The King's Gift Pt. 04

Section 5.6

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Arthur's chambers, painting the room in soft gold. Lindsay stirred beside him, as he came to, Arthur realized she had been watching him sleep.

"You're staring," Arthur murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

"You're worth staring at." She smiled.

Her hand slid down his chest, across his stomach, her fingers tracing the line of hair below his navel. "I've been thinking about yesterday. And what we did in the hotel."

"I really enjoyed it."

"Good." Her fingers found him, already half-hard. "I want to do it again. Right now."

She pushed the sheet aside and lowered her head, her hair spilling across his thighs. Her mouth found him with the same devastating precision as before: lips parting, tongue flat, taking him deep in one smooth motion that made his hips buck involuntarily.

Arthur's hand found her hair, fingers threading through the dark strands of her hair.

She hummed around him, the vibration traveling through his cock and up his spine. She pulled back slowly, dragging her lips along his shaft until only the tip remained, then flicked her tongue across his frenulum before plunging down again. Her rhythm was deliberate, unhurried, as if she had all morning and intended to use every second.

Through the collar he could feel her arousal building. It was driven not by the tease and denial from the chastity thong that had kept her desperate all day yesterday, but by the warmth she felt towards Arthur. Her pace quickened, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked while her hand stroked the base of him, wet sounds filling the quiet room; Arthur's breathing grew ragged, his fingers tightening in her hair.

"I'm close," he warned.

She doubled her efforts instead, her tongue working the ridge of his head in tight circles, her throat opening to take him deeper than before. She swallowed around him as he came, and through the bond he felt her satisfaction spike.

She withdrew slowly, deliberately, her lips glossy. "Good morning, my lord."

Arthur pulled her up and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. "Good morning."

A flicker of something passed through him: guilt, maybe, or the ghost of it; a week ago he could not imagine himself with a pleasure slave and now one had him cuming before he was fully awake. Her skill was eroding whatever resolve he had left. The guilt was quiet and distant, a principle he had read in a book rather than something he actually believed; what he felt, in truth, was satisfaction. He pushed the thought aside and pulled her closer.

She settled against his side, her hand resting on his chest. The chastity garment pressed between her thighs, already resuming its work. Arthur felt the familiar heat begin to build through the bond: the garment's teasing pressure on her clit and her denied arousal creeping back.

"Should I suppress it like I did yesterday?" he asked.

Lindsay was quiet for a moment. "No, my lord. I've grown to enjoy this feeling."

Arthur studied her face. There was no shame in her eyes and no fear, just a quiet, simmering heat that she was choosing to hold onto.

"All right," he said. "But tell me when it's too much."

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. "Of course, my lord."

She settled into the silence, her head on his chest, the garment's pressure a steady pulse between her thighs. The arousal was already curling back, warm and insistent. Without thinking, her hand drifted down her stomach, fingers seeking to relieve the fire burning below. A quick press, a circling touch, anything to take the edge off, but her fingertips met only the smooth, unyielding surface of the chastity fabric, and a soft sound escaped her between a whimper and a sigh before she let her hand fall back to his chest.

"Lindsay, I need to run to chat with my father this morning. I can keep showing you the capital afterwards."

---

The morning council had not yet convened, but Nicholas was already at his desk, a cup of dark tea steaming beside a spread of maps and trade ledgers.

Nicholas looked at Arthur's fingers, "You are wearing the ring. Good. Very good." Nicholas leaned forward, his hands flat on the maps. "Before you sail for Auoni Muir, you will make one stop in Stonebridge."

Arthur frowned. "The island province? It's a day off our route."

"Exactly." Nicholas tapped the map. "The High King's envoys never stop there; it is a mining island, nothing glamorous, but it is in our kingdom, and I want you to practice representing power on that island."

Arthur nodded. "I will alert the captain to prepare the ships and adjust our planned route."

"You will have the captain adjust your journey," Nicholas corrected. "I am not coming."

Arthur looked up sharply. "What?"

"An urgent naval matter has come up and it is more serious than I realized. I will need to handle it before making my way to the Auoni Muir," said Nicholas as he set down his tea. "You will take the ship to Stonebridge, tour the island with Baron Harald, then continue on to Auoni Muir. I will join you within the week."

