Authoress' Notes: Again, though the idea is "pleasure slave," the rating will not match the concept. Meaning that I might lead you to the bedroom, but the door is going to be slammed in your face. I don't do lemon/lime/smut/etc. I will boost the rating if I feel like it is toeing the line a bit too much. So, that being expressed, for those looking for a quick fix sex fic, this is not it. ^^
Big thanks goes out to my beta who was kind enough to actually volunteer for the job of putting up with my raw writing and editing it into something legible. Give a round of applause to Rad!
Hitomi Kanzaki sighed wearily as she shut the door to her personal sitting room and kicked off her flats. Reaching up to massage her temples with the tips of her fingers, the young woman pushed off the door and slowly made her way to the entrance to her bed chamber.
It was approaching two in the morning by the grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room. A worn-out smile crossed her lips. Today, or rather yesterday, had been her birthday celebration.
The night, though fun, had been mentally trying and physically exhausting. She wouldn't trade her friends for the world, but it was something about when they all came under one roof that led to too much drinking, scandalous flirtations, and flying cake. Thankfully, the Aston sisters decided not to stay over, taking their respective male counterparts with them. The servants, who were more of guests than workers that night, had retired long before the sisters' departure.
Nudging the door open, she kicked it shut and winced as the sound spiked up her throbbing headache. The lighting spell for her room lit enough candles to give the space a low, intimate glow. It wasn't her normal bright and cheerful atmosphere, but then again her brain wasn't usually holding a civil war in her skull.
Muttering, the woman dropped down to the bench in front of her vanity. Putting her elbows on the top, she ran her hands through her short blonde hair and leaned her head into her palms. Taking in several long breaths, Hitomi chuckled softly.
She had been pleasantly surprised at the choice of presents from her friends. Unlike the years past, there was no need to flee the room in utter embarrassment or beat Milernia with a pillow, praying it would make her brain function like a proper young lady's should.
Shaking her head slightly, she sat up straight, and grabbed her brush. Counting the strokes that worked her hair into a smooth shiny texture; her smile grew when her eyes landed on the small petal-pink pendant that hung around her neck from a slim gold chain. Milernia had been drunk on pride when she presented it to her after everyone else left, declaring it had come from the depths of the royal vault, and had no equal.
Placing her brush down, the blonde fingered the tiny jewel and rose to her feet. Turning to grab her nightgown from her bed, the woman froze as she locked gaze with another set of eyes.
An unknown and half-dressed man was calmly progressing toward her. His movements were catlike, being both graceful and with purpose. Any light from the candles appeared to flow around him, giving him shadows across his smooth skin and emphasizing the muscles of his chest and stomach. His hands were at his sides, flexing as if he was prepared to attack like an animal. His head was slightly lowered, causing his thick black bangs to frame his intense, focused crimson eyes.
Everything about him screamed for her to run, to call for a servant but her feet were planted firmly and her throat was so tightened with panic that no noise could escape. When his mouth kicked up on one side, gifting her with a hint of a smirk, she felt a cold finger of fear trace her spine.
He wasn't just walking to her, he was stalking her.
She now knew how a sheep felt when a wolf was about to lunge.
The stranger paused a few feet from her, drew to his full height, and tilted his chin up. Though he was taller than her by several inches, it was the intensity and power rolling off of him in invisible waves that left her feeling helpless and small. As he reached a hand out, she started to visibly tremble, but her stubborn will did not permit her to close her eyes.
His fingers ghosted across her features in steady, measured motions. Hitomi could feel the warmth but not actual skin as he let his fingers trace the side of her cheek and down her neck. The fiery eyes followed his hand, studying her every reaction to the harmless gesture. As his gaze trailed her throat, his posture stiffened.
Narrowing his eyes, the man tilted his head forward again and let a low growl rumble in his chest as he curled his upper lip back slightly to bare his teeth.
The sound was enough to snap the blonde out of her terror-induced trance.
"Armand!" the woman screeched forgetting the drunken, slumbering state of her steward and shoved against the stranger's chest with all her strength. Caught off guard, the male stumbled backward, allowing enough room for her to bolt for the door.
As her hands grazed the metal latch, Hitomi found her world spinning as she was grabbed on the shoulder, and whirled around, a heartbeat later she hit the back of the door so hard her teeth clacked together.
His hands slammed on the door on either side of her head before she could take her next breath. Gulping, she stared blindly waited for her vision to correct itself from the burst of white stars.
What she found was a pair of intense, simmering ruby-colored eyes merely a hands breath away from her face. There were dark streaks of crimson with spikes of orange and yellow in the eyes; their tapering was entrancing to her somehow.
As he moved back marginally, she sucked in a lungful of air, fully intent on getting Armand or making the man in front of her go deaf, either would suffice. She opened her mouth to shriek, but found her throat and tongue unwilling to work with her brain's command.
