A Dagger's Release - Episode 1
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Her burgundy dress hugged up tight against her breasts as she stared at him.
Arms held tight behind his back by her soldier, he glared back at her. The
wind wipped his long hair free of its leather band, sending it whispering
over his naked chest. She drew her dagger casually, her thumb running
suggestively over its engraved hilt. Holding his brown eyes with her own,
she traced the blade around one nipple, barely creasing the delicate skin
there, then slid the knife slowly down his abdomin.
"There is a rare kind of beauty, Prince. It breathes with a voice of fear.
Do you know this beauty?"
He turned his head, jaw clenched.
"Look at me," she whispered.
"Fuck you," he murmured.
The soldier jerked him up tight, driving into his back, forcing his chest
out. She grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his face back around. "I
don't want you, Prince. But I have a number of courtiers who love fine, pale
skin. They are vain about their...various skills. I, however have no use for
pride. Pride is only for breaking. It exists only before the aweful clarity
of submission. You will come back to me, on your knees and willingly."
"There is a place where you will never touch me, Kallida." He was shaking.
"Places in my mind that you will never be able to go."
"Go there, then, Prince. And there will you find me, too."
The dagger traced down the length of his cock, lifting it. She smiled
sweetly as he struggled to hold her gaze. "Fear. See what it is doing to
you, Love?" He shut his eyes, then, trying desperately to still the
sensations within him.
"To your knees, Prince."
The soldier drove him down with a laugh. She rested the tip of the blade in
the small of his throat, staring down at him with her maddening smile. With
a flick of her free hand, she unlinked the series of skirt hooks, and pulled
her dress back from the waist down. "You are for my pleasure, Prince."
"If you think..."
The blade cut into his skin just enough for him to feel the barest line of
white heat. He swallowed, feeling the blood trickle slowly down his the
tight skin of his throat.
"My pleasure, Prince." The fingers of her free hand touched his forehead,
tracing his temples, his nose, then finally resting on his lips. The
gentleness, all at odds with the hot tip of the blade, confused him. Her
hand curved slowly around the back on his neck, tipping his face toward her
nakedness. "Submission is easy, Love. It is like a meditation, a prayer. You
must not think of what you feel, only what I must feel. And there, only
there will you find the freedom I know you seek."
He could smell her sweet scent, the faint musk that drove him from the gut.
Behind him, the soldier chuckled softly. He closed his eyes, and leaned his
face into her, gently parting her shaved lips with his tongue. She sighed
above him, her fingers twisting in his long hair. She was right, he
realized. Held from behind, the knife at his throat, he was powerless in a
way that freed him. She moved deeper into his face, and he could feel her
trembling.