Page 22

Sylvanna

T hat night I let Alaric bathe me. I have to admit, I love his big hands on me.

Despite his strength, he’s gentle and wary of hurting me—I think because all his life he’s had to be careful and worried about injuring anyone he touched or who touched him.

That consideration and his hunger for me makes him an excellent attendant and I have to admit, I enjoy every minute of it.

“Gods, Mistress, your breasts are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he holds me in his big hands and caresses the foaming soap over my full globes.

I like the way he’s careful of my nipples—he teases them but he knows better than to twist or pinch too hard.

Some women like that but I prefer to be handled with reverence and respect.

My new Blood-servant is excellent at that.

Speaking of blood…I really could use some.

My reserves are getting quite low, though my magical reservoir is overflowing from all the pleasure I’ve been taking from teasing and training my Paladin.

I consider ordering him to bare his throat for me—the Collar of Control sits low, it wouldn’t be in the way of my fangs. But something stops me.

Once I take blood from him, the bond growing between us, which was started by the ritual I did the very first night, will be well and truly sealed.

Meaning that when I let him go—as I know I eventually must do—it will pain me greatly.

Even now, it would hurt me to release him but if I take his blood it will be agony. I don’t like that.

I still remember the hideous pain of tearing myself away from Kraven after we had sipped each other’s blood and sealed our Bond.

It felt like being gutted with a dull blade and it took me months to recover.

I’m not anxious to feel that way again. No, I decide, it’s probably better to just go take a sip from a willing peasant I have no connection with.

There are a few who live in the lands around my tower.

At first they were frightened of me—and no wonder since my mother had the habit of catching and butchering stray travelers on a monthly basis to keep the tower fed with magic.

But slowly, over the years, I’ve been able to teach them that I’m not my mother and I don’t keep her ways.

Sometimes they even come to me now and beg for favors which they repay with a sip of blood or a basket of night-blooming tubers or whatever they can afford.

I encourage such encounters but I haven’t had one in a while.

Which is why my throat is dry tonight. I look longingly at the blue vein pulsing under the skin of Alaric’s strong throat…

and then look away again. The two of us are already drawing much closer than I would have dreamed possible in such a short time.

I’m thirsty but I can wait—I don’t want to bind myself to him so tightly that I have to feel soul-crushing agony when we part.

After he bathes me thoroughly and washes my hair, we get out of the tub and I allow my Paladin to dry me off. Then I bring out the padded table I keep for such occasions. I arrange myself on it and allow him to rub me with scented oils.

His cock looks painfully hard as he smoothes the sweet-almond oil all over my naked body, paying special attention to my breasts and the place between my legs.

“Mistress, when can I taste you again?” he asks, as he rubs the oil into my inner thighs.

His big hands feel so warm and strong on me I’m tempted to let him do it right now. But I can’t give him everything he wants. There’s a real danger when taking a dominant man like Alaric as a Blood-servant that he’ll simply take over. I can’t allow that.

“Later, my Paladin,” I murmur.

“But when?” he persists. “What about a single kiss—just one kiss between your thighs?”

I turn my head and give him a stern look.

“That’s how you got into trouble in the first place and the reason your cock is so hard and you’re not allowed to come,” I remind him.

“Fuck,” he growls and sighs deeply. But he behaves himself and doesn’t try anything—that’s important. If he tried to taste me by force, I’d have to use my Shadows to hold him down and punish him—I wouldn’t like that.

Kraven sometimes “played” with me that way—testing his strength against mine and then claiming it was “just a joke” when I got upset if he held me down or tried to force me.

I know now that he was gauging my power to see if he could Drain me or not.

At the time, I was too stupid to realize what he was about, but my past with him has made me wary and cautious now.

However, my Paladin is no rapist—he respects the boundaries I’ve set for him, even though massaging my naked body has made his cock rigid with need. Thinking of this makes me decide that he does deserve a reward after all.

I let him dress me in a purple silk robe and crotchless panties to match and then lead him into the bed chamber.

He frowns when he looks at the bed.

“Am I sleeping on the floor tonight?”

I have considered this long and hard. I really shouldn’t let him sleep with me, but to be fair, he’s too big for the trundle bed.

