Chapter 9: Lace and Punishment
The storm broke just after dawn, not with rain, but with a silent, mutual understanding. The rut’s fever had receded from a boil to a simmer, a constant heat in Eris’s veins that sharpened his senses but no longer stripped his control. They had moved from the fur by the hearth to the four-poster bed in the cabin’s shadowed loft, a relic of gentler times draped in deep, dusty crimson silk.
Lilly stood beside the bed, the weak grey light filtering through the single small window and catching on the intricate lace of the black lingerie she had produced from her pack. It was scandalous, a confection of straps and sheer panels that highlighted more than it hid. The sight of her—the delicate shadows of her nipples behind the lace, the dark triangle between her legs visible through the fabric—made his blood thrum anew.
She looked at him, a challenge in her eyes. “Do you like it?”
“It’s a ridiculous garment,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Impossible to remove quickly.”
“That’s the point,” she replied, a slow smile spreading. She climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the soft mattress as she crawled over him. Her scent, lavender from the sachet she’d tucked into the sheets and her own sweet arousal, enveloped him. She settled her weight on his thighs, her core hovering just above the hard line of his erection straining against his trousers. A bead of her wetness, warm through the lace, dripped onto his stomach. “Three times,” she purred, her fingers tracing the prominent line of his cock. “That’s how many orgasms you’re going to give me before breakfast.”
He arched a brow, a flicker of dry amusement cutting through the hunger. “Am I?”
“You are.” With a fluid motion, she produced two lengths of enchanted silk from beneath a pillow. They shimmered faintly, a spell of simple binding woven into the threads. Before he could move—though the question lingered whether he truly wanted to—she had looped one around his right wrist, pulling it taut to the intricately carved bedpost. “Behave,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
He watched her, his expression impassive, as she secured his other wrist. The bindings were strong, but they wouldn’t hold a High Fae in his rut if he truly fought them. That was not, he realized, the game. The game was her presumption, her daring. It was intoxicating.
With his arms stretched above his head, the muscles of his chest and abdomen taut, she sat back on her heels to admire her work. Her gaze was possessive, hungry. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her lingerie and slid it down her legs, tossing it aside. She was bare now, glistening, utterly in command. She positioned herself over him, her hand guiding him as she sank down onto his length with a low, shuddering sigh.
“Fuck,” she breathed, her head tipping back as he filled her. She was still swollen and sensitive from their earlier, frenzied couplings, and the stretch was exquisite. She began to move, not with frantic need, but with deliberate, torturous circles of her hips. Each rotation ground him deep inside her, rubbing against a spot that made her eyes glaze.
Eris watched her, the cords standing out in his neck as he strained against the silks, not to break free, but to thrust up into her. He was denied that. All he could do was lie there and take the devastatingly slow ride she was giving him.
“Enjoying the view?” she managed, her voice thick.
“I am,” he admitted, his own voice a dark rumble. “But this is a temporary power, little one. A borrowed throne.”
She lifted herself almost all the way off, then dropped back down, making them both gasp. “I like it up here.”
“I can see that.” He paused, letting the tension build as she settled into a rhythm, her inner walls clutching him rhythmically. “Do you know what I’m going to do when you untie me?”
She moaned, her pace faltering for a second. “What?”
“First,” he said, his tone conversational, almost detached, “I’m going to let you have your three. I’m going to watch you come apart on my cock, screaming my name. I’m going to memorize every tremor, every sob.” He emphasized his point by flexing his hips upward as much as his restraints allowed, driving a sharp cry from her lips. “Then, I’m going to wait.”
She rocked faster, her breasts swaying, her breath coming in short pants. “Wait for what?”
“For you to think it’s over. For you to let your guard down.” His gaze locked onto hers, holding her as surely as the silks held him. “I’ll wait until you don’t see me coming. When you’re walking to the bath, or reaching for a cup of tea, or bending to tend the fire.” He saw the flutter of her pulse in her throat, the darkening of her eyes. “I’m going to come up behind you, pull you back against me, and I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name. I won’t stop until you’re so thoroughly claimed, so completely mine, that the only word left in your pretty head is ‘please.’ I’ll fuck the defiance right out of you. I’ll fuck you until submission is all you know, until this sweet cunt can’t clench around anything but me, until you can’t walk without feeling me.”
