Chapter Nine

In Which Expectations are Further Subverted During the First Session fn

I nodded my head, shocked at how easily my submission came. For more than a millennium, I have lived only to please myself, my creation consuming me in my efforts to make it as perfect as possible. I am, after all, a storyteller at my core, and I demand perfection from both myself and my creations. Testing my bonds, I jiggle my wrists. There is a small amount of give there, but only enough that I feel no pain. My brows draw down in a frown and I squint up to see Orcus's face, but still, he hides from me.

"What is it, princess?" he whispers, his words cascading over me in a wave of warmth.

"I expected something different."

"I imagine so," I can hear the smirk in his voice rather than see it. "But you've never really known what to expect from me, have you?"

He shifts, depressing the bed so that I roll toward him. "When you created me, I think you got more than you bargained for. Such is the problem with such instinctual acts of creation. That's been our problem from the start. Yes, mine too."

I raised a brow at his statement. How was it his problem? He'd not done anything but what I'd expected of him.

"You willed things into being without any real idea of what you'd made. Take me, for example," he continued.

A tendril held my head firm so I stared at the ceiling, but I could feel his breath caressing the skin of my neck as he spoke.

"Did you know that you created me to be obsessed with you? To do everything in my power to please you, to give you the story you so desperately wished for? Do you think it was a mistake, for example, that in all of our battles, I only ever won once, even though every time you felt as if you were on the verge of defeat?"

His hand—or his tentacle, I had no way of knowing which, lifted and twined around a strand of my hair. "Did you intend to make someone who knew you so completely that he could anticipate your every move? Orchestrate complex battles to give you an epic win? To mature, for example, just the slightest bit faster than you so you wouldn't need to learn these lessons on your own?

"Don't you see, princess, in making your perfect enemy, you've made me your perfect jailor, your perfect teacher, and ultimately, your perfect partner? You've been the light to my days for centuries, but it's well pastime I show you the darkness you've wrought."

With that, a tendril wrapped itself over my eyes and I was plunged into darkness. My heart beat erratically, blood rushing through my veins. Again, the bed shifted, and I felt the absence of his heat. Without my sight, every place he touched me was enhanced. The pair of tendrils that wrapped my hands now seemed to pulse in time with the one covering my eyes.

I breathed deep, steeling myself for whatever came next. He left me there for a long time until my ears were picking up the slightest rustle and my skin was practically aching from trying to feel something. By the time he did touch me, I was so sensitized that I gasped at the smallest brush. It was the briefest touch, only a whisper on my ankle, and yet it lit me up.

The next touch was a long, tickling glide down my arm, stopping level with my head. Orcus hadn't jostled the bed in quite some time, so I assumed that he could manipulate his tendrils from a distance.

He touched me all over, my legs, my hands, my toes, my neck, my knee, my shoulder, my stomach. Each one gently stoked a fire I couldn't say I'd ever felt. I knew that mortals felt desire. They required it to procreate. But because I'd never needed that, never seen anyone as my equal, I'd never felt the slightest bit of attraction prior to what I felt then.

After a while, my breath grew ragged, and I bowed off the bed, searching for sensation that came far too irregularly. A brief whisper on my neck, a slow, sensual drag underneath my breast. I was gasping for air, mentally begging him to touch me more. I craved his touch in ways I had never craved anything before.

I'd never wanted for anything, never needed anything at all. For the first time ever, I needed something.

His touch.

Between my legs, my pussy tingled with excitement. Each bow off the bed squeezed my legs together and brought delicious pressure. My body thrummed with wanting, to hear his voice, to feel further touches, but each was just as fleeting as the past. Each one taunted me with its ephemeral bliss until I writhed on the bed, tears gathering at the corner of my eyes. Thick tentacles wrapped around my legs, and I moaned at his touch.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was more than he'd given me before. Sobs burst from me, punctuating the air with my cries.

"I think that's enough for now." Orcus's voice was raw, as if he was the one who'd cried out. "Sleep, Aviana."

At first I was shocked, confused by his words and the touches that ceased. Though I felt his weight leave the bed, and a blanket was drawn up over my body, his tendrils on my wrists didn't release me, though they relaxed. "Orcus?"

"Sleep." The door clicked shut.

"Aaaaagh! That blasted man! Orcus! Get back here and... well, I'm not quite—well, you see, I—Damn you!"

I sputtered out, my arousal cooled by my anger. I was so frustrated that I could feel it thrumming through my body. I tested my bonds, and they stretched to allow me to shift my position, though they wouldn't let my hands stray past my waist. I curled up on my side, blubbering and feeling quite sorry for myself.

But no—this was just as it should be. This was one of my lessons, likely something about denial, and so I curled up on my side, shocked at how tired I was. I yawned, realizing that I'd only ever felt tired from magical exertion before. In this case, I hadn't actually done anything. Still, I drifted off quickly, into a blissful dream of tentacles writhing all over my body.