3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Lucien

I t is here. It is finally here. My wedding night. And I suspect it is more than the tea that is making me feel dizzy.

This bedchamber is gorgeous. All rich dark colors and a mahogany four poster bed that is definitely big enough for two people.

I gulp and tear my eyes away from the mass of Egyptian cotton sheets and plump pillows.

A fire is burning merrily away in the large fireplace. The turquoise and green tiles are pretty. All in all, it is a lovely room. And it is mine now. My new bedchamber. In my new rooms. In my new home.

My gaze flicks to the fairly well disguised door by the head of the bed. My old rooms never had one of those. A door that my husband could let himself in through at any time.

My lungs constrict, and I rub at my chest through the thin cotton of my receiving gown. There is no need to panic. Felford doesn't seem like a letch. He doesn't even like me. I'm quite sure he won't be letting himself in very often. Probably only when I'm ripe with magic and it is absolutely necessary.

As for me boldly using that door to stride into his bedchamber? Never going to happen. I know my place. I've learned it well. I'm not like some of these progressive vessels who throw tradition to the wind .

Perhaps Felford would like me more if I were? By all accounts, he is fairly progressive himself and considers himself a modern man. Maybe this is where I am going wrong?

A heavy sigh escapes me. I am my parents' child. A product of their upbringing and training. Nothing more than the tool they have shaped me into. I can't escape that. Cannot rewrite myself. As much as I might wish to.

A door shuts softly behind me. I whirl around to face it. Far too fast. Now I can't see a thing for how much my head is spinning. As my vision clears, I see Felford standing before me. He let himself in through the main door. Now his dark eyes are raking over me, drinking me in. The thin cotton of my receiving gown doesn't hide much at all. My arms move to cover myself from his gaze. I'm not supposed to. I'm supposed to allow him to see anything that he wishes to.

He doesn't berate me. He simply continues to stare. My gaze drops down to his wedding night clothes. Thin linen. Easy to remove. It shows the contours of his body far more than the suits I have always seen him in.

I swallow. He is a good-looking man. Well built. In his prime. Only a couple of years older than me. This all could be so very different. If we weren't both constrained by duty and magic. If he liked me.

Though judging by the fire in his eyes, he likes my body well enough. That's something. A good start, at least. Unless it is merely an effect of the Husband's Tea. Perhaps his preference is for women, and that's why he is so annoyed to have been given me?

No. I don't think that's true. A thousand dances, a hundred dinners. We move in the same social circles. We've been at the same events countless of times. I've seen where his eyes rove. They look at me. And others. But as much as that twists my heart with jealousy, the others who have caught his eye, have all been men. I have nothing to worry about on that regard .

Suddenly, my mind splutters and begins to function. I'm not supposed to be standing here silently ogling at him. There are words I need to say.

"How may I please you, my lord husband?"

My voice doesn't tremble. I sound calm. Assured. I'm finally glad my trainer made me practice those words a million times.

Felford raises one dark eyebrow. His expression drips with mockery and disdain.

"Such a perfect little vessel," he sneers, slurring the words slightly.

He is drunk. Or has drunk too much tea. Possibly both. My stomach twists into a knot.

"How about the rutting stool, since I paid so much goddam money for it?" he snipes.

My gaze flicks to the red velvet monstrosity looming in the shadowy corner. It is an instrument of tradition. Of ceremony. A wedding gift to demonstrate the mage's wealth. Nobody ever uses them anymore.

I look back at his dark eyes. Oh. He is serious. He wishes to belittle and humiliate me. Seems I have vastly underestimated his hatred of me.

"As you wish, my lord husband," I say with my head held high.

I turn and make my way as gracefully as I can to the rutting stool. I place my knees in the slots and bend over the padded top. I can only hope the craftsmen did their job correctly and measured Felford and I properly, and I am now at the perfect height and angle to receive my husband while he stands behind me.

Felford looks surprised for a moment before quickly striding over to me. I drop my gaze. He takes his place. My receiving gown has parted, revealing all of me, as it is designed to do.

I take a deep breath and concentrate on not squirming. My trainer had me resume this, and similar positions many times. I'm used to my naked ass being on display, while exhibiting the end of a butt plug. There is no need to get hysterical about it .

