Page 2 of A Royal’s Soul (Soul Match #3)

2. The Rooftop

Persephone Flores

We didn’t return immediately to our rooms. Instead, Selene guided us to my rooftop garden.

“Why are we here?” I asked, reaching out to perk up the strawberry bushes.

“What were you doing this afternoon, Percy?” Selene asked, her tone low and severe, almost a whisper.

I turned to her. Her molten-silver eyes glowed eerily in the quickly dimming light, and when the back of my knees hit the wooden flower bed, I realised I had taken an unconscious step away from her. I almost felt her anger in my chest, as if it were my own. I raised my hand and rubbed at the odd sensation.

“I don’t understand the question,” I said. “You know what I was doing.”

“Do I?” she asked sternly and stepped towards me, her eyes holding mine.

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat. I was scared. It had been a long time since she had behaved in a way that scared me. And yet, she hadn’t done anything. It was simply her look—the way it made me feel. I fought the urge to run, the instinct to flee.

“Why did Heidi lie for you?”

“Lie for me?” What did she mean, Heidi had lied for me? “She didn’t,” I protested.

“Do not play stupid with me, Pet. I am in no mood for such games. I know Heidi well enough to detect the difference in her scent when she is stressed or telling a mistruth. Lucky for you, President Minerva is unable to spot the difference,” Selene said, taking another step closer.

“I don’t understand, Selene,” I said. “I didn’t know Heidi was lying.” I continued and turned away from her, attempting to take a step to the side and create space.

Selene’s hand shot out and gripped my upper arm, stopping me. I whimpered. She hadn’t hurt me, but my heart raced, and my head spun. She was predatory in the way she had backed me against the boxed flowerbed. It was difficult to stay calm when someone as powerful and angry as Selene Borealis crowded your space.

“Shh,” she hushed me softly. “Little pet, don’t run from me. Not now. Not when I am so distressed. Hmm, don’t tempt my instincts?” she continued, her voice sweet and low.

“I was only practising how to harness my magic, I swear,” I told her, trying to calm myself. Selene wouldn’t hurt me. Not truly. But the foreign anger in my chest burned. I gripped my tie, loosening it.

“What is wrong, Pet?” Selene asked, tilting her head, her nostrils flaring. “Why are you panicking?” she continued, leaning away from me, her eyes narrowing in distrust.

“Are you lying to me about your practices this afternoon?” Her grip on my upper arm increased fractionally, and she huffed an angry exhale.

“I need to know the truth, Percy. I can’t protect you otherwise. I don’t care if you were dabbling in inter-coven magic. By Hades, I’d let you damn us all if you so wished it! But I won’t allow you to foolishly and fearfully damn yourself by keeping secrets from me.”

She shook me by the arm and drew closer to me.

“How could I ever keep a secret from you?” I gasped, the burning in my chest increasing as I pulled at my collar with my free hand.

“You know when I am lying. You smell it, or hear it, or just know it somehow, Selene.”

Frustration fuelled the burning in my chest and my rising voice.

“What is wrong with your neck?” she asked, grabbing my free wrist and pulling it away from my collar.

“I don’t know,” I nearly shouted. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t understand anything that’s happened in the last hour!”

Tears burned my eyes. I hated angry tears. They were the worst. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to scream. Where was all this frustration coming from?

Selene released her hold on me and stepped back, allowing space between us. I watched as she breathed in and out steadily for a few moments, controlling herself. Her eyes closed in concentration. When she opened them, they were no longer glowing.

“Do you feel better?” she asked.

“Better?” What did she mean? But the burning in my chest died, and I felt a hollow coldness where it had been, almost like something was missing. I didn’t want the burning back, but I wanted the space filled. With the burning gone, the frustration left as well. I felt like I was seeing clearly, like a fog had lifted that I hadn’t even realised had descended in the first place. “I, uh, yeah?” I said, confused.

