11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

I thought captivity and being enslaved were going to be many things. Boring was not one of them. But here I am, more bored than I have ever been in my entire life.

It is a little chilly, so I’ve stolen a sheet from the bed and now I’m wandering around wrapped in it, for all the world like a ghost. A lost and lonely soul, draped in white. Walking around aimlessly.

Mabon left for the evening, what feels like hours ago. I’ve been left alone in his rooms. Locked in. His rooms are luxurious, so this really is no prison cell. But there is absolutely nothing to do. No TV, no computer or sound system. No books. I can’t even tidy because everything is spotless and I don’t have any mops or dusters.

I’ve done all the situps, pushups, crunches and even star jumps I should do for the day. Maybe Mabon will buy me some weights if I ask him? He is certainly a fan of my muscles, so presumably he will be keen for me to maintain them?

In the meantime, I need to find something to do before I lose my mind. Despondently, I wander over to the window and plonk down on the padded window seat. It’s not a great view. The Mall is a fancy and famous road, and it leads up to the palace in all its wide, tree lined splendour. But this set of rooms are to the side, overlooking the trees, and trees at night is not the most scintillating view. At least I can see some city lights in the distance, and hear a faint hum of traffic. It’s strange to think London and freedom is on the other side of this pane of glass. It seems further away than that. Much further.

I wonder what Amanda and the rest of the Scoobies are up to? I strongly suspect that Amanda is yelling at everyone that they need to storm the palace to rescue me. The thought makes me smile. Hopefully, the other Scooby members have more sense.

Still, I wonder if they are out there in the dark, trying to scope the palace. I peer through the glass, but it is no good. I can’t see a thing.

This candle in the windowsill is making the night seem even darker than it is. Maybe if I moved it?

My hand wraps around the base, and then inspiration strikes. It’s pointless and stupid. But it’s not like I have anything else to do.

I put my hand between the flame and the darkness. Then I uncover it. Then cover it. The rhythm of Morse Code is soothing. My hand waves out a simple message. I’m alive. I’m well.

It’s accurate enough. I haven’t been tortured or interrogated. Mabon doesn’t even know I’m the leader of a Resistance cell. He just thinks I’m hot.

I continue to wave my hand up and down, repeating and signalling my message out into the empty night.

It’s a shame I have nothing more useful to communicate. I’m going to have to keep working on that front.

That’s if Mabon ever allows me out of these rooms again. He is clearly still rattled that I stumbled onto my discovery, and that is why he has left me behind. Even though he could gag me to ensure I don’t tell anyone. But I suppose that wouldn’t stop me from learning new things.

It irks me that he doesn’t trust me. Which is ridiculous, because he is right not to. It also irks me that he is out there alone. Where I can’t help him. And I’m irked that I’m irked. All in all, I’m being absurd.

Feeling protective of Mabon is bizarre. Where has this feeling come from? I know I have a strong sense of justice, always have. I mean, I joined the Resistance for flip’s sake.

But Mabon is my enemy. An invader. My captor. My sense of justice should make me hate and despise him. Not make me concerned for his well-being.

I shouldn’t care that he is terrified of that creepy duke guy. I’ve tried puzzling it out, but it’s impossible to figure out what is going on. I simply do not have enough information to go on. Whatever the root of Mabon’s secret, it’s irrelevant to the Resistance. I can’t see how I can use it to any advantage. So I should just forget it. It doesn’t matter.

“What are you doing?”

Mabon’s soft voice makes me all but levitate off the window seat. My heart is thundering and my lungs stuttering.

“Fucking hell!” I yelp.

He is standing right beside me. My hand snatches away from the candle. How long has he been standing here for?

“Nothing! I was just bored!” I answer hastily, as I turn my body towards him.

Mabon’s gorgeous eyes are slightly hazy. He has been smoking. Or drinking. Possibly both. Which is great. It might be the only reason he doesn’t seem suspicious at finding me sitting in a window seat waving my hand in front of a candle.

Instead, his lips puff up into a pout. “I’m hungry.”

I blink at him. Am I supposed to fetch food for him? I have no idea where the kitchen is.

His gaze drops down to my sheet covered groin and he licks his lips. Oh. He means horny, not hungry. Mabon is horny.

My mind repeats those three words on an echo. My libido stirs and awakens. Mabon is horny, and suddenly, just like that, so am I.

His agile fingers go to his slender waist. He pulls at something. A cascade of falling silk and now he is naked. Silver chains glint against the shimmer of his pale skin.

His cock looks engorged. Swollen and inflamed. I wince in sympathy. That can’t be comfortable. And he can’t do a thing about it for himself. That really sucks.

My hand is reaching for him, before the thought has crossed my mind. But suddenly, Mabon sinks to his knees.

“I want to taste you.”

