Chatper 5: Electric Shock

Disclaimer: This chapter explores domination and submission, drug/alcohol use, and consensual rape roleplay.

The Edge of Power

Not three sex events later, I wake to a soft caress on my wing.

Nah. Not happening.

I roll over and groan, full of self-pity. It's Ruun again.

I reek. I smell, and I'm horribly hungover.

Fuck.

I drag myself to the bathroom and turn the hot water on, leaning against the cold tiled wall. As it cascades over my wings, I press my forehead against the cool and beg the world to simplify.

Still sore about how he left it last time.

I come out dressed. The linen set from the film.

'You abandoned me.'

As soon as I say it, I see what's going on. I shift my weight. 'We're even now. Aren't we.'

That was payback--for how I abandoned him to the healer tribunal.

He leans back on the bed, that cocky, gorgeous smile lights up his eyes. Yeah. Still have it bad for this guy.

'We're not at war, darling,' he says smoothly. 'I'm stuck here for two weeks and I need your help. My Patron and my handler are on a business trip.'

I dig through my memories. Right. He's sticking to the cover story. 'You're on loan again.'

He stands up and takes my hand. 'We were popular. If we do our act, Rat says we're off the table for anyone else. Even at parties--unless we want to join. My Patron paid for my keep this time.'

I study him. This is a nice offer. Don't get me wrong--I love the freedom in a good orgy. But one partner instead of the free-for-all I've been drowning in lately?

Especially if it's Ruun?

'Agreed.'

He lights up. 'Let's go practice.'

We dash down like kids let loose in a candy store. He's more reserved, but I know I'm gonna gorge as much as I can.

By day three, we're ready.

New costumes. Ruun's the dom this time. The whole act is refreshed--tight, slick, hot.

The fae lap it up.

As the main act, it runs longer. Longer tease, longer please.

I have a silver chainmail bikini top and leather everything else. Learned that from Matriarch's character.

Ruun and I clash on stage with wooden swords, beating at each other senseless to the traditional war song. We snarl, taunt, threaten the audience. He wears me down, stroke by stroke, until I'm defeated.

Usually, we get polite claps--amused, restrained.

Then we turn up the volume.

He slams me back, sword clattering to the floor. I stumble. The audience leans in.

Every time.

The act shifts--rougher now, charged. Ruun circles like a predator, one foot between my knees, blade-tip gracing my collarbone. The story's clear: the demon loses. The human wins. It's all theatre, but the fae drink it in like prophecy.

I let my eyes widen, let my body falter. I give them the fall. The collar. The chain.

The gritty song starts again, I've developed a pathological response to that tune--instantly aroused.

Ruun's the same. He grabs my horn--rough, possessive--and the crowd roars.

I fall to my knees. I snarl, bite at his belt. He fists my hair and shoves himself in with no care for grace. My throat spasms. My eyes water.

He's brutal. I choke, gag, claw at his thighs like I'm trying to get away. He growls, diving deeper. The audience is rapt--disgusted, delighted, devouring every second.

It's all an act. None of it's real.

But the fae get worked into a fervour.

My screams of protest cut off as he shoves past my gag reflex.

Aah-Gug. Gug. Gug.

I'm absolutely fine. We're just hamming it up, milking the drama for all it's worth.

Second pose: he yanks my right leg out, just enough to throw me off balance, then fingers me--rough, almost careless.

I shriek in protest. Then whimper. Then moan.

I start to rock on his hand like I can't help it. Like my body's betrayed me.

That's the story we're selling.

By the third position, I'm eager. Willing.

He drills into me hard, unforgiving. I brace myself on the stage and push my hips back into each thrust, chasing it--but he always pulls away just before I can catch it.

The fae eat it up. Palpably aroused by the Story we sell: the demon broken, begging, wanting.

The real payoff: he roars as his load bursts over my back.

He shoves me, discarded on the stage, and the fae leap to their feet, erupting in cheers. The sound of coins, trinkets, and who-knows-what else rains down, tossed by our appreciative admirers.

He bows deeply, full of swagger. I kneel and scramble, collecting the favours thrown our way.

I don't know what they are, but Rat will sort them. He'll vet each one with his spells before he sells them.

The First Spark

After our latest performance, a polite fae waits in the wings.

'My boss has enjoyed your act. He wishes to bring you to his place for the night.'

Neither of us wear collars. It's our choice. A hefty tip two nights ago has bought me a little more freedom, a few more perks. I glance at Ruun. He shakes his head.

'We are honoured, but we are booked for another party tonight. May the Mother grant us another chance to blossom in her sunshine with your Patron.'