Selene smiled, softer. “I apologise. It appears my enchantments are not enough to completely shield you. When I am next able, I will have the Royal Enchanter see what he can do,” she said, reaching out her hand towards my face, her thumb sweeping gently across my cheek to brush away a tear.

“What?” I was beyond confused. What world was I living in?

“You were being impacted by my emotions, darling. The soul match bond is growing in strength. Before now, enchantments designed to protect me from magic—the likes of Coactus—have shielded you. Forgive me for not recognising sooner that you were afflicted,” she explained and dropped her hand from my face. “You were not lying, then? The magic that caused—I’m not sure what to call it other than death—was yours alone?” she asked.

“Yes…” I started and shook my head. “Wait, what do you mean I’ve been shielded from your emotions? What about our bond?” I questioned. My head was beginning to hurt. Everything was happening to me today. It was like I wasn’t part of the script; I was simply there, without control.

“The soul match bond, Percy. Did you not think—not assume—knowing of my enchantments, that that was what was blocking my emotions from you?” she asked.

I was more confused.

“Are you saying that I should be feeling your emotions?” I asked and rubbed at my temple.

“It is standard to share in the emotions and physical sensations of one's soul match. Were you unaware of this?” she asked, something in her voice close to irritation.

“I thought I was meant to feel your love for me. I’ve been waiting for the bond to complete,” I admitted. I didn’t know how long the bond would take to properly form. I worried it hadn’t done so yet because Selene still had doubts about us. “Wait, have you been blocking me from experiencing the bond?”

“Of course,” she replied, and I recognised that I had somehow frustrated her in the clipped tone she had used.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, hurt. Why would she stop us from sharing the truest of bonds? “Do you not want the bond with me? I thought you had chosen me, too?”

“Percy, pet, I don’t understand why you’re getting upset,” she said, and took hold of my shoulders.

“You wear my ring, do you not?” I nodded, feeling the weight of her grandmother’s ring against my chest where it hung on the necklace around my neck. “I have refused all suitors and told my father I will pursue only you, have I not?” I nodded again. “Then why do you doubt me?” she asked and released a quiet growl of frustration.

“Why have you been blocking the bond?” I asked in accusation, too hurt and rejected to accept her words.

“I’m beginning to think you do not know what a soul match bond truly is,” she chastised, her tone shifting to accusatory and disciplinarian.

“Of course, I know,” I argued.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“What?” I asked.

“Tell me what you think a soul match bond is, Percy,” she commanded.

“It’s…” I hesitated. I knew what a soul match was. Obviously, everyone knew. But the way she looked at me expectantly, knowingly—like she expected me to say the wrong thing—it ungrounded me.

“Well, I’m waiting for an answer,” she goaded. I huffed, frustrated.

“It’s the purest of bonds, a promise, of the truest love possible, in whatever form that may take: familial, platonic, or romantic. But love true. If both parties want it. It’s finding your person, someone perfect for you in some way. And when a bond is formed, it can never be broken. The two are linked indefinitely and can feel each other’s love, knowing without doubt how the other feels for them,” I explained confidently.

Selene’s mouth turned in displeasure.

“Is that it? Is that all you think a soul match is?” she questioned, looking away from me.

“We’re connected. Our souls are tied. Someone could use me to get to you,” I continued, though I wasn’t sure of the specifics—only that dark magic against me could also affect Selene, that I was a vulnerability.

Selene released my shoulders and exhaled in exasperation.

“You’ve given me a headache,” she complained. “Or perhaps it is your own,” she added, pinching the bridge of her nose before growling and turning her eyes back to mine.

“A soul match bond is much more than your romanticised fairy tale. A fully formed bond is not simply about sharing love. Our souls are now one. We may share everything—emotions and physical sensations. A potential bond is dangerous enough, capable of being used to track and hunt the other in the pair. It’s how I found you after the summer ball; I gave Ana my blood to track yours . A fully realised bond is so much more. It hasn’t been confirmed—the bond is so rare and secretive—but there is enough anecdotal evidence, enough hearsay, that I believe it is more likely than not that if one dies, so falls the other. We are one. Irrevocably. Did you seriously pursue this bond with so little knowledge of the consequences?” Selene almost hissed, and I felt like a child in trouble.