His crude, graphic promise electrified the air. Lilly’s rhythm shattered into something desperate and needy. “Oh, god,” she whimpered, her movements becoming erratic. “Eris… your cock… it feels so deep, so good, I can’t—”
“You can,” he growled, urging her on with his words since his hands could not. “Take your first one. Come for me. Show me what my toy looks like when it breaks.”
The obscene permission, the cold ownership in his words, tipped her over the edge. A sharp, ragged cry tore from her throat as her orgasm seized her. Her back arched violently, her inner muscles milking his length in rhythmic, punishing spasms. She shook with it, her cries echoing off the wooden beams, her pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
As the waves subsided, she collapsed forward onto his chest, slick with sweat, her body trembling. She was panting, her lips parted against his skin.
He turned his head, his mouth near her ear. “One,” he whispered.
The single word was a promise and a threat. She lifted her head, her eyes dazed but alight with a reckless fire. She began to move again, slow at first, then building, her body already singing for the second. The game had changed. Now, every slide of his flesh inside hers was charged with the anticipation of his revenge, a revenge she was already craving. She rode him with a frantic, sobbing urgency, chasing the next peak, each moan now a praise of his size, his possession, and a silent, desperate plea for the brutal fulfillment of his promise.
She rode him with a frantic, sobbing urgency, chasing the next peak, each moan now a praise of his size, his possession, and a silent, desperate plea for the brutal fulfillment of his promise. Her body was a slick, trembling mess above him, but a new, wicked determination hardened her gaze. She knew his words were a cage being built around her, and instead of fleeing, she chose to rattle the bars.
With a sudden, fluid motion, she pulled herself off him, his cock slipping wetly from her heat. The cool air was a shock against his glistening skin.
“Look at you,” she breathed, her eyes fixed on where he strained against the enchanted silk. “All that power, tied up just for me.” Before he could reply, she shifted her weight, pivoting on her knees. She turned her back to him, presenting the full, pale curve of her ass and the glistening evidence of their joining. She guided him back inside with one hand, sheathing him in one slow, deliberate slide.
A low groan tore from his throat. The view was devastatingly intimate, obscene. He could watch every inch of his length disappear into her, see the slight stretch, the way her body welcomed him. She began to move, a harder, deeper rhythm now, using the leverage of her position to take him ruthlessly. One of her hands reached back between her own legs, fingers slipping to massage his balls, heavy and tight with his need.
“You feel that?” she gasped over her shoulder, driving down onto him. “You’re so deep. I can feel you in my fucking throat.”
Her words were a match to tinder. His hips jerked upward, fighting the bindings, a feral sound escaping his clenched teeth. The sight of her ass slapping against his pelvis, the lewd, wet sounds of their connection, the relentless pressure of her hand—it was too much.
“Come for me,” she demanded, her voice raw and commanding. “Don’t you dare hold back. I want it. I want to feel you fucking explode inside me.”
It was not a request. It was an order, delivered with such fearless authority that it shattered the last of his control. A rough, ragged shout was ripped from him as his climax detonated, a violent, uncontrolled surge. He pumped into her, pulse after hot, savage pulse, his seed flooding her depths as his vision whited out. He emptied himself completely, spasming against her, his body bowed tight against the silken ropes.
She rocked back against him through every last tremor, milking him dry, a soft, triumphant moan escaping her lips as she felt the hot spill within her. Finally, spent, she stilled, her back still to him, her head bowed. The only sounds were their harsh, shared breathing and the soft creak of the bed.
Slowly, she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the mattress, letting him slip from her body. A traitorous trickle of his release followed. She didn’t move to clean it. She simply stayed there, posed before him, a raw and owned tableau.