We bow low, respectful.

The fae nods. 'He will be disappointed.'

I touch her hand lightly and cite a cafe where she can contact us anonymously. 'Talk to Rat. We're available most evenings for any size party.'

She brightens, her smile a flicker of hope before she turns and walks away.

Gud puts his hands over our shoulders, a satisfied smirk on his face.

We're not at the mercy of his musty ass now. We're earning more for the house each gig.

POP

We materialise in a green room, ready to clean up and prepare for our next performance of the night.

It's been a breathtaking two weeks. By the time Ruun was set to return to Sea, we were both in tears, filled with sadness. Dancing with my beloved, and our energy magic together, every time... it made me fall in love with him all over again. To be honest, I never fell out of it.

Yeah. So I mama beared all over a strange fae's ass when I discovered him fighting with my territory. Just before I hurl him out of the window--well, come on, it's a fae, with wings.

Anyway, the dramatic flying act comes to a close, and Ruun tackles. Again.

The fae? Sea. A fucking 'shifter. The one who watched the troll I might add.

I start wondering just how many times that random dark fae giving me the high has been Sea. I don't easily share, outside of those sex events.

In a fit of jealous fury, I tackle Ruun, shoving him aside. He levitates. Meanwhile, I'm bound by magic, completely helpless.

Sea.

'I'm claiming what's mine,' Sea declares, all smug self-righteousness. 'Ruun's reputation has grown, and mine along with it. Appreciate the gesture, but he's stepping down.'

Ruun casts one glance over his shoulder, sadness. Regret. But he follows Sea. That look--his silent betrayal--drives the knife deeper into my chest

In that moment, I decide I'll lose myself in my work, forget about the ache in my chest. But it seems Rat had something else brewing.

Enter the new Patron vying for my attention--especially now that my reputation's skyrocketing.

The interested party? Grey Eyes. And he's one dirty little fae. I throw myself into this new gig, desperate to scrub the lingering memory of Ruun's touch from my mind.

The catch? It isn't an audition. Someone ratted to Rat about my energy shifting, and Grey Eyes' bought my contract. No say, no choice, just another deal I've been dragged into.

As he pumps his three inch penis into my ass, he suddenly stops, the clinking against the bed post of my copper collar grating on him. 'I hate that thing.'

With a flick of a finger, the collar drops to the mattress.

He returns with something in hand. 'Give me your wrist.'

I hold it out, curiosity piqued. A gold bracelet snaps shut around my wrist, locked by magic. A new tag with his name and his home address. I feel pride blossom over the precious metal upgrade.

He lies back, closing his eyes, hands propped behind his head. 'Make it worth my while.'

I can't sit on him, I'd snap him in half. I straddle him and squat down. I stroke his flagging shaft with my fingers until it bobs up, ready to say hello.

He hasn't washed. I don't like dirty sex. I pop him back into my ass and hunker down.

I circle my hips, his eyes locked on my pussy as I gyrate. Oh gods, this is nice. A rimming and a deep leg workout. My thighs begin to burn as I do shallow squats.

He smiles, clearly pleased.

I shift my hips, adding small circles with each squat to change the angle. His expression shifts to pure relaxation, like he's getting a bloody massage. My thighs scream in protest, but then I feel it--his energy shifting, growing darker, heavier. He's close.

I pump his shaft with my fingers, catching his lilac cum.

Yeah. I see the point. I'll do a lot for a good buzz these days.

He opens his eyes, watching. 'Why do you drink it?'

My lips tingle already, the short buzz taking effect. 'It makes me feel good.'

He studies me. 'Why?'

I shrug, careless with my words. 'Dark fae just do.'

No such thing as a free ride. Especially not with this fae. But that comes later.

Amp It Up

The next night, he opens the balcony door. 'Go on. Have a flight. See how far you can get.'

He pauses. 'My safe word's poverty.'

Of course it is.

He knows mine. It's in our contract.

I don't hesitate--just leap blindly into the night, straining for altitude. I scan for shadowy patches beyond the city, looking for cover. For a moment, I forget I'm supposed to run. The air washes over my face. The stars above. This feeling. For a moment, I forget where I am.

I find darkness. Trees. Victory shivers through me as I skim the pines, brushing the tallest branch with my fingertips.

Then--impact.

Something hits me from the side. No time. I'm falling. A weight crushes one wing. Tree limbs whip my body as we plummet.

Magic slows the landing. I smell gravy. My breath knocks out on impact. Not hurt. Just stunned.

He pounces.