Her question silenced me. The air seemed colder, and any remaining light was quickly vanishing.

“If… if I die, you die too?” I asked.

The weight of such a responsibility—the fact that I held my soul match’s life in my hands—was heavy. I reached out to grip the flowerbed box behind me for support, my legs suddenly feeling weak.

“According to most beliefs regarding soul matches, yes. My own research proved challenging to know for sure. Soul matches tend to end tragically—at least those whose stories are told do. Perhaps there are others—lower classes, commoners—who simply grow old; one dies, and then, at some later point, the other. But such lives are not written about. They do not become legends of greatness or cautionary tales.” Selene explained.

“Oh,” I replied, staring down at my feet and the boots Selene insisted I wear. They were big and clunky and super warm, and I loved them for it. I loved her for thinking of my toes. Selene thought of everything when it came to my safety and needs, and yet I had been entirely unaware of how much of Selene’s safety and needs I was responsible for in return. My head was spinning. “I can’t be responsible for your life, Selene. I can’t. I’m too weak compared to you. I… I… vampires live longer than witches, by decades usually. You can’t… I can’t… what are we going to do?”

I couldn’t be the reason she died. Not now. Not in eighty years when I’m old and grey— when Selene still had another twenty years before Hades called for her. I couldn’t even use my own magic properly!

The melodic laughter of Selene drew me from my spiralling thoughts. I looked up from my boots to her bright smile, fangs on show, eyes glowing slightly. She was utterly beautiful—striking—her black-as-night hair beginning to fade into the surrounding darkness, her molten silver eyes captivating me. We had known each other for three seasons now, and I was still so easily drawn in by her dark, powerful essence. The type of distraction that was dangerous, as it consumed my thoughts—maybe my very soul.

“There is nothing that can be done, Pet,” she said and reached out to grip my throat in a domineering way. The sort of way that made my heart race a little faster and my skin tingle, like electricity flowed where she touched.

“You are mine. I chose you, my little witch. Yes, you were persistent, endlessly hopeful, adorably na?ve, and so very tempting.”

She pulled me towards her and bent her head to scent me, taking a long inhale.

“But had I not desired you so, there would be no bond between us,” she said softly against my ear, her warm breath caressing the shell of my cold ear, and I shivered.

“I made my decision. If it costs me my elder years, so be it.”

Her arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against her, and she left my ear to look down upon me as she held me tightly. Her hand at my throat flexed slightly to drag my attention away from the arousal that had swept so swiftly through me and back to her.

“There is nothing to be done, Pet. You will not concern yourself with such worries again.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

But I knew I would. I think she knew it too. Of course, I would worry; the moment I wasn’t wrapped up in her, I would worry. How could I not? Would she suffer every one of my minor afflictions? A cut from a thorn? A scraped knee from a fall? What was the limit? Could it be controlled in some way?

“Good. Now tell me, how did you do it?” she asked, and I was confused again.

Did I miss some part of the conversation? My expression must have given my confusion away, because she laughed and quickly kissed my lips chastely before releasing me from her hold.

“How did you drain the life from the Noble Student Residence Halls’ garden? Can you show me?” she asked and pointed to my strawberries.

I gasped.

“Not my strawberries,” I protested.

The mere thought of destroying my favourite fruit was almost blasphemous and pulled me immediately out of the aroused haze that I had been slipping into. Selene laughed; she knew my love for my strawberries, her smirk giving away her intent. I frowned in a playful sort of way, the silent teasing between us lessening the previous tension.

“Anyway, I don’t think I could do it again if I tried,” I told her, unimpressed with her blatant disregard for my strawberries.

She calmed quickly, “Explain,” she demanded, an edge to her voice, and distrust filled my stomach in a queasy way. The softness of our interaction turned hard again.

“Is that my own, or do you distrust me?” I asked.

