when we were living together in peace, knowing our differences, of course. We are so much stronger than humans, wiser due to our age. Our feelings are deeper and more passionate. Yet sometimes we miss the happiness you find in a simple moment, and we envy you the intensity with which you live your short lives. After all, we have so much time. You are fickle and treacherous; changing your loyalties like your clothing. Your greed knows no boundaries. Maybe it’s the knowledge that certain death will be your fate, no matter what you do or what you’ll achieve.
“Nevertheless, your people and mine once found a way to exist side by side, respecting each other’s borders.” He fell silent for a moment, starting to whirl the spear around in his hand while he walked.
“Throughout the ages, Fae have enjoyed stealing humans if one of them caught their eye. Usually, they just seduced the mortals, then brought them back to their own world and cast a spell on them so they would never remember. However, there were a few who chose to stay together as master and slave, though not every human was strong enough to survive elven passion. If a mortal woman surrendered herself out of free will to become an elf's slave of pleasure, to unite with him both in body and mind, there was a ritual to magically seal their connection.
“Both would shed and share their blood, drinking from it before they became one. Old elven blood is very strong. It can heal, it has the power to unite souls, but only if the gift is given voluntarily and without conditions.
“Thus, a new bond between elf and human would be created - a bond for life, so strong that nothing could separate them from that day on. At the beginning, this connection would be grounded on lust, not love. Love can never be gained with magic alone. It can only be given freely. But their mating would be complete, with body and soul alike. When they eventually joined their bodies it would cause so much pleasure that some humans would just die if their weak minds could not stand the immense feelings anymore.
“You have to understand that being a slave of pleasure for an elven warrior was nothing to be ashamed of. It was a gift given freely, a rare and precious thing, and also a great honor bestowed upon those who were worthy of it. The human would be treated with the utmost respect by Fae and men alike, as she helped to secure the peace between our people. She would be pampered and given everything she wished for. Her only task was to please her master with her body whenever he needed her, in every way he desired. She would share his bed and comfort him with her sweet presence when he returned home, weary from battle.”
“A spoiled concubine,” Igraine whispered.
Elathan shook his head, deep in thought. “No. The bond between a slave of pleasure and her master was much stronger than that. They would share a mental connection, as well. The master would always know where his human was, and even the human would be able to sense her master, although she lacked elven senses.”
He stopped his pacing and turned to Igraine, his glowing stare so intense it seemed to burn her alive. “I always avoided humans when I could, and I have lived apart from my people for a very long time. Being alone suited me well enough, until I finally grew tired of my self-chosen solitude. Igraine …” His voice was no more than a whisper. “I do not wish to be alone anymore. I long for a female’s soft touch. I want a woman to take care of my body’s needs. But also I want her to sing me to sleep when I find no peace at night; to hold me in the darkness.” Igraine held her breath when he paused and turned to her, his predator's eyes searching her face.
“I am Elathan, son of Bres. And I choose you, Igraine, to become my slave of pleasure.”
Igraine just stared at him in speechless disbelief. She couldn't believe what just had happened. Elathan could have commanded her to be his slave so easily. His supernatural strength, his magic made it so easy for him to overwhelm her, to force her to comply. Still, he had asked her to stay with him, to give herself to him out of her own free will.
Elathan’s eyes narrowed while he watched her, obviously waiting for an answer. When she stayed silent, he continued: “If you surrender yourself to me, human, I will give you pleasure unlike any you have experienced before. I will care for you. You will also be under my protection, for I will always know where you are and if you are in danger, having tasted your blood joined with mine. My blood will give you a lifespan longer than any other human has, though you will not become immortal. The bond we’d share could never been broken, as long as we both shall live.
“But there are also dangers, sacrifices to be made. I already stated that our mating could drain so much strength from you that it could kill you. And you can never resist your master’s call, if I command you to come to me. If I am wounded, you will feel the pain as it was your own. Also know that if I should die unexpectedly, it is very possible that you will die, too, especially if the bond between us has grown very strong.”
The prince tilted his head to the side while he regarded the naked, bound woman on his bed. “Say, how you choose, human. Will you give yourself to me freely, willingly? Or will you decline? If so, I will set you free to return to the world from which you came. Now tell me, Igraine.” He spoke out her name like a lover's endearment. It felt like a caress on her skin.
Igraine couldn’t believe that he had just promised to let her go if she didn’t agree to become his slave. If she had any common sense at all, she should take the chance and run. But when she looked up she saw his pale face, his dark, dangerous beauty, the pain and loneliness in his black-rimmed eyes. Then, to her utter astonishment, she suddenly heard herself whisper: “Yes, Elathan. I give myself to you, out of free will.”
The prince moved so fast that he looked like a silver white flash, blurring her vision. In an instant, he appeared at the side of the bed. His deadly spear moved with incomprehensible speed, only a hair’s breadth away from her body. It cut through the surface of the skin below her throat, just deep enough to draw blood.
Igraine gasped, though she felt no pain at all. She just lay there and watched him straddle her body without bearing his weight on her. The prince let his spear fall to the stony floor and raised a small dagger that had been hidden under his belt. Golden candlelight fell on his face while he slowly drew the blade over his hard chest, just below the hollow at the base of his neck. Blood welled out of the wound. It was deep red like her own.
Elathan dropped the dagger before he let himself down on his elbows, not touching her but so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked down at her with an expression of raw desire in his eyes.
“Sweet Igraine.” His voice was hoarse, full of passion. “Now I’ll make you mine.”