One black eyebrow rose smoothly up in question at her silent frustration.
At least she could identify him to the authorities when (if) she escaped whatever he was planning to do with or to her. With this resolve she set out to study every detail of the intruder's face.
His skin was sun darkened and smooth from scars or freckles. A nicely shaped nose led her to his lips that were pulled into a line of anger and set above a strong, stubborn jaw. Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally notice the blood red teardrop jewel laced on a thick leather cord—just like hers, the one that –
"Milernia," Hitomi hissed, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper. When her green eyes returned to his fiery gaze she had a half-formed suspicion about how this stranger bypassed all the wards, dogs, and servants.
At the name, the male pulled back enough to give her another smirk before he reached into his back pocket, fished out a nicely folded note, and handed it to the shaken woman. Slowly taking it from his hand, she felt her anger flicker to life as she read her name neatly penned across the outside.
Volleying her eyes from the letter to the man, she swallowed thickly and jumped a hair when he returned his hand to its previous position, trapping her once more.
It occurred to me that this, your six and twentieth birthday, called for an extra special gift on my part. Since you spent so much time studying while at school, I realized that you had no hands-on lessons of the male anatomy and thought you might appreciate gaining such knowledge. One day, dear friend, you will finally marry and you do not want to disappoint the man (or money) you love!
As to the male who is currently with you, he is what the traders call a stallion, here to satisfy every curiosity and physical need. He is rather handsome, is he not? Very quiet though.
Don't worry about him being overly naughty in ways you do not wish. You might notice the necklace he is wearing is similar to yours. Yes, they are a pair. As long as you two wear your respective necklaces, he cannot hurt you in any way. It is much better than those awful tattoos and gaudy, clunky bracelets!
Anyway, do have fun.
Milernia S. Aston'
Hitomi felt blood rush to her face in anger or mortification, it didn't matter. The blonde trickster was going to pay dearly for this fiasco! To think that she, Hitomi Kanzaki, sole owner and mistress of Terra Manor would need a—a—pleasure slave!
Fisting the paper in a hand, the angered blonde glared at the male. Fear evaporated in favor of fury since she now knew he wouldn't or couldn't hurt her. Armed with this knowledge she straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back.
Under her new state of mind, she rallied her frayed nerves, and made sure her voice was firm.
"Now see here, Mister—mister," she quickly reviewed the letter again, "Stallion, I know what you are for but I am not the type of lady who needs your—your," she floundered, cheeks darkening, "Talents."
He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't understand, and Hitomi internally groaned. Leave it to Milernia to pick a male who didn't understand the common language. Nibbling on her lower lip absently, she tried to think of a way to explain to the stranger and failed to notice his renewed sly smile.
It wasn't until the "guest" leaned in and she felt his nose softly brush her cheek that she came back to herself. Hitomi quickly put both of her hands on his chest and pushed, trying to get him to back up. Apparently some tricks only worked once on this male as he clucked his tongue in disapproval and refused to be moved.
His lips trailed lightly across her cheek and though she couldn't feel his skin, his warm breath on her flesh had her fingers curling against his bare chest. The stallion paused at the curve of her jaw turned his head slightly so that the tip of his nose brushed her ear. He ghosted down the side of her neck and up again, inhaling her scent.
For some unexplained reason, the blonde found her resolve crumbling like a sand castle at high tide. It did not help her state of shock when the man leaned in further, bracing himself on his forearms as he continued his airy attentions to her surprisingly sensitive neck.
"Uh, uhm, y-you—I, no—"
Her words came up short when he delicately nipped her skin. Grazing his teeth across her flesh, the stallion gave a quick lick to the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder before he bit down. Goosebumps erupted over her exposed arms, her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, unconsciously rearing up on the balls of her feet and pushing herself against his chest. Slipping one hand on her back, the male pressed her more firmly to him, their stomachs flat together.
The black haired male repeated the motions a few times with his mouth, taking great care not to break skin but to leave faint marks each time. She felt rather than saw him grin against her jaw before he withdrew.
Resting his forehead against hers, his eyes flickered with amusement by her reaction to such a simple gesture. With large emerald eyes, the woman blinked up at him, her hands still curled on his chest. The late hour, that's what she'd blame, that and the many hours before it of entertaining, spiked punch, and too much cake.
As she licked her suddenly dry lips, the male's eyes brightened considerably as he watched her tongue. Locking gazes with her once more, whatever was starting to build between them was crushed like a bug when the slave gave her a smug grin.
The arrogance was a cold slap of reality.
Pinching her lips together, Hitomi jerked her hands off his chest as if he was lava, fisted her hands, and straightened her arms to her sides.
She was a lady. Even if having a slave of this frivolous nature was considered a sign of elite social status and perfectly acceptable, the young woman wanted nothing of it. Especially when he was wearing an egotistical expression!