Anger crossed her features momentarily, and with it, a brief burning in my chest before both sensations quickly stopped.

“We will find a way to put a stop to that. I do not enjoy you questioning me based on phantom emotions that you can hardly distinguish from your own,” she told me, and the way she looked away from me—just briefly before turning her eyes back—indicated that she was upset.

“So you distrust me?” I questioned again, pressing for an answer.

She may have been upset that I could feel how she felt, but still, I was offended. “I’ve never lied to you. Why do you have so much distrust for me now?”

“I’ve never heard of a Flores witch draining life, Percy,” she stated coldly, her eyes watching me as if expecting to find some answer in my expression, “Heidi lied to President Minerva when she said such a gift was rare but not unknown. This leaves two possibilities for what took place today. The first and infinitely more likely: you and Ana were dabbling in inter-coven magic—a violation of Borealis law that carries the death penalty. Or second, you possess a novel ability, and not some insignificant, barely-worth-writing-about novel ability, but one with the potential to bring entire lands to their knees without a single shot, nor bomb, nor soldier’s life risked. An ability that would be sorely coveted and produce a whole new set of challenges for me in keeping you safe. So, my little pet, which problem must I contain?”

I gulped nervously.

“You’re talking about war?” I asked and she simply kept her stare on me, waiting for an answer. “I’d never help in a war. I don’t care what it’s about, whose side we’re on. I won’t ever help to starve another person, Selene. Never,” I told her categorically. Her stare held. “I, we, we weren’t—it’s not inter-coven magic,” I stuttered, feeling the weight of Selene’s silence as she waited for my answer. Selene exhaled unhappily.

“It was your own magic?” She asked.

I nodded.

“I wish it had been inter-coven magic,” she sighed. “It would have been far easier to find someone to burn in your place, abdicate as heir to the throne, and disappear to live somewhere far and remote—a different land—together. This new ability of yours complicates already complicated matters further.”

“What do you mean? What matters?” I asked.

Things had been calm since the summer. Sure, there were tensions between the Academy guard and the Royal guard, but that was kind of to be expected given how protective Selene was. But she had reminded me—Selene had chosen me. No new suitors pursued her—or if they did, I was unaware—and she did not entertain them. She had even informed the King of us. She hadn’t told me much about how that conversation went or how he felt about it, but life had been normal—as normal as it can be for a Princess.

“You said you cannot repeat the feat. That is unacceptable. You must be able to perform the same magic again. It’s the quickest way to prove you and your friend’s innocence—before the accusation spreads kingdom-wide,” she said, ignoring my questions. I huffed in frustration. I knew she would not answer me. Selene had a habit of keeping her work to herself.

“I don’t know how I do it. I’ve only done it once before,” I said, deciding to leave the issue of complicated matters alone until Selene chose to share with me in her own time. I trusted that she would—eventually, if she thought it necessary or not at all if whatever she classed as complicated corrected itself. I felt upset. If I could trust her so easily, why could she not trust me?

“You’ve done it before? When?” she questioned, eyes glowing brighter, interested.

“The day you came for me. In the spring. When you—when you threw me to the ground. I noticed my strawberries wilt. I didn’t think of it again. Not until now. But it was a minor version of what I did today,” I explained.

“I apologise for being so rough with you,” Selene said sombrely.

“It’s okay,” I rushed to reassure her, not liking the flash of sadness that crossed her face. But she shook her head to stop me.

“You will not make excuses for me or attempt to lessen my guilt. It is deserved. Still, we must move on. What I understand is that in both instances when you performed this magic, you were unexpectedly attacked and/or scared, yes?” she asked, I nodded. “You must practice then, until you can perform the same magic again on at least one plant. You will show President Minerva your new ability as soon as you can. It is the easiest way to release the accusation of inter-coven magic.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I agreed. “I’ll start now.” I turned to choose which plant in my garden would sadly be my victim.

Selene turned me back around by my shoulder, an endearing smile tugging at her lips.