Something jumps on my chest, pinning me. I can't move. The spell has me.

It's a moonless night, and I can't see. But the scent of gravy tells me I'm safe. Grey Eyes. Of course. But I don't break the fantasy.

He kneels on my chest, attempting a growl. Hot breath hits my face. He's dry humping my boob.

'I caught you. You're mine. Take it.'

Did I mention that Grey Eyes likes to roleplay? Particularly fond of this scenario. I won't say the word--I'm no victim here.

I take his cock, sucking hard. Bite, just how he likes it.

He hunted me like a wild thing. So I play the part.

He gasps as I work him. I mean, really. Candy store. Unlimited budget.

He screws my face as he pumps away. I make half-hearted protests--not enough to dislodge him.

But I do my due diligence. He's earned this, even by demon standards. I can get into it.

He pulls out just before the climax. Struggling to hold back.

He levitates me, strips my pants.

Grey Eyes has a real thing for my bud. I clench around nothing, making it tight for him. He likes resistance. Grabs my ass, hard. I wince. That'll bruise.

He goes feral. A rabid ferret, claiming his prize. His guttural scream slits the night. I try not to laugh. A chipmunk commando on a nut rampage.

I moan--frustrated--he's stolen my high this round.

A few weeks later, he changes things up.

Black linen shirt. Fairy cake. Silent offering.

I wash it down with his highball. 'What would you like tonight, Sir?' Knowing the fantasy is part of the fun.

He just grins. 'Give me fifteen minutes.' And leaps off the balcony.

My crotch burns. I tear my pants off, watching with fascination as my innie becomes an outie. Fae-friendly, of course.

Hot Damn. I'm the hunter tonight.

Grey Eyes still hasn't figured out I'm an empath. I like to toy with him anyway.

I grab a few things, wait long enough, then take off after him.

The wind shifts. Gravy. I've got the trail.

I triangulate. Scent and emotion. Not many dark groves feel... afraid.

Terror sharpens the flavour. Delicious.

The tight orchard's a good choice. Anticipation--three o'clock. I dive low, wings tucked in, branches close.

I chuck a green fruit from above. Land a few rows away.

He screams. Flashlight flares. I shield my eyes--older brother taught me that one.

I pop up, lob a dirt clod, roll behind a wall. He screams again--lust edging the fear now. I grin. I'm venting my frustrations on him, and he's loving every second.

He moves the wrong way. I sneak up behind.

'Boo.'

I drop a lasso around his chest--new model, rebounds magic.

His face is priceless. I reel him in, teeth bared.

I scent him. Fear. Sweat. Arousal. He smells like pre-cum and victory.

'Well, well. What to do with you now?'

It's a real question. He hasn't given me his boundaries tonight.

'I... I... don't hurt me.' He's so hard. His body betrays him.

I trail a talon lightly along his throat, slow enough to feel the beat of his pulse. My breath warms his cheek as I lean in. He doesn't flinch, but I feel the tremor running through him. His desire coils around his fear like silk.

I tilt his chin up with two claws and press a soft kiss to his lips--barely there, reverent, testing.

'You've been kind to me,' I murmur, letting the words brush against his skin. 'I will return the favour. But first--tell me what you want. Why the gift? What do you seek?'

He's still trembling. He knows I'm toying with him. He likes that I'm toying with him.

'Use me,' he whispers, breathless, almost reverent.

Of course. Fae.

Gods-damned kinky to their core. One of the few reasons this realm isn't completely unbearable.

I bear my teeth. 'Then hold still.'

I scent his want again. Sense his raging arousal. His need. Still willing. Good.

Tonight, I'l take him apart slowly.

Plugged in

I flick my talon. His pants drop. Maybe these claws are good for something.

His cute little spike of happiness springs up to attention.

I place him face-first on top of the stone wall, gently. I'll still have to squat--but it's doable. I pause, listening to the mess inside him--shame and want all tangled up tight.

I coat my fingers slowly, deliberately, letting the lube drip between them as I watch his back tense.

'You had rules,' I murmur, pressing my pinky in. 'You should've told me them.'

He gasps, half arching. His wings open wide as I begin. I twist my pinky around, slow and unhurried, punishing the tight clench of his sphincter. He pulls in tighter, fighting the pressure.

Not anymore.

'Too late now. Mine are simple: you tell me before you come. Every drop belongs to me. Acknowledge you understand.'

His wings begin to relax in time with his hole. 'Yes,' he whispers, the word caught in a breathless shiver as I pull out.