As she clenched her teeth together, she gave him a hot, furious look and commanded in a low, deadly tone, "Let. Me. Go."
In a heartbeat, the male removed his hands and stepped away, but the arrogant air remained.
She was going to murder Milernia.
His ears were still ringing with the shrillness of her threats and various accusations an hour after the strange blonde woman had fallen asleep. It was more exhaustion that quieted her down than acceptance of him being in her bed chambers.
The stallion was cross-legged on the plush fainting couch his new owner, Hitomi, had prepared for him after she lost the game of eject-the-male-from-the-room. She'd muttered under her breath while preparing his bed about the various things she intended to do and tell his previous owner, Milernia.
Even as he lounged on the make-shift bed, staring at the lump in the large bed across the room, he grunted at the memory of the blonde princess.
Milernia had paid for him and was overly proud about it. Like a piece of jewelry she showed him off to her sisters by having him kept on a large, velvet pillow in the corner of her sitting room. Her sisters had been a bit mortified about the idea of a stallion being a gift, until they inspected him.
The middle one, Eries, had the audacity to want to 'test him out.' Though he smirked and teased her with his expressions and tongue, on the inside he was foaming at the mouth and snarling like an injured beast.
Thankfully, Milernia had declared him off limits to everyone.
It was over tea that they had given him the nickname. When they giggled and tried to lure him over with offerings of finger sandwiches, calling him Rowdy. He had feigned ignorance and stayed on the pillow, cross armed, and intently studying them.
They had named him because they believed him an unnamed and wild creature.
But, oh, he had a name.
It was a real name given to him by his father at birth.
However, there was no reason to let such foolish women ever know it. For one of his race to be called by their given names, would allow complete power over them. The humans had enough of his freedom without claiming his magick.
The eldest one judged him too simple or stupid.
The middle one commented that words were overrated when dealing with a pleasure slave.
The youngest one, his temporary owner, only laughed and carried on about what a great surprise it would be for his new owner.
Shaking his head, clearing his mind of the three idiots, he refocused on the current blonde lump to who he was bound. He had fallen asleep in the palace, drugged he realized now, into such a deep slumber that he didn't wake up until he felt his magick snap angrily in protection at the nearness of another.
Jarring himself awake, he found Milernia smiling slyly over him. Sluggishly he pushed himself into a sitting position, and noticed that he was no longer in the frilly, pink-drenched chambers of the palace but on a lavish bed in a new place. Instead, the room was a mute cream with yellow and browns for coordination and color. The smell was that of wild flowers, mainly honeysuckle, and not as overwhelming as the perfume the royal brats seemed to bathe in.
"You be a good boy to her, Rowdy," the princess had instructed. "I've collared you and you'll be all hers tonight. Don't disappoint me." She then instructed him about the letter she had slipped in his back pocket while he was out, before she winked, turned on her heels, and left.
He had read the letter as soon as she clicked the door shut and only snorted before refolding it and shoving it back in his pocket.
Unconsciously, a hand reached to the pendant around his neck. Collared indeed. The humans were getting better, more discreet with their manufactured magic. He had tested his restraint while alone in the room and found it both alarming and aggravating. The blasted jewel would absorb and reflect any power he used back into his body. It was the equivalent to sucker punching himself in the gut while rendering him immobile.
Just when he was about to start ripping the room apart in anger and boredom, she had shown up. Not sure of just who was going to enter, he had quickly positioned himself in the bed where he was left.
As she sat down, totally oblivious to his presence, he figured she was as dim-witted as her friends. From his spot across the room, he had an unobstructed view of her face as it was reflected in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
Short hair was a strange sight on any female, human or Other, but the short locks made her neck appear longer. Golden blonde hair added warmth to her ivory skin. Her lips were a dusty rose hue and caught his attention when she smiled. The dress hid the figure, but he doubted it would remain a secret for very long.
It was only when the woman rose from her seat, turned, and caught sight of him that he became aware that he was drawing closer to her.
The sharp scent of fear hit his nose, and in an already agitated state, he decided to play with this girl. Large, green eyes followed his every movement; he could practically hear her heart pound against her chest. When he was within arm's reach of her, he stopped. His magick spiked and rolled along his spirit, begging to expand and to explore and evaluate to determine if this human was a threat.
With his natural talents on a short leash, he reached out to her physically, causing her to start shaking, and moved his fingers close enough to let his core magick search but never touch her skin. He watched as various shades of her aura spiked and brushed like a cat along his magick.
Bright white, hot stings of pain, like a million needles of fire; the magick pierced his body and burrowed down into his very core. His probing magic had curled back into him, exploding like cannonball, causing his grip on his senses to falter.