“No, you’ll start tomorrow,” she said, pulling me closer to her by my loosened tie.

“Tonight, you rest. Come now, Pet,” she continued.

I was caught off guard, and immediately my mind was pulled from all thoughts of my magic, as she turned and tugged me behind her, using my tie like a leash. My cheeks instantly burned at how degrading the act was. Every time she chose to treat me like an actual pet, I was simultaneously surprised, and I found myself slipping into a sort of state of feeling that was not at all unpleasant. It happened so quickly, I couldn’t stop it if I tried. I was sure Selene knew of it—knew what she did to me.

“Selene, please,” I whispered as we neared the end of the staircase down from my rooftop garden. I knew whoever was on guard outside our quarters would see me being led like an animal in such a way, and just the thought filled me with nauseating embarrassment.

“Hmm?” Selene hummed.

“The guard,” I whispered, the prospect of the embarrassment lowering my voice, as if speaking it aloud was embarrassing in itself.

“What of him?” she asked as she pushed open the door and led me out into the corridor.

It was too late. My cheeks grew somehow hotter, and I lost the ability to speak, to form the words of my protest, as I walked as quietly and small as I could behind my Mistress and kept my eyes trained on my feet. I would not risk making eye contact with whoever was on duty guarding our home that night which would cement the embarrassment I would feel every time I saw them from that point on. I saw the guard's boots come into view, the door being pushed and held open for us. Selene did not release her hold on my tie until the door was closed behind us.

“What now?” I asked expectantly when she did nothing more than release me. I felt small compared to her, smaller than my actual stature. Waiting for her command. It was calming, in a way, even if the humiliation had been all-consuming only moments before. Now there was only Selene, my Mistress, my Princess, my soul match. Only what she wanted of me.

“Now,” she said as she walked behind me and helped me out of my puffy jacket and then blazer, her hands rubbing my shoulders through my shirt soothingly.

“Take your boots off,” she commanded as she released my shoulders to hang up the jacket and blazer on the coat stand by the door. I immediately moved to kick off my boots but stopped when she tutted disapprovingly and I knelt down to untie the laces instead.

“That’s better,” she praised as she walked into my line of sight while I switched knees to remove the last boot and chose to stay on my knees. It felt right in the moment, with my boots placed neatly to the side of me. She had removed her own blazer and tie and began to undo the buttons on her shirt to midway, until her bra and chest were visible.

“Is it warm enough in here, pet?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, on my knees, anticipation growing within me, my stomach muscles tightening. I hoped that Selene would indulge the feeling building within me, the desire to be hers—to know it physically, viscerally.

“You will tell me, won’t you, if it becomes cold? The weather is changing fast this year. The autumn term is not yet complete, but winter has already begun,” she said as she walked to the kitchen.

I watched her. I watched as she kicked off her own shoes, opened a cabinet, and selected a glass. I watched as she opened the fridge, took out a red berry smoothie—thick and reminiscent of her blood bags—and poured a glass. I watched as she returned and sat down on the sofa. And then she watched me, never breaking eye contact as she took a sip of the smoothie, her lips over the edge of the glass, her fangs momentarily visible as she commented, “Sweet.”

“Not as sweet as me,” I stated confidently, boastfully, on my knees, waiting impatiently. I was rewarded with a smirk and a flash of glowing silver. The approval, subtle as it was, caused a rush of arousal within me, my abdomen clenching in response.

“No, not as sweet as you,” she agreed and set the glass on the end table beside the sofa.

She uncrossed her legs at the knee and parted them, leaving enough space for me to fill.

“Come,” she commanded.

I began to stand.

“No, Pet. Crawl,” she instructed.

I hesitated—not out of defiance but out of self-consciousness, a sudden worry that I would look ridiculous.

“Is there a reason you’re keeping me waiting?” she asked, and it pushed me into motion.