Just for fun, I slide my ring finger in too--no resistance. I pause, listening as I work his hole. The spike of shame hits first, sharp and sour. But beneath it? A low, molten throb of need, thick and heavy, growing as I test him.

Good.

He's finally getting it.

And now I know he's trained--he can handle the girth of my cake-dick.

Now for some fun--let's see what this dick's really made of.

I press the head of my cock against his ass, rubbing it around the rim, slow and teasing as I lube myself up.

'Beg for it,' I murmur, the command dripping from my tongue like a promise.

Holy fuck this dick feels amazing.

It's not just the sensation. It's the control, the weight of him beneath me. I can make him beg--I will make him beg.

His head drops, a desperate breath escaping. 'Please.'

There's no shame in his voice--only the burn of desire, thick and urgent.

'Please, fuck me raw. Use me for your pleasure. I'm begging,' he gasps, his words dripping with the kind of surrender that only deepens the power I have over him.

I run my hand up and down my shaft, gauging the width. The cake is designed specifically for his fetish. I'm not the typical size for a demon male, but I'm huge for a fae.

Confident, I press forward, slowly pushing the head in.

Oh gods, this feels fucking amazing. The heat of him wrapped around me is intoxicating, the way he surrenders so completely.

And then, for a split second, I'm struck with a sudden case of... penis envy?

Fuck, maybe I could get used to this.

I lose control almost immediately, the easy pleasure coursing through me as I pound into him. It's been a while since I was a male in charge, and damn, this feels good.

Grey Eyes gasps, his breath ragged and uneven as the force of my thrust pushes him against the wall. His wings flutter, trembling beneath the pressure of my control, the tips brushing against my arms with each harsh movement. But he doesn't call out his safe word.

I ride his ass quickly, my hips snapping against his in a rhythmic, instinctual motion. His silence begins to irritate me.

I chuckle, watching the burn of humiliation flare across his face. It only fuels his excitement, a sharp contrast that makes the whole thing more delicious.

'Tell me how good this feels,' I murmur, my voice low and mocking.

I thrust, feeling the rush as I sink deep, my balls slapping against his skin before pulling back to the head and slamming back into him.

'F-fuck, it feels... good,' he says, his voice jumps with each hip thrust. The humiliation burns brightly, deepened by his anticipation.

He's holding back, something buried deep inside him--something he doesn't want to give up.

'If you're not giving yourself completely, then forget it,' I murmur, my tone cold and commanding. 'I want you to open your heart to me. Share.'

I stop suddenly, pulling out and stepping back. He needs space to process something. He still trembles, his breath sharp and quick. I watch him struggle--he's on the edge.

This is the moment.

I think he needs this, too.

'Tell me,' I say. 'Out loud.'

He looks over his shoulder at me, pupils dilated, his mouth open. His body tenses up as he pushes up.

I lift my foot, pressing down on his back. Just enough force to remind him: there's no escape. 'Don't even think of getting up.'

His pink eye catches my gaze. Gods, I want to fuck him right now.

Watching him struggle, fighting it, I cheer him on quietly in my head. He needs this. And I'm the one who cracked him open. He'll never forget who showed him what he wants.

I can see it--the hesitation, the shame. The weight of his control, of his carefully crafted world. I have no idea what he does yet. His gaze never leaves mine.

'Say it.'

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he won't. But then, with a shuddering breath, he speaks.

'I... I need this,' he whispers, his voice hoarse, unsure. 'I need to surrender.'

I lift my boot, standing again. I massage his back with my hands as I rub myself against his bare backside. My hands slip over his shoulders. 'And what else?' I ask, my voice soft but demanding. 'What else do you need?'

He hesitates, the weight palpable in his emotional storm. But then he exhales as I ease myself back in. His shoulders relax as I slowly explore the full length of this cake-dick.

'I've never been like this before,' he confesses, his words slow and uncertain. 'But... with you, I--' His breath hitches. His wings flutter as his head hangs, the weight of it all pulling him in deeper. 'I need to give in. I need to be yours.'

His confession--his surrender--is a release, not just for him but for me too. The weight of his words lift something in my chest.

But the shift in his emotions that strikes me most--his shame disappears, replaced by his acceptance.

I'm so proud of him. I reward him by reaming his ass like there's no tomorrow.

I feel every part of him surrender to me, just as I surrender to him.

High Voltage

'Close,' he squeals, squirming under me.

I pull back, lift his hips high as I kneel, then clamp onto his dick and suck--hard, teeth and al, just how he likes it.

He grunts. His voice catches. 'Pan. Aw, fuck!' He tries to hump my mouth upside down.