Helplessness washed over him, causing him to snarl in anger at the idea of being at someone else's mercy. Particularly when it was a human girl, and by all inspection was found to be weak and harmless. It was in the stunned state when she had been able to push him away and had shrieked out a name.
The shove had woken up his body and with an angry lunge, he had caught her, twisted her around and pinned her to the door. Encaging her with his arms on either side of her body, he waited for her to strike out again. He clenched his jaw, awaiting the pain, but when all she did was stare dumbly back at him, he moved back a hair.
His eyebrow hiked up at her silence and the pendant dangling around her neck. Digesting what he knew of the one he wore and what was written in the letter, he concluded it was the magic and not the girl that had shocked him.
"Milernia," she'd hissed, eyes locked on his neck.
Smirking, he reached to his back pocket and handed over the letter. Uncertain, the girl took it from him and made a quick read of it. Her face, which had been pale, colored to a bright red as she jerked the letter down to glare at him. She sucked in a breath, straightened and stiffened her upper body as if preparing to fight.
It was an interesting reaction.
Her declaration of not wanting or needing his 'talents' had him curious. Cautiously, making sure not to get another whiplash reaction, he caressed his aura against hers. Both of the pendants preened, as if sharing a joyous reunion. It was something not visible to the human eye and left him even more curious.
Gingerly he cleared away different aspects of her aura; he focused on a certain line, the one directly connected to the wellbeing of the body, and lightly stroked it with his power. It shivered and brightened to a pure, healthy white.
He smiled darkly as the truth blared before him. So this woman, this little girl, was a virgin.
Oh, how could he resist teasing the little virgin, even if just a little? It would be intriguing to discover her level of innocence in experiences of physical pleasure.
Deciding to only use his proximity and soft touches provided by his mouth, he closed the gap between them. When she touched him, he thought it was for acceptance, but instead she tried to push him off of her again. He clucked his tongue as a sound of amusement, continuing to his intended target of her neck.
Her long fingers curled against his bare chest, scrapping his skin lightly and stirring his interest further. She smelled of honeysuckle, something he had not had the privilege of indulging in for months since being captured. As she leaned into his body, he lowered himself to his forearms, leaving little space between them.
Though she reacted, she did not return any of his suggestive touches, leaving him to believe she was either extremely docile or naïve to pleasure.
As she started to come back to herself, mumbling a half formed thought, he nipped her. When the magic didn't pulse against him, he tasted her skin. It was free from the chemical perfumes humans so adored and with his instincts slowly rousing, he bit down at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. As she gasped for breath and her body pressed against his, he slipped a hand behind her, strongly holding her to him.
As he continued to manipulate her reactions with his teeth and tongue, he grinned. If this was his owner, the woman he would have to win his freedom from, it was not going to take him very long. He left her neck, reddened and slightly moist, and put his forehead to hers.
Her scent had shifted from fear to anger and now was a mix of apprehension and want. She stared up at him, emerald eyes hazed over from such simple attentions. He felt his instincts purr with desire when she poked her tongue out just so she could wet her lips. An innocent seduction, one she probably wasn't even aware of as alluring, and that made his sly smile deepen.
Suddenly, her eyes focused, her mouth thinned into a straight lined and her hands dropped from his skin. The clack of her teeth was followed by an insanely enraged glare.
"Let. Me. Go."
He felt the magic spike and stepped away before it could paralyze him once more. It was after that encounter that the blonde groused and growled about the impropriety of her friend's decisions while trying to accost him from her personal chambers.
She had thrown both words and things at him, which he ignored and easily dodged. This woman, Hitomi, he believed, was a curious creature.
Instead of calling for the magic of the pendant to force him from her presence or even scream for someone to remove him, she resigned herself to his being there after muttering about her 'useless, alcohol-soaked subordinates.' Thus the bed was made, she was asleep, and he was watching her.
With silent steps, he approached her slumbering form. The magic allowing his vaguely elevated magick to slide easily over her, and lacked the violent reaction of earlier. Another mystery.
As he stood within two feet of her form, he pondered the limit of the magic. He could easily kill her with his bare hands. No one knew he was here, save for the empty-headed princesses, and he could make away like a star come dawn.
No, no that wouldn't help.
Frowning, he knew what he needed to do and it wasn't to slay her—at least not presently. He first had to push the limits of this new technological magic, and then he could prepare his kind against it.
Smirking like a cat that drank the master's milk, he stripped off his tattered pants and lifted the sheets and blanket. Taking great care not jostle the bed too much, he noiselessly slipped between the covers and next to her body.
She would most likely pierce his eardrums when she discovered him, but it was worth the cost to see if what triggered the magic protecting her.
He would tantalize, seduce, and please her in order to see what the limits were of the new fake magic. If it ended up with them rutting, then so be it. After all, doing so would only end up in her death and his freedom.