The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

He held up a finger, needing another moment to regain enough poise to answer her without breaking up again. "Yes. Like jewelry," he said, swallowing another laughing fit. "Some find the texture and intensity pleasurable." He sized up the object she'd dropped. "At a glance, I would say that size would be punishment indeed." He did not lack confidence, at least when it came to his size.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara cocked her head at the words regarding punishment, arching a brow. She saw the coy playfulness on his face, and glanced back at the object. She was still wearing his borrowed clothes, which hung comically large on her. The tunic was as long as a knee-length dress, and the silver ring sat in the bowed divot where the fabric swooped between her legs.

She was curious about it... Suddenly her mind was picturing him wearing it around the head off his cock, like a collar. Heat bloomed on her cheeks. She imagined him slipping it on, and then a wave of complicated emotions flashed through her like a scald. She put up the wall again, let the memory bang furiously against it, and didn't let it through. She could do it again, like with the mirage-like memories of the ship—all sound and drug-induced fog. She could pretend things like that hadn't happened, even if the memories were clearer and vivid and right behind the wall...

Tenara felt safe with him—was safe with Havi. Even when they had first met, despite every warning from the universe and the people who loved her, she had felt safe with him. And, it was easy to pretend with Havi. He didn't ask about it. He didn't talk about it unless she mentioned the subject, and going forward she wouldn't. Her body was healed now, and it was easier to pretend nothing had happened when there were no scars or bruises or pain to mark the deeds.

She pushed aside the hesitation, and admired the silver ring again. She'd seen Havi's length enough to know that it would be a snug fit. "Good punishment or bad punishment?" she asked with a bashful smile, flicking her green eyes back to him.

[Soran Nightblade]

He hesitated at the tone of her question and glanced again at the ring. "I... can't say. I haven't had the experience." He suddenly wondered if he'd overfed the furnace, because he felt flushed.

[Emora Deen]

“Oh,” she said, biting her lip and glancing down at the ring. Of course he hadn’t any experience with it. His first experience with sex had been on her bathroom floor. Her cheeks turned absolutely crimson. “I don’t suppose… Would you show me how it works?”

Her heart raced a bit faster, wishing she could pull the request back. What was she doing? What was she asking? Last night they had been seated very much the same way as now while she had shown him her ruined body—

Tenara shut the line of thought down like slamming a door. Her gaze refocused on Havi.

“I mean, if you know how it works…”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi followed her gaze to the part of his body that was currently rebelling against his trousers. "I can try. How hard could it be?" He twitched. "Eh... by that I mean....getting it on." He twitched again. "Not meaning-..."

Flustered, who, him?

All he had to do was show her how it worked. "I'll just... put it on." He adjusted his position on the floor, kneeling and leaning back on his heels so he could unfasten his fly. He freed his erection to the cold air of the room and reached out to carefully pluck the ring pillowed on Tenara's oversized shirt. One look at it in comparison with his palm was enough to clarify that he would not be successful wearing this at the base of the shaft in his current state, but...

He placed the ring against the head of his penis, the sensitive flesh giving slightly as the cool metal pressed over it like a crown. "I think I can squeeze into it, with a bit of pressure." He looked up into Tenara's eyes, checking for approval.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s pulse had quickened and she shifted slightly against the bed as she watched him. He was beautiful, she thought. His gray skin, and blueish hair. She watched him place the silver ring against the head of his cock and her breath stilled.

“If it doesn’t feel good, don’t,” she said, not wanting him to hurt himself. But there was something… something about this that made her heart hammer like a drum.

She kicked off her shoes and tugged the trousers he had loaned her down, lifting her hips so that they slipped down her legs and pooled at her feet, leaving her only in the oversized shirt.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi's breath caught at the sight of her in his shirt, her pale thighs peeking out below the fabric. A throb of excitement went through him and the organ he was attempting to collar. "You are not making this easier, Yurivis," he groaned. The metal felt so strange, both cold and hot against him. He squeezed it over the puckering flesh. He sucked in a curse when it popped over the thick ridge and locked beneath his head. He lifted a hand toward Tenara to reassure her. "It startled me, but it does not hurt," he said before she could worry.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara nodded slowly, her gaze locked on the silver circling his gray skin. She reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers across the head of his cock to the ring, tracing it. “Is this where it goes?” she murmured, her voice heavy in her chest. “Does it feel nice?”