When his tiny ropes end, I suck long and hard, lips right around his lolly, then pull off with a loud pop.

His hot, sweet burst spreads across my tongue before I swallow. I drop him down with a sigh, annoyed at the timing. I was so close.

But I have to follow the rules I set. That's the promise--I'm the dom.

I look at his sore ass. Swollen. Engorged. Raw. I've come, I've gone... but I kept working him with my fingers until I was hard again.

He's lapped it up--every torturous stroke.

Maybe it's time he got a taste of his own medicine.

I step over the wall, balls swinging--full of mystical, magical cake-jizz.

I kneel down, sealing my lips to his, invading his mouth with my spunk-covered tongue. He gags, then wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me in as he leans into the kiss. I suck on his tongue, swallowing every drop of his juice before winding it up.

I use a spelled cloth to wipe the cake-dick clean, and his gaze locks on my stiff rod. He licks his lips.

'Open.'

He obeys, his eyes flicking to my face for just a moment.

I smile, stepping forward. 'Suck me until my balls are dry.' I can't remember exactly how he put it. But close enough.

He takes me in, and I slide deep. Holy gods. His ass was tight, slippery from the lube. But the heat--the tension--when his tongue rims my head... my knees nearly give out.

I tease his lips with my head a few times, gasping from the sensations. I've got serious penis envy now. I have to fight the urge to shove it all the way to my balls. His mouth is small, and I don't know what he can handle.

It wouldn't be smart to choke my Patron.

I thrust carefully, slowly. A moan escapes me as he sucks, licking furiously with fluttering motions.

I push as far back as I dare, and he gags, nearly loses it. The spike of panic informs me to stop. I grip my shaft to mark his limit, then start riding his face.

'No teeth.'

He nods furiously while working my shaft. Oh, my toes curl. 'Do that again.' I command as I thrust.

Puzzlement fills his eyes before he sucks and wiggles his head again, shaking it back and forth like a dog with a toy.

'Oh, gods!' I pump to my fingers again and again, my balls slapping his chin with each thrust.

His lust spikes as I continue. His head wobbles and wiggles, and I start to lose my vision.

I squeeze the cake-dick hard, struggling to breathe. Then flashes of light explode in my eyes. I push hard against his mouth, squeezing my shaft as my balls unload, rope after rope deep in his throat.

Finally, I remember to breathe. My wings droop, and languid relaxation takes over. I kneel, sitting back on the ground. My heart beat thunders in my ears.

'Is that what a guy's orgasm is like?'

Sign me up. Like repeatedly. Fuck!

He's propped on top of the wall, his hand pressed to his mouth. I return to the world, listening to him lick his palm.

I feel dopey. Exhausted. Wiped out. A nap sounds amazing.

I kiss his shoulder. 'You did good tonight.'

The pleased glance he throws me says it all.

Then his load hits--concentrated and dizzying. I'm not even sure how we got home.

Discharged

I lie in the dark bedroom.

Grey Eyes sleeps curled against me, his back to my chest.

Sleep eludes me

I lament the loss of my cake-dick.

I don't even get to masterbate my way into sleep like guys do.

I can't wait to take the cake for him again. Gods, even for myself--and a free afternoon.

Tonight, he followed my rules perfectly. I rewarded him. Let him try whatever that cake-dick exploded.

Chocolate syrup?

Sugar-coated jizz?

He lapped it up as desperately as I drink his down.

His mouth hung open when it hit. Giggles tumbled out of him as he dangled there, naked and exposed on the stone wall. His body slick with sweat, steaming in the cool night air.

His pupils: pin points.

Did he crack?

I sat on the ground, working the rope through his belt loops. A quick bow to hold up his pants. I glanced up, mock-apologetic.

'Pardon me for my impertinence. I don't know how to sew.'

His laughter stuttered into stillness as he slid down the wall to sit beside me. He leaned in, head heavy on my shoulder.

My client, soaring. On my jizz.

That was new.

'We make quite the duo,' he muttered.

I wrapped an arm around him and sent a thread of Sense through his body. I winced--and then poured energy into him. Gentle, whole. Not abused. Just... healed.

He shivered and burrowed closer. I hoped he wouldn't remember this part in the morning.

His emotions: settled.

His body: calm.

He didn't even know what he needed. But I gave it to him.

Now, in bed, something strange prickles inside my chest. I want more.

Not just the sex. Not even the power. This intimacy.

This connection that goes beyond the physical.

Our souls made love tonight. Even if I fucked him raw.

Control, yes.

But nurturing. I shiver.

Intoxicating.

I need more.