Felford draws in a sharp breath. I hope that means he likes what he sees. I'm young. In shape, and I'm bending over for him. What's not to like? Even he can't be that fussy.

A hand cups my ass cheek. I shudder. His touch is scalding. It burns through me and ignites my arousal, that was already smoldering thanks to the tea. Lust floods my veins. It pumps through to every part of my body. My cock swells and stiffens. Thank goodness. I need to spill to release my magic. This is a damn good start.

My hand only trembles a little as I pick up my brace from its delicate chain around my neck and place it between my teeth. My hand falls back down to the smooth handle of the rutting stool, and I wait.

The only sound I can hear is the pounding of my heart. It seems to take an age before Felford tugs the plug out of me. My hands tighten on the handles. My teeth bite down on my brace.

This is it. The most important moment of my life. My husband is about to take my body and unleash my magic. I will no longer be an untapped vessel. I will be forever changed. A person who absorbs magic from the world around them and regularly needs to submit to their husband to be emptied.

It is profound. Sacred. I am taking up my position of duty. Yet all I can think about is how I'm about to take my first real cock. Is it going to feel different from a dildo? Will it be better?

Anticipation is making me shake. A handsome man is about to take me. I shouldn't care for that at all. He is my husband. He deserves my honor and my respect. His looks should not interest me. It is shameful to be so excited by his appearance.

I feel him move behind me. I hate that the rutting stool is designed so that only the very necessary parts of the mage and vessel touch. Damn those prudish ancestors. I'd much prefer to be rolling around a bed in a delightful tangle of limbs.

Something nudges at my entrance. Something blunt, large, and far warmer than a dildo. My breath comes out in a gasp. My teeth clench harder on the brace. I will not disgrace myself by making a noise. A good vessel is a quiet vessel.

Suddenly, a thousand sensations explode through me. My lungs grunt. My hole burns. My guts cramp. I'm stuffed, spread, stretched and filled deep, deep inside. Holy fuck. Felford has rammed right into me. I opened myself up well, shoved lots of oil inside myself and then kept everything prepared with the butt plug. But there is still pain. I must have done something wrong.

Felford groans. A deep, manly groan of pleasure. My toes curl. He likes the feel of me. I am pleasing him.

His enormous cock eases a little way out and then slides back in, nearly forcing another grunt from me. My cock throbs. The heavy fullness feels good. A real cock is more silken than a phallus. Heated too. It feels much, much better. And I adore that I am giving pleasure and not only receiving it.

Felford's hips pick up a rhythm and he rocks into me. In and out. In and out.

Memories surge. A hundred recollections of bending over for my trainer while he worked me over with a dildo until I spilled. My eyes scrunch up tight. I don't want to think of that. I want to banish those memories forever.

I learned. I got better. I am not frigid. I know how to relax and let myself go.

I can do this. I will do this. It is my duty. I need to cum so my magic is freed and Felford can take it. And I have to do it soon before he grows frustrated with me.

He is not here to service me. He is here for my magic. Any pleasure is incidental. And should only be his. I am a vessel, my enjoyment needs only be functional. Just enough for me to find my release. Wanting anything more is decadent and greedy. I know this. I know it well.

I must stop wasting time and get on with it. But my peak feels so very far away. Distant enough to make me despair. But I can do this. I have to. It is my duty .

I need to pull up my favorite fantasy and lose myself in it. Picture myself surrounded by warmth. Hands touching me with tenderness and affection. Soft words. Sweet caresses. A languid pace. Gentle lips brushing over my own.

A whispered, ‘I love you,' in my ear.

My orgasm erupts with the power of Vesuvius. Sudden and overwhelming. Far stronger than anything I have experienced before. I am power and flame. Fire and fury. Destruction and wrath. My magic is pouring out of me. Thick, deadly, unstoppable lava destroying everything in its path.

My thoughts are obliterated. My soul is scattered. My humanity burned away. I am nothing but the raw magic surging from me.

Felford is here. Dark and cold. Ice to my fire. Absorbing my unleashed inferno. Taking it all. Stopping it from destroying the world.

I sob in relief and spin away into the void.

It is done.

I have given my magic to my husband.

I truly am a vessel.