[Soran Nightblade]

His cock twitched with pleasure where she touched him. Thanks to the constriction, an unfamiliar throb accompanied the sensation, like an echo rebounding through him. "It is different," he huffed, a trace of sweat on his brow. "This is one way to wear it. They can also be worn lower... over the entire shaft. Or over the testicles, or both. I think... I would require a different size for that fitting.

He stared at her fingers teasing the sensitive skin. "Does it please you?"

[Emora Deen]

She met his eyes, and nodded. She brushed him lightly for a minute before she drew her hand slowly back. She curled her fingers in the edge of his shirt and drew it up to her belly, parting her legs slightly. Her other hand skimmed the inside of her thighs, brushed lightly against the softness between. She bit her bottom lip, a finger slipping in. Tenara didn’t stop looking at him—couldn’t stop looking. Her breath quickened. “Will you… sit on the bed. Your back against the headboard?”

[Soran Nightblade]

He nodded, fully embroiled by the sight of her touching herself. The back of his mind reminded him of her condition the night before, and her treatment over the past several days. It seemed unlikely she would wish to receive him after all she'd endured, and he'd already prepared himself for the possibility she might not desire him at all. None of that was a reason to refuse her request, so he yielded to instinct and rose to sit on the bed.

His blood pressure spiked as he stood, making his cock throb beneath the ring. He managed to proceed through the sensation, stepping out of his pants and then positioning himself on the bed. He eased back against the headboard, every inch of him exposed to her. The ring gleamed slightly in the lamplight.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara twisted on the bed, drawing her legs up and crawling towards him. She knelt near him, admiring the adornment he wore. She traced her slick finger around the ring, then down the length of him.

Her heart thundered in her chest. How could she explain what she wanted without… without speaking what she didn’t want to think about into the air? So, she didn’t explain. She shifted, swinging her leg over his, straddling him. She drew his stolen shirt up, clutching it at her chest but not taking it off. She held it like a lifeline and took hold of him.

She wasn’t really sure if she was supposed to do this with the ring on, but figured he would stop her if she did something wrong. She placed the head of him against her heat and eased down, feeling the pressure as he swelled against her and slipped in. Her breath hitched, a fluttering moan slipping from her lips.

Tenara’s gaze never left him as she settled slowly down. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him. “I only ever want you,” she said, a tightness in her voice. “Only you.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi held as still as he could, somehow sensing this was a moment that she must feel complete control over. Her kiss pulled a groan from deep inside him and sent his lower half pulsing inside her.

Her words registered in his soul like they could only be from another life, another universe. I only ever want you. Only you.

Only him? But what of her harem? Her husband? Did she really say that? The tone of her voice seemed too real to dismiss the words as a whim of passion.

Ecstasy and guilt chewed at him from opposite ends. A proper Ivis should not be pleased by such words of exclusivity, any more than a proper Yurivis should be saying them. Sharing a Yurivis was a natural part of Service. It was in her best interest to build her prestige and enhance her fertility by increasing her harem. That was what he should have wanted for her. That was what he had thought he wanted for her.

So why did his chest feel like a kettle set over a flame?

"You have me, Yurivis," he breathed, tilting his head slowly to rejoin her lips.

[Emora Deen]

As she kissed him, she took hold of his hands and guided them to her hips and waist, feeling his long fingers curl around her slender, smaller form. She began to rock over him, slow and sultry, feeling the sweet sensation of him sliding out and driving deep. She thought she felt the ring too, and remembering the way it looked on him made her groan. Her breath quickened against his lips as she pressed his hands into her skin.

Words tangled in her chest, a jumble of confessions and requests tumbling over themselves to get out until nothing did but the pleased sound she made every time he struck deep. "If they hear us moaning, does that count as punishment?" she asked, nipping at his jaw, his neck.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi slid his hands worshipfully where she'd permitted them to touch her. She felt so soft beneath his fingertips, so warm and accepting around his throttled cock. Her voice slid into his bones, tugging with it every last thread of resistance or despair. She was perfect.

"Everyone within 10 miles of this room believes I despise sex," he managed to say between barely-withheld gasps of pleasure. "Your moans sound like punishment indeed, but mine will betray us." His voice edged up as her body squeezed torturously around him. He sucked on her tongue to keep himself from groaning. His hips rolled slowly in time with her movements, nearing the edge of his composure.

"You may need... to slow down..." he strained.