He reached into a leather satchel and produced a sealed scroll bearing the Myran sea falcon. "Before you go. This is your official appointment. As of this morning, you are the Ambassador of the Myran delegation to the High King's court."

Arthur took the scroll, his thumb running over the wax seal. "I thought Aldric represented our interests there."

"Aldric is the envoy; he manages our interests in Aurum, negotiates, entertains, and smooths over the cracks that appear between Myra's liberal policies and the High King's conservative court." Nicholas's mouth twitched. "He is very good at it, but the delegation can always use a figurehead of noble blood, and that is you."

"You are making me a ceremonial placeholder."

"I am giving you a seat at every table in Auoni Muir. Aldric will do the real work; he will advise you, steer you, and keep you from making mistakes that would take years to undo, but when the High King summons the Myran delegation, it will be you who heads it. When treaties are signed, your name will be on them in my stead. When the other kingdoms gather in the capital, you will be among them as an equal."

Nicholas leaned forward. "Nobody calls Aldric the deputy ambassador except in the most formal ceremonies; in every practical sense he is Myra's voice in the capital, but you are its face. One last thing before you go: you need a physical transformation source."

Arthur blinked, frowning. "Father you know how I feel about this."

"You need a Conduit gifted with physical transformation magic that can power the magical sphere you are attuned to. This is a rare ability, but more common than the life attunement we share. At the capital you will be able to find a Conduit that will allow you to cast powerful physical transformations that your powers themselves cannot supply." Nicholas dipped his quill and began to write. "You have your mother's transformation magic, but you are not supremely gifted in it, and in the capital, among the High King's court, you will be surrounded by your cousins who have been rubbing shoulders since childhood and will need to match them. Your time in the academy will test your abilities and your resolve to survive, and I hope you pass, son, as then your trials will only begin. Your life sphere attunement will certainly result in your deployment leading a front line battalion or armada, and if the rumors are to be believed your services will be needed in a few years. Unfortunately, developing proficiency in life magic takes much longer than the other spheres. With practice you will get there, but I expect you will develop proficiency in physical transformation first even though you feel weakest in that skill-set now. True, life-attuned battle proficiency took years for me. I hope you are faster son, but don't ignore your other gifts."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. "Father I will not own another person."

"I am telling you that you need a source of transformation magic, and how you secure that source is your concern, but I am sending word to Aldric for him to begin the search." Nicholas blotted the letter, folded it, and pressed the Myran seal into the wax. "He will find a suitable conduit before you arrive, or shortly after. You can chew on the consequences of accepting or refusing."

"So you won't mind if I refuse?"

"Then you will enter the Academy as you are." Nicholas set the letter aside and met his son's eyes. "And you will learn very quickly whether your principles can survive the reality of the High King's court and the world in general."

Arthur said nothing, just picked up the ambassadorial scroll and turned it over in his hands.

"Sorry, there is one last thing I want to make sure you know," Nicholas said. "The collar you used to bind Lindsay to you is a royal consort collar, not a traditional conduit collar."

Arthur looked up sharply. "A what?"

"Consort collars are rare; they allow the bound conduit to channel magic for themselves rather than simply supplying a magical user with mana. They are an open secret within the upper nobility, typically used within noble marriages to allow women of high social status to retain their dignity. She could become a mage in her own right, drawing on her own life-source, if she had the training. I told Luthur to give it to you; I did not expect you to want to teach her to be a mage, but I thought it would be good if she could heal you in a pinch."

"Umm, thank you father for thinking of this? I did not expect that."

"I have been thinking about your decision to train her in magic, and if she was wearing a normal conduit collar her education would be more limited to a source of magic external to her own innate attunement, as ordinary collars permanently bind the magic of the Conduit to the one the collar is attuned to. The collar you bound to Lindsay allows her to use her own innate abilities to power her own magic. You will need to decide what she is to you. A slave, a tool, a companion," Nicholas said, his voice even. "Or something more. The collar gives you options. The choice is yours."

Arthur held his father's gaze. "Thank you father."

"I planned for you to have every advantage I could give you." Nicholas picked up his tea. "What you make of them is up to you."