Slowly, he lowered his body onto hers and started rubbing his chest against her breasts. His long mass of hair spread out all over her, while he fully covered her from neck to hip. His heated skin slippery from blood, he glided from side to side first, then slowly up and down, uniting human and elven blood. He spread her legs with his muscular thighs and pressed his hard, aching arousal against her silken haven. She was well prepared for his entrance, he could feel it through the thin fabric of his trousers. Inwardly he cursed the fact that he couldn’t simply enter her, mark her as his own forever. Not yet, a voice in his head whispered, calming his overwhelming desire. It could kill her. But soon, she would be his.
Groaning, he covered the back of her head with his hand and brought her up to his wide chest, coaxing her to taste him.
Without hesitation, Igraine touched his skin with her lips. She instinctively knew what to do. Kissing him softly at the base of his neck, she moved deeper, licking away their joined blood that bound them together forever. She could feel him inside her mind from the moment she tasted the first sweet drop on her tongue. His immortal power streamed through her body, making her strong. Her blood rushed through her veins, her skin tingled. Every cell in her body seemed to renew itself while she was reborn as his mate.
Elathan, her soul cried out. It felt as if his magic took possession of her whole being, searching for the wounds that had been inflicted on her soul and still bled, torturing her from inside. He was healing her, gently taking away her pain and surrounding her with his comforting strength. Greedily now, she licked him up and down, washing him clean with her tongue.
Elathan couldn’t take it anymore. He pressed her back onto the sheets and started to ravish her with his skillful tongue, tasting her blood. She belonged to him now, as long as she lived. There was nothing either of them could do to change this, not anymore. The moment he tasted her life's elixir, he started to feel her, all of her – her sweet pure soul, driven only by the yearning to give and receive love. Her heart bore deep, bleeding wounds. His human, she had scars, too - not visible like his, but just as many. When his lips found her breast, his tongue started to play with the rosy nipple. Then, without warning, he sucked her hard into his mouth. Igraine moaned and wriggled under him, struggling against her silken shackles . He continued his naughty little game with her other breast, very softly biting this time. His moonshine hair was all over her body and caressing her skin every time he moved.
When he lifted his head and claimed her lips, Igraine met him with unveiled passion and kissed him back, teasing him with her tongue. He slightly bit her lower lip, just to punish her a little bit for her forwardness. She answered with a low moan, a sound so sensual that it aroused him even more. He could hardly restrain himself from taking her body now.
Suddenly he needed to taste her, wanted to explore the secret place that was his to take. He went deeper and grabbed her hips with his strong hands, lifting her to meet his intimate kiss.
Igraine gasped when she felt his hot breath between her thighs. He paused for a moment to inhale her delicious, womanly scent before he kissed her soft mound. His tongue parted her nether lips, diving between them to find her tiny pearl. Igraine cried out and struggled against her silken bonds, longing to be free to touch him. She wanted to caress his body, entangle her fingers in his beautiful hair, scratch her nails over his back as a revenge for the lustful torture he gave her. Again, she discovered that his elven tongue was just a little rougher than a human’s, which increased her pleasure immensely.
Slowly, very slowly Elathan encircled the little swollen center of her desire with his tongue, alternately licking and suckling until he heard her scream out his name. Elathan. It sounded like a sighed plea to take her. Although he had forbidden her to call him by his name, he loved the way it sounded on her lips. He lifted his head, which made her wriggle her hips and moan with frustration. Yet his strong hands pinned her down to the bed, mercilessly.
“You’re mine now, human,” he growled, his voice rich with passion. “Mine. Say it. Say my name.”
Igraine barely heard him. Her whole being seemed to be reduced to the aching place where she wanted to feel his tongue again. Panting, she tried to push her hips up to meet his mouth. But the prince showed no mercy until she surrendered to his command.
“I’m yours,” she said breathlessly.
“Beg me. Say my name.”
She gave up, unable to wait any longer. “Elathan,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop. I want you.”
With a quick movement of his hand, he freed her from the silken bonds that held her imprisoned. Igraine had her hands on him in an instant. Moaning, she clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. Elathan grabbed her adorable backside, pushed her up to his mouth and conquered her completely - licking, teasing, exploring the entrance of her hot wetness longing for him. He bit her velvety lips very softly, tugging at them with his teeth, thoroughly pleased when she cried out his name again. His tongue delved deep, parting her wet folds and licking its way from the base to the top until he reached the tiny nub of flesh again.
A human’s lustful cries echoed off the walls of the prince’s bedchamber. “Come for me, Igraine”, he commanded harshly. Shuddering, she yielded to his wish. Only then he increased the pressure of his tongue and licked her rapidly, pushing her over the edge.
Igraine felt waves of exquisite sensation roll over her while she came again and again, trembling violently. She moaned his name as if it was the last anchor she could hold onto until the tide carried her away, never to return. When the storm finally receded, she found herself drifting down into the dark, warm waters of unconsciousness, only marginally aware that she was encircled in a prince’s strong arms the whole time.
Elathan's heart was filled with peace as he contentedly watched the sleeping woman in his bed. She belonged to him now. He had wrapped his whole body around her, just to keep her warm and safe. Smiling, he mused over why fate had brought her into his life so unexpectedly. It had been most satisfying for him to watch her passionate reactions, to hear her scream his name. Oh yes, she proved most pleasing, his little slave. He could not wait to lose himself in her, mark her as his own forever.
But first, just to make sure that she was strong enough to take him into her body, she had to pass a final test.
Elathan would arrange a most enjoyable hunt for tomorrow. It was the last part of the initiation ritual for a slave of pleasure. He looked forward to the moment when he'd catch his precious little prey. Then, finally, he would take what was now rightfully his.