Leaning forward and placing my hands on the floor, I crawled to her. As degrading as the act should have been, there was something undeniably empowering as I looked to my Mistress, knowing I was the cause of the way her eyes brightened and how she unconsciously bit her lower lip as I made my way between her legs. I sat back on my heels, my palms on my thighs, my heart thundering inside my chest, and waited.

“Such a good girl, hmm?” she praised, reaching out and delicately running the back of her fingers against my cheek. I closed my eyes and tried to lean into her touch, but it was quickly gone, and I was disappointed at the loss. I opened my eyes as she laughed.

“Don’t pout, darling. Are you thirsty?” she asked.

“Thirsty for you,” I quipped, smiling at my own joke.

She raised an eyebrow—I wasn’t sure if it was in shared amusement or if she was questioning whether I was going to behave or not.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, erring on the side of cautious.

She held the glass to my lips and I drank dutifully until she removed the glass.

“Stand up,” she commanded. “No touching,” she added.

I did so, careful not to reach out and steady myself with a hand on her knee. I knew I couldn’t touch, not without permission. To break the command would only prolong my wait. And it felt like I had been waiting all night. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for. I thought that was part of the game Selene liked to play—to keep me on edge. But I wanted to touch her; I wanted to press my face against the inside of her thigh and just stay there for a while, breathing her in. I wanted to be wrapped up by her, trapped between her legs, held tightly in place, surrounded by her. Devoured by her. To be consumed by Selene was to be free from all the memories that haunted me—and every little stress of the day. But I controlled myself, stood as instructed, and waited.

Wordlessly, she leaned forward, her hands on her knees, her nose just brushing the hollow of my neck, as she breathed in my scent. She moaned in pleasure as she pulled away. My legs grew weaker as the sound of her appreciation caused my stomach to tense in desire.

“This is torture,” I complained, the desire to touch her feeling almost overwhelming.

She laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart, should I show you torture?” she asked as she carefully removed my tie and sat it beside her.

“No,” I was quick to reply, regretting my words and how whiny I sounded.

“No?” she questioned, one eyebrow raising expectantly, a smirk on her lips indicating I had messed up in a way she enjoyed correcting.

“No, Ma’am . Sorry,” I answered, emphasising the word ‘Ma’am’ and sounding far more bratty that I had intend. I hoped she would let the minor disrespect and tone of my voice go.

When in public I was to address her formally, with titles and respect, but privately she was simply Selene. Yet in moments like this—moments when she smirked like she owned the world and the world was me, moments when all I wanted to do was give in to whatever she desired, or sometimes, conversely, desired that she forced her desires upon me—her titles and honorifics were to be used. We had never discussed it; it wasn’t really a necessary conversation—it was simply known between us, natural. Still, sometimes I forgot. It was easy to mess up and accidentally call her by her name in public or forget her proper title in such charged moments. It was almost easier when I didn’t have permission to use her name.

“Better,” she said as she began to unbutton my shirt.

She pulled the fabric off my shoulders and down my arms to the elbow. My exposed skin prickled in the coolness of the room. It wasn’t cold; I was simply heating up, and the difference in temperatures was noticeable. She took hold of my hips, her fingers pressing into my flesh through the fabric of my trousers as she made me turn my back to her. I shivered as she moved her hands playing with the hair at the nape of my neck, then ran her fingertips down my exposed spine to my mid-back, where the shirt's fabric halted her progress.

“You have such a lovely back, smooth, unblemished, a canvas,” she commented.

Before I had time to worry about what she meant by canvas, she unexpectedly took both my wrists behind my back. I released a gasp of surprise and involuntarily tried to pull my wrists away.

“Now, now,” she chided, placing both my wrists in one of her warm hands. I felt the fabric of my tie as she used it to bind my wrists together behind my back.

“What is this for?” I asked, testing the binding of my wrists.

“You seem to be in a defiant mood,” was her reply.

“But I’m not,” I defended.

It was one frustrated comment, one tiny little missed honorific—how did that equal defiance? She stood from the sofa behind me, her lips at my ear.