“Two,” he finally said, his voice utterly ruined.
She glanced back, a sheen of sweat on her spine, a faint, exhausted smile on her lips. “Almost there.” Her eyes held a challenge that was softer now, edged with a vulnerable exhaustion. “Untie me.” It wasn’t a question. It was the next logical step in their dangerous, silent negotiation. She was ready for whatever came after the third.
She did not untie him. Instead, she turned, a slow pivot on the mattress that made the old bed frame groan. She faced him again, her eyes dark pools in the dim light, her cheeks flushed from exertion and victory. Without a word, she lifted herself, positioned the head of his cock at her entrance—already wet with his own release—and sank down onto him with a throaty, satisfied sigh.
“Still so hard,” she murmured, beginning to rock. “Even after all that. It’s like you’re made of stone.”
He said nothing, just watched her, his breathing controlled but shallow. The enchanted silk bit into his wrists as he tested it, a minute, calculated flex. It held. For now.
She established a ruthless, rolling rhythm, her body taking him with a practiced ease that belied the blinding sensitivity she had to be feeling. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, her hair falling around them like a curtain. “You promised me three,” she breathed, her lips brushing his. “Don’t you dare tap out early.”
“I don’t tap out,” he grunted, the words tight.
She increased her pace, her hips slapping against his, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet cabin. Her moans were ragged, unfiltered. “God, yes, right there. Your cock fills me up so perfectly. I can feel every fucking inch.”
Eris could feel the pressure building again, a treacherous tide rising from his balls, coiling up his spine. The sight of her—the sheer, sweaty determination on her face, the way her breasts moved with each desperate thrust—was pushing him relentlessly toward the edge. His jaw tightened. He was close, so close he could taste the metallic hint of release in the back of his throat.
“I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice rough with strain.
“I know,” she gasped, her rhythm becoming frenetic, chasing her own peak. But just as he felt the first irreversible clench of climax begin to gather, she suddenly lifted herself completely off him.
His cock, hard and weeping, slapped against his stomach, denied. A raw, frustrated sound ripped from him.
Lilly didn’t go far. She settled her wet heat directly onto the throbbing head, grinding herself against him in slow, filthy circles. She made no attempt to take him inside. She just used him, rubbing her swollen clit and slick folds over his sensitive crown. The sensation was maddening, a torturous friction that had him bucking his hips uselessly beneath her.
“Oh, fuck, Eris,” she groaned, her head falling back, her eyes squeezed shut. “It feels so good just like this. Your cock is so hot. I just want to rub myself all over it.” Her words were a broken, erotic chant. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”
He could only watch, muscles corded, as she worked herself on him. Her thighs trembled. Her breaths came in sharp, hiccupping pants. Then her whole body seized, a silent, breathless moment of tension before a shattered scream tore from her lungs.
“ERIS!”
Her climax wracked her, violent and consuming. She ground down against him hard, milking the sensation through every pulse, her inner muscles fluttering around nothing, drenching his shaft with a fresh flood of her release. She shook through it, a wild, beautiful thing breaking apart above him.
As the last tremors subsided, she slumped forward, panting against his neck. The scent of sex and sweat was overwhelming. She nuzzled into his skin, her lips moving against his ear. Her whisper was hoarse, triumphant, and laced with a fearful thrill.
“What kind of punishment do I get for not letting you come the third time like I promised?”
For a long, silent moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. The only sound was the ragged draw of their breath. Then, slowly, he turned his head. His mouth was a grim line, his eyes burned with a promise that was no longer just a threat. It was a vow.
Lilly held that gaze for a heartbeat, two. A flicker of real apprehension finally surfaced in her own. She smiled anyway, a shaky, brave thing. Then she climbed off him, her legs unsteady as she found the floor.
She did not look back as she walked, naked and marked, toward the ladder that led down to the main room. She left him there, straining against the silk, throbbing and unsatisfied, the air cooling on his wet skin.
A soft pop sounded from the bedpost as a single, straining thread in the enchanted silk gave way.