---

Section 5.7

Arthur and Lindsay spent the rest morning exploring the city. Lindsay walked beside him through the market, her hand in his, the arousal building steadily in her core with every step. Her thong's enchantment was subtle but relentless: a constant pressure against her clit, a teasing pulse that intensified with every step, every glance from Arthur, every one of her prurient thoughts, every touch by Arthur.

By midday she was flushed, her breath coming shorter than the warm air warranted. She pressed close to him as they browsed a spice stall, her hip brushing against his thigh.

"My lord," she murmured, her voice low, "I need you."

Arthur led her to a private dining room above a restaurant overlooking the harbor. The moment the door closed behind them, she was on her knees.

She unfastened his trousers with trembling fingers from the need she felt. The magical garment had been tormenting her for hours, constantly stimulating her clitoris. The only relief she could imagine was this: giving him pleasure, feeling his release, taking the edge off her own desperation by feeding his.

She took him in her mouth with a moan of relief, as if this were the release she had been craving. Her tongue worked him with feverish intensity, her hands gripping his thighs, her throat accepting him deeper with each pass. Arthur leaned against the wall, his head falling back, his fingers tangled in her hair.

Her hand slid down between her own thighs. It was a cruel reflex, muscle memory from the House's training which let her touch herself for a client's entertainment. Her fingers met the chastity fabric and pressed against it instinctively, searching for pressure, for friction, for anything. The garment absorbed the touch without yielding, as smooth and unresponsive as glass. She let out a frustrated breath through her nose and gripped his thighs instead, digging her nails in, channeling the denial into the work of her mouth.

Through the bond he felt the shape of her arousal: a sharp, bright need that the garment refused to satisfy. Every touch by her mouth sent a pulse through her body, and every pulse made the fabric tighten, press, and tease. She was caught in a loop of her own making, each stroke of her tongue feeding her desperation.

She took him to the edge and held him there, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand stroking his length, until he came with a groan that seemed to shake the room.

She swallowed every drop, then rested her cheek against his thigh, breathing hard. The collar facilitated a small transfer of energy to Arthur, but it paled in comparison to the last time he had made her orgasm. The garment's pressure was already start to tease Lindsay by frustratingly and slowly sending gentle vibrations through her clitoris.

"Thank you," she whispered.

That evening, in the privacy of his chambers, Arthur parted the chastity fabric with his will and lowered his head between her thighs. She cried out at the first touch of his tongue: from pleasure of finally being touched after hours of denied need. He licked her slowly, still learning the shape of her, the way her hips rolled when he found the right spot, the way her fingers twisted in his hair when he pressed harder. She came with a raw, broken sob, her body arching off the bed, the collar transferring all the released mana directly into Arthur. He could feel his body filling with the released energy from Lindsay buttressing his life sphere abilities. He was full of energy as he still had not used any significant chunk of life mana her frustrations had generated for him.

Afterward, she lay trembling in his arms, her face buried against his neck.

"I had no idea I could ever feel this good," she said.

Arthur held her tighter. On his mind was the realization that he would enjoy being the only one who could give her an orgasm. He reveled in the power of how her pleasure answered to his will.

---

They woke tangled together, and Lindsay's hand found him before her eyes were fully open. She guided him onto his back and straddled his thighs, the chastity fabric a smooth barrier between them.

"I want to feel you inside me," she whispered into his ear.

Arthur's hands found her hips. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

He willed the fabric to part, and it flowed aside like water, revealing her slick and ready. She positioned herself above him, her eyes locked on his, and sank down in one slow, deliberate motion.

They both gasped, a shared sound of surprise and wonder that hung in the air between them.

She was tight, hot, perfect, and as she paused when he was fully seated, her palms flat on his chest and her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, Arthur felt through the bond what she was experiencing: a sharp, bright pain where her hymen gave way, a brief resistance that surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of being filled for the first time, and beneath it all a pleasure that dwarfed everything she had known before. She had taken men in her mouth and had been trained to accept them anally, but this was different in a way she had not anticipated. He was providing a fullness that spread through her body. She felt like she was joining as one with him. She moved slowly at first, her hips rocking in a tentative rhythm that built with each pass, her head falling back and her hair brushing her shoulders as Arthur watched her face: the way her lips parted, the way her eyes fluttered closed, the way pleasure transformed her into something unguarded and real.