“Such a response, to argue, only proves the point,” she said before nipping at my shoulder gently and kissing up to my neck.

I moaned in response, tilting my head to allow easier access for her soft lips and teeth. She laughed against my skin and delivered a harsher bite. I yelped and pulled back. Her hands found my hips again, steadying me before moving to the front of my trousers, undoing the button and zip, and creating space for her hand to push past my panties. I inhaled sharply as she cupped me fully before parting me, one finger running through my folds.

“Always so wet,” she murmured against my ear, her hot breath blazing against my suddenly sensitive skin. She used her free hand to grip my hair and pull my head to the side as she continued to kiss, suck, and bite along the column of my neck.

My skin was on fire, burning with pleasure. I became a moaning mess. I rocked against her hand, desperate for friction, while stretching my neck out almost painfully to ensure every inch of my skin received the attention of her lips, teeth, and soothing tongue.

She pressed the heel of her palm against my clit as she entered me with one finger and then pushed in a second. I was wet and open for her but not quite ready for such a stretch. It created a wonderful burn, and I felt myself clamp down around her.

My underwear and trousers restricted her movement, but the pressure of her palm and the fullness of the stretch as her fingers crisscrossed inside me—while I continued to grind myself against her—meant that I was closer and closer to falling over the edge into ecstasy.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, darling? I can feel you squeezing around me. Such a needy girl,” Selene taunted.

“Ugh,” I groaned, my hips grinding harder in response. “Yeah,” I cried.

“Do you like it when I fill you up?” she asked as she added a third finger. The stretch was bliss—the full feeling, her hot breath against my ear. I was going to cum. “Hmm?” she prompted.

“Y-yeah,” I groaned out as I came—hard and embarrassingly fast—my core tensing and clamping around her fingers.

“That’s it,” she encouraged as I ground slowly against her, trying to prolong the sensation. It was over far too soon—had built and crashed over the edge far too soon. And I was somehow disappointed.

“Now,” she released my hair to grip my jaw, turning my head to kiss my lips as she slowly removed her fingers from inside me and her hand from my panties. I whimpered at the loss. She released my jaw and smacked my butt playfully.

“I want to shower,” she said, standing, stepping around me, and making her way to the bathroom.

“Wait,” I said, pleading.

“Yes, Pet?” she answered.

“I’m… I mean, I—” I struggled to find the words to describe what I was feeling, and she only smiled at me in growing amusement. Frustration flushed through me, and I felt a wave of embarrassment.

“What is it, Pet?” she encouraged, sickly sweet.

“I—” I tried again and pulled at my tied wrists, only just becoming aware that I was still restrained. My emotional turmoil at not feeling satisfied with how quickly everything had ended had caused me to forget that I was all tied up.

“My wrists,” I said, almost confused.

“Yes,” she said, as if simply acknowledging my statement. “What is it that you want?” she continued, taking pity on me, in a condescending way.

“I came too quickly,” I answered, which wasn’t really an answer.

Selene nodded but didn’t speak; and embarrassment flushed through me. She waited for me to continue, with that annoying smirk on her lips.

“I don’t want it to be over,” I eventually managed to put words to my feelings. “I mean, I know I came, but… but it didn’t feel— I don’t feel right about it,” I said and turned my head away to look at the ground, something about the admission feeling somewhat shameful.

“You’re not entirely satisfied with the experience?” Selene questioned.

I nodded, still refusing to look at her.

“My little pet, I still have you all tied up; I’m not done with you yet,” she told me, and I raised my head to watch her walk back to me.

She raised my chin with her finger. “I had intended to leave you here to simmer in your frustration while I freshened up for the rest of our night, but I suppose you could accompany me in the shower,” she offered.

I felt an odd mixture of embarrassment at how quickly my growing upset had been swiped away, and how silly it was of me to not realise that I was still tied up. Selene wouldn’t leave me tied up unless she planned to return to me.

“Would you like that?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, nodding emphatically. She laughed, took hold of me by my elbow, and guided me to the bathroom with her.