Chapter 6

I'm so bored. So very, very bored. Dyfri had to leave hours ago and there is nothing to do in Rhydian's rooms. The books are all in the fey language. There is no television, laptop, tablet or phone. Not even a radio. If there was a kitchen, I could eat out of boredom or entertain myself by baking or something.

The door to the bathroom is locked. Probably to prevent me from drowning myself. Strangely, the doors to the corridor and the rest of the palace are unlocked, with no guards in sight. I peeked out, but I'm not stupid. Buckingham Palace is a fey court now, and these motherfuckers are dangerous and I have no clue of the rules or what protection being Rhydian's pet gives me. Or even if it gives me any protection at all.

So, nope. I'm staying where it is relatively safe. At least until I know what is what, and can come up with an escape plan that will definitely work. Which is great and all, except it leaves me so very, very bored.

The little pink haired dudes brought me some roast chicken, what feels like hours ago. Presumably that was dinner. It is dark outside and there is no way to tell the time. I'm losing my mind.

Surely, Rhydian will be back soon? I almost don't care if he strides in, throws me on the bed and has his wicked way with me. Anything would be better than this unending nothingness.

Dyfri said he was busy tomorrow, but could give me more lessons the day after. The thought of an entire day of this is horrendous. I don't know how I will survive.

I don't even know enough yet to start plotting my escape. Same goes for helping Dyfri and trying to do some good. All I have at the moment are intentions, and they aren't enough to keep my mind occupied.

I move over to the chaise lounge and flop down on it, sprawling on my back. Then I drop my head over the edge so I'm viewing the sitting room upside down. There are pretty carvings around the base of the chandelier. The ceiling is so ridiculously high that I can't quite make out what the shapes are. Leaves and birds, I think. And I think when shapes are made out of plaster, it is called a cornice. But I have no idea how I know that.

The door opens and now I can see an upside down Rhydian standing in the doorway, looking at me as if I'm insane. He might be right. I think I have completely lost my mind.

I pull myself up into a sitting position. "Hi."

He frowns and quickly shuts the door behind him as if he doesn't want anyone to see that his pet has gone crazy.

He strides towards his bedroom, and I scurry after him. Hours and hours alone and I'm desperate for any sort of company. Even his. I'm so ridiculously happy to see him, it's absurd.

The lighting is soft in here, but the bed still looks ominous. Rhydian has his back to me as he removes his top layer of clothes.

Am I about to have my newfound cocksucking skills put to the test? Oh crap! I probably should have curtsied to him when he strode in. It is such an alien gesture to me, I doubt I'll ever get the hang of it. Oh well, he hasn't said anything at least.

He turns around and now I'm trapped in his gaze. His eyes look forest green today and a corner lamp is giving his antlers a soft aura. He looks like a creature of the forest. All mythical and magical.

I swallow. It's strange how merely looking at him makes my heart go all funny. But he is a creature of legend. And my captor. And a prince.

My lungs don't want to work. They want to freeze until Rhydian has decided if he is going for a bath, or a drink, or to sleep, or to order me to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth.

As I stare at him and wait to hear my fate, my eyes are drawn to the intricate braids that weave around his antlers. Every fey I have seen has something similar, some fancy way of keeping some of their long hair up. Even the little pink servant dudes have little buns that leave half their hair falling free. Dyfri is the only one I've seen with his hair completely loose, and given his comment about having his hair forcefully unbound, it clearly is a status symbol.

No one has braided my hair. Granted, my hair is fairly short, only just long enough to grab. But it could be braided, I'm sure of it. So the lack is an insult. Meant to be demeaning and demonstrate my lowly status as a mere pet.

I huff and cross my arms. Rhydian raises an eyebrow, but I'm not going to tell him I'm pissy because no one has braided my hair.

"Pleasure yourself," he says suddenly.

Okay, I was not expecting that. I thought he was going to ask why I am glaring at him in a strop. Or order me to blow him. This is going to take my mind a few moments to process.

"I can't. It doesn't work like that," I say eventually, when my brain cells have caught up.

"Why not?" he all but sneers.

I glare at the imperious asshole. To think I was softening towards him. But now, after hearing Dyfri's story, and how presumably, Rhydian has done nothing to help his own brother, I'm back to fully hating this jerk. Gah! Even the way he bossed Dyfri around this morning and treated him as if he was nothing, is annoying.

"I'm waiting for an answer, little pet."

Smug bastard. "I need to be aroused, and not scared," I tell him with my head held high.

His eyes narrow. "You managed well enough last night."

Because you cuddled me, got me to relax. And you played with my nipples and poured freaky oil on me! I want to shout at him.

"I thought I needed to learn that my pleasure doesn't come from my cock," I say instead.

Suddenly, my back is pressed against the wall, and he is inches from me. I stifle my yelp and swallow audibly instead.

"I am prepared to give you one last kindness." He holds up a black silk pouch. "I'm placing your cock in this and never taking it off. You won't be able to touch it, and no one else will."

I shudder. That's a truly terrifying thought. It is too much. Too overwhelming. My mind shies away from it and latches onto something banal. "How will I pee?"

"You will sit," he frowns.

"But the bag will get all wet and gross!" I protest.

His eyes swirl with outrage, annoyance and a grudging respect, presumably at my defiance. I'm getting much better at reading him. Or he is letting his walls down. Either way, it is progress.

"You think so little of my magic weaving skills?" he asks.

"I know nothing of magic weaving skills, yours or anyone else's!" I snap and it feels as if all my pent up rage is pouring out.

He lets out a little growl. Low and quiet. It rumbles through me and floods me with fear. It is a sound no human can make. My anger extinguishes with a whimper. My primal senses understand that I am no match for this man. Submission is my only chance of survival.

"Last chance to ever touch your cock."

I stare at him. Oh my goodness. I'm actually hard. Was it being pushed against the wall? The arguing? The growl reminding me that this is very much a predator before me? I don't have a clue. All I know is that I'm clearly sick and twisted.

I suck in a breath as his nimble fingers pull something at my waist, but this time my robes don't slide off, they fall open, like an untied bathrobe.

His eyes haven't left my own. Not once. I don't think he has even blinked, but somehow I know he is acutely aware of my erection.

"Last chance," he whispers softly.

Last chance to ever touch my own cock? I know nearly nothing about Rhydian, but I believe him. He doesn't make idle threats. His words have weight. He is speaking the truth. This is my last chance to touch myself. Ever.

I'm a young man, with needs. People think I'm strange for being a virgin, but it is an intellectual choice. My body very much wants to fuck and be fucked. All the time.

I jack off daily. Sometimes, more than once a day. I'm going to miss it. It is going to be torture.

My hand is shaking as I wrap it around my cock. I don't break eye contact as I start to stroke myself. Satisfaction and dark desire flash in his beautiful eyes, and my stomach flutters in response.

I pick up the pace, and his breath quickens. He is not unmoved. I have power over him, no matter how small it may be.

My eyes start to flutter closed as pleasure washes over me.

"Eyes open," he whispers.

I open my eyes. My knees are shaking. My balls are drawing up. I'm not usually this quick. I guess I like being watched. Or bossed about. Or possibly both. Never knew I was the kinky type, but look at me now.

As my hand reaches the top of my cock, I slide my thumb over my slit. Sensation blooms. I gasp. Rhydian's eyes widen and he leans in closer, as if he is breathing in my lust.

His pink lips part, and he runs his tongue over them. He is so close, I could lean forward an inch and kiss him.

"Cum for me, pet," he says.

And I do.