I can’t let him hold me like he did last night every night, though.

That will strengthen the bond between us too much—like taking his blood would.

Happily, I have come up with a compromise.

“No—you may sleep at the foot of my bed,” I tell him. “You’ll sleep at my feet—you should be more comfortable there.”

“Not as comfortable as I’d be if I could hold you,” he points out. “Didn’t you like the way we slept last night? All curled up together?”

There’s a longing in his deep voice that’s hard to ignore. It reminds me again that he’s starved for touch after almost an entire lifetime of being literally untouchable to the people around him.

“If you’re very good, I’ll let you hold me for awhile,” I tell him. “But when it’s time to sleep, you must move.”

“All right. I mean, yes, Mistress,” he nods eagerly. “Are we going to bed now?”

“Not quite yet.” I give him a smile. “You’ve been very good today, my Paladin—I think you deserve a reward.”

“What reward?” His face is a mask of warring emotions—suspicion…hope… and hungry desire.

“Lay on your back with your head at the very foot of the bed,” I command him. “A little to one side, though—I need to hold onto the bedpost.”

“But—” he begins

“Do as I say at once or your reward goes out the window,” I say sternly, holding up one finger for silence.

Alaric obeys with alacrity. He lays almost diagonal on the bed—which is the only way his big body fits when stretched out—with his head close to the far corner of the mattress. Then he looks up at me, eyebrows raised as if to say,

“Well?”

I don’t keep him waiting for long. I take off my robe—it will only get in the way—so that I’m only wearing the delicate fairy-lace panties with no crotch. Then I climb on the bed with him and straddle his face, my knees on either side of his head.

His eyes widen as he looks up at me.

“Mistress?” he asks hoarsely. “What are you doing?”

“I’m preparing to ride your tongue, my Paladin,” I tell him, smiling. “Do you think you’d like that?”

“Fuck, yes!”

He’s so eager I can feel the tension thrumming through his big body. His hands are curled into fists at his sides and his cock is straining and leaking precum again.

“Good, that’s good my Paladin,” I murmur, stroking his hair. “And remember, I expect you to give me long, delicious kisses and pay attention to my rosebud as well as my pussy. Do you think you can do that?”

“I know I can.” He wants to reach for me, I can tell—but he’s afraid I’ll change my mind if he tries to force or rush the situation. That’s very smart of him. He’s already beginning to know me.

“Good. Then let’s begin.” I grip the bedpost and lower myself down to his mouth, being careful not to crush him.

I haven’t done this in years, since I briefly had my second Blood-servant.

However, Jerome had a very slight frame and was scarcely taller than me so I was careful not to overwhelm him.

I am, after all, not exactly thin. Though I’m proud of my curves, I admit that they might be too much for some men to handle.

I can feel Alaric’s mouth against my outer pussy lips—his tongue slips in to caress my aching clit. It feels wonderful, but he doesn’t seem to be satisfied.

“Lower, Mistress,” he growls. “I want more of you—come lower!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I protest, looking down at him. “I don’t want to smother you!”

“Fuck that!” His eyes flash and his voice is a low, guttural growl. “Fucking smother me, Mistress! If I die, I’ll die happy.”

Then his muscular arms wind around my thighs and he drags me down, planting my open pussy and ass directly on his willing face.

I gasp as I lose my grip on the carved bedpost—can he breathe under there?

But Alaric doesn’t seem to be having a problem.

He’s feasting on me—there’s no other word for it.

I moan with surprised pleasure as his tongue invades me, sliding into my channel to taste my juices and then he sucks my clit into his mouth.

A moment later, he’s lashing my sensitive rosebud, then teasingly sliding just the tip of his tongue inside me until I squirm with pleasure.

I find that I’m gripping his hair and pulling hard, but he seems to welcome the pain. He continues to go back and forth, teasing both my pussy and my ass until I feel like I’m going to explode with pleasure!

“Goddess of Pleasure!” I cry and find I’m grinding against him.

I’m getting closer and closer to the edge.

To be honest, I was already halfway there from letting him stroke and caress and wash my body earlier.

But now he’s pushing me over the top and I feel my pleasure flowing outwards, filling my personal reservoir and then spilling over into the tower.