He guided her hips, finding a rhythm that made her gasp. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her forehead against his. "Don't stop," she breathed. "Please don't stop."

He drove up into her, meeting each downward roll of her hips, the bond between them singing with shared sensation. Her inner walls clenched around him, her rhythm faltering as she neared the edge.

"Arthur..."

"Let go."

She came with a cry that was half laugh, half sob, her body convulsing around him. The sensation triggered his own release, and he spilled into her with a groan, the collar flooding Arthur with Lindsay's mana.

She collapsed onto his chest, trembling. "That was..."

"More than I imagined," Arthur said, his voice low and rough, his hand tracing the curve of her spine. He felt her smile against his skin before he heard it.

"Can we do it again?"

Arthur laughed, breathless, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Give me a few minutes to recover and I'm yours."

She went in to kiss him him again and he returned her kiss. For a few minutes they kissed back and forth. Then he caught her hips and rolled her over parting her legs. He looked at her, at the way her hair spread across the pillow, at the trust in her eyes, and pushed into her in one slow stroke that made them both groan as her inner walls gripped him. He set a rhythm that was slower than before, deeper, watching her face as he moved, the way her lips parted with each thrust, the way her hands found his back and pulled him closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into the small of his back, and he drove into her harder as he found angle that made felt really good. He could feel her meeting each thrust with a roll of her hips that drew him in deeper. She came with his name on her lips, her body arching beneath him, mana flooding through the collar into his core, and he followed her over the edge a moment later, spilling into her with a shuddering groan before collapsing beside her.

After they recovered they left the palace and spent the rest of the day in a haze of market visits, street food, and stolen moments. In a fabric shop, Lindsay pressed against him in a narrow aisle, her hand sliding down his trousers while the shopkeeper's back was turned. She whispered that the garment was driving her mad, that she needed him again, and Arthur hurried her to a carriage and instructed the driver to take the scenic way to the palace.

Inside the carriage, she knelt between his legs and took him in her mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperation. The carriage jostled over cobblestones, and she used the motion to drive him deeper into her throat until he came down her throat.

"Again," she said. "When we get back."

Back at the palace, he parted the garment and licked her to another shuddering climax, her fingers gripping the silk sheets, her cries muffled against his shoulder so the servants wouldn't hear. Afterward, she lay in his arms, tracing patterns on his chest.

"This is nice," she said quietly. "I enjoy being with you. Thank you Arthur."

---

The morning of the third day, Lindsay woke up quieter beside Arthur.

"What's on your mind?" Arthur asked.

"I want to try something with you... I've done it before, but it was never my choice."

Arthur took her hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Arthur, my lord, they taught me in the art of anal penetration." She met his eyes. "I want to try that with you. It will be important as I continue to supply you with mana in the future.”

He led her to the bed and undressed her slowly, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. When she was bare, he settled her on her stomach, propped on pillows, and traced his fingers down her spine.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

The material teasing and denying her parted for him. He prepared her with oil, his fingers gentle and patient, working her open while she breathed through the familiar sensation. She did not say anything, but she was always ready for anal penetration from her training at the hands of the House of Velvet Whispers.

When she said she was ready, he guided her onto her back, pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. He lifted her legs, hooking her knees over his forearms, opening her fully to him. From this angle he could see everything: her flushed chest, her parted lips, the way her body was already yielding in anticipation. "Ready?"

"Yes."

He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed. The tight ring of muscle gave way with practiced ease: her body knew this, had been taught this, had been shaped for this. He slid into her in one smooth, continuous motion, the heat of her drawing him deep. She let out a long, shuddering breath, her head pressing back into the pillow, but there was no gasp of pain, no clench of resistance. Her body accepted him like the pleasure vessel she had been molded into.

"God, Lindsay," he breathed. "You feel so good and tight."

"Arthur, you feel so good as well too."