Fireworks are exploding in my mind. I don’t understand why, or how, but this is the hottest moment of my life. I’m going to combust from the heat of it.

Is it because Mabon is a prince and he is kneeling for me? Is the power trip going to my head, and my cock?

But that doesn’t make any sense. This is not my world. Royalty is not usually part of my life. I’m not impressed by it. And it’s not like I’ve had years of haughty princes lording it over me, to find this sudden submission so darkly satisfying.

While my mind has been scrambling, my legs have been spreading. Mabon peels the sheet off of me.

“Nice to see you, Mister Dinky,” he grins, flashing his deadly dimples.

I’m hard. So very hard. And I’m not at all resisting.

It’s fine, it’s all fine. I’m a young man in my prime. It would be frankly unnatural to turn down a blow job. And that’s a good enough excuse for me.

He leans forward and, without any further preamble, engulfs me in tight, wet heat. My head falls back and thuds against the windowpane. My hands grip the lip of the window seat.

His soft, pillowy lips roll up and down my shaft. Pleasure is exploding through me. I’m groaning with it. Fuck me. I’ve gone from zero to one hundred in nanoseconds. Mere moments in Mabon’s mouth and I’m a mess of lust, arousal, and desire.

He slides all the way to the top of my cock, then off with a wet plop. A breeze dances over my wet, achingly hard cock and I whimper.

Mabon’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded. His lips are puffy and glistening.

“I want to ride you,” he rasps.

My vision whites out. My cock throbs. A deep, utterly filthy moan pours shamelessly out of me.

Mabon stands. He hooks a finger under my collar and pulls me to my feet. Then he tows me to his bedroom, where he flings me unceremoniously onto the bed. I bounce a little. He climbs on top of me. Legs straddling my hips. One long-fingered hand firmly on the centre of my chest, holding me down, even though I have no wish to be anywhere else.

He rises up onto his knees. The hand that is not holding me in place, is moving. It takes my dizzy mind long moments to comprehend what it is seeing.

Mabon’s fingers are oiled, and he is busy opening himself up for me.

Another filthy noise rumbles out of my throat. Mabon’s eyes flash in appreciation. I have no idea where the oil came from. Time is jumping. Skipping. Slowing down and speeding up. Being with Mabon is hot enough to alter reality.

My hands find his thighs and rest on them as he kneels above me, fingering himself. My gaze is fixed on where his hand is moving between his legs. I want to help, but I have no idea what I’m doing. Maybe another time Mabon can teach me. Right now, this is amazing.

A dark, niggling doubt tries to rise up. I shouldn’t want this. I’ve been saying no.

I push the thought down and bury it. I’ve done everything else with Mabon, so why not this? It is surely semantics at this point? Besides, for the life of me, I cannot remember why I ever wanted to say no.

Mabon is gorgeous. And I want him with a passion that burns.

His fingers leave his hole. They wrap around my cock, holding it steady. Mabon shifts position over me. Notching my shaft against his entrance.

I moan and my hips try to buck, but I stop them. This is Mabon’s ride. He is in control. My role is to surrender and allow him to use me.

Mabon slowly lowers himself. The head of my cock eases past his tight ring of muscle. I’m enveloped in heat and pressure. I groan. He is so tight. So hot. Silken and perfect. I can feel his body opening up for me. Giving way.

He slides slowly down. Inch by inch, he takes me, until he is fully seated. Our bodies flush. The soft globes of his ass resting on me. I’m all the way inside Mabon and it feels incredible.

He stares down at me. Smiles, flashing his dimples. Then he moves.

I’m yelling before my mind has processed the sensation. Pleasure, intense and exquisite, is consuming all of me. Mabon is riding me hard. Slamming up and down with force and speed. The friction of his tight rim over my cock is extraordinary.

His cock is bouncing up and down. The chain attached to the piercing on the end, is sliding through his belly button ring. From there, the fine silver splits into two, and runs up to his nipples and pulls on them. Hard. His cock is bouncing and causing tugging on his nipples.

I groan helplessly. It’s the most erotic thing I have ever seen.

Mabon is magnificent. His body is undulating with unabashed pleasure. His beautiful face is painted in hues of sheer abandon and decadence. I have never seen a more beautiful sight. He is taking precisely what he wants and exulting in it.

My attention drops back down to his nipples. The chains are still visibly pulling on them. His nipples are visibly getting harder and harder and darkening to a gorgeous shade of purple. The sight is burning into me and altering the chemistry of my brain. Ecstasy and rapture are coiling low in my gut.

A slight stinging sensation on my cheek has me startling. My gaze snaps up to his face. He slapped me. Not with any force, but still.

“Don’t cum yet!” he hisses in warning. “Not until I say.”

I grunt. My hands clench the sheets beneath me. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But I’m going to do everything I can to obey him.