He began to move, withdrawing slowly until only the head remained, then pushing back in. The feeling was different from vaginal: tighter, hotter, a friction that gripped him from every angle and yet subsided once he was all the way inside her. He enjoyed how she squeezed him as he pulled out and relaxed to let him in.

She watched him on and off opening her eyes and then closing to enjoy the sensation. Arthur held her legs draped over his arms keeping her body open to him.

He found a steady pace, sliding in and out of her, reading her mental state through the bond connecting her to him. He felt the fullness spreading through her, the pressure building in her lower belly, the way she gripped him on each withdrawal as if trying to keep him inside. He watched himself moving in and out of her, the sight of his shaft disappearing into her, slick with oil, her body accepting him with an ease that sent a thrill through him. Her hips rolled to meet his thrusts, her body working on instinct and training.

She was enjoying this, deeply, but it was not enough to push her over the edge. He began to move in earnest, withdrawing almost to the tip before pushing back in, the slick friction of her gripping him from every angle.

"Harder," she said.

He obeyed, driving deeper, and she moaned, a low, appreciative sound. Still, through the bond, he felt a plateau. Anal alone would not take her there. He reached down between her thighs. His fingers found the chastity fabric and he willed it to part, the smooth surface flowing aside to expose her clit, slick and swollen.

She gasped when the cool air touched her. "Arthur." He pressed his thumb against her, circling slowly in time with his thrusts, and the effect was immediate. Her back arched, her mouth falling open, the plateau suddenly tilting upward. The pleasure now had a target.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, right there..."

He kept the rhythm steady: his hips driving into her, his thumb working her clit in circles. Her inner walls began to flutter around him, her breath turning to short, desperate moans.

“Don't stop," she gasped. "Please, Arthur, please..."

He pressed harder, faster, and she broke. Her orgasm ripped through her, a long, shuddering wave that squeezed him from within, her body arching off the bed, her fingers clawing at the sheets. The bond between them blazed white-hot as the collar flooded him with her mana, the energy pouring into his core in a torrent that left him breathless.

Afterward, she lay limp beneath him, her body still trembling. He stopped and did not continue; content with the results of the last few days.

"That was..." she started. "Awesome." She pressed her face into his chest.

He held her in silence, stroking her hair. The power of that: the trust she placed in him, the control he held over every inch of her pleasure. It stirred something in him that he was not sure he wanted to name.

Later, as they lay together in the afternoon light, Lindsay spoke again. "Arthur, I want to tell you something." She pulled back to look at him. "I like being denied. The way the garment teases me until I can't think of anything but you."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "That's what they trained you to feel."

"I like it. I want you to keep me on the edge and use me when you need to."

Arthur thought about the guilt he had expected to feel and the fact that he had not. He thought about how natural he already felt at commanding her, taking her, and denying her. He enjoyed the hunger in her eyes when she looked at him after hours of teasing.

"I’ll keep it in mind. Lindsay, we have one more day," Arthur said. "Then we sail. I don’t know how often we can do days like this in the future."

"I know." Lindsay laced her fingers through his. "Let's make it count."

Later, she knelt between his thighs and took him in her mouth with a reverence that bordered on worship. He came. She swallowed his load, then curled up beside him, her body thrumming with denied heat.

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "Thank you for using me the way I want to be used."

Arthur pulled the blanket over them and watched her as she fell asleep in his arms.

While asleep, her hand drifted down her stomach, her fingers twitching against the chastity fabric. She made a small, frustrated sound. Her fingertips pressed once, twice, against the smooth surface, as if searching for the sensitive flesh they knew was there. Then her hand fell still, and she shifted closer to him, burrowing against his chest as if his body could give her what she could not.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had told himself he would be different than the other men who used conduits like tools. But Lindsay was asking him to use her the way she had been trained to be denied, controlled, left aching, and used her to power his own magic. Lindsay believed it was her choice, and maybe it was. he wanted to go along with it. He could understand her thoughts from the collar around her throat. He had control of how often and how intensely she was teased and how long she was denied for. He could give her pleasure or withhold it. He was starting to enjoy keeping her on the edge and deciding if, when, and how she came. He was stepping deeper into the system he swore to eschew every day, and the guilt he had expected to feel was growing fainter.